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#no need to stretch it out to 120 hours if nobodys getting money for it lol
the-firebird69 · 2 years
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Here's the deal here in punta Gorda
*they already announced a mandatory evacuation and its Governor DeSantis and he did it because he's an evil person the storm has not even changed to direction of this peninsula it's still going Northwest not North Northwest and they're lying online so we can't do lawsuits anymore we need to go after them with actions can we start telling them no you're lying this is what this is you're filing this treaty and that's what we're going to say. But he's in a red zone okay and that's a mandatory of actual evacuations on they say and they posted on the website what they mean to do is try and grab him and he's Tommy f and Mac has his own crew trying John remillard and company has their crew and a bunch of miscellaneous jackasses like Stan
*the second aspect of it is they're threatening to get rid of their own people and they believe they're doing it and that their stuff works and we don't want them walking around thinking that they're very stupid and they're very sick and they should have been hauled out today like I ordered and putting it up again and our son says very simply put your not putting yourself in my shoes imagine being here with these untamed sick animals like the dogs from resident evil they are not in control of themselves and I pushed around and they're all these rogue people every single one of them almost. Plus they command large armies in the state of sickness that's unacceptable and we're not controlling the situation not suitably and his forces are stretched to the limit and we're not hiring hours fast enough and he's ordered us to do it at the end of it and I got to tell you something you need to be horrified into doing it and he's right I have to be cruel to be kind and mine will have to back me up he says and his people who are out already and we know what's going on Nevada Ariana too.
*we have to do this it's a matter of life or death and there's several reasons the flooding could be intense and we can't afford it he can't afford to move he doesn't have any money to he can't afford to stay somewhere temporarily and the threatening every aspect of his life and he has no backup his credit cards are down and they took forever to get a new one going and still in the mail it's ridiculous in a hand delivered ourselves and I'm going to start pushing to do that this is stupid Matt can't do it so we have to
*every time I need help he's here handing me help and ideas that work I don't want to ask him anymore but he says you have to it's going to help get what I need and he knows it he's been grumpy lately because he's not getting assistance I don't want him grumpy because everybody there is a s******* and we're not taking care of them I want people to take care of these enemies of ours that we've hated for so long and I want people to step forward who want to do it if you want to take care of these people I need you to it's been a long long time coming and now is the day so that or our forces in his usually go out and get rid of them and we need you to do it it's it's healing and we're in the way and we just can't get out of the way because we have to stay on it 100% understand this is an intense place what he says is I don't care if you come in here and give it 50% because you don't know what's going on your presence is going to help us boost us to 100% 120% effectiveness and you'll catch up but you just have to make it here and he's right you just have to get here and you have to put people on permanent assignment nobody rotates out unless they rotate someone in from now on and I was writing it now and it's going to be an edict and it's going in and it's for every area
*was going to put an end to all this abuses getting everybody here thinks that they're The Man of la mancha and the perfect Satanist and everyone's helping and rewarding them it's just a scam and there's too stupid to get it throwing people are scamming them and what our friend says is oh well father and mother is to go through them using it and that's what we're going to do you think we're nice people and we're helping you we're going to be pretend to your people scamming you and you're thinking everybody for it and you're the hero of the day and you fell for it and your own people have been telling you no no we're taking your stuff right now it's kind of a scam what they say it differently and we're going to start saying it a little bit and it's going to be all over the place and you idiots probably just keep going cuz you think you have the peace to resistance and you don't have anything
*we're using all of your insults and threats to take you down and I'm doubling up on it I want everyone else do too if you were there and his shoes you would punch them out I don't want to hear any of this hissing and talk from them blaring it right at them I don't care why they're doing it Tommy f is falling and the idiots have no excuse I also don't want the storm to go near him I don't even want it to turn north it doesn't have to we don't need this storm we got one coming as a matter of fact if they double up he's in a lot of trouble it's going to flood anyways I'm sending orders for it to be shut down
*I don't want one single person of theirs to be singled out by a huge group of clones because nobody's controlling this peninsula and start bearing our son and not understand what they're doing if you see someone getting buried like that I want you to stop it. They already see what's going on in there attacking them and for crying out loud their clothes are pouring out we have to stop them and I heard it too we have to take the tunnels we can't have them down there it's kind of getting ridiculous okay I set up SOP and order so we didn't have to order all the stuff done to happen and someone's in charge of this area what happened they pushed through using other areas we were notified I see that and it is true so we didn't do the other side and that's our failing and you tried to do it didn't work so now we've got something that we have to do and I know where and it's not New Zealand or Australia and it's not Russia it is Europe and it is the Middle East and he says it's time for them to be introduced to more of the obelisk and that will handle a lot of it and we have to infiltrate at the same time to control it so we're going to do it tonight there's several key places that the obelisk would be very helpful in but usually we have to put them in remote areas of people completely panic even the people who built it actually has a very rare reaction actual fear is back and it's against me and they organize huge parties to go after and we want them and we want them bad. So that's the order of the day
Thor Freya
We need to put stuff that's more succinct here like we just did and he's trying to correct people every time and he keeps doing it and doing it like we do and finally people are listening he doesn't have time he's got stupid things to do all day that they've made him do and he's got bigger things now that are big problems that we have to help handle or he's going to be out of commission and I was starting to put my two cents in now we have to get going on this the storm is a huge pain in the ass everybody's watching it and hoping it goes right at him he says he wants all of those people brought in there's no use there's no point to them keeping them here us keeping them here either there's no point to their existence they don't have any stake in the game they're out and I agree
Nuada Arrianna
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tumblunni · 6 years
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Man i was just thinking again about that idea i had for a cliche gijinka app card game where the gijinkas are all Interesting Bugs instead of weird sexy anime george washington.
I've kinda got quite attatched to my idea for a leech gijinka as a super cuddly white mage who just happens to look emo and scary. And they'd be a great opportunity for nonbinary representation cos in real life leeches don't have binary sexes anyway. But i cant decide between whether i want them to look like a full plague doctor mask thing or a more cliche cutesy nurse but theyre like super tall and look like the monster girl from the ring so they get sad that people always run away before they can help them! So then i was thinking "hey, alternate skins!" Not like in the other games ive played where there's always one canon skin and all the others require hours of grinding and/or real money to buy. But just that there's like three or so randomized versions of the base character with all the same stats but a different costume. Just to spice up the pool of options a bit! Or maybe it could even be more than just the costume and you can get entirely different reinterpretations of that job class? Like the medusa jellyfish could be either a young kid or a grandpa!
Oh and i'm not really sure how to name this or anything? Cos its not really a clear category of animals, its not all insects or all worms or whatever. More like just..all the animals that are unfairly hated but have Cool Biology Facts that i can babble at u to maybe make u like them more. So i dunno.. Pests? Creepy crawlies? Some entirely made up fantasy term for them?
Also i think the setting will definately be jrpg fantasy! Just a world where all these critters are actually funky people on a comedically bad D&D quest. I wonder who the villains could be tho? Maybe theyre gijinkas of more commonly loved cute animals? Or like.. Not gijinkas but monsterfied versions? Hilariously over the top evil fluffums! hamsters are this setting's dragons! And i dunno maybe the ultimate dark lord is a dog with a cat for a royal vizier or something, cos theyre the kings of popularity.
This could also make it actually make sense why the Clione character could be a beserker like in real life! Cos theyre the most un-hated rare sea slug for looking cute, but their actual personality is big scary predator. But in this universe being seen as cute by humans = evil, so the Clione's fighty doom personality would make perfect sense! Im not sure if i should make them like a tormented Shadow esque antihero or a paladin-looking knight who has a dark streak or maybe even a viking? Cos in videogames theyre like the epitome of 'loves fighting but is still a nice hugs guy'. And it'd be neat to have a chubby buff clione instead of the more cliche bishie gijinka. But then i mean theyre literally nicknamed 'sea angels' or 'sea fairies' depending on country so yeah? Oh or maybe that could mean i make them an elf or an angel but theyre still mega buff! Viking guy with lil chibi wings and halo!
Also randomly i think that Slug will be the other nonbinary character along with Leech. Cos well there's a lot of bugs who dont fit the human gender binary but i'd probably be a bit too obnoxious if i had like 90% enbies and noone else. I always think about like 'if this is my first game project i need to go at a small and reasonable pace with all the Big LGBT Feels', yknow? But then every idea i do is always my first game project cos ive never completed any of them yet XD
Anyway i think Slug would be a more fashionable bishie kind of androgenous character, while Leech is a relateable cuddly socially awkward one who wears a mask. But definately also looks stylish in their own way, and i'm sure Slug is always complimenting them and trying to bolster their spirits! Aside from being super fashionable i also think maybe Slug would be a wandering bard? Cos somehow slow animal -> lazy human -> free spirited instead to be less cliche -> bard. Also the whole 'bard rolls to seduce every boss' meme, lol! So Slug is a very nyeheheh tricksy flirty adventuring song person who aint take nobody's shit. Instead of being sleepy they sleep on the concept of low self confidence! Full and powerful pride at all times!!! Goal in life is to be beautiful AF and handsome AF and make everyone swoon at your feet and also recite an epic poetry so cool that your enemies straight up die from the sick burn. Tho i mean i don't think anyone could actually ACHIEVE that, lol! It might be obnoxious if i actually have a character who's basically 'enby people are literally perfect in all ways'. So i just think Slug is a big ol dork who's like the Gaston archetype of the comically overconfident flirt, but like a good and heroic version who actually respects when people say no to their advances. And is also a great BFF to Leech and tries to help them get out of their shell, because well of course Slug is out of theirs XD
Also actually i dunno whether they should all just be named after the animal or have thier own names but the animal is mentioned on their profile as a job class name or something? Cos it might get awkward once we get to more specific obscure bugs with longer names or ones who only really have a scientific genus name. I'd feel like i'd have to make them all wizards cos their names sound like spells! Oh MAYBE THEYRE SPELLS!! Like each character could chant their own scientific name when they use their ultimate attack??
Oh and maybe Slug and Leech could be just based on the species in general but have their alternate costumes themed after more specific rare subspecies? Like Slug could have nudibranch themed costumes cos the vibrant colours would fit such an elegant fashioniste~ And leech could just be an opportunity to talk about how there's subspecies of leech that dont drink blood, though this character is based on the ones that do because otherwise they wouldnt really have a unique job class, lol. Maybe their rarest alt costume is a fashionable orange ensemble that symbolizes both Slug taking them out for a night on the town in their finest to feel more comfortabke in their self confidence, and also just the fact there's an orange tropical leech. Its kinda funny cos there isnt such a huge range of different colours for leeches, its mostly just different barely visible patterns and a spectrum from greenish brown to brownish black, lol. And then suddenly a bunch of wildly different red and orange ones! And nothing in between! Really does seem like a surprise makeover from your bestie, yknow?
Oh and then when i was thinking about other potential relationships between different magic bug people, i thought of Daddy Longlegs! Cos thats a name confusingly given to multiple bugs of wildly different species who're all mistaken for spiders when they really arent. And this mythical nonexistant daddy longlegs spider also has the myth of having 'the strongest poison but its fangs are too short to bite you' which is COMPLETE nonsense based on nothibg cos how would it even survive in the wild if it cant hunt? But its a real cool myth so it could be an awesome excuse to make them have a move that gambles on either an instant kill or a self debuff. ALSO THEY ARE MARRIED
I was thinking they could be a duo of fabulous zorro-looking assassin dudes who were sent to assassinate each other but instead fell in love and quit the business for good. Like 'you made me want to live again, and the only reason i threw my life away on this job was cos i wanted to die'. And to atone for all the bad mercenary stuff theyd done in the past, now theyre robin hood esque mercenaries who take jobs with world-saving hero groups like our protagonists. And they work for free as long as the cause is just! And they wish they could settle down someday and dream about having children of their own, but they feel like they dont deserve it after all that theyve done. They'd be a rare goofy bugmans that actually have a real emotional backstory! So anyway they're fancy fencing guys who're both the same class but maybe slightly different variants with different stat builds or abilities? More specialized and all. Like maybe one is speedy but weaker and one is slower but stronger? Or one relies more on luck based attacks and one is a consistant damage dealer but has a lower max damage cap? Or even one is status effects and one is attack and really even though they have the same job name theyre wildly different interpretations of it. Fitting for the entomology mistake husbands! I want them to be balanced so that they have special bonuses together but are still viable to use separately if your party setup only requires one of them. Also randomly i think their names would be Albedo and Rubedo? I was originally gonna make Rubedo the name of the leech cos i mean alchemy words and plague masks and all. But then it doesnt really SOUND like an alchemy word, it sounds like a fancy handsome dancer name. And then i started thinking about the cute once-sad-now-happy young assassin dads fighting together so well that it looks like one big dance between them, rather than a battle. And i got REAL EMOTIONAL over goddamn bug gijinkas! Man my heart is made of paper and mush!! Oh and maybe they have combo attacks together but also with all of the party members that are younger? Like special dad instinct combo! A built in ability that they automatically shield the kids from enemy attacks. YOU HIRED A MERCENARY BUT YOU RECEIVED A NICE MARRIED COUPLE WHO PROMPTLY ADOPT YOU. Oh and maybe their alternate costumes could just be each other's costumes? Like they'd already be wearing matching red and white versions of the same thing, but then albino dad wears ginger dad's version and vice versa. Or maybe their alt costumes are different complimentary colour pairs like black and gold or blue and pink? And maybe their ultra rare special costume is Big Cute Dorky Argyle Dad Sweaters! It must be capitalized cos it is IMPORTANT!
Oh and then i was also thinking about the idea i had before of bugs with a queen hive structure being like the workers are the common unit and the breeders and queens and such are rarer variants? But the workers are the only ones actually good in a fight, the others are just for collectables sake. Rare but useless, just like how the real queen bee is so big that she cant leave the hive, and never figjts a day in her life unless the kingdom has already fallen. So maybe queen bee is still unlockable as a rare character but she's just a support that makes worker bee stronger? Like you get a lil event of worker's boss coming to honor her with a knighthood for her good service, allowing her to upgrade her job class. Tho i think she still fights with construction work equipment, now its just like a golden jewelled shovel XD
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Wednesday, 5 March 1840
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9 40/’’
Dubowka a little Gorod – Good Station House, but too late to stop now – Slumbering and asleep till roused by a stoppage about, before, 5 as I felt by my watch, for our wax light too long – 
The lantern a pother for fixing a light in – The light had jolted out – Put my head out to ask if it was the Station – Nobody answered – All flat, and snow, no House – But soon the plunging of the horses in water and the noise of the men, and the bracking of ice shewed that our Station was on the bursting ice of the Volga – Luckily A-[Ann] was not apparently aware of danger – The servants Kibitka (always following) had avoided the badplace and were on glace ferme 20 or 30 yards to the right and ahead of us – They said our man did not know the road but their man did know of this place – No danger because plenty of thickness of ice beneath! – I doubt this – We were luckily sufficiently near to the right bank to be not over deep water – One of the horses sunk almost overhead – I think his feet were on the ground – Luckily the ice on which the carriage rested did not give way so as to let the water get inside – Gross came to us and advised our not getting out as he had got up to the knees in water – 
We took their horses and were at last after 10 minutes or more skewed round on to fine ice, and pursued our way without further désagrément to Pitschouga good Station House and, at a little distance, the village and neat little white church steep ravine-pitch again down upon our Volga – I desired we might not go на волга (Na Volga, on the Volga) again in the right, but nothing against it, supposing they could see their way, in the day time – 
Alight at Tzarizine at 9 35/’’ – 3 good neat white churches in a line on the height above the Volga – Largeish Gastinoi Dvor and square full of Drovni and people and hay and stuff  (Drovni is I suppose plural and only employed in the plural vide Heard’s Grammar p.[page] 66 at the top сани one of the larger sledges and Drovi the smaller sledges) one or 2 goodish looking largeish houses (offices or inhabited by Government Employés) and all the rest log or board houses – Largeish shabbyish looking villagy town – 
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View of Tsaritsyn (today’s Volgograd) before 1917.
28 v.[versts] to Sarepta ∴[therefore] stop to breakfast – A little room to ourselves more than we had at the large good Station House (private house – No Eagle – Not belonging to Government) at Ust Salah vide p.[page] 56 – But still our Station House here (Tzariztine) is not a very spruce looking place – No Semovar – Glad of our own – ‘What, said A-[Ann], a fortified Town and no Semovar!’ 
Off at 11 20/’’, and in going down the steep ravine to the Volga, pass (right) part of a thick Pierre de Taille (calcarious sandstone?) low wall, cracked and probably partly let down by the washing over the water – A small remain of the old fortress or fortification – No appearance of fortifications nor need for them now – all along, on, the Volga, apparently about midway the river – The effect of the sun on the snow in many places, was singularly beautiful – It looked like fine white glistening spun glass, or mother of pearl – 
Nothing seen of Sarepta from the river except 2 or 3 common cottages and a few trees – Could not believe we were so near the place – No church dome or clocher – No picturesque line of houses stretching along the higher ground – Drove up steepish pitch (but the ravine less deep and picturesque than on the opposite bank) and soon in the neat, little comfortable, well built, partly stone, partly board, town of Sarepta – Our comfortable Auberge in a large square into which several little streets open – The very neat clean church is on the opposite side the square – Its small clocher with one little bell rising too little from the centre of the ridged roof to be seen at any great distance – 
Alight at 1 55/’’ having entered the Town under a Schlagbaum barrier a relic as our Cicerone afterwards told us of the cholera-time – This terrible scourge did not come here and many families came and staid here during the time and ∴[therefore] the barriers were put up to keep people away who had not permission to come – Dissatisfied at paying 15/- a day (as at Saratoff) came myself about rooms – Only 3 for us – The girl said 1/- per day each but did not know – The master said 5/- a day! for the 3 – Took them and soon settled and comfortable – Taking the best room for ourselves and leaving the 2 others for the servants – Both rooms good – One of them nearly if not quite as large as ours but looking to the courtyard full of people and cattle and Drovnis &c. like a fair – 
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Sarepta in 1810 (Image source).
A civil respectable looking man a tradesman here offered or consented to go about with us – And he came to us out at 2 55/’’ direct to the church after we had been in the church (door open) – Beautifully neat and clean – Benches some with backs some without – Table covered with a black cloth and chair for the clergyman – No appearance of pulpit – An oblong quadrangular room – Organ and loft at one end, and a little corresponding gallery at the other the boarded floor clean enough to eat off – 2 of the largest and best buildings in the Town, and near the church the House of the Brothers, and the Town-house burnt down and only 2 stories of the blueish green coloured, irregular shaped stone, plastered-over walls standing – Want help and money from the head of the Maravian Community at …. near Erfurth in Germany before they can rebuild these houses – People not rich here but live very well – Have no taxes to pay – Are free of everything – 
The 2 singular looking goat-sheep-like white animals we had seen in a little wattled off court, are 2 Caucasian wild goats that were taken here last winter having come so far in search of something to eat – The animals have a very singular head – The male has 2 fluted sharp pointed rather spiral horns about 12 in.[inches] + ? long – The female none – But the face of each is broad with large fat chops and broad fleshed muzzle – Like a broad flabby sheep’s face – The countenance very grave and striking – The animals about the size of a fine 4 or 5 months old calf – 
Our friend took us 1st to to a nice woman, 2 years since from Magdebourg, head of 36 sisters, who knit, and wind silk, (a few mulberry trees and silk-worms here) and work little things which are sent to Moscow Kazan Saratoff Astrakhan so that little to be seen here – A-[Ann] bought a little knitted waist for an infant = 5/- the nicest thing she shewed us was a brown cloth worsted-worked table cover 45/- probably would be quite as cheap at Moscow &c. as here – 
Saw over the house – Sufficiently good and comfortable – Good comfortable kitchen large raised square of boilers perhaps 6 large iron boilers (of 18 or 20 galleries?) in 2 rows, heated by fires underneath like our set-pots – Dine at 12 – Sup at 6 – Large room upstairs where the lady reads family prayers night and morning – Some of the silk a good red or crimson colour – They dye it themselves – There were some girls at the end of this long pile of building knitting – 
Then across the court and past the back of the church to a stocking weaver, a very civil man – Only him and a boy there for some time when our 2 more men came – Perhaps 1/2 dozen stocking looms in the room – All woollen socks or women’s cotton stockings the latter much too small and short in the leg for any but those who garter below the knee and did not wear natural or cork calves – Asked for nightcaps – A-[Ann] bought 1 for Captain Sutherland white with red horizontal stripes 2/20 and I a black with ditto ditto 2/50 both cotton – 
Here we staid perhaps near an hour I asking a multiplicity of questions Gross with us en qualité de Dragoman Allemand – My own German is not yet beyond a few words of speaking and about twice as many of understanding – Herschen a little round grain, like a large mustered seed – Gross has sought in vain for it in the dictionary – Knows not what to call it in English – When the chaff or outside of the grain is taken off, and the little largeish-pin-head-sized yellowish boule de farine is left, it is then used to make Kasha – Vide Káwa, Gruau Cuit, Mille-Feuille (herbe) a mass = 48 to 50 Russian lbs.[pounds] and Herschen per mass sells for 1/- per mass                    
Wheat = 1/80 .. ..                                                                  
Rye = 1/10 to 1/20                                                                
Oats or barley = 1/- to 1/10                          
the rotation of crops in Herschen
Wheat
Rye
Oats or Barley
And the land is left to rest 4 or 5
and then the same rotation as above – The Germans use their manure but the Russians let the river wash it away because they are too idle to put it on the land – And as the land will produce the 4 crops as above after 4 or 5 years rest, and there is plenty of land to allow of this system; there is no absolute need of a better system – In very good years 10 mass yield 123 mass or 123/10 = 12 3/10 say at most 12 1/2 to 13 fold -  In middling years _____________ 40 to 50 mass = 4 or 5 fold - In very bad years _______ will not yield itself again = sometimes nothing – The best cows, from Odessa                                                                          
1 good, the best, from 120/- to 150/-
1 ditto of this country (hereabouts) 40/- to 50/-      
good fresh butter per lb.[pound] -/50 to -/60
Beef - -/14
Mutton .. -/14
Bacon .. -/15
Cheese made by a German farmer near Saratoff -/50 to -/60 per lb.[pound]
New milk per Stoff = 1 English quart? -/5
Cream .. ..          ______________ -/50
The baths which nobody knew anything about at Saratoff or Ust Salah (or Tzaritzine, nothing to be learnt there at the Station House) are 7 v.[versts] from here on the road to Tzarizine and one v.[verst] from the high road – Our Cicerone did not know of them having any name – Never heard them called d’Ecatherine vide Dictionary of Geography vol.[volume] 2 article Saratoff p.[page] 187 ‘Eaux Minerales d’Ecatherine, qui se trouvent près de Tzaritzine’ – But our Magdebourg lady said they were called Gesundt Brun (health spring) and that several people still go there in the summer – There is one house there – A great many people used to go there formerly – When I 1st mentioned baths our Cicerone immediately said they were in the Cavcase – Stavropol – Pettigorsk – These and the Bains de Boue in the Crimea seem to be all the baths of any present name in Russia – On inquiring for the great Salt Lake, and if there was a road from here to it (Lake Ilton) 300 v.[versts] from here – 
Calmucks here – 50 Kibitkas – 50 families – A priest Gillon (Ghillon) and more of these people (pagans) 60 or 70 v.[versts] from here – The great encampment about 100 v.[versts] from Astrakhan, North East – Had best go to it from A-[Astrakhan] the Calmucks pay no taxes except to their own Prince – The Kibitkas just out of the Town here – Nearer to the river, northwards – All near together – 
We went into 2 of them – A man and his wife and daughter and little boy in one, and a couple of women in the other – But each had a little wood (board) door painted green beside the felt curtain that hung over the little entrance thro’ which we crept – About 3 ft.[feet] high by 2 ft.[feet]? wide – Literally a ground floor – The man was lying on his bed opposite the door – The little fire in the centre, the smoke escaping thro’ the circular opening of perhaps 2 ft.[feet] diameter – All the tents those of the lower order and apparently of the same size about 5 yards or something more? diameter – Would take down in 1/2 hour – Good strong felt – 1st I ever saw – The mainstay of the tent seems to be the diamond trellis about 3 ft.[feet] high – Of sticks about an inch in diameter – That forms as it were the skirting board, and to which all the rafter-sticks (thick and not more than 1 1/2 in.[inch] diameter) are tied – And tied likewise to a hoop at the top which forms the chimney –
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All the sticks of the trellis I am not certain that there were any uprights the people in dirty Shubes women too the latter only distinguishable by their gold ear-rings and long black in 2 long tresses reaching down to the hip, and the top 1/2 in a sort of case, or like dark dirty cotton velvet long narrow bag – A little queer something or the hair itself towards the bottom made a little thin round queue, with a few thin longer-than-the-rest hairs finishing the whole in a point – The faces of the people resembling all the types I have seen of the Mongoli – Small dark rather sunk eyes highish cheekbones and rather tapering chins – smoke brown complexions – Good white teeth – 
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Portrait of woman from Kalmykia. (c. 1810)  Reference: CLARKE, Edward Daniel. Travels in various countries of Europe, Asia and Africa by Edward Daniel Clarke LL.D. Part the First. Russia Tatary and Turkey, London, Printed for T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1810. (Image Source)
I thought the people dirty as they were, so much less ugly than I expected, that I asked our Cicerone to tell one the women I thought her handsome – She grinned her satisfaction – The urchin of a boy (Æt [aetatis] 4 to 6) was sitting over the fire with his face bloated and smoke red and his eyes almost buried, but said to be quite well – 
From the Kibitkas (Yourtes?) to the cattle shed – A long, good, wattled, straw-thatched shed, full of Calmuch sheep, some dark brown some white, with a Tail the whole breadth of the 2 buttocks (whole breadth of the seat) and about 6 in.[inches] long a soft, squeezable, moveable, cushiony mass of fat – The sheep as large as a large South down – A tallish, large, well made large thick nosed sheep – These are the sheep which furnish the families Shubes which when really black (not dyed like ours) are very excellent things – The wool is rather of a hairy nature – The animals are thus kept up and fed on hay from the Steppes (looked nice and fresh coloured, but coarseish) during the severe cold – They all looked healthy – 
It began to snow a little before we went to the Kibitkas – (Yourtes) – Then passed the good houses of the Horloger часы Clock-maker with neat little garden before it – And the Coppersmith’s close upon the street – All the houses tidy – Then to the Bread-baker’s – Bought some nice little ring-cakes, and another sort of spiced slice hard of little cake with almonds in it – He had no white bread left – The clock and watchmaker here gains a very good living – The Coppersmith, the Baker, the everybody – Plenty of work – 400 inhabitants – It seems they do not farm – The Russians grow the corn of which we got samples yesterday – But some of the families make butter ∴[therefore] they keep cows – And everybody seems to have a sort of farm courtyard as in general in Russia –
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A Kalmyk, or as Anne calls it, Calmuck encampment.
Came in at 5 3/4 – Dinner ordered at 5 – Sat down to it at 6 20/’’ – Very good dinner and enjoyed it – Good cinnamoned soup with white tender chicken in it – pigeons? cut in 2 and nicely done (baked?) they passed for game with A-[Ann] and good potatoes cut into 2 and browned and in the dish with the birds – And a salad very pretty and good dressed – With vinegar and sugar Red and white cabbage cut into very fine shreds and well mixed 1/2 and 1/2 – Think of this for a pretty salad for home – And an excellent little dish of rice browned and cinnamoned over – And preserved plums and apples on our little dish to eat with the birds of which we had 3 ate 2 and put one away in our casserole – No tea – 
Fine day but cold wind – Snowing a little between 4 and 5 p.m. and George said snowing this evening
Br[ou]ght ov[e]r fr[om] p.[page] 56  .           .                            266 1/2 + 26      
Volga a.m. 12 38/’’ to 3 10/’’ Sanodnoy to Dubowka (Gorod)           24            
D[itt]o .. .. 4 to 6 33/60 D-[Dubowka] to Pitschouga                          20 1/2  
Br[eak]f[a]st [ditt]o .. .. 6 57/’’ to 9 35/’’ P-[Pitschouga] to Tzarizine (Gorod)       28 1/2      
D[itt]o .. ... 11 20/’’ to 1 55/’’ p.m. T-[Tzarizine] to Sarepta                28
                                                                                                     367 1/2
                                                                                                          26
                                                                                                      393 1/2
[symbols in left margin of the page:]         +
[in the margin of the page:]            Plunge in the Volga
[in the margin of the page:]             Tzarizine. Sani and Drovni
[in the margin of the page:]            vide p.[page] 56
[in the margin of the page:]            Sarepta
[in the margin of the page:]            Rooms. Dinner for ourselves (2) 3/50
[in the margin of the page:]            Caucasian wild goats
[in the margin of the page:]            Sarepta
[in the margin of the page:]            Rotation of crops
[in the margin of the page:]            Russian too idle to manure their land
[in the margin of the page:]            Baths near Sarepta
[in the margin of the page:]            Calmucks
[in the margin of the page:]            Calmuck sheep
[in the margin of the page:]            Salad
[in the margin of the page:]            Reaumur 12 3/4º now at 9 35/’’ on our dinner table
Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0032  SH:7/ML/E/24/0033  SH:7/ML/E/24/0034
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insomniac-dot-ink · 5 years
Text
Tiffany Green and the Monster at the End of the Hall
Genre: supernatural thriller/monster story, wlw
Rating: M for monster-related violence
Words: 12.8k
Summary: Tiffany Green has watched too many scooby doo episodes and now she’s trying find the local monster at the motel her mother works.
Too bad there’s a rival monster hunter in the area.
Patreon ⭐ Ko-Fi ⭐ WordPress ⭐ Twitter
warning: for serious injury, blood, and fatalities
--
Tiffany Green sat crossed-legged with a transistor radio in her lap and the bud of one headphone in her ear, she stuck her tongue out a little bit and squinted into the dark.
The space was cramped, four walls on all sides brushing against her, barely fitting all of her knees and elbows- which her aunt joked was 70% of her to begin with. The carpet underneath was thick as sin and smelled of must and the death of the 1980s, a mini-ironing board was pushed to the side on her right.
She wore a large brown bomber jacket that’s sleeves pooled around her wrists and made her neck sweat. Her lank blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, which she tucked it into her jacket to keep it back, though her fringe bangs in turn fell into her eyes more than a couple times anyway.
She had long limbs, knobby elbows, and an almost sickly pallor that her father called ‘the antithesis of California darling.’ Her eyes were a flat grey that sometimes shifted into being a proper blue.
She wore stark white shorts and a peach tank-top with spaghetti straps that teacher’s traditionally didn’t appreciate. She had notably ‘attentive’ large ears with three different earrings in each, a sun, a moon, and several stars attached by thin silver chains. She hummed as she worked.
“And she’s a maniac, maniac, on the floor.” She sang softly to herself and hunched over the buttons of the old radio. The speakers droned from one station to the next.
“--It’s going to be another scorcher-”
“-you’ll have to bury your head in the sand to ignore this ne--”
‘--I wanted you so bad, before I you came into my life I-”
“--a dan--”
“--up--”
“--as--” Tiffany shook the radio in midair and crunched herself up in a ball around it, “just one good signal,” she pinched her lips together, “come to mama.” She kept turning the knob until the radio went completely silent, channel 98.3, a sudden, inexplicable hush erupted from the other end. She paused, heart tumbling down her throat and eyes going wide. She ripped her earbud out and stuffed into her pocket, she leaned forward.
Her knuckles bleached as she held the radio harder and stuck her face up to the dials. “Hello…?”
Static warbled through the signal, a sudden buzz that sizzled through the air and made the hairs on her arm stand on end, her mouth fell open. “Tell me what you want.” She whispered.
The static increased, like it was singing. Tiffany shook her radio, “Tell me why you’re doing this.”
The static crooned into a soft hum, she held her breath, waiting for something. The silence stretched.
“Oh. No.” A voice huffed, “Tiffany!”
Tiffany jumped violently as another voice called out.
“Tiffany,” banging came from the other side of the door, “young lady!”
Tiffany flattened against the wall as light came flooding in from the entrance, she hissed at the intrusion, “noooo!” She cried with a sharp soprano.
A scowling face loomed over her, blocking the door, her mom put her hands on her hips and frowned deeply. “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”
Her mom was a medium-sized woman with wide hips and curly brown hair that was tied back by a thick white handkerchief. She wore practical shoes, practical jeans, a blue t-shirt reading ‘Anne’s’ on the front, and a single simple necklace with a ruby in the center.
Her face was wide and expressive, she had matching ears to Tiffany’s- though they were slightly less adorned.
Tiffany glowered up at her and held the radio up to her ear, she closed her eyes and waited for the static again. “Ugh!” She cried loudly, “mom, do you realize you just interrupted the find of the century?” Her mom groaned and held her head, “out, out, we need this room cleaned an hour ago.” Tiffany tucked her loose bangs behind her ear and sat up straight, “why? Nobodies here.” Her mom wagged a finger in the air, “if you’d like me out of a job and no dinner on the table then this room is cleaned by 12pm.” She gave her a sharp glance, “no hiding in the hotel closets and listening to music.” Her mom ushered to her feet and Tiffany huffed.
“I wasn’t listening to music, I was-” “Looking for aliens,” her mom sighed deeply. “Tiffany. Please, honey. I love you. But you have to come out.” Tiffany could have broken into a guffawing-laugh at that, but instead settled for a deep groan .
“It’s a monster mom. M. O. N. S- I mean, you get the point. Not an alien.”
“It’s not going to have to deal with an angry mom if it doesn’t get a move on.” Tiffany promptly scuffled out the closet, eyes down, “the owners will thank me when we aren’t considered the most haunted motel on route 78.”
Her mom tutted again, “we aren’t haunted.” She paused as she reached for the sheets to clean and launder, “we’re just… unlucky.” Tiffany sighed deeply, “I’m going to go try to commune in another room.” “No closets.” She called after her, “and no bothering Mr. Thomas.” “I hear you,” she waved her hand in the air as she stalked off. “I can’t believe that girl is almost 20.” She could hear her mom muttering as she started busily folding and scrubbing and getting down to business.
Anne’s Roadside Motel was a two-story building with around 120 rooms in 30,000 square feet, the place had two owners- neither of which were Anne. It had mattresses people checked for bedbugs and small televisions from the early 00s in place.
The motel had a staff of around 25 people, all of which Mr. Thomas liked to keep a personal relationship with, Rowing was not a big town. It’s main source of income was the highway and the highway was trying it’s best ‘not to become a low-way’ as Mrs. Rodriguez joked.
South Dakota hadn’t bothered to fix roads up in this part of nowhere in a while, it wasn’t close enough to the oil fields and was just south enough of ‘who gives a fuck.’
Tiffany hadn’t been back to this town in 2 years, instead living with her dad in Northern Cali in order to graduate from a ‘good high school.’ Tiffany took the 10 hour car-trip after throwing her cap and had been sitting in closets with a radio since.
Anne’s Roadside Motel didn’t have an Anne in it, but it had a brother and sister that installed a pool 2 years ago and discretely set up rat-traps to really spruce up the place. That was until the rumors started going around, the ones in the newspapers and murmured on the TV screen. Anne’s was having a string of ‘bad luck.’
It looked normal enough, with green flooring and yellow wallpaper, a muted yellow, the type of yellow that bridged on giving you a headache but didn’t quite get there. It smelled like chlorine and wheat, but there were worse smells out there.
The lights were low-hanging and mirrors were from the 90s, the tables were all wooden and the pictures were of random rolling purple mountains that was somewhere definitely not South Dakota.
Breakfast was at 7 every morning and Tiffany got there usually at 7:30 to snag the ‘better bagels’ and some burnt coffee. The other staff liked her, but maybe that’s just what she told herself.
And maybe it’s because she was the only one allowed to talk them about the incidents. Anne’s Roadside Motel was two-stories and 120 rooms.
Tiffany Green planned to visit every single one, and maybe prevent anyone else from dying here.
---------------------
Tiffany was sitting in a swivel chair, making lazy little circles in place and balancing a pencil between her fingertips. She tapped her white sneakers in the air as she splaid out sideways. A woman in a busy red suit jacket and slightly too-tight matching skirt sat next to her in a smaller swivel chair. They lounged just out of sight behind a long linoleum desk with a little bell on it. Tiffany kept her eyes trained on her, trying to catch her eye.
“So,” Tiffany finally said and jerked her head toward the plump middle-aged woman beside her, “last Saturday.” Mrs. Candice Marx gave her a bemused look, “you want more?” Tiffany turned completed toward her, “as much as you remember.” Mrs. Marx, no relation to Karl, looked left and then right before leaning toward her, maybelline bright lipstick puckering, “you know Mr. Thomas isn’t too keen on us gabbing about it.” Tiffany sprouted a slow smile. “I won’t tell ‘em if you don’t.” She sat up straight and a jabbed a pencil in Mrs. Marx’s general direction, “someone has to stop this trouble.” Her blue eyes light up, Mrs. Marx read a lot of detective novels. She bent down, “It’s not all that much to go off of.” Her plush red lips are making a perfect ‘o.’
Tiffany gave her a thumbs up and grabbed her pencil a little more firmly, putting it down to paper. “Whatever you have, whenever you’re ready.”
She cleared her throat, “Well, okay, if you’re interested.”
“I am.” She nodded firmly, trying to edge her on. Mrs. Marx touched her blonde bob, primping it, as if she was being interviewed for local day time TV, “Danny was staying at Elsa’s so I agreed to do the nighter, it was Saturday, last Saturday. Ms. Thomas is having us do the late reception for real you know. She’s a real… well, she’s a real go-getter. Going to improve the stains in the reception hall next she said.” “Uh-huh,” Tiffany focused on scribbling nothing very meticulously.
Mrs. Marx tilted her head to the side, “I was just resting my eyes for a moment-” “When?” Tiffany started really writing.
“Oh, I’d say around 2am? Maybe a little sooner.” She snorted, “We weren’t gettin’ any calls, except from crackpots asking about setting up seances here. You know Mr. Thomas won’t have any of that- he’s not into that type of money Clyde says.”
Tiffany tried to keep her expression blank, “What happened next?” She twisted her mouth, “well, no phone calls. I was sittin’ right here, I don’t know really what it was, some sorta noise-” “What type of noise?” Tiffany sat completely upright. “A buzzing?” Mrs. Marx scrunched her nose up, “no, maybe, it was sorta… crunchy? I was drifted off, all I remember next is just waking up, don’t really know why. One moment I was lying in the chair, and the next I was upright and lookin’ at the lobby.” Tiffany leaned forward, “What did you see?” Mrs. Marx bent down very low, her caked-on mascara almost close enough to brush her, “That’s just the thing.” She breathed, “everything. It was bright, too bright, you know? All the lights turned on.” Tiffany nodded fastidiously, “What did you do?” “Well,” Mrs. Marx flattened her skirt out, “I thought of high-tailin’ it out of there, don’t want to end up like poor Mr. Koviak.” “Yes, absolutely,” Tiffany was jotting quickly: noise, lights, waking up.
“There was this real… feel to it too. Like something cold, or like a headache, right before the pain part.” “K,” Tiffany furrowed her brow: headache?
“The lights were all on, even the ones that are motion activated,” Mrs. Marx’s eyes were wide, “but only in the left hallway.” She pointed, “Right over there.” “What did you do?” Tiffany adrenaline flooded her, “What did you see?” “Well what was there to do? I-” A bell dinged. Tiffany gripped her pencil so hard she’s afraid it might break in two, light footsteps approached.
“Excuse me,” A rich voice called out. “Are there any rooms for tonight?” Mrs. Marx and Tiffany turned toward the lobby in unison, Mrs. Marx immediately burst into a practiced smile. “Of course!” She pushed her rolling chair toward the desk and sat up straight. “What can we do you for?” The customer was a young woman with long brown hair, it had a sleek shine to it but was choppy and uneven in parts, as if someone just hacked at it a couple times. She had high cheekbones, an oval face, and lightly browned skin- native probably, from one of the local tribes.
Her eyes were dark half-moons and her lips were turned down in a grimace, she seemed a little taller than Tiffany. She was wearing a green shirt that reminded her of the military and was carrying a large duffel bag on her shoulder.
Her teeth were stunningly straight and white when she spoke and Tiffany had to lean back from the glare of them. Tiffany hunched her shoulders like a cat sprayed by water as the stranger interrupted them.
I was so close, Tiffany clenched her teeth and pedaled up to the desk next to Mrs. Marx. She was chattering away.
“So there’s bedrooms in the west wing, but not the east right now, but the sunrise in the west windows is just to die for. You can see right all the way to Black Elk Peak, have you been there darling?” “Can’t say I have ma’am.” Her voice was still low and steady, Tiffany eyed her big bag. Something was different about this. “Well it’s just lovely. Especially from the west wing windows!”
“What brings you around here?” Tiffany interrupted, she could feel her mom cringing at her from rooms away.
The young woman raised her eyebrows and refocused on Tiffany, “Just passing through.” Mrs. Marx nodded, “Most folks are.” She agreed, “A real travelers town.” She gave a small laugh, “My own Ricky, that’s my husband, was only passing through when I met him! Said he’d never stay, but look at him now- a curmudgeon with a house in the hills.” Tiffany snorted at that, but the woman just arched her eyebrow up, “sounds nice.” “Oh it is,” Mrs. Marx could go on, but I thought I’d spare the traveler a little.
“Well alright,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “As long as you’re not here for any ghost-snooping, Mr. Thomas is telling Spook Hunters to stay out.”
Mrs. Marx gave a nervous laugh, “I mean, it’s not all that.” “Oh,” the woman just cocked her head to the side, “Ghosts?” “No ghosts,” Mrs. Marx said quickly, “Bad local legends is all.” The woman leaned across the counter, “Should I be worried? I’m sure I could keep go-” “No, no,” Mrs. Marx shot Tiffany a sharp look. “Nothing of the sort, Tiffany here listens to… a lot of wacky podcasts! How long would you be staying with us?”
The woman relaxed, “Just two nights.” She said evenly, “you have internet, right?” “We have internet.” She nodded briefly and then eyed me, “And as long as no ghosts come out I suppose.” She gave a thin smile and took out her credit card. Tiffany leaned forward, “It’s not actually ghost, it’s probably a m-” “So credit card? What name should I put the room under?” The woman adjusted the bag on her shoulder, “Lona,” she said simply, “Davis.”
Mrs. Marx was already nodding and moving onto when breakfast was and the ‘no stealing our bath towels pretty please’ speech with at least two mom jokes.
Tiffany examined Lona again, her eyes dragging up and down. There was definitely something lumpy in the sack, and her boots were metal-toed, a circular tattoo was around her right wrist. And that probably wasn’t her real name.
Tiffany didn’t notice as the transaction completed.
“Have a wonderful stay at Anne’s!”
Lona gave Tiffany another curious look, “I will.” She turned and left, heading to the west wing.
Tiffany exhaled, putting a hand over her heart, then she whipped around to Mrs. Marx. “That’s a monster hunter!”
Mrs. Marx drew back, “What?” “The shirt, the bag, the boots! That girl is here to hunt the monster.” Mrs. Marx wrinkled her nose, “She seems just like everybody else. There’s all sorts that pass through, why, just last week we had a man who was a professional clown. He was dressed normal, but he told me all about at the counter. A traveling clown! Have you ever heard of-”
“Did you see that protection tattoo? She’s on the trail.” Tiffany was certain, a professional!
“Now Ms. Tiffany,” Mrs. Marx clucked, “you can’t make presumptions about someone. Especially,” she put her hands on her hips, “Customers.” “I know, I know, okay,” she waved her off, and tried to keep her theories on track, “we were talking about last Saturday first,” she kicked away from the desk, “I’m all ears.” Mrs. Marx’s eyes went wide again and she turned back to Tiffany, returning to their previous hunched position, “Well, all the lights were on-” “My fair Candice!” Another voice carried over to them, “And lovely young Tiffany.” Tiffany winced so hard she thought her heart dropped out of her ass, “Goddammit,” She cursed under her breath.
“I just saw a customer walking to room 200! A good sight.” They both turned to Mr. Thomas in unison, Mrs. Marx smiling through.
“Indeed!” She chirped, “and more than one night too.” Mr. Thomas just hummed at that and looked between us, “I hope everyone is keeping their wits sharp.” Mr. Thomas chuckled, he was a small man with a pointed mustache and crinkling boyish blue eyes under round glasses, he wore suits everywhere and shiny black shoes.
He also said very pointedly kind things that always translated to ‘keep working’ and ‘do your job already.’ This was his ‘keep working’ phrases right now.
Mrs. Marx shifted in place, “course we are! Sharp as a church point.” She winked, “Ms. Tiffany was just…” She glanced at my notepad. “Doing some schoolwork!” I nod despite the fact I had graduated highschool two weeks ago. Mr. Thomas smiled over like he was making a Christmas list, “Well if you’d like some hel-” “Actually!” Tiffany stood up, realizing she probably wasn’t going to get any more out of this. “Time for me to go. Let’s talk later.” She gave Mrs. Marx a meaningful look and she just nodded.
“And Tiffany,” Mr. Thomas called after her as she tried to quickly scurry away. “The rooms aren’t playthings.” That was one of his more blatant instructions and Tiffany was struck for a moment by feeling six and chastized by the neighbors for throwing things into their yard. She meet his eyes steadily. “Of course,” Tiffany flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and started walking, “I’m not playing.” She escaped to the second story ice machine room, cramming herself into the nook between vending machine and wall, she started to pour over her notes: noise, lights, wake up, headache?
Her thoughts dragged back to the girl at the counter and she wrote in the margins: monster hunters coming.
-------------------
It was late afternoon, the sun was streaming in through the small box windows at the end of the hall and the AC was on full blast in the simmering heat of summer. Tiffany was holding her pencil up again.
“I know you haven’t talked about it yet Mrs. Ludwig,” She followed the back of bustling old woman in a long grey dress and white bandana tied around her head. “But I’m here to listen.” Mrs. Ludwig didn’t even look over her shoulder as she walked into room 203, it had just lost it’s occupant, a Mr. Virilis. Mr. Virilis moved to greener pastures and left them with only around 5 other customers in the whole motel that night. Two of them were semi-permanent residents at this point, so she wasn’t sure they counted anymore.
Tiffany tried to step in Mrs. Ludwig’s path and catch her eye, “Please, I know it’s a very traumatic experience. I’ve been through that before.” It felt like the five stages of grief as she attempted to bargain. “With all the, uh… blood? Was there blood?”
The Koviak case had been ‘confidential’ and no details, except the occurrence of the death, had been released to the public. He was a traveling European businessman found dead in his bed two months ago, nothing else known. Mrs. Ludwig still didn’t look at her as she got out the cleaning carrier and gloves, she pushed open the propped door with her hip and didn’t look back.
Tiffany steeled herself, she took a bold step forward, “Mr. Koviak’s family has been asking!”
Mrs. Ludwig paused, turned, and fixed her with a potent icy glare, “do you plan on helping me clean?” Tiffany grimaced, her left eyebrow twitching, “Yes! I could. If… we could just have a short chat about the body.” “Run along Tiffany Green.” Mrs. Ludwig closed the door behind her and left Tiffany in the empty hall. As she had all the other times before.
“Fiiine,” Tiffany groaned and did a little spin, dragging her feet down to the other end of the hallway. If she knew Mrs. Ludwig she wouldn’t get another word out of her for at least 24 hours.
Tiffany flipped through her notes again, the fluorescent lights blared overhead, she would have paid them to flicker at this point. Buzz. Do anything.
She walked blankly ahead and fretted quietly to herself. No leads. No knowledge. How did it get around? Was it large? Was it corporeal?
Did it hate motels or just those in southern South Dakota? She just didn’t know.
It wasn’t until she was in the next hall that she heard a whirring of a machine, Tiffany looked up sharply and her eyebrows raised. Someone was actually using the motel gym.
There was a giant glass panel in the middle of the west wing, second floor. It held one elliptical machine, five weights, three sets of bell bars, two exercise benches, three jogging machines, and a water cooler. It had a speckled tile floor and frosted rectangle windows that barely let in the light.
The elliptical machine was whirring round and round as someone took it through its paces. Tiffany slitted her eyes, she recognized the figure: lean and muscled, the girl had a long choppy ponytail and a tattoo around her right wrist.
Her.
Tiffany stood there longer than she rightfully should, watching the girl’s back get damp with sweat and muscles strain with every quick step. Tiffany was tempted to inform her that, according to her notes, this wasn’t the type of monster you can run from. Training wouldn’t matter.
She doubted that would go over well.
Tiffany was leaning toward the elevator, trying to get her body to remember itself and move, it didn’t. The girl paused, her legs slowly pumping to a stop and the machine grinding down, maybe she felt Tiffany eyeing her, she turned. Their eyes met, a little tingle went up Tiffany’s spine, Lona’s dark half-moon eyes search her.
She tilted her head, expression placid as she hopped down to the floor, unreadable, she didn’t break eye contact as she moved. They stare at each other as Lona reached for a towel and wiped down her wet brow. Tiffany bit her bottom lip, maybe she’s the monster.
That seemed unlikely.
Lona took her time walking casually up to the giant window pane, Tiffany stiffened, waiting for something. Lona pursed her lips, cocking her head to the side, still considering Tiffany.
Tiffany shifted in place, her skin crawling and neck prickling, she had a feeling her cheeks had already flushed red.
The girl’s face shifted quickly, mouth falling open, eyes widening, whole body reeling back from the window. Lona pointed wildly over Tiffany’s shoulder, ‘look out!’ She mouthed urgently, breathlessly, pupils dilated. Tiffany jumped, whirling around to look left and right, holding her heart, preparing to run.
Tiffany untensed when nothing is behind her except garish yellow wallpaper and her own thumping heartbeat.
She arranged her face into something stony and unamused, she clenched her hands and turned back to the glass. Lona was grinning.
Tiffany tapped on the glass and leaned forward, “You don’t know what you’re in for.” She mouthed the words slowly, “it’s coming.” Lona frowned at that and then shrugged, “I can’t understand you.” She called, voice muffled by the glass, but still legible.
“Oh.” Lona flipped her long hair back, “do you work here?” Tiffany took a few steps back, “No.” She called, just loud enough.
“Good,” Lona turned back to her elliptical machine, “go home for the night.” Tiffany arched an eyebrow, she took a deep breath, “I don’t think so, I’m going to be the one to find it you know.” Lona glanced over her shoulder again, “Excuse me?” “I know who you are,” Tiffany pronounced loudly, “And this one’s mine.” Lona rolled her eyes, “little dramatic, don’t you think?” She wiped her neck with the towel, “Go take a nap kid, you’re not making sense.” Tiffany growled and then turned on her heels, look out. She mouthed the words and blood boiled from being pranked like a five year old in a haunted house.
What a stupid act, stupid customer who is definitely a monster hunter. Tiffany stomped toward the elevator, thoughts frenzied and whirling. She barely stopped as the lights in the hallway flickered. She froze mid-stride and looked up, the lights flickered again.
She gaped and took out her pencil, wielding it like a spear. She searched the hallway, up and down. “I’m here!” She called breathlessly, “I’m here.” Her eyes stayed glued on the lights, but they remained shining and motionless. Tiffany gulped and squared her shoulders. When she looked around she saw Lona in the hallway too, she doesn’t look half as amused this time. They don’t so much as nod at each other as Tiffany departed.
I’ll find it first.
Tiffany promised herself she wasn’t going home that night.
----------------------------
“But mom,” Tiffany could feel herself whining, “I need to stay the night.” “Not on your life.” Her mom threatened, her curly dark hair tied back and mouth turned into a hard line. “Can’t you be into, I don’t know… boy bands? Hockey? Anything else.” She closed the car doors of the 2007 volkswagen, Tiffany bared her teeth, “do boy bands eat people? No? Unimportant mom! This is important.” Tiffany was suddenly remembering all the reasons she left in the first place.
Her mom grunted and turned the car engine on, “Do you want to get hurt? It’s not a game.” “Hurt?” Her eyes lit up, “So you do believe in the monster!” Tiffany retorted shrilly, “And I’ve been training for this, I’m ready.” Her mom veered out of the parking lot, “The only monster I believe in is my daughter’s ego, and she really needs to place it somewhere else other than bad scary stories.” “You’re making this impossible,” she tried to chastise back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“That’s right, missy, no bothering the motel tonight.” Her mom sniffed loudly and drove them home.
Tiffany pouted and complained the whole way home, she figured this was how all monster hunters were treated, unbelievers were just part of the job. At least, that’s what she told herself as her mom lamented her behaviour later that night on the phone with her dad.
“I just don’t understand, how many horror movies have you been letting her watch?” Her mom paused, as her dad answered. Tiffany hid around the corner and stared at the wall, she had refused to come to dinner that night.
“Yes, Henry,” her mom sounded tired, “But I’m worried your indulgences have let her grow up like one of those undomestic- she’s not a field of wildflowers Henry, she’s a young woman, with a future. Stop it, stop, I don’t want to hear any more of your metaphors. She’s not a clay pot either! Goddamnit, you always do this. All of those self-improvement classes and you can’t listen worth a damn. Don’t start on me.”
They had one of their usual arguments.
Her mother sighed loudly after a few sharp barbs, her voice grew soft and tired, exhausted, “I just don’t know what to do with her.”
She was 19. And apparently no one knew what to do with her.
------------------
Tiffany had a clunky transistor radio in her lap and the itch of a lumpy blanket wound around her shoulders, they had My Little Pony characters on them from years ago. That was neither here nor there for her in many ways.
The clock by her bedside read 10:47 in bright red letters and Tiffany was hunched over and squinting her eyes in the dark. Her mom would notice if she turned on any lights, even at this hour.
She was certain the older woman was still holding her late night wine and indulging in her stacks of romance novels. Everyone was a paradox in their own ways, but Tiffany doesn’t point that out.
She was busy twisting knobs again. The hush of the radio blared through the air.
“We have a great setlist for you-” “Nobody, nobody, noooboooody-” “I can’t be-” “Sh-” “Ja-”
“Bzz-” She kept twisting.
Some part of her began to sink with each turn, what am I doing? She tried to push the thought down, she knew what she was doing. She knew what she saw all those years ago with her dog and she knew what she wanted now.
She had called it her ‘gap year’ between highschool and college but there was no plan to go to UCLA or San Jose University. She just needed to prove herself this once.
Monster hunters didn’t need to pour over biology textbooks that took her three different rereads to even fully absorb.
“Mountain mam-” “Sex, sex, and-” “Kis-” “Oomph,” “Ssssshhhh.” Tiffany’s hand froze and her muscles tensed, she landed on a chanel, one with strange static blaring over the line: 98.3.
She held her breath and brought the radio up to her ear, “Yes?” She whispered at the speakers and she hoped that her mom was almost done with her wine by now.
“Sssshuck.” Her eyes went wide, “Please.” She didn’t want to beg monsters, but she couldn’t lose this. Tiffany clambered to her feet and shook the radio, “Tell me.” “Sssshuch.” The radio buzzed, almost sing-song, and gave off an eery crunching static, Tiffany exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment, absorbing it. The radio buzzed, she jumped to her feet and reached for her extra-thick socks. She threw off her blanket from her shoulders and yanked on a pair of shorts and button-up shirt.
She didn’t hesitate as she quietly shoved the second story bathroom window open. It was a half mile walk to the motel. She turned the radio off, shoved it in her pack along with her notepad, several pencils and a dull kitchen knife she had carried off days ago from the dining room drawers.
Despite the heat she yanked on her brown bomber jacket and lifted herself out the window. Maybe her mom thought it was too high to jump from, maybe she underestimated how determined Tiffany was.
Maybe the woman was curled up around her ‘Favio x Angela’ novel and was far too gone to try and figure out once again what to do with her daughter.
Tiffany climbed down and started walking.
-------------------
The night was a warm sweet milk around her, cradling her and leaking into her insides like a fiery gas leak, her shirt was almost soaked through by the time she saw Anne’s. The moon was a slice of silver cheese in the sky and the South Dakota sky was a river of sparkling white blemishes against inky black night. It smelled like dry grass and dust.
She breathed in the silver and exhaled warmth, it wasn’t like this in North Cali, but maybe that’s why she came. She took out the kitchen knife, it had a plastic covering and she slipped the weapon into the waistband of her shorts.
It dug into her thigh as she walked, but she ignored it. The monster hunter had warned her about tonight, she knew she had to be here.
Exactly four lights were on Anne’s Motel: the lobby with its vibrant pale yellow light and three windows alight with their soft beige curtains drawn. Tiffany went around the back, walking past rows of low rectangle bushes and spotting a narrow metal door with a red sign over the handle: fire exit. It was supposed to be properly locked but she shook the handle back and forth gently until it clicked in place and she pushed her way in.
They were modernizing Anne’s, but it wasn’t quite there yet.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hands on the handle and bracing herself. You can do this, her ears rang, you have to.
She shouldered her way through the back door and stood in a dark hallway, lit only by silver moonlight at the other end of the long space. She held her breath. It was quiet.
The shadows seemed to play before her eyes, shifting in place and forming ghastly shapes in the dark. She sucked in a breath and pressed herself against the wall, letting the door slide closed behind her.
Nothing moved, no lights flickered. She steadied herself, “hunting,” she took deep breaths and held her chest, “Hunting is all about facing fear.” She edged forward, almost spooking herself as the motion sensors picked up on her movements and blinked on. She had rub her eyes a couple times to adjust to the sudden flood of light.
A flicker of movement arose in the corner of her left eye, “ah!” Tiffany jumped back and rolled to her left, careening to the floor on her knees. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but when she looked back up nothing was there. Again.
Tiffany took deep breaths and crept her way toward the east wing of the hotel, something had to be there. It was time, the radio had been buzzing.
The lights stay on.
Her pulse ran ramshackle through her veins and Tiffany practically crawled her way across the motel floors. The plastic knife protector dug deeper into her thigh, but she doesn’t feel it. She edged up to the second floor ice machine room, just outside the east wing, and waited- eyes opened, jaw set, world spinning slightly.
“This is it,” she whispered to herself and began to wait.
She crouched, checking, waiting, eyes strained on the fluorescent lights above and frequently sniffing the air for something. She stays perfectly still, biding her time, waiting, until the lights turn off again, and then flicker, once.
Tiffany’s eyes dart back and forth in the dark, she crept out of the ice machine room and looked up and down the long hallways. She opened her mouth to call out, ask something, prompt something.
She heard a hiss instead, “What are you doing here?” Tiffany flinched and spun around, two half-moon eyes glow in the dark behind her, a growl rumbling in the girl’s voice. Tiffany’s lifted her chin and blinked a couple times, “Oh.” “You shouldn’t be here.” Tiffany’s brow folded in, “My mom works here.” It was probably the best defense she had.
Lona’s eyes were hard and shifting around the room quickly, wildly almost, “Get out of here.” “What, are you ordering me?” Tiffany tried not to sound petulant.
Her hand came down like an iron claw on Tiffany’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise, “Yes.” That’s when the lights flared on like the sun itself had been pulsed into them, flaring to life and filling the whole space in a brilliant glow, Lona widened her stance and drew herself up. A noise like a low buzzing gurgle sounded behind them, quiet and licking at her insides like sandpaper over skin.
“Take my hand.” Lona put her hand out and Tiffany eyed it. The lights flickered above them like a sudden rapid eclipse. “Uh,” Tiffany reached for her pack instead.
“That’s another order,” Lona took an aggressive step forward, the lights flickered quickly above them, fritzing and blinking.
Tiffany gulped, “I’m not,” she tried to summon her courage, “I’m staying.” “Take it or I’m carrying you out, civilian,” Lona growled and Tiffany gave in and slipped her fingers in between Lona’s. Lona gripped them, “Don’t look back.”
They started to run.
The sound grew louder, like a clunking car engine purring through the air, metallic and crunching to the ear, static fuzzed just below the surface of the noise. The lights flickered.
Tiffany looked behind her.
“Ah!” Lona skidded to a halt, painfully squeezing Tiffany’s hand as they came to a jarring stop. Tiffany was still looking behind her, the hallway was painfully alight except for a deep dark nothingness just after the bright fluorescent overhead. Just at the end of the hall, it was too dark to see through.
What was it?
“Excuse me,” A voice said shrilly, “Oh my, I thought I heard some commotion.” Tiffany was dragged back to the other issue at hand: they had been stopped by Mr. Thomas, standing in a bathrobe and eyeing the two of them. Specifically, Mr. Thomas was eyeing Tiffany, standing in the middle of the space with his hands on his hips.
“Honestly.”
Lona drew herself up, “Sir, where is the nearest exit?” “Exit?” Mr. Thomas blanched, “is this young Miss Tiffany’s doing? I promise, any tales she might be spinning are hyped up! Please considering not cutting your stay with us short.” He gave a small, placating smile.
Lona groaned, “Sir, you don’t understand…” She reached for him next, this time with her left hand.
The lights flickered. Lona and Tiffany both instinctively took a step backward. Two of the lights went out behind Mr. Thomas.
Tiffany tried to stutter out, “Mr. Thomas,” she took another step back, “Come toward us. Slowly.”
Mr. Thomas made a face at her, “I’m sorry Tiffany, but this bothering of staff and guests has gone on long enough. No tricks are going to change that. I’m afraid I’ll have to ban you from the motel.” The light directly behind Mr. Thomas went out, a thick tangible darkness sat behind him.
Tiffany’s heartbeat pounded painfully in her ears, move, she commanded herself to move. Reach for him, beg for him.
Instead, she stood with her back to the wall, still holding Lona Davis’s hand like a five-year-old at an amusement park. Tiffany swallowed, “Okay,” she said slowly, “but first you need to-” “Shh,” Lona hushed her and pressed them both firmly up against the wall. “It’s too late.” The last light in the hallway went out. The buzzing crescendoed into an insect-like metallic cry, a song like a garbage disposal, and two perfect round lights came on from behind Mr. Thomas.
Like headlights.
“What in God’s name,” Mr. Thomas turned around as the white lights fell on him.
The headlights blinked and Tiffany took in one horrible twisting vision: a creature with two hooved feet, a massive furry body that took up the whole hall, two dark wings hanging limply off it’s back. She squinted at the face but all she saw was headlights.
And then the headlights tilted up, an enormous mouth opened wide: blunt white teeth gaped and a grey thick tongue snaked out of its giant mouth. Mr. Thomas didn’t even get in a scream before the black lips clamped down. Teeth snapping down as Mr. Thomas’s head was rested from his shoulders.
Tiffany got in a scream though, “Aaaah!” She let out a piercing shrill cry as the blunt teeth chomped through flesh and bone.
Her stomach lurched like the titanic sinking as a grotesque crunch followed, the sound of bone and skull being crushed by huge molars, thick red liquid splattered across the carpet. Tiffany couldn’t move.
“Come on,” Lona stayed true to her promise, grabbed Tiffany around the waist and hoisted her onto her shoulder. Tiffany squeezed her eyes shut as she heard another crunch and Lona carried her down the hall and through the emergency exit.
She had met the monster.
----------------------
The next few hours were a smeared blurr, filled by a sickening headache that made her whole body tremble. The first thing Tiffany did was sag forward and vomit up the dinner she hadn’t eaten.
It was clear and tasted like bile. Tiffany puked again at the sight.
“Let it out,” Lona’s voice was no less hard, but she wasn’t hovering over her at least. Her hands were busy holding a small mechanized crossbow trained on the door and twisting something around her wrist.
Tiffany took deep gasping breaths and tried not to puke a third time.
It was real, it was all real.
She had known, but knowing and seeing were two different things.
Tiffany raked at her shirt, as if were too tight, as if there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. “Here.” There was a tap on her shoulder, she turned as Lona handed her a water bottle, “Drink.” Tiffany greedily downed the entire bottle before gasping for breath again.
“Oh my God,” she started to repeat, “Oh my fucking God.” Lona just snorted, “the first one is always the hardest.”
Tiffany’s head was light and there were spots in her vision, she glanced back toward the emergency exit and wiped her palms down on her shorts. “It, it, Mr. Thomas...” She squeezed her eyes shut before taking a rattling breath, it took another minute to open them again.
She wanted to scream again, she wanted to run back in there, she wanted to turn and run the other direction for miles and miles.
“What now?” She finally rasped out instead. Lona raised her eyebrows, “I assume it disappears again after feeding.”
Tiffany’s face fell, “there was a body for Mr. Koviak.” Lona turned toward her slowly, “perhaps it only eats the head.” She took wobbling a step back from the door, “it’s so much more… it’s so much.” Lona patted her shoulder, “Drink more. This will be over soon.” Tiffany drank a second bottle of water, she turned back to Lona, feeling limp and queasy, “What are you going to do?” She leaned in close, clenching her hands down so they wouldn’t tremble, “How can I help?”
She tried to push down the sight of Mr. Thomas’s limp body falling listlessly to the ground in a splatter of red. She tried to push down the crunch and the flickering lights. I can help, I can help, I can help.
She repeated to herself over and over. I can do something.
The other gnawing voice in her head wasn’t as persistent, but just as loud: your fault.
She finished the water before handing it to Lona, “What can I do?” Lona eyed her up and down. “Go home kid,” she sighed, “Actions over for tonight.” Lona turned to leave, Tiffany’s hand jutted out and grabbed onto her sleeve.
“How old are you?” She asked slowly.
Lona made a face, “How old am I?” “And tell me the truth.” Lona snorted, “I’m 21.” Tiffany let her go, “Then I’m not a kid to you.” Tiffany lifted her chin up, “And I can help.”
Lona tilted her head, “Were you not just in there? Did you not just see that man’s head get bit off? This isn’t a game.” Her tone remained even, but there was fire in her eyes.
Tiffany looked down at her shoes, “please,” she didn’t like the waiver to her voice, “It’s my, my f-fa-” “It’s not your fault,” Lona hand waved her. “Unless you’re a monster with hundreds of teeth of course.” Tiffany pinched herself so she wouldn’t cry, she looked up again, “What is it? What is that thing?” Lona scratched her chin and looked away, “Nothing good.” Tiffany sighed, “Please,” she took a step forward, “Let me help. I knew Mr. Thomas, I know everyone at this motel.” Lona arched her eyebrow up, “you know everyone in here?” She pursed her lips, “Do you… do you have any keys?” Tiffany perked up for the first time that night, “I can get some.” “Ugh,” Lona threaded a hand through her choppy hair, “You can’t come on any of the actual hunts. You hear me? None of this again.” Tiffany nodded vigorously, “I need to avenge him, any way I can.” Lona exhaled through her nose, “I better hope you like books then.” Tiffany shrugged weakly, “Where can I sign?” She looked down and gave a mirthless laugh, “I always wanted to hunt monsters.” Lona almost popped a smile, she put a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder, “Don’t. It only gets harder from here.” “I thought you said the first one’s the hardest?” Tiffany examined Lona in the light of the moon, neither of them were moving back inside yet.
“I lied,” she started to walk, “They’re all hard.” Tiffany wasn’t sure she liked teaming up with a stranger, much less one who would boss her around. But the image of Mr. Thomas’s stark white face being engulfed was too much.
Tiffany shuddered, this really wasn’t just a summer project, it never was.
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They closed the motel down after that. It made sense, one of the owner’s had just been found headless in the hallways. His sister hadn’t made a comment yet, but it was said she found the body.
Ms. Thomas was a mousy woman in her late fifties, she had iron-grey hair and wore knee-length dresses everywhere and jackets that looked like they were from the 1920s. No one had seen her for days afterward, though Tiffany’s mom made sure to bring her soup every day and leave it at her door.
There were rumors the FBI would be sent in to look for any head-hunting serial killers. But those were just rumors.
There were rumors the Tiffany was there, that the maids were in on it, that the stranger passing through town knew something. Words flew and Tiffany felt a tremor of fear gathering in the small community.
She saw her mom pray at the funeral, get down on her knees and bend her head. There was a slight summer shower coming over the land that day and no one bothered with an umbrella.
They all stood in the light rain and bowed their heads, Tiffany knew her mom had become an atheist a long time ago, but she was muttering verses under her breath as they left. Maybe she thought it was the work of a demon after all, or maybe things like this brought out other sides of people.
Tiffany didn’t say anything at the funeral, just clenched her teeth so tight and wound her mouth shut so firmly that she thought her jaw might shatter like an old wind-up clock. She watched her shoes as she walked, entered, listened, left.
It all felt like something else, happening to some other girl.
She didn’t sleep that night, she hadn’t slept a lot since the night two weeks ago in the motel. I can do something, she repeated it to herself. I came here to do something.
She played with her transistor radio every night and waited.
It was a Wednesday at midday when she finally sought out Lona again, it would be a place to start.
Tina, from her mom’s spin class, knew Sierra, who worked at the local grocers had heard from the cashier that Lona came in every morning for a danish and a coffee. The girl was like clockwork, and better yet, she was still in town.
Tiffany rolled herself out of bed that Wednesday, glanced at the college pamphlets her mom left just outside her door and then brushed her teeth with the force of a steam engine. She didn’t bother with breakfast as she waved at her mom and left for the morning.
They were both out of work at the moment so Tiffany told her she was going to go look for a job- and it was, a job of sorts at least.
Tiffany found the girl in the fresh fruits section examining a shiny red apple, hair was loose and pushed over her right shoulder. She was wearing a navy blue shirt that day and capri jeans that covered most of a bruise on her calf. Tiffany came up behind her and cleared her throat.
“So,” Tiffany made the hunter jump. “When can we catch this horror-terror?” Lona turned and made a face, “Oh.” She paused, “hello again, uh…?” “Tiffany,” she said groughly, “Tiffany Green.” She put her hand out and they take a moment to exchange an awkward handshake.
Lona put one of the apples in her basket, “I’m afraid progress is slow.” She said carefully, backing away, “There’s complications.” Tiffany stepped into Lona’s personal bubble, “Put me to work then.” Lona pushed her hair back and started walking the other direction, “It’s not that simple. I don’t need you yet.” Tiffany followed her down the next aisle.
“Then need me now.” She insisted, “We don’t have all the time in the world, even if the motel is empty right now.” Lona didn’t look back, “We have at least a few more days.” Tiffany frowned deeply, “Take me with you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Aren’t monster hunters supposed to have backup?” She chased after the other girl’s heels.
Lona arched an eyebrow, “Hunters are supposed to be careful. First and foremost.” Tiffany opened her mouth and then closed it, ‘careful’ was not on her job resume. “Please.” She tried again. “I can’t… the motel can’t stay closed. My mom’s worked there for twelve years. I can help.” Lona wandered her way to a tall silver coffee dispenser and doesn’t say anything as she fills a large canister, Tiffany felt like a lost puppy as she followed her to the cash register.
“Fine,” Lona finally relented as Tiffany trailed her to the parking lot, “You can come back with me.” She said slowly, “there is something we can both do.” Tiffany’s mouth breaks open into a toothy smile she didn’t know she had in her, “You won’t regret it.” Lona just clicked her tongue and made her way to a blue chevy car, “Rule one,” she got in, “listen to what I say.” She just got into the car after her.
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Books. Tiffany should have anticipated books.
There was a second hotel in Rowing South Dakota, it was a motel 8 with 24-hour service, an outdoor swimming pool, and actual lawn chairs next to it. They were Anne’s main competition.
Tiffany was led through the cramped parking lot all the way to room 108 where Lona took out a set of keys and jangled the door opened. Tiffany glanced at the room momentarily, the curtains were drawn but the scent of sweet wine and something smoky wafted out of the door.
“Come in, come in,” Lona gestured quickly and Tiffany gladly ducked into the AC-blasted room and out of the heat. She turned in each direction, pictures were on the walls, books were open on every surface, there was a crossbow in the corner.
“Wow,” She breathed and milked in every second of it, Lona covered the crossbow with a blanket and pushed a pile of books aside to let Tiffany sit down on a small chair.
“Who knows, maybe a new set of eyes will actually help.” Lona muttered to herself and pushed her hair back- a habit Tiffany was starting to recognize. Tiffany twitched nervously, concentrating wasn’t her strong suit. But this was a monster, this was The Monster and sometimes that was enough to trick her brain into cooperating.
She tapped a rhythm on her legs as Lona firmly closed the door behind them, “SO,” she spoke up, “Are you finally going to tell me what we’re looking for?” Lona didn’t respond right away, opting to walk silently back across the room and take her seat on the single red-quilted bed.
“I don’t know,” Lona said clearly, evenly.
Tiffany leaned forward, “What?” “I don’t know,” Lona repeated and then turned away, she made a soft frustrated sound, “this isn’t what you think it is. These aren’t your mother’s monsters, these aren’t TV monsters.” “Okay?” She puffed her cheeks and drew a little closer, “I’m all ears then. What does that even mean?” Lona met her eye, “maybe there once was, I dunno, perfect vampires and pure weres.” Tiffany studied Lona’s face, as she was hesitating around something, “but?”
“It’s the twenty-first century, monsters change, grow just as the world did, they didn’t stop adapting just because people stopped believing.” “That, yeah, yeah?” Tiffany rubbed her neck, “Yes?” Lona cracked the book open and placed it on her lap, “it’s a hybrid.” She said simply, “I don’t know what it is, because it probably wasn’t bred into this damn world until recently.” She uncapped a highlighter with her teeth, “Damn bastards.” Tiffany blinked a couple times, “hybrid… like?” “A combo, mix, mutt,” Lona highlighted something in her book.
Tiffany looked down at her lap, “Monsters fuck.” She said to herself quietly.
Lona put her palms up in the air, “That is your great take-away?” She looked up sharply, “You can fuck monsters.” Lona rolled her eyes spectacularly, “most only once.” She shook her head, “And you haven’t met a more annoying creature than a vampire-fae or banshee-werecat, hybrids don’t make this fucking easy.” Tiffany gave a sideways sloppy smile, “You really are a monster hunter.” Lona snorted gently, “I thought we established that, yeah.” Tiffany grinned to herself and looked down, “Give me a book.” She gave her a thumbs up, “Let’s figure out which of these things have been doing the nasty.” Lona leaned back, “I’m trying not to regret this.” Tiffany winked, “Try harder.”
She gave a hoarse laugh and Tiffany cracked the spine of an ancient tome that smelled like dust and molding ink. The first picture was of a demon with seven fingers on each hand and a head of fire.
She kept turning.
---------------------------------
They had a bulletin board. A bulletin board and string and seven questions in scrawling large print. It felt like a 70s cop show and Tiffany was the spunky assistant, spunky and full of potential- as long as she kept herself whole and uneaten of course.
She paced in front of the board, the seven questions were written in fat sharpie marker and read:
How does it move around?
Where does it go?
What can it manipulate? Light? Sound?
Why is it eating just heads?
Mothman?- that one was scratched out and given a little frustrated face next to it.
Why the hotel?
Why Rowing?
They were both looking at it with blurry eyes and a slight headache by 11pm. Tiffany had sent a few hasty texts to her mom saying she was at the movies, her mom seemed to willfully give in to that.
Tiffany stretched and yawned one more time, she glanced back at the board, “What if,” she pointed to number five again, “angry mothman.” Lona groaned, “I told you ten times, it’s not mothman. He doesn’t eat people.” “But what if,” she rested her head on her own shoulder, “it was mothman? Or mothman… saw a sexy subaru and decided to have a little fun.” “Oh my god.” “I’m just saying!” She threw her hands in the air, “it has those headlight eyes.” “Yes,” Lona looked ready to toss her book across the room, “And we still have no idea why.” Tiffany yawned again, “Machine-mothman sex.” “Absolutely not,” Lona massaged the bridge of her nose, “I don’t even want to live in that world.” “Too bad,” she grinned, “I just made that world.” Lona flopped down on the bed, “what’s that you say? You want to offer yourself up the monster as a sacrifice? Virgin sacrifice? That’s very noble and bold of you.” Tiffany stuck her tongue out at her, “Hey, I’m coming up with ideas over here.” She fidgeted in place, “an’ m’ not a virgin.” She mumbled. Lona chuckled, “You know I have a lie detector-rune, right?” Tiffany’s eyes went wide, “Really?” She almost stammered. Lona tossed her head back and laughed, “No.” “Ugh,” Tiffany picked up one of the nearby dislodged motel pillows and threw it at her, “bad people get eaten by monsters you know.”
Lona sighed, “everybody gets eaten by monsters. That’s how it is.” Tiffany looked up at the ceiling and listened to the AC blast, “Maybe…” She mumbled, “It’s a weremoth-car hybrid?” Lona gave her a tired look, she shrugged, “turn to ‘were’s’ in that book over there.” Tiffany spun around in her chair, “Really?” “Not the car part, no,” Lona sniffed, “But we have to figure out the timing in between feedings, figure out something, anything.” Tiffany frowned, “Do we know if it’s feeding or not?”
Lona hung her head, “No. We don’t.” She rolled over and pointed at newspaper and book clippings, “We know there were cults in the hotel.” “For one night.” “And a burial ground.” “Ten miles away.” Lona closed her eyes and sighed, “what about a weremoth again?”
She grinned, “On it.” Lona trudged over and looked over her shoulder as she read, poured over the words, the symbols, any of it, all of it. Tiffany glanced at her several times and wondered, not for the first time, where she came from. And where she was going after this.
They kept flipping through books.
-----------------------
Night three approached like a bad hangover: thirst, headaches, and staring at nothing for a few hours straight. Her mom was starting to ask where she kept going, there were only so many movies out and she apparently didn’t buy the new ‘I made a friend’ excuse.
But Tiffany was 19, she was allowed out of the house. And into the motel 8 room 108.
Tiffany was lying on Lona’s bed, back resting against the headboard, and transistor radio back in her lap. Lona was in the corner furiously flipping through yet another book, this one titled: The Supernatural of North America, volume Five.
She was growling, “no glowing eyes, no winged creatures with glowing eyes. No head eating!” She spilled the book onto the floor, “Useless.” Tiffany kept her eyes down and responded in a monotone, “Don’t give up yet.”
Lona angrily got to her feet and started to pace, “So useless. There’s nothing here, we might as well name it ourselves.” Tiffany’s mouth twitched, “The Lona-saurus.” “Yeah, why not.” Tiffany laughed, looking up, “Lona-terror.” She shook her head, “Don’t you want it named after you?” She grinned, “No.” she tilted her head to the side, “Though I do have a question for Lona-Human.”
Lona paused and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking,” Tiffany kept fiddling with the dials and glancing around the room. “How did you get into this business anyway?” Lona glanced over her shoulder, “I told you earlier. That’s confidential. You shouldn’t know about all of this,” she was murmuring now, “How am I going to explain any of this?” Tiffany frowned, “To who?” Lona turned on her heels and kept pacing, “No one.”
Tiffany groaned and kept flipping through her channels. “Jesus lov-” “Shuckin-” “Pi-” “Shh-” “Ki-” “Would you stop that?” Lona crawled onto the bed with her, “I don’t know how much time we have left and it’s distracting.” “Shush,” Tiffany suddenly sat upright in bed as she found the chanel again: 98.3. It was dead quiet. “Here it is.” The quiet stretched on and Lona reached to take the radio from her, “Knock it off.” Tiffany rolled away from her.
“Listen!”
As if on queue, the static blared to life.
“Oh shit!” Tiffany shook the radio in midair, “There is it.” Lona raised an eyebrow, “What is it?” Tiffany glanced up, “this is the chanel,” she bit her bottom lip, “The monster channel,” she whispered it and glanced at the door just in case.
Lona scooted closer to her, “Well it sounds like you’re getting bad reception,” she didn’t seem particularly impressed. “Here. It’s probably a blocked chanel.” Lona reached for something in her pocket, holding the object with her right hand and bringing it to her lips. She seemed to whisper to it and then spit on the surface. Tiffany wrinkled her nose at that, but noted closely as the other girl placed a shiny metal rock on top of the radio.
“Turn the dial now,” Lona commanded, Tiffany reluctantly complied.
“I’m telling you, it doesn’t get any clearer than-” She turned the dial and voices immediately began pouring in through the speakers, chanting, singing, wild and strange. Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat.
“Sanguis Bibimus. Corpus Edimus. Sanguis Bibimus. Corpus Edimus. Tolle Corpus Satani! Ave!” Unmistakable gibberish came over the speakers with a grating metal sound in the background, unmistakably dark, unmistakably powerful. The hairs on her arm stood on end, demonic.
Lona stood up immediately, “Of course,” she reached for her duffel bag, “Of fucking course.” Tiffany bounced to her feet, radio still in hand, “What, what is it?” The demonic chanting continued. “Stay here, turn that off,” Lona ordered, “I have to hurry.” Tiffany grabbed her wrist before she could dart away, “What’s going on,” she shoved herself into Lona’s face, “You owe me that much.” Lona struggled with something for a moment before opening and closing her mouth, “Do you remember what the monster looked like?” “Yeah,” Tiffany shuddered, “glowing eyes, wings, huge ass mouth.” “Remember the teeth?”
Tiffany squinted, “I… don’t think I can forget.” “They were blunt,” Lona shouldered her way toward the door, “This isn’t a carnivore, someone else is doing this, that channel… it must be going through the whole town.” Tiffany followed after her, “You’re not stopping me from coming with.” Lona tugged at her hair, “I don’t have time for this.”
“Then don’t fight it.” Tiffany reached out, “I can come with you now or hitch hike there, I’m not staying.” Lona pinched her lips together, glaring and wrestling with something. They stare off for a long minute, finally, Lona stepped aside and Tiffany climbed into the car with her.
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“Rule number one,” Lona was speeding down the city central road like she wanted to leave skid marks on it, “Don’t come in.” “No.” “Rule number two,” Lona growled, “Stay away from the monster.” “I mean, I’ll try,” Tiffany could feeling her blood pumping through her ears, I’m not going to freeze up this time. She made herself a promise.
“Rule three,” Lona swerved into the parking lot, her face a placid sheet of determination, “if I say run, then you run.” Tiffany nodded, “I can do that.” Her hands trembled slightly, she balled them up and met Lona’s eyes, “I can do that.” Lona’s face slipped into a small smile as they pulled into the parking lot, “And if you can’t run…” She handed her a small pointed cross, “Fight like hell.”
Tiffany smiled back as she took the pointed cross, “Is this for demons then?” Lona kicked her door open and took out her crossbow, “We’re about to find out.” Tiffany edged out of the car and ran after her.
Tiffany watched Lona’s long hair swing back and forth as they strode toward the hotel, no lights were on, it stood quiet and empty. She nursed a growing nausea in her gut at the sight, nerves burning through her system and forcing her feet to follow Lona anyway.
“Lona,” Tiffany chased her heels, “I’ve got your back.” Lona snorted and looked over her shoulder, “I am going to be in so much trouble for bringing a civilian into this.” She pushed her dark hair back, “Is there anything I can say to get you to turn around?” Tiffany drew herself up, “Not on your life. Now,” she cracked her knuckles, “Lemme get us in.” Tiffany found the back door and carefully jiggled it open, she could feel them both holding their breath. Hybrids, she was still wrapping her mind around it.
This wasn’t the movie monsters, it wasn’t even the white-limbed forest walker she was certain ate her dog all those years ago. This was the real deal.
She doesn’t have time to process what this would mean, she cracked the door open and a buzz sizzled through the air. Their eyes both went wide, Lona darted in first, crossbow out, Tiffany pushed her way in after before Lona can lock her out.
The door shuts softly behind them and the lights flicker softly overhead, Lona crouched down and Tiffany stood in place. The yellow wallpaper and green carpet suddenly seemed like a funeral walk, she looked down the narrow space and looked for something.
Lona grabbed her wrist and forced her up against the wall, “Don’t just stand there.” She hissed and placed Tiffany in the corner. “Careful.”
They crept down the long corridor and the echoes of demonic chanting reverberated through Tiffany’s headspace, remembering the sound of ghoulish voices calling across the radio.
You knew there would be dangers, she reminded herself, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.
The lights flickered and Tiffany looked in all directions, waiting for teeth or shadows or giant wings that swept them all away. She tensed her muscles and crept after Lona, keeping her back to the wall, the lights flickered.
It’s quiet, but Tiffany swore she heard the sound of distant buzzing, metallic and crunching.
“I don’t like this,” Lona murmured, “We needed more… more time. More information.” She heard her take a deep breath.
Tiffany clenched her teeth, they hadn’t figured out what the chanting even meant. “It’s coming,” she said, “We have to stop it.”
Lona nodded back, “Keep your eyes open, we don’t know when or where-” “Aaah!” A shriek shattered the air, gut-wrenching and sharp. They share a look, then they are running. Tiffany flung herself toward the cry, focusing on pumping each leg forward and keeping in motion, they followed it toward the second story.
They crashed into the fire escape door and sprinted up the flight of stairs, it was east wing.
“You took him,” a wobbling voice cried, “You took him, devil, bastard.” It was a desperate, watery wail.
Lona burst the upstairs door open, the hall was dark, dark and breathless and a pair of eyes are blaring like two white perfect headlamps. Tiffany blinked a couple times until she could see more clearly.
Ms. Thomas was holding up a fire-poker and brandishing it back and forth like a sword. Maybe she had come for vengeance too.
For a moment Tiffany’s breath is taken away, the creature loomed at the end of the hall. Eyes like flashlights, a buzzing emanating off of its body. It’s massive mouth was a slit across it’s lower face, she could make out two fuzzy atena hanging down above it this time.
It’s massive furry body filled the space and blunt white teeth were just visible in the dark.
Ms. Eve Thomas held up her poker, “stay back.”
The creature lumbered forward undeterred, but Tiffany was moving before she could question it, question anything. Ms. Thomas stabbed up at it’s open gaping maw. Tiffany lunged first, tackling her to the ground and falling head over heels into the wall as the creature’s mouth came down over nothing.
An arrow whizzed above them and a solid thunk carried through the air, Tiffany looked up to see the end of the projectile lodged into the creature’s right shoulder. The creature stumbled in place and took a moment to touch the black arrow embedded into its flesh, fresh black blood oozing out.
It threw its head back and opened its mouth wide.
A buzzing insectoid noise lept from it’s throat, Tiffany reached to cover her ears but Lona was yelling at them. “Move,” she yelled and let loose another crossbow arrow. This one just barely grazed the creatures left leg and left a trail of blood spilling onto the carpet.
The creature stumbled forward, saddling up alongside them, it’s thick arms reaching out wildly and grasping in the dark, Tiffany could smell it’s musk, hear it’s labored breaths.
Tiffany pushed Ms. Thomas forward, “Run!” She yelled, “run goddammit.” Ms. Thomas scrambled forward, reaching for Lona, but Tiffany paused, there was something on the ground, something behind them. It was a thin strip of white paper, black ink was scrawled vertically along it.
The paper lead down the hall and up the creatures back, up and up, Tiffany followed it with her eyes. She licked her lips, “Lona,” she said slowly, eyes not leaving the paper, “I’m breaking rule number two.” “No you’re fucking not.” Lona called, trying to reload another arrow just as the monster lurched toward her, slow, but deadly with it’s thick grey tongue lashing out.
“Huh,” Tiffany grunted and sprung to her feet, it’s headlamp eyes turned toward her, hitting her directly in the face, neck turning like an owl’s. Tiffany threw herself on it’s massive furry body and climbed.
The grating buzzing noise boomed, Tiffany flinched but managed to dive for the paper tied around the creatures neck. It was arranged like a noose, tied and scrawled with inky dark unreadable letters.
The creatures hands thrashed at her, Tiffany kicked at it’s claws and latched her hands onto the paper. The moment she grabbed the scroll a fiery burn bloomed in her flesh that sparked all the way to her elbow, burning and bleeding into her skin. “Agh,” she screamed and let go, luckily, she slammed into the wall instead of into the creatures enormous mouth and searching tongue. Pain burst from her head and hands, she hit the wall and slid limply to floor.
Her vision blurred and tilted, but voices were yelling, calling, she feably pushed up and fumbled back to her feet, the world was a rush of nonsense sound and light. A hand thrust out and grabbed her shoulder, yanking her out of the way as a row of blunt snapping teeth descended.
Tiffany is pulled to safety for a second time.
“Thanks,” she said weakly as Lona crashed them into the nearest wall and out of the way.
Lona’s eyes didn’t leave the monster, “What the hell was that?” Tiffany glanced down at her burned hands, headlamp eyes were sweeping toward them once more, “You’re right,” Tiffany reached for her pocket, “I don’t think it wants to do this.” Lona pushed them back again, “We need to retreat, regroup-” “Hey Lona,” she thought of Mr. Thomas, his face pale and mouth open as the teeth closed in around him. “If anything happens,” she took a deep breath, “Don’t tell my mom I died doing something stupid after all.” Lona’s hand was firm across her shoulder, “Don’t you da-” She wiggled free by jumping out of her brown bomber jacket, she slid smoothly forward and jammed herself directly into the monster’s path. The headlights blind her for a moment, but she jumped up this time, leaping blindly just as the creature lunged to take her head off. She wound her arms around its neck as it bent down.
A thick grey tongue licked at her leg, but she kicked and grabbed at the paper noose tied firmly around its neck. She cringed at the searing burn in her right hand, but drew the sharpened cross up and sliced at the paper. Tiffany prepared herself to have to saw and tear away, but the paper broke like wet tissue paper against the press of the holy object, it smoked gently and fell away.
A deafening screech followed and her whole world tremored.
Tiffany was falling again, falling and falling, just as a pair of hands collided into her back, stopping her head from cracking against the hard floor. Lona had dove for her as she fell away from the beast.
The creature screeched again, it’s voice insectoid but losing it’s inhumane metallic clang. Lona started to pull, “The door,” she yelled and started tearing away, “We need to get the door.”
Tiffany barely remembered stumbling and sweating her way down the stairs and back to the first story, her hands screaming in pain and head spinning. Lona shepherded them toward the fire exit just as the creature rammed itself into walls and ceiling, knocked out the lights as it flew rapidly in all directions.
The emergency exit peeled open and they threw themselves out. Tiffany gasped for air, Lona pushing her out of the way just as a huge furry body burst out behind them.
The summer air was somehow cooler on her flushed skin and she swayed in place, the fight leaving her battered body, but she couldn’t let her eyes close, she stayed in place, transfixed.
The shadows melted off the enormous humanoid beast, the dark blacks fading into a sharp silver, it’s wings extending, grey and covered in spotted intricate markings. It’s headlamp eyes shun in the night and it’s antena extended.
It was a light grey now, sparkling almost, wings massive and whumping in the night.
“Oh,” Tiffany stepped back, “ Oh fuck.” Lona kept her hands around her, she chuckled, “Huh,” she said simply, “A fairy creature.” Later, Lona would call it a ‘will-o-wisp’ mated with a moth beast, a lost mutt fairy creature.
It’s movements were quick and decisive, slightly lopsided and presumably still wounded, it sped into the horizon. It’s silverback disappeared into the trees, the buzzing and screeching following it and the world fell quiet and still.
“Will it,” Tiffany felt her tingling limbs to make sure they were all still there, “Will it eat any more people? Should we go after it?” Lona’s eyes trailed down to Tiffany’s raw red hands, she shook her head, “Someone was controlling it. With those chants and that leash,” their eyes meet, “it should be safe now.” Tiffany exhaled, “Who would do that?” Lona shrugged, “There are plenty of bad people in this world.” She pushed Tiffany’s blonde hair back from her sweaty face, “don’t worry about it.” Tiffany slumped down, “There you go again. With orders.” She chuckled and sat gasping in the light of the descending moon, “You’ll notice I’m not very good with those.” Lona collapsed down next to her, “well thanks for not dying at least.” Tiffany shot her a slow smile, “Thanks for letting me almost not-not-die.” Lona chuckled, “please don’t thank me civilian. This isn’t what we’re supposed to do.”
“Okay,” Tiffany’s head lulled to the side, falling onto Lona’s shoulder, “you’re welcome then.”
Lona put her head down too, “That was stupidly brave, there.” She sighed, closing her eyes, her voice becomes lower, small even, “Don’t become a monster hunter Tiffany, please.” There was something unsettling soft in her tone.
Tiffany closed her eyes too, “Too late.” They stay there for a very long moment, contemplating their own mortality, burns, and various fly-away feelings seeping into tired bones.
Lona was gone in the morning.
Tiffany torched all of her college pamphlets on the burner, bandaged her hands, wrote a note to her mother, and followed after.
FIN
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floralseokjin · 6 years
Text
;hurricane (m)
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wanting something you can’t have will only lead to heartbreak… That’s what you should have told yourself when you began to fall for Jung Hoseok. For forbidden fruit tastes sweeter, but spoils faster...
pairing | jung hoseok x reader   genre/warnings | smut, angst, professor! hoseok words | 19,881
songs | hurricane | 30stm + reserved seat | hyukoh
author’s note | as I got into this storyline it grew into something more and more (hence the word count lol). As someone who’s not necessarily a fan of professor aus, I hope I put my own little realistic spin on this. I would imagine these scenarios never play out well in real life, so don’t expect a happy ending…(although, hopefully bittersweet?) Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ~
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The forbidden fruit.
That was the catalysed to this broken world if you really thought about. If you believed the Bible. People always want what they can’t have. Temptation is the hardest feeling to overcome. Most people are not strong enough. You’re one of them, most probably. Although you feel no guilt or nervousness. You match the temptation with the same level of ferocity. You always get want you want, and you want Jung Hoseok.
Professor Jung Hoseok.
The pesky little detail that mattered the most. Technically he was your professor, although you hated his class the moment you’d sat down. It was a mindless filler you had to take to help you graduate this year, and he was the only thing that made it bearable.
At first it was nothing to lose sleep over. He was just something nice to look at as you daydreamed. To be honest, at first, you didn’t even notice how good looking he was. You first noticed it on a whim when he removed his glasses one day. Cliché or not, you don’t care, that was the first time you realised how sexy he was, and that’s when you started to really watch him after that.
Strict, taking no shit from the students that fill up the theatre. Expression stern, unnerved, as he frequently told a couple of idiotic rich boys to shut the fuck up. Okay, maybe he doesn’t say it quite like that. There’s no swearing involved, but that’s because he’s strictly professional. Although, you bet in private he has quite the dirty mouth…
Yes, soon it doesn’t take you long to be daydreaming about him when you sit down for your weekly history lecture…
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It’s all just fantasy until it’s a reality. Until he’s dangling right in front of you; just out of reach, but if you stretch out a few more millimetres you’d be able to get him…
It’s funny how things work out. Fate some would say. By chance, that’s more like. Chance is how you see him one night. It’s not a bar you’re usually in, in fact, you’re not much of a bar person, but your friend has a good way of convincing you otherwise—if not just for a night.
Subin escorts. She’s tried to get you in on it too, but you’re not interested. Sure, it’s easy money, especially to help you through the last few months of college, but you don’t fancy humouring lonely men multiple nights a week. It’s just made even more sad when all you do is drink and eat with them. Pretty pathetic if you ask yourself… However tonight she’s roped you in. She was desperate after another girl dropped out. Two men didn’t want to drink with just one woman. You couldn’t even understand why these men wanted to ‘double date’ anyway, even more sad in your opinion, but Subin had convinced you to come along, the free drinks something you couldn’t think to turn down, especially after a stressful week.
The men were actually quite handsome, which only made you think there was something wrong with them… If they were normal they’d have already settled down by now—a few years older than you maybe, around Professor Jung’s age possibly… You always did this, found a way to think of him. It was getting a little bit beyond now. You didn’t mean it, it just happened.
Tonight though, maybe there was a reason you were thinking of him more. A sixth sense of sorts.
You first notice him by accident. Leaning down as you sat facing your date to fix your shoe. Your heels were new and you hadn’t had a chance to wear them in yet. You could feel the squeeze of the tight leather pinching at your ankle. You turn on chance, taking a glance behind you as you rub the sore that’s began to form, and your heart drops into your stomach, shock filling you. It’s him. Sat alone at the bar, sipping lazily on his whisky. Shock soon turns to excitement.
You watch him all night, or as slyly as you can of course. You don’t want Subin catching on, although she doesn’t know who he is exactly. However, it’s very clear something’s up when you don’t engage in any conversation whatsoever with your company. You’re too busy hoping Hoseok will notice you somehow… Does he even know you exist? You highly doubt it. To him you’re just a name on a paper he has to mark.
You want him to notice you. If only just a look, a nod in your direction. You want it so badly it hurts. But his figure stays sat facing the bar all night, back facing you.
.
.
“You haven’t paid attention all night,” Subin gripes as you wait for a taxi to turn up.
The night had finally ended. Although if truth be told you could’ve stayed there even longer, just to steal glances at Hoseok. You’d waved goodbye to your company moments prior, after they’d paid up of course, and now you were freezing your ass off trying to flag down a ride home. The men hadn’t even been polite enough to let you and her go first…
“That’s not true,” you shake your head, still a little distracted from tonight’s events.
“What were their names?”
Subin’s question catches you off guard, your mind coming up blank. She has you with that one. You hadn’t been listening. Not that you owed them anything. You’d gone along for Subin, nobody else. It meant more to her. You couldn’t care less.
She sighs, taking your silence as the answer she needed. “Here’s the cut I promised you,” she says, counting out 6 twenty-dollar bills from her wad.
Escorting pays well, you realise, but yet, still not enough to persuade you into making this a regular thing. It’s too much hassle, having to pretend. You don’t even know how Subin does it. Having to humour sad little men. It’s not even to do with sex, which makes it even more pathetic. If it was, you could maybe understand why they pay for it.
“Keep it,” you shrug, making your decision spontaneously. She looks confused. You sigh, pushing her hand back towards her. “You’re right, I wasn’t into it. You deserve it more.”
She pauses, looking a little taken back, but doesn’t dispute you. She probably thinks she deserves it more too. After all, she was the one stuck conversing with both idiots tonight. You turn your head slightly, making sure to have once last glance inside the bar, just to see him one more time, as you hear Subin shoving the money in her purse, exclaiming about how a taxi is coming, but you’re too occupied, heart jumping around in your chest as you watch Hoseok get up from his chair. He’s leaving.
For the second time tonight, you make a split-second decision. This one probably way more stupid than losing out on $120.
“Listen,” you rush, turning back to see the taxi pull up on the sidewalk. “I think Taehyung’s in the bar down from here, I’m going to stay out a little longer.”
Subin’s eyes widen for a moment. You can tell she’s wondering if she should come too. She’s a good friend, but for once you want her to be a bad one. You must’ve annoyed her tonight because she has one foot in the taxi before you can assure her you’ll be alright.
“Okay,” she sighs. “See you in class.”
And then she’s closing the door, telling the driver where she lives.
It’s cold out here. You only just realise when you’re left with your thoughts, waiting for Hoseok to appear. Or maybe you’re just nervous, the chill in your body the anticipation that vibrates inside you. You’re definitely not meeting Taehyung. Your friend isn’t even out tonight. Actually the last you’d heard from him, he was eight hours into a Stranger Things marathon… No, you’re now alone, in the middle of the night, waiting for some man to leave a bar. Your Professor at that… The realisation almost makes you want to blanch and run. However, just then, you hear the door of the bar open and close. It’s him. You just sense it.
He stops about a yard away from you, his figure in your peripheral. You steal a glance, but he’s looking at his phone. You stand there awkwardly, hugging your arms around your body, pretty sure he hasn’t noticed a figure standing next to him. You shiver while racking your brains for options, wishing now more than anything you’d gotten in the taxi with Subin.
A throat clears. His, and then you hear him speak.
“Hello.” It’s a polite hello, but curious at that, and you slowly glance at him, finding his gaze locking with yours. You smile awkwardly, unsure if he recognises you, or if he’s just being polite. “You should’ve brought a jacket,” he comments with a jerk of his head, eyes travelling to your bare shoulders.
He noticed you shivering. Great. Your arms wrap around your body tighter, trying to think of a reply. Your black spaghetti strapped dress seemed a good idea at the time, and probably was a good idea if you hadn’t let Subin ride away without you.
“I forgot to bring one,” you finally decide on. Lamely at that.
“Are you alone?”
He sounds a little concerned, his tone just like that in the lecture theatre when nobody knows the answers to his questions. He must recognise you.
“I came with a friend but she left with someone…” you shrug, trying to figure out the best excuse. In the end, regardless of what you have to say, you don’t know what the end outcome is. This is a pointless meeting. You should have just gone home with Subin. You repeat the thought like a broken record.
He steps closer to you and your heart begins to beat like crazy. It’s his natural affect on you. Stupid. However, there’s a means to his method, and you watch as he raises his arm, flagging down an oncoming taxi. He’s leaving so soon…?
The taxi pulls up and he steps closer to it, casually looking behind him to see you frozen in place. His eyes are big and friendly, but his expression is a little rigid, concern maybe…
“Do you have money to go home?”
You panic, more stupidity washing through your body as you shake your head. Of course you have money, but the idea of where this is going is too exciting to pass up.
“Where to?” The taxi driver breaks you out of your thoughts, making you jump a little. You hadn’t even realised he’d lowered his window down, watching you and Hoseok expectantly.
Hoseok sighs lightly, almost under his breath, but you hear it anyway. “Give him your address.”
If your heart wasn’t beating faster than ever before, it’s practically jumping out of your throat by now, thudding against your ribcage. Hoseok opens the back door, ushering you inside with his arm, and you step forward, quickly recalling the street you live on to the driver, butterflies in your stomach as you feel Hoseok’s figure behind you. To your surprise he gets in with you, totally disregarding the passenger’s seat.
The vehicle is filled with an awkward silence as the driver takes off. You’re still wondering if Hoseok knows who you are. They way he so easily struck up conversation with you, the way he was concerned…the way he let you get the taxi with him… You’re sure he recognises you.
He proves your point with his next question.
“_____, right?”
His tone is soft, but there’s a gravel to it you don’t hear in class. Or maybe that’s just because you haven’t been this up close and personal before. However, you’re hardly thinking about that. Not when he knows your name. It sounds good falling from his lips.
“Yes, Professor,” you nod, feeling a little flustered as you wrap a lock of hair behind your ear.
“We’re not in class right now,” he tells you with a murmur, and your heat jumps. He wants you to call him by his name?
“Okay,” you smile, looking him right in the eyes this time as you correct yourself. “Yes, Hoseok.”
He looks away immediately, a low chuckle sounding from him. As he speaks, he refuses to meet your gaze again. “You know my name?”
“Of course,” you shrug. It’s written on the door to his lecture theatre. Everyone knows his name. But not every Professor knows their students’. “And you know my name…” You bite down on your bottom lip. An action of clarification, but you notice Hoseok’s eyes catch the action. He swallows, adam’s apple visible.
“It’s my job.”
It could very well be the truth. Two weeks ago you had indeed received your marked paper to find it had the most annotations you’d ever seen. You’d failed, but you didn’t care. Not when all you could pay attention to was the way he wrote your name in cursive… It didn’t matter that he was telling you quite seriously, that you needed to study more otherwise you’d fail his class…
The car lulls into silence. It’s not awkward per se but there’s a slight atmosphere between you. You can’t piece it, but he has a small frown on his face as he watches out the window. You take the time to look at his clothing. You’ve never seen him outside the classroom, and chances are you won’t be seeing him again like this, so you absorb the little details. Like how his shirt is loosely buttoned around his neck, flesh peeking through. In class he always has his top button up. He always wears a crisp white shirt too. Tonight, he’s wearing black. It’s less fitted, less opaque, and he’s never looked better. His hair is slightly ruffled. Maybe from the long day he’s had, who knows, but it suits him, and your stomach twists in aberrant desire.
You want to open your mouth, to say just about anything, because you don’t want this night to end. You want to cherish it. You want to have this one thing to think back on. The night you rode in a taxi with the Professor you had a crush on. It’s innocent right now, that’s the beauty. But innocent is boring. Innocent is unfair. The way heat simmers down below tells you innocent isn’t what you body wants.
Two things happen at once next. Telling you maybe Jung Hoseok isn’t as innocent as you think.
First, the taxi stops, pulling up on the sidewalk and before you can realise you’ve arrived home, the driver speaks. “Here we are.” Three simple words that have you scurrying for the door handle. You don’t want to hold anyone up, especially knowing Hoseok has to pay for your lies. Two twenty-dollar bills sit heavily in your purse the whole time.
Second, Hoseok had been turning his head to face you when the driver spoke. To say what, you’ll never know, maybe he wasn’t going to say anything, but the quick movement of your body makes his gaze fall, and that’s when you see it. You’re turning your head back to say your thanks, so you can’t miss it. The way his eyes glide over your bare legs, stopping right where your dress ends. It lingers. As if he can’t help it, and then slowly you see the panic form when he realises you’ve noticed.
Your gaze locks, but neither of you say anything just yet. The desire burns inside you, ignited by his action. It’s not until you hear the driver tap on his wheel impatiently do you jump into action. Smiling faintly at him as you murmur your thanks.
“See you in class,” is what he says as you step out, and you wonder if his gaze is now locked on your behind…
When you get in, you masturbate twice. Once in the shower, and once twisted up inside your sheets as slumber fails to get you.
For the first time since your crush developed, you let yourself imagine him.
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Monday doesn’t come quick enough, and finally you find yourself sat in your usual seat in his class. Once again, you don’t listen to a word he says, concentrate solely on him. He’s back in his usual attire; crispy white shirt, dark coloured tie with matching slacks. It feels like a dream when you remember back to the taxi. Being that close to him, smelling him, having him check you out. The last part is the most unbelievable, but you know what you saw. You shared something in that moment. When your eyes locked.
You huff to yourself, slowly shaking away your silly reverie, leaning your chin in your palm as you absentmindedly begin to draw little doodles on your paper. It may as well stay a dream anyway. It’s not like it can mean anything. It’s only when you feel the little hairs on your arms prick up, do you pause. You know that feeling, as if someone’s looking at you. You feel it from the direction of the front, and as you look up you meet his eyes.
Hoseok is staring straight at you. Not a glance, not a look, a stare. He’s back at his desk now, and you ponder how he got there, you’d got to so lost in yourself you hadn’t even noticed. This hall is far to big for the number of students who fill his class, so heads are dotted very few and far between. He has a great view of you. You feel your body heat up, excitement whirling around inside your stomach. It’s been ignited again, only this time it’s an uncontrollable glee at his bold action.
You smile at him, small and coy, like you’re unable to give him anything else. Of course your hunger for him runs a little wilder, but now, sat in his class, you feel almost shy. Which is unlike you. You had never in your wildest dreams expected him to acknowledge you again. If anything, you’d thought he’d go out of his way to avoid you. He had after all let his eyes linger on a student of his… You wonder if he’d thought such dirty thoughts as you…
Disappointedly he blanches and looks away immediately, as if you noticing his action confirm his thoughts. You continue to watch as he busies himself with paperwork, marking no doubt. It hits you then, that he’s probably assigned your class to do something, aware of all the pens scurrying across their paper, but you’re still sat, page blank except for some flowers, staring at Hoseok. He doesn’t look in your direction again, as if he knows your eyes are locked on his form, and that’s the way it continues until class finishes.
You get up hurriedly, feeling a little put out. It’s stupid, you know that. You’re a silly girl if you think he’s going to give you the time of day. It’s a fantasy, and he’s a man, that’s why he’d looked at you the way he had in the car. It didn’t mean anything, and you need to get over your stupid little crush—
“Can _____ stay back please?”
His voice breezes towards your ears, your name sounding heavenly. Nobody else pays any attention, already collecting their things with haste to leave. You begin to pack away slowly, waiting until everyone has sieved out to make your way down the steps towards his desk. The curiosity itches away at you, eyes excitedly bouncing around his face as you get closer.
He’s tidying a stack of papers, face expressionless, but you can’t help but notice the way his jaw is clenched, as if he can’t focus properly. You stop beside him instead of opposite his desk. You don’t know why. It’s sometimes like your brain acts without you.
“You wanted me.” You speak clearly. Confidently, even though your nerves are shot to pieces. Just getting to speak to him like this again is unbelievable.
He clears his throat with a cough before replying. “Yes.” He stops shuffling with the papers then, straightening his back before facing you. If he’s bothered by your close proximity, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he carries on. “What were you doing at that place on the weekend?”
Your brows furrow, mouth parting in confusion. Whatever it was, you weren’t expecting that. Although, to be perfectly honest, you hadn’t placed bets on what he was going to say. It would never end in that fantasy of yours anyway, so what was the point…
“What do you mean?” You puzzle.
He jumps in instantly, almost as if he’s been rehearsing it. “It’s just dangerous being out on your own. I know what goes on there sometimes…”
You feel shock run through your body, offended, and maybe a little embarrassed. You didn’t know if that place was rife with escorting, but it must be popular enough if Hoseok’s making assumptions. You think back to the way you were dressed that night and cringe a little.
“I wasn’t on my own though,” you dispel quickly. “I was with my friend.” That much was true.
“And how would you have gotten home if I hadn’t been there?” He counters immediately, taking you by surprise.
“Well, it was lucky you were.” On a normal day, with a normal Professor, you wouldn’t dream of talking to him like this, the tension in your voice evident. Maybe it’s because you feel guilty for lying to him. Although, on the flip side, they were only white lies. Yes, you had accompanied Subin, but that was just you being a good friend. You straighten your back, defensive on as you bristle. “I can assure you I’m not doing anything stupid.”
You meet his gaze and he stares long and hard at you, as if he’s trying to call your bluff. If this was the night in the taxi you perhaps would have melted, but in this moment you’re feeling quite pissy. You don’t like feeling judged. Especially by the man you can’t stop thinking about.
After a moment he nods slowly, busying himself with his papers again, giving in it would seem, or maybe he really does believe you. You hear him mutter something under his breath which sounds a lot like “just as long as your safe,” and no matter how hard you try, you soften. Why is he so concerned for you? What do you matter to him?
You realise the conversation’s over when he doesn’t speak again, and in fear of that reality, you quickly pull out your notebook from your bag. “While we’re here,” you begin, thinking on instinct as you flick to an assignment he’d set a couple of weeks ago. You hadn’t even made a start yet, knowing you’d probably rush it all the night before it was due. Unless…
“Can you help me on the project you set?”
“Sure,” he shrugs casually, motioning for you to place your work on his desk.
He helps you diligently, voice low and careful as he gives you pointers. For once, you actually listen to him, enjoying the sound of his voice, but mostly you’re stealing glances at him. He smells good, better with proximity; earthy, spicy. Your toes curl as you try to bid your gratuitous thoughts away.
It’s with one of your secret glances that you notice his own sink to your chest. You’d forgotten you were wearing a loose blouse, the weather unpredictable these days, and as you leaned down to study his notes it had gaped. He had a perfect view of your white lace bra, the swell of your breasts filling the cups perfectly.
The fire is back, his sly glance having stoked it once again. Innocent or not, he’d done it. Oblivious to your notice, and you gain the much needed confidence you’d been pushing for ever since he’d brought up the weekend.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Go ahead,” he nods, looking a little puzzled, because by your tone he knows it’s not to do with the assignment. He stands up straight but you stay in the same position, lace and breasts still calling his attention. He doesn’t give in though.
“Why were you there?”
The look of shock is right there on his face. For a minute you think he’s going to tell you your question is inappropriate, scoffing as he shakes his head. You have your retort rehearsed already. It’s only fair, you asked why I was there… However, in the end it turns out you don’t have to use it. He replies simply with a shrug of his shoulders.
“To drink. I go there every weekend.”
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You’re an idiot. You’re playing a dangerous game. A humiliating game if it all goes wrong. If your assumptions are wrong. You’ve never acted so outrageously, but it seems you’re so intoxicated by Hoseok, it’s hard to think. That’s how you find yourself right back at that bar again. It’s Saturday, exactly a week after your first encounter, and if he’s true to his word, he goes there every weekend. This one shouldn’t be any different—and it isn’t.
You take a deep breath as you walk up to him, his figure sat at the bar exactly where he had been last weekend. You pull the skirt of your dress down nervously. This time your floral dress is a little more modest around the legs, but you’ve made sure your cleavage is as elevated as it can be.
You take one more breath, his seated form centimetres away from you, and then you speak, making a beeline for the stool next to him.
“Hello, Professor…”
The seat scrapes across the floor as you move to sit, but you don’t miss the look of sheer shock on his face as he does a double take your way. “____,” he gasps before swallowing hard, steeling his face of all expression. “What are you doing here?”
“I come here every weekend,” you shrug casually, smiling to yourself as you use his own words against him.
You hear him mutter something, forehead landing in the palm of his hand as he puts his tumbler down. Long fingers run through his dark hair, head still low, masking his words, but they sound a lot like curses. Jesus, fuck.
You seem to have a strange affect on him. You take pleasure in it. Right then you know you made the right choice to come here tonight. You’re not delusional. You know he’s not either. He knows this is no innocent meeting, but you play along like it is anyway.
“My friend already went home.”
He chuckles humourlessly, face back in his drink as he takes a gulp, finishing it. “I hate to tell you this, but maybe you need to think about getting better friends.”
He’s playing along too, then. The way he looks at you tells you he doesn’t believe a word you say. Not tonight anyway. It’s too much of a coincidence. You make a note of what he’s wearing. Dark pants, dark shirt. This must be usual casual attire. He looks good, but he’d probably look better bare.
“I don’t mind now that I see you’re here,” you smile, gliding your fingertips along the wooden counter.
He watches them for a moment, the dark jewel of your ring shining in the overhead lights, before his lenses travel up your arm, past your collarbone and land directly at your cleavage. He seems to be contemplating something, expression unreadable. He doesn’t seem to care you’ve noticed him, or maybe he’s given up.
Slowly his eyes make it back to your face, a half-smile appearing on his face as he holds up his empty tumblr. “Can I get you anything?”
You swallow through your surprise, feeling slightly nerved. You thought you’d have to work harder tonight, but here he is taking charge. Full of surprises your History Professor.
“Red wine,” you request.
“Red?” He repeats, looking impressed.
“Problem?”
“No,” he chuckles quietly at your tone. You don’t like it. “I just took you as a white kinda girl.”
“Woman,” you correct, wrapping a lock of hair behind your ear, “and I like red wine.”
He smirks at your attitude, the action so unlike him you find yourself crumbling. The night goes better than expected, small talk a little stunted at first. You find he talks about school too much, as if he’s unable to stop himself from keeping it professional. You don’t want to be reminded every two minutes that he’s your Professor, so you take charge. Asking him about hobbies, family, where he lives. He can’t help but ask you the same in return, and before you know it you’ve finished your second glass of wine.
You’re lightly buzzed now, unable to believe the sheer size of your luck tonight when the bartender comes up to you both. You don’t notice at first, two of you too busy lightly discussing a movie you both realised you’d see recently, and not until the man clears his throat do you look up.
“Can I get you anything else?” He asks Hoseok, who pauses to make up his mind, before shaking his head. The bartender turns to glance at you before asking Hoseok another question. “Your lady friend?”
It strikes you then, that this stranger thinks you’re together. Whether he thinks Hoseok’s paying for your company or not, he still thinks there’s something between you. Hoseok shakes his head the same time you go to answer. Agreeing surprisingly, but not for the same reasons it seems.
“It’s time to go—
“No, thanks—
You watch him stand from his seat, waiting for you to rise too, and the bartender walks away, leaving you both alone again. You giggle as you get up, leaning towards him to whisper (although, not so quietly,) “I think he thinks we’re together.”
You’re definitely not drunk, maybe slightly buzzed, but pretending to be a little half cut is helping your confidence. You’re pushing your luck, you know that, especially when you watch Hoseok take a composed breath, expression unreadable as he ignores you in favour of placing his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward. You jump a little in surprise, the smallest of touches having an affect on you.
“Let me go to the restroom and then I’ll see you home,” he mutters, sounding a little stiff.
His hand drops from you almost instantly when you nod, and he walks off. You watch him round the corner before taking it upon yourself to follow him. The restrooms are located down a little hallway; shared sinks with red walls and gold décor, two doors signalling the toilets. You wait nervously for him to appear again, willing the alcohol to travel through your veins quicker as you peer into a mirror. You need the confidence, and you pull your dress tighter around your breasts, wondering if you’re an idiot. You’re about to either make a fool of yourself or come out triumphant. You’re 50/50. Hoseok is either acting so nervy because he feels something between you too, or he feels awkward because of the situation you’ve put him in. Overthinking is your weakness, and alone like this, painfully awaiting his return, you’ve thought through a hundred and one different scenarios. Finally, he puts you out of your misery.
“____,” he murmurs, door closing behind him with a muted click. “What are you doing?”
He looks a little surprised, but quickly walks to a sink to rinse his hands. Someone leaves the Ladies toilets as you move to the side of him, and she quickly washes her hands and walks off, not paying you both any attention. Hoseok is still there, letting the warm water coat his hands, and you watch pleasantly, admiring the way his cuffs are rolled up his forearms, veins travelling all the way to his fingers. Dirty thoughts fill your mind once again, and it isn’t fair how much you want him to touch you. The small of your back burns with the memory of his palm.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” you tell him simply when he turns to dry them with a paper towel.
He chuckles, shaking his head as he throws it in the trash. “Well I do.” He’s grinning as he faces you, eyes friendly and kind to continue. “—and I’m not leaving you here.”
You’re losing your nerve. Is he just being kind to you because he thinks it’s part of his job? Does he feel sorry for you, such an obvious crush on her Professor… But there’s something else in his eyes, a glint of something you can’t place. It’s playful, relaxed, almost as if who he is to you doesn’t matter.
“We could go somewhere else?” You suggest with a cock of your head, stepping closer to him. To your surprise he steps closer too, your bodies centimetres apart.
“And where do you suggest?”
Your head begins to swim, distracted now as he doesn’t oppose to your question. Is he playing with you? Or humouring you for a moment, you can’t tell, but you want it to be real. You can’t go home and let this be the end. This is your last chance.  
“You smell nice,” you murmur, smiling up and him, and bravely you place your palms on his shoulders, fingers pressing into his flesh. Cologne cinnamon maybe. It’s addictive, and you want to smell of it too.
“Why are you pretending to be drunk?” He asks, expression amused. He sees right through you but doesn’t pull away.
“Maybe I am drunk,” you pout, breathing calmly to try and control the humming in your body.
He cocks his right eyebrow. “Do I look like the type to take advantage of a drunk woman?”
But there’s a smirk there. He doesn’t believe you. He’s playing along. He’s giving in. You lift your chin, overhead lights shining against his dark hair. It looks a little ruffled, like he’d been tugging on it in private. Frustrated maybe, confused…
“Maybe I need to pretend to give me confidence…” you whisper. Barely audible, but he hears it and it makes his breath catch.
Slowly his hands creep up to yours. You don’t dare take a breath, time standing still as he watches you with not so much as a blink. You’re slightly aware of how his fingers glide across your own, buy you’re trying to concentrate more on what he’s saying, lips moving slowly.
“And why do you need confidence?”
You’re not imagining this. This is real, and then you’re taking a deep breath, words rushing out before you place your lips on his.
“To do this—”
They’re soft and warm, better than you imagined, but no sooner do you feel them, he’s pulling away, lips brushing against yours as he murmurs your name before inevitably stepping back.
“Stop,” he shakes his head. “This is wrong.”
His gaze can’t leave you mouth though, his hands still holding yours to his shoulders. You close the distance again, fingers digging into his shoulders now, defiant. “I like you.”  
“You’re mistaken,” he chuckles humourlessly, unable to look you in the eyes.
He’s trying to fight it. You can’t let it happen. You’re so close to everything you’ve been imagining this last week. You need it to happen. You feel it so deep you can’t help but exclaim loudly, stubbornly.
“I’m not!” Then quieter, hushed as you let your hands cup his neck, feeling the hot skin under your fingertips. “Don’t you feel something too?”
He stares at you, gaze fierce, eyes dark and blown out, but when he says your name it’s a whisper. You melt, and that’s when he’s reaching for your face with his hands, holding you as he pulls you to him and kisses you.
Hunger. That’s what it feels like. He’s hungry for you. Unrelenting as he parts your mouth, tongue searching for yours eagerly, impatiently. Wet, warm, tasting like the bourbon he’d finished not fifteen minutes ago. He’s addictive, you’re addictive hopefully, as you find your back meeting the wall, his body pressed into yours. You cling to one another as if you’re both afraid it’s a mirage.  
He goes to pull away first, you can feel it, pressure waning, and your body panics, holding him tighter. “W-wait a minute,” he pants, breaking free with a soft pop, out of breath and bedraggled. “Let’s get out of here.”
Your heart flips, fresh excitement bubbling away as you nod quickly, dropping your hands. “I can’t wait any longer.” You’re aware a stranger could walk by any moment, and besides, you want to be alone with him. You need to be alone with him.
He can’t stay away from your mouth, still greedy against yours as his hands slide down your arms and find place at your hips. He groans loudly when your tongue begs for entrance once again, tip meeting his before he tangles them together, a little rougher this time, unable to stop himself when he presses his body into yours. Hunger snarls in the pit of your stomach, flesh turning hot and sensitive to every touch. He must feel the same.
“A room,” he pants, pulling away just to kiss wet splotches against your jaw. “We can get a room…”
That is how you find yourselves in a, probably overpriced, hotel room, located next to the bar. It makes sense with the knowledge of the legal seedy activities that take place there. Although this might be in another league of seedy altogether. It doesn’t feel like it though. Nothing is seedy about the way he looks at you. All you see is the mad hunger in his eyes as you attach yourself to him once more, arms dangling around his neck as he wraps his around your waist. Flush to the hardness of his body you just want to feel more. Your fingers rush for his shirt buttons, undoing a few before your hands glide down his chest, feeling the solid flesh beneath your tips, to the equally solid skin of his stomach. It flexes as your fingertips patter, and he pulls away, grip on your back tight as he finds your gaze.
“This is crazy,” he weakly astounds, eyes wide, before they narrow, expression turning characteristically serious. “Are you sure?”
You panic as you study his face, trying to read him. He doesn’t seem like he wants to change your mind, nor has he changed his, and relief washes over you. You both want this badly, you’re sure. He wants you just as much as you want him, he just hid it a little better tonight, until he couldn’t… You want him to lose his mind. You want to intoxicate him, make him unable to think straight. You want to pleasure him, hear him moan, see his body…
At that thought your hands drop to his belt. His body freezes as you loosen the clasp, the sound of clanking metal going straight between your legs. The desire you feel is beginning to cloud your mind, hands shaking, but one thing rings clear as day.
“I want you.”
The words leave your mouth as soon as a hand brushes against his crotch, length solid against his thigh. He wants you too, a sure sign, and then he’s relaxing once again, jaw slackening as you tug at his pants. You nudge him further towards the bed, the back of his legs hitting the mattress, and he sits down, silent as he watches you kneel, stripping him from the waist down. His pants pool at his ankles, shoes already kicked off when you entered the room, and he hovers once to let you rid him off his underwear, black like his trousers, waistband stretched around his thighs now.
His cock stands proud, tip flush and desperate looking, and you delve straight in, fist wrapping around the smooth skin just as your mouth encases the sensitive flesh, tongue flicking tentatively along the underside. A hand wraps in your hair immediately, entangled in the strands as you feel the pads of his fingers press into your scalp. He groans, to which it catches in his throat, and you take him deeper, desperate to hear more.
“You’re so beautiful,” you hear him utter, his other hand squeezing around the edge of the bed as he watches you with lidded eyes.
A surge of confidence washes over you, and you hollow out your cheeks, expelling the left-over air, bobbing your head as you suck, fist following, making sure there’s not a piece of untouched skin. He tastes addictive, tongue licking and curling around him, any way, any pattern, you’re just greedy. You just want him to feel good, and in return feel good yourself. Hearing him hold back noise makes your toes curl in desire, knees beginning to burn against the floor, just as your core begins to ache for him.
You take one curious glance a him, mouth full of his cock. He likes that, his breath ragged as his head falls back, a strained chuckle coming from him. Your belly does a flip at the foreign sound, it’s nothing like he usually makes. Throaty, dark, and just as you think it can’t get any better, he speaks.
“Shit, you really want to ruin me, huh.” He’s breathless, weak, pleasure riding through his veins at lightning speed.
His eyes meet yours, dark and blown out, mouth still wrapped around his cock, the flesh pulsing inside your mouth as you stop all movement. You feel his fingers curl against your scalp again, just as his other hand cups your chin, turning your head a little, like he’s admiring how pretty you look. “Up,” he whispers, and just like that you find yourself slipping away from his length, his lips back on yours as they connect and you fall to the bed.
His body’s on top of yours, mouth hungry, hands hungry, as he explores your body. You can hear his feet fumbling with his pants, kicking them off to land on the floor, shirt hanging from his shoulders, only attached by two buttons. He pulls away to watch your reaction as he slides a hand up your dress, fingers stroking the inside of your thigh. He goes no further than the edge of your underwear and and you whine, desperate for him to touch you where you crave him most, failing when you try to rub your thighs together. Your eyes flicker across his body, chest exposed, rising up and down as he pants, but he’s smirking, enjoying the affect he has on you. You reach up to try and kiss him again, needing something to dispel the frustration. To your surprise, a large hand wraps around your jaw, gently squeezing your cheeks so they puff out before he lies your head on the pillow.
“Cute,” he comments, his hand under your dress now riding up to stroke your stomach. You whine again, body on fire as he palms your skin, and when his mouth find place in the crook of your neck, you’re done for, hands entangling in his hair as he practically ravishes you; wet tongue, hot mouth sucking against the skin, cold air as he blows against the invisible trails. You’re a mess, shuddering under the sensitivity, but still desperate for more.
You get just that when you feel both his hands wrap around your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, dress riding up to expose your lace thong. He groans, hands now kneading the soft flesh determinedly. You can’t help but wriggle it a little, trying to tempt him to do more because you can now feel your arousal heavy against the fabric.
He chuckles, the sound travelling to the centre of legs. “This was your ploy, right,” he asks, and you moan, taking a moment to glee. Chasing him tonight had paid off. This is what you wanted after all.
Your breath catches as he pulls you up, ass in the air, and you quickly put your hands out, pressing your weight onto the mattress. He pushes your dress up, cold air on your back as he keeps on pushing, wanting to rid you of the garment. In a rushed fumble, he tugs you back to him, wanting you to kneel as you wrestle with the dress, freeing it over your head. He wraps an arm around your waist as you drop it to the floor, squeezing you to his body as he kisses the nape of your neck passionately, his other hand moving your hair to the side as he hums against your skin. Everywhere is hot, a loud thumping noise in your ears as your body begs for him, his bare dick between your legs, still sticky with your saliva.
“How did you get inside my head,” you hear him murmur, mouth now against the shell of your ear, tongue making you weak at the knees as you press yourself into him. “I hardly know you…”
“I know you,” you say quietly, wanting him to know you’ve been infatuated with him for a long time.
You feel him pause. It’s only for a moment, and then he’s kissing down your shoulder blade, easing you back onto the bed slowly, your hands coming out to meet the mattress once again. His hands find the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts and you shake the delicate from your wrists, flicking it to the side. His palms greedily knead the flesh, fingers pinching your hardened nipples enough to make you moan out, jutting your ass into his groin. His self control is frustrating you, needing him to touch you where you want it the most.
He gives in finally. The bare flesh of your ass against his erection too much, and you hear him rip his underwear off fully, his hands straightening you hips. You wait patiently, jumping a little when you feel two of his fingers against your clothed mound. The tiniest of pleasure already a relief.
“Already so wet just from sucking my cock,” he comments, and you can’t help but moan loudly, his words having the most embarrassing affect on you. Your arms shake with the need, fingers digging into the sheets, and your core pulses uncontrollably, desperate to be filled.
He finds your clit instead, rubbing circles against it as your knees shake, feeling your arousal grow even more, sticky sounds filling your ears. His other hand squeezes your hip, the only action keeping you sane right now, holding you in reality. The pleasure he’s giving you from such a small activity should be impossible, yet still he finds new ways of ruining you.
“Do you like me speaking like this,” he wonders, but his tone is amused. He knows the answer already. “I bet you imagined it a lot, right?”
You bury your head between your arms, hair dangling into the pillows as you groan, panting loudly. It’s like he knows your deepest desires, and the fact he’s getting off on it just ruins you even more.  You shudder when you feel the pads of his fingers fall to your entrance, rubbing the sticky lace slowly and precisely. He watches your body break a little under him, straightening your ass one more time, keeping you upright.
“What, you have nothing to say?” He teases. You can visualise perfectly how he’s raising an eyebrow while speaking. “I’m not used to you being this quiet…”
“Do something and I’ll be more vocal,” you manage to get out, teeth grit as his fingers fasten their strokes.
He laughs at that, genuinely amused, and you feel him bend over your body, the hand on your hip travelling up your stomach to one of your breasts. He squeezes the flesh, moulding it in his palm as the two fingers against your core slip under your underwear. He coats his fingertips in your wetness, brushing against your folds. You moan again, cursing under your breath when he circles your swollen opening. It pulses desperately for him and he feels it.
“Shit, I can’t wait to fuck you,” he murmurs, voice weak, affected…
“Please.” The request falls from your lips without thinking. You’d beg harder if he wanted you to. You don’t care. You just need him to fill you up, make you come. It’s all you’ve been thinking about this past week.
He takes a deep breath before leaning up again, and ever so carefully he begins to drag down your panties. Your core finally feels free once he gets them down to your thighs, and he helps you lift up a leg to ease them off. Then the other, and they’re gone. You’re naked and waiting. He gives your ass a reassuring tap as he steps away for a second. You hear him slip off his shirt and then rummage around in his pants pocket. For a condom you suspect, and you take the time to control your breathing, waiting patiently for him to return, ass still up in the air.
The mattress dips as he climbs back on, kneeling behind you. His hand shakes a little as he strokes your hip, moving closer, and you keen when you feel the head of his dick against your folds.
“Ready?” He asks gently, hand now brushing your hair to the side before his fingers drag down your spine. You nod, not trusting your voice to appear, but you gasp when he pushes inside you, bit by bit, slowly filling you up.
He removes the hand wrapped around the base of his cock when he’s fully inside you, perching both on the sides of your ass as he breathes heavily, rocking slowly inside of you just to gain his bearings, get used to the feeling, your walls pulling around him.
“You okay?” He asks, and this time you speak, your hand reaching behind you to search for one of his wrists. Locking your fingers around it, you tug, urging him to move. “Hoseok…” you whine.
He grunts, body finally giving in as he begins to rock his hips, and your drop your hand, needing to hold yourself up. “Say my name again,” he says, words slurring together, drunk off the feeling of you. You repeat it. Loudly. Over and over again as he begins to thrust inside you now, rhythm fast, each snap of his hips precise. The slap of skin fills the room, your muffled moans and gasps joining them.
“You feel so good,” he grunts, fingers digging into your flesh, holding you tight as he ploughs into you. “Fucking crazy,” he adds with a mutter, probably not realising he’s said it out loud. A reminder that you’ve both let go of your inhibitions tonight.
As he fucks you harder and harder, your hand searches for his wrist again, wanting to hold onto him. This is everything you could’ve wished for and more, but you want to be able to feel him. You want to be able to see him. You want to be greedy. You want to remember this night forever.
“H-Hoseok,” you pant, body jerking forward with every thrust. At the same time you try to twist your body around, wanting to change positions, feel his chest against yours. He slows down a little, but he’s still unable to stop cleanly. You roll to your side, letting him fuck you like that for a moment, his cock getting deeper than ever as he squeezes your visible ass cheek tightly. You can see him perfectly like this. Notice the way he grits his teeth, notice the beads of sweat that roll down his temples. Notice the way his gaze is fixated on your breasts bouncing around. Notice the way his abs flex with each urge of his hips, shoving his cock as deep as he can get, but still he tries harder. Like it can never be enough. He wants to make you cry louder.
“You like that?” He rasps, sounding a little crazed. There’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen yet. It only fuels you more. “Me fucking you? Harder?”
“Y-yes,” you cry, reaching for him. “Ho-Hoseo—please—more”
However, you’re not just asking for him to thrust harder, you want to touch him. Wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes you come. You flip onto your back with difficulty, Hoseok still snapping his hips wildly until he falls out when you stretch your leg over him, wanting him to climb on top of you. He moves instantly, sliding his cock back inside you hastily as he falls on top of your body. You wrap your arms around him, mouth searching for his, and he dips his tongue inside straight away, moaning loudly.
You’re both sweaty, bodies flush together, his hands now cupping your face as he rolls his hips into yours. The action makes his groin rub against your swollen clit, and you know, as you clench your eyes, your orgasm isn’t far away. He’s teased you for too long. You can’t hold it back. Especially with how his dick is stretching you out, pleasure making your toes curl and your back arch. He feels it.
“You gonna cum?” He pants, pulling away from your lips, veins in his neck bulbous as he presses his hands into the mattress now, holding himself up.
“Please,” you nod, body squirming under him as you chase the sensation, clit burning with the pressure. “Don’t stop—faster—
You cut yourself off, your orgasm catching you off guard as it blasts through your body with a gasp. “S-shit,” he stutters, easing the pressure off your hips as you pant, trying to catch your breath. You’re squeezing around him like no tomorrow, so much so you can feel it yourself and he manages to thrust inside you three more times before he comes, jaw slack as he lowers his head and groans, his damp hair in his face.
He slides out of you in silence, both of you talking in pants as you come back down to earth. You’re both trembling from the aftermath, exhausted, body aching but blissfully. He slides his hands to the pillows, squeezing them as he finally looks your way, and you give him a shy smile, feeling a little vulnerable now that the moment has changed. You hadn’t thought this far ahead, only imagining ways of getting him into bed.
“That was amazing,” you whisper weakly, wanting him to know, as if your body didn’t tell him already.
He smiles at you, but it’s similar to the polite one he’s already given you from time to time. His eyes are no longer black, the fire gone, instead they’re back to how they usually look. You want him to kiss you again. You want to kiss him again, but before you can reach for him he sits up, taking a pillow to hold in front of him. It feels oddly impersonal, especially after what you’ve just done together.
“Get into bed,” he tells you quietly, lifting the corner of the sheet. “May as well stay here for the night…”
You don’t say anything but listen, however worried, still finding comfort in the warmth of the bed as he places the sheet over you. “I’ll be back in minute,” he murmurs, standing up, and you nod, rolling over to your side as you hear him patter towards the ensuite.
You imagine he’s just disposing of the soiled condom and cleaning himself up, and you wait for him to come out again, telling yourself you’ll talk afterwards. There’s still things you want to tell him. Things you want to clear up, but your eyes grow heavy waiting for him, the warmth of sleep calling you name…
By the time he comes back you’re asleep, and when you wake he’s gone, unless he left the night before… There’s only a note in his place. You read with a dejected heart before anger floods you.
That was a one time thing See you in class
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Sunday drags by, and you’re just left to stew, frustration and anger morphing together, so come Monday morning you’re livid. Sitting through Hoseok’s class, watching him act as if nothing happened between the two of you just pisses you off even more. He doesn’t look your way once. No worry, no apologetic look in his eyes, just…nothing. When class ends and he doesn’t make an attempt to stop you, you realise he really doesn’t want to talk. He’s pretending. He’s truly pretending that nothing ever happened between the two of you. Pretending that he didn’t take you back to a hotel room, and that he didn’t fuck you senseless.
You won’t have it. You deserve more. Even if it’s him telling you it was a mistake in person. Letting you down face to face. Not with a scribbled two second note left on a pillow.
He’s at his desk when you walk down the steps, the last of the students trickling out through the doors. His head is buried in some papers—the project you’d worked hard on just to impress him—and you’re surprised when he speaks, not realising he’d seen you coming…  
“I’m sure you have another class to be getting to…”
You stop opposite him, crossing your arms. “So it’s like that?”
He pauses writing, red pen placed on the table as he looks up slowly, expression blank, but he cocks one eyebrow. You hate him at that very second. So collected, so unnerved, and you want to cry. It’s not a game to you, and you didn’t think it was for him either. Now you’re not so sure… You take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay strong, and carry on. “You’re just going to disregard me?”
He gives you something then. A furrow of his brows, his mouth opening a tad, but you don’t let him butt in.
“Use me, fuck me, then throw me away?”
“I did not use you.” He doesn’t like that. Finally some expression. He sounds horrified.
You swallow, confusion washing over you, and when you speak again, you sound small and sad. “That’s what it feels like.”
He sighs then, but he doesn’t sound fed up, more like sympathetic, distressed. He takes his glasses off, rubbing one eye with the palm of his hand before he places them on top his head. He looks so different here sitting before you, thinking back to Saturday night when he was half naked, dirty things falling from his mouth as he teased your body, and different again when he was finally fucking you. Now he speaks with authority and etiquette, and you hate it.
“I’m your professor, it shouldn’t have happened.”
“I don’t care.”
He sighs again, although now he just sounds frustrated. “Of course you don’t. You can’t see the potential repercussions of our—my actions,” he corrects himself.  “I should not have taken advantage of the situation—of you!”
You frown. That’s not right. “You didn’t—
“You’re my student,” he interrupts, tone unwavering.
“Barely,” you argue. “No offence, but I hate this class.”
“Stop,” he groans, letting his head fall into the palm of his hands. He sounds exhausted, and you feel stupid. Childish. “You’re stuck here, that’s the way things are.”
Is this how you wanted things to be? You don’t know what you were thinking. You don’t know what your endgame was. Sleep with Hoseok, then what? That would be it? You only want more. And you think he wants more too. He wouldn’t have slept with you if he didn’t. He wouldn’t have let it happen. However guilty he feels right now, he wouldn’t have acted with no reason. He wouldn’t have slept with you just because he could. You could tell by the way he looked at you that night. You tell yourself all this and try to make him see clearly too.
“I could be anyone,” you insist. “We met in that bar—a stranger.”
He chuckles bitterly, lifting his head up to run a hand through his dark locks. When he locks eyes with you, you notice the dark bags that hang under them. He looks exhausted, skin a little pasty, as if he’s under strain. You’re the one feeling guilty now.
“But you’re not though, are you?” He scoffs, standing up, hands pressed against the wooden table as he surveys you. “You came to that bar because you wanted me. You already knew I was there,” he continues, and you suddenly feel transparent.
“You’d already been watching me,” he whispers, regret filling his voice because you guess, he wishes he’d never given in. He wishes he’d sent you home that night, because he knew you wanted him. He sighs lightly, now busying himself as he tidies his pile of papers. “It was a mistake. A one time thing. Let’s forget it ever happened and move on.”
He’s disregarding you. He’s asking you to leave without saying the words. It’s what you wanted, right? You wanted him to say everything to you in person, whether it be good or bad. You wanted to hear it with your own ears. You deserved that much. However, you weren’t expecting it end quite like this. Call you naïve, call you stupid, but you really believed Hoseok wanted you too. You couldn’t make that kind of passion up—that kind of connection.
He has to want you. Else what was the point?
Silence grows between you, separated by his desk, a world away from Saturday night, and he looks up hesitantly, waiting for you to say something maybe. Instead, his expression turns guilty as you stay quiet. Whatever you look like right now; hurt, shocked, mad, it urges him to speak again, voice soft, sympathetic.
“Look, I wish it wasn’t like this. I wish you were just a woman I saw that first night at the bar. One I liked, one I wanted to get to know more,” he admits, and you hate it when your heart begins to pound in your chest, affected by his words. You were correct. “But you’re not. That fantasy was over as soon as I recognised you,” he continues, sounding pained. “I should never have acted on my desires. I’m sorry.”
The reality hits you like a bucket of ice. There’s nothing more you can say to that. He’s probably right, definitely right, and yet you can’t help but feel empty when you walk out of his class. Deep down you knew this would be the outcome, but you can’t help but feel some type of injustice in all this.
Hoseok wants you just as much as you want him. It’s the situation you’re both in that’s against the idea. Against you both, and you need to find a way out of it. One fantasy, one night of passion, it isn’t enough. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be. You’ve been told all your life that if you want something bad enough, you have to do whatever it takes to get it. To graduate is what that used to be. It still is. To become a therapist is the endgame. It still is. But now you’ve fallen for someone too. Hoseok. You want him. Even if it’s selfish and stupid. So, you’ll keep on chasing…
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You play it slow, and you use it to the best of your advantage. If you’re going to get something, it needs to have multiple positives. Quitting his class gives you just that. It takes work, lots of unrelenting and promises to your Dean, nearing two weeks of trying, but she finally gives in. She thinks you need this class for extra credit, but you beg her to let you find it elsewhere. You’ll go on multiple placements if you have to, work harder on projects, anything if it means you can drop History. You don’t need that mindless subject, it doesn’t mean anything, not when your major is Psychology. She finally agrees when you organise yourself a two-week placement on the mental health ward at your local hospital. She’s proud of you for taking initiative. Going out and getting what you want. You’re proud of yourself too. You’ve managed to drop that lame class for two reasons.
It’s boring, and…Hoseok. Two weeks after your throes of passion he’s not your Professor anymore. He’s nothing to do with you. You’re not in his class, and he can’t tell you how stupid you’re being because you’ve just kick started your résumé all by yourself. It’s a win win situation, and now you wait for him to come to you. If he doesn’t, then you know to leave it.
He comes straight away. The first Monday lecture missed and he’s seeking you out. He looks furious just like you suspected…
You see him striding towards you before he calls your name. You were sat leaning against the big oak tree on campus, Taehyung’s head in your lap as he told you about the Grindr date he’d been on last night. You were only listening absentmindedly, sick of lecturing him on the precautions of online dating. He never listened, so what was the point? You’re well and truly not listening when you notice Hoseok, wondering how long he’d been searching for you. By sheer luck or hard work, he prevails.
“Can I speak with you a moment?” He asks, peering down at you as he comes to a halt. He sounds strained, mad…sexy, and you nod slowly, sitting up. Taehyung lifts his head from your lap, eyeing Hoseok curiously, half annoyed he’d ruined his story-time, but he says nothing, probably laughing to himself because he thinks you’re in trouble. You stand, grabbing your bag as Hoseok spins around and starts walking away. You follow, purposely dragging your feet as you wave Taehyung goodbye, because you probably should’ve taken up acting rather than a science everyone disregards. He chuckles, lying his head on the grass now as he shouts, ‘see you later!’
You follow Hoseok a little while until he stops near a parking lot. This university has plenty, so it’s easy to choose the most deserted one. A handful of cars fill the concrete patch and not a person can be seen; class over for the day, everyone else catching up on assignments or marking.
“Who was that?”
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. It catches you off guard. Do you hear jealously in his tone? Bizarre. Especially seeing as Taehyung would very much like to jump his dick instead, not your nonexistent one…
“Is it any of your business?” You shoot, before watching him sigh quietly, dropping his briefcase to the floor as he faces away from you, visibly frustrated. But not at you. “He’s my friend,” you add quietly as an afterthought.
“Fuck,” he chuckles. Humourlessly at that, and he runs his hand through his hair, shoulders hunched. “Why am I acting like this?”
You bristle, feeling embarrassed, although you don’t get why. You feel angry too. Mad at him. “Whatever,” you mutter, “did you just call me over to—
“Why did you drop my class?”
He’s spun around now, question falling from him with such a force you take a step back. He looks angry, making you defensive. You cross your arms. “I already told you I hated it.”
“You needed this class to graduate in a few months.” His authority won’t work on you. It stopped the moment you caught him checking you out in that taxi.
“Thanks for caring, Hoseok,” you bite, “but I can get what I need with extra credit. I am graduating.”
He looks a little taken back by your attitude. You’re sure of yourself, and you think he likes it. He regards you with respect, everything you guessed he’d been planning to say halting at the tip of his tongue. You did this for yourself, but…that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be another perk… You think he knows already.
You take a step, closing the distance between your bodies, your fingertips carefully grazing his arm as you look at him through heavy eyelashes. “Maybe now we can…”
He watches you, eyes boring into yours, and for a moment you see a flicker of that fire. The fire you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the night he’d taken you. You let out a shaky exhale and sadly, that seems to knock him back to his senses.
“Stop,” he shakes his head, stepping back, your hand falling to your side.
“Why fight it?” You demand, voice raising, and you notice him looking around, panicked, searching for potential bystanders. “You want me as much as I want you,” you continue.
As much as you don’t want to chase him. As much as you want him to come to you, to decide for himself, you can’t help it. These past two weeks have driven you near to crazy, knowing once wasn’t enough. Knowing there should be more to come. You want him to quit fighting it. You want him to give in to you.
You try again. “I’m not your student anymore.”
“I’m still a Professor at this university though,” he retorts immediately.
You stop, too tired to keep trying anymore. “Fine.” Nodding your head in agreement you turn to leave. A hand wraps around your wrist, locking you in place.
“Wait,” he almost begs. It’s probably not his intention, but it happens anyway. “We need to talk this through.”
.
.
You find yourself in his car as he gives you a ride. If it’s back to your apartment he doesn’t say. Nor does he kick start conversation, despite saying you need to talk. As far as you’re concerned there’s nothing else to say. What’s done is done, you’ll get over it.
You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice him stop the car, pulling the handbrake up with haste. You look around. A rest stop. Strange place to talk you guess, but whatever. He’s probably about to lecture you on how wrong and stupid it would be to carry on your little dalliance. You turn to him, mouth open, ready to tell him to save it, and that’s when he kisses you.
It takes you by surprise, obviously. His lips pressed hard against yours, as if he’s savouring the feeling. As if he’s missed it, and in shock you push him away, needing a moment to make sense of it all. “What are you doing?”
“You’re killing me,” he groans, eyes closing as he slams his head back against the seat.
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do but—
“Kiss me again.”
The demand leaves you without much thought, knowing you don’t give a fuck about talking. Not really. Not when actions speak louder than any words he has to say. He lifts his head, eyes opening wide, your command piecing through his flesh, and then he’s on you again. This time you kiss back with the same vigour, letting the sensation overtake you. His teeth nip your bottom lip, a groan tearing at his throat and then his tongue is searching for yours.
Somehow you kiss so much you don’t remember when you get on his lap, his hands wrapped in your hair as he clutches your face to his. Your fingers unable to stop themselves from undoing a couple of his shirt buttons, loosening his tie. Dressed like this gives you an extra thrill. It shouldn’t, but you’d spent many a time in his class imagining undressing him like this. The heat between you both growing with each movement, the pressure building against you. It’s like you’re kissing away the past two weeks of frustration. However, it’s not enough.
“I want you,” he rasps against your mouth. “Fuck, I want you again.”
Your heart lurches, body burning up at the very thought. Want, it’s a dangerous thing. Addictive. Consuming. But you want it all.
“Then have me,” you whisper, breaking apart, lips wet and sticky. “No one’s stopping you.”
.
.
He drives you to his place. Apparently having sex in his car is beneath him. You don’t really blame him. You’d rather have him like this too. It feels more personal, more special. Under normal circumstances—although they can never truly be normal—you’d make a mental note to view his place more. As it would have it you are way too distracted to pay attention to anything other than his bedroom. Minimalistic; Hoseok did strike you as the type. He didn’t look the kind to hoard ornaments or other little knick-knacks. Homely though, a fur blanket draped at the end of the bed. You don’t have him to notice much else though, shirt already around your head as he fights desperate to get you naked.
Less control today, that’s what different. No holding back, maybe. He can’t stay away from your mouth for too long, connecting them at any given opportunity. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongues clashing together, back and fore, desperate to feel connected. His hands fall to your jeans, fighting with the fastening and he tugs them from your hips with such vigour you have to wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to his body as his palms roam your ass, fingers pressing into the supple flesh as he squeezes. He’s breathing hard, heart thundering inside his chest, and he directs you to his bed, sitting you on the edge as he pulls at your jeans, freeing them from you finally.
He’s back at your lips, tongue snaking out to explore your mouth some more, hands wrapping around your back to undo your bra. It’s a far cry from the lace you’d been wearing the first time, but he doesn’t seem to care, mouth travelling down your jaw line and to your neck, suckling little pressure marks before he swirls his tongue against them, making you shudder. You cling to him as he slides your bra off, warm hands cupping the soft flesh momentarily, before he’s dropping to his knees, hands now spreading your legs.
“I want to taste you,” he murmurs, locking eyes with you. Your breath catches.
You’re trembling as he begins to drag your underwear off, trying to hide it but failing miserably. He groans a little when your core is revealed to him, and you bite down on your lip, trying to curb your impatience. You wonder how wet you are already. Unable to gauge the reality because it doesn’t feel like your body is attached to your mind. You jump a little when urges you closer to the edge of the bed, cotton sliding down your left leg to pool at your foot. Your hands weave through his hair as you feel him kiss at your thigh, the soft skin of his nose and the warmth of his lips finally pushing the breath from you, your back arching a little to embrace the feeling.
“Lie back for me,” he parts his wet lips, hot breath against your core, and you obey, carefully letting your elbows press onto his mattress as you let go of his head. Your back follows, letting the comfort of his bed soothe your anticipation, but his words bring you no peace. Trembles back with a vengeance.
“I want to make you cum real good... I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” he confesses.
Your heart leaps. Knowing he’s been thinking about you these past two weeks, but also knowing what’s about to come. You moan, unable to keep it in when he begins to smother the inside of your legs in hot, wet kisses, thighs trying to clamp around his head, nerve endings already sensitive. You think you hear him whisper something along the lines of spread them and then he’s pulling them apart, mouth placing one languid kiss right against your core. You freeze, heart thudding inside chest as you wait for something else. Anything else. And then his tongue sweeps out, warm and flat, curling against your clit. Your fists clench the sheets, trying to anchor you to the bed as he moves again. Movements precise and slow, as if he’s determined to taste every bit of you, find out what makes you keen and go crazy.
He stops for a moment, sliding you up the bed further so he can kneel on it too, hands lifting your legs over his shoulders as he dips his head once more. You can’t help but bring a hand out to lace through his hair, thighs trembling as your body screams for him to taste you again. Instead, two fingers gently trace the outline of your folds, coating the tips in your arousal and his saliva. How can something feel so amazing, yet frustrating at the same time? You whine, to which it chokes in your throat when he suddenly pushes a finger inside you. You take him greedily, revelling in the way he curls and twists it inside you, exploring your body. You feel like you’re about to combust when he finally lays his tongue on you once again, encompassing your clit this time and sucking gently. You moan loudly.
“You like that?” He murmurs, thumb taking his tongue’s place for a moment as it rubs circles against your sensitive bud. You nod, unable to utter a word, but you make sure to make eye contact, finding now you’re unable to look away, watching in disbelief as he squeezes another finger inside, working them together now as he tastes you again.
He likes it too, humming into your core as he moves his tongue. He flits between slow and fast, wet muscle stroking strong lines against you before flicking furiously on your clit. He has you wriggling under his hold, toes digging into the back of his shirt as they hang over his shoulders, reminding you he’s still fully dressed as you lie bare for him. Choked moans and gasps leave you, his name struggling out from your lips, which he seems to love, fingers only moving faster inside you.
Everything’s building up, the heat in your body rising as your stomach clenches, and he can tell. Each movement he makes now more determined than the last. He makes you lose control so easily, come undone, and he seems to like that. Hissing in air as he catches his breath, just to bury his face back into your core like a man possessed. Your other hand reaches for his hair too as you cry out, expression scrunching up as you begin to hold your breath, concentrating on the pleasures he’s giving you.  
“Ahhh,” you let you weakly, trying to sit up as the you feel your orgasm painfully near. “Shit, Hoseok—don’t stop—sh-iit,” you whine, giving up as your head meets the pillow with a silent puff.
He grunts into you, tongue now sucking tightly on your pulsing clit. He can feel it surely. Feel how you throb for him, feel how your walls clench and squeeze against his fingers as his wrist snaps against you. Feel how scorching your flesh is as he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh, locking you in place as you cry out one more time, pleasure now exploding through your body as you come, dispersing outwards to land and make every nerve on your body buzz and fall warm.
You’re panting as you come down, chest rising up and down wildly as he slowly removes his fingers from your heat, kissing gently against your sensitive flesh before moving upwards, kissing trails up your pelvis and hips. One hand falls from his head, lying limp against your side, but the other stays lodged inside his locks as he makes his way up your body, tongue now lacing circles around your navel. He lets your legs drop, and you curl them around his body, clinging to him.
“You sound so pretty when you cum,” he husks, wet breath now against your breast. You let out a fresh gasp then, feeling his tongue wrap around your nipple, a hand coming out to gently squeeze your other breast. Your breathing is shallow now, orgasm finally ebbing but in its place is a fresh desire, niggling away at you, getting more furious with each flick of his tongue. You twitch under his body weight, desperate for him.
“Hoseok, please,” you croak, lowering your head to look at him. “I can’t take anymore.”
You watch him stop, meeting your eyes, before he smirks and places a kiss to your nipple. Your body keens one last time, and then more words are falling from your mouth. “Fuck me.”
Watching him strip is breathtaking. Nimble fingers undoing his shirt buttons before he lets it fall from his chest, revealing his torso again, hard muscle and golden skin. You notice his pants are stained from your arousal as he slides them off, and fresh desire curls inside you. Knowing you’ve dirtied him in some kind of way. You’re aching by the time he has his dick in his fist, walking around the bed to find a condom in his drawer. You watch unabashed as he slips it on, sliding your feet up the bed to arch your legs when he kneels on the mattress, unable to be anything but shameless as he crawls between your body. You just need him to be inside you once again.
Your eyes flutter closed as you feel him push inside you, no matter how much you want you to watch him, you are unable to, pleasure making your body glow. He fills you up nice and slow, taking it bit by bit, just like that night in the hotel. He seems to like doing that, letting your warmth seep through him. Only this time he can see your face, watch your reaction as he stretches you out full of him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he awes, a hand running down your centre, and you can’t help but let out a choked moan when his cock jerks inside your body. He likes that; rolling his hips again to make you react. You let out a loud exhale, fingers reaching to dig into the tops of his arms, needing something to hold onto.
He groans, lowering his body to gain more leverage as he thrusts, palms dropping to the pillow that holds your head. You reach for his shoulders now. “...and sexy,” he adds, unable to stop from kissing your mouth, groaning louder as he parts it, tongue coming out to meet yours. Instead, you encompass it, sucking on it gently, tasting a little bit of yourself. His cheeks are still a little sticky, and it makes your core twitch, wrapping one leg around his middle to clasp him to you, wanting to feel your bodies connected as much as they can be.
“You make my head hurt,” he murmurs once you pull back, no sooner letting your tongues now mesh together. “Do you know how much I want you? Do you understand?” He rushes, the words flowing out, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’re in my head…”
His thrusts get a little harder, moving away from your mouth to watch between your body, sound of skin slapping skin louder now, as if he’s chasing the feeling, wanting to lose himself some more. You hold onto him, feeling the muscles flex under his shoulder blades as you moan loudly.
“How could I have never noticed how intoxicating you were?” He confesses in a hush whisper, seemingly strained too, as he fights with himself. You want to speak, you want to agree, but you can’t seem to get the words out. Your heart thunders against your chest, making you unable to think properly. He makes your head hurt too, because you want him so much. Even when you have him like this, it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. You want more…
“Fuck, I just want you so bad…” he groans, face burying into your chest as he cups your head. He kisses your salted skin as his body falls into yours, hips churning circles inside of you, enjoying your warmth, and you wrap your arms around him, hands in his hair, finally finding your voice.
“You have me.”
He does. He had been the one to stay away, while you were just waiting for his return. You’re not going anywhere, and you hope he doesn’t too. Not now he’s confessed such things.
He moans—moans—a beautiful sound you never want to unhear, and then his hips are moving faster, body rising up a little just to gain some leverage, expression determined as he fucks you. You watch him with just as much intensity, taking in every alter in his face. Jaw slack, brow line furrowed, and then eventually, eyelids closing, face scrunching up as he exhales.
“Gon—na cum—sh–it.”
“Please,” you beg, wrapping your other leg around him now as you meet each of his thrusts, feeling his cock slam into you repeatedly as his end nears. “—want you to cum so bad,” you moan. You wish for a split second he was bare, so you could feel him fill you up with his seed. The only thing missing.
He gasps and splutters as he comes, hips stilling as he spurts into the latex, your walls pulsing around him, and then he groans, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder as he catches his breath. He’s wet with perspiration, and you run your fingers through his hair as he takes a moment, in the back of your mind a little scared about what’s to come… Back at the hotel he’d run off into the bathroom and then left while you were asleep. Now you were at his, would he ask you to leave abruptly? Come back to his senses and regret it?
You feel him stir, your chest still rising up and down a little as you relax, and you watch as he cups your cheeks, worry washing over you a little. However when he places a kiss on your forehead relief floods you a little. It’s tender.
“I’m not your professor anymore but we can’t tell anyone,” he murmurs, gaze serious, and you nod immediately. That would be foolish.
“I know.”
He smiles, eyes a little tired from your activities. “We’ll figure something out,” he hums, sounding lighter now, before he presses his forehead against yours, confessing more, “...but I can’t stay away from you.”
Your heart blooms inside your chest, and you reach to kiss the tip of his nose, feeling brave once you admit something that had been playing on your mind. “I want to get to know you better.”
He pulls away to grin. It lights up his face. You’ve never seen him with such a reaction. He looks a little younger, carefree, and you hug him to you, his agreement ringing in your ears like a beautiful melody.
“That sounds amazing.”
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Surprisingly—or not, because you had been drawn to Hoseok like a moth to the flame—you and he have a lot in common. It pushes the physicality of your relationship to something more, something deeper. You discuss novels and movies together, realising you’ve read or watched quite a lot of the same things already. Shockingly, seeing as he’s a Professor of a subject you dislike incredibly. He helps and supports you too, while studying and growing your résumé. It’s impossible not to fall deeper for him.
He’s your pillar of strength, someone on your level, and despite the restrictions and setbacks to your relationship, you find yourself head over heels. His occupation never plays a part in your alone time. You don’t interact at University, not that you see him often, nor does he speak to you about his job. Sometimes it aggravates you, just because you notice how sometimes stressed and strained he can get because of classes, but you’d learnt to leave it, only making him tenser when you bring up school. You learn to relieve him in other ways…
He knows your body like no other person has before. There’s never a dull moment. He makes you feel alive, and in turn you think you do the same for him. It’s hard to tell if he’s changing as a person because of you, or if he was always like this, just reserved because of his status. It’s hard to tell a lot sometimes, but you think he’s finally opening up. You let him see so much of you; opening up about your education stresses and tears, your family life, friends… You sometimes wished he’d do the same. When together he only talks about you.
That’s your only niggle. You know deep down you wish you could be a proper couple. Maybe it’s too soon, you have no clue, but your entanglement has stretched into weeks, only strengthening over time. It’s not just sexual, you know that with your whole entire heart. You crave something more with him, not even proper relationships ever feeling like this, and even though you haven’t brought it up with Hoseok, you hold onto the certainty he feels the same. The way he looks at you, holds you, laughs with you… It’s real, and your heart grows fuller every time you see one another.
You beg for graduation to come quickly.
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Although maybe you should’ve been more cautious… Wishing time away is never a great thing, especially in the end when you’re found reliving the past you so very much wanted to evolve from…
It’s starts with a fresh hope. A new hope. You’d spent the weekend at Hoseok’s apartment, other than yours, the only place you could go in fear of being found out elsewhere. The longer you’d become involved, the warier he’d become, and although you didn’t mind where you spent time with him, it was stifling as the weeks wore on. The only relief you had was between his sheets, where you could hide from your worries and seek comfort in his arms.
That’s where you’d been this morning, and Hoseok was just getting dressed as you made your way into his kitchen, looking for something to make you both for breakfast. That’s how you find the letter. You accidentally open his miscellaneous drawer instead of the one that holds his cutlery. It’s filled with paperwork, mostly letters, and you can’t help but notice the address on the one atop the pile. It’s in no envelope, so you wouldn’t have seen it otherwise, but now that you have, curiosity gets the better of you. It’s from the University in the next city.
Before you know it, you’re skimming the first line. Your eyes pick out key words. Congratulations, Mr. Jung. Offered the position. You hold your breath, feeling your heart rate slow right down, trying to make sense of it all. Is it that you don’t have to wait?
“Good morning,” you hear Hoseok beam as he makes his way into the kitchen, despite already having greeted you an hour or so ago.
You jump a little but make a split-second decision not to hide the letter back in his drawer. Maybe he’d been waiting for the right time to tell you, so instead you glee, feeling his arms wrap around your middle as he kisses the back of your head.
“Congratulations,” you grin, and you feel him freeze behind you, as if he’s confused. You turn around slowly, feeling his arms drop, and just as expected he looks mildly questioning, that is until he sees the letter in your hands and then there’s a look of panic in his eyes.
“I found it by accident,” you’re quick to explain, mistaking his reaction. “It’s great news though…your new job…”
He blinks slowly, expression now unreadable. There’s an obvious enough pause, and then he’s shaking his head, a strained laugh leaving him as he grabs the letter from your hands. “Oh, that,” he says, scrunching it up in his fist. “I’m not taking it actually…”
Your ears begin to ring, legs feeling a little unstable under you. You can’t have heard correctly, surely? You look at him, a bemused half smile on your face. “What?”
He shrugs, gaze strained a little, because he can tell something’s off. In fact, he knew it would he from the moment he saw the letter in your hand. But yet, he still tries to stay casual, as if he can breeze his way out of this.
“I’m just happy where I am,” he explains, chuckling again as he throws the paper into the trash can beside him. “I actually forgot I had the interview. It was months ago, they must’ve had someone flake on them…”
Months ago? Before you two became involved? You want to tell yourself your feelings aren’t called for… The interview was so long ago, before the night at the bar. You can’t hold that against him, but yet… This job offer is brand new. Everything has changed since then, and he’s chosen not to take it?
He notices your delayed reaction and scoffs. “Oh, come on, I don’t want to be second best.” He’s trying to joke around with you, but there’s not even a tiny part of you that can see the funny side.
“What, like I am?” You whisper instead, unable to stop yourself.
His eyes widen. “What an earth are you on about?”
His tone is sharper now, finally unable to mask his own unease, and you guess he’s getting defensive. You don’t want to have an argument. You don’t want to make an issue, or to make conflict, but it’s getting harder and harder to bite your tongue. It’s like each hope you’ve been holding onto, each reality, is slipping away from you…
“I just thought…never mind,” you stop yourself, shaking your head. You want to tell him why does it seem like you’re the one making all the sacrifices? Why do you have to wait until graduation just for your life to start playing again, because right now you feel as if you’re on pause. You’re in limbo, not knowing the truth, not knowing what Hoseok wants. Is it you? Does he want you the way you want him? Or have you been wrong this whole time?
“No, come on,” he urges, although his tone is sharp. “Tell me, what did you think?”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts, knowing the next words to come out of your mouth would change everything between you two. For better or for worse. Your betting was on the latter.
“I thought you’d take that job,” you murmur, not trusting your voice to stay strong at any other level. “We could be together properly.”
His tut tells you you’re right. “Don’t be silly,” he shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is—
“Changing jobs doesn’t change the fact I’ve been fucking one of my students.” He cuts you off immediately, the words flying from his mouth in a fury. You try again, unable to stop fighting for you both.
“I’m not—
“Do you think anyone cares about the details? They won’t.” He’s quick again, knowing exactly what you’re about to say. You’re transparent.  
It feels like your free-falling. Every hope, every thought you had pinned on this relationship was disappearing fast. It wasn’t even a relationship, not really. It wasn’t real. Hoseok still thought the same way as he did in the beginning, despite everything.  
“I just want to be with you,” you whisper. “I thought you wanted the same.”
He watches you quietly, saying nothing, and it becomes so much you have to look away, your heart heavy in your chest, jaw beginning to ache dully as you try not to cry, clenching down on your bottom teeth.
“It’s…” he begins, trailing off. He sounds sympathetic, as if he feels bad for you. It only tears at your heart even more, and then he finishes. “It’s not that simple.”
“You don’t want me.”
It’s not a question. You say it as fact, because he’s done nothing to soothe your worries. He’s just made them worse. Made you feel stupid.
“That’s not true,” he insists, closing the gap between you, and you hate the warmth he brings to your body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s not fair he can have this kind of affect on you. Not when he’s breaking your heart.
“It is!” You cry, pushing him away, and he balks at your reaction, taking a step back. A stranger to you. “You don’t want me like that. If you did, you’d take that job,” you shoot. You don’t care if you’re being difficult, melodramatic. It really feels like the truth right now. If he wanted this to be serious he’d take the job. You could be together properly then. You could be free to fall for him even deeper…than you do now? You feel like you’ve fallen deep enough already… It’s too late.
He takes a step closer again, arms out, as if he’s going to embrace you once more, and you wish he would. You wish he’d tell you everything you want to hear. About how much he wants you, about how he’d do anything to be with you without worry… However, he doesn’t close the distance. It’s as if he can’t bring himself too, not when he knows he’s about to break your heart.
“I’m happy at my job now.”
You take a deep breath, knowing the answer to your next question will be it. The reason to walk away. Despite how much you don’t want to. Despite how much you don’t think your feet will be able to carry you out the door. It will be it. There’ll be no going back.
“Can’t you just take a chance?”
It’s not just about you anymore. It’s about him too. Being with him as changed you for the better, whether it be a lie or not. He’s made you more daring, defiant…confident… You’d quit the class you hated and chased your dreams a little bit more because of him. Yes, it was because you wanted him, but that was the beauty. He made you want to take chances. To push yourself. Because of him you’d never been more determined to graduate and work harder. Because of him you’d found yourself finding work placements, building your résumé. You were ready to live your life once school was over. Just a part of you thought he’d be there with you too…
For Hoseok, it was the complete opposite. He was still the same. Not that you minded, but being with him had made you realise that he rarely took risks. He rarely did things just to feel happy, to do things for himself, even if they would better him. This new job wasn’t just about you. It was about him. This University was more prestigious. The position was better. It paid more. Why couldn’t he take a chance on anything in his life? Why was he so stagnant? And why weren’t you enough to help him…?
He doesn’t reply at all, just stares at you, expressionless. The fire in his eyes is gone, and with it is your strength and pride. You feel the tears you’d been holding back well up behind your eyes, and finally one spills, running down your cheek. It opens the dam.
“Why are you crying?” He asks gently. You can’t see him through your tears, but you feel his hand on your back, making futile attempts to soothe you. It won’t work. He’s the reason you’re sad.
“You don’t want me,” you sniff, wiping your face, wanting to stop your tears.
“Stop saying that,” he begs.
“It’s the truth—
“Maybe I just know we’re not meant to be,” he interrupts, sounding exasperated, his tone changing, as if he’s fed up with you. He shocks the tears to a halt, eyes wide as you stare at him. He moves away from you. “Look at us,” he exclaims, arms out. “What are we? Other than a seedy secret?” You go to open your mouth, wanting to prove him wrong, but you can’t bring yourself to make a sound, it chokes in your throat. He carries on though. “Don’t argue it. Don’t tell me this is anything more than fun for you, excitement.”
You reel back, mouth open in bewilderment. You can’t believe your ears. He truly believes you think like that? Can’t he tell by the way you look at him, kiss him, hold him… Can’t he tell that you—
“It’s thrilling having something forbidden, right?” He shoots.
“That’s not it at all,” you croak. “You know how much I want you. If you don’t, then you’re not the person I thought you were.”
Why is he turning this into something sordid? What could you be possibly using him for? The adrenaline rush? The sex? You want to be with him because you’ve fallen for him. You just want him. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying all this time… What he was saying too...or did he not mean it like you did?
“That won’t work on me,” he shakes his head, as if you’re trying to manipulate him. It’s not fair, you’re just trying to tell him how you feel. “This is why we would never work out,” he continues, and your heart breaks all over again. His words spill from him like he’s been holding them in for an eternity. “We’re too different. We’re in different stages in our life—it shows. You really think I can just leave my job mid semester for a new position across the city? It doesn’t work like that!”
We’re too different. It rings in your ears. Maybe you are… It makes sense. How you can both want such different things without understanding one another. You’re not meant to be. Maybe you were stupid to think otherwise.
“You’re right,” you mutter, shocking him. You can tell by the look on his face he wasn’t expecting you to agree. But then, what did he want? It’s too late whatever it was… “We won’t work out. You’re not who I thought you were.”
Unable to stop the last dig you push past him, fleeing to his bedroom where you know you left your cellphone. Your heart breaks a little at the sight of the unmade bed, where not an hour before you’d been entangled together. Sex. That’s what you just were, right? What he’d insinuated…
You escape the room to his hallway, snatching your purse off the coat rack, shoving your flats on. You can feel him watching you from his spot in the kitchen. He hasn’t moved and he doesn’t try to stop you. Not even as you open the door and bid him farewell.
“Goodbye Hoseok.”
That just makes fresh tears fall.
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You’re unable to do anything for the next few days other than cry. You skip school, telling Subin, Taehyung and anyone else who cares you have the flu. It’s stupid, and you should probably surround yourself with friends at a time like this, but then you’d just have to explain everything. Either that or pretend like everything was fine, keeping up with your secret still, and you didn’t think you could do that. So instead you go through the heartbreak by yourself.
At first you’re bitter. Hoseok doesn’t contact you at all, which only further cements that everything he said was the truth. You’re mad at him, angry he could end things so cruelly without seeing if you’re okay. Angry he strung you along this whole time, because that’s what it felt like. Nothing had changed for him. He was still dubious, still unsure when he’d agreed to carry on seeing you, and you hated he could mess with you like that. You were mad because he’d just cast you aside, made assumptions… Did he really think you were only with him for the thrill? A taste of that forbidden fruit? The truth was, that was just a thorn in your side. You weren’t with him for the excitement. You were with him for the comfort. Any excitement you felt when together was because you physically thrummed when with him. It was a warmth you’d never felt, and now it was gone.
You were mad at yourself secondly, for falling for him. Angry because you were stupid enough to keep chasing him. None of this would’ve happened if you’d just let it go. Gotten in that damn taxi with Subin that night. Somethings, you’d learnt, just weren’t worth it. Fate didn’t exist, and chance only happened because of choices. For a while, you wished you’d made a different choice.
Then came the silver lining. Looking for the good amongst the bad. Falling for Hoseok, caring for him and being with him had opened a brand new door for fresh opportunities. You’d realised this when you received a letter through the post offering you a new placement at an established mental health charity. Because you had been so adamant to quit Hoseok’s class you now had a new ambition when it came to your future, the first placement at your local hospital only the beginning. It would’ve never happened if it wasn’t for your infatuation, and then deeper along the line, his support.
Lastly came the realisation. That no matter how much you cared for him and wanted to be with him. No matter how much you missed him, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was an absurd situation, a dangerous one for the most part, especially for him. The risk was too great, and in turn there was always going to be that wedge between you both. You’d been living a lie, a reality you’d created where you were both equals. That wasn’t the case, and no new job was going to change that. It wouldn’t have mattered in the end. Hell, probably new problems would’ve arose, because it just wasn’t meant to be…
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You go back to school a week later, heart still heavy but you’d accepted the outcome. It still twisted and turned at the possibility (a very large one) of seeing Hoseok, but maybe that would work out for the best. You could talk things through, calmly and respectfully, and you could go your separate ways, hoping to make your past a pleasant memory…
The idea springs to the forefront of your mind a couple of days later when you and Taehyung walk past his office. Your heart begins to race at the very realisation you’re nearing it, wondering if he’s inside, but slowly, as you get closer, it slows down, thudding as if you’re in slow motion when you see his name is no longer attached to the door. You frown, stopping in your footsteps and it takes Taehyung a few seconds to realise you’re not behind him. He turns to watch you with confusion.
“Where’s Professor Jung?” The question falls from your lips as if you can’t help it. You don’t know if you’re talking to yourself or your friend, but he answers you anyway.
“He resigned,” he shrugs, unbothered, but your heart is kickstarted into gear. “Apparently he handed his notice in suddenly, got a better job at another college—more money, definitely.”
He took the job, you think to yourself, body gaining heat. He actually took it? You’re aware Taehyung is still speaking, although about god knows what, you don’t know. You’re not listening anymore, the wildest itch inside your body. For the first time in nearly two weeks you feel happy. It’s foreign, and maybe slightly misplaced, but it feels nice. You’re filled with the sudden urge to see him. You need to speak to Hoseok.
“I have to go,” you quickly tell Taehyung, watching him frown.
“Huh? I thought we were going out to eat?” He whines, but you shake him off with a wave of your hand, already turning around to shuffle a few steps back the way you came.
“I just remembered I have a paper due in tomorrow,” you call behind you, making up an excuse on the spot.
He laughs loudly. “Dumbo!” He shouts, and for the first time in a long time you laugh with him, before picking up your pace and starting to run.
.
.
You don’t really know where you’re going until you realise you’re at your apartment. Logic would be to call Hoseok from your phone, or just message him right there on the spot, but for some reason you feel the urge to go to your place. You can phone him there in private. You damn yourself for not taking your car today, the bus ten minutes late and it almost seems like you’re going to miss something. The anxiousness in your chest. It all makes sense when you round the corner to your apartment and see Hoseok stood by your door.
He’s a few steps back, as if he’s knocked and couldn’t get an answer, about to give up and leave, taking one last hopeful look at the door. When he finally turns to leave you’re stood a foot away in front him, hand on the rail. He jumps a little, holding his nerve before one side of his mouth raises up a little. “Hey,” he greats, subdued, watching you walk towards him. His eyes flicker around your face, as if he’s searching for any of the hurt he caused.
You steel yourself a little, not wanting it to be about you right now. He shouldn’t be here for that, he’s probably visited to tell you his news. “Want to come inside?” You ask, placing your key in the lock, but he shakes his head.
“In a minute, I just need to say this now,” he says, but you don’t think he has any intention of coming inside with you. That’s okay. You hadn’t been expecting it, only wanting to be polite. He steps forward, so you’re level with one another, and you wait for him to carry on. Your heart feels heavy and light at the same time. A strange feeling, one you think you’ll be stuck with for a long time.
“I’m sorry,” he says solemnly, unblinking as he looks at you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he doesn’t mean it. You don’t think he’d be here otherwise, and yet…you hope he’s not here for something else.
“I know,” you nod, tilting your head to the side. “Do you think it makes everything instantly better now?” Words were said that day, that even though they were exclaimed in the heat of the moment, still meant something. Even if they weren’t real, they still held a deeper meaner.
“No, of course not,” he insists, stepping closer. He goes to reach for you, but thinks better, gaze falling to your feet. “I just… I want to thank you. I took the job.”
Your heart skips a beat, already knowing the news, but hearing it from his mouth is so better. You’re happy for him. Truly happy, and you smile widely.
“Without you I wouldn’t have had the guts to resign,” he explains, a half smile on his face. “I’m always stuck in my ways, scared I guess. That’s why I didn’t want to take the new job.”
You instinctively reach to hold his hands, the warmth of his touch flooding through you. It feels like you and him were a lifetime ago, because so much has changed in these past two weeks. By the look in his eyes, he’s also been doing some thinking, and it’s safe to say you’re in the same place now. How ironic it’s the place you never dreamed of being. The place that was your worst nightmare.
“You don’t have anything to be scared of,” you murmur, smiling reassuringly.
He scoffs a little, fingers interlocking with yours. “I was also scared of being with you, losing you. I was scared of both,” he admits, and your heart falls into your lungs, hard to breathe, hard to keep strong. But you must, because it’s what you want to hear. It’s what you suspected all along.
“I’m so sorry. My apology will never be good enough. For saying all that shit back at my place. I didn’t mean any of it. I was scared.” Words flow from him freely now, as if he’s been rehearsing them in the dead of night. Rehearsing them as he fished for his scrunched up letter in his trash can. As he took the big step and accepted the new position. He’d been wanting to tell you all this since your argument.
You stay silent though, because sometimes speaking is just too goddamn hard… You know you have to stay strong, but it hurts.
“Just to let you know, it was real,” he whispers. “I wanted you. I wanted to be with you.”
“H-hoseok,” you manage to croak, his words breaking your heart.
He lets go of one of your hands, stroking a piece of hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear. He looks at you with so much love a passing person on the street would think you were just a couple having a moment. it’s a moment of course, but not a happy one, and you’ll never be a couple… “The timing was just wrong, the situation. I don’t know…” he tries, unable to piece together his thoughts, “…all of it.”
You’re wrong. It’s not a happy moment, yes, but it’s bittersweet. Good things have come from your entanglement. Not just for you now, but for him. He’d taken the chance on that new job. What you’d wanted all along. It wasn’t what you first thought. You weren’t going to be together, but it was okay. You know he’s going to do amazing, and you know this will open new doors for him. This is just the beginning, like it’s just the start for you too.
“I wish it hadn’t been,” you admit, unable to help yourself. You wish you’d met Hoseok as a stranger in that bar. You wish he wasn’t connected to you as he was already. You wish things were different, because you know Hoseok could’ve been the one for you. The love you feel for him isn’t fleeting, but he is. You know that now. Through no fault of your own, it’s temporary. You’d both been living in your own little world when together, but reality needed to seep its way in at some point.
“But you’re right,” you force yourself to smile, aware you’re tearing up. You move to let go of his hand, but he clutches at your waist, holding you to him as you giggle, feeling stupid as a tear escapes and runs down your cheek. You’re sad but your happy. It’s a strange feeling.
“Congratulations on your new job,” you smile, meaning it. “I’m happy I helped you with that.”
You’d known as soon as Taehyung had told you the news it didn’t mean your happy ending, but it meant a happy ending. You’d accepted it was over between you both that first week holed up in your apartment. But now you could both have closure. The only thing missing.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding like he’s about to cry, but he’s stronger than you, and he holds his tears at bay, running a hand down your cheek as he sweeps your sadness away.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” you tell him. Neither of you do. “Thank you for just letting me be with you. I wanted you. I really wanted you, but I know it’s not right.”
The last of your words fall into a hushed whisper, reality still aching at your throat, but you can’t help but place a kiss on his lips. You need one last goodbye. One last memory. Just to hold onto. A good one. One that presents change. He exhales softly against your mouth, and you shut your eyes tight, soaking every last bit of him up. Who knows if you will ever see him again after this. The thought squeezes at your heart.
He pulls away first, a strained but genuine smile on his face as you look up and he strokes your hair. “You’re going to do amazing,” he tells you. “You’ll graduate, get a job, life will fall into place and then you’ll realise I was just a small passing.”
What an odd way to put it, you think to yourself, but he’s correct… After all, your life will just begin after graduation. You’ll be distracted, busy, overworked perhaps, no time to think about Hoseok. New people will come into your life and then he’ll just become a memory. A secret most probably. One you only know about. One you think about from time to time. Maybe you’ll look back fondly, maybe you’ll have regrets. You’ll find out it the future. You still have so much of your life to live.
He lets you go then, his warmth leaving you. It’s cold without him, scary, but for how long? He places one last kiss to your forehead, and you close your eyes again, scared that when you open them he’ll be gone. “Goodbye Hoseok…” You whisper your farewell.
“Goodbye ____.”
You can hear him walking away, down the steps and onto the sidewalk. You can hear him leave, and there’s so many questions you want to ask him about his new job. When was he starting? Was he leaving to move to the city? Was there any chance you’d ever see him again? Even if just for a moment?
But he’s gone.
When you open your eyes again you can see his figure in the distance. You watch him until he disappears, still feeling the sensation from where he kissed your forehead. Something hits you then and there, it takes your breath away.
Were you just a passing for him? Or something more serious? He’s been living his life for longer than you. Stresses, strains, worries from his job. He has friends, he’s had past lovers, but then you came. He’d fallen for you, risked a lot for you. Too much for just a passing… In the end who would hurt more? You’d been so caught up in your own feelings, in your own emotions, that maybe a part of you had disregarded his.
He’d said things he didn’t mean. He’d acted in ways he hadn’t wanted to, and yet, he’d stayed strong for you. You think to how he had held back his tears—because to him it was all about you. He was the cause to all this, that’s what he thought. He was the end to all this. He was the one breaking your heart.
However, how did it only just occur to you that you were also the cause and end?
You had also broken something.
His heart.
And in the end, who would get over it sooner?
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Retail Headhunters - Succeed With RETAIL HEADHUNTERS In 24 Hours
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Sonal Aurora is chief and prime supporter of Executive Search Firm Mumbai. Perfman HR is extremely a chief HR Consulting Company Best Retail Headhunters Founded in Mumbai, United conditions of america. We are an imaginative and dynamic Human asset Company gaining practical experience in Talent Engagement, Learning and HR Responses.
Official Recruiters are giving a support of a charge given cash for by a private company customer can be looking for an alarmingly explicit individual with ranges of abilities one of a kind towards the customer. The customer pays a pixie huge expense, for the most part around 20 to 30% of the soonest years' wages of the situating he/she is enrolling in the interest of. The higher the compensation or potentially progressively one of a kind the area is to fill the bigger the rate expense will form into.  
Showing up are top of the line Gwen Gioia from The Bachelor season 2 and furthermore the debut period of the Bachelor Pad, Gia Allemand from Bachelor season 14 and the Bachelor Pad, Reid Rosenthal from Bachelorette season 5, and Craig Robinson from Bachelorette season 6. As much as three of them, Gioia, Robinson, and Rosenthal have long-standing associations with your case. 
Having a guide without a legend. Pick the new contract comprehends their job and precisely how anticipated experts. Tossing them into the profound end without disclosing to them how to swim won't achieve whatever else.  
At the point when can't hold as up to a meeting by you, how are they going to hold at any rate being met by their customers? Remember, they extremely can be not just conveying an administration towards the companies hunting down representatives. 
The best individuals can be watchful about whom they cut off ties comprising of. The more scaffolds an individual consumes, achieve your objectives . the bars are promotion all through their adventure of pursuing their profession milestones. 
A few people may imagine that you could simply land yourself a position enrollment specialist to carry out all responsibility for you, and is find you your fantasy work. Certainly not how works. Most importantly, enrollment specialists are not equivalent to business offices who, for the most part use individuals in non-the board jobs setting them in impermanent or stable situations. On the off chance that you're not searching for the executives job, you'll have to focus on an organization not a retail talent scouts or enlistment solidify. In any case, you will even now require with respect to very dynamic in your pursuit. Nobody should mind more on your prosperity than all alone possess. 
Long back in the karate business, I found a stunning thing. Inclined to remain open longer hours, you make more money! At the time, the average karate school opened around 2:00 p.m. what's more, shut down at 9:00 .m. I began opening my studio from 9:00 a.m. - 9:00 r.m. what's more, sufficiently certain - business developed. Afterward, I started to forward my office telephone to my home telephone we could answer it on sundays and occasion period. Beyond any doubt enough - business developed once more. Since program most likely be for everybody, Remember, however ,.on the off chance that you are determined to needing more play, more excursions maybe more individuals, at that point take consideration! We experience a daily reality such that medium-term is no longer effectively! 
At the point when are generally prepared like an expert selection representative, vocation choices open. Use a firm, be autonomous, 'part commissions' to extra selection representatives inside your system, fill in as an agreement scout, or in-house corporate enrollment specialist. Capacities learned inside program generally requires you in the network.
Author Name:- Shreya Mehta 
Address:- 104 Esplanade ave 120, 
                  Pacifica, CA
Mobile No:- +1 917-668-8461
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