💐 summary: once a year on the summer soltice, the veil between the realms thins. the couple can finally walk among the world without a care. what happens during midsummer, stays on midsummer.
💐 rating: 18+
💐 warning(s): swearing, exhibitionism, pet names, hickies, breast play, cock warming, dirty talk, penetration, unprotected sex (psa wrap it up), shooky being shooky
💐 word count: 2.3k
💐 credits: 💜 a special thanks to @kthpurplesyou , bee thank you so much for beta reading this fic!! 💜
banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3
💐 a/n: this is sort of a sequel to my fic Moon. i’d suggest reading that before this to understand what is going on 💜
for @btshoneyhive honey harvest cheers to another year with bhh. happy anniversary! 🎊🎉
“Jin, I’m home!” Y/N walked into her apartment, kicking her shoes off as she hung her coat on the hook and tossed her keys into the bowl near the door.
She didn’t have to go far to find the Faun, as something delicious intrigued her senses, making her walk into the kitchen. She leaned in the doorway, watching as he chopped some vegetables before dropping them into a pan on the stove. Her lips curled into a smile as he cooked, too lost in his task to notice her. She was still in awe from the first time they met. And just as before, he wore his favorite sweatpants, sans any other clothing, minus the apron wrapped snug around his waist.
Y/N crept up slowly behind, wrapping her arms around him, and stood on tiptoes to kiss the shell of his ear. Jin froze before a smile appeared on his lips? He lifted her easily without missing a beat and kissed her deeply. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, grinning into the kiss, happy to be back in his arms.
He pulled away, rubbing his nose against hers. “Well, hello there.”
“Hi to you too,” she said, giving him a quick peck.
“You just get in?”
“Mhmm. I called your name but got distracted by the view,” she teased with a wink.
He laughed, setting her back down. “How was work?”
“Eh, more or less productive,” she answered. “Hobi stopped by during my lunch break, so we went out to eat.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not bad. He says hello and wants to hang out again at some point.”
It had been almost three years since Jin appeared in her life. She wanted a fresh start after a bad breakup and moving across town.
And a fresh start she received indeed.
Jin fell into her life. Literally.
After a nasty bump on the head, Y/N could see this magical man; the rest was history.
Due to his…nature, being seen publicly by any mortals would lead to chaos. That was the last thing he wanted for her. Of course, there was an initial shock when Hoseok met him. It took a while, but her friend grew accustomed to the Faun and became the best of friends.
Y/N opened the cabinet rummaging through the different spices and handed it to him. “It’s awfully quiet here. Where’s Shooky?”
“Sleeping out on the fire escape,” he answered, stirring the vegetables.
Y/N grabbed a carrot stick from the cutting board and leaned against the counter. She chewed quietly, watching him. “Want some more help?”
Jin shot her a knowing look, making her laugh. Right. He was particular about cooking. And while he did love when Y/N was his sous chef, they’d become distracted, and then the food would burn or dry out. She put her hands up.
“Alright. Point made.”
He smiled warmly, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I promise to let you know when it’s ready.”
“Works for me; I’ll go wash this grime away.”
As the water cascaded down, Y/N contemplated her situation.
Shaking her hair out of the shower cap, Y/N went to the fire escape. Her loveable but sassy Bombay cat Shooky was resting near her plants. Ears twitching, the cat opened his eyes. He stretched and walked up to her, purring as he rubbed her leg. She giggled and reached down to scratch behind his ears.
“Well, aren’t you being sweet today? You must want something.”
Shooky stopped purring and glared at her. “Hardly. I can’t just be happy to see you.”
Y/N snorted as she continued scratching his ears. “I’ll let you be sweet for now.”
Shooky rolled his eyes before plopping himself in her lap and napping. Y/N looked out at the view watching the twinkling lights of the skyline as twilight approached.
Jin stuck his head out, a faint smile on his lips when he saw Y/N dozing off with Shooky in her lap. He almost didn’t want to wake her, but he leaned in, kissing her forehead to wake her up. She stirred, opening her eyes as a sleepy smile appeared.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“Mmhmm. Dinner is ready. Or do you want me to put a plate up for you, Princess?”
She shook her head just as Shooky woke up and stretched his body. “No, I’ll join you.”
Once Shooky jumped from her lap, Jin helped her back through the window and towards the dining room table. He set the table, ensuring the food was arranged beautifully on the plates. Y/N filled Shooky’s bowls before taking her seat as Jin grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack. He poured them each a glass as they settled into their meal. Y/N took a bite as her eyes closed in euphoria.
“This is delicious.”
“I’m happy you like it, Princess.”
They made small talk as they finished their dinner, and Y/N washed the dishes before joining Jin on the couch. He pulled her onto his lap, kissing her cheek as he turned to a movie they wanted to watch. Y/N settled her head into his lap, and he stroked her hair.
“So what do you and Hobi plan to do?”
“A festival coming up next week seemed pretty cool.”
“Oh? What festival?”
Y/N reached over to grab her phone and scrolled through her messages. “Um, a Midsummer festival.”
His eyes widened. “Midsummer?”
“Uh-huh.”
His brows knitted in confusion as he began to mutter to himself. “Midsummer? Already? Couldn’t be.”
Y/N twisted to look up at him with concern. “Jin, what’s wrong?”
He glanced at her as a small smile appeared. “Nothing. Seriously.”
“Are you sure?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his face. Y/N tried not to worry, but Jin had one of the most expressive faces. If he was upset or happy, it showed on his face.
The week went by without issues until she came home one day to Jin and Hoseok whispering to each other. They stopped talking once she entered the living room and returned to playing their video game.
“That wasn’t suspicious at all,” she commented as she placed her bags down.
Hoseok chuckled, giving Jin a long glance. “How was work, Y/N?”
“It was work. How was y’alls day?”
Jin pressed the pause button, but to Hobi’s dismay, and finally looked at his girlfriend. “Good. Are you busy this weekend?”
Y/N walked over to scan the calendar on the corkboard. She shook her head, turning back towards him.
“No. I’m free this weekend. Why?”
“Just be ready around seven and dress up. I’m taking you out on a date.”
Her jaw almost reached the ground.
---
“Jin?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Are you sure it’s safe to be out here?”
He turned to look at her with a grin. “Of course.”
“But–”
“Do you notice anything?”
“Notice what?”
“Exactly. No one is looking at me.”
He was right. No one gave him a second glance. It felt strange. The horns on his head didn’t cause any alarm. The Faun was finally out in public with his girlfriend. As they sat there at the restaurant enjoying each other’s company, Jin couldn’t help but feel relieved. He could finally be out in public with Y/N.
“So why can we be out like this?” she asked as they walked through town.
Jin brought her hand to his lips, giving her an endearing smile. “It’s midsummer night, Princess. The longest night is during the summer solstice. I can walk around and be seen, but not as a Fae.”
Kissing her hand, he noticed it calmed her as they continued their walk.
“So where are we going?”
Jin chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “It's a surprise.”
She quirked her brow at him inquisitively. She didn’t enjoy surprises, but she trusted that Jin wouldn’t do something too extreme. As they walked through the town, she noticed as they approached a park with a gazebo in the middle. The gasp that left her lips was enough evidence for Jin to know she was pleased.
Fairy lights tingled around the railings with flowers and ivy wrapped around them. A table was set with the works, champagne chilling in a bucket as soft music played from the speakers.
Y/N turned to look at Jin in disbelief. “Why? How?”
He reached up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. “Hoseok helped me set this up.”
“This is beautiful,” she whispered.
“Hardly pales in comparison to you, Princess,” he replied.
Her face heated up from his words, and he laughed at how cute her response was. He led her to one of the chairs and helped her into the seat before taking his own. Y/N was in awe, looking around the gazebo.
They outdid themselves. She made a mental note to get Hoseok. He could never keep a secret, so it was amazing how he held it in.
Now that she was here, Jin had become visibly nervous. They enjoyed the grilled vegetables and chicken meal as small talk carried on. He fiddled with the napkins while trying to think of something to say.
“–Jin?”
He blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?”
Y/N looked at him curiously. “Are you okay? You seem quiet.”
He gave her a small smile before clearing his throat and drinking some water. It was now or never. “Y/N?”
“Yes?”
Jin stood from his seat and buttoned his jacket. Clearing his throat again, he held his hand out for her to take. Y/N wiped her mouth and grabbed his hand as he walked her over to one of the archways. Staring into her eyes, it calmed him down a bit.
“Y/N, we've been through some tough times. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through before we met, but since then, I never wanted to see you cry again. These three years have been the best time of my life, and I want to continue this journey with you.”
Was this happening? Y/N was speechless as she listened to Jin. It was happening.
Jin dropped to one knee, holding a small box covered in crushed velvet. As he opened it, she let out a choked sob. The rose gold band glittered with garnet gems.
“Will you marry me, Princess?”
Still fighting back the tears, her head bobbed. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, Seokjin.”
He slipped the ring on with care before pulling her into his arms. It seemed as if time stopped. It wasn’t until his lips brushed hers that she was taken out of her trance. She gripped the front of his shirt, deepening the kiss. Jin groaned into the kiss letting his tongue swipe her lips. Y/N obliged, moaning softly. Jin shuddered as soon as her hands left his chest and reached to caress his horns.
He broke their kiss, breathing hard.
“You know what that does to me?”
“Of course, I do, Jin,” she cooed softly.
Growling, he gripped her waist and shoved her against a pillar. “So you want to do this right out in the open?”
A mischievous grin crossed her face. “Sounds tempting.”
She leaned closer, nipping his neck as he bit down on his lip. “I promise not to be too loud.”
Jin panted as he pulled up her dress with a smirk. “Fuck that. I want everyone to know now.”
Y/N wasted no time unzipping his pants. So much franticness at the moment, wanting only to reach one goal together.
Not much prep work was needed as Jin’s cock slapped out onto his stomach, the cum dribbling down an angry head. Y/N licked her lips as she slipped her panties down. Jin grabbed them, putting them in his back pocket. Grinning, he hiked up her leg, wrapping it around his waist. Jin slipped past her folds with one fluid motion after getting her consent. His head dropped to her shoulder as expletives flew from his lips.
“So tight, Princess. And all for me.”
“Uh-huh. M-Move Jin. P-Please,” she begged.
His hips snapped forward as lustful noises erupted in the gazebo. Jin settled between the swell of her breasts, licking, sucking, nipping her flesh as marks began to bloom. Y/N’s nails dug into his shoulders, holding on for dear life—skin slapping skin.
Promises pass their lips in their haze of pleasure.
“I love you, Princess,” he murmured.
“I-I l-love you too, Jin. Fuck, right there. Yes!”
“I wanna cum deep in that pussy. May I, Princess? Can I fill you up?”
“Yes! Please!”
He slowed his movements, letting her feel every inch. Her walls clenched around him as he kissed her feverishly.
“I’m so close, Jin. P-Please,” she purred into his ear.
“Cum with me, Princess,” he husked out.
At that moment, as his movements stuttered, Y/N clamped around his cock as she felt the spring unravel. Gasping, she cried out as Jin let out a long groan; he twitched before painting her walls white, filling her to the brim.
They lay against the pillar catching their breath, until Jin gently placed her on the ground, holding her up. Y/N pecked his lips as a sigh of contentment passed her lips. Jin stroked her hair, smiling at her.
“How are you feeling?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I never excepted to be engaged or even have sex outside in a park.”
Jin’s distinct laugh had him tipping his head back. “Okay, the latter was not planned, but I have to say, now that I know you like exhibitionism–”
“Aht. Aht. Let’s not get carried away. I got caught in the moment.”
“It was a great moment.”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You lucky I love you.”
Jin kissed her forehead, nuzzling her cheek. “I love you too, Princess.”
Summary: In the futuristic world of Europa, Queen Venetia rules her land an iron fist. None are more feared than the Akeran, an alien race Earth fought eons ago, who bear a remarkable similarity to the angels of lore. When you find yourself at odds with the Queen, it seems that there’s no safe place on Earth for you to run. Nowhere but your mysterious rescuer, and even he may be more trouble than he’s worth.
[ A re-telling of the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros ]
[Prologue]
“Y/N, wake up.”
You hear, rather than see your blinds being pulled away from the windows. Feeling the sun too bright upon your eyelids, you let out a groan and bury your head in the pillows.
A tried, male voice lets out a sigh. Silence follows, save for the quiet – yet menacing – sound of his foot, tapping against the wood. You ignore him, almost drift back to sleep when your room abruptly fills with noise. From deep beneath your pillow mountain come the sounds of the world’s headlines.
“TWO HOUR DELAY ON THE TRANSATLANTIC DUE TO OVERBOOKED BULLETS…”
“RUMORS OF THE CONGICAN GOVERNMENT SUPPLYING EUROPAN REBELS WITH WEAPONS…”
“EUROPA DOLLAR DROPS COMPARED TO CHINESE YEN…”
Taehyung, your assistant, exhales while clicking the channels. “Boring, boring, boring.”
Though you’re not looking, you can see him in your mind – both arms likely crossed, eyes wide behind tortoiseshell frames while impatiently flicking his iComm at the screen. Taehyung – stubborn, brusque, not afraid to tell you how he feels. One of the main reasons you chose him as your assistant.
A reason which seems stupid, when Taehyung abruptly yanks the comforter off your bed.
“Hey,” you gasp, feet exposed to bitter cold – you draw these quickly upwards, like your bony body frame could ever suffice for a blanket. “A little warning,” you groan, burying your head further.
“The first warning was your blinds,” Taehyung cheerfully explains. “The second warning was the screen. This is actually the third warning and if you don’t get up now – a bucket of ice water is next.”
He sounds just threatening enough to make real of the promise, so you crack open one eye. “I’m up,” you grumble, rolling sideways. “I’m up. No need to waste good water on me.”
Plastering a huge grin on your face, you slide out of bed and head into your bathroom. Turning on the water, you begin to brush your teeth with large, exaggerated movements – as though to prove how awake you are. You’re rewarded by the sound of Taehyung’s laughter, loud from the next room. As he walks away, you see him already re-absorbed in his iComm – probably lining up the rest of your day’s schedule.
Taehyung always has a million things to think about, a million things to do because you’re currently the most popular movie star on the planet. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you switch the angle of your toothbrush and touch your iComm to the surface. News leaps from the device to your reflection, as you flick past the stories. Dropping Europan dollars, the movements of Congican rebels – seeing this, you pause, reading the word Akeron.
The Akeron. An alien race, one that’s been of great fascination to you. For many years, there have been peace between your people – but it wasn’t long ago, a furious war raged between the two worlds.
Today’s story is an interview, given by an Akeron historian insisting the alien race is set to invade Earth through your iComms. iComms – short for individual Communication device, one of which, you hold in your hand now. Setting your toothbrush back in the holder, you begin to brush your hair while the clip continues to play.
REPORTER: “Dr. Simms, why do you think the Akeron are still a threat to Earth?”
DR. SIMMS: “I think the better question is, why do some people think they’re not? This may seem shocking, but there are people out there who want to befriend the Akeron. It’s the nature of time, isn’t it? As the years pass, we become accustomed to peace. We start to think, ‘Oh, maybe we were wrong. Maybe the entire war was fought over a misunderstanding. Maybe the two of our species can coexist,’ but these people are wrong. If you didn’t see the war firsthand – if you didn’t see the destruction it brought, it’s easy to forget.”
The historian speaking a twitchy man – each sentence is punctuated by him slapping the armrest of his chair, shifting uncomfortably when he does. In between words, he twirls his pen with long, bony fingers. While the reporter continues to respond, you read the brief history of Earth and Akera scrolling across the page.
SCRIPT: EARTH BEGAN EXPLORING SPACE IN THE EARLY 2050’S, AN ATTEMPT TO FIND A PLANET WHICH COULD HOLD THE SOLUTION TO EARTH’S GROWING CLIMATE PROBLEM. IN 2106, HUMANS LANDED ON AR-VII, AN INHABITABLE MOON IN THE NIVIRE GALAXY. A COLONY WAS ESTABLISHED IN 2110 AND IN 2112, EXPLORERS DISCOVERED WHAT APPEARED TO BE AN UNINHABITED TRADING POST ON THE FAR SIDE OF AR-IIV. THE AKERON PEOPLE (PLANET XII754) REVEALED THEMSELVES TO EARTH IN 2115 AND FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS, EARTH AND AKERA CO-EXISTED PEACEFULLY. BETWEEN 2115 AND 2140, HUMANS REPEATEDLY ATTEMPTED TO EXTEND THE COLONY BEYOND THE EXISTING BOUNDARIES. EACH ATTEMPT TO DO SO RESULTED IN A LOSS OF MOMENTUM, AND THE HUMANS PULLED BACK AFTER A FEW MONTHS ON THEIR OWN ACCORD. EARTH-BOUND HUMANS BECAME SUSPICIOUS OF THE PATTERN AND INVESTIGATED THE INCIDENT IN THE YEAR 2145. THEIR LEARNINGS SHOWED THE AKERAN POSSESSED A DANGEROUS POWER – PERSUASION; WHEREIN THEY CAN MANIPULATE HUMAN EMOTION FOR THEIR OWN, PERSONAL GAIN. WAR ERUPTED OVER THE DISCOVERY 2150, ONCE TENSIONS ESCALATED BEYOND CONTROL. THUS, BEGAN THE FIRST WORLDS WAR. HEAVY CASUALTIES RESULTED ON BOTH SIDES, WITH OTHER GALAXIES EVENTUALLY INTERVENING TO SAVE BOTH CIVILIZATIONS FROM EXTINCTION. LINES OF PEACE WERE DRAWN, AND UNEASY PEACE WAS BROKERED BETWEEN AKERA AND EARTH. EARTH DECLARED ITSELF A NON-HABITABLE ZONE FOR THE AKERAN PEOPLE. MOST LEFT EARTH IMMEDIATELY – THE FEW WHO REMAINED WERE IMPRISONED, AFTER A FAILED COUP-D’ETAT BY THEIR POPULATION. AS OF TODAY, THERE ARE NO AKERAN LEFT ON THE EARTH’S SURFACE.
You stop pretending to brush your hair, reading the words flashing across the bottom of the screen. Your interest in the Akeron is a closely guarded secret. One you’ve never dared tell for fear you’ll be considered crazy – or worse, branded a traitor.
With snowy wings, midnight hair and violet eyes, the Akeron look just like angels. Likely, they were the angels of old religion – there are several historians who’ve validated the Akeron presence on Earth for several millennia back. It was the Akeron, who first gave fire. The Akeron, who built the pyramids and invented the wheel. Each inexplicable, unexplainable event of human history: it can be explained by the Akeron.
Physically, the Akeron are beautiful. You’ve never seen one in person to verify this fact – only in propaganda, or through the screen of your iComm. Though the messages beneath their photos are usually terrifying, you can’t help but linger on their beauty. Hair silken as night, skin smooth as ivory but most incredible of all are their wings. Wings, stemming from their backs to brush the sky.
It’s small wonder, humans used to think them angels. The Akeron are oddly humanoid, if you look beyond their wings and their eyes. If it weren’t for those two features, they could easily pass for Earthlings. It’s the eyes, though. Eyes the color of violets and sunrise; on your iComm, the photos of Akeron always seem to be staring at you. Scientists explain that they don’t blink due to a heavy, purple-hued shield covering their retinas, the purpose of which blocks out foreign particles during flight.
Still, it looks freaky in photos. You blink looking at the photo – it breaks your staring contest in the mirror and you look awkwardly away.
“So, it’s a pr-etty busy day,” Taehyung admits, sauntering back into the room. Whenever Taehyung admits to something being busy, it means it’s probably unbearable. “At 9:00 am, there’s a promotional talk about the Fresh Water campaign,” he continues, munching on an apple he’s pulled from god knows where.
Your gaze moves to his in the mirror. “The what?”
“There’s a lack of Fresh Water,” Taehyung explains, waving a hand. “Company X is going to solve all that. You support Company X – Company X gives Y/N and Taehyung money in return.”
“Got it,” you mutter, turning away. Promotional appearances are just part of the job.
“From 10:00-10:45, there are touch-ups for that United Nations spot. You know, the one with the flag...?” Taehyung trails off, looking as though he’s trying not to laugh.
“And the crown?” you groan, nodding glumly. “Yep. Great.”
Just add this to the list of awful photoshoots, honestly. The UN shoot was for national pride or something, you faintly recall the messaging while getting your hair pinned into place. It was implied the Queen herself asked that you do it – though you highly doubt this to be true. The Queen has far better things to do than concern herself with you, a movie star.
Taehyung continues talking, reciting a fifteen-minute break for lunch, a couple of limo rides and one meet and greet with fans. You tune all of this out, allowing your mind to wander away.
“Are you listening to me?” Taehyung suddenly interrupts, one hand on his hip. “What if I walked out now, let you get dressed by yourself? You’d probably wear something awful, like chartreuse. Oh,” he blurts suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Chartreuse.”
“Veto,” you respond, wrinkling your nose. “And I am listening,” you sigh, even though you weren’t.
Taehyung rolls his eyes, not believing for a second. “Well, you’re going to want to listen to this, since tonight is HUGE.”
Everything is huge to Taehyung. The sentiment is a foreign one since all concept of magnitude and scale for you have long since worn off.
“At 17:00,” Taehyung begins, voice dropping, “you’re doing a news panel… with Queen Venetia!”
Your gaze snaps up, make-up brush slipping to clatter uselessly against the counter. “Is this…” you pause, dazedly shaking your head. “Is this what shock feels like?”
Taehyung laughs. “Get used to it, emotionless girl. You’ll be in her presence in a mere ten hours.”
More than a little shaken, you look at yourself in the mirror. The Queen – tonight you’ll be meeting the Queen and suddenly, everything about you seems wrong. Your hair is flat. Your bangs are long and childish. Your usually dewy skin is dull, grey with the lackluster aura of no sleep and coffee. You tug on your bangs expectantly, as though the motion might cause them to shrink.
“Stop psyching yourself out,” Taehyung calls out as he leaves.
Sticking your tongue out in the mirror, you grab your makeup brush to pick up where you left off. You’ve never met the Queen before, Venetia is older, nearly fifty in Earthen years. She was just twenty-five when she found the throne, when the people crowned her Queen of Europa. This was at the end of the first Worlds War.
Queen Venetia is beautiful, as most things in Europa are. With auburn hair and deep brown eyes, her face is all sharp angles. Rumor has it Venetia is single-minded to the point of ruthlessness, but you prefer to think of her as ambitious. Powerful women are always feared for this fact. For all her potential faults, Venetia united your country. Long ago, Europa was a pitiful coalition of nations trapped by small-mindedness and petty desires. China laughed at you in the distance, growing its economy while you struggled with basic policy.
Being divided was a weakness, one which allowed the Akeron to easy manipulate. During the first Worlds War, Venetia was the leader of an anti-Akeron political faction. Her group gained traction by supplying Earthen troops with both military and money and most historians cite Venetia as the tipping point in the war, due to their funding leading to the creation of the Block. The Block is a (not very creatively-named, admittedly) device able to block the Akeron from manipulating waves of human thought.
The Block forced the Akeron to fight you physically, without their powers – and once this happened, they started to lose. Despite their superior strength and wings, the Akeron are a largely peaceful nation. They aren’t used to altercation and were woefully unprepared for the type of guerrilla warfare Earth instilled. This was one of the main reasons Akera decided to make peace with Earth.
This peace wounded their pride, though, which is why many here on Earth still view the Akeron as a threat. Queen Venetia does – she’s constantly speaking on the dangers of complacency. Peace isn’t bulletproof, she likes to say. In fact, the real dangers posed by the Akeron at the end of the war were so great, it led to Venetia being elected Premier General of Europa.
When Europa consolidated, it became clear that a monarchy was the best system of governance and Venetia became Queen, putting into place a large board of advisers. One adviser exists from each state in the nation, though they hold no real power beyond a certain, antiquated influence. It’s hard for any, one, voice to be heard today. It’s a problem which stems from Europa being divided into so many political factions, making it hard for any one faction to gain enough influence to be heard.
Of course, no one dares say these things out loud. Fiddling with a bobby pin, you stare nervously at yourself in the mirror. Venetia has done a lot for your people, as well as for Europa. She’s a competent Queen, one who’s enabled Europa to hold your own against the remaining global powers.
This is what you tell yourself when you resume brushing your hair, pushing all uncertainty to the back of your mind.
“If you’re not ready to go in five minutes,” Taehyung calls out, bored. “I’m going to take a picture of your messy bedroom and post it online.”
Hurriedly twisting your hair up in a knot, you leave your bangs low for the time being. Both hair and make-up will be touched up at the promo shoot, anyways. While slipping on a pair of printed pants, you hop zipping up a tan, leather top and black ankle boots. With two seconds to spare you walk out of your bathroom, just as Taehyung is entering with his camera app in one hand.
“Oh, good,” he grins, turning this off. “I was afraid you’d make me break my confidentiality agreement.” Taehyung pauses to evaluate you briefly, clinically. “Are you even wearing make-up?”
Shrugging, you shake your head no and wonder if Taehyung will tell you to go back inside. It’s always a toss-up, which he values more – your face in the public eye or your schedule.
“God,” Taehyung groans, turning. “It’s unfair that your face looks like that. Go downstairs and get into the car – the sight of you is making me sick.”
Giggling, you duck past him to head out in the hall. While walking towards the front doors, you glance sideways in the mirrors and try to see what Taehyung does. You tend not to examine your physical appearance too often, since it’s all anyone else seems to notice.
Objectively, you know you’re pretty. Your proportions are even, bone structure delicate and your eyes are a sparkling shade – dark at the edges, before giving way to a lighter center. Your eyebrows were once labeled out of control, but constant styling and tweezing has made them a, ‘defining feature.’
It’s nearly impossible to see yourself as others see. In your mind, you feel your beauty is too much. It’s like looking at the sun when all you really wanted was a candle. In theory, boys and men all want you but, they tend to go for something less threatening. Even other male actors and models won’t touch you. Every night, a different girl or boy is brought back to their bed, but never you. You’re on another level to them, a woman on a pedestal.
Turning away from your reflection, you decide to stop looking. It’s best not to look, before your reflection shows the bitterness of your thoughts.
The iCar is waiting when you step out the front door of the hotel and, fighting the usual barrage of hover-cams and photogs, you and Taehyung slip into the backseat.
“Fuck,” Taehyung mutters, glancing outside. “Those hover-cams need more restrictions, I tell you. It’s perfectly indecent, the way they pop up out of nowhere. You could’ve been naked or doing something compromising.”
“The most compromising thing I’ve ever done, was when I compromised to give up desserts but not salty foods,” you return, arching a brow.
Taehyung sighs, mock-serious. “Now, imagine a camera had been there for that.”
Despite yourself, you smile. Taehyung can be annoying sometimes, but when it comes down to it, he’s the closest thing you have to a friend.
“Front station,” Taehyung intones at the car.
An automated voice indicates affirmation and you pull away smoothly from the curb. Watching the city flicker by, you stare out the shape of your window. The two of you landed late last night, meaning it was too dark to see anything on the drive in. The city today is shrouded in fog, like most places are. Every so often, a sleek black building emerges, only to melt away quick in the sheer wisps of grey.
You think about this often, the fact that most of your life is spent in pieces. A bit of street here, the edge of a lamppost there. Most people only see what’s in front of then – wherever your eyes happen to be looking, at that moment. You’re trained to see only part of a picture, to assume the whole based off those parts. It means limited perception isn’t the fault of mankind, but perhaps your insistence on full perception is.
While the scenery slips by, grey and black are blurred by a stream of cars passing on either side. All too soon, you feel the vehicle slow – pulling off the main highway to approach a large, steel gate. Entering the building, Taehyung rolls down his window to punch in a code on a pad which wasn’t there a second ago. The doors shudder open and you continue, deep into the clear stretch of tunnel. The doors slide shut behind you and you blink, at the sudden flood of light. High-def strips blare to life on either side and when you finally reach the end of the tunnel, your car neatly parks along the side of the landing pad.
“Thanks, machine,” Taehyung says cheerfully, patting the front console before exiting, gesturing that you do the same.
You exit as well, sans the patting.
Entering the building to walk down through the hall, you pass frosted doors which are impossible to see beyond. A seemingly non-descript one is your destination, coming to a stop midway down while Taehyung knocks. A flurry of excitement results at your entrance, your arm immediately grabbed and yanked sideways to sit down at a dressing table. Coughing weakly, your eyes water at the wave of perfumes and hairspray, watching while your hair is brushed and combed, neatly styled in place. Your eyes are lined in kohl, lips plumped and glossed to perfection. By the time the artists are done, you barely recognize your own reflection, which honestly suits you just fine.
Your clothes are declared edgy and boho-chic – whatever that means. At least it means you get to wear your own items. While they’re pulling and prodding your body, you read through the speech you’re supposed to give at the event. It’s lengthy, boring and makes you sound like a complete idiot. You think this is probably a bad thing, the fact that you don’t care.
The moment you think this, you wince. You don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You know in theory, you have a good life. You’re wealthy, famous, considered incredibly beautiful by many. You’re beloved by the public, without any physical hardships to speak of. It’s hard not to notice the gaps though, the holes in your life which exist around facts. You’ve never had a friend, nor even a boyfriend. Your parents died tragically when you were young, though the tragedy has somewhat escaped you, because it was so long ago, you can barely remember them anyway. There’s a hole in your life, where attachment should be and sometimes you wonder what the point is, without the quintessential kinds of relationships the world seems to love. Ironic, that the world’s interest in you has led to your disinterest in the world.
Once your skin is considered flawless and your eyes inhumanely perfect, you’re led aside to a small, white waiting room. The furniture, the walls are all blank and you quietly pass the time alone with yourself. Perched on the edge of the couch, you recite your speech in a voice no louder than a whisper.
Water, the most important substance on Earth…
The rest of the day passes in the usual blur of lights, applause and handshakes. The meet and greet is your favorite part of the day, like usual. You love meeting the children and making them smile. Less fun are the older men you’re forced to hug, pretending not to notice when they try and cop a feel. Worse still, are the men your own age. The ones you don’t know how to converse with, nor they to converse with you. Give you a script and you’ll dissolve into character within seconds, filled to the brim with quippy retorts, snappy comebacks and romantic banter. But place you, the real you, in the middle of a room full of men, and you get something like this:
“Hi.”
Unidentified male looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. “Uh, hi.”
Long pause.
“So,” you cough, shifting your weight. “Did you travel far today?”
Refusing to make eye contact with you, a bead of sweat rolls down Average Guy’s perfectly cute forehead. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Travel can be fun.” Travel can be fun? Why would you say that? “I do it a lot,” you inform, wondering why speaking is so hard.
“Yeah, for sure.”
This is usually the point where either A) the guy looks around in panic, or B) where he steels himself suddenly to look you in the eyes. Either way, the result which follows is rarely positive.
“…”
Silence, just silence. This is usually the end of things because the guy will inadvertently look stricken – unable to believe you look like this in person, as though he thought every photo, each video and broadcast was a trick. Some sleight of hand which made you invincible. After they look at you, there’s typically only one of two options. Most lapse into stunned silence, going through the motions of a handshake or hug with you – maybe a photo before they’re pulled slowly away by your guards. The rest adopt a sleazy bravado, as though trying to prove you don’t affect them. Today was no less than six of these jerks and when the event is finally over, Taehyung shakes his head from side to side.
“I don’t know how you put up with those people,” he mutters softly.
“They’re not all bad,” you sigh, thinking about your last guest. A little girl, no older than three who hugged you and said, “beau-thi-ful,” through the brunt of her lisp.
“You must be a saint,” Taehyung laughs, scrolling through his iComm. “Actually – from the way the people worship the ground you walk on, you might as well be.”
When he says this, you look down uncomfortably. By now, it’s hard not to believe in a higher power. Your life has held too much cruel irony, for someone not to be pulling the strings. Only some omnipotent, slightly sadistic other being could take someone as shy and introverted as you and give you the face that you have.
Upon entering your second iCar of the day, the two of you are swept away to an unknown location. Taehyung is too absorbed in his iComm to explain, flicking past messages with the touch of expert fingers.
“Oh, look – the prints from the touch-up are done,” he announces, turning his device around to look. Taehyung manages to keep a straight face as he does, which means that the moment you see them, you nearly spit out your drink from laughing.
“Oh, dear god,” you laugh, grabbing the iComm. “These are absolutely terrible.”
Taehyung starts to laugh, openly cackling while you flip through his iComm. A few weeks back, you did this photoshoot for the UN for World Unity month. The theme of the shoot was national pride, with a spokesperson from every nation chosen to take part in an interview and photo shoot. You were chosen for Europa, which came as a huge surprise. Typically, Venetia is the one who’s asked to do such things.
‘The Darling of Nations,’ reads the caption and while scanning the article, you’re surprised to find you sound rather intelligent. Your interviewer was impressed with your knowledge of current events, and the chat gradually drifted from a teen, fluff piece into something more.
The photoshoot, though. The photoshoot is comical, at best. Europa is a nation of monarchies and as such, they thought it’d be brilliant to dress you up in a crown – one so loaded with diamonds, your head still aches from the thought. Just a crown, though – nothing else, beyond the national flag. Said flag is draped provocatively across your frame, shadowing all the right place to provoke desire and not much else. It’s an interesting contrast to the content of your article, that’s for sure. The piece below it isn’t nearly so scandalous.
“I mean, I get that they’re trying to promote international unity,” responds Taehyung, tapping the frame. “But maybe they’re trying to promote other unity, as well…?” He raises both eyebrows suggestively, while you promptly sock his arm.
“I have no control over what they do or don’t make me wear, dickwad,” you grin, flipping your hair before looking outside the window. Taehyung continues to laugh on the seat beside you, while you mostly ignore him. Despite this, you’re in a remarkably good mood arriving at the Sveen Hotel.
No less than ten guards scurry outside to greet you, surrounding your car to open the frame of your door. “Looks like a storm brewing, Ma’am,” one nods, holding out an umbrella. “Best be getting inside.”
When he says this, you look up to see that yes, it is dark but then, this also isn’t unusual. When the skies aren’t covered with man-made smog, they’re enclosed by disasters of the Earth’s creation. Weather hasn’t been stable in nearly fifty years; that teetering balance of climate change tipped long ago.
The umbrella is opened over your head, lest your perfect curls and makeup be ruined, and you allow yourself to be herded, hustled inside while the skies open above you. Rain slams to the pavement, bouncing at your ankles when you enter the building. In the ensuing silence of the doors, you pause, shaking water free from your shoes. Tall, black beams rise from the floor, interwoven before you to meet in a peak overhead. The floor beneath you is obsidian, polished and gleaming in electronic candlelight. The sight of it is beautiful, a little over the top, if you’re being entirely honest.
Kind of like the woman walking towards you.
Queen Venetia is tall, stately with deep, red hair and pale skin. The set of her face is elegant, nose sharp amidst high brows and cheekbones. Her face is expressive, those arching eyebrows able to be a person all by themselves. Right now, though, they rest in a thin line. She mutely takes in the rest of her surroundings – including you, acknowledged with a quick sweep of her gaze.
Standing in the entryway, damp pants clinging to your legs and complexion windswept – you find yourself flooded with feelings of inadequacy. When Venetia comes to a stop before you, the emotions only intensify. It’s amazing, how she manages to look down her nose at you, despite being the same height – if not slightly shorter. Venetia seems to be one of those people always at the center of the room. Even standing in a corner or off to the side, every eye turns her way out of respect. She’s a black hole, in that way; sucking in gazes, thoughts, the attention of others. Even light can’t escape – there’s no shine to her hair, nor her eyes; rather, they seem to be the most severe form of matte. She exists to draw in color, but not release it.
It’s odd but standing here you feel a similar pull towards the Queen. Your entire body is riddled with awe and unsure what else to do, you make an awkward attempt at a curtsy. Glancing upwards, your breath quickly catches at the murderous expression on Venetia’s face. This smooths away quickly though, rearranging to one of pleasantry. The rapidness of this makes you question your sanity.
“My darling, Y/N. How wonderful to meet you,” the Queen trills. You must have imagined the earlier expression, since now Venetia is showing such concern and happiness, it’s impossible to imagine her otherwise. Enveloping you in a hug, Venetia turns her lips to your ear.
“Dry your clothes, dear. The cameras don’t like a sullied princess,” she whispers through closed lips. While the Queen pulls away, her smile never wavers. She gestures elegantly at the crowd, linking her arm through yours. “We must away to make-up! Thank you all, for kindly coming tonight.”
As you turn, dazedly led aside by Venetia’s pincer-like grip on your arm, it’s hard to control your rising panic. Still, you keep up the façade until entering a twin panel of doors separating you from the cameras. Venetia’s expression immediately drops, along with your arm.
“Those cameras drive me insane,” she mutters, her clipped tone matching her brisk pace. “What a horrible photo opportunity – the two most beautiful women in the world,” she mimics, lips curling while she walks. “You. You, there,” she intones, snapping her fingers at a black-clad assistant hurrying alongside. “Whose idea was it, having me hug her?” The Queen refers to you as though you’re no longer in the room. “As if it were not enough for me to speak to her, a hug?”
The assistant looks back and forth between you, wide-eyed. “I... I don’t...”
“Oh, forget it,” Venetia snaps, heels clicking against marble while removing a customized iComm from her pocket.
You continue to walk beside her, wondering what, exactly, Taehyung signed you up for. Only a moment ago, the Queen seemed so warm and welcoming but all that is gone, without the face of the cameras. You feel suddenly like a teenager – awkward, gawky, uncomfortable in your skin. Young, juvenile, unworthy. Words swim through your thoughts, dance in the seams to swirl before your eyes.
“Y/N? Y/N?”
Blinking, you realize you almost walked into a door. Your thoughts were so single-minded, so oddly wrapped around your feelings that you exhale, turning around for Taehyung to swim into focus. “Oh. Hi.”
“You okay?” Taehyung looks at you with a semi-concerned expression and you realize behind him, Venetia has stopped to watch.
“Yeah, fine,” you mutter, shaking your head – as though clearing any residual inadequacies.
When she sees this, she smiles, the Queen turning quickly away. Once she’s disappeared, whirled around the corner in a haze of silk and perfume, Taehyung turns his head to look at you.
“Well," he exhales, arching a perfectly-made brow. “What a truly,” you pause, when you shoot him a look, “special woman,” Taehyung finishes, smiling weakly.
“That’s our queen,” you respond, quietly pulling yourself together. Without saying another word on the matter, you enter the dressing room. Whatever the Queen’s feelings are towards you, whatever that interaction just was – you’re here because you have a job to do. Nothing more.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t vote for her,” Taehyung grumbles, following behind.
His words are utter nonsense, or course. A slur used throughout Europa to describe dissatisfaction with the Queen. The idea of democracy is now laughable, thought you cannot deny it holds a certain appeal. Having the power to be heard, to make a difference – well, it sounds like paradise. The only way to make change today is to be rich. Or powerful. Which really, means being rich.
Whenever reporters ask Queen Venetia, “Your majesty, how has Europa’s monarchy changed today’s surface of politics?” she always chooses to answer, with a withering look and a shrug.
Her answer is stark. “Simple, it has not changed the landscape of politics at all. True Democracy is a myth, a utopian state which cannot be reached. Truthfully, whether money is controlled behind the scenes or from center stage, it matters very little. Politics and power are always the same.”
The unflappable determination of the Queen has always been an inspiration to you. You’ve wanted to meet Venetia for so long, that to be so instantly despised by her is crushing. It’s your worst fears, confirmed – the fact that you’re not good enough, you never will be. It’s foolish of you to liken yourself to the Queen when you’re very clearly unequal.
She knew what to say, how to walk while single-handedly charming the entirety of the room. It was unnerving, impossible to stand beside. Thinking this now, you very nearly walk into your chair, so consumed by the thought.
“Y/N!” Taehyung exclaims, saving you in the nick of time. “Your head is in the clouds today, I swear. Pull it together before the panel,” he chides, clucking his tongue to walk in the direction of wardrobe.
The panel. A moment of panic follows, as you begin to wish you’d listened to Taehyung explaining this morning. The danger of floating through life is that you tend to miss things and from of the corner of your eyes, you see Taehyung rifling through a stack of outfits laid out for you. He shakes his head at each option – no, no, no.
“This way, Y/N.”
An immaculate woman gestures you follow, so you do. Winding your way through heaps of clothing to the make-up station, you sink into your fourth chair of the day. For someone constantly referred to as the most beautiful face in the world – this sure seems to involve a lot of make-up.
“Just a quick touch-up,” the woman nods – before proceeding to spend over an hour contouring, blending and prodding with numerous instruments of torture.
“You having fun?” Taehyung teases, appearing behind you one hour later. He smirks, bending low to lean his hands on the chair.
“Oh, loads,” you respond dryly.
Taehyung lets out a snort. “Well, whenever you’re ready – I’ve picked out your outfit. It’s fabulous, you’re going to love it.”
“Just a few more minutes,” your make-up artists allow, waving him away and the poking and prodding continues.
It feels like hours, that you stand from your chair and wandering into the dressing area, you find Taehyung has laid out your outfit. A royal blue dress with a plunging back, sensually curving to a point over your rear. Tiny pearls line the seams, stitched upwards to create a truly stunning visual. The dress itself is short, but long sleeved. Classy, yet sexy and Taehyung has truly outdone himself choosing. When you turn to look at him, you find him lounging over yet another chair, grinning.
“Told you,” he declares, waving his hand. “I’m even a little jealous you get to wear that.”
Grinning widely, you grab the dress to disappear behind the curtain. The dress doesn’t have a zipper, just slides up over your body and when you appear from behind the wall, Taehyung lets out a whistle.
“You’re going to blow them away,” he declares, walking forward. “Y/N, if you’re half as smart as you are pretty, the rest of the world doesn’t stand a chance.” Reaching out, he stubbornly fixes a loose strand of hair in your up-do. While he does this, the door slides open to reveal yet another woman in the threshold.
“Hello,” she smiles, walking inside. “I’m Nicola, I work at GNN. I’m here to guide you through a couple points before the panel tonight.” Nicola is beautiful, with flawless dark skin, brown eyes and hair pulled back in a bun. The only makeup she wears is gold eyeliner, which causes her eyes to sparkle. Her face is wide, open and you feel you can trust her instinctively.
She must be dangerous. “Sure,” you smile, pulling out your chair. “What would you like to talk to me about?”
Nicola nods, sitting delicately beside you. “Well, how is your day going?” she asks to break the ice.
You arch a brow, since you’re not used to small talk. “Fine, and yours?”
“Very well, thanks.” Nicola pulls out her iComm to flip through the screens. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” she responds, stifling a smile when you laugh, “let’s get on with this. The segment you’ll be in is a follow-up to your most recent article. A ‘review and react,’ if you will,” Nicola adds pleasantly, glancing upwards.
When she details this, you freeze. Looking over at Taehyung, you see him frowning in the woman’s direction. “React?” he asks, his voice low. “To what?”
Nicola seems surprised by this. “To what? Haven’t you read the article? It’s causing a sensation, and it’s not even published. I think the key points you’ll need to address will be Intergalactic Policy, Democracy in the Present Day, and –"
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Taehyung drawls, holding up a hand. His expression, pleasant before, is now decidedly not. “Hold on. None of this was in the brief I was provided.”
“Yes, well,” Nicola crosses her ankles, the gesture smooth, “the network decided to change tonight’s content rather recently. There wasn’t enough time to notify all parties.”
“Right,” Taehyung’s gaze flickers. “I’m sure there wasn’t.”
Nicola doesn’t respond to this, merely looking away. “Anyways. Your thoughts on the matter, Y/N?”
You’re speechless, staring in horror while you begin to realize the gravity of the situation. Searching through the haze of your memories, you remember being in a rather bad mood the day of the interview. Another arrogant man who looked down on you, who thought you were just another vapid actress he’d need to handhold. When he asked condescendingly if you knew what “colloquial” meant, you began to get mad, and spouted actual opinions – not the usual, boring nonsense you rabbled. The reporter noticeably perked up, engaging you in lively conversation and you were so happy to be seen, you failed to realize what was happening.
That man was a reporter, and you were his prey. A thin sheen of perspiration breaks out over your skin, while frantically try to remember the things that you said “I…” you trail off, looking at Taehyung. “I’m sure there are less sensitive topics to discuss?”
“Oh, no.” Nicola’s response is eager, rising out of her chair. “The people want to listen to what you have to say, Y/N. Ever since the article leaked, do you know how many hits it’s received?”
Mutely, you shake your head no. Whatever the number, it can’t be good.
“Over three billion,” Nicola states, voice quiet. “The article was leaked at 14:00. It is now 16:00. Do you know how many hits per second that is?”
“I can do basic math,” you reply to her, voice stiff.
“Of course,” Nicola responds quickly, almost gently. “I only meant that it’s astounding. You’ve always held mass appeal, Y/N – may I call you that? – but now, with a newfound personality,” she adds, smile widening. “We have a true star on our hands.”
Taehyung snorts to the side, unamused.
“Not that you weren’t already a star,” Nicola backtracks. “The public has always had a certain fascination with you. But may I be so bold, to say that you rarely speak your own mind? You always sound like a character from one of your movies, never entirely yourself. Never Y/N,” Nicola comments – and it sounds as though she may have more, but Taehyung cuts her off.
“That’s enough,” he demands, standing to cross into the room. He plucks Nicola’s iComm from the chair, shoving it into her arms and motioning she leave. “Out, please. I’m sure Y/N can prepare for the rest on her own.”
“I meant no offense,” Nicola responds, as she walks towards the door. On the edge of the threshold, she pauses to look back. “Y/N, I’m rooting for you tonight. Don’t overthink the answers. Your article was a breath of fresh air, honestly.”
With that, she exits, and the door falls shut behind her.
A long, tense silence falls over the room. “Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice is quiet, deadly. “What did you say, exactly, in that article?”
“I don’t know,” you groan, biting down on your lip. Your head spins with the effort, suddenly nauseous. “It might be bad, Taehyung. I was really frustrated and,” you sigh, “I might have… just slipped.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” Taehyung snips, pulling up his ever-present iComm. With a flick of his wrist, Taehyung passes the article from his device to the wall, pulsing before you in living technicolor.
The photos are there, you draped in the flag and smiling coyly at the camera. The caption beneath it reads: “Y/N: more than just a pretty face.” When you see this, you groan, knowing there are worse things ahead.
There’s a quote of you stating, “I believe the Akeron people are misjudged, today.” Another, where you add, “history is written by the victors.” Taehyung continues to flick past each paragraph, mouth becoming a thinner and thinner line in response. He groans at, “the entire point of utopia is that it’s unattainable – it’s man’s endless drive to reach beyond that has historically, driven progress.”
When he reaches the end of the article, Taehyung clicks off his iComm. “I think… that’s enough,” he responds, looking a little sick. “I – well,” he pauses. “It’s small wonder, Venetia doesn’t seem to like you.”
Your laughter is manic, a high-pitched sound more hysterical than comical. “Yeah, after I publicly shat upon her monarchy and global policy, it’s understandable she’s not overly fond of me.”
“Not only that, Y/N.” Taehyung exhales, looking up from a second article he’s reading. “Just look at what you’ve started.”
Walking over to the window, he yanks back the curtains and looks over expectantly. Gathering your courage, you walk up beside him and let your gaze tentatively drop down below.
“Oh my god,” you whisper.
People. Lots of people – hundreds, maybe even thousands. All of them craning their heads to look and when they see you standing there, they start to applaud. There come shouts of your name, shouts of approval and with your eyes wider than normal, you watch the drapes fall from his hand. “Taehyung,” you exhale, looking his way. “What do I do?”
Taehyung continues to stare at the curtains, jaw tight. “Y/N, I have no idea.”
You’re sweating, standing in the wings of the GNN news set. Tonight’s panel is comprised of a semi-circle of couches, set in the middle of a studio – mirror cameras wrapped on all sides to catch every angle. Mirror cameras – just the thought of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s a self-centered, narcissistic invention at best; a camera which is also a mirror, enabling the person being filmed to see every flaw of themselves.
Shifting nervously, you try to calm yourself by memorizing the details. It’s a game you play when you’re bored – which is a lot of the time, on your modeling shoots.
“Good evening, citizens of Europa! Welcome to the nightly news, here at Global News Network.” The announcer sits at his desk, speaking with an eagerness that exhausts you. He’s middle aged, tanned with slicked-back hair and when he flashes a smile and winks, you wince away from the wings.
“Our first guest is new. You may know her from her movies or one of her many digital spreads. Or maybe even the tabloids,” he winks, insinuating edge to his tone. “The always lovely,” he drawls, “slightly controversial,” he gestures, “darling of Europa –Y/N!”
The lights pan lower when you enter, walking out of the wings to wave at the mirrors. Smiling happily, you mouth, “hello!” to the cameras.
When you sit, you purposefully turn your back and draw attention to your dress. The newscaster takes the bait, making small talk about the designer while you nod and smile, emitting one-word answers. The newscaster’s script flashes red on the mirrors, reminding that you need to keep to a schedule and with an apologetic smile, he turns around to the audience.
“Y/N caused quite a stir these past few hours, hasn’t she?” he asks, titters answering from the dark. You sit there motionless, beatific smile frozen while you pretend you can’t hear. “Her article brings into question the very pillars from which our society is built – proving brilliant brains, to rival that incredible exterior. Is a militaristic dictatorship still necessary? Do the Akeron still pose a threat to the Earth?” The announcer arches a brow, as though posturing his doubt. “We’ll find out, in tonight’s panel.”
Leaning back, he turns to face you. “Over the next hour, we’ll explore these issues and more. Now, some of you may not realize how high this woman’s influence reaches,” he chuckles, leaning conspiratorially into the lens. “But tonight, our World Unity spokeswoman’s thoughts captured more than just our attention. Oh, yes – tonight we will hear a rebuttal from none other than Queen Venetia herself!”
Even though you knew this was coming, your stomach drops at the mention of her name. You mutely applaud when she enters, eyes transfixed on the Queen as she crosses the stage. There’s no girly waving when she walks, merely a nod of acknowledgement from one screen to the other. Her smile doesn’t quite meet her gaze, which remains cold when looking at you. She’s dressed in an elegant black pantsuit, looking equal parts understated and in command while walking into the room.
The announcer stands to shake her hand, eyes widening, when she deigns to give him a smile. Venetia sits in the chair opposite yours, demurely crossing her ankles to gaze, stone-faced, at the cameras.
“Two of the most beautiful women in the world tonight,” the announcer chuckles, sitting back down. “I’m truly a lucky man,” he adds, while Venetia laughs easily.
“Ah, Charles – you do flatter us,” she winks, lightly touching his arm.
Charles – that’s his name. You recall this with a snap, dejectedly noticing that Venetia is so much better at this than you. When a beam of light swivels, momentarily blinding Venetia – you shake your head sideways, feeling suddenly lighter. Your thoughts were self-deprecating, more so than normal and turning away, you reaffirm your decision to ignore the Queen. Tonight, is about damage control, deflecting the results of the article.
With a tiny tinkle of laughter, you cross your ankles. “Thank you,” you murmur, lowering your eyelashes – forcing the entire room’s attention to you, while Venetia’s eyes narrow.
“Let’s dive right in, shall we?” Charles asks, blissfully oblivious to the tension before him. “Y/N, in your recent article you state you believe the continuation of a monarchical regime may limit our capitalistic growth. Why did you mean by this?”
Ah, shit. “Wow, Charles,” you smile. “You weren’t kidding about jumping right in.” A laugh track plays somewhere in the back, as you airily wave a hand. “I meant only that diversity is key in economy. Here in Europa, we have a very diverse population.”
The announcer raises a brow. “Ah. Perhaps you misunderstood my question. If I was too complex,” he frowns, “let me know. Did you have help, when you gave the earlier article?”
A slight buzzing crawls over your skin. Staring at this man, listening to the way he dismisses you, the blood in your veins starts to boil and, fingers tightening on your armrest, you struggle to control your emotions. “Not at all,” you respond pleasantly. “The idea of a monarchical system of governing being the sole driver of a nation’s economy is presumptuous, of course – but there’s no denying it has significant impact.” When Venetia’s eyes widen, you realize your mistake – but now it’s too late to backtrack. You’ve already lost your temper, already said your piece and now there’s nothing to do but continue. “The consolidation of power in one person,” you state, refusing to look at the Queen, “places limitations on the creativity of the masses. It eliminates the ‘think tank’ effect, if you will.”
“The ‘think tank effect,’” Charles jumps in, eagerly turning to the camera, “is a theory popularized in the twenty-first century, capitalizing on the worth of general human ideas. It involves a group of people sitting for long periods of time while ideating new concepts and theories. These ideas, in turn, are sold for money.”
“Well, yes,” you frown, “but also for the betterment of society. There was a trend in business, towards the middle of the twenty-first century, where larger corporations drove change; societal change, environmental change, economic change.”
“And look how well that turned out,” Venetia interrupts, her voice soft.
Both your heads swivel her way – only to find her cool, calm, collected.
“It’s true,” you nod, allowing her criticism. “Not all businesses choose to operate for the greater good, but don’t you think that’s driven from a natural human inclination to greed, not from the nature of business?” you demand, meeting the Queen’s gaze head-on.
Her lips tighten, almost imperceptibly. “In which case,” she muses, “monarchy and capitalism are really the same.”
At this, you shake your head. She’s twisting your words. “In some ways, yes. But where a capitalistic society succeeds, and a dictatorship fails,” you wince, when there are audible gasps from the audience. Venetia doesn’t like to be called a dictator. Stammering slightly, you continue, “is t-the delimitation of power, and the pressure of supply and demand. It’s the notion of checks and balances – eliminating individual greed, by having more than one voice in the room.”
From offstage, you see Taehyung’s head fall softly into his hands. It appears you’ve just made things worse – much worse. Charles struggles to regain control over the room, leaning forward – until Venetia cuts him off, dark eyes bright with her anger.
“But why,” she hisses, “should decisions be left to society? Are the masses so faultless, so irreproachable? A few hundred years ago, the people elected puppets into office. Movie stars and TV personas who did nothing but spout childish exhibitions and lead us into war. Why should they, the people, have the chance to break us again?”
Venetia turns towards the cameras. “Our lands have a bloody history from the wants of the people,” she declares – stating the word people, as one might say leprosy or cockroaches. “Each attempt to create freedom and equality led to what? Socialism, communism, war, famine,” she answers, spitting out each word with vehemence. The sound is barely human, a permeating hiss audible throughout the studio.
“We were a laughingstock,” she adds, deadly quiet, “of the universe, due to the wants of our people. The only way to rebuild is through leadership. The only way to be strong is through vision,” Venetia bares her teeth, emphasizing she is the one with that vision. Not you.
Fingers trembling, you lace them together in your lap. She’s right – but no, she’s also not. Blinking, you attempt to clear your head because it’s odd, your thoughts are all muddled. They keep snaking around one another, arriving at Venetia’s conclusions.
“Strong leadership exists in monarchies,” Venetia declares. “You want a history lesson, little girl?” she asks, turning to meet your gaze. When she does, you recoil – because Venetia’s eyes are pure, unadulterated black. Not dilated, but black in their entirety. You’ve barely time to register this, before Venetia blinks, dark eyes returning to brown and leaving you wondering if maybe you’re the one hallucinating.
Venetia tilts her head. “Allow me to quote Napoleon,” she continues. “’One bad general is worth two good ones.’ When power dilutes, the entity weakens, and the people suffer. Is this what you want – a weakened state? One the Akeron can attack, or worse?”
The Queen leaves her thought open-ended, settling back while you’re left to consider. Her fire has calmed to a dull flicker, self-satisfied smirk appearing while she waits for you to counter. You’re shaking, sweating and when you look helplessly at Charles, he looks pointedly away. Taehyung is no longer standing in the wings; you notice this fearfully, uncertain when he would have left. He’s no longer there though, meaning you’re alone – except.
You remember the article. You remember Nicola and the hundreds, thousands of people who stood waiting outside and slowly, you turn back to the cameras. You are not alone, you remind yourself – and when you remember this, you open your mouth.
“Europa,” you start. The word is too quiet, so you clear your throat. “Europa is a great nation. A mighty one, with a storied history and complex, cultured assortment of people. At one time we were fractured,” you acquiesce, bowing your head. “We were many different countries, all of them weakened by our divisions. Venetia is right, saying we are stronger now. We are stronger in our unity, but that’s just it,” you exhale, turning to look at the Queen.
When you move, you see even Charles is listening – he’s forgotten his place, leaning forward in his seat.
“We are stronger united,” you repeat. “We are stronger together. Think of a rope. A rope is one hundred different pieces of yarn, wrapped together to form something much stronger. One, single piece of yarn cannot pull a ship. A rope can.”
“Outdated,” chimes Venetia, sounding bored.
“This is not a courtroom,” Charles interrupts. “Continue, Y/N.” The Queen sits up straight, somewhat shocked by his interruption – but Charles pays her no heed, looking at you.
“Europa is a great nation,” you resume, licking your lips, “but we could be better. The limitations on business, individual expression have hindered our ideas, which in turn, has weakened our economy. Other nations – like Congica – export. We only import.”
Taking another breath in, you relish the freedom of speaking your mind. You’re saying too much, you know you are – but you also know the damage has already been done. Looking at Venetia, you see her fuming. Her gaze threatens to strike quick where you stand, so you look up and continue.
“This paranoia over the Akeron, the constant preparation for a war we aren’t fighting – it’s distracting us from our true potential,” you insist, wishing desperately to see the citizens you’re addressing. Instead, all you can see is the mirror image of yourself.
“I’m not trying to overthrow, anything here” you add, somewhat quietly. “I’m not suggesting we reinvent the system, nor that we put an end to the current one.” Looking over at Venetia, you manage to backtrack. “I’m merely suggesting, your Grace, that the people of Europa are worth more than what they’re currently valued.”
That’s it, that’s all you have to say. A dangerous silence falls, radiating from every pore of the room while the Queen seethes before you, though her face doesn’t change. Her beauty is a mask, one which smiles in agreement with everything you’ve just said. Her eyes, though – her eyes on yours are death incarnate.
“Wow, wow! What a night – what a show!” Charles beams, attempting to wrap things up. His naiveté and charm seem to serve as a reminder – the Queen breaks eye contact with you, as turning to face the host.
“Yes,” she laughs, an almost natural sound, “what lively debate!”
Folding his hands before him on the table, Charles nods in satisfaction. “It was, indeed. Unfortunately, this is all the time we have for tonight.” Waiting a beat, pre-recorded groans echo through the studio. “I know, I know,” he smiles, blindingly white. “I’m disappointed, as well. All good things must come to an end though, and we were very lucky to have the whole hour! I doubt this will ever happen again,” he winks, while canned laughter plays.
“Ladies,” he nods, gesturing forward.
At the end of competition, it is customary in Europa to shake the hand of your opponent. It’s a symbol of respect and understanding – and so, you extend your palm. Venetia watches, taking her time, extending so slowly you start to blush in response. When your hands finally meet, you exchange the smallest, briefest of touches before she yanks quickly away.
You blink, taking a moment to adjust to the change and when you’re able to see, Venetia is no longer onstage. She’s gone, leaving just you and Charles alone – while a halo of red-brown, disappears down the corridor. She leaves so quickly, you can’t even be certain it’s her. Charles clears his throat awkwardly, mumbling something about an early dinner appointment before exiting the stage.
You’re now left alone and, heart hammering, you start to descend from the stage. Walking away, you meet the gazes of several curious stagehands, but they look quickly away – exchanging hushed glances and whispers, behind their hands as you pass. You need Taehyung. Need to find him, but while you half-jog through the hall, Taehyung is nowhere to be seen. He should have been there at the end, waiting for you. It’s unusual, that he was not.
“Excuse me,” you ask, tapping a woman on the shoulder. “I can’t seem to find my assistant, could you –”
When the woman sees it’s you, her eyes widen and shaking her head quickly, she brushes past you offstage. It’s strange, and when you try to ask another individual, they barrel directly past you without allowing for eye contact. Slowly, a pit forms in the center of your stomach. It’s okay, it’s fine, you’ll find the way back yourself.
Peering down the hall, you quickly realize all the marble corridors look the same. This was stupid, you shouldn’t have left the set so fast – Taehyung likely just went to the bathroom, will probably be looking for you in a matter of minutes.
Despite telling yourself this, you can’t manage to believe it. Something about this seems off. Something about tonight seems off, as you walk slowly forward. Beginning to walk faster, you berate yourself for your cowardice. Nothing is wrong, you’re being paranoid about that and it’s only after the third or fourth hallway that you notice the quiet.
Taehyung, Nicola, all the skinny, black-clad assistants from earlier – they’re all gone. Steady silence sits in their place, filling the halls with an ominous weight. It presses into your skin while slowly, your speed-walk turns into a jog. Then a run and before long, you’re sprinting, fast through the halls. Shiny black surfaces stare back, reflecting the state of your obvious panic. Skidding around a corner, you pause only remove your god-awful awful heels.
Starting to run again, you have an odd, almost dream-like sensation where you find yourself questioning why, exactly, you’re running – but this moment disappears as quick as it came, when your internal terror eventually wins out. Panic weaves through your veins, forcing you to remember everything said on air and you know that people have been imprisoned for less. The memory of the Queen’s eyes – black and burning – creeps, unbeknownst in the back of your mind. This all can’t be coincidence, it can’t be a dream.
You’re alone, lost – assistant vanished, midway through the show. There’s no way Taehyung would have left you, no way he would have abandoned you so fast. It it’s her, you realize, this must be Venetia.
The moment you think this, there’s a flicker of light and the hall plunges suddenly into darkness.
🌹 summary: a Gothic romance based on the timeless tale of sleeping beauty. what happens when the princess aurora awakes almost a 110 years into the future? a tale where the supernatural creatures meet to win the heart of the princess.
🌹 warning(s): [teaser] mention of biting | [fic] swearing, mentions of blood, biting, violence, (more to come later)
🌹 word count: 488
🌹 a/n: for the bangtan grimm event really excited to see what all these talented creators come up with! hope you enjoy reading them all 💜💜
“Aurora.”
She could see the gardens filled with countless flora and fauna. Her skirts were flowing behind her as she chased the butterflies. The solid floral notes invaded her nostrils as she ran happily through the maze of rose-colored hedges. It felt magical.
Feet bare as the dew skimmed her feet, she felt free.
“Aurora.”
She paused, looking around. The haunting melody pierced her ears. Her bright hazel eyes became unfocused as she followed the music through the winding maze. She could hear nothing but the piece. It seemed as if all other sounds drowned it out. She made her way to the center of the maze to see the angel statue in the center of the water fountain. Her steps stopped as she gazed upon the stranger leaning against the statue. He lifted his head and placed the flute down. Adjusting his tailcoat, he sat up and held his hand out for her to take.
“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
She reached for his hand, slightly jumping at the coolness. He smirked, pulling her closer to him, his hand encircling her waist.
“There’s no need to be afraid.”
She hadn’t realized she had been trembling until he spoke. She nodded as he leaned in close.
“AURORA!”
She turned towards the sound as he frowned, cupping her chin in his large palm.
“Pay no attention, my rose. You belong here with me.”
“I-”
He placed his finger on her lip, silencing her as he grinned widened. She noticed his canines elongate. She gasped as she tried to remove herself from his grasp.
“It’s too late for that, my dear,” he chuckled as she struggled.
Just as she began to scream, his fangs pierced her throat, silencing her.
🌹🌹🌹
Her eyelids fluttered opened slowly. Her vision was blurry at first but gradually cleared as the minutes passed. She looked around at the surroundings of the bedroom—the only light source coming from the skylights. It was bare besides the basic bedroom furniture, except for a large bouquet of roses on the dresser. The sound of the horns from outside the window spooked her, making her cover her ears from the sound. She rubbed her arms, feeling the chill in the room. Her feet touched the floor, making her get back under the covers. Why was it so cold? She felt alone, terrified.
Where was she?
The sound of an instrument made her freeze.
Where had she heard it before?
She sighed and slipped out the bed, noticing the robe hanging off the hook, and wrapped it around her body. She almost didn’t see the balcony doors open, and a figure was standing out there observing the view. They stopped playing once they sensed her movement and turned around. She jumped in surprise upon seeing his face. He bent down on his knee, head bowed.
“Princess Aurora, you’ve been asleep for some time. Welcome to the year 2021.”
◽ Warning(s): Mentions of breakups, slight depression, magical creatures, talking pets, light drinking, a head injury, fainting, heavy kissing, male and female arousal, fingering, dirty talk
◽ Word count: 4.4k
◽ Credits: Many thanks to @8makes1cheese and @shadowsremedy for looking this over and giving me much needed feedback. Yall are amazing!!!!💜💜
◽ A/N: @jinterlude Kimchi love, happy birthday 🎂🎉 to you!!! I hope you enjoy this fic 💜
“Watch it Hobi!” A young woman yelled, running up the stairs after him.
The male grunted as he pushed the door open with his foot, juggling the boxes in his hands. He let out a frustrated noise dropping them to the floor. His eyes met hers, lips already forming a pout.
“Seriously Y/N. How much shit do you own?”
She shrugged walking in to assess the size of her loft. “It’s only a few things.”
He barked out a laugh looking around at the numerous boxes strewn across the floor. “You call this a few? Aigoo.” He removed his hat, brushing his fingers through his auburn tresses with a sigh. “When I said I’d help, I didn’t realize we were gonna spend the whole day doing it.”
Y/N chuckled walking over to pinch his cheeks causing him to groan. “I really, really appreciate you helping me out Hobi. Seriously I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He rolled his eyes, but a smile appeared revealing his dimples. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend,” he teased, poking her nose. “It took all my energy to not go over and beat up Namjoon.”
Instantly Y/N’s smile faltered. She stepped back going over to rummage through one of the boxes labeled ‘kitchen’. Her mood slightly darkened as she thought about her fiancé–correction ex-fiancé. She fiddled with the utensils placing them in a drawer. Hoseok watched her from across the counter.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”
“It’s fine Hobi. I have to deal with it sooner than later,” she reasoned.
True, thinking about Namjoon hurt more than she put on, but couldn’t bring herself to put that burden on her friends. It devastated her very being. They’d been engaged for two long years and dated for four. And now he says he wasn’t ready to commit. She snorted to herself in disbelief. The idiot. A waste of time, she thought, but in reality, one of the best times in her life. He was her better half. He challenged her each day, and she loved that about him. He was so focused and at the time it was endearing, it ended up being what made them drift apart. And here she was, moving into a new place. Though Namjoon offered to move out of their place and she would keep it, Y/N declined. There were too many memories there. She made the decision to move out and find a place far enough away so she wouldn’t run into him. Luckily her friends supported her, mostly Hoseok. He stood by her side, even going as far as to threaten Namjoon.
She glanced up at Hoseok and stretched a reassuring smile across her face. “I promise I won’t break.”
Hoseok squeezed her hand as his face lit up. “We’ll get that smile back up on your face permanently, Y/N. Just will take some time.”
A loud meow cut into their heartfelt moment causing the pair to stare. A sleek Bombay cat had jumped on the counter and gave Y/N a cross look. Hoseok broke out in a laugh and Y/N stared hard at the creature.
“You really know how to ruin the mood Shooky,” she muttered.
The cat merely chirped sitting on its hind legs and began to groom himself. Y/N frowned and waved her hand shooing him off the counter. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to Hoseok. “I just have like three more boxes and then I’ll order something for us to eat. Sound good?”
Hoseok clapped running for the door. “Food?! You said the magic words!”
After a few hours of rearranging the kitchen, Y/N had made a space for her and Hoseok to eat. She ordered his favorite Korean fried chicken with pickled radishes and cucumbers. Hoseok bought a few beers and they sat cross-legged on the floor as they ate. Hoseok held up his beer can with a hum.
“To new beginnings!”
“To new beginnings,” Y/N echoed.
They laughed as Shooky looked up from his food bowl with a crossed expression. Y/N furrowed her brows at her cat, “Don’t give me that look.”
Hoseok chuckled, taking another piece of chicken from the box. “I swear that cat is human sometimes.”
Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “You think? I swear he’s a little grumpy old man. Always judging me.”
He laughed, grabbing some pickled radishes and popping them into his mouth with the chopsticks. “So, what do you plan to do now?”
Y/N shrugged taking a sip from her beer can. “Job hunting tomorrow most likely. I couldn’t stay in that place. Not with him being there.”
Hobi pursed his lips but remained silent. He worried for his friend. She was putting on a front, but he decided to let her be, at least for the next few days. He leaned against the couch feeling stuffed and a bit light-headed. He burped softly with a groan.
“Mind if I crash on the couch tonight?”
Y/N shook her head as she began to clean up their mess. “Be my guest. You’ll probably have to fight for ownership with Shooky.”
Hoseok groaned, eyeing the cat dubiously. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” He cut off with a loud yawn and rubbed his eyes. “Let me help you clean up.”
Y/N tutted, trash in hand as she walked into the kitchen. “Friend or not, you’re my guest. Get some sleep. I’ll bring in a pillow and blanket for you.”
She walked back into the living room to Hoseok already passed out with Shooky laying on his chest curled up. Y/N giggled, snapped a quick picture, and went up to her room. She opened her closet looking around.
“I know I put them someplace,” she muttered.She crouched down looking on the closet floor and sifted through the boxes. Y/N’s phone rang suddenly, startling her out of her daydreaming, causing her to jump and hit the side of the closet. The box balanced on the edge fell over from the force and landed on top of her head.
“Y/N? Y/N?! Y/N!”
She groaned with a wince. Hoseok was staring at her disheveled, hair sticking up on all sides. His eyes filled with worry looking at her. Y/N found herself laying in her bed.
“Fuck, what happened?”
“Your scream woke me up and I found you on the floor knocked out. I think a box fell on your head,” he explained.
Y/N tried sitting up feeling the ice pack on her head. “I feel like a brick fell on my head.”
Hoseok took out his phone. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital. You could have a concussion. I wonder if Jimin is on for tonight–”
“I’m fine Hobi. I just need to take a few painkillers and I’ll be good as new.”
“You sure? You’re not dizzy or seeing bright lights are you?”
Y/N chuckled poking his cheek. “No dizziness or auras. I think I’ll live. I promise if I feel sick, I’ll go to the hospital first thing.”
He didn’t look convinced, but let it be. Instead, he got her the painkillers and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Alright, I’m going back downstairs to sleep. Call me if you need anything.”
Y/N nodded as she settled against her pillows getting comfortable. Once Hobi left her room, her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Y/N woke up to the incessant whining of Shooky. He made his way into her room and made a point to jump on her chest and paw at her cheek. Y/N groaned, swatting his paw away earning a nip on her fingers. She giggled, opening one eye to look at the male cat, amusement on her face.
“You’re relentless. Alright, I’m up.”
Satisfied, Shooky jumped off her chest and sauntered down to the kitchen. “Cheeky bastard,” she muttered, following him. Hoseok had already left by then leaving a note that he’d be back, later on, to see how she was doing. Y/N yawned, sitting on the couch just as Shooky meowed loud for her to hear. He growled, looking into the kitchen.
“What? I’m coming. I heard you,” she snapped getting up. Y/N grabbed his food and sprinkled some into the food bowl. “There. Happy now?”
Shooky swished his tail turning away from her to eat. Y/N shook her head as she watched him and walked away towards the bathroom.
The one thing that sold her getting this place was the bathroom. A shower big enough for two, maybe three people–not that it mattered now. The brick backsplash gave it a unique industrial feel. It was spacious, something her and Namjoon’s old place lacked. Especially when they both tried to get ready in the mornings for work. Her heart twinged for a moment before stepping under the steaming water. She washed away the ache in her heart, her mind thinking about him. It would take some time, but Y/N was determined to move on.
Little did she know it would be sooner than later.
Y/N walked back down the stairs, silk robe wrapped around her body, and drying her hair with a towel. She hummed to herself, making sure not to drip water to the floor. She gave Shooky a smile, scratching behind his ears as he laid on his cat tower, basking in the sun near the windows. Purrs vibrated from his throat as his eyes closed leaning into her touch. Y/N chuckled softly watching her pet. “You can be sweet when you wanna be.”
All at once, Shooky’s ear flattened as he pulled his mouth back baring his teeth, a hiss erupting. Y/N jumped back in surprise by his actions. Shooky was ornery but never hissed at anyone before. She noticed him glaring at the kitchen. Sounds of rustling cause her face to pale.
“What on earth?”
Looking for the closest weapon, she grabbed a tennis racket and crept into the kitchen. As she got closer, the noises grew louder and she could have sworn she heard singing. Fear etched her face as she gripped the handle, praying it was maybe Hobi attempting to cook.
She couldn’t have been further from the truth.
As Y/N peeked around the corner, she was met with the sight of a man...or what seemed like one. His back was turned as he whisked something in a bowl. Shirtless with a pair of dark grey sweatpants fit snug around his waist. His shoulders, broad in width, expanded as the muscles tensed from the movements of his arms. Arms that were quite toned with definition. What made her take pause was the set of horns...yes horns on top of his head ruffled under a mess of dark brown hair.
Just as she stepped forward, he spun around meeting her gaze. He looked perplexed and looked over his shoulder. Once he realized she was looking at him, his jaw slacked, and the bowl fell to the floor with a clatter.
“Oh shit.”
Y/N yelled running at him waving the tennis racket. “Get out of my place!”
“Whoa!”
He crouched, dodging the hits as he tried to run away from her. Y/N, hot on his heels continued to deliver the blows. He turned on her with a snarl and snatched the tennis racket from her hands. She squeaked, stepping back to block him with the couch between them.
“Please don’t hurt me!”
His brown eyes widened as shock read across his face. He dropped it on the floor. Hands up with palms facing her. “Hurt you? Why would I do that?!”
Y/N whimpered staring at him. “B-Because you’re a...a–”
“Monster,” he finished, the tone bitter. Shaking his head, he took a few steps back hoping that would calm her down. “I’m Fae, thank you very much.” A squeaky, nervous chuckled passed his lips as he watched her expression. “No, you just surprised me. The fact you can see me is pretty startling.”
Y/N’s shoulders dropped as she looked bewildered. “Um, what do you mean? Fae? You live here? What? How?”
“One thing at a time Princess,” he laughed, earning a scowl from her.
“Don’t call me that,” she spat back.
“Well you never told me your name,” the charm bursting forth as a smile spread across his face.
Y/N’s mouth formed a snarl gabbing another tennis racket from a box. “That makes two of us. Don’t get so comfortable. I have questions. I want answers.”
He sighed tugging at his ear as they changed bright red. “Putting me on the spot, huh. Fine. For starters, my name is Jin. Kim Seokjin. I’m a Faun...well half. It’s kind of a long story. You see my mother, this gorgeous mortal, went walking through the forest when–”
“Spare me the details please,” Y/N interrupted. “How are you here though? I rented this apartment and it wasn’t occupied.”
Jin chuckled scratching the back of his neck. Y/N watched as he flexed making her dumbfounded for a few minutes before turning her gaze up to his face. Damn he was handsome. Whatever he was, genetics had been good to him. Lips slightly plump, firm chin and sculpted nose, features any woman would fawn over. And the kicker, Jin knew he was handsome. Relished in it. Shamelessly walked around with the knowledge that he was indeed very good looking. He caught on to her stare. He smirked inwardly. Little did she know, but Fauns were quite alluring. Known to be seductive and compelling, they could get whatever they desired. Yet Jin never used his powers for evil. However, he felt flattered from the attention. He turned to her with a nod.
“Yes, you’re correct Princess. The place was empty, but no one, at least any mortal would know of my existence. Fae can’t be seen, plus I placed a veil over the loft so you wouldn’t be able to see me. It’s simple really.”
Y/N yet again looked dumbfounded. Fae? Fauns? Veils? Her mind was swimming, only adding to the oncoming migraine. She groaned, rubbing her head. Jin frowned stepping forward. “Are you okay? You have a bruise on your head.”
“Thank you for pointing it out,” she said rolling her eyes.
Jin shrugged with a sigh. “Did you get hit on the head or something?”
“Or something,” she mumbled, going to sit on the couch. His eyes lit up from the revelation. “Of course. The hit to your head made the veil unlift. That’s why you can see me!”
Y/N flopped back on the pillows as Jin took note of how the robe bunched up to her thighs. “This makes absolutely no sense! Where do you even live here?” Horror came across her face. “Y-You haven’t seen me nude, have you?”
He let out a noise shaking his head profusely. “I live in your closet,” he answered and quickly added, “No! No! I would never. I always left the room or walked away before seeing anything. I’m respectable.”
That made her feel a little better. Maybe being around Jin relaxed her bit. It all still seemed surreal, but more and more she was chipping at the ice from her heart. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N,” she finally said with a genuine smile. Jin returned one with a nod. “Pleased to meet you, Y/N.”
“Oh for the love of all that is mighty, get a room before I barf everywhere!”
Jin and Y/N both turned to see Shooky glaring him as he licked his paw. Frowning he closed his eyes. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”
Y/N made a sound like helium escaping a balloon and passed out just as Jin caught her.
It took some getting used to, but Y/N slowly warmed up to the idea of having a roommate...closet mate? Whatever, Jin was here to stay. She did have to play it off because, besides herself, no one could see him, not even Hobi. Still, Y/N didn’t realize just how complicated things were going to get.
She sat on the couch snacking on popcorn and watching a movie. Jin was by her side, her legs propped across his lap as they stared at the screen.
She cut her eyes to him curiously. He seemed quite vested in the action happening before him, stuffing handfuls of the buttery goodness into his mouth.
“You really haven’t watched this before?”
He shook his head staring at the screen. Shooky walked in front of the tv and plopped down in front blocking their view. Y/N scowled at him. “Move.”
Shooky began to groom himself ignoring her words. Y/N hissed grabbing the spray bottle near her plant. “Move or you’re gonna get sprayed.”
Shooky opened one eye and paused his grooming. “No need to be nasty.”
Jin clicked his tongue and begrudgingly got up, losing the contact between him and Y/N. He wagged his finger at the cat. “Be nice to Y/N. She does a lot for you.”
Shooky guffawed rolling his eyes. “I don’t need a lecture from you, Fae. Maybe if you stop ogling my pet mom when she’s not looking, maybe I’d give you some space.”
Y/N’s cheeks blushed as Jin became flustered. He picked up Shooky and put him outside the apartment as the cat yowled. Jin turned, his back on the door letting out a nervous chuckle avoiding her gaze. Y/N paused the movie, placing the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “Um...wow. Okay then.”
Jin shook his head. “Silly feline. Making up things.”
“Is he though?” She stared up at him searching for the answers. “Shooky has great intuition. I don't think he would lie about that.”
Jin’s horn bumped against one of the hanging ivy plants making Y/N giggle at once. She patted the place on the couch next to her. “Sit, please.”
Jin, with some hesitation, joined her back on the couch. Hands in his lap, he fidgeted next to her. Y/N gave him a sideways look watching his movements. Today he was comfortably dressed in an oversized beige hoodie and ripped light denim jeans. He looked handsome, regardless of how small he seemed enveloped by the hoodie. But Jin was equally entranced by Y/N. During the movie, he couldn’t help giving her glances throughout. The lavender crop top did little to cover her torso and every so often she’d stretch giving him more of a view of her skin. The biker shorts only accentuated the curvature of her hips.
Since moving in, Y/N worked out by doing pilates and yoga. Her way of coping with her recent breakout. Jin would catch glimpses as she mediated with Hoseok, though he struggled to do some of the moves at first. He kept to his word, never using his influence around her. Rather deciding to get to know her and have her make the decision if she liked him as well. Sure he was a Faun, but always a gentleman firsthand.
Y/N smiled bringing her hair off to one side as she looked at him. “Relax Jin. You’re making me tense,” she teased.
Jin let out the breath he’d been holding and chuckled. “S-Sorry I don’t know what came over me. We’re friends. We should be able to sit comfortably together, right.”
“Mhmm,” she agreed. “How about we start the movie again?”
He nodded and they both reached for the popcorn hands brushing. They jumped back, cheeks a shade of scarlet. Jin gestured to the bowl. “After you, Y/N.”
Y/N shook her head. “No, I insist. Please. You were there first,” she reasoned. Jin grinned and shook his head. “Ladies first.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed a few kernels from the bowl. She brought a piece up to his lips, mischief in her eyes.
“Eat,” she whispered coyly.
Jin’s lips brushed against her fingertips causing a whimper to form. Y/N dropped the popcorn and pulled Jin to her crashing her lips against his. Jin wasted no time wrapping her in his arms, closing the space between them. Moans filled the air as they clawed at each other. Jin bit at her lips wanting to feel more of her. Y/N leaned into his touch lost in the swirls of pleasure surrounding them. He pulled away to give them some air, his chest heaving against hers.
“Whoa,” he breathed with a smile.
Y/N licked her lips gazing up at him. “I could say the same,” she responded, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.
Jin closed his eyes with a hum. Y/N zoned in on his horns biting her lip. “Jin?”
“Hmm?”
“C-Could I...touch your horns?”
He opened his eyes in surprise staring down at her. “Really? You wanna touch them?”
Y/N blushed. “Only if you’re okay with it. I was curious about them.”
Jin sat up and scratched his neck thoughtfully. “Wow, um...okay. Yeah, go for it.”
Y/N brought herself up on her knees letting the cushions sag under her. Jin pivoted towards her, a smile lingering on his face. She leaned forward, fingers stretching out to touch. He bent his head at an angle making it easier for her. Nibbling her bottom lip, she ran her fingers along the curve noticing how smooth they felt. Slight bumps and ridges ran over them. They were light brown, beige, and white in color, patterns etched along the edges ending in two sharp points.
Jin let out a breathy snort as she touched them. His heart raced as he felt hot all over. Suddenly he grabbed a pillow and placed it over his front. Y/N stopped her actions and looked down. “Jin, is something wrong?”
He looked away, face completely reddened. “N-No. Why would you think that?”
She pointed to the pillow with a smirk. “I think I have an idea.” She flicked the pillow away to reveal the strain against his denim jeans. Grunting, he clenched his jaw attempting to not make any sudden movements. Y/N straddled him at once placing her hands on each side of his face. “I had no idea that would do that.”
Jin laughed quietly tickling her sides with his fingers. “They’re sensitive, but I already was feeling...bothered from earlier.”
Y/N leaned in and nuzzled against his cheek, nipping at his earlobe. “Wanna continue?”
Jin reached up and gripped the back of her head tugging at her dark hair. “Do you even have to ask?”
Their lips connected once more, this time wrestling for dominance, tongues swirling. The bike shorts barely left any barrier between her mound and his cock. Y/N shivered from the sensation as she started to grind against him. Jin was in bliss wanting to devour her in any way. She clawed at his hoodie until he jerked away from her lips long enough to tug it off leaving him bare-chested. Y/N drank in the sight nearly drooling. Just like the first time she met him, she was entranced by his features, but now she had fallen for his personality.
Jin descended on her neck, bitting, nibbling, and kissing on her sensitive skin. The sounds she created made him crave her more. He gripped the bottom of her crop top waiting for her to give him consent. She nodded and he removed it, sucking in a breath at how beautiful she looked. That guy was a fool to give her up. Perky breasts fit snug into a sports bra, her nipples straining against the fabric. He suckled a spot near her collarbone, a mark blooming as he wanted to lay claim on her. The way she moved against him sent him into a wave of exhilaration that only heightened his excitement. Jin fingers moved from the small of her back down to the waistband of the shorts.
“M-May I?” he whispered against her neck.
Y/N’s head bobbed and she hissed, biting down on his shoulder as his fingers teased against her pussy lips.
“O-Oh s-shit,” she cried, lifting her hips up.
Jin moaned at the painful bite, making him continue his actions. He shivered at how wet she was already. His middle finger pulsed against her clit causing her to do tiny jumps in his lap.
“You feel amazing Y/N,” he cooed, kissing her neck. “I wonder how tight you are,” he asked rhetorically before taking one finger and slipping it into her cunt.
Y/N gripped his shoulders squeezing her eyes shut. “Another...u-use another finger Jin, p-please.”
“As you wish, Princess,” he uttered, making her shiver at the nickname.
He slipped another finger in joining the latter and massaged her walls as he pumped them gently at first. “Y-You feel so good, Princess...you take my fingers so well,” he moaned. She bounced on his fingers crying out each time they brushed on her g spot.
He nibbled on her earlobe groaning as her walls tightened around his fingers. “C’mon Princess. Cum for me. I wanna feel you coat my fingers,” he purred.
That's all she needed. Y/N’s mouth opened into the shape of an ‘o’ as her body froze in mid air just as the warmth in her belly released. Her head flew back as Jin held on keeping her from tipping over. Her body convulsed as tiny whimpers passed her lips as her arousal seeped and coated his fingers and hand.
She melted against him, seeking his lips as they kissed lazily on the couch. Breathing hard, Jin smiled watching her come down for her high. Fingers still snug in her cunt, he didn’t wanna move. Y/N laid motionless for a few moments trying to catch her breath.
“T-That was...you w-were...fuck,” she trembled. Jin winked and gave her a quick peck. “Speechless huh.”
“I’ll say,” she answered.
“Ready for–”
A knock at the door made them freeze. Y/N turned to Jin. “Probably a neighbor. But where were we–”
Another knock.
“Y/N? Y/N are you home? It’s Hobi. I got Shooky with me. Why is he out in the hallway? Are you okay? We were supposed to go for a run, remember?”
Y/N cursed under her breath. “I-I’m coming, Hobi!! Give me a sec.”
They both giggled laying there on the couch. Jin kissed her forehead with a grin. “Second round later on tonight?”
Description: In the futuristic world of Europa, Queen Venetia rules her land an iron fist. None are more feared than the Akeran, an alien race Earth fought eons ago, who bear a remarkable similarity to the angels of lore. When you find yourself at odds with the Queen, it seems that there’s no safe place on Earth for you to run. Nowhere but your mysterious rescuer, and even he may be more trouble than he’s worth.
Description: In the futuristic world of Europa, Queen Venetia rules her land an iron fist. None are more feared than the Akeran, an alien race Earth fought eons ago, who bear a remarkable similarity to the angels of lore. When you find yourself at odds with the Queen, it seems there’s no safe place on Earth for you to hide. Nowhere but with your mysterious rescuer, and even he may be more trouble than he’s worth.
Your entire life, you’ve been called blessed. Blessed by fortune, by fame, by beauty and more. Your birth was the result of an affair, held on set of yet-another blockbuster your parents were starring in. Your parents were actors – were, being the operative word. This was all before the accident, of course.
When you were young, you became famous by association. Your face was plastered across media before you had the capability to understand what it meant. You were that child, the one who broke up two marriages and led to the biggest box office opening of all-time. Your face was the subject of scandal and in magazines, you became referred to only as ‘bastard.’ When you were young, you remember the sight of your mother sweeping glossy magazines into the trash from her counters. Not before seeing though, not before seeing your face and wondering why. Why they were interested. Why they cared about you at all.
When paper milling became outlawed and glossy magazines were a thing of the past, you heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe now, you thought, the people would lose interest.
They didn’t. If anything, the public became even more insatiable. Net news was a continuous thing, a beast capable of great destruction and anxiety. When the magazines stopped, your face went viral. Flashing at you from all angles, burning into the corners of your eyes. Words whipped across your cheekbones like wounds, adorned your skin with phrases, judgement, assumptions. Selfish, adulterous, divorce – words not about you, but your parents and as you grew, as your beauty began to show, the words began to change. Stunning, infamous, blessed. Always bastard, though – that word always remained.
After your parents died, the public changed their view. They suddenly declared you worthy of pity, and the doors began to open. Doors interested in you, due to the beautiful face of tragedy.
As time went on, you learned to associate yourself with headlines. Night after night you stayed awake, watching your face scroll past on the screens. Words, words, always words, which told you everything about yourself you needed to know. Sometimes you wondered if the only reason you were so mysterious, so intriguing was because there was nothing interesting about you. Interesting things happened to you, which wasn’t quite the same. Perhaps you were just better at hiding your nature than most. Perhaps you were just a blank slate and beneath this exterior, this face that they crave, there was nothing.
For whatever reason, the people kept watching.
It would be this, ultimately, which lead to your doom.
