#ic; the bellboy speaks

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge Is Confronted (Part 39)

The presence of a Harbinger in the City rightfully puts the Manager on edge. The call for a Global Meeting is put on ice temporarily, even though the news coming from New York begins to worsen.

John Wick - missing. The Bowery King - dethroned and presumably dead. And Winston Scott and the Hotel - in the High Table's crosshairs for daring to stand against them.

It seems Casablanca has not been spared either, though the High Table has not come for Sofia Al-azwar's head yet.

"We must be careful not to draw their attention," the Manager whispers to you one morning as you prepare the missives to be sent out. "But we can only wait so long."

You look at the missives, penned in your hand and looking like ordinary accounts and invoices. Forged, of course, to look nothing like a call for a Global Meeting. You have become very good at that, despite how long it takes you to make each one, despite the pain in your hands afterwards that makes it hard to even twitch your fingers.

"Is a distraction needed?" you ask her, still folding the letters into their envelopes.

She looks at you. At first with curiosity, then with a knowing smile. "The Monster Family."

You press aching fingers to the lip of the envelope, sealing it. "The Carta have made themselves a very tempting target." You're sure neither Toriel nor her former husband have forgotten them, least of all Sans.

"So they have," the Manager purrs, leaning close to gather the missives that you've already folded and sealed. "I think you'll find a convenient messenger to pass that message on, yes?"

A pause. You look at her dead in the eyes as you hand the last envelope to her. "If you're referring to Sans--"

She titters behind the missives, waving them to fan her face. "Why! That your mind turns immediately to him is rather interesting, my Heart~"

Oh, the urge to throw your hands in the air is great.

"But no." She spares you the indignity of such a gesture. "I think that's Mister Papyrus coming up the stairs."

What. You step away from her desk to peer out the window, reflexively standing so you wouldn't be seen from outside. Indeed, that's the Great and Terrible Papyrus taking the front steps in long, easy strides, his car being driven away by a valet. The scowl fixed upon his face doesn't look any different than usual, but there's just something in the way that he's moving that seems...out of place.

"Shall I go greet him, ma'am?"

She smiles at you. You don't like that smile. Like she knows something you don't. "You definitely should," she purrs, neatening the envelopes in her hand. "Leave these to me, my Heart. Go enjoy yourself."

What.

You narrow your eyes at her, only to have her smile innocently at you. Fine. With an incline of your head, you stride out of her office and make it down to the lobby. You'll find out soon enough.

At your counter, a receptionist is busy conversing with a scowling Papyrus.

"I'm looking for the Concierge," he growls down at your relief receptionist, who does a good job of remaining stalwart in the face of his fanged scowl.

"The Concierge is currently away, sir. If you would make yourself comfortable, I will alert the Concierge to your presence."

"No need," you say evenly as you round the corner. Papyrus seems to brighten up a little as you come into view, or as far as he can anyway, considering the way his face is permanently fixed into a glower. "Mister Papyrus, how can I help?"

Your relief receptionist slinks away the moment you give them the go ahead. You imagine dealing with an ornery Papyrus wouldn't be a fun experience.

The towering skeleton monster glares down at you, his hands folded behind his back. "I wish to speak to you."

You blink up at him.

"Alone."

You look around. For the time of day, the lobby is practically empty save for a bellboy carting some luggage around.

Papyrus sighs in aggravation. "In private," he bites out.

Well, isn't that odd. You tilt your head as best you can, considering that you're looking up at the tall man. "Certainly." The Lounge would be a good place. "If you would follow me."

The Lounge hasn't changed from the last time you led a skeleton monster here. It hasn't been that long, perhaps a few months, but it seems little in the grand scheme of things. Particularly for you, when the days seem to meld into one another.

Papyrus drifts to the other side of the room as you close the doors behind you to ensure no sound escapes. By habit alone, you move behind the counter of the little bar, hands clasped in front of your belly. "Would you like a drink, Mister Papyrus?"

The towering skeleton stops. Spins around on his heel. And bites out, "I SAW WHAT YOU DID WITH MY LAZY, GOOD FOR NOTHING BROTHER."

A blink. A slow tilt of your head. "Oh?" The memory of that night springs to mind. The smell of damp asphalt along with cherry smoke and mustard, the heavy taste of magic. A red glow bouncing off a brick wall marred by claw marks. Soft moans and a loud caterwaul, a baritone voice begging you.

Papyrus pauses for a moment. Waiting for something.

You don't give it to him.

He grits his teeth and paces like a caged tiger. "SAY SOMETHING."

Hmm. "And I saw you."

The bright crimson glow of magic engulfs Papyrus' entire angular face. In perhaps a very uncharacteristic display of emotion, Papyrus sputters and throws his head back in shock at your words. "YOU--HOW DID YOU--"

Did he not notice you looking at him at the very end? You distinctly recall turning your head to facilitate that. "Your blush was very...bright." Something else was very bright, too.

Papyrus staggers back into the wall, clutching at his chest like it were pearls. "THAT IS--" Then he coughs, clears his throat, and rallies himself. Or tries to. The blush on his face is still bright as ever. "IT IS COMPLETELY...COMPLETELY..." Oh, the blush seems to grow brighter, his eye lights going slightly fuzzy around the edges. "SALACIOUS. PERVERTED. VULGAR. UTTERLY SHAMELESS--IN A DIRTY, FILTHY ALLEY OF ALL PLACES--"

A smug smile tugs at the corner of your lips and sheer will keeps them down to a polite one instead. But the warming of your dead, even eyes cannot be missed. "And yet, you were watching for quite a while. Weren't you, Mister Papyrus?"

The little 'eep' that comes out from him shouldn't be as adorable as it is. Tall, built, menacing Papyrus turned into this outraged, scandalised man who has to lean against the wall to stop himself from...you don't really know what. But he does have his back pressed against the wall, his skeletal hand clutching at his vest.

You tilt your head to the side. "Was it not you?"

Now you've got him backed into a corner. As far as you know, Papyrus isn't the sort of man to lie. Or enjoy lying.

So he just sputters and waves his hands around. Eventually, he growls and clenches his fists, snarling, "FINE. IT WAS ME. THERE, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED?!"

Hmm, that's a battle won.

"I want to know why you stayed," you say evenly, taking a bottle of Papyrus's favourite drink from the shelf and pouring him a glass. "Why you watched."

Oh, there goes a supernova of a blush on his face again. You let forth a little chuckle and slide the glass forward, motioning with a gloved hand to the seat before you. "Mister Papyrus. Have a seat."

Like a dejected puppy, the skeleton monster pushes off the wall and stomps over to the barstool in front of you. He sits as petulantly as one could, slamming his fists on either side of the offered drink. The glower on his face is only eclipsed by the furious blush turning his skull into a red light bulb. And is that--ah, he sits too quickly for you to verify that it is indeed the beginnings of a tent in his trousers.

"Have a sip," you start, waving to the glass.

Though he glares at you, Papyrus nevertheless takes the glass in his hand and raises it to his fanged maw.

Oh, this is going to be interesting. Very interesting indeed.

[velvet-navy]

“To this very day, I remain disheartened by the fact that my guest was not permitted to dance.”

“I am certain she would have performed admirably.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Seven - Ogres Can Be Honorable Too

 We left Creekwood bright and early and drove to Sunset Valley to meet the owner of a tech start-up. Loaded with coffee, I took the time of the trip to reread my report and add a few changes that came to me during the night. Victor was berating at Goldman on the phone, and I was too busy to care what he was scolding him about.

About half an hour later, we were parking at ClawTech premises. Victor seemed to be in not such a good mood, not acting crude but barely speaking to me. Probably uncomfortable for what happened the previous night.

The CEO, Claude, was quite a character. He had this Zen vibe, wearing beads around his wrist and neck and greeting us with a namaste. After the usual ass-kissing and other pleasantries of the sort, Claude led us to the conference room to hold the meeting. An hour later, we went to the coffee room for refreshments, while the contract was being written by the legal department. I was in an energized chat with the people from the financial department at ClawTech, while Victor talked to Claude. I passed by them to grab some coffee from the coffee machine, when I heard Claude say something to Victor, not as silently as he probably hoped.

“Nice piece of ass. If I had one like her, I’d take her everywhere with me too.”

I stopped, looking at them both, my mouth hanging. Victor’s face went stone cold, anger showing, making his ears go red.

“Apologize to her immediately.” Victor’s voice, although not loud, roared in the room.

“Apologize? To your secretary?” Claude laughed, trying to look relaxed, his pale skin betraying him.

“Right now.” Victor growled between gritted teeth, his face 50 shades of scary. “Profusely.”

“I’m sorry.” Claude said, reaching for my hand. I stepped away.

“You’re a misogynist new age sad sack of shit, you know that?” I said, still not believing what I had heard. Victor grabbed me by the arm and started walking.

“The funding is off the table. Let’s go, Andrea.” He walked quickly, dragging me with him.

Claude ran after us, trying to appease Victor, but we ignored him, as we entered the car. Victor motioned the driver to take off. We sat in silence for a while.

“I want you to know that I would never condone to such a behavior.” Victor said sternly, breaking the silence.

“I know.” I said, still trying to come back from what just happened.

“No, I don’t want you to think I reacted just because you overheard him. Even if you didn’t, I would have done the same.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. You stood up for me, and you didn’t need to.” I said, touching his arm slightly. He looked at my hand. I removed it immediately, thinking that I overstepped.

We returned to our usual silence. Victor chuckled a bit.

“What?” I asked, my voice still tense from the situation.

“You called him a misogynist new age sad sack of shit. And I’m the one who’s creative with my insults.” Victor said, laughing.

“He’s an asshole.” I made a disgusted face. “I hope he chokes in all those beads.”

We both laughed, and that seemed to ease the tension.

“What else is on the schedule?” Victor asked, turning his attention to his phone.

“Nothing else, actually. Unless you have something on your mind. This was our last visit, and we still have 6 hours to our flight.” I said, checking my wrist watch.

“Check the nearest 5 star hotel, book us a suite. We’ll go have lunch and then we’ll work there until it’s time to go to the airport.” Victor said, his attention focused on his phone again.

The driver left us at a small bistro downtown, a few blocks away from the hotel we would be staying until our flight.

The bistro looked like an antique French café, with iron chairs and tables, and the walls were decorated in a Victorian style. The menu was clearly european, which was somewhat rare in those parts. Victor ordered grilled seabass and steamed vegetables, while I ordered the salmon, also with vegetables. We ate quickly and silently.

“Shall we call the driver or walk to the hotel?” Victor asked. I was surprised he did.

“Do you mind if we walk? All that driving around made me a little nauseous, I could use the fresh air.”

Victor nodded and started walking towards the hotel. I followed him.

“Thank you for these few days. For giving me a second chance.” I said earnestly.

“If I remember correctly, it was you that wanted to quit. Something about not wanting to work for a bully?” Victor said, his tone hinting a smile, although his face was neutral.

“Well, perhaps I was wrong about that.” I said, hanging my head a bit.

“Really? And what caused such a drastic change of heart?” He perked his eyebrow at me, suppressing a smile.

“You. This new side you showed me.” I averted his gaze, starting to feel uncomfortable with the conversation.

“What’s your assessment now? Who am I in your eyes?” He stopped and looked me straight in the eyes, expecting a truthful answer. Again, I avoided his gaze, saying nothing. “You are the one with the therapist mother.” He insisted. “Some of that must have rubbed on you. What’s your educated opinion about me?”

This won’t bring anything good, I thought to myself. But he did ask.

“You’re a good man. You just don’t want people to know about it. As my therapist mother would say, your hostility is a defense mechanism to prevent people to see you’re actually rather sensitive. Defense disguised as offense.”

“And what exactly led you to believe that?” Victor snarled, apparently displeased with my answer.

“The way you behaved with me. You acted like a bully, but all you wanted was for me to work hard and prove to myself I could do it. Bullies don’t do that.” I paused and Victor scoffed, but he didn’t look as angry anymore. “In any case, you can’t hold my words against me. You did ask.”

Victor watched me for a while, but said nothing. I could see countless emotions flashing in his eyes. I looked back at him, my gaze locked in his, honest and friendly.

He turned and resumed walking, and I followed him in silence.

Silence stretching forever was a common thing between me and Victor. Even though he was surprisingly opening up slowly, he still had that guarded expression most of the time. And since there were times I would be too truthful for my own benefit, I would always feel awkward when we talked, fearing I would unwillingly stick my foot in my mouth. So silence was the best option, one I would use for as long as I could.

We reached the hotel and Victor went to the lobby desk to get the key to the suite. The lobby was crowded with people in suits, probably for some convention in town. Victor came to me holding a card.

“Our suite is 704. Go and get things ready while I try to find where our car is. The driver is not answering the phone.”

I heard him but didn’t reply. I was trying to figure out what I was seeing behind one of the lobby’s large pillars.

“Did you hear me? Andrea?” Victor’s voice was impatient. Obviously he wasn’t used at people not clicking their heels for him right away.

“Red shoes…” I muttered, and started walking. Victor grabbed my arm.

“Where on earth do you think you’re going? Have you not heard a single word I said?” I could hear the anger starting to boil in his works, but overlook it.

“There’s a child there.” I said, walking straight to the pillar. There was a little girl wearing red shoes curling on the ground, her body angled behind the pillar in a way it would be very hard to notice her. She was crying. I knelt before her.

“Hey… are you lost?”

The little girl was no older than five.

“I can’t find my mommy…” She said, between sobs.

Victor left immediately, searching for help.

“It’s ok, we will help you find your mother, ok?” I comforted her.

A few minutes later, Victor arrived with the hotel manager.

“We’ll keep her in our staff room while we look for her mother.” The manager informed.

Hearing this, the girl jumped to my arms, holding me tight. I looked at Victor, pleading.

“We’ll keep her in our suite, she’s scared. Let us know when you find the mother.” Victor intervened.

Arriving at our suite, I sat with the girl on the sofa, while Victor spoke to the lobby through the suite’s phone. The girl was still pretty nervous, even though she had stopped crying, she was still shaking and sniffing. I tried to distract her.

“What’s your name sweetie?”

“Molly.” she said, her blue orbs wide open staring at me.

“Nice to meet you, Molly. My name is Andrea. And he’s Victor.” I said, and I looked at him, already sitting on the suite’s desk, typing away on his computer.

“Is he your boyfriend?” She asked, and then she whispered. “He looks mean.” Unfortunately, her whisper was loud enough for Victor to hear, turning his head in her direction.

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my boss.” And then, whispering like she did. “Don’t worry, he looks mean but he’s actually very nice.” I didn’t dare look at Victor. I could feel his eyes scorching my skull.

“Are you like the ogre in the story?” She asked him, and by that time, there was a knock on the door. Victor went to open it, and a bellboy brought a huge glass bowl full of ice cream.

“Would an ogre order you ice cream?” Victor said, making a soft smile and motioning the girl to come sit at the table. “Come. Eat before it melts.”

Molly sat on the table and grabbed the spoon, watching for Victor’s approval to start eating. After a nod from him, she dug in with gusto.

“The ogre from the story would.” She said between mouthfuls. “He looked very scary and all the other children ran from him, but all he wanted was to make a friend.”

I suppressed a laugh. Victor looked at me, then at her.

“Just eat your ice cream.” Victor scoffed, turning to his laptop. I could see a little behind the laptop, he was blushing.

Seeing Molly was busy with her ice cream, I sat and turned my laptop as well, starting to fill in the reports from this trip. After a while, I heard the girl speak to Victor again.

“I can be your friend if you need one.” She was looking at him with earnest eyes. Victor and I smiled at her candidness.

“Thank you, Molly.” He said, turning his attention towards the girl for a minute. “That is very kind of you.”

“Do you know how to make funny faces?” She asked him, her blue eyes pleading him to play along.

“Molly, would you like to draw something? Leave Victor alone so he can work?” I chimed in, fearing his friendly attitude would quickly change.

“Since I’m an ogre, I can only make mean faces. It will most likely scare you.” Victor said quickly, trying to get back to his work.

“I won't be scared. I’m a brave girl.” Molly started pulling Victor’s tie when he ignored her. “Please, please, please…”

“Ok. Very well.” Victor said, turning to her and taking his tie off her little hand. “But just this once. Then you go draw something with Andrea, agreed?” His voice was stern but his eyes said something else, filled with a sweetness I’ve never seen before. Molly nodded immediately.

“Ok, here we go… The scariest face of them all. Known to make man whimper and cry….” Victor spoke dramatically, increasing her interest.

And then the unexpected happened. Something I never thought I’d live to see. Instead of his characteristic austere expression, he puffed his cheeks and crossed his eyes, making a foolish expression. I nearly fell from my chair laughing. But Molly wasn’t pleased at all.

“That’s not a mean face at all.” She said, feeling tricked, which made me laugh even harder.

We almost didn’t hear the knock on the suite’s door with all the laughing. Ahem, my laughing. It was Molly’s mom, worried sick about her. We returned the girl to her mother and quickly said goodbye, having too much to do before our flight.

As I sat down to resume work, I was still chuckling, remembering Victor’s funny face.

“Are you still laughing?” He sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but totally failing at it. “Stop laughing already. It wasn’t that funny.”

“Come on, it was a bit funny.” I quipped. “I’m surprised, I thought you didn’t have a single funny bone in that large tower you call a body.” I teased.

“Don’t start imagining things. I was just trying to make her leave me alone.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, even though I could see a smile threatening to form on his face.

We resumed working in silence, both of us still smiling, lost in our own thoughts.

[hardyimagines]

A Weekend

Drabble!!!!

——

Day 1

The hotel was doused in white. White walls with polished, glass like texture. It wasn’t your stereotypical hotel with bright, blinding lights and a check-in counter with a line backed up out the door. This one was breathtaking. It didn’t seem like a hotel, it seemed like a luxurious tour of some historical building. The interior was beautiful, sprinkled with flowers on the spotless furniture. It smelled new, clean, refreshing. In the corner, on a long, silver table, they had refreshments. The tubs were full of ice water with a container of various fruit to plop in the liquid to add a little flavor. You licked your lips. You weren’t thirsty, but the fact that the drinks were free and evidently, as displayed on the sign, ice cold, you weaved away from your boss in order to retrieve two cups.

For the weekend, the pair of you were going to be staying at the hotel. Because business had taken the man in charge, Alfie Solomons, all the way to the other side of London, you found yourself bunking in the same hotel as him.. and because it was for work purposes, he was paying for your room. Ollie had insisted on coming, but Alfie had assured him that he would be just fine on the brief business trip without the lad. He had you. So the boy was in charge of the distillery.

“Oi,” Alfie’s deep voice seemed to echo throughout the length of the lobby. You looked over your shoulder, assuming he could only be talking to you. Adjusting the filled water cups in your palms, you sent him a look that begged for a little patience. “come on, then, haven’t got all day to get checked in, right.” Despite the fact that you, out of the kindness of your heart, had brought a water infused with orange over to him and he was being an impatient ass, you sent him a very light smile before handing the plastic cup over to him. Laying your elbows on the countertop, you smiled toward the lady seated on a rolling chair.

“Hi, we’re here for two rooms.” You informed the woman who seemed to be completely bored of talking to you already. She sent you a forced snaggle-toothed smile before reaching for a binder on the corner of the desk. Opening the thick pages, she flipped through.

“You have a reservation?” She grumbled out. Her chubby knuckles pressed against the underside of her jaw, cracking when she applied force before she lifted her hand to her glasses and nudged them back into place on the bridge of her nose.

“No, um.. I called yesterday to make sure rooms were available and I was told it would be fine. No reservation needed..” Your brows crinkled together, fingertips lightly tapping against the desk you were leaned against.

“Right, well, whoever you talked to yesterday, they clearly didn’t want to give you the bad news. We’ve been booked since last week. Only got one room left and it’s not the cheapest.”

The confusion on your face was laughable. The woman pulled her lips in and bit them, waiting for you to continue speaking.. Alfie cut in first though.

“Whatever you’ve got, we’ll fucking take it. Do you, right, have two of them available?” He grumbled out before burying his hand in the deep pocket of his jacket. “Price isn’t really any of our fucking concern, is it?” The question didn’t require an answer.

“No, sir. It’s just the one. One room, one bed, one bathroom. There’s a pullout sofa as well, bordering the wall beside the door.” She offered quietly before slamming the binder shut and pointing toward the door that led to the stairs. “Just right that way. Fourth floor.”

Alfie nodded once. Burying his hand inside his pocket, he drew out a wad of money and set down what was required for a weekend’s stay. The price made your jaw drop, but you were quick to clamp it closed and mind your own business. How Alfie spent his money was his business.. but you thought it was a bit of a waste for him to pay for somewhere so extravagant. Surely there would’ve been somewhere cheaper to go?

“Mr. Solomons.” You grasped the sleeve of his coat when he turned to walk toward the elevators. “We..” Was there even any point to insist the pair of you go elsewhere? He’d already paid. You were sure it was nonrefundable. “are going to share a room?” Slyly changing your question to one that was also on your mind, you eased your grip on his thick coat and peered up at him with an inquisitive stare.

Alfie cocked a bushy brow before ushering toward the elevators. He ran his tongue along the flesh of his pink lips before looking toward you as the pair of you walked in sync toward the lift. “I’ll take the pullout sofa.” He offered, though you could hear the reluctance in his tone. He would be stiff before morning if he slept on the, surely, uncomfortable furniture. You didn’t fuss. There was no changing the arrangements now, you’d just have to settle.

“I can take the sofa.” You told the man quietly. He extended his arm, pointer finger pressing against the button on the wall. It lit up instantly.

“Pet,” He let out an amused sigh. “Let’s, yeah, just get to the fucking room and then settle this.” He laid his palm against the middle of your back, a reassuring touch that said more than he felt like. The pair of you could stand around all day and bicker over who was going to be the better person and take the couch.

The silver doors opened with a loud clang and the bell inside the elevator dinged noisily, signaling the pair of you to climb inside. Alfie waited for you to enter first before he piled in directly after. It was a rather small elevator, not anywhere near as lavish as the main part of the hotel. The pair of you stood quietly in the tiny space, arms brushing against one another as you fidgeted.

The bellboy downstairs had already brought your luggage up to the room. Alfie had a brown, worn and torn suitcase that highly suggested that he needed a new one and you had a navy suitcase, freshly bought strictly for this trip because you hadn’t had one to begin with. Alfie also had a black case, stuffed full of important papers he’d be needing for the nights to come.

The elevator doors opened with the same clang and the same noisy bell. You stepped forward and out of the box before looking over your shoulder toward Alfie. “What was the room number?”

The man sent you a very soft frown, hardly evident. “You didn’t grab the key?” He put all the blame on you. A little ball of guilt somersaulted in his tummy. His cheeks felt hot, but because of the facial hair that coated the length of his handsome face, you couldn’t see the color that resided there. “Fuckin’ hell, lass, what did I bring you for?” You could tell he was joking.

“Ha ha, Mr. Solomons, you should’ve grabbed the key when you handed her the money.” Rolling your eyes to strengthen your point, you twisted on the heel of your shoe and set off down the hall to find the room with your luggage set in front of it. “Go get it!” You called from your position, halfway down the corridor. Alfie grumbled underneath his breath before stepping back into the elevator.

“I’m firing you after this trip.” He called back before pressing the button on the inside of the box. The doors slid shut as he leaned back against the wall. He could feel the stiffness forming in his upper leg, but he didn’t verbally noise his complaint. A little grunt here and there was the only sound that left his lips.

You smirked from your position in the hall. Allowing your fingertips to graze the length of the royal blue walls, you traced an invisible line along the white border before trailing your fingertip back up and along the blue. You carried yourself all the way to the end of the hall before folding your arms and peering down at your luggage. The window to your left overlooked part of the city, but because it was only the fourth floor, the building next door partially blocked your view. You lifted your hand to the window, wiping away the fog that blurred the glass. It was so beautiful here.

Alfie let out a sharp growl as he snatched the key away from the sarcastic woman behind the counter. Her means of playfulness didn’t draw the same reaction yours did. She was mocking him, making him feel stupid for leaving the key downstairs. You, you’d just made him feel boyish, but you’d pulled an internal grin from him and for that, he couldn’t be mad. He let out an annoyed grunt as he stepped back into the elevator. “Not fucking getting back on you, yeah, till fucking Sunday, am I.” He barked toward the elevator. Practically punching the button with the number four on it, he crossed his arms over his chest and waited to be carried up to the rightful floor.

It took a few moments, which felt like an hour to the partially irritated man. The doors opened loudly, impossible for anyone on the floor not to hear. He stepped out of the lift and his eyes instantly fell on you, perched at the end of the hall with your back to him as you admired the city. He almost smiled in admiration, but instead he directed his gaze to the rug beneath him, ogling it pointlessly as he made his way down the length of the hall and to your small form.

“Got it.” He piped up when he was only a few feet away.

“About time.” You glanced over your shoulder before extending your arm and snatching the key away from him. “Now, let me do my job and open the door for you, Mr. Solomons.” You were being cocky, sarcastic, discreetly calling him out for making you feel like your only purpose was to do simple tasks. Grab a key, fetch a key, use a key. He narrowed his eyes toward you before swiftly taking the tiny object from you.

“I can manage, pet, right, step aside.” His hand grazed your back once more, ushering you out of his way so he could use the key to unlock the door. Slipping it into the lock, he twisted it to the side before wrapping his free hand around the shiny handle. Nudging it open easily, he pushed it all the way open wide before stepping out of the way so you could enter first. You twisted around to retrieve your suitcase, but his hand curled around the handle before yours could. “I got it, pet.” He sent you a very light nod before hoisting the bag up easily. You pursed your lips before grabbing his black case instead. It was small, light, much easier for you to carry. You sent him a grateful nod before hurriedly weaving around him so you weren’t in his way.

The room was made to perfection. The nightstand was tall, gray, recently polished. It smelled like lemon and it glistened from its recent wipe down. Parallel to the nightstand was a large bed. It was wide enough to hold two people, sheet and duvet tucked in neatly. The white pillows were fluffed, residing on top of the burgundy colored blanket. It was a very pretty set up, but this suite looked like it was one for romance. Not just one for shelter. Your eyes drifted to the corner, widening at the sight of the pathetic couch. It was extremely small, entirely too tiny to fit Alfie and even though it pulled out, you could tell his feet would hang off the edge. Rubbing the side of your neck a bit shyly, you looked toward the man when he emerged. He dropped the suitcases down beside the door before straightening with a little groan of discomfort.

“You’re never going to be able to fit on that.” You ushered toward the sofa. “I’ll take it.”

Alfie’s attention was instantly drawn on you and the sofa. He lifted a slow brow, ogling the furniture before he folded his arms. “Why won’t I fucking fit? I’ve slept in worse places, pet.”

“Alfie, come on. I know how miserable you get in the morning’s and that’s after a good nights sleep. You’ll be a cranky old brute if you sleep on that pathetic little thing.” Shaking your head, you moved toward the small bench-like sofa and lowered yourself down on the stiff cushion. Alfie frowned. It was obvious the thing was poorly made. It hadn’t sunk with your weight like the one at his home did.

“Right, well, we’ll just share the fucking bed, yeah. It’s big enough for two, innit?” He looked toward the mattress before looking away from it. He didn’t mind sharing a sleeping space with you. It was innocent anyway. Just a place to get some rest. He moved toward the sofa before plopping down at your side. His widespread knees were a sturdy surface for him to rest his elbows as he began to unzip the case beside you.

“Isn’t that a bit..” You squirmed momentarily. What was the right word? You didn’t want him thinking you were disgusted by the thought of sharing a bed — but you also didn’t want him thinking you’d just climb beneath the covers with any man.

“Pet, it’s just for the weekend, innit?” His eyes fell to the paper’s as he pulled folded sheet after folded sheet out of its tucked away position. Laying the sheets out along the length of the coffee table that bordered the couch, he licked his lips before reaching beneath the neckline of his shirt and drawing out the pair of glasses attached to the chain he‘d been wearing throughout the day.

“Mh.” You nodded softly before folding your arms shyly over your stomach. Peering down at the papers to try and distract yourself from the thought of being in a bed with your boss, you bit your cheek gently before clearing your throat.

Alfie was good at distracting himself. He was eyeing the lists before him, memorizing names, scanning prices, income, debts. He was doing everything he could to distract himself from thinking about what it would be like to lay beside a woman. It had been years since he’d shared a bed with one — and the last one he’d been with had worked at a brothel. He didn’t have time for relationships. He didn’t have time to love on a woman and it killed him. He wanted to be a husband, a dad, a grandpa one day. But he was all on his own and because of his line of work, he was sure it would stay that way.

You bit your bottom lip gently, attempting to ignore the repetitive thoughts that flooded your brain. You certainly didn’t mind sharing a bed. But now you were beginning to wonder if he was a cuddler. Would you mind if he was? Nothing had ever happened between the pair of you that ever forced you to get close and you feared, if you got too close, you’d have to address the little bubble of warmth that formed in your stomach when he was near. Alfie was very handsome. He was very kind to you. He joked around, played and toyed with you throughout the long workdays. Everyone at the distillery was positive something was happening between the two of you — but Alfie had never done anything relatively suggestive or flirty that you’d picked up on. You felt like you were just a young girl in his eyes. One he paid to help him out. Your eyes moved toward him, small hand reaching for the paper he pinched in his hand. Purposefully allowing your fingers to graze, you pulled the sheet toward yourself and ogled the words that stained the length of the page.

“Can you calculate that?” He ushered. “How much money we’ve brought in this month? You’re way fucking better with the numbers stuff than I am, pet.” The man licked the tip of his finger before beginning to flip through the thick mass of papers. You didn’t verbally respond, a nod of the head was all he recieved before you slumped back against the rigid cushions and began to mentally add, multiply, subtract, and calculate how much the man had made in profit over the last month.

The clock in the corner read 11 PM. It was late. The stars were bright, shimmering in the dark sky above. They twinkled alongside the moon, no comparison to the bright orb that resided in the center, but still just as beautiful. An audible yawn left your lips, mouth opening wide as you let free the sleepy sound. Alfie briefly looked in your direction, eyeing the way your eyes seemed to droop in the slightest. You shuffled on the seat before drawing your bare feet up and on to the cushion.

Alfie looked toward the rest of the papers, ones that he could tend to. His mind was beginning to roam though, to the very questions you’d been asking yourself earlier, alongside ones of his own. What if it wasnt so innocent sleeping in the same bed? He’d heard all the rumors and the gossip that spread like a wildfire throughout the distillery. Every man in the workplace was positive Alfie was sleeping with you. He wasn’t. He glanced toward you for a millisecond. Alfie didn’t enjoy quick hook ups. He was actually quite emotional and he preferred to be invested before he slept with someone. Unless it was a visit to the brothel. But you, you meant something to him. He didn’t fully understand what. But the thought of speaking about you like someone he could use and then just throw away — that made him feel sick.

Alfie craved to find his special someone, but he’d learned by now that it probably just wasn’t meant to be. Some people died single. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Finding that special person wasn’t about appearance, Alfie realized. He didn’t like a woman because of her looks. If that was the case, he would’ve married a harlot from the brothel down the road. It was about personality, being able to draw a smile and a laugh from him. Being able to mirror his sense of humor — understand it, crack similar jokes. He was allowed to toy with you because he knew you wouldn’t take anything seriously. He confided in you, trusted you with important secrets involving business that he wouldn’t even tell Ollie. The pair of you spent every day together, forced to share the small office that had initially just been his. Now it was yours too. He wasn’t complaining. You never got in his way. You never distracted him.. he tended to be the one to strike up a conversation and because he babbled and found it impossible to hold one topic of interest, he’d bounce from talking about business to holidays to vacations to women and finally sex. Everything between the two of you seemed so raw, so real. It wasn’t like your old jobs had been, you’d informed him after a month of working for him. You spoke in monotone at other places, uninterested about what your co-workers had had for dinner or if they’d enjoyed their walk home. But Alfie, you asked him imposing, prying questions without a care in the world. He wasn’t just your boss, he supposed, he was actually your friend. And he realized then that it was you he was considering in place of his lover. He crinkled his nose. He’d never thought about you like that before. You’d just been his pretty assistant who made him laugh.

“Here you go.” You smiled. Looking toward the round, ticking clock that hung on the wall, crooked, you studied the minute hand as it brushed past the 8. It was 11:45.

Alfie took the papers from you gratefully, sending you a small smile of appreciation before he scanned the length of the page, hunting for the amount of money he’d made. A little smile graced your lips as you watched his pretty blue gaze run south along the sheet of paper.

“Fucking miracle worker, you are. Don’t know what I’d fucking do without you, pet.” The man’s thick fingers wove through his beard, tugging lightly on the strands of hair before he straightened his back and noisily pushed himself up from the sofa.

“Suppose you’d have to find someone else who’s good with numbers.” You murmured before following his action. Standing from the couch, you moved around his body and toward the suitcase on the floor. Unzipping it, you watched the little clip as it ran along the zip. The case popped open and your eyes latched on to your belongings, shoved messily into the crate just so you could travel.

“Ah, you’re much more than a fucking calculator.” He assured you before moving toward the bed. Lowering himself down on the comfortable mattress, he dropped down on his back, allowing his head to settle on the mountain of pillows. He slyly reached up to remove his crooked tophat before tossing it onto the armchair that bordered the wall to his right. “You’re very important to me, pet. A necessity, if you will. Don’t think I could properly fucking run my business without your help.” His eyes fluttered shut, body growing heavier as he relaxed. You sent him a soft smile before lifting the nightgown from your suitcase. The pink, silky material was soft in your palm as you clutched it in your hand. Making your way to the bathroom, you let out a soft hum before vanishing inside.

The curtains in the corner were drawn to a close. The blinds shielded the outside world from looking in on boss and employee.

The bathroom was very nice. Expensive. The sink was a wide looking bowl, blue with a silver drain. You brushed your fingertips along the length of it before turning on the water. Wash your hands, brush your teeth, use the restroom, change your clothes.

Alfie found himself incapable of even pretending to go to sleep. He wanted to be awake when you climbed into bed. He wanted to warn you that he had a tendency to roll around a lot. He looked toward your side of the bed. He was quite big so he had more space which didn’t leave you with a lot. He tried to shuffle around and create just a little more room, but the door from the bathroom opened and you piled out with your hair drawn up into a messy bun and your cheeks lifted with your soft smile. Adjusting the thin straps of your nightgown, you made your way toward the bed before climbing on to the bouncy surface.

“Much comfier than the sofa.” You pointed out before lowering yourself down at his side. Inhaling deeply, your arm brushed against his, cheeks warming in the slightest because of the unavoidable touch.

“Mh.” He grunted in agreement. His head craned to the side, blue eyes drifting along your features before he wrapped his hand in the duvet and dragged it up and along his form.

“You’re not changing out of your work clothes?” You inquired before rolling in the slightest to get comfortable. You found, when your head brushed his arm accidentally, that he was probably the most comfortable pillow here. Alfie shook his head in the slightest. He typically just slept in his underwear, he didn’t have pajamas. And he didn’t think it polite to sleep so scantily clad around you so he figured he’d just stay in his tight slacks and button down. Blinking slowly, you nodded once before settling down.

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. Your arms rubbed against each other and your head had a hard time remaining upright. Everytime you’d doze off, it would roll to the side to land against his shoulder. After four times of trying to prevent it from happening, you just let yourself be. Curling up beneath the blanket, you placed your head on his inviting arm. He glanced toward your head, corners of his lips twitching upward before he licked his lips and reached for the light switch by the bed. His lengthy arm assisted him, finger curling around the switch to tug it south and blanket the two of you in the darkness. You found it easier to get closer when you couldn’t see him. Rotating on to your side, you kept your head on his arm, small fingers making their way to reside on his belly.

It was silent. The only thing audible was your quiet breaths alongside his. Neither of you wanted to go to sleep, too anxious to see if the other would initiate a cuddle or some sort of further affection. Your eyelashes fluttered, leg pushing just a little closer to his own. Alfie bit his cheek. He didn’t have the guts to initiate anything with you, not until he understood where your feelings lied. Hell, he didn’t even really know where his did.

Day 2

The day was spent doing the same old boring work. You were laid out on the bed and Alfie was perched on the sofa, hunched over so he could use the coffee table as a desk. You participated in occasional conversation but for the most part, it was quiet throughout the day. It was only around 7 that night when you moved to sit with him on the couch and he ordered some dinner.

The trayful of food sat on top of the sheets of paper was full of various different things to eat. Alfie was telling you about a story from when he was in school, fingers wrapped around his spoon as he angled it this way and that, subconscious movements as he opened up to you.

“Wasn’t the best fucking time of my life, I’ll tell you that much, right, I was actually a bit of a nerd, yeah.” Alfie laid the spoon in the bowl of vegetables, absentmindedly pushing them around. “Was actually bullied for a bit.” He murmured. You weren’t sure if he’d meant to say that aloud, but because he had, you didn’t hesitate to urge him to continue.

“Bullied, by who?” A little frown made its way on to your face before you watched the way he lifted the spoon to his lips.

“Ah, that’s not fucking important, is it.” He whispered.

“Guess not.” You told him softly. You supposed there wasn’t anything to do about it now, but you were still curious.

“Right, pet, I think I’m gonna get my hands on the fucking alcohol they provided us with, yeah.” He ushered toward the little box of various bottles. Alfie rose up from the couch and moved toward the box. Lifting it swiftly, he clutched the rather heavy container against him and made his way over to the sofa once more. Plopping down on the cushion, he held the alcohol in his lap before looking toward you. “Ladies first.”

—

“Alfie, come on.” You slurred drunkenly. The empty bottle of beer you cradled was bound to get broken as you crawled along the carpet toward your boss. The man was seated on the floor with his back resting against the coffee table. He adjusted his crossed legs before shaking his head in the slightest.

“Pet, won’t fucking be too much of a surprise what’s gonna happen, will it?” He slurred just as much. His hand lifted to his beard, fingers pinching and pulling at the strands as he watched you place the beer bottle in the center. Your fingertips brushed along the rim of the bottle, gliding along the length of it before you smiled at the bloke.

“S’not like it’s gonna land right on you, Alfie, there’s a hundred different directions,” You hiccuped. “it could go.”

Alfie cocked a brow. “Who’re you gonna kiss, right, if it fucking lands to the left or right of me?”

You bit your cheek softly. “Stop making me think about all the rules and let’s just play.” You sighed breathily before grabbing ahold of the bottle. Spinning it, you shrunk back on your knees and watched the bottle rotate.

Alfie was doing the exact same thing. His arms folded across his chest, eyes glued to the glass before drifting up to you. You were nibbling on your bottom lip in anticipation, little bounce now and then leaving your form as you rocked impatiently on your knees. The bottle came to a stop, directed toward the wall.

“Now what?” Alfie grunted lightly.

“Now you spin.” You told the man quietly before placing your hands on your knees and adjusting so you were instead sat on your bum.

“Pet, it’s just gonna keep fucking avoiding me, then avoiding you. What’re we doing? Spinning the fucker until it points at one of us?”

“No, I spin three times and you spin three times. If it doesn’t point to one of us by then.. then game over.” Alfie watched you as you pursed your lips. His head shook in the slightest. He was in no shape to rack his brain for answers. He just went along with whatever you said. Coherent thoughts weren’t exactly easy for either of you to form.

You spun the bottle three times. A look of disappointment was stained on your face as you were out of turns and there had been no kissing.

It was Alfie’s last spin. His hand was on the bottle, gripping it securely as he pondered how hard he needed to spin the bottle in order to get it to land on you. He couldn’t help the sudden want he felt bubbling to life in his belly. He’d been hoping silently for the last five spins that it would land on one of you. Rotating his wrist in the slightest, he gave it a firm spin. So far, no luck.

Neither of you were breathing. Your eyes had doubled in size and Alfie’s were moving between you and the bottle. It seemed like it was spinning endlessly with no intention of ever stopping. But eventually it would slow and then it would stop and whatever it pointed to would determine whether or not Alfie would kiss you. It took what seemed like an hour for the bottle to come to a stop — and when it did, the rim was directed toward your suddenly beaming form. Directly aimed at the center of your body. No mistake. You straightened before looking toward the man challengingly.

“Your move, Solomons.” You whispered breathily.

Alfie let out a hoarse grunt before slowly pushing himself up and off of his ass. Kneeling up, he let his body adjust to the new position, stiff muscles coming to life. “Right, come here, then.” Your brows lifted with his demand. If you didn’t want to kiss him so bad in this stupid drunk state, you wouldn’t have obeyed. Being drunk made all your feelings so much easier to read. If ‘sober you’ asked yourself ‘do you want to kiss alfie’ you’d think of a million ways to say no before inevitably coming to the conclusion that you did. ‘Drunk you’ crawled toward the man with no hesitation. Your hands were slow as they brushed along the length of the carpet, stroking and caressing the length of it as you moved all the way forward. Crawling over the bottle, you came to a stop when you were sat directly in front of him. He’d switched his position so he was sat, once again, on his bum, but this time with his legs spread. Lifting your hands so that you could set them on his thighs, you slid forward even more, halting when you were between his legs and could no longer move.

“Your move again.” You informed him with a lazy smile.

“What made you, yeah, want to play this fucking game? You could’ve picked anything.” His hand lifted to your cheeks. Placing his thick fingers on your soft skin, his thumb moved along your right cheek, the remainder of his fingers residing on your left.

“I don’t really have to answer that question, do I, Alfie?” Leaning into him in the slightest so your hot breaths mixed all the more, you stuck your lower lip out and ensured your pout was visible.

“Yeah, pet, you fucking do.” He wanted to hear you admit that you wanted to kiss him. His eyes moved along your features, admiring each and every one. From your smooth skin to your wide, emotional eyes. Short lashes, evident cheekbones.

“Been thinking,” You started before slowly settling down between his thighs. “what those feel like.” Your fingers lifted to his face, tender and delicate as your thumb traced the length of his pink lips. “Been thinking about that since I met you.”

Alfie almost smiled. His free hand lifted to your lower back, tracing it absentmindedly before his hand moved up and along your spine. “Bet it feels no different than any other man who’s kissed you.”

“You’re not just any other man though, Alfie.” You murmured. Lifting your legs so that you could slide even closer, you opened them, straddling his thighs so you could lower yourself down on his lap.

“Pet.” He tried to halt you from speaking any further. He didn’t want you spilling all your feelings when you were drunk. It didn’t feel right. You should be able to tell him when you’re sober. “Hang on, right, lets..”

“Alfie, please.” You lifted your hands to his shoulders. Gripping him securely, you slumped. “I can’t tell you none of this any other time. I don’t feel like you.. would return the feelings.” Your thick swallow told him you were beginning to feel nervous.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” He whispered. “I wouldn’t have played some silly game just to get a kiss from you if I didn’t...” He stiffened. Why was it so easy to realize what you felt when you were drunk?

Your cheeks lifted with your smile before you slowly leaned in to him and hid your face against the side of his neck. Embracing him, you whimpered out quietly against his throat.

“Remember this morning..” you whispered. “when I was locked in your arms and you were apologizing because you didn’t know how we’d ended up like that?”

Alfie lifted his brows. Course he remembered. You were locked in his arms like he was trying to protect the rest of the world from even seeing you. He swore he’d been crushing you, but you hadn’t complained. “Course I do.”

“I’ve never felt so safe.. never in all my life.” A little bubble of nerves formed in your tummy. “I think I’d like it if you’d.. held me like that again tonight.”

Alfie nodded his head slowly before drawing you in just a little closer. He’d felt safe too, knowing exactly where you were. It felt so comforting to be able to protect and hold someone he cherished so close. “Whatever you want, pet.” He tipped his head down so he could look at you and when he did, you drew back to do the same. Your hand lifted to his face.

“You still haven’t kissed me.” You pointed out. The room felt hot suddenly, making you feel nervous — curious. Had the alcohol worn off already or was it starting to?

The man let out a quiet chuckle. His hands lifted to your arms, gliding along your hot skin. His rings felt cool against your flesh, but because of how bashful and hot you were beginning to feel, it was welcomed. The man let his eyes drop from your gaze to your mouth. It had been a long time since he’d kissed a woman. “Come here.” He whispered almost inaudibly. You tightened your arms around his shoulders before obeying instantly. Leaning in so that your mouth was inches from his own, you let your nose graze his, lips twitching upward and heart thumping noisily. Alfie leaned in without hesitation and very lazily allowed his mouth to skim your own. It was gentle, almost impossible to feel.

You’d seen Alfie when he was a big, mean, shouting bear of a man. Overpowering and terrifying as he let his anger out on every bloke in his way. This didn’t even seem like the same man. Moving your hand to his cheek, you cupped it sweetly, free hand resting against the base of his neck. Holding him against you, you pressed your mouth against his firmly, sighing out in relief at the touch you’d been waiting for. Alfie turned his head to the side in the slightest, allowing your mouths to connect even better. A little whimper escaped you — a sound you hadn’t even felt building up. He almost smiled against your lips.

The kiss was slow. It was careful. It felt like you were kissing a broken shard of glass, careful not to cut yourself. He was tender too, much softer than he’d ever been with any other woman. His lips parted against your own and you’d silently wondered if he was trying to get a good breath of air or if he was merely offering to deepen the kiss. You went ahead and deepened it. Opening your mouth against his scruffy bordered one, you couldn’t help but giggle when your teeth clashed. The kiss was clumsy and new and it left you feeling lightheaded.

His tongue pushed past your lips first, eager to brush along your own. His was demanding, curious, prying as it brushed along the inside of your mouth. You bit it playfully before sucking on the pink muscle. Moaning out breathily, you trapped his tongue between your lips before releasing it only so that you could use your own tongue to battle his. Lifting your fingers to his thick strands of hair, you played with the mass of locks at the back of his head. Stroking, tugging, and massaging, you didn’t stop until the kiss had come to a close.

Your lips were swollen visibly and his, you were sure, were no better. He had a thick beard to hide his plump mouth though so you were left to make assumptions. Leaning forward, you stole one more soft kiss before standing from his lap. Your legs felt heavy. Your stomach felt light. You were floating because of the kiss and exhausted because of the alcohol you’d drank. Your hand blindly extended, reaching for his own.

“Let’s go to bed.” You whispered pleadingly. He sensed, in your desperate tone, that you had little intentions to sleep and major intentions to make out. He was up and off of his feet quicker than you’d ever seen him move. He’d barely managed to turn out the light switch before you’d lugged him down and on top of your small form, blanketed beneath him as your mouths searched for each other in the dark.

Day 3

It was your last day in the hotel.

The clock in the corner read 10 AM when you rolled over to peer at it. Beneath the bright rays that managed to shine through the closed curtains, you clenched your eyes shut and let out a sleepy yawn. Stretching as best as you could while locked in your boss’s arms, you inhaled deeply before shifting on the mattress. “Alfie?” You spoke softly. Laying your fingertips on his wrist, you delicately began to caress his warm skin. “Alfieeee? Come on, you’ve got to get ready. It’s 10.”

The man let out a soft hum, a sound that told you he wasn’t ready to wake just yet. His arms tightened around your body, stomach molding against your back just a little firmer. He was the big spoon and had been since three AM.

You’d made out with him until 2 and then, when you felt yourself sobering up, you’d began to converse with him about every little thing. The pair of you had talked until 5, wrapped around each other as you confessed to your feelings — which surprised the both of you, and exchanged half-asleep kisses. He’d had his hand on your stomach, absentmindedly caressing it as you traced his knuckles. It became very clear in those few hours where the two of you stood.

Alfie lifted himself up on to his elbow and hunched over your small form so he could press his lips against your cheek. His mouth lingered in place on your skin, a soft touch which you leaned into. “I’m going for a shower.” He grumbled out against your skin before sitting up. Brushing his fingers through his messy locks, he slid out of bed. His shirt was gone, leaving you with a beautiful view of his toned back, but he was still in his trousers. You sleepily let out a mumble he couldn’t exactly understand, but he assumed you were just saying something along the lines of ‘okay’.

Today was a big day. Alfie had a very important meeting with a chap named Albert Jones and he was quite nervous about it. It was because of the man that the two of you had to travel all the way to the other side of London on such short notice and be here for the weekend. You couldn’t have come any sooner or the journey would’ve taken too long.

Climbing out of bed, you pushed the crumbled blanket off of your body and set your bare feet on the carpet. Standing, your arms outsretched, extending high above you so you could stretch thoroughly. Whimpering breathily, you clenched your hands into tight fists before releasing them. Moving around the mattress, you made your way to the suitcase in the corner, already opened with all your dresses on display. You crouched down in front of the case, fingers pinching the sleeves of each dress, drawing them to the side so you could rummage through what you’d packed.

Inhaling deeply, you drew out a blue dress. It was a snug-fitting one, navy-colored and beautiful. It was one of your favorites. The neckline was a bit lower than you were use to, but you didn’t mind. Drawing it out, you tossed it on to the bed before drawing your bottom lip in. It was probably wise to wait until Alfie was finished with his shower and just change in the bathroom, but instead you rolled the sleeves of your nightgown down and off of your shoulders. Rolling the material down and off of your body, you stepped out of the material and lifted the dress from its sprawled position. Rolling it over your body, you slipped your arms into the lacy sleeves before lowering your hands to the ties dangling at your sides. Gripping them securely, you tied the material tightly around your body, eyes dropping instantly to your cleavage as the dress applied a lot of pressure to your breasts.

Alfie emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets racing along his skin. He froze in place at the sight of you and you did the exact same. Gasping sharply at how good he looked, you didn’t shy away from allowing your gaze to run along the length of his tight, muscular chest, down to the ridge of the towel. Smirking inwardly, you folded your arms over your chest, furthering his view of your cleavage. Alfie swallowed audibly before adjusting his hold on the towel. He bunched the corner of it up and cradled it in his fist to prevent it from falling.

“You look..” He spoke softly, unsure of what word was worthy enough to describe you. “absolutely breathtaking, pet.” His brows furrowed. He wasn’t sure if that was a good line, but the smile that graced your lips was one that made his chest feel tight with happiness.

“So do you. I’d wear that to the meeting, I think Albert would love it.” You teased. Brushing your fingertips along the front of your dress, you stepped to the side before lowering yourself down on the bed. Alfie wasn’t exactly staring at your breasts, but you caught his gaze flicker toward them every now and then. He clenched his jaw and did his best to hold your gaze or simply admire your attire, but his eyes always came back to your chest.

Lifting your hands to your front, you bit your bottom lip. You didn’t have the biggest breasts, so you knew he wasn’t ogling them for that reason. A little part of you wondered if he was disappointed, if the other dresses you wore were misleading. But Alfie blushed deeply when your eyes met again.

“Sorry, pet, I don’t mean to fucking gawk, yeah, being a bit of a cunt, aren’t I?” He shook his head before moving toward the brown suitcase. Opening the heavy lid, he drew out some underwear and then a matching suit. You smiled slowly before watching as he then sorted through his button downs.

“I don’t mind you looking.” You told him quietly, shyly. But you were being honest. You’d laid awake with him for hours the previous night, confessing to one another that you’d love for this relationship to go somewhere. Neither of you wanted to just fool around. “Besides,” you stood from the bed. “we’re... sort’ve together, aren’t we?” He sensed you wanted to merely claim that you were dating, but you felt unsure. The man bobbed his head before crossing the short distance between the suitcase and the bed. He left wet footprints on the carpet, halting in front of you long enough for the droplets to fall and stain the rug further. Leaning in so his mouth could brush your own, he kissed you very softly, almost too softly before he drew back and adjusted his clothing. It was going to get wrinkled if he didn’t get dressed. Sucking your lips in, you savored the feel of his mouth against your own, watching as he spun around and vanished into the bathroom. He was so attractive it hurt you physically.

Shaking your head in mild annoyance because you were positive you didn’t have the same affect over him, you waited patiently for Alfie to emerge from the bathroom, dressed down in his black trousers and white button down. He did so within five minutes. Every part of him was covered. Black shoes, black socks, black trousers, black suspenders, white shirt, black coat, black top hat, and finally silver rings. Lighting up, you stood from the bed before wasting no time at all. Approaching the handsome bloke, you placed your hands on his strong chest and nodded in approval.

“You look very handsome, Mr. Solomons.” You whispered before stealing a very quick kiss. “Albert’s going to love you.”

Alfie crossed his fingers. If Albert Jones was interested in purchasing some of his alcohol, his business would be completely taken care of. He wouldn’t care if anyone else apart from the man bought it. Albert Jones could make Alfie very, very rich. Not that he didn’t have money already, but, he could have a lot more.

Lowering your hand to his own, you gripped it securely before guiding him toward the door. Opening it with a quiet grunt because it was actually quite heavy, you returned your hand to his own and made your way down the hall to the elevator.

Here goes nothing... Alfie thought to himself.

—

Albert Jones was small. Smaller than you. He stood at no more than 4’11. He had graying black hair that made him look like a vampire. He was pale and his teeth were missing. He was definitely wearing dentures because when he spoke, they almost came out. He was dressed down in a mismatching yellow and orange suit, but for some reason — it worked. It fit his personality. The man was an absolute nut case, but he was rich and he seemed to like Alfie.

“Fuckin hell.” Alfie barked with laughter before shuffling in the shuffling in the chair that was almost too small for him. The tan seat was comfortable that you were perched on, but Alfie kept squirming. His ass didn’t fit on the full seat. Smiling to yourself to keep from giggling aloud, you placed your hand on his shoulder and gently began to knead it.

“Everything alright?” Albert spoke up. His pen hovered above the signature line, everything already totaled. He’d ordered more than 20 barrels of liquor and Alfie felt beyond grateful.

“Ah, yeah, mate. Got a bad back, right, sciatica, it’s a bitch, innit, makes it hard on me to get fucking comfortable sometimes.” He explained before stilling in the hard chair. You tipped your head to the side, ogling him as he lazily began to knead his upper thigh. It was growing to be quite sore and you’d seen him rub and massage as much as possible.. it didn’t bring too much relief.

“Well, I’ll make this quick then.” Albert assured Alfie before gliding the tip of the pen along the page. Signing his name in cursive to provide the man with the approval of non-refundable alcohol, he handed the paper back to your boss. Alfie folded the sheet up and tucked it away insidd his deep pocket. “Thanks for comin’ all the way down here to speak to me in person, Alfie. You’re the first. Definitely don’t think I’ve made a mistake ordering from you.” He sneered.

You hadn’t said much during the meeting. But your job wasn’t to talk — luckily, it was just to make note of what was spoken about. You sent Albert a soft smile before looking toward Alfie when he looked toward you. He ushered toward the door with a bob of his head before waiting for you to gather your pens and paper. Following along behind you to the door, his eyes moved along the cement outside — momentarily lost in his thoughts. He was faraway, but his hand found yours halfway to the car. His touch was gentle, soft, uncharacteristically him. But it felt so nice, so unexpected, and you could tell he was forcing himself to be very careful with you.

“He was nice.” You commented before looking up at the bushy-bearded bloke. “Gonna make business a hell of a lot better too.”

Alfie nodded softly before sending you a slow smile. He wasn’t sure if he was more happy that Albert had agreed to purchase liquor or if it was because the two of you were basically a couple now. “Got that right, pet.” He uttered. “I say we stay one more night here, yeah, just one more. In the suite?”

You found no temptation to turn down his offer. What was the rush in going back? He could very well act different at the distillery — and you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him at home. Bobbing your head along to his quiet question, you locked your hand around his arm and peered up at him. He felt your stare before he noticed it, but once he had, he turned his head to the side and leaned down so your mouths could lock momentarily. He praised whoever was listening, for the fact that you’d wanted to play spin the bottle last night. For if you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have his lips locked with your own as you both tried to maintain a steady walk. You smiled against his lips, drawing him in just a little bit closer. You could definitely get use to this — you just didn’t want anything to change when you returned home and Alfie wasn’t alone with you anymore. His attitude was different when he was at work.. he was more powerful, angry, in charge. But as your mouths struggled to fight over the dominance and he clumsily stumbled in order to remain close to you, you convinced yourself that everything would work out. This was Alfie, he’d been looking out for you for a long time — protecting you, you knew the last thing he’d do is hurt you. And starting a relationship that he intended to end within 24 hours didn’t sound like him at all. This was going to be long-term. You were sure of it.

———————————————————————

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[possessionplan]

He can hear things. Things he can hear. Movement, footsteps advancing, falling behind. “Hello. . .? Hello?” He asked, voice quiet--meek, like a mouse. 

“Daniel!” His face, covered in the rainbow colored ichor as a smile grinned even wider. “I missed you. . .!” “Hosuh, they think you’re in the doll. They say-” “They aren’t wrong, you know. Just. . .not right.” Patting the other on the head as he gave him a wink. “Maybe you can help me, Daniel?” “How? How can I help. . .?”

Hosuh opens his mouth to speak, but his voice doesn’t come out. Just the sound of. . . Jay and Stephen arguing? He wakes up. His vision is blurry, and everything around him seems muffled. “Stephen, we can’t go looking for him yet! We need a plan-”

“Who said we were going to be looking for him? I’m going, alone.”

“You’re just going to get yourself killed! Think about this rationally, if we all go together, and with an actual plan, we might actually not die-”

“I caused this mess, got it? I’ll fix it. I’ll go alone so you don’t have to die, okay? Just. . . take care of Daniel and everyone else or I’ll eat your knees.”

“You can’t risk yourself. We need to wait. Just, please, make a plan at least.” He was tired of the arguments. He didn’t want Stephen to go on this suicide mission, if only the purple haired friend could be smarter.

“I don’t matter. Do you wanna know who matters? You and everyone else, you got that?” A weak attempt of a laugh before looking over to Daniel. How long had he been up? “What. . . what day is it?” “It’s Sunday. You slept for a while.” Stephen muttered, ruffling the other’s hair. “I’m gonna head out. Keep Hosuh and everyone else close, Jay. I’ll be back.”

In an attempt to keep Stephen from leaving, the blonde grabbed onto his arm, tight, he was serious. “Stop. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Let go, Jay.” A wheeze of a laugh. Why was he laughing? This wasn’t funny, was it? Was all this stress funny? Ann’s been sobbing her eyes out, Daniel’s been in a semi-coma, Jay’s practically delirious with no sleep, Hosuh’s still in a doll, and Stephen is LAUGHING? Perhaps he was delirious, too, huh? “I don’t want to feel guilty anymore. If I sacrifice myself. . . I won’t feel shitty anymore.” 

“Where are you going?” Daniel asked, pulling himself into a sitting position. His leg was in a splint, now, and strangely, it didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt as much as losing someone he cared about.

“I’m going to find Hosuh’s body-”

“He’s not going anywhere, Dan.” He doesn’t break eye contact with Stephen, glaring at him. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you say? Ha, like I’ll ever listen to this bullshit. I’m leaving, and you aren’t going to tell me to do otherwise.” Pulling his arm back, Stephen began to trot to the door. Staring, thinking, then he begins to follow Stephen. He can’t go alone, and Ann can watch Daniel. Maybe. He’s silent. Glancing at Daniel, who looks back in confusion. “He’s going, isn’t he, Jay. . .?” Daniel tries to stand up, only to make some sort of whine, falling back onto the couch. “Fuck. I can’t get up. . .”

“Ice Dan’s leg. Make sure Ann’s okay. Feed Jocat. I’ll be back, promise.”

Sighing, he gives up. Knowing he can’t stop Stephen. “Fine. Be safe. If you don’t come back alive, I’m killing you in the afterlife.” Turning, he’s still angry, but he keeps quiet. Tending to Daniel’s leg, making sure he’s in no pain. But he felt useless, not being able to help everyone.

The door slams behind Stephen, the last bit of noise available before an audible screech escapes Daniel’s lips. The green haired man began to thrash about, remembering what had happened the last he’d been awake. He remembered what happened to Hosuh, he remembered that Hosuh is still in his body, corrupted by a stupid doll that Stephen gave him. “FUCK.”

“Calm down. You’re going to reopen your wound.” Jay had to stay calm himself, he didn’t want to end up like Daniel. He only just noticed that Jocat and Hosuh- well, the doll that held Hosuh’s soul, were sitting in the corner of the room. Huh. They were here the entire time? He hoped they were okay. 

Jo was curled up beside the doll, snoring all the while. It appears that the brunette had also been sleeping for quite a while now, but at least he’s comfortable.

“You know what’s funny, Jay? I had a dream, and Hosuh came to me in it. He’s still in his body. Still in his body, and he needs help.” Jolting upwards, grabbing Jay by the collar. “Stephen’s got this, he’ll get Hosuh out.”

“Woah, careful. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” How would he free Hosuh, giving the situation? He shouldn't have let him go alone. 

“No! Either let me get up or leave!” Daniel hisses, tugging harder on the blonde’s collar, eyes frenzied, afraid, angry, tearfilled. “Let me get up, Jay.”

Staring, having no change in visible emotion. “Fine. Do what you want. Whatever.”

Pulling away from Daniel, eyes seemingly closed again. “I’m going to go check on Ann.”

Finally attempting to stand up again, Daniel winces, biting onto his lip to prevent from screaming. His wounds may have closed and clotted, but. . . The pain was still there, but not.

“I’m going to pee. You better not stop me, Jay, like you do everyone else!” Sarcasm was in that sentence, for sure. 

“Okay. Whatever.”

Repeating himself, before leaving the room. He didn’t like to show when he was upset, or angry, but, being exhausted, it made it difficult to hide. Ann lay on the floor of the guest room, bundled up in an assortment of blankets, scooping ice cream into her mouth. She felt horrible, Bellboy and what he did to Jocat flooding her mind constantly. A dry sob escapes chapped lips.

Quiet, she didn’t even notice he was there. Jay slowly approached the bundle of grief, hesitant. “Ann. . . ? Are you feeling any better?”

“Jay. . .? Is Jocat okay?” The bubblegum haired girl asked, attempting to sit up. “Please tell me he’s okay. . .?”

“Well, he’s sleeping right now, but he’s still. . . A puppet. But other than that, he’s just fine!-” Try to be optimistic, he thought, he had to stay happy for the others. 

Nodding. “Sorry, I’m just. . . really messed up about all this.” Holding up the half-eaten tub of ice cream to Jay. “Want some. . .?”

At least she’s not crying anymore. “Ah- no, I’m good. Are you gonna be okay alone? I need to keep an eye on Daniel.”

“Yeah, I’ll be good. Also, you wanna might check up on Hosuh and Jocat. They. . .They’ve been inseparable since Bellbo--. . .” A sob. Dammit, why can’t she keep her cool? Why does she have to cry each time that name falls from her mouth? “Bellboy.” A swift movement, and he hugs Ann. He wasn’t used to doing nice things for others, and hugs were uncommon from him. “It. . . it’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Jay. . . But, the question is, are you okay? You haven’t slept since Wednesday.” Clinging onto the blonde, never letting go. She couldn’t--she couldn’t help it. It felt nice to be embraced by someone. She knew it was unusual for him to act this way, but. . . “Why don’t you get some rest? I can try to hold down the fort.”

He had to admit, he was tired. But he couldn’t sleep now, not with everything that’s happening. Stephen left, now he had to keep everyone else safe. . “I’ll be fine. I have to be.” Mumbling, before slowly releasing Ann. He couldn’t hold the hug for long without being uncomfortable. 

“Okay, if you’re sure. . .” Inching away from him, now, to take a huge scoop of the frozen treat and stuff it into her mouth. Waving him off.

Taking a deep breath, then standing. He leaves, now to go check on the two, who were dollified.

[velvet-navy]

“P-please don’t!” He’s hurriedly cleaning up the mess as quickly as he can, wanting to hide every shred of evidence. He was too young to die. “I’ll give you all the art supplies you want! Just.. don’t tell on me..”

“Oh well..it may cause some fun if I just inform the other sibling.”

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter ten

A/N - I don’t put links in anymore so that this comes up on search, but check my masterlist linked in my bio for links to every previous/future chapter.

Word count 3k (as usual). After reading this chapter, tell me on anon (or not) who you think MC is going to end up with! Things are getting veeery complicated, and it’s only going to get more complex from here!

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER TEN ↳The events of the past few days have changed things, and you struggle to remain professional at your job with the hole you’ve dug yourself into.

Seeing Jimin in the lobby or the hallways was a different experience than it used to be.

Gone were the cheeky back-and-forths, the inside jokes, the easy atmosphere.

You couldn’t help but avoid his gaze whenever you two were in the same vicinity, knowing that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to school your expression. You didn’t even know yourself how you’d react, if you would scornfully glare at him with a hateful scowl or just melancholily pine after what could’ve been.

Life had gotten infinitely more confusing within a very short space of time. It weirded you out, knowing what you two had done together, and also knowing what, or rather who, you had done almost immediately after.

Jimin obviously didn’t know, but you had no idea how long that would last. A shadow of shame was following you around in the two shifts you had worked since you and Jungkook…had gotten together. It was like all your morals and common sense had abandoned you to your foolish fuckery, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you’d do differently if you had the chance.

If Namjoon had noticed you were a little quieter, he hadn’t said anything. If he noticed how quickly you got back from checking out the lobby, and how long you seemed to spend in the bar, he was keeping his mouth shut. Hobi, however, was one wrong word away from a breakthrough, and you had to be extra careful with him.

“Jimin said you looked extra beautiful today,” Hoseok mock-whispers conspiratorially.

You fiddle with the eftpos machine he had asked you to fix and ignore him.

“Okay, he didn’t, but he’s probably thinking it. He’s been staring at you nonstop for the past two days.” He awaits your response, and huffs when there is none. “And he told me what happened between you two, so you don’t have to keep it from me.”

His overly calm and hopeful face is a dead giveaway he’s lying. “Then you don’t need to hear it again.”

“Come on, muppet! Give me something! I can’t help out my two best friends who fucked but for some reason are mad at each other if I don’t know why they’re mad at each other!”

You drop the dysfunctional machine and frown at him. “It’s none of your business, Hoseok,” you whine, “so just stay out of it! We just…want different things, that’s all,” you concede.

His eyes glimmer in sympathy. “Hey,” he soothes, “you’ll find someone who cares for you like you want. I’m sure he’s just around the corner.”

Although you know it’s just a cheesy metaphor, you think of Jungkook, who is most literally right around the corner, geographically speaking. Another wave of guilt crashes down on you. “Yeah.”

“Cheer up, buttercup. If it makes you happy, I’ll tell you what Yoongi did for me for Valentine’s day yesterday.”

You perk up. “Ooh, what did he do?”

“Nothing,” he replies flatly, “nada. Not even a text. Moral of the story is that no guy’s perfect. He might have the cock of a god and the tongue of a demon, but he’ll still ghost you on the most romantic day of the year.”

You laugh softly. “Ah, well, at least you’re getting paid. Win-win situation. If he does my taxes and doesn’t have sex with me as payment, I don’t know if I’ll feel guilty or insulted.”

“Good luck convincing him he’s not completely gay.” He hummed a little in deep contemplation. “If he does have sex with you, it’s like you’ll have indirectly fucked me. Against all biological chances, your vagina will have touched my asshole.”

You stare at him in disgust for a solid minute, waiting for the moment he realized what a fucked-up thing that was to say and take it back. He doesn’t. “You know,” you start begrudgingly, “Yoongi explicitly asked to tell you to stop talking about your sex life with him. I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I should’ve listened to him.”

“What do you mean? It’s a two-for-one deal! Would you rather have sex with me without the middle man? I think not.”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. “I’ve decided if he does my taxes and doesn’t expect sex in return, I should just be grateful I get to avoid thinking about that ever again. Maybe I should consider leaving this job and working in a monastery so that I never again have to see your face or his.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

You spy Jimin beginning to approach the desk and frown. “I think I have to get back to work.”

True to his word, Jungkook has been treating you better than any man you’ve been with before. In the bar fridge underneath the bench, he’s stockpiled some iced coffee cartons for you, since he knows you prefer it to hot coffee, and every time you stop by, he pulls one out and gets you to sit down while the two of you chat.

Today’s no different, and you’re tucked in behind the bar with him so that he can wrap an arm around you as you speak.

“Jungkook-ah, what if Namjoon or somebody else sees? This isn’t professional,” you warn him, but he simply smiles and shakes his head.

“There’s nothing wrong with them seeing us. In fact, I kinda hope they do.” His eyes glaze over, and his smile hardens slightly. “I want every man in this building to know you’re mine now.”

You stare up at him unsurely. “I don’t think we should take things so fast, Jungkook.” He furrows his eyebrows. “We barely know each other, and you’re so young, I don’t know if I should really-”

“Hey,” he interjects, “I’ve told you before, I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions like a big boy, okay? And I know enough about you to know that I’m completely crazy about you. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I love you.”

You stiffen in his grasp but try not to sound like you’re patronizing him. “That’s the thing, Jungkook. You’ve never felt this way before. So how do you know it’s love? It’s probably just your garden variety crush.”

His hand tightens on your shoulder a little, but his face is still open, staring deeply into your eyes. “How did you know, then, what it was like when you fell in love.”

“To be honest, Kookie, I haven’t fallen in love before. And I’ve been in many more relationships than I’m sure you have. It’s not something that just happens on a whim.”

“So, you don’t love me, then?”

You gaze up at him and his vulnerable stare, unsure if he’s mad or upset. “I really like you, Jungkook, but I don’t know you well enough to love you.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “That’s okay,” he states after a few moments, “you don’t have to love me. I’ll just be happy if you let me love you.” He tilts his head down and gently presses a kiss to your slightly parted lips. His eyes flutter closed when the two of you connect, and although your mind is screaming to be professional and mature, you can’t help but do the same. His lips are soft but firm, and he pokes his tongue out just enough to swipe at your lips, sucking the bottom one gently into his mouth and nibbling on it.

The electricity inside you jolting south is most definitely too much for the workplace, and reluctantly you place a hand on his chest and push him off you, him chasing your mouth until the last second.

“Kookie,” you mumble softly, worried at how quickly your voice has turned low and sultry with arousal, “not here.”

He pouts a little but nods anyway. “Have a good shift, jagiya. I’ll look forward to 5am so that the two of us can go home together again. It’s become the happiest part of my day.”

He lets you out from behind the bar again, staring dreamily at you as you walk out.

As you finish typing a message to Yoongi, sending him your address after he gave you a date and time to go over your finances, a solid body comes crashing into yours.

Startled, you glance up, almost losing your balance fully, and stumble back from the tall, broad-shouldered man in front of you.

“Y/n!” You smile at him awkwardly. “It’s been ages.”

That would be from your stubborn refusal to check out the kitchen each night until you could see on the security cameras in Namjoon’s office that his car had left the carpark. “I guess it has! How have you been?”

He smiles sweetly down at you and escorts you with a hand at the small of your back down the hallway from whence he came. “Not too bad. We had bombe Alaska for dessert tonight, so I got to set things on fire again. I always love when Namjoon lets me do that. I think secretly he enjoys it too. The accountant told me he once walked in on him playing it back on the CCTV footage. He’s too scared to do it himself, you see. Anyway, that was fun.”

The two of you approach the restaurant, but instead of taking you out back into the kitchen where he usually spends his time, he sits you down at one of the booths, upholstered in dark green velvet with a black tabletop, and gets in across from you.

“I’m glad I bumped into you,” he admitted, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, actually.”

You scratch behind your ear awkwardly. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been feeling a lot better lately, a lot more like myself. And I realized, no wonder we never really had a chance, we went about it backwards.” He’s puffing his chest up like he’s made some astounding breakthrough.

You grin wryly. “How so? Crying into a bin of ice-cream isn’t the regular first date protocol?”

“Exactly,” he confirms enthusiastically, “you cry on the third date. They’re into you enough not to be put off completely by it, but then they know how ugly you get when you cry, and they’ll make an effort to never let you cry again.” He tilts his head to the side, pouting his lips in deep contemplation. “Although I suppose it wouldn’t really work with me. I’m a ten no matter if I’m happy or sad. Nobody rocks bloodshot eyes and snot quite like I can.”

You snort. “A man of many talents, I see.”

“Oh, absolutely. Cooking I can do in my sleep. My true calling is being professionally good-looking.”

You look up at him through your lashes and bat them flirtatiously. “I would say you’re overqualified.”

He presses a palm to his chest and turns his head to the side dramatically. “Ah, you’re so right!” He faces you again, a little less jokey this time. “See, aren’t I so different than the miserable yet dashingly attractive man crying in the kitchen? I’m much happier now, I feel like I’m me again.”

You smile at him softly and nod. “Yeah, I can see that now. It’s not like there’s anything wrong with the real you, though. I like you just the same.”

He stares at you thoughtfully. “Let’s just start from scratch,” he suggests, “we can pretend like nothing happened, and that I’ve been the comedically gifted and handsome chef this whole time and see what happens. Sound good?”

He holds out a hand for you to take, but instead of a handshake, he offers up a pinky. You scoff, but wrap your pinky around his anyway, rocking your joint hands back and forth as you speak. “Well, I’m glad you’ve moved on from your days of crying pathetically into a tub of ice cream. It’s much better to bawl your eyes out into soup, that way it doubles as seasoning.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already use my bodily fluids when I cook.”

You frown at him. “I’m never letting you cook for me again.”

He calls out to you as you go to leave the restaurant. “Hey, wait, I didn’t say which ones! I realize now had bad that sounded, I swear I just meant sweat, where are you going?”

“Y/n, would you mind taking a seat? I just want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart seizes up and just about falls out of your chest, but you plaster on an easygoing smile, and sit down in the armchair across from Namjoon’s desk.

Whenever the ‘we need to talk’ card was played, you would always begin wildly recalling every bit of trouble you could have possibly been caught for, usually irrationally, but this time, as you wiped off the sweat gathering on your palms and tried not to look too terrified, you realized just how low your morals and sense of professionalism had fallen since working here. Whether it was helping Jin sneak off with a tub of ice-cream that the hotel had paid for or sleeping with multiple work colleagues, you really had crossed the line far too many times.

Namjoon seemed pretty stressed as usual, apparently unaware his sweater was inside-out, but he didn’t look mad. In fact, he was smiling at you like he was sucking up to the teacher.

“First of all,” he begun, “I can’t thank you enough for all the great work you’ve done so far. I know the night team can sometimes be hard to deal with, but it’s been such a great help having an extra person to help me keep up with things.” Introduction over, he clears his throat and steeples his fingers. “So, that’s why I’m asking if you would want to become a co-owner with me.”

You freeze.

He smiles hopefully at you.

You stare at him. “Sorry, what?”

Namjoon laughs nervously. “It wouldn’t be a huge change in hours for you, but it would mean a lot more responsibility when it came to running the hotel as a whole, not just during the night shift. It’s mostly more admin stuff, like the monthly reports, the payroll, that kind of thing. I just thought to myself, ‘why am I freaking out over these by myself when I have a perfectly capable young lady right here?’”

Your mind is whirring, and you don’t get the chance to compile your thoughts before he’s talking again.

“It would also mean that you would be in charge of the rest of the team, too, and you could resolve any issues yourself rather than just relaying them to me. I’d increase your pay for all this, of course. What do you say?”

You stare down at your hands, picking at the dead skin around your nails. “I’m not sure,” you admit, “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable having authority over the other guys.” You could never tell Namjoon, but if you took the job it would technically mean Jungkook was sleeping with his boss. You didn’t think your eternal soul could take the hit. “I’m friends with some of them, and, well, it might be weird hanging out with them outside of work if I’m their boss, you know?”

He sighs a little. “Of course, I understand. It’s up to you. I’ll give you, say, a week to think over it a little longer and get back to me, okay?”

You nodded, and he went to go back to the pile of reports on his desk, but you cleared your throat before he did. “Hey, Namjoon,” you said casually.

“Yeah?”

“Is it…can you…do coworkers ever date each other? At this hotel, I mean.”

His eyes flash downwards. “Sometimes,” he answers noncommittedly.

You recall Jin mentioning his history with Namjoon and realize how your question must sound to him. “And you’re okay with it?”

His forehead creases. “Well, as long as it doesn’t affect their work, I don’t see it as a problem.” He looks back up at you. “Why?”

You shrug, breaking his gaze and staring into the glow of the desk lamp. “Just curious, is all.”

He waits until you glance back up at him before responding. “You know you can come to me about anything, don’t you? No judgements, I promise. I just want my employees to feel like they can be completely honest with me.”

You can’t break away from the earnest warmth in his eyes. It’s like he’s broken down your filter, and you want to tell him everything. You can’t tell him everything, but maybe a little something would serve as an olive branch. “I…There was a thing with another employee, but it was a one-off.”

He nods slowly. “I’m glad you felt comfortable sharing that with me. Are there any problems; hurt feelings, festering resentment?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh. “No.” A whole fucking boatload of confusion, maybe, but that wasn’t exactly all Jimin’s fault.

“Then no harm done. We’re good?” You nod. “Good.” He pauses, pen hovering over a page. “Please do think seriously about that co-owner position. I really appreciate you as a worker and as a person. And you’re right; it’s hard to make friends with people when one of you is the boss of the other. I’d love to have you working with me rather than for me.” He nods to himself once resolutely and turns back to his work.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted off your chest, but unfortunately, there are three other weights that remain. Kim Seokjin, Jeon Jungkook, and Kim Taehyung.

Some secrets just weren’t ready to be shared.

TAGLIST (send me a message or an ask to be added, and you’ll get notified every time I post a new EYS chapter).

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[4dtk]

Mortal — Chapter Four

i’m so so sorry this is so late gnfjjgd hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

Prev | Next

We didn't speak until hours later, where we've slept through aching bones and unpleasant headaches. The tension was unbearable.

I emerge from the bedroom, legs feeling uncomfortable due to sleeping in my jeans. My hair was unkempt, sticking out like leaves on a tree branch and my eyes seem to droop no matter how much I try to keep them open.

As a guest, I should've given Keith the bed and me, the sofa, but I couldn't bear to face him after what he'd done. He made me think a lot the previous night, successfully getting me to stare into space many times where I've lost count; I only got to ponder over one question the whole night: Did I cross a boundary?

Scratching an itchy spot on my head, I tried to blink away any hint of fatigue as I grabbed a new set of clothes and the towel left hanging by my window. I rushed through a quick rinse, feeling refreshed from the hot water that fell from the silver sprout of the shower head. Lathering up shampoo suds in my hair, I did the same to my body, washing it away sooner than I'd expected.

I'm reminded, also, of the gold ring slapped onto me yesterday, weighing down on my finger more it should. I play with it once all the soap is gone, running the index finger of my other hand along it with surprising tenderness. I don't feel like a recently proposed-to person, but nor do I feel like a regular girl sustaining a fake relationship with a gargoyle to protect my safety. I'm somehow caught in the middle, but I'm not sure what's the name for it.

I stepped out of the cubicle, discovering that the steam from the water had fogged up the mirror like it always has. I began to slip on the necessary clothing with ease now that I've taken an invigorating shower, dressing with a pair of shorts that made my legs cheer at being exposed. Securing the towel with my two hands, I start to towel dry my hair with a sense of vigour, squeezing out any excess water that may have been stuck in my locks; perhaps it was pressurising weight of having to talk to the one other person sleeping on the goddamn sofa that drove me to dry with so much action.

Soon, the sensation of my hair led me to stop, as it grew to feel weirdly unusual all of a sudden. Looking into the now steam-free mirror, I notice the lack of wetness in my hair; it was entirely dry.

Weird.

Finishing up with the shower and getting over the weird encounter with my head full of hair, I made my way to the kitchen to grab a new bottle of coffee from the fridge. Ice cold, just how I liked it. I drank the beverage in silence, the calm atmosphere of the morning making me forget the lack of sleep I've gotten from all the overthinking.

Inevitably, I'd have to face him sooner or later, but I couldn't focus on a proper apology. How could I, when the only thing my mind could fixate on was his crestfallen expression?

I sighed for the umpteenth time that day, despite it only being the morning. Placing the bottle on the serving counter, I boiled water for Keith's drink which contained an actual coffee bag. I stir the coffee with a certain amount of dread, unprepared for whatever that could happen when I'd pass him the coffee mug. Stealing a slice of bread from the Breakfast Box, I munch on it quietly; I couldn't care less if it was expired.

I trudge into the living room with caution, already finding him awake with a hand covering his eyes. I set the coffee down carefully on the table in front of the sofa he slept on, scurrying to close the blinds on the windows from which light seeped through. I take a sit in front of the serving counter of the kitchen, perched on one of the high stools I purchased from IKEA. It was heartbreakingly expensive that I could only afford two.

"So..." I trailed off again, voice dying with the sun that subsided—there wasn't any point in pulling the blinds down. Keith sighed, removing the hand shielding his eyes now that the room had darkened a little. The boy said nothing as he moved forward to sip on the beverage, only turning to me after he'd composed himself.

Before he could open his mouth though, I cut in, afraid of whatever he was going to say. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force you into something you don't lik-"

He'd shaken his head, fast, closing his eyes again and cradling his head in his hands in defeat. "You caught me." He said softly, voice cracking like the ground after a drought. By then, I was already striding across the room to sit beside him, a tender hand on his arm.

"But it wasn't because I didn't like it."

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't had contact with anyone before. I retreated because I didn't know how to react. I guess, when you did that, with your arms around my neck, I panicked—and I'd remembered how disloyal the husband was. I didn't want you to get close to me. It was either because I was afraid you'd leave me or the other way round, but my head hurts too much to think right now."

I let out a sigh of empathy, understanding immediately. It was a familiar feeling for me, having had only a couple of friends at the university I attended before this big hoo-ha happened. "I get it, though if I were to get out of this alive, I think it would be healthy if I let more people in. You don't have to follow my advice, but you could start with me."

I let Keith decide if he wanted to answer me, staying quiet as I got up from the comfy sofa and strolled to my bedroom to find some clothes my previous butch of a girlfriend had left behind. Getting a new towel from the drawers I brought both the former and the latter back to the living room, placing them gently beside him and held out my hand dramatically like I was a bellboy welcoming him into a hotel.

"Bathroom's right down there. Have a shower and then we'll talk after."

He still was mute as he gathered the things, following the directions I gave him. I watched him go, gradually laying down at the space he had occupied the night before. All I heard was the click of the bathroom door locking before I drifted into a light sleep that led me to float just above cloud nine. I was, now, at least; I think I handled that pretty well.

I was awoken to the similar sound of the door unlocking, looking ahead with droopy, sleepy eyes to see that Keith had emerged from the bathroom, his hair also washed in haste due to the short time he'd spent inside. From here I could smell the shampoo I had used, and the lovely fragrance of the body wash I didn't know I owned.

Coming out with wet hair was one thing, but topless? That was something Keith wouldn't let me live that down. Without warning from my conscience, I smiled teasingly with a tilt of my head, although I was the one turning hopelessly crimson.

"What?"

"Nothing, just admiring the view...of my apartment."

It made Keith chuckle, hands still entangled in his hair to dry out the water in it. Once he felt satisfied, he ruffled through his ebony locks with a hand to fluff it up. The towel dropped soon after, letting it hang around his neck like an Olympic swimmer. The sun decided to flit through the apartment at the right time, travelling through the blinds and projecting its light across the walls—and across Keith.

It lighted a spark in me, feeling the same skips happen to my heart at the gorgeous non-human standing in front of me. The boy caught on to my fluster, testing the waters with a question of his own: "Only the apartment?" I shrugged from my place on the couch, turning my head to stare at the blank television showing my exact reflection, "Yeah, only the apartment. Dream on."

I saw him from the corner of my eye, rolling his eyes and putting on the shirt I'd given him earlier. I held a hand out in feigned despair as he popped the cap of my bottled coffee, witnessing him gulp down a large amount of the drink. He made a face once he'd finished his sip of the coffee, closing the cap back on.

"You drink that?" I nod in response, unimpressed at the negative reaction. "You do know there's a ton of glucose in here, right?"

"Why are you using such big words? Yes, I know it has a lot of sugar in it."

Keith rolls his eyes again but this time with a hint of a smile, added in with a scoff that tells me he thinks I'm unbelievable; I think I'm believable enough.

Once he was dressed, he plopped down beside me on the couch to decide what our next step was. Discussing the wizard ended up with unexpected turns that had us stuck at dead-ends, and had to change our plans a couple of times. I was getting dizzy by the fourth hour, drifting on and off the line of consciousness as we went over our plans yet again.

By the sixth hour, my head had rested on the elbow that was propped on Keith's shoulder, who noticed my lacking response of only grunts and hums whenever he'd asked a question. Slowly, he sat back cautiously as to avoid a jerk that could make me lie on something more sturdy, and slowly, he started talking.

Keith started with the same benign voice he'd use on me, speaking softly about the time he just had run from the house and how he felt just like I did: scared, clueless, lack of spur. He didn't know where to go in that moment of rage and found the bus I'd been taking; he drops off and busies himself with the stores around if he wants, but by night he's back on the bus, mostly sleeping since no one could see him.

Keith also talked about the visitors that came to the house before: some were related by blood, while others came to negotiate on trades or business. Despite his claimed hatred towards the owner slash husband, I can see that he doesn't despise him entirely, given how he'd had remorse hidden within a sullen expression.

The constant whisper of the things he'd gone through in life in this realm falls from Keith's lips; it barely keeps me awake, but it would seem rude to fall asleep in the middle of it especially since Keith isn't someone who's open about their feelings. He might take it as a form of discouragement, and with what happened last night, I wouldn't want to bet on it. The whispers die on his lips once he'd notice my breathing patterns turning into one of peace, assuming I had succumbed to the temptress named Slumber.

The distant murmur of the ceiling fan is kept at a low speed, whirring with whoosh-like sounds each time it makes a cycle. All I can sense is the stiffness in Keith's arm, perhaps done so deliberately so it would make my nap worthwhile. I rest there with a sense of calmness I haven't felt in a while, feeling like everything was in place at the moment and that nothing could come between us, albeit we weren't together.

Despite all the perfect conditions to fall into a splendid slumber, the loud beating of my heart kept me wide, wide awake. Only the echo of my heart thundered inside my head, never missing a beat of the confession-like sentence escaping from Keith:

"I adore you—it's like you make me feel weirdly protective."

Tags: @satan-ruler-of-hells

[celia-martinez-writes]

Ep. 4 Sweet Surprise

With all that fuss during the morning, my stomach began showing some restlessness. Dream Guy called, and we would have lunch together at the hotel. I got to the restaurant first, so by the time he showed up, I was already sipping an iced tea. “As-salaam Alaykum (hello), honey! You could pass as a Moroccan, a stunning Moroccan, I might add.” Oh, so he does speak Arabic. “Walaykum As-salaam, habibi (hello, my love)!” I have done my studying, too. “I missed you!” “And because you missed me, you went shopping?” “I wasn’t planning to buy anything in special, but the salesman convinced me and I feel gorgeous in this outfit.” “That’s because you are! I just might take you upstairs for lunch.” “La (no)! You promised you’d take me to see the city.” “Did you have Arabic classes this morning?” “No, habibi, but I never leave home without a basic vocabulary. People are much nicer if you speak their language, even if you struggle.” “And how was your day?” Oh, now what? Am I going to tell him I went to a bathhouse, heard his voice and a gunshot? I might hear another gunshot later in the room and I don’t particularly feel like it. But he’ll notice my skin is softer and I smell like an apothecary. I’ll do as a friend once said “half-half”. “Oh, darling, I went to a hammam this morning. Delightful!” “Hammam? What an excellent idea! I wanted to suggest it for tomorrow.” Hmm, nothing shows on his face, no wonder, no anger, no surprise either. Did he know I was at that bathhouse? At this point, I almost believe it was all a dream. Was it? I fall asleep sometimes at massages, but this time  I don’t remember sleeping. Should I go on with the story? Not yet. Maybe when we leave. I would like to be home if anything happens. As if it matters where you are when you get killed. “And you darling?” I snapped out of my story. He began staring. “Oh, nothing much, just some meetings. Let’s eat something and then we’ll go sightseeing.” The waiter had brought the menus. “We would like to order.” “A veggie tagine for me and a salad, please.” “And I’ll have lamb. And gray wine for both of us. Thank you.” “Gray wine? I have never tasted it.” “Trust me, honey. You can have mint tea after the meal if you don’t like the wine.” The wine was tasty, just a pale rosé, not very vibrant, but refreshing enough. So, where would he take me now? You know what? He can take me wherever he wants. I came here to enjoy the weekend with DreamGuy and that is precisely what I intend to do. We were sipping our teas after the meal when a bellboy came and whispered to DreamGuy. “Honey, it’s time to go,” he told me. “Oh, so soon?” “We’re on a schedule. It’s a surprise.” A car was waiting for us. Oh, it’s the same driver that picked me up at the airport. Soon we arrived to a tall modern building. On the roof terrace, a helicopter was waiting for us. Wow, that’s indeed surprising! DreamGuy walked to the other side of the helicopter and sat on the pilot’s seat. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like? I’m going to fly this thing.” After clearance from air traffic control, we took off to see the city. We began the tour over the ocean, past the Hassan Mosque. I still can’t figure out if it has a green color or teal. It’s splendid. Casablanca has well-earned its reputation as a romantic city. It seems to have it all: ocean, beach, old and new neighborhoods, mosques, churches and incredible street food. But I can't lose myself in my thoughts. Too many things happened today. And my DreamGuy is still a mystery to me. Now it's as good as any time to find out more. “How come you can fly a helicopter?” “I attended flight school. And having construction sites all over the country meant that I got to practice flying quite often. I'm fed up with driving.” “The city view is breathtaking! Have you been here often? You seem to know your way around.” “It's one of my favorite places in the world, but now with you here, it's jumped up to number one. I’m fortunate that you are here with me. That Sunday, when I talked to you at dinner, I wasn't sure how you'd react, but I'm happy I took the chance.” I would kiss him now, but I can't reach him, all strapped-up in seatbelts. By now, I should look mesmerized, but I can't focus. Before I realized it, my mouth opened without being told to. ”Honey, there is something I need to ask you, and I can’t get it out of my mind.” “Really?” “I told you I went to a hammam this morning. What I didn't tell you was that a strange thing happened.” He looked puzzled for a second. “While I was having a massage, I thought I heard your voice speaking in Arabic and…” “And?” “And then I heard a gunshot.” He twitched the control stick for a split second. At this point, I am glad he had both hands on the controls. “Quite an exciting morning you had, but I believe you imagined it all. I don't carry a gun, as you can see. Maybe you dozed off during the massage. It happens to me, too. You're funny!” “It sure wasn't funny to me! It wasn't just me who heard it. The attendant got startled too, but by the time I got dressed, she left.” “My darling, please try to relax and enjoy the city. I believe this is the best way to do it.” Then he turned on the intercom. “Boys, are you ready?” he said. “Ready, Sir!” “Fire away, then!” Fire what? Again? For the next 5 minutes, the beach illuminated with an astonishing firework. Now that was something I didn’t expect. He kissed me. “Honey, I rarely take women around with me, but for sure, you are the only one that I got fireworks for. I love you!”  

Read the full article

[velvet-navy]

What delightful news! "I am very grateful for your help. I fear what would happen if that virus continued to exist.."

Then Futaba got to the safety lock part.

"... Parental safety locks? Um, will this prohibit me from my gacha games? I have dedicated a substantial amount of effort into my team, you see." Not to mention the fact he frequently wasted his money on them.

"You're a sad little man...Just give me your phone before you hurt yourself more."

@velvet-navy

[velvet-navy]

“Ah..”

His golden eyes are glistening with great intrigue. It seems he’s fascinated by something.

“Could this be.. a chocolate fountain..?” His attempts at concealing his sheer excitement had failed miserably. Without averting his gaze, he watches it for a few moments in pure, almost child-like awe.

“How interesting.. perhaps I should ask my master if we could install one of these.”

[rhinozilla]

Can you do a fan fiction of Daryl calling Carol all these cute pet names? Please and thank you.

Like these things do, itstarted out harmless.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

The term of endearmenthad lazily floated through the sleep-soaked air of dawn in their bedroom. Itbrushed against the back of her neck with his breath, and if she woke up everyday for the rest of her days like this, then she would consider every morning asuccess. Once Daryl had rolled out of bed, Carol wasn’t entirely sure that he’drealized he’d said it. It was one of Daryl’s skills that his body could get up,get dressed, and feed itself before really needing his consciousness to wake upand participate. She decided to write it off as one of those things, but itstill warmed her from head to toe.

The second time wascompletely intentional.

“What’s goin’ on,sourpatch?”

Carol looked up from hernotebook, face puckered in concentration, and found Daryl standing in the frontdoorway, hands on his hips and with a lopsided grin. From her spot where she’dwedged herself into the corner of the couch, she started to talk, but realizedshe was also chewing on her pencil. She spat it out with a sputter, and hisgrin widened.

“What’d you call me?”she asked with a snort.

“Look like you suckin’on one of them damn sourpatch candies,” he remarked.

Carol scoffed anduncurled herself from the couch, stretching like a cat across the cushions.“Very funny.”

After that, it was likethe ice was broken, because the pet names started coming more frequently and inincreasing degrees of ridiculousness.

“Hey, Sunshine,” cameone after with a kiss to her temple.

After a particularlylong day of working with Ezekiel, Daryl had taken her hand and given a kneelthat he must have thought looked theatrical, but she was pretty sure it was afigure skater’s bow from some Olympics.

“Duchess.” He kissed thetop of her knuckles

“Oh my God, Daryl.”

From there, at somepoint, he seemed to become unable to stop himself.

It was the long drawl of“darlin’,” against her neck at night.

It was holding the dooropen and a wave of his arm with an attempted accent: “Madame.”

It was hopping to hercasual request like he’d sat on a tack, and a prompt: “Yes, Captain!”

Nothing compared to oneafternoon, high out of his mind with some of the Kingdom’s best weed–theclosest thing to a pain killer–and stuck in bed after a hard fall off theroof.

Speaking loudly hurt hisribs, which hurt his back, which hurt everything else, so Carol had offeredhim, half-teasingly, a bell to ring if he needed her, so he wouldn’t have toshout for help.

“Noooo,” he whined.“Ain’t gonna ring for ya like y’re some kinda bellboy…bellgirl…bellhop.D’they still have bellhops?”

“Not anymore, sweetie,”she assured.

“No, I mean–” hegestured vaguely. “Before, like, five years ago. Did Obama have a bellhop?”

“The White House isn’t ahotel, so…I’m gonna say no.”

“Hefner?”

“Why would you go fromObama to Hefner?”

“Because both dudescould gettt ittt,” he sang the last two words.

Carol sighed. “Anyway,Daryl, hey, focus…If you need anything, please ring me. I don’t want yougetting out of bed and ending up with a punctured lung over a glass of water.”

Daryl lookeddistastefully at the little silver bell, but he nodded. He squinted his eyesclosed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“Ugh, I hateeverything.”

“Aw, that’s no way tobe.”

“Not you though!” Darylimmediately looked at her again, so serious that Carol tried not to laugh athis expression. “Never, never, could never. Nuh uh. I love you. Like, wow–”His eyes widened, like he was tasting those three words for the first time. “IloooOOOooove you.”

Carol smiled, melting abit inside. “I love you too, shnookums.”

He giggled, actuallygiggled, and reached up, poking her nose. “Boop.” Then he snorted. Loudly.“Shnookums.” He grew serious again. “Really though…You’re awesome.”

“I know.”

“No, no, you don’t.You’re like…You’re the surprise onion ring in an order of fries.” He lifted ahand for emphasis. “You’re the caramelly center of a piece of chocolate…Youare like a perfectly golden chicken nugget…”

Carol lifted an eyebrow.“Hungry?”

Daryl’s face crumpled.“Yesss.” He reached over and chimed the bell.

“I’m right here,” Carollaughed. “And I’m sorry, but we’re fresh out of onion rings, fries, and chickennuggets.”

Daryl pondered this fora moment. Then he lifted both hands like a frame.

“You’re like atomato…with salt on it…”

Carol thought of thefruit bowl on the dining room table with the tomatoes in it. The stinker musthave seen it when she and Jerry had helped Daryl back into the house after hisspill.

“Would you like a tomatowith salt on it?”

She got a sheepishlittle nod.

Carol chuckled andleaned down, giving him a quick kiss on the nose followed by a long kiss to thelips.

“I’ll see what I can doabout that.”

Daryl smiled, eyesbloodshot from the marijuana, and one canine tooth showing in his grin, makinghim look a little manic.

“What’s the point ofbeing president if you can’t have a bellhop?”

“Daryl, go to sleep.”

[perksofbeingawaifu]

by the sea

Viktor tries to escort a tipsy Yuuri to his room after the banquet, but Yuuri can’t remember what his room number is. ~1k, drunk character(s), fluff

“Where’s his coach? Hey, Chris, Chris—where’s—does anyone know where his coach is?”

“No, but I could be his coach,” Chris said, a very innocent smile on his not so innocent face.

“You’re no help. C’mon, I’m trying to get him back to his coach so he can go sleep it off,” Viktor said, one arm nearly shaking with the effort of holding up Yuuri.

“Viktor is my coach!” Yuuri insisted, draped over him like a royal garment.

Viktor sighed. Yuuri looked up at him with bright, expressive eyes.

“Let me take you to your room. Are you here in the hotel? What room? Yuuri?”

“Yours!” Yuuri said and then babbled incoherently.

Or at least it was incoherent to Viktor he couldn’t tell if it was English gibberish or Japanese. Or Japanese gibberish, Viktor hadn’t considered that. It was possible Yuuri was drunk in all languages.

“Yuri I’m taking him to his room, so tell Yakov, will you?” Viktor asked.

“Ew, don’t. Drunks are gross.”

“Russian!” Yuuri exclaimed excitedly. “I know Russian!”

Both Yuri and Viktor froze, turning and facing Yuuri with incredulity spread on their faces.

“Moscowwww, Kiev!”

“That was very good!” Viktor praised even as Yuri scowled. “Now Yuuri, do you remember your room?”

“Yesssss,” Yuuri said, slipping even further down, pressing his face into Viktor’s belly.

“What floor?”

“Up!”

Well that was better than nothing, Viktor sighed. He half carried Yuuri through the lobby, feeling a great deal. Viktor casually swiped a bucket of ice from a bellboy’s cart. Tossing out the ice through an open window, he forced the bucket into Yuuri’s hands.

“Hold onto this in case you have to vomit, alright?” Viktor said.

They got off the elevator on the first floor.

“Look familiar?” Viktor asked.

“Nyet. More Russian! I watch Bond. James Bond.”

“Amazing! Now let’s try thank you. Spasibo!”

“Space ball!” Yuuri said, trying to remove his shirt again.

“Nope, we’re keeping the clothes on.”

“How about this floor?” Viktor asked on.

“No.”

“That’s okay, there’s only…wow, twenty two floors.”

Somewhere around Floor 8, Yuuri became even less coherent than before. He couldn’t keep his eyes open and tucked his head against Viktor’s shoulder, his hand resting curled in Viktor’s palm. It felt almost like they were two people walking on a date. Viktor dared rest his head on Yuuri’s dark hair. It was a little sweaty from his exuberant dancing, but fluffy like duckling feathers. Viktor let his chin rest and eyes droop before he realized he may have been a little tipsy as well. He hadn’t felt it at the banquet, but now that he was standing in a moving elevator, the tiny room swam before his eyes.

“Here!” Yuuri said lurching forward suddenly, pointing down the hall.

“Okay which room?” Viktor asked.

They paced up and down the entire floor, but Yuuri didn’t even have his glasses (they were safely in Viktor’s breast pocket) so he squinted at each and every single number but couldn’t seem to find his own room. He instead sat on the floor, looking a great deal like a toddler who can’t put on their own shoes. Viktor sat down next to him, if only to keep his head from pounding. Yuuri was muttering rapidly in Japanese against Viktor’s lapel.

“I wish I knew what you were saying,” Viktor said, brushing Yuuri’s hair off his forehead. “I swear I’m going to buy a book and I’m going to learn everything about Japan and I’m going to learn to speak Japanese, just you wait.”

Yuuri laughed to himself and murmured something else.

“Well it must be something beautiful, whatever it is you’re saying,” Viktor sighed wistfully.

“I’ll take two pork buns please,” Yuuri requested in Japanese.

“We should go back to the front desk and ask them what your room number is,” Viktor said, trying to pull Yuuri up with him.

“No, no, stay. Stay here. With me.”

He tugged Viktor back down and curled up in the crook of his shoulder. Viktor looked up and down the empty hallway and then at the painting across from them. It was a cheap rendering of the sea scape, one that Viktor was familiar with. He’d spent many a summer there as a child, when his parents were still together. If Viktor squinted it almost looked like the waves were moving.

“I don’t think I’ve been to the beach since I was a child,” Viktor said sadly.

He stretched out his hand to touch the oil, but being on the floor with a heavy weight against him all he could do was reach for something he’d never have. And just like that he suddenly felt sorry for himself. There were a lot of things others would get to experience that he never would. Yuuri let out a little snore, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he slept on. Viktor felt a pang of longing as he looked though his fingers at the shoreline.

“Ciao ciao, Viktor! I see you found my Yuuri! He doesn’t drink, but when he does, he is the life of the party, no?” Celestino said, stepping off the elevator and snapping Viktor out of his reverie.

Yuuri mumbled something in Japanese again as Viktor tried to rouse him.

“Thanks for looking after him, I’ve got it!”

Viktor watched Celestino pull Yuuri toward his room.

“Wait!” Viktor said and ran forward. He carefully slipped Yuuri’s glasses onto his face, pushing them up his nose with his index finger.  

He went back to his empty hotel room and lay in bed, but although he was exhausted, not only from the banquet but from the entire tournament, he couldn’t fall asleep. Viktor picked up his phone and flipped through the pictures, biting his lip as he laughed at Yuuri’s wild expression.

Coach, huh? He could do that. He’d be a good coach. A great coach!

With that thought he let himself drift off to sleep. It was only in the morning he realized he’d never given Yuuri his phone number.

[valkirsif]

Unthinkable CH 25/???

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word 3100

Warning nothing

The sun filtered through the curtains Y / N woke up hearing noises in the room, opened her eyes trying to figure out where they came from and saw Tom undressing,

"Morning my love," she said in a still sleepy voice, "What time is it?"

"Shhh it's early" the man replied moving the sheets, lying down next to her and hugging, "How hot you are" he whispered kissing her neck, the woman smiled hugging him,

"Oh Thomas" chirped, "you're so.. so.. wet .." laughed turning to look at him "Did you go running?" the man nodded, laughing,

"I was going to go to the shower" replied, continuing to kiss her, "Then I was attracted to a sleeping princess ..", Y/N slipped a leg on his hips, at that point she was very awake, the man's hands moved on her delicate skin, they looked at the passion he was about to take over when they were disturbed by the bell,

"Fuck but who is ringing the bell at 7 in the morning?" the woman said looking at the alarm clock, "We can pretend nothing happened .." smiled kissing him, ".. of not being at home", Tom laughed stroking her face,

"I'm afraid I can't be my queen," replied, "It's Elisabeth with your new wardrobe, I have to go and open.." he said, standing up and putting on the suit "..I prepare coffee while you put on something" bent over kissing her and went to open, Y/N sighed in flames put on robe and followed him. 

"Good morning Miss" the secretary's cheerful and professional voice received her from the landing, Y/N greeted and moved to let the bellboys pass, she didn't think had bought so many things, joined Tom in the kitchen and ate breakfast while on the floor superior Elisabeth arranged the wardrobe, 20 minutes later the girl knocked before entering the kitchen,

"I fixed wardrobe for color and occasion Miss," she said, "Luke will arrive at 9am tomorrow morning,"

"Do you have any commitments tomorrow?" the woman asked as soon as Elisabeth left,

"We have a commitment" replied Tom, "A radio interview, they want to know the woman who stole my heart", Y/N was lost in the blue of his eyes,

"Ok," replied, the man had mentioned something to her but decided not to panic before he had too many things to do, "Since we're on our feet, how about preparing and shopping?"

"Great idea Darling" Tom replied cheerfully, they got dressed and left the house, it was a beautiful sunny morning and it was pleasant to walk around the neighborhood shopping, a group of fans stopped them, the man smiled kindly took some pictures and signed autographs,

"Sorry it usually doesn't happen when I'm near home," said, taking her hand and walking towards a pastry shop.

"Thomas is always nice to see you with the fans, live is even better" laughed Y/N, they entered by ringing the bell an old lady greeted them smiling, Tom went around the counter and hugged her happy like a child,

"Darling, she's Aunt Jane," he introduced her, "It's a bit of everyone's aunt, I confess I came to hide here when I was in trouble," laughed,

"Welcome back Tommy and well come dear," said Jane smiling, "You're always the usual kid, you go on vacation and come back with girlfriend,"

Y/N laughed she would have liked to know how Tom was as a kid, Jane seemed to know a lot about him, the couple sat down at the table drinking tea and eating a cake,

"Jane this cake is delicious" said Y/N enjoying the strawberry and cream cake, "Thomas if we took this for dinner?"

"If it pleases you .." he replied, "I was looking forward to the tender .." looked at her sideways, the woman burst out laughing, shaking her head

"You really are a spoiled kid my king ..." said kissing him, "And tenerina it be",

the man smiled triumphantly, finished the snack, took everything necessary for the cake and went out, greeting Aunt Jane to finish the shopping, they passed in front of a florist where Tom took the bouquet he had prepared and put it in the woman's hand,

"Thomas are beautiful" chirped Y/N admiring the bouquet of heather and sunflowers, took the man by the arm and went home.

The woman went upstairs to change while Tom arranged the provisions, when entered the kitchen found him waiting for her with an apron on him and one in hand for her,

"Madame allows?" asked pompously, the woman laughed approaching,

"Please Monsieur," replied, letting her fasten apron, "I think I'll use you as an assistant, it's all too high for me."

"Your servant" he replied with a bow, "But first.." smiled, taking her by the hips and sitting on the table, ".. I think I'll kiss you" said taking her face in hands and kissing gently, Y/N ran hands through his hair, drawing it closer,

"You distract me sir.. I have a lot of things to do.." she whispered trying to stay clear,

"I beg your pardon ..." Tom answered putting her back to her feet, "... I'll be good, where do you want to start?"

"..Yes .. cut the vegetables into big pieces" Y/N said passing the knife before putting the sauce on and kneading the house smelled of food within an hour, the roast was browning in the oven and the lasagna they were only to cook the woman dedicated herself to the cake under the watchful eye of Tom who had sat down to study the script so as not to distract her too much,

"Thomas, can you get me a cake tin, please?" asked, gesturing to the top shelf, the man smiled and handed her the container and took the opportunity to kiss,

"When I watched you cook at Rice I often wondered what it meant to have someone preparing to eat with so much love here," said, squeezing her, "It's better than I imagined it," Y/N shook him excitedly,

"I love you" whispered in his arms, "Let's bake this wonder and relax before organizing the room",

the man took a bottle and they sat on the sofa, the woman wanted to know how it would take place the next day for everything was new she didn't want to risk making gaffes,

"More or less like for the charity evening, only this time you won't put yourself aside to wait" he laughed, "There will be a lot of people, usually the fans gather on these occasions",

"Maybe it's better when we arrive on the radio right now and I'll leave you with your armies " replied Y/N smiling, "Don't misunderstand me but as a fan I wouldn't want to have my idol's girlfriend at my feet,"

Tom looked at her sideways as if he didn't believe her,

"I don't really think about leaving you alone with the radio guys, I'm completely crazy it's too risky!" he laughed looking at her, "No, I don't want you next to me, don't discuss this," concluded seriously, smiled and gave her a shake of his head. , finished the glass and went to remove the cake from the oven, after all she was probably just afraid of the reaction of the people,

"My king, what do you say we prepare and we go to the shower?" she said, returning to the room where the man had preceded her, taking out plates and cutlery,

"You read me in the darling thought," he laughed, spread out the tablecloth and laid it out, the flowers had given served as the centerpiece with the candles beside it, the man's phone rang,

"Hey dude have you already arrived?" asked cheerfully, "..ok meanwhile I send the car to wait for you at the gate" greeted and closed the call, "They arrive in an hour, I warn the driver and I'll join you."

They showered calmly,

"Chris and Elsa stop for the night?" asked Y/N as he dried her hair, it was all day that he was provoking her and would not have resisted even the night without jumping on him,

"If it's not a problem for you, Elsa wants to go shopping before leaving for Madrid," he replied, moving her hair from neck and kissing, "They'll get dressed sooner," he said, smiling in the mirror, the woman staring at Tom's reflection she dressed, he was torturing on purpose she was sure of it now, put on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and went down, the man went into the kitchen to get a drink put the beer and the wine in an ice bucket and brought it in hall, Y/N checked that the dinner did not burn, was setting the grill when the bell rang, closed the oven and followed the cheerful voices to the dining room where Tom was busy with greetings,

"How can you be more beautiful every time I see you?" Tom was saying embracing Chris's wife,

"Thomas you are the usual gentleman" laughed Elsa. "Where did you hide your beauty?" said, loosening the embrace and looking around, Y/N approached the guests smiling

"Welcome," she said cheerfully, Elsa went to meet her, embracing,

"Chris didn't tell me she was beautiful," said to her husband, "It's a real delight hermana," she laughed,

"It's a pleasure for me too, it's nice to have you here," said Y/N, responding to the hug, put on the tips to greet Chris, "It's a pleasure to see you again",

"Nice to see you dressed Y/N" he whispered, the woman didn't know if he was serious or joking, broke the embrace and turned to Tom who handed her a glass,

"Make the boys your own home," the man said as he greeted Elsa, "I hope you are hungry, Y/N has prepared a lot of food,"

"Speaking of food, I'm going to check that you don't burn everything," said Y/N, getting up and going to the kitchen followed by Elsa

"There is a delicious scent," said, placing her glass on the counter and opening the oven, "Italian cuisine?"

"I didn't want to risk poisoning everyone with recipes I don't know," laughed Y/N taking dishes and cutlery, "I hope you like it"

"I am Spanish at my house. I eat Italian quite often," replied, removing the pan from the oven, "and these lasagna look very good," laughed, helping Y/N to serve,

"How are you in the new life?" Elsa asked, "Sorry I didn't want to be bothered," said looking at her, Y/N smiled,

"I continue to find everything absurd, the people who stop him in the street.." replied Y/N, ".. I found myself slammed on social media without realizing it while we were shopping", they talked for a few minutes she liked Elsa was cheerful and sunny, "It will take time to get used to it, tomorrow we will make the first public release I am really nervous"

"I can only advise you to enjoy it, I can't tell you that I know how you feel, I already had my career and my fans when I met Chris but it was still strange when we came out into the open" Elsa laughed giving her a nudge with shoulder, Y/N replied laughing

"What should I wear? I have a wardrobe full of things and I have no ideas," the woman asked,

"Put something that makes you feel good, for example at interviews I always wear the same jewels because they make me feel beautiful" Elsa replied, "Everyone has lucky charm" laughed,

"We thought you fell into the oven" Chris's voice made her turn,

"We arrive querido" said Elsa sending him a kiss, the women looked at each other laughing and brought the dinner to the table.

They chatted merrily talking more than anything about work, soon they would leave to continue filming in the studios,

"Did they finish the jobs in the garden in the new house?" asked Tom opening the wine,

"Fortunately yes, the house is now as perfect as Elsa likes it," laughed Chris,

"I didn't expect perfection, but I could use the pool," replied the woman. "You'll spend a lot of time there, I'd like to enjoy the house as much as possible when I come to see you."

"I didn't expect to get out of the bedroom when you're here" he replied slyly kissing her, they were so in love you could see a mile away, Y/N turned to Tom who was staring at him and smiled complicitly

"I hope you have room for dessert," she said, standing up, "Thomas, do you take away the dishes in the meantime?"

"At the orders of Darling," the man replied, kissing her hand as she passed by and reaching her in the kitchen while the woman was turning out the cake, put the plates down and went over and touched her hips,

"Exquisite dinner my queen and the cake looks gorgeous," whispered, kissing her neck,

"Thomas give me raspberries and cream please.." smiled turning and putting hands in the man's back pockets, ".. and could I even have a kiss?", the man smiled at her, taking face in his hands and  kissed her gently

"It's not good to leave guests alone for too long"

"I know," replied the woman, drawing him to her, "They can be without us a couple of minutes,"  coaxed, rubbing head on his neck,

"Looking for trouble, little temptress?" he asked in a deep voice, leaning against her, Y/N meowed a "maybe" before kissing him and leaving,

"Ok I'll do the good, bring the dessert to the table" surrendered taking the plate and returning to the room followed by Tom,

"I haven't eaten this cake in years!" Elsa said enthusiastically, "As a kid she was one of my favorites",

"Do you already know her?" replied Y/N in amazement, she didn't think anyone outside of Italy knew,

"My uncle married an Italian woman, she always made it when we went to visit them, what good memories!",

"You should hear the cinnamon rolls you made at the camp, they were incredible" laughed Chris, "After some nights they put you back into the world" he winked, Y/N laughed nervously did he really think there was something between her and Evans? remembered when he found her in panties in the kitchen and Evans coming out of the shower not exactly dressed, anyone would have misunderstood the situation, finished dinner and moved to the sofa for coffe

"I'll join you right away, I'll call Rice," the woman said, taking the phone, "Hey Lucifer,"  began cheerfully when his friend replied, "Disturbed?"

"Poppy never disturbs, how does the evening proceed?"

"All right, Elsa is fantastic.."

"Mmm if it is true why do you have that tone?" Rice replied with little conviction, Y/N smiled to himself, he knew her so well that there was no need for preamble,

".. Chris.. well he looks at me strange and continues to make jokes about when we met, it seems that he doesn't believe what I feel for Tom .." she said all in one breath, Rice was silent for a second,

"Why do you say so?" he sked, "Even a blind person would see how much you are in love"

"I think I made a bad impression of him when we met on the set.." she began to tell,

"Don't tell me you jumped naked for the captain's camper!" Rise concluded, bursting out laughing

"..I wasn't really naked.. in panties here, he caught me preparing breakfast, Sassy joined us wearing only a towel and kissed me like it was the most natural thing in the world.." she finished telling,

"I understand the problem, the fact that you do not give weight to certain things does not mean that others do not notice them" the friend said seriously, "And anyway you should really stop feeling so at ease when you are at home with strangers or at least first check that the doors are locked” he concluded, the woman would have liked to argue that she was not from a stranger but did not want to touch that key, sooner or later Rice would have understood for himself that Evans was not a threat to their relationship limited herself to greeting his friend and returning to the others, they remained talking until late at night,

"We'd better go to bed tomorrow, we have an intense morning," Tom said, standing up and holding out his hand to Y/N to help, the couples headed upstairs.

"I set the alarm at 7.30" said Tom lying down next to her and drawing to him, "Perfect evening, Elsa adores you but I had no doubts" laughed kissing her head, Y/N smiled tightly at him wanted to talk to about her concerns knew where to start,

"I'm glad dinner was enjoyed, I also like Elsa very much, Italians and Spaniards are alike in character” smiled, “Chris told you about when we met?” she asked while was getting ready, “Tonight's jokes I think I don't like him..” she stopped talking when Tom bursts ridere laughing, “Thomas stop fooling me I'm serious” she said piqued,

"Excuse me darling," he replied, trying to stop, "He told me found you half naked in the kitchen and you ran off to get dressed before he could show up.." paused and the woman stiffened , he knew she was sure of it, ".. don't tell me you're worried because he saw you kissing the captain?!" he stepped away from her to stare confused, "It would be absurd, as if you were having trouble kissing Sammy, I know you Y/N and I love you for what you are" stroked her face, "Or was that kiss something more?" he concluded looking at her seriously, now she was confused,

"Thomas I love you so much, I'm sorry I raised the question but from us if a woman who is engaged or married kisses a man who is not his partner, he immediately goes to be a slut," she explained, relieved, "Most males are not so evolved from understand the difference" she put on an elbow to look at it better," I left my country, my house and my job just to be with you, this should answer your question ", the man burst out laughing again, took her face in his hands and kissed,

"Chris teased you, when he saw how you reacted to breakfast after my arrival he realized that there was nothing between you and Evans" he smiled, "Now it will be better to rest, Luke is always on time", clasped her to his chest and they fell asleep.

[njawaidofficial]

'North by Northwest Review: 1959 Movie

http://styleveryday.com/2017/07/18/north-by-northwest-review-1959-movie/

'North by Northwest Review: 1959 Movie

8:30 AM PDT 7/17/2017 by THR Staff

In July 1959, Alfred Hitchcock unveiled his latest suspense thriller, North by Northwest, in theaters. The film, starring Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, was nominated for three Oscars at the 32nd Academy Awards. The Hollywood Reporter‘s original review is below.

A packed audience at the preview loved every cliff-hanging moment of this Alfred Hitchcock thriller. Basically, it’s another cloak-and-dagger chase and, for the most part, it is done with tongue-in-cheek. But Hitchcock is such a master of suspense that not many frames have passed before the audience has achieved complete identification with the characters and is knowing the thrill of vicarious fear and the shared pleasures of love and passion. The story may not be real but Hitchcock makes it seem real. 

Of course, Hitchcock doesn’t achieve this triumph entirely by himself. Cary Grant, as a glib Madison Avenue huckster, mistaken for a Central Intelligence agent by a group of Iron Curtain spies, is simply great. He delivers a marvelous series of close-ups when the heavies, after forcing a bottle of bourbon down his throat, place him in a Mercedes convertible and head him for a cliff. Struggling with double vision and drunkenness — with eyes now bugged out with horror and now drooping and glazed, he gets a laugh and a shriek out of every grimace.

Later, while standing alone and forlorn on a bleak, and seemingly limitless Indiana prairie, he keeps you enthralled by doing nothing at all. Still later, while endeavoring to dodge an airplane that is dusting crops with a poisonous spray, he arouses more fear than a dozen movie Joan of Arcs being burned at the stake.

The women will be attracted to him every minute, particularly in a hospital scene when he strides about clad only in a bath towel. Patricia Cutts gets the biggest of the many laughs in the film with a two-word part. She’s a hospital patient. When Grant sneaks through her room, she yells “Stop!” (in a voice that means “Stop!”). Then she puts on her glasses, takes a good look at him and says, “Stop?” (in a voice that means “Don’t stop”). 

Hitchcock takes Eva Marie Saint (hitherto mostly cast as a waif type) and turns her into an ice-covered volcano in the love passages. By endowing her with a beckoning almost unattainable glamour, he’s done for her what he did for Grace Kelly in Rear Window and Dial M for Murder. “It’s much better than flying,” Grant murmurs on one occasion when coming out of her arms. Throughout the script, Ernest Lehman has supplied the stars with a series of scintillating and unstrained-for bright lines. 

The plot evolves from the efforts of C.I.A. chief (Leo G. Carroll) to force the hand of a group of enemy agents by placing a mythical “Mr. Caplan” on their trail. Hotel rooms are booked for “Mr. Caplan” wherever the spies are known to be active and luggage is placed in them. The espionage chief (James Mason) rises to the bait by having “Mr. Caplan” paged at New York’s Plaza Hotel (all settings in the picture are authentic locations). By coincidence, Grant speaks to the paging bellboy and is caught up and involved in a fight for life with shadowy forces. At times everyone thinks he is crazy but, like Hamlet, he is “but mad north-north-west”; when the wind is southerly he knows “a hawk from a handsaw.” 

The chase takes him to the UN where a man (Philip Ober) is murdered. A fugitive aboard the Twentieth Century Limited, Grant explains his ducking of the cops to the suspiciously sympathetic Miss Saint by saying “Seven parking tickets.” There’s more turning and twisting at Chicago’s La Salle Street station where Grant astounds the men’s room by shaving with Miss Saint’s tiny feminine razor. The final showdown occurs on Mt. Rushmore with good guys and bad guys pursuing each other over Borglum’s gigantic sculptured features of four presidents. 

Hitchcock’s storytelling supplies a number of devices that could be studied with advantage by students of screen literature. He lets the audience in on the fact that there is no “Mr. Caplan” at the precise moment when it is getting tired of being bewildered. Stressing human values rather than gimmicks, he doesn’t introduce the “weenie” (a ceramic figure containing microfilm) until the latter part of the picture. By letting us see a minor heavy (Adam Williams) drawing on a pair of black gloves, he alerts us to the fact a crime is contemplated without disclosing its nature. Only after Ober has done a terrific laugh-getting takeum in the midst of a normal conversation does the camera pull back to reveal that a knife has been thrown into his back. Another offbeat note is struck by giving the hero a bird-brained gold-digging mother (portrayed with fine superficiality by Jessie Royce Landis). 

The photography by Robert Burks and the special effects by A. Arnold Gillespie and Lee LeBlanc are outstanding, especially in the prairie sequences. George Tomasini’s editing of the chase on Mt. Rushmore also is tops. So is Bernard Herrmann’s score. This film is pure entertainment. — Jack Moffitt, originally published on June 30, 1959

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#Movie #North #Northwest #Review

[bffhreprise]

Entry 157

 The convention was lovely.  If I had an ounce less self-control, I would have humiliated myself greatly, shouting out with the rest of the rabble at various booths.  There were many wonderful things to be found in this place, such as unique stuffed animals, anime, and numerous video games.  I pursed my lips as I thought of how few games I played lately outside of Ancient Tribes of Earth.  Aaliyah outdid herself with that particular game.  I worried at her having dominated the market, knowing what she was.  Could she actually enjoy gaming?  I severely doubted it.  When the day came to an end, I made sure everyone was gathered to head back to the hotel.  We couldn’t afford any injuries this weekend, not with us performing each day… not with Aaliyah having a contract over us.

 Most of the group departed once we reached the top floor, having taken two lifts, but Aaliyah hit the button for the ground floor before James and I departed.  What was she doing this time?  Ah.  There was a man delivering pizzas.  We’d simply look ridiculous attempting to carry that many, but that could easily be avoided quite easily.

 I felt James turn his eyes to me just as I was pointing at the bellboy.  He watched as I gave instructions for a trolley to be brought.  Was he watching me clean it as well?  Cleaning in plain view required subtle magic, carefully planned and executed.  James seemed to ignore the actual spell, despite my efforts to perform it slowly.  His eyes were fixed on me until the pizza was handed over to him.  We waited for the delivery driver to grab the rest, heading back up after our trolley was full.  The smell of our dinner was absolutely divine.

 While we had been detained downstairs, the others had slipped into pajamas ad were now lounging in front of the telly.  I would have to discuss Ai and Mai’s choice of pajamas with them later.  I knew those two were interested in Jarod, but those tops were simply too low-cut to be worn in front of others.  I restrained a sigh.  They wouldn’t listen.  I wasted my breath on them many times in regard to fashion, but they insisted on “fitting in”, despite the obvious expense of their clothes.  I created a spell to summon a box of pizza and two-liter of fizzy drink while I arranged my laptops.  James was watching me again.

 “What?” I asked, creating ice cubes from the water in the air.

 James seemed distracted by the feat.  I would gladly demonstrate for him if he ever wished to learn.

 “Sorry.  I just figured you’d be joining us.” he confessed, sounding disappointed.

 I was tempted.  I knew I could push things off again, but neglect always caused problems.  There would be missed deadlines, sneakier types attempting to slip by me, and missed opportunities.  No, I mustn’t allow myself to slack off with the rest.

 “Though this is a pleasant diversion, I still must do work.  Don’t worry.  I can see the telly perfectly fine from here.” I told him, trying to reassure him without falling to temptation.

 The idea of abandoning my work to sit next to James and watch whatever might be displayed for us grew stronger in my mind as he nodded, looking disappointed.

 “Boss-man, sir!  You can’t eat yet!  Go get changed, so we can start the movie!” commanded Aaliyah.

 “I thought I might eat first.  I’m rather hungry.” he replied.

 “You’ll last another minute, boss-man, sir.  Don’t risk getting your costume dirty.  I worked sooo hard making it.” she insisted.

 I knew Aaliyah was perfectly aware of how easily the twins or I could clean an outfit, so she was simply making excuses for him to depart for the moment, unless she actually worried over his comfort.  Unlikely.  Still, James nodded and went to his room.  I did my best to ignore him changing, but I couldn’t help being aware of each movement as he took off his shirt.  Fearing I might blush, I started working in earnest, trying to be distracted.

 I was thankful when James had finished, but I was too aware of him looking at me.  I wasn’t being indecent.  I couldn’t help my abilities.  I tried willing myself not to blush.  James didn’t seem to notice if I did, and I allowed myself a small sigh of relief when he turned to sit with the others.

 “Are you staying like that for the entire weekend?” questioned James as he looked to Brandon.

 “Huh?  Oh.” Brandon dumbly replied.  “Yeah.  Aaliyah pointed out that with all the cameras down there, someone could notice if I screwed up the shape a bit.  This is just safer.”

 I actually believed he would be fine.  Brandon showed remarkable skill at his shapechanging.  I wouldn’t have believed he could pull off switching genders had I not seen it, but I did notice that he could precisely resume forms he had used before.  If only he shared in his sister’s ability to alter her pigmentation, he would make a fantastic spy, despite his… other limitations.

 Iron Man started playing, and I assumed Aaliyah had somehow hacked into the telly or the hotel’s feed.  I had no other explanation as to how she could simply press a button on her phone and instantly get the precise film she wanted from the top.  With anyone else, I might consider luck, such as turning on a telly and happening to find a film one enjoyed starting, but she always planned.

 The second film started immediately after the credits of the first were skipped, confirming my suspicions.  Furthermore, I was making great progress with work.  I might well finish before morning, finish what I deemed most demanding at least.  There was always more work.

 Too many people started dozing during the second film.  When it concluded, I said, “Off to bed.”

 “Couldn’t we just…” started Ai, her head resting on Jarod’s shoulder.

 Interrupting her, I stated “No.  There is no justification for piling together for sleep when perfectly adequate sleeping accommodations have been made for everyone.  Such behavior would be highly improper.”

 Mai had the audacity to make a face, though she at least had the good sense not to aim it in my direction.  I worried over the affect the U.S. was having on those two, but I couldn’t bring myself to send them away either.  Even I needed company at times.

 I intercepted Portentia as she went toward the bedroom, knowing she was certainly not going to pretend to sleep.  Not being able to stop her with a word was most inconvenient, but no one would be foolish enough to tell me I took too long in responding.

 <Where do you think you’re going?> I asked her, signing instead of speaking.

 <Patrolling.  Someone might need help out there, and the others need sleep.> she replied.

 I quickly told her <Absolutely not.  You do, of course, realize there are security cameras as well as staff that might note your departure.  You must at least attempt to show discretion with your nightly activities, especially when being employed through James’ company to be here.  Getting yourself into trouble with the police would be bad enough, but besmirching his name cannot be tolerated.>

 Hours passed as I continued working.  Thankfully, Portentia didn’t attempt to go out again.  She really was a good girl, despite her peculiar view on life.  I understood to a degree how her uniqueness set her apart.  Without my family, I might well have sought trouble as she did, but I would hope that I still would have the good sense to keep others out of it.

 I was surprised when James woke.  Was he having difficulty sleeping?  Oh.  Of course.  I quickly sought a few extra things to do as he made his way toward the lavatory, wanting to be as unaware as possible of what came next.

 When he was finished, he was apparently drawn to the light, seeming surprised that some of us were awake.  Ai and Mai had joined Portentia by the telly nearly an hour ago.  He gave us a wave before making his way back to bed.

 I considered what a life with him could be like embarrassingly often.  There was a great gap between our abilities, but I never felt like this toward anyone before, not even close.  I couldn’t say that things would certainly work, but I wanted to try if he was willing.  Adelmar wasn’t precisely against it.  James’ magical abilities were unique and highly valuable to our family, assuming they could be passed along to his children.

 Children… I could easily see myself as a mother someday, but I worried over how well James could be a father.  There was a great deal of history on the matter where my family was concerned.  The relation between the human parent and the offspring was often strained, but James’ magic would surely influence his children as well.  He just wouldn’t be able to keep up with them.  The idea was a tad depressing, but I couldn’t shake the thoughts as I continued to work.

 By morning, I found a modicum of peace again, having thought through the countless stories I read.  There were cases where things went fine.  Aside from his magic, James was a spectacular person, capable of winning over people with charm that was quite mundane.  He also demonstrated a good mind when pressed to use it.  As for the trials, I had some plans for those as well.

 Breakfast was quite delicious and started before everyone was even up.  I refrained from laughing when the twins sent water washing over James that they had obviously intended for Jarod.

 “James!  Get out of the way.” commanded one of them.

 “Is Jarod up yet?” asked the other.

 I had lost track of which was which earlier, but I couldn’t let them know.  I’d just avoid using their names again.

 “Yes, he’s up.” replied James, apparently unperturbed by the sudden dousing and drying.

 As James came to the table, I said, “Please, do join us.  Did you rest well?”  I already knew he had been… restless, having been unable to ignore him entirely throughout the night.

 “I slept fine.  Thank you.” he told me, not looking up.

 He seemed troubled as he loaded his plate with food.

 Aaliyah deftly stole one of his sausages as she said, “Boss-man, sir, are you not feeling well?  There’s hardly anything on your plate!”

 Emma then stole one of his pancakes and told him “Well, you can’t go back to bed.  We’ll need you out there, even if you’re delusional!”

 James rolled his eyes but looked confused for a moment as he stared at the spot where a roll had sat before I had claimed it with a spell.

 “I believe you mean ‘hallucinating’.  He’ll be fine, I’m sure.” I teased.

 He looked at me in time to see his breakfast roll dividing on my plate through another spell.  His amused expression was priceless.  The day was off to a good start.