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yoonjinkooked · 5 years ago

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Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was.

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom

Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+ Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos. Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3 - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base. Hope you enjoy!

Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.

It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.

Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.

Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.

There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.

You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.

Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.

As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.

“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.

“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”

“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.

“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”

“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”

“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”

“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”

A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.

“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”

“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”

“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.

By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.

Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.

You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.

You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.

But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.

Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.

You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.

As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood. At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.

An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.

The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.

Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.

Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.

It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.

You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.

You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.

It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.

You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.

So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.

Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.

Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.

Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.

You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.

Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.

By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.

“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.

“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.

“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.

You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.

Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.

“Thanks, you too.”

You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.

Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.

For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.

Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.

And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.

After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.

It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.

Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.

The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.

So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.

It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.

“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.

“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”

“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”

“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”

“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”

“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”

“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.

“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.

“Not yet, why?”

“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”

Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.

“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”

He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.

Why not?

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”

The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.

Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.

“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.

He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”

A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”

“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.

“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”

“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”

How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.

“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.

“Deal.”

He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.

And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.

“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”

“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”

“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.

“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”

Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.

“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”

“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.

If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.

God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.

This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.

“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.

“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.

“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.

“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.

“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?

“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”

“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.

“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.

“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.

Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”

“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”

“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”

You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.

“What else does destiny want us to do?”

You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?

“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.

First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.

He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.

You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.

And lord almighty, it is crowded.

You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.

You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger.

Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.

It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.

For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.

He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.

The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.

It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.

Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.

You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)… That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.

Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.

“That’s okay.”

You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.

“Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.

Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?

You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.

He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.

It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.

All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.

“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.

“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”

“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.

“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.

Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.

“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”

“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”

“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.

“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.

“Sure, let’s go.”

There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.

You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.

“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”

You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.

“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.

“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.

“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”

“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”

You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.

After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.

“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.

You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.

“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.

“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”

Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.

You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.

Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?

So you do.

You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.

Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.

You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.

You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.

You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.

You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“

With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.

It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.

You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.

He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.

And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”

Fuck everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.

Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.

You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.

You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.

Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.

He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.

The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.

“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.

The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.

Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.

“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?

“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”

“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.

“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”

“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.

“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.

It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.

“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.

“Thank fuck we’re already here.”

You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.

“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”

“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.

“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”

“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”

You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.

Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.

“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.

“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.

You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.

You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.

“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”

“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”

“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.

“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”

“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.

There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.

He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.

Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.

Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.

You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.

He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.

“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.

“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.

“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.

It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.

“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.

“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”

The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.

You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.

He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.

He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.

After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.

“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.

He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.

“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.

“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.

“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.

“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.

You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.

No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.

“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.

“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.

You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.

Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.

Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.

You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.

“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.

“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.

“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.

You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.

Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.

“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.

He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.

“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.

“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”

It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.

The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.

You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.

You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.

His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.

It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.

You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.

You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”

“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.

“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?

“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.

“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.

“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.

“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.

“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.

“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.

“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.

You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.

“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”

With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.

You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.

He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.

“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.

“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”

“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.

“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.

Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.

But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.

Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”

“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”

You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.

How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…

“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.

“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”

“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”

“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.

You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.

“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.

“Deal.”

He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.

“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.

Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens. A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.

You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.

It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.

Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.

The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.

You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.

It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.

Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.

“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”

He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.

Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.

He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.

No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END

#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin scenario #bts scenario #jimin #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts au #jimin au #park jimin #jimin writing

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notsoharsh · 4 years ago

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Let’s Grab a Bite || Miriam & Harsh

Timing: A week ago Location: Eluria Cemetery Participants: @meflemming and @notsoharsh Summary: Harsh and Miriam skip out on a party to find common ground over a late night snack. Content warnings: Quick medical blood mention

Eluria Cemetery was almost like a tourist trap as far as Harsh was concerned. Maybe he was getting old, but there was something about the ragers that new vampires threw that just seemed exhausting now. They didn’t have the same shine as they used to when he would dive right into the middle. He had come by to get a couple drinks, but his attention had started waning before he had finished his first solo cup of spiked blood. Waving off a few enthusiastic hangers on, he wandered his way out of the large crypt. The night air was still and cool away from the stuffy tomb. Cup still dangling from his fingers, he found a headstone to lean against as his eyes drifted over the cemetery. A solitary figure caught his eye. A woman, but an unfamiliar one. She didn’t look like the rager type either. Idly, he pushed himself off the headstone, slowly sauntering over. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. If you’re here for the party, I should warn you, it’s pretty lame.”

Being around others of her “kind” always made Miriam a little perturbed. It wasn’t that she disliked other vampires. She simply didn’t care to get to know them. She had better things to do than go to Teeth or the Bloody Stake to indulge in blood with the rest of her cohorts. In fact, she had never been particularly attracted to the idea of sharing a meal with someone. Her meal tended to be long and messy, and she didn’t have time to share. So… she didn’t particularly understand why she’d been drawn to the party going on in Eluria. She’d been hunting magic users when she’d stumbled across it, the noise with a distinct lack of heartbeats catching her attention. She decided to watch a bit on the outskirts, intrigued and a bit disturbed by what was going on inside the crypt. They all seemed to be having fun, certainly. But she didn’t feel a part of them. She didn’t feel a part of anything. She noticed the gentleman walking towards her, though, and she gave him a charming smile. “I’m not one for parties, I’m afraid. Keep to myself, you know. And, well, if you say the party’s lame, darling, then I’m inclined to believe you. You seem like the type to know.”

“Oh, I do. I can spot a boring rager from a mile away.” Harsh offered his hand. “I’m Harsh, by the way. Are you new in town?” He couldn’t remember ever seeing her around, but then again, it wasn’t like he had been there particularly long either. There were always more vampires crawling out of the woodwork. He could probably live in White Crest for a hundred years and never quite meet all of them. Still, it never hurt to make a few new friends. Hanging around humans always posed a risk. There was a chance they might notice just how chilled his fingers were, or the smell of their blood might get a little too enticing. Though the music drifting from the party was on the edges of his awareness, he couldn’t pick up a heartbeat from the stranger. But, in White Crest, that could mean a whole mess of things.

“Pleasure to meet you, Harsh. I’m Miriam,” she said, taking his hand. She gave him a wide grin. “Not new, no, I’ve lived here my whole life, actually. I just… had to leave for a bit.” Not that she could really leave town, a fact that embittered her every time she thought about it. She thought about the mausoleum on her property, of all the years she spent willingly trapped in there, not conscious but not sleeping, either. “What about you? Have you been in town very long?” She looked at the party going on a short distance away and gave a slight snort. “Besides being around long enough to tell a bad party from a good one, of course.” She felt uncomfortable even being within this proximity to the party. Not that she didn’t love parties; at least, she had when she was alive. There was just something that she didn’t really connect with when it came to supernatural ragers. They distracted her from her goals.

“Oh yeah? A local huh. Well, I’ve only been here for a little while, but I can’t blame you for needing to get away for a bit. This place is… kind of a lot,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. Though he had only arrived some months ago, it felt like a few years worth of insanity had happened in that time. “Nah, not too long, well… actually, I think I’m getting near to six months now, so I guess that’s a decent while.” Following her look, Harsh nodded. “Well, that’s something I picked up way before White Crest. That one’s going to fizzle out fast. Y’know, I was thinking of going for a walk, I wouldn’t mind some company if you don’t have anything else going on tonight. How about it? Maybe we could even find something to eat?” The wink he added on was probably unnecessary, but if never hurt to tack on a little extra charm.

“A lot is a terrible understatement,” Miriam said, smiling at this stranger. “But it’s home. Nowhere else I can ever hope to be. You get used to it.” She cocked her head a bit and nodded. Yes, she’d been awake for about six months, give or take. “I think the last six months have been the weirdest I’ve ever experienced in my time living here, which is saying something, truly.” Of all the witches and vampires, werewolves and fae, none of them had ever caused as much trouble as the last six months. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Miriam cast her eyes back to the party that she’d had no interest in to begin with and then back to the vampire in front of her, one of the few she’d met that she actually found interesting. She grinned. “Well, when a gentleman like you ask, how could a lady possibly say no? A walk and a bite to eat would be lovely.” She wasn’t even particularly thirsty. Maybe she just craved the company. “Tell me, Harsh, what’s your favorite flavor?”

“Fair enough,” Harsh said, with a little chuckle. He definitely couldn’t argue with that. “Huh, I wonder if it’s just gotten extra weird recently. I’ve kinda traveled a lot and I’ve never been anywhere with as much weird as White Crest. It keeps things interesting at least.” As exhausting as the place could be, Harsh couldn’t recall the last time he was bored. Between the killer mimes and all the other nonsense that seemed to make the front page every few days, there was always something to keep busy with. Smiling, he moved to fall into step at Miriam’s side. The smell of death was everywhere, pretty normal. Somewhere past that, toward the edge of the graveyard, there was something a little more lively. Maybe a jogger or someone out walking their dog. Whoever they were, it probably wasn’t their lucky night. “Hmm, depends what I’m in the mood for, I guess. I like spicy things most of the time… but I don’t mind a little B positive now and then. What about you?”

“It wasn’t this strange, when I was growing up,” Miriam said, though she frowned. “Or, if it was, it was a lot easier to ignore. You’re certainly right, though. Never a dull moment around here.” She looked at him, interested and curious. “Where all have you traveled to? I haven’t been out in the world too much.” She regretted that, now. She should have traveled when she was alive, before she was stuck here, forever a prisoner in the place she’d always called home, haven. She supposed there were worse places to be trapped. At least White Crest was familiar. She glanced towards the sound of life, a heartbeat, a quickened pulse. It didn’t stir her appetite so much as remind her that she could go for a bite, if she were so inclined. And, looking at the gentleman beside her, she felt inclined. “Spicy things are nice, the stronger the better. Just so that it has any flavor at all. I find I’m not particularly picky, though,” she paused, “magic users. I think that’s my particular flavor of choice.” Miriam laughed, keeping her tone light. “ Of course, I know it’s just my mind probably playing tricks on me, but, I don’t know. I like to imagine that the magic in their blood gives it an extra kick.”

“Huh, I wonder if something’s changed,” Harsh said, frowning. It would make sense. If a place was always as weird as White Crest, why would anyone still live there? “Oh, all over. I cruised around Europe for a while, spent a couple years in India, then Australia. I’m, uh, a little older than I look. I sort of get this itch when I’ve been in one place for too long, y’know?” There was also the fact that… by the time Harsh left a place, he usually wasn’t exactly welcome there anymore. “Spellcasters huh? They do have a little kick to them sometimes, you’re not wrong. I remember this one guy I ate--he said he was a warlock or something, what a nerd--but he was the best I’d had in a while.” It was freeing, talking about eating people without worrying that he was about to get staked. He spent so much time, too much, trying to be normal, to pretend like he fit in with boring old humans. Not having to constantly watch his words, play the sweet little goody goody, it was a massive relief. The heartbeat was getting closer, a bouncing, healthy thrum. Harsh licked his lips. “So, do you wanna do the honors, or do you want me to grab dinner?”

“Maybe it’s aliens,” Miriam mused. “That used to be a big theory for some of the weirdness back in the eighties. Or maybe someone opened a portal to hell and let all the monsters out.” She grinned a bit. “More fun for us, huh?” She listen to him talk about where all he’s been, fascinated and more than a little jealous. “What’s your favorite place, that you’ve been? The place that makes you the happiest, or that you think is the prettiest?” It had been stupid, in her youth, to not enjoy the world while she could. “We’re all a bit older than we look, I suppose, though I’m only,” she paused, trying to remember, “sixty? Not old, by our standards, I suppose.” Though, how the hell was she supposed to know? Her interactions with vampires were limited, to say the least. “Spellcasters. My husband was one. Technically, I suppose he’s still one. A very dead one, along with the rest of his wretched family. The blood’s nice. The screams are better.” Miriam could so rarely talk about this. Morgan would judge her for it, hate her for it, and Evelyn… Miriam didn’t want to bring Evelyn into any of this at all. Both of them knew about her preferences, but they couldn’t understand it. Not like Harsh possibly, hopefully could. “Oh, you do the honors, darling. I wasn’t expecting a meal, anyway, so this is a real treat. I’m following your lead.”

“Could be. I feel like aliens would want to land somewhere a little more interesting though. Hell portal sounds about right though.” With all the strangeness Harsh had seen, that actually didn’t seem all that far off. It would explain some of the things he had seen at the hospital. “My favorite, oh that’s tough. Probably Paris, I hung out in the catacombs for a while.” He glanced over her, nodding a little. She didn’t look sixty, but then, he didn’t look over a hundred. The whole not aging thing definitely had its perks. “That’s not bad. I’m a little older than that… just take sixty and add a hundred. Or two.” It was weird saying it out loud. He had been telling people he was just twenty-eight for more than two centuries, it almost felt wrong. A little smile curled onto his face. “So you like it when they scream? Y’know, I gotta say, a little background noise makes it even sweeter. I usually try to keep them quiet, but sometimes, it’s nice to know you can still scare the shit out of people.” People were so desensitized these days, especially here. Grin growing, Harsh nodded. He didn’t need much more encouragement than that. They were closer now, enough to make out the jogger. The poor idiot was headed right for them. Bad night to try to get some exercise. Harsh let his pace quicken. Two beats of their heart, three. Harsh struck the second they were in reach. He jabbed sharply, catching their throat, leaving them stumbling and wheezing, momentum still carrying them a few more steps. Harsh was there in an instant, the jogger’s leg crunching soundly as he brought his foot down. They were still coughing, struggling to scramble away when Harsh’s teeth sank into their arm.

“What?” Miriam asked with mock-indignation. “You don’t think that White Crest is just the most interesting place in the world?” She smirked though, not truly invested in her words. She was far more interested in his. “Paris always sounded lovely, and I once heard about how lively the catacombs are, all things considered.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with a vampire, much less one so old. She wondered, for probably the first time, about her maker. How old were they? Were they still in town? Did she actually care? “Well, I think we both look good for our age, don’t you?” She smiled back at him, showing her teeth. Her fangs. “I think the screaming, the fear, that’s the best part. Probably better than the blood, sometimes,” she said, a bit quietly. It didn’t matter. With his hearing, she knew he could hear her. She followed him, let him go in first. Hesitated, momentarily. This was… a new experience. Was this what their kind was supposed to do? Hunt together, feed together, a sort of twisted community founded on the blood that others provided. She found that she wasn’t against it, exactly. She rushed forward herself, taking the jogger’s other arm. She ran the tips of her fingers over the flesh near their wrist before digging her nails in, savoring the agony it brought them. She could almost imagine she felt magic inside them and wondered if it was real or not. Whatever it was, it felt heady as she brought her mouth to their already bleeding wrist and drank.

“I mean, it’s got it’s upsides, but I think that it leaves something to be desired.” Harsh didn’t have quite the hatred for White Crest that some of the locals seemed to, but… it didn’t take a genius or even a soul to see why they wanted to be anywhere else. “They’re great. I had a couple buddies there, we’d hang around and pick off tourists who got lost.” Maybe not the most noble way to hunt, but it was fun. Sometimes being the villain in a horror movie scenario was a pretty sweet gig. He nodded. “The fear makes it better sometimes. It’s a rush, isn’t it? Seeing that panic and knowing you did that.” A little sadistic maybe, Harsh had the awareness to see that at least, even if it wouldn’t stop him doing it. It felt good. Why should he hold himself back from one of un-life’s greatest pleasures? He watched, almost gleefully as Miriam sank her teeth in. This was how it should be. Eating, doing whatever they wanted without worrying about some damn slayer giving them crap for it. He drank deep as the struggling slowed and stopped, wiping his mouth as he pulled away. “Not as good as a witch, but I bet we can find one… maybe later on, if you’re already full.”

Snorting, Miriam said, “It leaves quite a good bit to be desired, one finds, especially when it’s impossible to leave.” She loved this town, the way it inspired a childhood nostalgia in her, but she wished she’d seen more of the world when the door had been open for her. Now she was held in this town by some sort of curse or strange happenstance, and there appeared to be no way to fix it. “Sounds delightful, darling. Fine dining, certainly. I’d imagine France is known for all that.” She liked this man, his understanding of her, his lack of moral high ground. They weren’t the same, but they understood each other. “It really does. Gives the whole experience a nice kick.” Perhaps he didn’t feed off of it the way she did, but that was fine. She’d never enjoyed feeding like this, but maybe that was because she’d never tried to share the experience. This was nice. It was far more than she needed, bloodwise, but it was nice, and it felt good, and, really, what need did she have to curb herself? What want, what desire, would make her stop? As the jogger took their last breath, there was none. Miriam licked her lips, grinning at the other vampire. “No, but it certainly hit the spot.” She checked her watch, making sure the sun was nowhere near rising. She should get back to her home, to her guest, but… this could be more satisfactory, if they found a witch, if she could properly feed and not feel so hollow. “Why the hell not? I wouldn’t mind a bit of an overindulgence, myself, and we’ve got a bit of time.” She raised an eyebrow. “Only if your interested, though, of course.”

“Impossible to leave? Are you trapped here?” Harsh frowned. White Crest was fine for a visit, but being trapped here or anywhere sounded like a nightmare. He would’ve staked himself years ago if he had been stuck in his hometown. Staying in one place had never suited him. “Right? That panic, I always like that.” It had been a while since he had really let someone get nice and frantic before he had bitten into them. That wasn’t a good look for his attempts at good deeds. But that didn’t matter now. He could take things nice and slow, make it last, really revel in that fear. And now there was someone to enjoy it with. Bending, he grabbed the body, hauling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m very interested. Let’s get rid of this guy and then we can go find ourselves a witch. I’m thinking we maul him a little then drop him in the woods. Works every time.” He offered his free arm to Miriam, grin wide.

“Yes,” Miriam said, bitterly. “I can’t go past the damn town line. It’s a bitch.” She’d never truly forgive her younger self’s foolishness, thinking that she’d have all the time in the world to explore and live. She made do, though, and it wasn’t like there wasn’t plenty of hunting to do in White Crest. For better or worse, there was just about always a spellcaster waiting in the wings to snack on. “I’m glad someone else gets it,” she told him with a smile, using her thumb to clean the last bit of blood from her lips. She knew he probably didn’t exactly get it. Harsh, though a vampire, most likely couldn’t truly understand her plight. Still, this was nice, to have a meal with someone like herself and properly enjoy it. “Marvelous,” she said, taking Harsh’s arm. For a man with a name like that, he was an absolute gentleman. “I absolutely agree. That’s a perfect way to get rid of a body. Let’s get to it, then.”

#meflemming #c: miriam #chatzy #para #wickedswriting #let's grab a bite #medical blood tw

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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

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Red flag pt.3

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Soon brothers.

Just not yet. :D

In the following week, Mikasa learned more about sex than she ever did before. While the internet itself was a fickle teacher, giving facts and hundred and more opinions from anonymous users, Eren was an endless well of knowledge. It was her who asked first too, he didn’t even try to talk about it before Mikasa brought it up. And how could she help herself, with such an insane bomb being dropped on her!

First things first – she googled the name of the agency he worked at, just to be sure that he was not bulshitting her, but everything he said seemed to be true. The website was there, displaying the “ wide variety of services done by long-term professionals”. Although Eren’s name was not there, he told her that he is listed as Master E, a thing she immediately questioned. Over messenger, of course.

Master E? Damn that’s lame.

You wound me :(

I mean seriously, couldn’t you be something cooler?

Such as?

I don’t know! Master Evil. Dungeon Master. Lord of the Night?

Yea, I’m sure that dungeon master would be turning heads

….. Orgasminator?

Mikasa pls

Lord horsecock

Stoooooop I beg you!

Fine fine, you’re just jealous I’m that much better at naming than you

Sure am.

When he didn’t continue, Mikasa took the initiative.

Sooooooooooo, gonna tell me where the Master E came from?

Simple. Annie wanted to be Mistress A so I just latched onto her vibe

Uh-hu. So you are just that much unoriginal

:( sadly

Just imagining Eren pouting at his phone made Mikasa’s evening that much brighter. She wanted to see more of it.

Latching on Annie, you do that a lot don’t you?

Why is that?

Well, she’s the one who introduced you to this whole thing and even today she is the best at your agency, most advertised one too. Playing catch up your whole life? Maaaaaaster E? :P

Hey, it’s not my fault that men are bigger pervs than women.

Excuses

To be honest, I don’t mind being behind Annie, she’s good at this. Also, don’t tell her this, but she scares me sometimes

Scares you how :O

Annie can be really brutal when she gets into it. Nothing the clients don’t ask for, mind you, but still. If you’d see her victims….. the wounds……

Mikasa’s breath caught in her throat.

Are you serious?

I don’t know…. Am I?

Dork.

She frowned at her phone, but still looked when the answer pinged in.

I am partly serious though. She can be a nightmare, sometimes I feel like she’s on a one-woman crusade against the male population. And she’s getting paid for it too!

She sounds like a hell of a woman.

You bet :)

Master E also had several scenes online, to be bought and watched, and a few times Mikasa almost clicked the button and spent her hard-earned cash on kinky porn. It was the promise of a live show that stopped her from doing so. She didn’t know if she’s going to go yet but buying a video of something she could watch happening in real time was a waste of money. No, she wouldn’t spoil that surprise.

She learned much anyway, way too much even, things that made her blush and hide her face, things that made her quickly hide her phone. In moments like these, she was grateful that the communication was being done over the internet, as Eren was way too intense of a person to be talked about this face to face. Here, hidden behind her screen, she could pester him for ages, joking and making fun of whatever he gave her. And, during these conversations, she learned another important thing.

For a guy who was more or less a professional perv, Eren used a lot of emojis in his messages.

It caught her off guard, how normal and easy to talk to he was. She didn’t think that he was a monster or something, but Eren was right when he said that her opinion of him changed fundamentally once she found out about his job. Mikasa found herself texting to him, a lot, and he texted back, snapped photos until she started doing it too, and overall just had a great time. Levi was giving her sidelong glares when he kept catching her while she stared at her phone, grinning like a maniac, but she simply ignored him. How was she supposed to not laugh when Eren just sent her a photo of his cup from a coffee shop with a crying emoji. Apparently, they spelled his name wrong again and kept calling him Aaron.

What’s the most common thing they ask you to do?

She half hid her face in the pillow, already dreading the answer. The three dots that appeared in the corner indicated that he was typing an answer, and soon enough there was a ping.

I feel like I’ll disappoint you here.

Most of my clients are easily satisfied - basic bondage/dominance stuff works wonders

They could do that with literally anyone else

Like their boyfriends and stuff

Mikasa frowned, typing an answer.

Why don’t they then?

Ping

Sometimes it’s the professionalism I bring to the table, and then I understand them.

But often it's just a lack of communication

You’d be surprised how many things can be solved if two parties talk to each other.

I usually advise it too, tell them that they could be doing this with someone they love and not me

You undermine your own clientele like this? Mikasa wrote Why would you do that?

A few dollars ain't worth if they could be happier. Then again, not every one of them takes my advice, it's difficult to open up about things like these.

That gave Mikasa a perfect chance to poke at him.

Not for you, apparently :p

Ping

:D true, but I work in the business

The range of things they discussed was wide. Save for her past, which she did not want to talk about, and made it crystal clear too, Mikasa shared a lot. She told him all about her brother and the gym, sent him snaps from her workouts and then typed back angry emojis when he called her sweaty tryhard. His overall ignorance towards something that was a big part of her life did raise a question. Grabbing her phone more firmly, she quickly typed it out.

Haven’t you thought about doing any martial art yourself?

You deff got the figure for it.

A ping later there was an answer.

Bold of you to say that when you never saw me shirtless :P

But nah

I’m a lover, not a fighter

Plus, you’re just trying to recruit me to your gym, aren’t you?

Levi promised you a bonus?

Spill your beans, Ackerman

Damn spammer. Yet Mikasa was smiling again, which made Levi, who just happened to be passing by, groan.

“Don’t you have a client coming?”, he asked.

She shook her head.

“In an hour, I’ve got plenty of time to get cleaned up.”, she made a gesture with her hand, “Now shoo, I’m having a conversation.”

“With Sasha?”

“Huh?”, she looked up, puzzled, “Why would it be Sasha?”

“Cause I never saw you smiling this much before.”

One week turned to two, and suddenly the day of Eren’s show was here. He remained true to his word, never bringing that event up, keeping it completely in her hands, if she wanted to show up or not. Mikasa was uncertain. The mystery pulled her in, she wanted to see these things for herself. Watching it on the internet is one thing, but live show….

All the stories Eren told her only fueled such a flame. He always omitted names and such, for the discretion of his clients, but he didn’t hold back on the details. To be fair, Mikasa did ask for those.

Sasha wasn’t much help in her decision process either, because Mikasa didn’t want to share all the details about Eren yet. She told her friend that the guy from the bar invited her to a strange-looking place, and wanted to know if she should go.

“Did you two fuck?”

Mikasa frowned, realizing that Sasha can’t see her over the phone.

“No Sash, we didn’t. He’s a friend.”

“Oh, okay.”, there was a crack on the other side as she probably munched on another potato chip, “And is he a friend-friend, or friend-you-would-like-to-fuck?”

“Why is that the question?”

Sasha giggled.

“Dunno just wanted to ask.”

“You’re not helping at all….”

“Because it's easy! You either trust that guy and go or don’t trust him, block his number and never see him again. Boom, solved!”

If only it was so simple.

Yet when the day rolled around, Mikasa woke up with a decision in her mind. She’s going to go there. Eren was a great friend, and she was curious about this whole thing. She will be masked, anonymous, and if there is something she won’t like, the door will be there. This raised another question, however, of what does one wear to a BDSM club.

Mikasa, in her vanilla life, did not feel the need to buy anything made of leather or latex and wasn’t about to start now. There was one pair of leather paints she used to own until one day a completely random guy on the street told her that her ass looks really good in them. Mikasa threw those pants right out that evening. Public exposure was something she was NOT looking for. So, she had a small variety to choose from anyway. Mostly jeans, one or two skirts and a single dress that she wore to prom and that probably wouldn’t fit her anymore. Standing in front of the wardrobe, she contemplated calling Sasha again but ultimately decided against it. Mikasa Ackerman is a grown woman. She can choose her own clothes, damn it.

In the end, it was just a simple shirt and jeans combo. She reasoned that it added to her secretiveness, as anyone could wear what she was wearing. Satisfied with her completely basic appearance, she headed for the door, grabbing the keys and popping her head into the kitchen.

“I’m heading out.”, she announced, “Borrowing the car too.”

“Oh? And you tell me now?”, Levi tsked, shaking his head, “Damn brat, you really have no manners. When will you be back?”

“Later, maybe tomorrow. Don’t wait up.”

The words were already forming in Levi’s mouth, but Mikasa spoke faster.

“I’m an adult, so please. Just don’t.”

And, to her surprise, he didn’t.

“Fine. But if there is even a single scratch on the car, I’m taking it out of your paycheck.”

“That’s fair. I’ll see you later then.”

“Later.”, he was already half-turned back towards the Tv, before he added, “Drive safely.”

And that’s how, an hour and a half later, she was standing in front of a completely unassuming building. The door was just like any other, with a small sign and everything, not strange in the slightest. The security guard might have been a bit of a giveaway. He was tall, wide and dressed in a tailored suit that fit him perfectly. When Mikasa approached, he sized her up and down.

“I’m afraid that this is a members only club.”, he spoke in low barytone, “Do you have a card?”

“I uhh... I was told that I can come in. I’m a friend of Eren, my name is Mi-…”

The guard raised a hand before she could finish.

“No names, please. We pride ourselves on anonymity.”

Seeing Mikasa nod, he continued.

“Mr. Yeager did tell me that someone might be coming and that I should let them straight in. So I will do just that.”, he stepped aside, “Once you enter, the masks will be to your right, and after choosing one please don’t forget to return it. Enjoy your stay.”

Mumbling her thanks, Mikasa dipped inside, finding herself in a small room. There were the masks, just as the guard said, and another door that led to the club itself. She could hear muted music coming through. First things first, she stepped closer to the selection, casting an inspecting eye over it. There were several types, all possible shapes and sizes form full hoods to tiny eye-masks. After a bit of healthy consideration, she grabbed a black one that covered the upper half of her face, more than enough to remain anonymous. It was not likely that she would meet anyone that knew her anyway, let’s be honest. Masked, ready as ever, curious and wanting to see more, Mikasa took a deep breath and entered the door, stepping right into Eren’s world.

#eremika #fanfic #snk #see you in 2021 #maybeh

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cheemerthelizard · 5 years ago

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Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 16

Another day passes by, and it’s another day where nobody except for Lily knows about Yoshikage Kira. Well, for now, at least. Jotaro brings up something about a murderer, and Lily is highly suspicious that the murderer is the man who threatened her life.

“No, no, it’s your turn to look after Emily until Josuke’s free.”

“My turn? I did it last time.”

“Really? Because I wrote here, on this paper, ‘I took care of Emily last time.’”

Kakyoin sighed. He knew that Lily stayed home last time Josuke had school, but he couldn’t shake this bad feeling he had. “Please, let me go out today, you can have two extra days tomorrow, I promise.”

“Noriaki, what’s wrong?” Lily asked. “You’ve never begged me to stay home.”

“I… don’t know,” Kakyoin answered. “I just have a really bad feeling that if you go out today, something will happen to you.”

Lily chuckled. “But what if that bad thing happens to you?”

Kakyoin went silent.

“Here. Just in case your bad feeling is true, and something happens to me, I’ll linger a little longer today.” Lily walked up to Kakyoin, pulling his head down to give him a kiss. “And, just for you, I’ll be extra careful today while I’m out. But I promise nothing will happen.”

“You can’t promise that,” Kakyoin pointed out.

“You’re right,” Lily sighed. “But I can promise this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Kakyoin smiled. “Okay. I’ll let you go. Be careful, alright? That one part of my brain is screaming at me for letting you go out, so you better come back in one piece.”

Lily laughed. “Don’t worry about a thing. I love you.”

“Love you, too. See you tonight.”

Once the door closed, it took all of Kakyoin’s power to stop himself from running after Lily. Surely that bad feeling in his gut was just a feeling, right? Lily was careful, she could get herself out of danger. Still, the back of his mind told him otherwise.

It’s just a feeling, he told himself, no need to go after her.

While Kakyoin was doing that, Lily was already walking down the streets, on her way to her next task. Apparently, a girl had not only survived the arrow, but also didn’t die right away from her Stand. Her father had been reporting his daughter screaming in fear, pointing at nothing for a couple of days now.

“So, another one like me, huh?” Jotaro said. At this point, Lily was sure Jotaro was using Star Platinum to startle her.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“I never told you?” Jotaro replied. “My first few days of having my Stand were in a jail cell. I thought an evil spirit possessed me, and so I stayed in there to protect people from him. Sounds like this girl is going through something similar.”

“Hopefully, with a quick talk, I can show her that the spirit following her isn’t evil,” Lily chuckled.

“You’re the best one for the job, since your Stand isn’t aggressive,” Jotaro added. “Well, I should get to my task today. I’ll see you later.”

“You too,” Lily smiled.

“Oh, one more thing. Rohan and Koichi heard something about a murderer who’s been killing people in Morioh for years now. We’re not sure if he’s a Stand user or not, but keep an eye out, alright?”

Lily froze in her tracks. Without thinking, her hand grabbed her neck, where the bomb was placed not too long ago. It couldn’t be. No, surely Kira wasn’t the one they were looking for. But with his ability, it would be really easy for him to live under the radar. Was he really a murderer?

“Are you alright?” Jotaro asked. “I mentioned a murderer and you just grabbed your neck.”

“I-it’s nothing,” Lily lied. “I’m fine.”

Jotaro narrowed his eyes, but left it at that. “Whatever you say. See ya.”

“Bye, Jotaro,” Lily muttered. As she walked, her mind was racing. Does Kira know? Will he assume that she told them? Is he actually the one they’re looking for? How far was she willing to go to protect her life? Although she knew better, she couldn’t help but keep rubbing the crook of her neck.

Right, no time to think about that now. The only thing that should be on Lily’s mind was the task that needed to be completed, helping a young girl understand her new abilities. In fact, she was almost at the house where the girl and her father lived. According to Lily’s notes, the name of the girl was Emiko, and her father’s name was Hiroki. The only other person in the house was Emiko's baby brother, and the mother died a few weeks ago from unknown circumstances, probably the arrow. Ever since her death, Emiko had been screaming in terror, pointing at nothing, begging something to get away from her. Hiroki had been reluctant to send her to an insane asylum because she might be mistreated there, but he saw no other choice. However, after sending her there multiple times, she always seemed to come right back home. When he asked about it, all she said was, “the spirit brought me back, I don’t know how.”

Yup, that sounded like a Stand’s work. Poor girl was probably so confused and terrified, and her father couldn’t even see the problem. Looking down at her notes, Lily double checked the address, then knocked on the door.

“Hello?” When the door opened, a man with honey blonde hair and green eyes appeared on the other side. “Look, if you’re here to confiscate my daughter, I’m afraid there’s not much you can do. She keeps coming back home somehow, I’m not sure that you can keep her there for long.”

“Sir, I’m not here to confiscate your daughter,” Lily replied. “I’m here for quite the opposite. My name is Lily Kakyoin, I work for the Speedwagon Foundation. We think your daughter might have obtained a strange ability, and I’m here to help her understand it.”

“A strange ability?” Hiroki asked. “Like a superpower?”

“Something of the sorts,” Lily answered. “I promise, no harm will come to Emiko. I’ll talk to her for a little, and then be on my way. Is she home?”

“No! Stop! Stay away from me!” A distressed scream came from somewhere in the house.

“I think that answers your question,” Hiroki said. “Please, come in.”

Lily entered the house, and followed Hiroki to his daughter’s room. When he opened the door, the first thing Lily saw was Emiko cowering in a corner, with a strange, blue, somewhat humanoid reaching its hand out to touch her hair.

“Why me?! Why do you want to haunt me?!” Emiko screamed.

“She’s not schizophrenic, that’s for sure,” Lily told Hiroki. “I can see the spirit. I’ll take care of this, sir, don’t worry.”

“Emiko,” Hiroki knocked on the door he just opened, “you have a visitor. She says she can see your spirit.”

“Can she make it go away?” Emiko asked hopefully.

Lily gave the girl a light smile. “There’s no need for that,” she said. “I’m only here to help you understand it. Your spirit isn’t here to hurt you, I promise.”

“How do you know?” Emiko’s tone suddenly dropped.

“Because I have one of my own,” Lily answered, summoning her own Stand. “I call it Ace of Pentacles.”

“You’re haunted, too?” Emiko stepped back a little. She stepped back away from her Stand, which had almost made contact with her.

“It isn’t really ‘haunted’, like you say,” Lily explained. “You were struck with an arrow, right? You survived that arrow attack, and it granted you a special ability called a Stand, which is the spirit following you. It’s basically a physical, well, semi-physical, manifestation of your soul. It won’t hurt you, and you’re not haunted.”

Emiko tilted her head.

“Just… let it mess with your hair. It looks very curious.”

Although the very thought terrified her, Emiko trusted Lily. She tensed up, but let the thing next to her twirl her hair a little bit.

“I can feel hair moving through my fingers,” she said.

“Well, your Stand is a part of you,” Lily replied. “Whatever happens to you happens to it, and vice versa. If you get hurt, it gets hurt, and when it has hair moving through it’s fingers…”

“Are there other people like us?” Emiko asked.

“There are,” Lily nodded. “There’s too many. Lots of them like using their Stands for personal gain, through any means necessary. One of them killed a girl just to keep his identity hidden.” And if Kira is discovered, it’ll happen again.

“That’s awful!” Emiko exclaimed.

“I’m glad you think so,” Lily smiled. “That’s why I’m here, as well as a couple of friends. We’re here to make sure those people never get the chance to hurt anyone, ever again.”

Emiko let a slight grin appear on her face, before it distorted back into a look of disgust. “It feels so weird having my fingers touch stuff when they’re really not.”

Lily laughed. “Just tell it to stop, and it’ll stop.”

“St-stop that!” Emiko ordered, although it sounded more like a plea. Like a dog obeying commands, her Stand stopped running its hands along the table.

“Are you alright to figure the rest out on your own?” Lily asked. “Or would you rather me walk you through it?”

“I think I can figure out the rest from here,” Emiko answered. “Thank you very much for helping me!”

“Of course,” Lily smiled. “I hope I’ll see you around!” As she left the house, she sighed happily. Moments like these were the best part of her job. But as soon as she left, her mind started lingering back to Kira. Now that she was thinking about it, he seemed like he’d be the perfect potential for a murderer. A Stand that lets him turn anything into a bomb? And when Lily met him, she saw him reach down and grab her severed hand, almost like it was a prize for taking her out.

“You’re doing it again,” Jotaro told her.

“Doing what?” Lily asked.

“Rubbing your neck.”

Lily snapped her arm back to her side. How did she keep doing that without even realizing it?

“Anyway, I came by to ask if you wanted to eat lunch with me,” Jotaro continued.

“Oh, that sounds great!” Lily chimed. “Where are we going?”

Before Jotaro had the chance to speak again, Josuke ran up to both of them from behind, startling them.

“Mrs. Lily! Mr. Jotaro!” he exclaimed. “Shigechi’s gone!”

When the two turned around, they saw Okuyasu and Koichi with him, clearly distressed.

“Shigechi?” Jotaro asked. “Who’s that?”

“He was a friend of ours,” Okuyasu explained. “We saw his Stand, Harvest, explode out of nowhere, and when we looked for him, we couldn’t find him anywhere.”

Lily gulped, making sure her hand didn’t instinctively cover up where the bomb was planted.

“The only thing he left was this button,” Josuke said. “I think our murderer is a Stand user, and I think Shigechi encountered him.”

“He was only in middle school,” Okuyasu gritted his teeth.

Lily bit her lip. How was it that a middle schooler was more willing to give his life away for a better cause than she was?

“I didn’t know Shigechi personally, but we have to start looking for the murderer!” Koichi urged. “If we don’t find him, who else will lose their life?”

As the five of them talked, they continued down the streets. When Lily turned her head, she saw Kira, with an unhappy face and his hand in a thumbs-up, hiding in an alley. Gulping, she straggled behind the rest of the group and went to confront him in the alley.

“Look, I swear, I told them nothing,” Lily promised. “It was Shigechi.”

“I know that full well,” Kira replied. “However, I told you specifically, if they found me, I’d blame it on you. And that would mean your demise, as specified in our deal.”

“Well, they haven’t found you yet, so what do you want me to do?” Lily asked sarcastically. “Distract them?”

“Precisely,” Kira chuckled. “I want you to tell them that you’ve met me, and then tell them what I look like. But I want you to lie. I want you to give them a false sense of what I look like. That’s not too hard, is it?”

“Now, hold on,” Lily scowled. “That was never part of the deal.”

“Anything’s a part of the deal when your life’s on the line,” Kira smirked. “And now that they’re already hunting me down because of Shigechi, there’s no reason for me to keep you alive, unless you do as I say. That’s our new deal.”

Lily balled up her fists, but let them go, sighing. There was no reason to fight. Her life was already in his hands. Any protest and she would be killed in an instant. “Alright,” she mumbled.

Kira smiled. “Good. Now, go out there and show me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

When Lily emerged from the alley, she was met with four faces staring her down.

“Care to explain why you snuck off without telling us?” Jotaro asked.

“Oh, that?” Lily nervously laughed as she approached the little group. “I just thought I saw something suspicious and decided to go check it out. I was just imagining things, though.”

“You should have called us back there,” Josuke replied. “It would have been safer in numbers.”

“I didn’t think about that… oops.” If she played dumb, maybe they would leave it alone.

“Okay, you know what? I’m done,” Jotaro said. “I want the full truth, and I want it now. No messing around, no beating around the bush, tell me exactly what happened, and why you’ve been acting weird, especially after I mentioned a murderer.”

Lily gulped. “Well, um, uh, it’s kind of hard to explain…” She hated lying to everyone like this, but she wanted to keep her life. Thankfully, that was no longer a part of the deal. “I had an encounter with the man who took Shigechi’s life one day while I was taking a walk,” she admitted. Everyone gasped.

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Josuke exclaimed. “Traitor!”

“No, wait, let me finish!” Lily cried. “I’m not a traitor, I swear! You see, the way I met him, he planted a bomb on me, and he activated it, but I got away just in time. But then, he discovered me, and the only way I could save myself was promising I wouldn’t tell anyone about him.”

“But he’s a bad guy, why didn’t you tell us?” Koichi asked.

“Because he planted another bomb on my neck to make sure he wasn’t discovered,” Lily continued. “He told me if he was found, he’d blame it on me, no matter what, and he’d kill me.”

Everyone just stood there, stunned.

“Well, what does he look like?” Okuyasu urged. “Come on, we need to know so we can catch him!”

“I’m getting to that, don’t worry. First of all, his power is deadly, he has the ability to turn anything into a bomb. If he moves his thumb down to his fist, it’ll activate the bomb. Secondly, his looks…” Uh oh. This part was completely unplanned. She looked over at Jotaro. “Black hair…” then at Okuyasu. “With a shaved cut minus the top…” Josuke. “Blue eyes…” Koichi. “And a short stature.”

The others nodded, but Jotaro looked at Lily with disbelief painted across his face. “Weird. You listed one of our traits as you looked over at us. It’s almost like you had to improvise.”

Lily went silent.

“Who exactly was in that alley, Lily?”

She went pale as her throat got caught. She tried saying something, but nothing came out.

Jotaro ran towards the entrance to the alley, practically pushing Lily aside, and everyone else followed suit. Lily, too scared to move, just watched them as they peered to where Kira was just a moment ago.

“Looks like they didn’t believe you,” a menacing chuckle came from the other entrance Lily was right beside, making her gasp in fear. “It’s a shame. Well, you’re no use to me now.”

“There’s nobody here!” Jotaro exclaimed. “Quick, we need to check the surrounding areas!”

Suddenly, a terrified scream that was ominously cut short came from where Lily was standing just moments ago. When the others turned their heads to it, the spot was completely barren, no sign of her in sight.

Everyone was too shocked to say a word. They knew what just happened, but it hadn’t quite processed yet. Josuke was the first to speak.

“She… she’s still alive, right?” he asked hopefully. “She could’ve been kidnapped or something! We need to find her!” But deep down, everyone knew. Josuke knew that Ace of Pentacles would make a copy of Lily if she were being taken away, and Jotaro knew that Lily’s horrible lying skills would not let her think of a Stand ability like the one she described before she suddenly disappeared.

“But… but how would we tell Mr. Kakyoin if… if she’s really…” Josuke tried forcing the words out of his mouth, but he couldn’t say it. Tears were starting to form in his eyes, and he clenched his teeth together.

“Serves her right…” Okuyasu growled. “Traitor…”

Something clicked in Jotaro when Okuyasu said those words. “You would have done the same thing in her situation! Don’t act all high and… mighty…”

One look at Okuyasu and it was easy to tell that his words were nothing more than a vain attempt to stop his crying. “I was so mad at her just seconds ago,” he said, choking on his own tears. “So why? Why do I miss her already?”

“Mrs. Lily… she’s not really…” Koichi sniffled. Suddenly, he burst into tears, as well, clutching his heart.

Jotaro looked at the three grief-stricken people around him, and if he was honest, he tilted his hat down and shed a few tears himself. Tears for their friend, who would never come back to them again.

#crusader of life #oc #diamond is unbreakable #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfiction #my fanficiton

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rgr-pop · 6 years ago

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i unfortunately (due to, am broke) am going to be in the market for some new powders in a few months! powders are cool because i use them up--amazing, the panners were right. so here is a post on my powder usage. (for newer followers interested in makeup talk: i do not wear foundation but i do conceal pretty much every time i go out, i have only mild dark circles with significant variation on account of i sleep only sometimes, and okay-to-normal dry skin that is finicky and about which i am reasonably self conscious. i’m a dry in a dry land.)

i cannot say i have ever purchased a setting or finishing powder in my life, and it has only been a year or a year and a half since i have been using either regularly. powders made their way into my daily life because youtube rotted my brain about how much i have to do to my skin, but it’s interesting because my increase in powder use coincided with a sea change on youtube (at least among the marginally-hip youthful medium hurus, who i follow a lot of), a move against powders in favor of dewier low-coverage looks that wear away naturally. i have not found that powder usage impedes these qualities in my own makeup use, and while i respect the techniques of these hurus (and implement many of them) i characterize this as one of many subtly homophobic beautube backlashes going on right now. i do not necessarily find that powder intensifies the condition or appearance of dryness, and i do not experience cakiness. i am, like everyone under the influence of the huru brain worm, at least a moderate user of oil or glycerin based “setting” sprays. i like the versatility of powdering, and i find powder particularly useful for keeping my watery eyeballs from ruining my whole face. i do not do anything difficult or strenuous ever, but i do expect the upper half of my face to hold its makeup for the duration of whatever it is that i wear it for, and i always find that my makeup looks okay (slightly smudged and faded but acceptable) at ten or twelve hours. this is one benefit of not wearing foundation.

here is an overview of the powders i have had and what i’m looking for:

tarte’s “smooth operator” amazonian clay pressed setting powder. i have had this for years. is it a mini, or just small? where did it come from? i think free with something, years ago. can i tell you what kind of good skin privilege i had? when i got this--YEARS ago, five years ago??--i wasn’t precisely sure what to do with a “setting powder.” i was very makeup literate about everything except for doing things to your skin, because i never did anything to my skin, either because it was perfect or our culture was less hellish (a little of both). it is just lucky that i ended up purchasing the concealer that is supposed to go with this item that i had acquired for free. they work beautifully together and used wisely i never experience anything like creasing, cakiness, migration, transfer of eye makeup including mascara. not ever, nothing like this. this concerns me, i am worried that i have gone and gotten myself reliant on an expensive powder. and it turns out that high end powders are expensive! (the concealer, which i cannot imagine using up in two years, is $26 and i got it during the sale, the powder, which i would imagine would last me the same amount of time, is $35). as a non-foundation wearer with skincare literacy (no offense rich girls who buy vitamin c), i am not accustomed to spending that kind of money on a “practical” item, only fun color cosmetics, or perfume, either of which would last me typically my entire life. lipsticks, blushes, highlighters, maybe a palette, etc. i would be tempted to buy this powder again, however the drive to educate myself on the world of powder is telling me not to! so i will not.

a loose silica hd powder from modelco or city colour or jcat or something, i am not going upstairs to check. i am not going to use this item up anytime soon, but i do like having it on hand. it came in a subscription service back when i did those. i do not believe that just a silica hd powder is the kind of product you need to invest a lot of money in, flashback or no. i am not precise enough in application to use this powder on my undereyes--i tend to sweep it into my eye wrinkles and then i get eye crease flashback in mood or retail lighting (the only kind of atmospheres i am ever in). i am unsure whether i would have this issue (being unable to get away with imprecise dusting) with other loose powders for the undereye, and i’m curious to confront this problem! i can lightly pat and then lazily dust around my eyes with a pressed powder because it is not as airborne. but is this lightness a problem with all loose powders, or just the cloudy silica ones? unsure. i’m overall not worried about facial flashback if i were to set my cheeks or something with this, because my skin is already quite literally flashback colored, so who cares. but there is nothing elegant about this kind of product and i do not need it.

this pressed color correcting powder palette from elf. wow i have had a journey with this item, which i have had for years! i got this because lucas s*******ed it for me one year. he would always choose the weirdest things! he is still like that. i had no idea what to do with this--and i still wonder about such a product. for a long time i believed pretty strongly that your color correcting product should be your cream base product, combined with a translucent or skin toned powder. but the yellow and green in here have been very useful to me, once i figured out what to do with them, so i was wrong. the yellow is an adequate undereye powder when my purple is more pronounced and i’m using a less-yellow or low-coverage undereye concealer, such as today! i really am a believer in the low-coverage but quite-yellow undereye for me (color correction instead of coverage), but with this powder it is easy to go overboard and become noticeably yellow, so i have to use restraint. i would be interested in trying a pale yellow pressed powder from the drugstore to replace this one--i will not buy this product because i have never used the blue or the pink. (when yellow and green are used up, i will probably mix them together and try them as a spot setting powder, given that my natural tone is “pink and blue” anyway.) i think i will probably buy something like this essence banana powder--people say they love essence powders. it may be a little warmer than what i’d prefer but for the price it would be worth it. there is also a banana powder backlash on the wind that i disagree with! overall a color correcting backlash that i find misguided and racially concerning! anyway, it’s the green in this elf product that i have loved. i heavily conceal my jawline with concealers that fix + powders, to cover redness that is just the color that i am there, and to lock it in place because i touch my face a lot. i like this area kinda blanked out to heighten the impact of blush. i do a similar thing to my upper lip area when it is all inflamed, as it has been. a pale green powder is very good for this and i would like to buy another one--cheap is fine because i do not need any kind of elegance here, as long as it is pale. this looks just perfect and if it is that price in store i will pick it up soon. i also like to use green-leaning pale concealers for this purpose, but that is another topic for another time!

the bare minerals mineral veil, i think it was. i had a couple of minis of this that had been my mother’s, and i finally used them all up, as finishing powders. this was just okay, but i am VERY into finishing powder techniques for my personal face, somewhat like this. i am very interested in using a probably-too-illuminating powder all over my entire face. perhaps even to set my undereyes, like jaclyn hill does with lancome absolue peche. people still call her insane for doing it but i think she is brave and can i tell you how badly i want that powder?? badly. the unfortunate thing is: what i need is a luxury--like, not even high end, luxury--finishing powder; and loose powders get used up so quickly... like, i cannot even allow myself to try the hourglass loose setting powders because i know i will love them and they will own me for life. but when you look at it like that, maybe i should finally get my dumb ass the ambient lighting powders? i would absolutely set my undereyes with them like a fucking despot vampire king. it would really work for me. so yes i definitely need to get my hands on absolue peche and figure out which ambient lighting powder i’d need :[.

okay! so what’s the deal about loose vs pressed powders? like i said, a lot of the hurus are going powderless now just as i’m getting serious about subtle powdering, but even other huru/muas i usually take advice from are swearing by loose powders when i’m into pressed powder! what’s the truth? what is good? powder me

#makeup

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tomy-breyy · 4 years ago

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If you recognize anything about weight loss and supplements, you'll know that diet and exercise are the keys to weight loss. once I saw this, i used to be curious to understand how it can actually happen, therefore the reason I dug it up.

Who is that the creator of the supplement?

The supplement is formed to scientists during a laboratory who wanted to use probiotics for fat burning because it was one among the problems in losing weight during those years.

Thus, there's no real founder but a corporation of varied respected health and gut health researchers in reference to weight loss and general health.

It is good to understand that it's clinically proven and has been shown to be effective because it can help.

This information is now the primary start of our review process for this product because it gives us more confidence during a reputable company.

How does BioFit really work?

Now that we have seen what BioFit probiotic supplement is, let's take a glance at how the supplement actually works.

The supplement works primarily together with your body's mechanism to assist you reduce.

While most supplements specialise in appetite suppression, this supplement helps cleanse your colon so you're ready to get to the basis explanation for weight loss that's often ignored, the colon.

Since all of the ingredients are plant-based, the supplement acts totally on the intestines and helps heal most parts of your body.

We'll check out the ingredients within the next section to ascertain what they're and what effects they need.

What are the ingredients in BioFit?

Now let's examine what ingredients are within the supplement so you recognize whether the supplement is effective or not.

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I will list the ingredients below in order that you recognize them and see if they're effective or if they're missing

Lactobaccillus Rhamnosus

The program claims that Lactobaccilus is one among the foremost effective ingredients when it involves manipulating bacteria because it may be a probiotic.

Bifidobacterium

This is also another probiotic that's said to assist your gut perform well so you'll digest well. consistent with the corporate, this probiotic was mainly wont to speed up the fat burning process. The more you digest quickly, the higher at burning food.

Lactobaccillus casei

This is one among the ingredients that are wont to help your bifidobacterium better aid digestion. So when both are within the body, digestion is promoted.

Vegetable cellulose

These ingredients are liable for keeping your gastrointestinal system in fine condition. the simplest thanks to do that is to form sure that your body isn't constipated in order that fat burning can easily occur.

Science behind the ingredients

Let's scientifically review all of the ingredients to ascertain if the corporate makes authentic promises or not.

I'll check out each ingredient individually:

Lactobaccillus Rhamnosus

According to research and studies, Lactobaccillus Rhamnosus has been shown to be excellent at increasing the immune reaction within the physical body.

This shows an immediate correction with what the corporate or what the merchandise description says when it involves helping improve colon health.

Vegetable cellulose

According to Healthfully.com, vegetable cellulose is critical to maintaining good blood glucose levels.

This is necessary for weight loss or weight maintenance to require place.

Final analysis

As we will see, science correlates and says that the microbacteria have an impression on general health and thus weight loss for a person once they are well balanced within the body.

Who is that the BioFit supplement for?

The BioFit supplement is for a person trying to find a special sort of weight loss supplement that uses their colon to reduce.

The supplement is additionally for people that don't want to urge obviate what they're already using for weight loss.

The supplement is additionally for people that don't need to exercise tons when it involves losing weight because the gut does the work more for you to assist you reduce.

The supplement is additionally good to assist people in search of healthy blood and to assist them reduce within the end of the day.

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While I still recommend having an honest diet and exercising for weight loss, this will be drastically reduced for a person.

The supplement is additionally good for people on a plant-based diet, because it can help ensure they still receive the load loss benefit.

Usually, most dietary supplements aren't in the least suitable for this group.

How does one buy BioFit and what's the dose of BioFit?

The BioFit can only be found on the official website, where you'll order and obtain whatever you would like.

Once you've got made a sale, the bottle are going to be sent straight to your home in order that you'll start using the supplements.

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You need to require a supplement on a day to day in order that over time you'll get all of the required benefits of the supplement in your body.

The reason for this is often that each day your body gets into a clean and healthy state to reduce or burn fat.

Testimonials from BioFit Probiotic Supplement

The addition is currently new. there's no important testimony to believe. Therefore, we will only check it at a later point in time after it's been used for a minimum of a couple of months to a year.

Once I even have the complete data I can put all of this in here as I usually did after doing the required research.

BioFit prices

BioFit supplements have different pricing structures that you simply can choose between (3 packages).

I will examine each of those points below:

BioFit Supplement Package 1: $ 69 per bottle for 1 bottle

This is rock bottom package that provides you a $ 69 bottle of supplement that you simply can use for a month.

This is usually for people that want to undertake the supplement or for those on a budget.

To me, i like to recommend this if you would like to offer it a try, but if you are looking to start out losing weight then Package 2 is your best choice.

BioFit Supplement Package 2: $ 49 per bottle for 3 bottles ($ 177 total)

This is becoming a well-liked package for obvious reasons. People want to save lots of more because they need to stay the risk-free factor at an equivalent time.

Also, users want to use it for a minimum of 3 months as they know that it's during this point that results can appear.

BioFit Supplement Package 3: $ 49 per bottle for six bottles ($ 297 total)

The BioFit supplement pack is primarily aimed toward people that are already looking to top up this supplement for themselves or their family and friends, which could represent an enormous savings for them.

So you'll choose a package that suits you well which can meet your needs.

Is the biofit a scam?

The supplement is certainly not a scam in any aspect and as we've seen all evidence shows that it'll work as long as you're taking the supplements as directed.

However, below i will be able to provide a summary of why I say the supplement isn't a scam in the least.

Made by a reputable company

The supplement is formed by a reputable company which is why it's safe and insane given the proper food conditions and regulations.

Science shows that it's very effective

The supplement shows that the ingredients within the supplement are well researched which everything is functioning well.

This is an excellent indication that this is often a product that's likely to figure and is sort of good.

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Does the BioFit actually work?

To recheck whether the supplement actually works or not, we'd like to think about various factors like the following:

Testimonials (what people say) science

Testimonies

When it involves testimonials, we have seen that we will not believe it because the supplement remains new. However, this is often our normal barrier to helping us know whether a supplement is functioning or not.

science

Science is additionally an honest indication because it shows what the literature says and what has been wiped out the past.

The supplement is additionally alright documented that its ingredients actually cause weight loss over time as long because the supplements are used consistently.

Final thoughts

When it involves weight loss, most of the people don't take what they put within the bottle to assist reduce seriously.

This is why people choose things like over-the-counter drugs or drugs that have serious side effects for them.

The new supplement called BioFit is one among the simplest supplements designed to assist you reduce by not requiring an excessive amount of effort like exercise.

I found it hard to believe initially, but after doing tons of research I found that it's possible, but the exercises still got to be wiped out some form.

The supplement is backed by science where it shows that the ingredients actually work as they're all probiotics which are the most drivers of health and weight loss generally.

The supplement is additionally made under the simplest of producing conditions to make sure there's no harm to your body in the least.

The supplement is straightforward to use as you simply need to add one supplement per day and await the results to kick in in your body.

The supplements are all made to also suits GMO conditions.

The supplement also comes with a a refund guarantee, which suggests it's harmless for you to use. If you think no changes are made, you'll return the bottle to the corporate.

https://www.healthylifeandmagazine.com/biofit-reviews-probiotic-weight-loss-supplement-legit/html

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cheemers-writing-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 16

“No, no, it’s your turn to look after Emily until Josuke’s free.”

“My turn? I did it last time.”

“Really? Because I wrote here, on this paper, ‘I took care of Emily last time.’”

“Noriaki, what’s wrong?” Lily asked. “You’ve never begged me to stay home.”

“I… don’t know,” Kakyoin answered. “I just have a really bad feeling that if you go out today, something will happen to you.”

Lily chuckled. “But what if that bad thing happens to you?”

Kakyoin went silent.

“You can’t promise that,” Kakyoin pointed out.

“You’re right,” Lily sighed. “But I can promise this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Kakyoin smiled. “Okay. I’ll let you go. Be careful, alright? That one part of my brain is screaming at me for letting you go out, so you better come back in one piece.”

Lily laughed. “Don’t worry about a thing. I love you.”

“Love you, too. See you tonight.”

It’s just a feeling, he told himself, no need to go after her.

“So, another one like me, huh?” Jotaro said. At this point, Lily was sure Jotaro was using Star Platinum to startle her.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Hopefully, with a quick talk, I can show her that the spirit following her isn’t evil,” Lily chuckled.

“You’re the best one for the job, since your Stand isn’t aggressive,” Jotaro added. “Well, I should get to my task today. I’ll see you later.”

“You too,” Lily smiled.

“Are you alright?” Jotaro asked. “I mentioned a murderer and you just grabbed your neck.”

“I-it’s nothing,” Lily lied. “I’m fine.”

Jotaro narrowed his eyes, but left it at that. “Whatever you say. See ya.”

Right, no time to think about that now. The only thing that should be on Lily’s mind was the task that needed to be completed, helping a young girl understand her new abilities. In fact, she was almost at the house where the girl and her father lived. According to Lily’s notes, the name of the girl was Emiko, and her father’s name was Hiroki. The only other person in the house was Emiko’s baby brother, and the mother died a few weeks ago from unknown circumstances, probably the arrow. Ever since her death, Emiko had been screaming in terror, pointing at nothing, begging something to get away from her. Hiroki had been reluctant to send her to an insane asylum because she might be mistreated there, but he saw no other choice. However, after sending her there multiple times, she always seemed to come right back home. When he asked about it, all she said was, “the spirit brought me back, I don’t know how.”