#that old mans seductive nature aside his voice really did sound good at the new york show. like boy was hitting the notes and having fun

[carcarrot]

listening to audio from that night's concert and that old man singing the way he always does is a temptress

[littlefreya]

The Crystal Ship - Part 1

Summary: Henry is the most dangerous crime lord in England, he has everything he wants and women throw themselves at his feet, but what really gets him off is what’s hard to get.

Pairing: AU! Mafia Boss!Henry Cavill x OFC (Ash)

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: Smutty Smut, MaleDom Vibes, Stripping, Bad language, Sexual innuendo, dry humping, bodily fluids.

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this for a while and I only hope you guys will like it. As usual, I am nervous. It was supposed to be a one-shot but ended up being longer than I expected so I am dividing it into two parts for now. Many thanks to @agniavateira my sweet beta and helpful muse. Cover designed by me.

Please leave feedback  💖🥺 and more importantly, enjoy.

Title: The Crystal Ship

The sweet, smoky scent made his nose curl in repulsion. It was thick in the air, like a fruit that was too ripe, mere moments before rot sets in. Henry dreaded coming to the Imperial, even though it was the only safe ground to conduct business without having to deal with the district attorney's snout or any unwelcome eavesdropping. The club felt musty, drenched with bodily fluids and not in a good way. The men who frequented this place were foul animals; being amongst them made him feel as if their filth was rubbing onto him. 

Sitting at the bar, he downed his whiskey, hissing while the fiery liquid hit the back of his throat. The bartender stood behind the counter, polishing some glasses and looking at the large man as he brooded on the sleek black marble of the counter.     

Plastic neon lights flickered magenta and turquoise on the slick surface. An offensive contrast to the gloom that played inside Henry’s head. Life lacked vividness when everything was handed over on a golden tray. Money, beautiful women, fast cars. 

The women of the club were especially keen on throwing themselves at his feet, thirsty for his attention and money which he was never willing to give.

“Please fuck me, Henry.” “Please let me suck your cock.”

As any man, he was flattered, though if he wanted to see a woman naked, he wouldn’t need to pay for it. Still, they circled him, desperately whining at his feet whenever he stepped into the club.

All except for her. 

Big, almond-shaped eyes the colour of fertile light brown earth with a touch of green. Sitting on a barstool in the opposite direction. She was one of the girls working the club, no doubt. He didn’t imagine she was a gangster wearing fishnet stockings and a tight corset.

New girl, he gathered. He had never seen her pretty face before tonight. It was apparent she could sense his glance. Her body shifted uncomfortably, her irises focused on the straw of her tall glass of orange juice yet she never bothered looking back. Not even a smile on her nude lips. 

Henry scoffed as a spike of interest surged through his mind. He spotted the long-haired beauty earlier as he sat through an infuriating meeting. Her big hazel eyes cut into his attention abruptly, focusing on his glare for a wisp before she swung away. 

Treating him as if he was a nobody.

She chose to ignore him, much to his contempt. 

Girl likes to play tough? Well, I happen to like bending things in my hands.

-----------

Ash felt her hand prickle as she waited on the bar stool. Sipping on an orange juice, she watched as an ageing rich couple made out on a red vinyl booth while a curvy girl danced on their table. Candy-Apple, the girl who she was paired with for the night, disappeared to one of the VIP rooms with a customer. Instructed her to wait and not to take any customers alone, being still a trainee. 

The Imperial had some strict dos and don’ts. 

Little did Candy know, Ash had the miraculous gift of getting herself into sticky situations and for reasons she couldn’t explain, tonight felt like one of those nights. 

Taking another sip, she exhaled nervously, the corset tight around her ribs, further pushing her already strangled lungs. It was her very first shift and she seemed to have fallen on a busy night. The customers were not too pushy, though. No one has smeared himself onto her while holding a pitcher of beer and smelling of peanuts on their breath. Candy promised that the owners won't touch the girls and don’t let anyone else touch them either. The Imperial might be a “gentlemen’s” club, but it was one of the safest joints for girls to work at in London.

It didn’t do anything to calm the anxiety that waited at the door as she felt the presence of the tall stranger who kept his eyes on her for the last couple of hours. 

She “bumped” into him earlier as she walked around the ground floor. Broad shoulders and a face that looked as if it was put together from all the best parts found in heaven. He sat with three other men, looking like the superior one in the group. Fury burned in his eyes, yet his posture was composed which only made him look more frightening. It was a mistake to gander, she knew it deep in her heart, but he was an impressive specimen of a man. She couldn’t look away, not soon enough before their eyes met.

Now he was sitting a few meters away. A spiced drink sits in his glass, a ghost of a smile loomed over his face while his fingers were pressed to his temple in some sort of dark intrigue. He stared with the confidence of a man who knew he could have everything and it seemed like she fell on his aim.

Feeling uncomfortable, Ash broke her gaze and slipped off from her seat, wishing to find a place where she could hide from his hungry curiosity. This man had trouble written all over his arrogant posture and if she learnt anything about herself, it was that she was a magnet for chaos. She turned on her stilettos and crouched down for a second to rearrange the fishnet stockings around her thighs before straightening up moving on.

In the most natural order of things, the stranger was there to stand in her way. 

Broad and mysterious, the man towered above her with a small smile edging his mouth. Up close, she noticed his copper-brown curls and eyes like smooth steel. They shone like sharp knives through the club’s neon lighting. His jaw was cut marble, defined lines soared across his high cheekbones and even his lips had the perfect cupid’s bow. 

Ash registered him carefully and her heart murmured. No man should be this good looking; he was beautiful in manners that seemed unearthly.

“May I buy your precious time, love?” 

His voice hung low and deep, smooth like a chocolate truffle that melted on one’s tongue. 

The scent of danger filled Ash’s nostrils; it smelled like peated scotch, aftershave, and heady musk. Judging by his cool-grey tailored suit, it was quite clear that he was a businessman from the underworld kind.  

He burnt hot, and a part of her was immediately drawn to the flame. Yet despite the thrill, he seemed much more perilous than any of the other criminals who lurked around the club. This man could easily fuck up some poor girl’s life. 

In the dark cold cavern of the club, with his shadow casting over her face, the stranger seemed more like Hades than just the ordinary mobster.   

“Maybe some other night”, she forced herself to refuse, doing her best to sound polite yet stern while offering an apologetic smile in the hope that he would accept her refusal and let her go. 

She knew right away that wouldn’t please him. It was clear as vodka; he wasn’t a man who took no for an answer. The thought alone made her nerves shiver as if someone was sliding ice on her skin.

Henry ran his knuckle across the dimple of his chin. The signet ring on his pinky finger flickered on her hazel eyes in blinding silver. He took her in with a deep inhale. No, not even a drop of appreciation on her pretty face but he did detect a tinge of fear.

Interesting he mused, a small grin stretching his defined lips. The little dark-haired woman was either completely oblivious to who he was, or she was one of them ladies who had principles. 

Whichever it was, it spiked his intrigue and made for a curious turn of events in a very boring night.

“Isn’t that what you do, darling? Dance for money?”

He asked as he waved two £50 bills between his long fingers as an offering. His accent was posh and not a fake one either. She imagined he grew up wealthy. How does a man who presumingly, could achieve everything in life wound up into a place like this, she wondered. Not that the Imperial club was anything sort of sleazy. It was owned by the largest underworld family and had a taste of an old cabaret. Male celebrities often visited the club aside from gangsters and corrupt politicians.  

“It’s my first night I’m not really...”

Henry reached into his pocket, drawing six more £50 bills and offered it to her. The steel in his eyes softened for a moment, yet the peril still hovered on his face. 

He was a man trying to appear harmless and the risk never seemed so alluring.

Chewing on her cheek, she stared at the money. It was enough to stock the fridge for at least a month but it wasn’t as even half as seductive as her stranger’s haunting charm. 

Fuck it.

Taking a deep breath, her slender fingers reached toward the hand that held the cash. She snatched the money from between his digits and tucked it in her garter belt. Henry beamed, pleased that she agreed. Two large dimples creased his cheeks as if this man needed any more attractive features.

Ash wrapped her fingers around his wrist and led him through the depths of the club while her heart thundered in her chest. For some reason, it felt as if she was walking freely into a trap. 

And yet, excitement boiled in her blood. 

The cracks between their silent contract were filled by the beats of the monotonous music. They passed by the abundance of half-naked women who were coaxing different men around the bar, touching and smiling sweetly, serving them with nothing but the illusion that they are wanted, when in fact they were needed for nothing but a paycheck. 

Henry followed the petite woman, anticipation coating his veins and spiralling a small grin on his face. He guessed that without her heels she’d be at the height of his shoulder, this pretty little thing with raven black hair. He was intrigued by the way she bravely withstood him, almost to the point of irritation. It seemed as if his spell was useless on her as she carried herself carelessly, unlike the many women who threw themselves at his feet, begging to be fucked.   

There was something provoking in her, to the extent of him willing to break another one of his own rules and get a sense of what she felt from the inside. 

Her fingertips pressed on his wrist, sensing the pulse within. His heart ran strong and confident but she imagined it would only be a matter of time until she’d have him a complete mess. 

They all have the same weakness, no matter how much power they have. 

The large spacious club narrowed into a slim corridor while teal and magenta-coloured lights danced diagonally across a mirrored tunnel. Their own reflections appeared several times, accompanying them as they arrived in an open room, guarded by a huge, square-shaped bodyguard with a shaved head, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb.

Henry eyed him carefully, giving him a small nod before following her into the room. The interior was dark, with a black ceiling and a black shiny floor, embellished with white LEDs that reflected on her red stiletto heels. An onyx leather couch waited in the middle next to a small edge table holding plenty of bottled hard liqueur.   

“Make yourself comfortable.” She gestured toward the seat and shut the door behind her, taking a deep breath as she felt a slight increase in her heartbeat. In the confinement of the small space, the brooding man had the energy of a lion, hazing her senses and making her feel like nothing more but a fluffy little rabbit. 

The leather squeaked beneath his weight as he shifted slightly, wide thighs spread open while he glanced at her rear. She turned to tinker with the stereo system, selecting a tune to dance to. 

Browsing through the selection of beverages, Henry decided to treat himself to a bottle of smoked whiskey. He unturned a clean lowball on the table, the sharp hiss making her flinch and then slump her shoulders at the sound of thick liquid being poured. The odour of spiced ashes filled the room, mixing with his musk and her sweet perfume.  

“Should I pour you one as well, pet?” 

“I would rather not drink on the job,” she replied and pressed play. Soft synth tunes played through the speakers and Ash turned to him slowly, giving him a seductive glance. 

“Depeche Mode, really?” He crooked an eyebrow and smiled with amusement before pressing the glass to his lips and eyeing her carefully.

“I thought this song is fitting for my first VIP client” she answered, and made sensual steps towards him, already feeling captive by the daggers on his eyes. Henry took another sip of the amber-gold drink and placed his glass aside, pressing his fingers against his temple while examining the woman who was running her hands over her corset.

“You’re my first too.” 

“Bullshit,” she mocked, entering into the space between his knees. 

Henry tilted his head, a small warning glare crossing his chiselled face. “Mind your tongue, sweetheart. You’re a lady, act like one.”   

She bit her tongue, avoiding the small tremor that flapped from her chest all the way up to her throat like a tiny caged bird. The dominance and authority in his voice made her shiver, making her feel as if she was owned by more than just his money. She wondered what made a handsome man like him even bother paying for something he could get for free from any woman he wanted.

“Fuck,” she provoked, keeping the fear on her breath tucked well behind a sweet sultry smile. She took joy in the dissatisfaction that danced on his face as she cursed. “You know how this works, then?”

“You take off your clothes and dance on my lap like a good girl?” 

“I can touch you, you don’t touch me.” she warned, and slowly fell to her knees between his thick thighs, following the hollowed drop in the melody. Henry stared down at her with a pleased look on his face, his eyes hued with wanton as she rolled the laces of her corset between her fingers and unwrapped herself like the sweetest present. 

It wasn’t her first time giving a lap dance. She worked in strip clubs outside of London, but those were much smaller clubs that held no more than 40 guests. And none of her customers looked like Big Handsome Boss. 

“That seems unfair,” he answered as she spread her corset open. Her perked nipples teased through the loosened fabric while she gave him a pouty look and pulled at the laces delicately until she was free of the confinement of her bodice. 

Henry shifted in his seat uncomfortably while she revealed her body to him. Small breasts glowed heavenly in the LED lighting, skin pure and smooth like honey. He was forced to reach a hand to adjust the huge bulge that pooled with arousal while her fingers began stalking up to his knees like two big spiders. 

Big boy, she noted, trying to deny the small electric tingle that ran mischievously between her legs.  

“Many things in life are unfair, Mister…”

“Henry.”

“Henry,” she answered, her French-manicured nails scratching his thighs, eliciting a low growl from him that made her spine crawl. “Not that I imagine that a man like you would know.”

He let out a small chuckle, she wasn’t far from being right. The hardest thing in his life right now was the fact that a beautiful nymph was dancing between his thighs and he wasn’t allowed to touch her. Yet.

The little vixen clutched his thighs tightly and pushed herself up steadily, spine curving, her breasts displayed an inch from his lips. She climbed to his lap and straddled his waist, pressing her panty-clad crotch against his caged erection. A rogue moan escaped her lips as she felt the mass of his bulge between her legs, much to the large man’s delight.

It appeared she wasn’t all immune to his spell. Her breath was shaking in her throat as she pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the hard pecs under the soft cotton of his grey shirt. Henry was sturdy and large. She couldn’t help but wonder what he hid beneath his well-tailored outfit. His biceps were bigger than her head as he kept his arms folded; those thighs beneath her ass felt thicker than logs.  

Her lustful gaze swayed to meet the sky in his eyes up close, detecting a slight imperfection in one of them: an earthly taint of brown. He gave her a slanted grin, descending to feast on the sight of her half-naked form with a flick of his tongue across his lip. 

Red flags waved at the back of her mind. This man was the epitome of danger, drenched with dark lust and sinister grins. The fact that he was a sweet, sugary treat for a starving girl made for a sinful mixture, causing both distress and stickiness between her thighs.

Henry placed both his hands on the armrests, fingers digging into the onyx leather to hold himself from grabbing her slim waist and grinding her onto his cock. Her mound felt fiery hot onto the fabric of his trousers, and the slow tidal sway of her hips did nothing but engorge him even more.        

“What’s your name, little minx?” He asked, his breath heavy and sweet with whiskey against her neck. 

She hummed in response, closing her eyes and throwing her head back while her hands held onto his broad shoulders. The dark waterfalls of her hair streamed down behind her. Her torso stretched, bare breasts a delicious sight while she danced on his groin, increasing the friction that ran like smouldering heat. 

“It’s… Lilith…” she answered, licking her lips as she felt the blood vibrating between them.

Henry groaned, enjoying the brush of her body against his. She moved in sensual waves- slow yet hard, like a storm inching an ocean. Her voice hummed softly in his ear, her almond-shaped eyes tricking him into believing he was desired, needed. 

And perhaps he was, as her lips swelled red with passion and she danced on his cock with as much urgency to please herself as to please him.

“Your real name, pet.”   

Ash closed her eyes and shook her head. “I am not allowed to tell you.”

“Fair enough,” he growled. He felt her increase the pace, pushing harder onto him. His self-control was vastly challenged. His breath became fervent fumes. He felt the moistness beneath his hands as he clutched tightly on the soft leather as if his life were dependent on it. The pulse in his organ became as rageful as a volcano.

“You look like you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” he murmured, letting his lips inch dangerously close against her neck. “I wonder if this sort of thing would happen with anyone else, or I’m special.”

Goosebumps spread through her skin, her nape felt a cold shiver. Ash swallowed hard. If this was a thriller film this was the point where she was supposed to turn back and save her skin, yet all she fancied was to push her cunt against menacing Henry and mewl as tinders of joy licked between her legs.

“Is that a problem, if I am?” She dared.   

Unable to control his body’s natural instincts, Henry broke and bucked his hips roughly into her mound, giving in to her grind, growling as the collision created sparks of fire that increased the flame between them. 

“Not at all,” he grunted, feeling droplets of sweat forming on his brow. “Only that I paid you.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself.”

And tendrils of pleasure were indeed within her grasp. Ash felt a tremble in her thighs. He was large and hard, demanding to be let inside her. She’d be lying if she didn’t want the same, imagining just how large a man of his size was. 

She wondered how he’d fuck her, would he be as slow and rough as their carnal dance, or would he throw her on the bed and wreck her till she cried. 

The dark gaze in his eyes made her lean toward the latter and darn if he didn’t look at her as if she was the most intoxicating woman on earth. Feeling the flush ride from her cheeks down to her chest, she turned around, pushing her ass against his cock instead. She wanted to come so badly, the throb between her legs mingled with the fear that tingled in her chest. She wanted to remind herself she was protected by the owners of the club and the man standing right outside, yet Henry made her doubt herself. 

And for some reason, it only made her more excited.

“Touch me!” She demanded in a voice tainted with desperation.

There was no need to ask more than once. Her handsome stranger groaned the most beautiful melodies in her ear and reached his aching hands to squeeze her breasts. They moaned together as the much-needed bond had formed. Henry’s thumbs circled her nipples while his fingers kneaded on the fat of her flesh. She knew this was a mistake, he would leave his violet fingerprints all over her skin yet her judgment was clouded by the pleasure his touch elicited on her desperate flesh.

“Lilith.” Henry gasped, allowing himself to nuzzle the girl’s hair as she seemed completely lost to her own desires. “Do you fuck your boss?”

“I’m not a prostitute.” she answered breathlessly as one of his hands climbed up to her neck and held her jaw, drawing her head back onto his shoulder. His hips bucked harder against her ass, the pounding in his cock was nothing but white-hot fury. He held her tightly while she dug her nails into his thighs. 

“Not what... I asked…” he gasped, his voice breaking between grunts.

“No.” 

Ash felt his cock twitch beneath her and his moans chanted repeatedly, becoming louder and louder. The pulsating need inside her was unbearable yet it wasn’t enough, not for her. She needed to feel something inside her throbbing cunt yet she feared breaking the rules. Henry pushed against her ass with vigour, emitting inarticulate sounds until he clutched her tightly and gasped with pleasure. 

For a few seconds, the room felt like the most radiant thing on earth.  

Ash breathed out as his hot mess was sticky against her ass. Slight disappointment danced in her chest as she didn’t share his climax and her heart was still in rageful turmoil, furious for not being let to feel the much-needed pleasure. Yet a part of her was relieved that their contract has expired. 

She might have managed to avoid trouble for once. 

“Good.” Henry breathed out, panting heavily as he tried to adjust his lungs. His hands still covered her breasts, sensing the dampness of her skin against his sweaty palms 

“Because I am your boss, darling.”  

Her mind still fuzzy, Ash let out a confused chuckle which quickly died as the man beneath her didn’t join in her laughter. The rigidness on his breath sounded dead serious and the signet ring on his pinky finger suddenly felt cold against the softness of her breast.   

“Cavill.” she called out, panic pitching her voice higher. “Henry Cavill…?”

“Mhmm.” he hummed with approval, an arrogant smile spread from the corners of his lips as he noticed the obvious shift in her mood. Still seated on his lap, she let out a trembling wheeze as her heart sank to her gut.

“You are not joking, are you?”

“No,” his voice rumbled, vibrating low and thick against her prickling spine. 

Ash felt the sweat turn cold on her skin. Giving a small turn, she was unable to determine whether she should get up or remain seated on his groin. She could see the shit-eating grin on Henry’s sharp jaw from the corner of her eye and decided to gather her shaky feet to stand, nearly losing her balance as her heels suddenly despised her.

“Mr. Cavill, I’m so sorry,” she dropped her gaze to the floor, her hands covering her breasts nervously out of the misled thought she offended him. If he felt threatening before, now she felt pure terror making her blood sting. The Cavills were the most notorious organized crime family in the United Kingdom. Their web spun across each district, and they owned half of the police force in London.

She just made a filthy mess out of the trousers of a man who kills much more important people than her.

It was very much clear to her that it would take little to no effort to make a no one like Ashleigh Carr disappear. 

The room began to feel as if it was depleted of air all of a sudden.

“Considering you just made me come all over my pants, you can call me Henry, or sir.” he corrected her in his deep voice while his piercing steel eyes focused on the obvious stain on his crotch. 

Ash blinked, terrified as Henry reached for the phone at the back of his trousers. A muscle strained in his jaw while he scrolled through the device and then placed it against his ear. She opened her mouth to apologize once again, yet was silenced by Henry holding up his index finger gesturing “wait”.

“Sean, I will need a clean suit brought to the Imperial, ASAP. Make it a dark one.”

The crime lord ended the call with a friendly yet authoritative “Cheers,” before lifting his gaze to the slender girl who still stood at the same spot with eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Never in his life had he had a naked girl look at him with so much fear on her face. 

It was an interesting new aspect. 

Reaching down between his knees, Henry fished for her flimsy corset and pulled his heavy body upward. His long legs stretched as he stepped toward the horrified girl. Giving her a smile, he handed her the piece of garment. 

She snatched it from his hand with slight hesitation while he stared down at her, his head tilting as if to further study the features of her face. She was too afraid to break eye contact, strapping the corset back around her body without saying another word.

“Lilith…” Henry called, his spiced breath hot on her face.

“Ash...Ashleigh,” she admitted.

“Ashleigh,” Henry pronounced her name softly in his low voice, giving a small dreamlike smirk as if it was the most beautiful name he ever heard. His tongue licked over his bottom lip while he drank the sight of her in. 

“I’d like to fuck you.”

Ash stared at the man in front of her with surprise, lust still blooming between her thighs, her skin tingling with the imprint of his touch. Inside, she seared with passion and he was undoubtedly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen with his kissable lips and crystal blue eyes.

But she detested the idea of being a whore. She never slept with a customer, nor was she willing to sleep with her boss. 

Even if it cost her life. 

“As I said, not a prostitute.”

“I have no intention of paying you,” he answered with a dry chuckle.

“You just did,” she answered and then took a deep breath, choosing not to say more. She still valued her life after all, no matter how pitiful it is. 

Henry gave her a slanted smirk and began circling her like a predator stalking his prey. Careful eyes followed him, her breath measured with every step he took. 

There was a spirit in her, warm and feisty. Defiant despite the fear that sparkled as clear as water in her beautiful eyes. In the cold, secluded room of his sinful club, he finally felt the thing he chased after for years. Passion. Desire. 

And it was booming in his heart.

“I find you interesting, Ashleigh,” he replied and shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket, drawing out a sharp silver card.

“But I am not one to beg, nor do I take pleasure in pressuring women to sleep with me.”

The card gleamed like a knife as he held it between his digits while waiting for her to accept it. 

“This is my driver’s number, just in case you decide you do want to spend your night with me.”

*

Read Part 2

________________________________________________

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (14)

Photo from @calkestisisbaby

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

14 of ?

The throttle of the speeder bike parts the sand across the reddish-brown, arid expanse. Nothing but the noise of the motors roared across the wilderness and the whistling howl of the wind that burned your cheeks as you sped through. Feeling Cal's Force Echo on you felt nauseating yet intoxicating, you wanted more—not because of the essence of his ability, but of his touch—even in that stone-cold exterior you have carved out for yourself, you cannot deny that you yearned for the human touch that is inherently absent in the Inquisitorius.

Whether you like it or not: the real you still exists, bottling it all up just became five times harder after you encountered Cal—since the incident at the old Jedi Temple in the outskirts of Jeddah. You bite your lip to fight the tears, unconsciously spiking the speed of your bike forward, and all at once the sensation of his hand rubbed itself around yours—the faltering and abrupt jerk of the vehicle brought you out of your zoned-out state.

In the stillness of the surroundings, you afforded a moment to remove your helmet and catch your breath. You allow one tear to fall, only to wipe it right away with one gloved hand.

"Good thing I'm in the middle of nowhere or this would be really embarrassing!" You exhaled.

The engine growls back into life, you pick up the speed and head straight for the garrison.

By the time you've arrived to the base, the same Purge Troopers showed up sans the child. When asked, their answer was they've already went ahead and secured the baby in the medical bay—given that it's the only appropriate place in the entire garrison to keep it. They tell you the floor of the particular med-bay. 

"Thank you, return to your post."

They bowed and turned their back on you. One of the Purge Troopers was foolish enough to lean in and whisper a comment to the other.

"Too polite for an Inquisitor, for my taste, at least,"

"You always notice the little, petty things,"

You ignored the words and proceeded to the said medical bay. The entire room is manned by medical droids of different variants—surgical, general medicine, and drone types. The closest qualifier to looking after the child is the GH-7 medical droid—basically, the all-around in terms of medical specializations.

A deadpan remark forms in your lips, "At least, you won't have that kid crying in your face every time you check on it."

Unable to detect the sarcasm, the droid plainly asks why. You didn't humor it for an answer.

"Nevermind." You sigh and roll your eyes with resignation.

You shifted your attention to the child who was settled in a makeshift bassinet, you couldn't figure out what the crib was before it was turned into a hovering, spherical pod that fits an infant, though it's of no importance. You ordered the child to be fed, cleaned, checked for vitals, and be given medicine and supplements if necessary. The droid obediently took note of all your orders before you retired to your own room.

Out of courtesy, some officers and cadets tipped the brims of their caps at you, accompanied by the utterance of your title—to which you responded with a curt, slow bow.

Finally, you've encased yourself in the solace of your quarters. The sensation of your body sinking into the mattress gave you a sense of comfort and relief, removing your gloves felt liberating; you shake your fingers to wring off the chafing and feel the skin against your fingertips again. A sigh escapes your lungs, you find yourself rubbing the hand that Cal had touched and inflicted his Psychometry—his grip was tight, but gentle so it doesn't hurt you, even in that intense interlock of your lightsabers.

You stand up from your bed so you seat yourself in the center of the room, you cross your legs together and straighten your back. Eyelids dropped and shrouded your vision in darkness, you recall the teachings the Inquisitors have beaten into your head, but something else is clawing for your attention—Cal. No matter how many times you decline it in your head, it just becomes more persistent by the minute, the influence of the Force Echo still ran fresh in your system.

Then his words came flooding into your mind, echoing and trailing off like a hollow gong.

“What have they done to you?”

“This isn’t you…”

“Enough…” you sobbed.

You curl into a ball, raking your scalp as you bury your face into your knees, resisting from succumbing into this haunting episode. You reply to the voices with great refusal and denial.

“It’s because you’re afraid…”

“STOP!” you cry out, alone in your room. After your outburst, you realize that you might have alerted some patrolling guards; you sit still, expecting a polite knock followed by a “Are you alright?”, none of them came—much to your relief. Although, Cal’s voice and words persists; you didn’t really notice until now that his voice and the collective voice of the Inquisitors constantly thrashed at each other like predators against one another.

“I didn’t abandon you. I looked for you…”

This is perhaps what prevailed the whole time. Cal’s tiny spark of hope in those words shone its way through the cold of your armor. You couldn’t help but feel betrayed by your brothers and sisters, they who groomed you into a killing machine with a red blade like them, and constantly gaslighted you into thinking that you were abandoned—by your friends and ultimately, by Cal—and that you owe your life to them , the Inquisitors.

“He… looked for me? He wanted to find me?” you mumble under your breath, clutching your chest as your heart calmed down. 

You’re reminded of your bracelet that he wore around his wrist. You could only wonder how many time he looked at it, touched it with and without Psychometry, and just simply remembered you.

“He kept it, too…”

Your heart ached, and eventually so, you melted to the floor and reduced into a sobbing mess—all these feelings fighting in your mind, unsure which one to feel.

Anger? Yes, but for whom this time?

Sadness? For Cal and the life you’ve lost, most certainly.

Hope? Bleak but possible.

“You still have a choice…”

“Twelfth Sister?” the voice in your head trailed off the moment your gauntlet comms bleeped.

You jumped, startled by the sound. You recomposed yourself and cleared your throat prior to answering.

“We require your assistance in the war room.”

“Of course, Captain, I’ll be on my way.”

—- 

Cal is exactly in the same predicament as you in the confines of his cramped room.

A while ago, he had picked up your outburst in the middle of his own meditation. He wondered what had slipped into your mind to put you in such an overwhelming mental state. All he could feel was sadness, his free hand trailed to the cord around his wrist and ran his thumb against the tarnished metal pendant.

Earlier, when he returned to the Mantis, he announced that you took a Force-sensitive child from the city, everybody was up in arms to concoct a plan—especially Cere, knowing full well what they’ll do to captive Force-sensitive children.

During that planning, the former Jedi held her finger, her expression in full, deep thought and then she marches to the communications station—her personal workspace—in the cockpit without a word to anyone. With her dexterous fingers, she fiddled with the dashboard, her arms and hands moving from one spot to another—acting on pure muscle memory and instinct.

“I found a signal,” spoke Cere softly, and she obligated to repeat herself when she assumed no one had heard her. “There’s a signal, coming from the reception tower of an Imperial garrison in the east. I’ve been keeping up with them through their comms; transport ships are frequently deployed there for various purposes—ration supply runs, troop deployment, pickup, you name it. No doubt, [Y/N] will have the child delivered to their fortress on one of those ships.”

She fine-tuned the frequency by slightly turning the knob back and forth until the audio went clear—the entire comms of the Imperial garrison plays through the Mantis’s speakers for everyone to hear.

“I just received word from the Twelfth Sister. They’re orders to request a transport ship to Mons Golotha.”

The crew collectively pulled their eyebrows together at the mention of an Inquisitor’s title and the name of a new planet, but they put aside the questions for later.

“Date of departure?”

“No word yet, she says she’ll personally see to it. I think it must be a heads up.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll process her request real quick. Inquisitors always get the priority here.”

“It’s almost like Lord Vader but less terrifying.”

Cere lowered the volume, and turned to Cal.

“Twelfth Sister?” Greez grumbled in a hybrid of disbelief and confusion.

“That’s [Y/N], she’s the Twelfth Sister among the Inquisitors,” Cal coldly answered.

An awkward silence befell between the Lateron and the young boy.

“Are you gonna burst in there like you did last time?” inquired Merrin.

“Well, it worked thus far,”

“And look where it got you.”

Merrin wins the banter of wits. Cal yields willingly, though he retained to the topic of how to rescue the child and you, without any sarcastic comebacks brimming with sound points. Cere presumed it ought to be a trap, reading between the lines of the last few sentences the Stormtroopers said; she made it clear that you are not to be underestimated, for an alliance with the Dark Side and the Inquisitorius, no less, has made you doubly unpredictable.

The adult woman hacks into the garrison’s systems again and produces a rough, three-dimensional blueprint of the complex to amp out their entry and escape. Using the computer’s projector, the holomap floats in the center of the cockpit, surrounded by everyone.

“Once we’re in the garrison yard, I can find a computer and hack it so we can get a map of the inside,” commented Cere.

Cal rotated the map so the back side of the garrison complex faces him.

“I can scale its southern wall and sneak past the guards there, which I think would be minimal, considering they’re in the middle of nowhere. I’ll create an opening for us—Cere, you’ll be the one finding the kid.”

“And I take it that you’re coming after [Y/N] then?”

Cal clicked his tongue at the same time he pointed his finger at Cere in the shape of a gun, while keeping a poker face. In response, Cere sighed and rolled her eyes, equivalent to the saying, “Of course, you will.”

He had a feeling that the transport was a front, he reminds himself of the lone TIE Fighter he spotted earlier; and so, he couldn’t afford to let another hour pass to let your plan succeed. He asks Cere to keep the comms on while their own signature is masked, it’ll be their only way of knowing if you’re on the move; it’s also his guilty pleasure of hearing your voice again, for he always thinks the moments you have together aren’t enough, it isn’t exactly docile either—given the current predicament.

While they were debating on the best approach for stealth, the speakers crackled again and drew everyone’s attention.

“Captain?”

Cal jumped on his feet as soon as he heard your voice at the first word.

“She on!”

“How long until my ship is ready for travel?”

“Not for long now, Inquisitor.”

Over the comms, the baby could be heard fussing in between your exchange with Captain Foros; another thing is the impending storm that’s gradually disrupting the signals, making it hard to piece together the conversation.

“Make sure… I leave… hour and a half…”

“Yes-s-s-s… Inquisitor…”

With everything they’ve gathered so far, Cal assumed that they only have an hour and half left to reach you before you get off-world.

“We have to go!”

Cal and Cere dashed to the door, the boy slams the same button that opens the contained door with the speeder. Cere drove the speeder, when they closed enough distance between themselves and the garrison, she scrambled the signal of the speeder as they approached the complex. According to plan, Cere dropped Cal at the backside of the garrison.

“Hey, Cal?”

The boy turned around before even taking his first step.

“Save her.”

There is a heaviness in those two simple words, Cal felt it in his heart, nonetheless the determination is there. He clenched his fist and looked at Cere straight in the eye.

“I plan to.”

[alj4890]

Chapter 41 Pandemonium

The Royal Romance Fan Fiction (Liam x MC*Riley) (Maxwell x OC*Amanda) (Drake x Olivia) (Hana x Rashad)

These characters are from the amazing writers of Pixelberry's Choices stories: The Royal Romance and Red Carpet Diaries. The only character of my own is Duchess Amanda Bridgerton of House St Orella.

Masterlist for The Other Friend TRR

Chapter 41 summary: Drake endures seeing Justin and Olivia together. Rashad requests Maxwell's help with Hana's ring. Hana and Rashad share their joy with the court.

Chapter 41

Rashad met Maxwell early the next morning downstairs in the lobby. He wanted a second opinion on the ring he was going to buy for Hana. For his previous engagement, he had used a family heirloom for an engagement ring. He did not want to do the same with Hana. She deserved something that was completely her own. No memories other than the ones they would make together should be a part of her ring.

"I really appreciate you going with me this morning. Amanda won't mind will she?"

Maxwell snorted. "Sorry, I forgot that you don't know her well enough. Mornings aren't her thing. My wife is still asleep. I'm not sure she even knows I'm gone."

Rashad grinned as he thought of finding out if Hana was a morning person or not. He did not know which he thought would be lovelier, her sleepy and confused or wide-eyed and ready to take on the world in the early morning light. He could not wait to find out.

Rashad and Maxwell were driven to one of the top jewelers in Shanghai. Due to the early morning hour, they had the entire shop to themselves. The jewler led them over to the section that housed the engagement rings and wedding bands. There were so many to choose from. Rashad felt overwhelmed.

"Maxwell, what type of ring did you give Amanda?"

Maxwell's eyes widened. "I...I did not get her an engagement ring. With everything that happened, I never had the chance."

Rashad grimaced. He had not meant to put him on the spot. He looked at the rings for a while, wondering what he should choose. There we're so many diamond ones, then there were others with different gem stones. Which one would be right for Hana? He wanted something that had meaning.

"Maxwell...I have no idea where to start."

Maxwell nodded in sympathy, now looking for one for Amanda. He knew what he wanted and found it right away. He asked the attendant to let him see it. Rashad looked at it and shook his head. "I don't think that's the one for Hana."

"It's perfect for Amanda."

"You're supposed to be helping me look for Hana!"

"I am! Especially now that I have found the one for Amanda. You have my complete attention."

Rashad glared at him for a moment. The nerve of some people. Here he was trying to find the perfect lady the perfect ring and he chooses a guy to help that is worried about his own wife. He should have asked Liam. Riley already had an engagement ring.

Maxwell looks at the case and then pulls put his phone. After a few quick searches, he hmms to himself. Rashad ran an agitated hand through his hair. Spit it out man! "Maxwell? What are you 'hmming' about?"

"I was double checking the meaning behind gemstones. I remembered how much Hana talked about the bouquet of flowers you brought her. She loved that you had put meaning behind it. I think if you picked a genstone with special meaning, she would love that more than a 10 karat diamond ring.

The man was brilliant! This was why he chose him to come help. Why would he pick anyone else? He was so glad he did not ask Liam. He would not have had a clue what to get.

"That is a great idea! So which gemstone should I focus on?"

"Emeralds. From what I read, it is known as the 'Stone of Successful Love'. It is supposed to represent inspiration, infinite patience, unconditional love, compassion...all the good things that sound like the two of you. It is also known for renewal and growth. You both were engaged to the wrong people, now you have a new start with each other."

Rashad could not believe the depth of wisdom and understanding Maxwell possessed. Why was no one else using him for important decisions? He was underappreciated.

Rashad found the perfect emerald engagement ring for Hana. It was a large emerald, pear shaped, cushioned with diamonds surrounding it, and then going down the sides of the gold band. It looked both lovely and somewhat old fashioned. Something that Mr. Darcy might present to Elizabeth. He purchased it and the matching wedding band, his heart nearly bursting with happiness at buying these for her.

Drake sat in the car with Maxwell and Amanda, heading to the nature preserve. He was drumming his fingers against armrest, staring out the window. Amanda reached over and stopped his hand. "Is there something you want to talk about or are you trying to see how long we can go before we debate on tying your hands to your sides?"

Drake realized the tell, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Sorry. I was thinking about seeing Olivia with Justin today. Maybe I should have stayed at the hotel."

Maxwell knew exactly what he was going through. He also knew there was nothing they could do to help. No words could stop that pain from seeing someone you love be with someone else. "Drake, she probably will need to see you there supporting her, even from afar. I know it's hard, but maybe you can sneak some time with her. She could probably use a break."

Drake nodded at his words. He did not really know what the future held for them. At least Maxwell had known that he and Amanda loved each other and would get married. Did he want the same with Olivia? He liked her. He was attracted to her. He actually enjoyed her company now. Did he love her? Now that was a question that needed to be thought on.

When they exited the cars, they were overwhelmed with the beauty of the reserve. It was one of the most peaceful places they had been. Hana's father welcomed them and began the tour. While everyone began to follow, Drake scanned the crowd for his redhead. "There she is." Amanda whispered.

Drake's heart lurched. She looked beautiful. She had her hair down, much to his surprise. She knew he loved pulling it or running his fingers through it when she had released it from the confines of her usual bun. Did she do it for him as a sign or was she tired of wearing it up? Amanda slipped her arms through his and Maxwell's. She pulled them as close as she could behind Olivia and Justin.

After some slow walking nobles paused to look around, Amanda maneuvered them directly behind Olivia. They were now able to hear everything that was said. It was not impressive to say the least. Justin was really boring.

"Olivia, did you know that bamboo is part of the grass family?"

"Really? Fascinating."

"Yes. It can grow up to three feet within twenty-four hours."

"Wow. I'm so impressed by your knowledge."

Drake wanted to laugh. The man was literally talking about grass growing! Olivia's montone remarks should have raised a red flag to Justin, but he remained oblivious to it and continued explaining everything they encountered.

Liam and Riley were standing with Rashad and Hana. When they caught sight of the others, they waved them over to a small enclosure. Maxwell and Amanda rushed to the glass. Baby pandas were playing. Drake grinned at the little cubs. Olivia walked up beside him, a smile finally forming on her face. It died when Justin came up on her other side.

Drake slipped his hand in hers and gently squeezed it, letting their hands be hidden in the folds of her skirt. She cut her eyes to him and squeezed back. Justin stood there a few moments and went to pull Olivia away. Liam stopped him. "If you will excuse us a few moments, there is something of importance we need Lady Olivia's opinion. We will catch up with you and the rest of the tour shortly. Please go enjoy yourself." Justin reluctantly bowed and walked off.

Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. She did not think she could remain kind for too much longer. Was he trying to make her dislike him? Surely no one was that boring. Drake let go of her hand and slipped it around her waist, gently pulling her hair as he did so. She wondered how long he would resist pulling her hair. She hoped he understood why she wore it down. It had been for him.

Liam grinned at all of them. "Hana's father has set up this time for us to play with the baby pandas, that is if you want to."

Everyone voiced their desire and possible bodily harm to Liam if he was messing with them. He laughed and they all went to put on smocks and gloves. They entered in and began interacting with the small bears.

Olivia laughed as one latched onto Drake's leg. He tried to get it off, but the panda would not budge. "A little help would be nice," he said to her.

She reached down and gently pulled the panda off of him, holding it close to her. It looked so sad and let out a little distressed sound as it looked at Drake. Seems she wasn't the only one who wanted to be with him. "I think this guy wants you to hold him." She handed the ball of fluff to Drake, grinning as he tried to hold the little cub in his arms without dropping him. The panda was trying to get in a comfortable position against his chest. He let out a little grunt as he finally got settled. He yawned and closed his eyes.

Riley was smiling. She captured the whole thing on video and was now snapping pictures. She had captured some sweet moments of all her friends enteracting with each other and the pandas. She could not wait to develop them and surprise everyone.

It was soon time to leave and prepare for the dinner Hana's family had planned. Olivia had to go back to Justin. As they returned their smocks and all to the workers, she was pulled aside by Drake. He captured her lips in a hot, seductive kiss. When he pulled back, he felt smug causing that bemused look on her face. "I couldn't resist," he whispered in her ear, pressing another kiss against her neck.

Olivia left the pandas much happier than when she entered.

At the dinner, she was stuck sitting with her aunt and Justin. She looked around the room. Drake was sitting with Maxwell and Amanda. Rashad and Hana were at the front with Liam and Riley. Not only was she stuck with two people she did not care for, Lady Kiara and Lord Neville were placed at her table. Olivia knew Hana had not planned the seating chart. She really wished she had. Hana would never be that cruel.

Olivia picked at her food, barely listening to the conversation going on around her. Her aunt kicked her under the table. Olivia shot her an annoyed look only to notice that Kiara was leaning in close, enraptured with Justin and his conversation. Olivia shrugged and went back to her food. Kiara could have Justin with her blessing. She would even gift wrap him.

If looks could kill, her aunt would be currently arrested for murder. Olivia sighed and attempted to enter the conversation. She was able to last long enough to get her aunt's attention elsewhere.

Hana was smiling so much her face was sore. She glanced again at the ring Rashad had chosen for her. It was the most beautiful and most meaningful item she had ever been given. When he explained the meaning behind the emerald, she felt herself falling even more in love with him.

He reached over taking her hand. He leaned over and whispered, "Happy darling?" She nodded gently kissing his cheek. He smiled and stood up. He gained everyone's attention and announced his engagement to Hana. Everyone cheered and raised their glass in toast to the happy couple.

After dinner, Maxwell took Amanda down to the beach. They walked together, holding hands, looking at the moon reflected in the waves. "It's so beautiful here, isn't it?"

Maxwell agreed. He stopped her from walking and sank down to one knee.

"Maxwell! Are you alright? Did you pull something?"

"What? No! I'm fine! Why would you think that?"

"You went down on one knee! Rather quickly, I might add. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine! Just stop talking about being hurt!"

"Well! Excuse me for being concerned."

This was not going at all like he thought. He groaned and took her hand and put the ring on her finger. He stood up and dusted his pants off.

She was speechless. It was a diamond surrounded by sapphires. It looked like a star in the night sky. "Maxwell?"

"I was reminded that I had not given you an engagement ring. I had a lovely speech that would have floored you with my romantic heart that I was going to say until the whole 'are you hurt' bit. Regardless. I'm madly in love with you. I'm very happy we are married. I wanted to find you the perfect ring to remind you that my heart has always been and will forever be yours."

Amanda launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground. She giggled at him when he said that now was the right time to ask if he was hurt. She silenced him in the best possible way. This was how Maxwell imagined the night going when he gave her the ring.

@krsnlove @fullbeaumonty @darley1101 @cocomaxley @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @umccall71 @mynameiskaylabella @museofbooks @katurrade

[worldofblade]

Head Assassin Ch 2

BTS Fic:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | (T-1) | (T-2) | 5 | 6 | (T-3) | 7 | (T-4) |

Warnings:  Forced marriage, talk of non-con elements, talk of child abuse, violence, gore, dark!namjoon, dark!bts

Beta:  None

Rating:  R

Summary:  General Kim Namjoon was going to get what he has always wanted, no matter what.

Pairing:  Kim Namjoon/Female OC

Notes:  Thank you for all the love.  Here is the second chapter.  Tae-Tae is dark in this one, so a warning for that.  I need to figure out how to better navigate Tumblr to make this easier.  Hmmm….  Anyway, enjoy. Again, thanks to @gimmesumsuga for her story with dark!Namjoon that led me to this.

~~~

The club was dark, and even in their private room, the vibration from the music could be felt. Namjoon slouched in his chair across from Taehyung.  Taehyung was in his element, the drinks were plentiful, and the women, were just how he liked them- cheap.  He currently had two, both vying for his attention as they pressed their scanty clad bodies to his.  Namjoon wondered, as he tossed back his drink, if they knew what type of beast Tae really was?  Probably not, or they would run screaming from the room.  Tae was a Scorch hybrid.  A darkly humorous term for what he did, for what he reveled in.  Scorch hybrids were bred, and trained to be, there was no other good term really, murdering psychopaths.  They loved nothing better than to wade into the thick of things, cover themselves in their enemies’ blood, and then burn everything down around them. Taking prisoners?  Letting people live?  It was not in their nature.  Not when it came to enemies.  Namjoon vividly remembered during their training, when Tae had been unleashed on people the old regime considered enemies of the state.  When he was brought back to the facilities, Tae had been naked, and covered from head to toe in blood.  He hadn’t even taken the time to wash off before he was fucking one of the girls the trainers kept around for his kind.  That was how the old regime molded scorch hybrids.  Violence, blood, and sex.  The equivalent to the ancient term of “sex, drugs, and rock n’roll”. Namjoon never really knew if the scorch hybrids were actually born this way, or if the horrific training they went through made them this way.  Probably no one knew.  The truly interesting thing, to Namjoon anyway, was that when the uprising started and they were slaughtering the school officials and trainers, Tae and the other scorches made sure to get those fuck girls to safety before they watched with satisfaction as the school burned to the ground.  No one else had even thought of the girls.

“Yah! Snap out of it!”

Namjoon blinked, as Taehyung waved a hand in his face.

“I didn’t bring you here so that you could get lost in your brooding thoughts.” Tae leaned back into the couch, tossing back a shot.  Eyeing Namjoon, he signed and then turned to speak to each girl.  “You need to leave now.  Playtime over.”  They both whined, and clung to Tae.  He just gave them a wink and then a slap to the ass to hurry them on their way.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, and drank his own shot.  “I don’t even know why I came with you!”

“Because it was this, or you losing your shit and doing something you would regret to that pretty little new wifey of yours.”  Tae brushed his hands through his hair, and settled more comfortably on the couch.  “I, for one, don’t understand exactly why you didn’t just let lose.  She is yours now.”

And there it was, the conflict that was Tae, or was it all scorch hybrids?  He sat there talking about what amounted to rape, with hardly any concern; but Namjoon also knew that when Tae took charge of his own noble house not one single women or child had been hurt.  You didn’t know if you were coming or going with Tae, he was one messed up bastard.  Which was why his kind were so dangerous.

“Not a topic open for discussion, Tae.”

“Yes, my fearless leader.” Tae gave a half-assed salute before giving his boxy smile that seemed to make the women go crazy.  “I’m surprised you are ok with Jimin being alone with her.”

“I trust Jimin.”

“But not me?” Tae gave a mock gasp.

“If you ever get close to my wife, I will gut you where you stand.”

Namjoon and Taehyung held each others eyes for a beat both dark and unyielding, before Tae’s eyes crinkled into a smile.  “This is why you are our leader.  No grass growing up there.” Tae hit the top of his own head, before he toasted Namjoon and slung back his drink.  Just then Namjoon’s phone rang.

Rolling his eyes at Tae, Namjoon answered.

“Sure, tattle-tail on me to that tall SOB!  Can’t handle one little woman on your own?  Thought you were a hot-shot maniac hybrid?  What….don’t-”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows as he listened to what sounded like a struggle.  Crashing of glasses, and liquid spilling onto a floor could be heard before Jimin’s voice came on the phone.

“We have a bit of a situation, General.”

“`

Namjoon made his way towards the hotel bar, apparently Ji-Soo had not gone home.  Instead she had migrated to the bar, Jimin in tow. Glancing around the completely empty place, no doubt Jimin’s doing, he made his way over to the far table. Ji-Soo had a death grip on a champagne bottle, and was glowering up at Jimin.

“I told you to take her home.” Namjoon forced himself to ignore the slight look of panic that Ji-Soo looked at him with, and faced his third in command.

“Yes, General, but your wife didn’t want to come.”

“Told him he would have to throw me over his shoulder…apparently he didn’t want to cause such a ruckus.” Ji-Soo snorted, tipping the bottle towards her lips.

Namjoon wrenched the bottle out of her hands, causing her to huff- but she still would not meet his eyes. Instead choosing to glare at Jimin again, mumbling what sounded like “spoil-sport”.

“If you don’t follow what Jimin tells you to do, I will give him permission to force you to follow.” Namjoon leaned against the table, lowering his face close to hers.  Her eyes darted to his and held for a brief moment, both of them breathing harder than normal.  Jerking her head back, she came to her feet, and wobbled around the other side of the table.

“Fine then. Jimin, lets go.”

Namjoon’s body slid in the way as she reached for Jimin’s arm.  Her hand brushed against his sleeve before she could snap it back.  His own hand, warm and large, came to rest on her arm. On instinct, she tried to pull out of his grip.  Again, their eyes locked, as he brought her closer to his own body.  Ji-Soo was scared, but also excited.  Chalking it up to the alcohol, she pushed that feeling aside, and tried to act like Namjoon’s closeness did nothing at all to her.

“Taehyung is outside. Tell him to go home, and then bring the car around for us.” Namjoon said to Jimin, who bowed and then made his way out of the bar.

After a few beats of silence, Ji-Soo again tried to pull her arm out of Namjoon’s grip.  “I need to get my purse and coat.”  She mumbled, and then stumbled a bit when he let go. Balancing on the table, she turned to gather up her belongings, feeling his eyes watching every move.

“I didn’t think you drank?”

Turning, Ji-Soo tried to plaster a blasé look on her face as she looked back up at Namjoon.  “Well, you know, it is not every day a girl is forced to marry a man, who just happens to be the head killer of the new government. I think it called for a bit of a celebration, no?”

Namjoon again took her arm, bringing her up against his body as he moved towards the door.  “I am willing to give you a lot of leeway, Ji-Soo,” Namjoon’s quite voice sent shivers down her spine as they made their way to the waiting car.  “but I will not have you going against my orders to my men.  They are for your safety.” Ignoring her snort, he helped her into the car, before going around to his own door. The drive was quiet.  Namjoon let Ji-Soo pretend to sleep, while he went over some work on his phone.

Feeling the car stop, Ji-Soo’s eyes popped open.  “Why are we here?”

“I don’t understand?’ Namjoon arched his brow, as she glared at him and then gestured towards the house.

“Why are we at your home?”

Chuckling, he slid across the seat, closer to her, enjoying the warmth of her body pressed slightly against his.  Loosely wrapping his hand around the back of her head, to stop it from hitting the window as she tried to jerk away.  “I think you mean, our home, Kitten.”  Chuckling again, when her eyes widened.  “You didn’t think I would let you live apart from me, did you?” His voice got even softer, as he gently squeezed the back of her neck, his face coming even closer to hers.

“Don’t-“

“Don’t what?” He asked, pressing even more into her warmth.  Letting himself breath in her scent. Actually enjoying when her hands came to his chest, even though he knew it was to try and push him away.  Basking in the moment for just a bit longer, before letting Ji-Soo push him away from her.  Sliding a few inches away, he let his eyes feast on her.  She was breathing hard, her eyes were blown wide, and she looked beautiful.

“You said…you said, rape was not the plan.” Ji-Soo finally gulped out, still reeling but trying to focus her thoughts.  He let out a low laugh, that gave her goose bumps.  She met his eyes, and felt her heart speed up when they were smoldering with lust.

“No, the plan is seduction kitten.”  She turned her head, right before his lips hit her mouth.  Gasping when, instead, he kissed right behind her ear.  “You’ll come to my bed all on your own.”

“I won’t.” she whispered, shaking from the kiss and his low voice in her ear.  His hard body against hers was too much, and she again pushed at his chest.  His warm breath as he chuckled, had her gasping again.

“You will.”

With that, he was gone. She sat in the car panting, trying to bring her breathing back under control.  Finally, she shook her head a few times, and opened the car door.  Namjoon, right there to help her to stand.  She looked at his hand, not sure she wanted to take it.  Then seeing his smirk, she felt her back go up.  Mustering up courage, that she really didn’t feel, she grasped his hand. Coming to stand right beside him, she gave him her best ‘I don’t have a care in the world face’.

Lifting one eyebrow at him, she tilted her head to the side.  “It will take more than that, General.”  She then held her head high as she slid past him, only a bit wobbly as she made her way to the front door.

Namjoon watched her go, feeling his body come alive.  His Ji-Soo didn’t know anything about hybrids, or men in general for that matter. She had just issued a challenge. There was nothing that got his blood pumping more than a challenge.

[haechan-haedamn]

Seduction

*Doyoung can’t dance.

Characters: Doyoung, Taeyong, Reader

Pairing: Doyoung/Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3K

You didn’t want to go out that night, but you had been pulled off your bed and into a pair of tight pants by your friends for that exact reason. They had looked at you, dead in the eye, and called you out on being an absolute anti-social slob for the majority of your week-long break from college. You, in a fit of denial, had thrown up a finger at Y/F/N and slipped on a bralette under a mesh long sleeve that sparkled when the light hit, a pair of black jeans, and some cheap, patent-leather boots that hugged your ankles uncomfortably so that you could limp around a pro-perspirant club. Your hair fell against your shoulders in light waves, the texture deemed silk-like by Y/F/N, and your makeup was the perfect ‘sexy-natural’. So why did you feel like you were wasting an entire night?

 You were on your third vodka-soda and your fifth rejection of some greasy frat-boy wannabe when your friend slid into the stool next to you, calling for a water and a few napkins from the bartender. The man nodded in response, turning towards the refrigerator as your friend turned towards you.

“If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say you were a pretty lame person to be sitting at a bar by yourself.”

“And since you do know me?” you prompted.

“I’d say that you are an absolutely lame person for sitting at a bar by yourself- especially since I’ve seen at least four guys come ask you to dance.”

“Five guys,” you corrected.

“That’s worse!”

You rolled your eyes. “My bad for not wanting to go dance with guys who smell like Redbull and most definitely have athletes foot.”

“You won’t get athletes foot, your wearing shoes,” she pointed out as the bartender set down the water bottle in front of her, “Also, were in a club. No one is going to smell like a Mercedes-Benz air freshener.”

“Sounds like an amazing excuse to lower my standards,” you smiled too widely, knocking back the rest of your drink.

“I can taste your sarcasm.”

“What’s the flavor?”

“Something akin to an old lady, about to die alone aside from her twelve cats because when she was hot and twenty she sat at a bar by herself.”

You laughed, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Your taste buds are amazing. You know, there’s got to be some ground for superpowers there.”

“Whatever.”

She stood up, leaving the bottle in your care as she danced back towards a group of people, all cheering upon her return. You rolled your eyes fondly at her back, keeping a gentle eye on the champagne color of her dress as she moved between the throngs of people clogging the dancefloor of The Hour. It was the most popular nightclub in your tri-city area, pulling its fan base from the two college campuses nearby.

You didn’t exactly see the great appeal of it, other than its mildly good drinks and warehouse size interior. Like it was mentioned before, it could always smell better, and because of its close vicinity to colleges there was a higher than average population of slimy men. Your friends never minded it though, especially Y/F/N- she had an affinity for sweaty places and drunk men, one that you never understood and never wanted to understand.

You called for another drink, this time a vodka-cranberry, and turned outwards on your stool to observe the crowds again. Your eyes drifted from your friend’s gyration, not being able to stomach it anymore, and delved further into the bass fueled dancers as they attempted to move to the head-pounding beat. Some of them were better dancers than others, and some, well, it wouldn’t hurt them to take a break and rest their feet. You laughed as you watched a girl trip over her too-high heels as she wiggled haphazardly, her eyes dazed and confused. Someone needed to call her a cab.

Your eyes found something interesting, finally, and you propped your elbows on the top of table behind you as you observed the tall, gangly boy trying desperately look like he knew how to control his appendages. He very clearly did not.

Yet, there was something horribly endearing about it, and you found yourself watching it like a car crash- unable to look away from the painful occurance. It may have had something to do with his favorable appearance, or how much effort he was putting into it, or the fact that he kept glancing at you hopefully, but you were actually starting to enjoy yourself for the first time that night.

He was dressed in an open blue button-down, showing off the scoop of his white shirt and dark jeans, his dark hair parted to allow full view of his handsome features. His eyes were angled and large, offering a childish softness to the rest of his serious expression. His face was almost grim in concentration, beads of sweat gathering on his brow to cast a sheen against his pale skin. You were smiling softly, catching his dark eyes with your own, offering a sarcastic thumbs up along with your grin.

He seemed to catch on quickly, noticing your amusement in his derailed venture to dance sensually towards you- the obligatory pretty girl at the bar. His swaying hips actually caught to the beat for once as he started a new dance, something that caused your stomach to convulse in laughter as his hand stuck out- then the other. The vociferous EDM piece that played throughout the club was now accompanied by an attractive twenty-something old man dancing the Macarena.

You pitched forward on the stool, holding your balance with a latched hand on the slick bar top behind you, your other hand coming to hold your stomach through the thin black material of your top. He smiled, his gums brandishing a bunny like look, and you found yourself charmed by this random guy who danced the Macerana like it was some kid-cult initiation. You smiled back by your own volition with the same charisma he offered up, standing slowly from the stool and making your way towards him.

He didn’t seize his dancing like you expected him to, only adding more gusto to his lateral movements and crossed arms, jabbing into the air with flat palms and a now stoic expression. He jumped to the side in a bunny hop, turning away from you to restart his dance in the classic counter-clockwise pattern that you were familiar with. Once you got to his area, now standing right beside him, you grinned again, trying to raise your voice against the thundering crowd.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met such an original dancer,” you commented, gesturing up and down his body. You didn’t expect the height difference at first, but you found yourself enjoying looking up at him, seeing his eyes and face clearly as he looked down.

“Oh? This?” he said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as he turned completely away from you to restart again, prompting you to step around and closer to him, “I just came up with it on this spot.”

“Really, now? You think I would be good enough to catch on?” you asked, fully planning to poor your heart and soul in the Macarena in the middle of an 18+ nightclub, on a Friday, at Midnight.

“You can try, but the execution is pretty complicated,” he said, “it’s not really for novices.”

You nodded seriously, setting your feet apart and testing your balance left and right as if you were about to go on a cross country ski route rather than start dancing one of the easiest dances possible. You waited patiently for him to turn to the side again before you started, now positioned directly in front of him so that he could only see the back of you and the shine of your hair as the lavender and blue lights above pulsed.

You both started the next round of Macerana-ing, and you could hear the spill of laughter fall out behind you, coating your body with a warm, deep tenor. You laughed too, no longer able to hold your serious expression as you placed your hands across your chest in an x, moving in tandem with the obnoxious robotic pounding your ears were being greeted with.

You felt heat press into both of your hips as his hands gripped the bones there, guiding your movements to the beat better. You raised an eyebrow, but since he couldn’t see your face he couldn’t notice your silent query, so you yelled out again.

“Is there a problem with my dancing ability?” you questioned, placing your hands over his with the next dance step, ignoring the jolt it sent against the coolness of your fingertips.

“I told you earlier,” he said, his voice suddenly a lot closer to your ear than you remembered him standing, “It’s a complicated dance. A lot of first-timers have issues, so I’m just offering a little guidance.”

“Oh,” you drew out the word, smirking to yourself as you swayed bit harder than necessary, “I appreciate it, any help from such an amazing dancer is a blessing.” 

You were reminded of his earlier failures to dance as you spoke, and finally you turned again, feeling his hands slip away as you jumped. He nodded as if he was a proud instructor, falling back in sync with you as you started again from the top. You laughed at his flirtatious antics, moving his hand upwards slightly as if you were correcting him, but really you just missed the feeling of his knuckles pressing against the palms of your hands, so small in comparison.

“Do you have a name, or is that information privileged to only good dancers?” you asked, leaning and shoving into him slightly.

“Usually I hold back from the newbies, because sometimes they get a bit star-struck, but I can make an exception to someone who shows such promise,” he joked, leaning back and bumping your hip with his as you switched again, now you behind him and his face turned away from you, “My name is Doyoung.”

“Y/N,” you supplied back, slightly distracted as you took in the towering view.

You couldn’t say you didn’t appreciate it, because that would be the most bold-faced lie you’ve told you’re whole two decades of existence. His shoulders were broader than most, and his back muscles worked underneath his clothes as he danced, his shoulder blades pushing against the light-blue fabric. You hummed to yourself in approval, glad the one guy who didn’t reek like trash-punch and look as stale as a two-week old sock had a pleasant personality to match his aesthetics.

You turned again so that you were side by side, and he moved his head to look at you, the ardor of his brown eyes burning into your skin. You smiled brightly at him, stick your arm out as the light caught the fabric and he grinned again, lighting a fuzzy feeling in your stomach (like t.v. static).

The song made an abrupt change, leading to the dismay of both of you as you lost your Maca-rhythm and leading to the loud cheers of the crowded sea around you. You shrugged sadly, turning to face Doyoung fully and point towards the bar; you didn’t bother to try and yell over the noise, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hear you when you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

He nodded in confirmation and led you through the winding circumvolution of clammy college drunks, his hand reaching back to grasp yours lightly. You felt your face heating with something other than physical exertion, and you prayed to every known god that the blush would melt in with the rest of the heat.

You sat together at the front of the bar and you ordered a White Russia to Doyoung’s water with lemon, and you had a split thought to your alcoholic consumptive tendencies before you sipped the caramel-cream colored concoction. He smiled again, lighting his eyes with emotion, and you knew that this boy was an open book to anyone wanting to read.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he commented off handedly as you set your glass down.

“You come here every night?” you japed, poking into his side with your cold fingers.

He let at a shocked laugh form your jab, shaking his head as he playfully pushed your fingers away.

“It really feels like it, my buddy Taeyong has an obsession with this place,” he continued, “Well, that’s what he says, but really he has an obsession with the girl who works the midnight shift.”

He pointed towards the end of the bar where a guy leaned (pink hair fluffed and eye catching) over the edge of the bar towards an annoyed looking bartender, whose dark braid and blue eyes stood out prominently on her deep-tan skin. You could see why Taeyong would have an infatuation with her, she looked like she belonged on Victoria Secret’s catwalk- definitely not in a dim nightclub. You nodded in understanding, searching out your friend in the crowds and pointing at her in an exchange of information with Doyoung.

“She’s pretty similar, always trying to drag me out to clubs so she can flirt,” you said, “But she isn’t very successful, so Taeyong must be more convincing.”

“His PS4 is what’s really convincing,” Doyoung chuckled.

“There’s a story there.”

He nodded as he sipped his water, a bead of liquid running down the veins of his forearm slowly. “Tae bet me his PS4 that he could get her to go out with him by the end of the week. If she does, he keeps it- if he doesn’t, I get all of his Battlefield 4 perks.”

“Seems to be working out in your favor,” you observed as the girl turned away exasperated, her hand scratching her arm manically as she rushed to someone else’s service like they were her saving grace.

“Actually,” Doyoung said, drawing all your focus back to him as you lifted your eyebrows, “I’m paying her $150 dollars to hold out until after midnight on Saturday because she’s seriously into Taeyong.”

“Really?” you coughed out, laughing at Taeyong’s pain stricken face as he tried again to gain her attention.

“I don’t like losing.”

You nodded happily. “She’s a wonderful actress.”

“I met her two weeks ago at a community theatre production, so I wasn’t too worried when Tae brought up the bet,” Doyoung said, playing with the lid to his water bottle.

“Hmm,” you muttered, “There’s something really hot about setting up your best friend to ultimately fail, especially when there’s nothing he can do about it.”

Doyoung smirked at you, his eyes dancing in mirth. “I think we’re going to get along great.”

You were about to answer when you felt the swish of your stomach bounce from your spine to the front of your gut quickly, and a blanket of nausea fell over your eyes. You stood quickly, starting to move towards the bathroom with Doyoung hot on your trail, his hand pressing into your back to guide you. He opened the door with his long leg, walking in towards the first stall and helping you hold back your hair, his hand rubbing in soothing circles.

You emptied the unbalanced contents of your stomach out, your knees digging into the dirty tile uncomfortably as Doyoung turned his head away, trying to school his features into complacency. You sat back onto your calves, your hands shaking on your thighs as you rode out the remnants of dizzy aftershock, a pout working its way onto your cherry-colored lips.

“You okay?” Doyoung soft voice came from behind you, his hand holding your shoulder tightly as he crouched behind you.

You nodded silently, regaining your vision completely before you shut your eyes.

“I hope we get along, too,” you said, “and, hopefully better than me and vodka.”

He chuckled again, his breath fanning coolly across your over-heated face, his hands meeting yours to help you stand up. You lazily wrapped one arm around his waist for support, your mind too drunk and sick to fully comprehend the intimacy of the action. You recalled walking out of the bathroom and going towards the infamous Taeyong. Doyoung explained what had transpired and that he would be back quickly, and with a nod you both waddled towards the entrance. Doyoung promised to inform your friend that you were leaving, as you were jolted aware when you remembered her presence in the club behind you.

Doyoung hailed a cab with one arm, supporting you gracefully with his other wrapped around your shoulders. A yellow taxi pulled to the curb and Doyoung opened the door, helping you inside and handing the taxi man cash. He worked your address out from your tired slur of words and informed the man behind the wheel who nodded and turned to face the road again.

Doyoung started backing out but you catch his sleeve with a pout. “Where are you going?” you asked.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go with you tonight, sweetheart,” he soothed. He took your hand from his sleeve and placed it in your lap, still holding your fingers delicately.

“But you thoroughly seduced me with your dancing,” you complained, “what am I supposed to do now?”

Doyoung laughed, slowly prying his hand away to reach for your phone. He used your thumb to unlock it and pull up the contacts, quickly typing before returning the slender device to you. You looked at the bright LED screen:

Doyoung (The Best Dancer You’ve Ever Met) <3

       202-555-0165

You looked back towards him, smiling as you turned off your phone.

“You can take that number and I’ll make sure to make it up to you,” he winked, squeezing your hand one last time before shutting the door and tapping on the hood- signaling the taxi driver to speed away into the cityscape. You watched him retreat into The Hour through the back window of the cab before sinking into the worn seat and staring contently at your phone.

You’ll make it up to me.

FIN.

[touchmyhobi]

Professor Kwon: Chapter I

Genre: Teacher AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 1,768

Chapter: 1/?

Pairing: G-Dragon x Reader

Warnings: None...yet

“I hope your first day goes well darling. I wish I could be there to send you off,” my mother’s voice began to crack and I spoke quickly before her tears could progress any further.

“I know you do mom, but I’m an adult now. Just think of all the life skills I’ll be learning out here being all independent and self sufficient,” there was nothing like the threat of becoming an adult that calmed my mother down.

“Just promise me you’ll stay safe and you’ll make your father and I proud?”

I rolled my eyes slightly as I observed my outfit in my full length mirror. Don’t get me wrong, my mother was a lovely woman. However, her friendliness often had an ulterior motive. In this case, her ulterior motive was encouraging success at my new school.

“I promise mom. I promise I’ll be fine and I’ll make you proud. Now I have to go, I’ll text you when I get home later,” I tried to cut the call quickly.

“Oh before you go, did you get the money we sent you alright?”

“Yes mom,” I sighed, it was so awkward constantly being reminded of my financial dependence on my parents. “Now I really need to go. Love you.”

“I love you Y/N. Good luck!” she exclaimed and I hung up immediately afterwards.

With a sigh I grabbed my jean jacket off the edge of bed, slipping it on as I silently cursed my mom for reminding me of the looming cloud of success. As if it wasn’t pressure enough attending one of the most prestigious schools in Korea, my parents would now be breathing down my neck until they receive news of my first A grade. Which I wasn’t even confident would happen. Sure I achieved exemplary marks in high school but university is a whole other story.

“Y/N, are you ready to go ye-” my roommate Ji Soo yelled, her voice rapidly approaching until I saw her leaning on my bedroom door frame. “Well look at you. What are you planning to do, seduce your old, wrinkly teachers from day one?”

Immediately, my eyes shot open in her direction before switching back to my appearance in the mirror. I panicked and tugged at my skirt, suddenly wishing I had chosen a school with a uniform.

“Are you serious? Is my outfit really that sexy? I need to cha-” before I could finish, I was cut off by a hand clamping over my mouth.

“Calm down. I’m only joking, you look completely studious. Besides, we don’t have time for you to change. Unless you want to be late,” she took her hand off my mouth and sauntered out of the room, once again leaving me in a panic.

I swiftly grabbed my bookbag before running out of my room and toward the front door to put on my shoes. As I ran down the hall of my apartment, I caught up with Ji Soo and linked arms with her.

“You know, you’re going to have to work on that time management. I may not be going to some fancy school but I have places to be too,” Ji Soo scolded me.

“I know, I know. Blame my mom this time, she’s the one who kept me on the phone while she tried to ���let me go’ even though I’m in already in another city,” I sighed.

“That’s okay, just make sure there isn’t a next time. Or else I’ll have to abandon you little one,” she ruffled up my hair as we made our way to the subway station.

Ji Soo was my cousin and despite her being four years my senior as well as living in another city, we had always remained as close as siblings. When the opportunity came up for me to live in Seoul, my mother had opposed, knowing she didn’t have the money for the whole family to move there. However, the moment my cousin offered to take me in, the words of approval couldn’t fall out of my mother’s mouth any sooner.

“Don’t worry about your mom,” Ji Soo intruded on my thoughts as we made our way to our separate destinations. “She’s worrying now but once she sees just how grown up you are she’ll leave you alone. Trust me, that’s what happened with my parents”.

“Thanks Ji Soo. It’s just that she’s really not making the pressure of this school any easier on me. I was completely relaxed about this first day but now my mom has me stressing over nothing”.

“Take out your phone,” Ji Soo demanded.

“Why?”

“Just take it out. I’m gonna show you what helped calm me down on my first day of university,” I handed her my phone as well as my trust. “New experiences are less scary when you know what to expect, right?”

I nodded gently, willing her to continue.

“Well there’s this website that you can look at and it has almost all of the professors in Seoul in its database. It normally includes their photo, name, basic information, as well as ratings and comments from other students,” she explained.”Do you have a timetable?”

“Yeah, let me just get it out,” after digging through my bag, I retrieved the sheet of paper which contained all of professor’s names.

Sure enough, each search brought up my professors. Most of the reviews were positive - which put me at ease - but as for their photos, it was exactly what I’d expect, old, wrinkly men and women. However, one professor was a mystery, mostly due to the fact that he did not have a photo.

“Professor Kwon, 29 years of age, studied literature...sounds promising but there’s no photo,” I pouted.

“Let’s look at the comments then,” Ji Soo suggested before scrolling down to a slew of positive reviews. “Never have I ever laid eyes on such a gorgeous teacher in my life”.

Ji Soo and I locked eyes filled with confusion before continuing to read the anonymous comment.

“Not to mention, his fashion sense is beyond any of the boys I’ve ever dated. He’s so dreamy, I could barely pay attention in class! But aside from that, I wanted to pay attention because much like him, his teaching style was impeccable. Seriously, where did they find this man and how much are they paying him?”

“Let me see that!” I exclaimed, snatching the phone from my cousin’s hand to scroll through the rest of the comments. Only to discover, they were all so similar. “So from what I gather, he’s gorgeous and the ideal teacher. That’s good right?”

“Yeah, that’s true but maybe you should have changed into something more promiscuous. Don’t want to miss this chance would you?”

Just as I went to smack Ji Soo’s arm for saying such a thing, she was out of my reach and headed for the door of the train.

“Have a good day Y/N!” She called as she disappeared out the door.

I rolled my eyes at her before looking back down at the screen in my hand.

There’s no way he’s that attractive, right? These students must be over exaggerating after years of having to deal with stuffy, old teachers. I tried to reason with myself, as what was meant to be a method of calming me down for the unexpected had only made the unexpected much more unknown.

Just as the turmoil began to set in, the train came to a stop as the automated voice called out my destination. Quickly, I snapped out of it and grabbed my bag before prancing out the door and onto the platform.

It didn’t take me long to navigate my way around campus as I had already been here a handful of times for registration and orientation. As the day wore on, I found comfort in the fact that I didn’t have to deal with the enigmatic Professor Kwon until my last class of the day. Each class before then was much like I expected, an introduction to the elderly professors as well as their backgrounds in education, followed by an overview of the course outline, and a quick lecture.

The day went by so routinely that the time seemed to slip like sand between my unwilling fingers. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of room 314, Professor Kwon’s Literature class. With a heavy sigh I entered the room, keeping my head locked down until I managed to find a decent seat somewhere in the centre of the room.

“Are you seeing this? Can you believe your eyes?” a girl to the left of me spoke as I proceeded to retrieve my textbooks from the canvas backpack.

“He’s really as handsome as they say he is. How on earth am I going to concentrate with a God standing before me!” I chuckled to myself as another girl quipped in response.   

A God? Now they’re definitely exaggerating! I thought to myself as I finally raised my head to judge for myself. Only to have all of my self reassurance shattered by the man standing at the front of the room. My mouth fell open as my eyes followed each detail of his face, as if I were trying to comprehend a complex work of art. His black hair fell gently upon the sides of his cheeks in the most carefully crafted middle part I had ever seen, his plump lips appeared to be a subtle hue of pink, and his eyes held an almost seductive quality, one that had no place in a classroom but was so natural it was sure to be unintentional. He wore a dark blue turtleneck, paired with a casual black suit that was littered with tiny white dots. The reviews were right, he was gorgeous.

“Everyone settled?” Professor Kwon finally spoke, offering the most gentle voice to accompany such a gentle face. “I’m Professor Kwon, I’ll be teaching you Introduction to Literary Study. There’s not much to say about myself but I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other as we get further into the semester”.

An involuntary shiver shocked my spine as his words entered my ears and danced along my nerves. From the second I laid eyes on him I was taken aback by his sheer beauty and from that moment on the pressure to succeed increased tenfold. Not just because I would need to work harder to even pay attention in that class, but because there was no way I would allow someone this beautiful to see my work as sub par.