#He is described as being serious and rarely talks or smiles

[blackrayser-fr]

Seth #78567519, Thoroneh's right-hand man💀

[eiralunaire]

Damian Wayne x fem!Reader.

Warning: Soft, fluff.

It was one of those rare quiet afternoons at Wayne Manor, the kind of day that Damian didn't quite know how to handle. While he was focused on his training routine, Reader appeared with her typical bright energy, this time with a notebook and pen in her hands. She sat on the couch next to him, crossing her legs with a mischievous smile.

Damian raised an eyebrow at her, wiping the sweat from his forehead after a series of agile movements with his training sword.

“And now what are you planning?” she asked, in a tone that tried to sound indifferent, but clearly denoted curiosity. With Reader, there was always something unpredictable.

“Nothing you have to worry about, my beloved boyfriend,” she replied with a charming smile, as she opened her notebook and began to write something that Damian didn't see.

“Reader,” he said, this time a little more serious, “what are you doing?”

“Oh, just a little survey,” she replied, balancing the pen between her fingers. “I want to know what you think your best quality is. As a boyfriend… and as a person.”

Damian was silent for a moment, clearly taken aback. He was used to dealing with complicated questions and physical challenges, but this… this was something else. Talking about himself in terms of qualities wasn’t something he considered necessary. Much less as a boyfriend.

“That’s… unnecessary,” he muttered, refocusing his gaze on the sword he was carefully placing back on its shelf. But Reader didn’t let him off that easy. She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee, notebook open and pen ready to jot down notes.

“Well, Damian. I want to know what you think of yourself,” she said softly, though her insistent tone made it clear: she wasn’t going to let the subject drop.

Damian crossed his arms, watching Reader with a mix of curiosity and resignation. It wasn’t the first time she had challenged him in this way, and deep down, he knew she would end up giving in.

“My best quality?” she repeated, as if trying those words would buy her time. “I guess I’m loyal. I wouldn’t betray someone I consider important.”

Reader smiled, calmly writing in his notebook and marking a check mark next to the word “loyal” that was already written on the page. Damian, oblivious to what was going on in the notebook, continued.

“And I’m… efficient. I always complete what I start.”

She nodded as she made another mark on her list, now next to “disciplined.” Her smile widened even more, but she tried to remain serious so as not to interrupt Damian’s flow of thoughts.

“As a boyfriend,” he continued after a brief pause, clearly struggling a bit with the awkwardness of describing himself, “I guess… I’m protective. I take care of you.”

Reader tried not to laugh, because of course that was on her list too. She ticked off another point with her check mark, making sure Damian didn’t notice her movements too much.

“Protective, loyal, disciplined,” she repeated, nodding as she mentally reviewed her list. He had hit exactly the points she had already noted. But at that moment, she decided to push a little further, to see if he was aware of something deeper.

“And what about… your ability to be vulnerable?” she asked, looking up at him with a more serious expression. Damian frowned, clearly not expecting that direction.

“Vulnerable isn’t exactly a quality I value,” he replied, a slight stiffness in his voice.

“But it is,” Reader insisted softly. “Because with me, you are. Sometimes you don’t notice it, but you are. When you let me see that side of you that others don’t, when you let your guard down. “That’s a beautiful quality, Damian, and not everyone is capable of it.

Damian was silent for a long moment. It wasn’t easy for him to process that idea, let alone admit it. But Reader didn’t expect him to say it out loud. She simply smiled, writing one last mark on her notebook, this time next to “capable of being vulnerable,” a quality she had added even before he mentioned it.

Finally, Damian spoke, though his tone was lower.

“I don’t know if I would call it a quality… but if it is for you, then it’s okay.”

Reader smiled tenderly, closing the notebook and putting the pen aside before standing up. She walked up to him and, without another word, wrapped her arms around his neck in a gentle hug.

“It is, and it is for me,” she murmured, resting her forehead against his. Damian, though he didn't respond immediately, let the moment linger, wrapping his arms around her waist, allowing himself, at least for a moment, to accept what Reader saw in him.

[gilmore-angel]

everything has changed | aaron hotchner x reader

swiftmas ♱ heyyy.... so this is super late😬. I am now on break so hopefully the future ones will be on time💋

summary ♱ working at a daycare has its perks, a big one being a certain single dad.

warnings ♱ awkward flirting, my lack of understanding how daycares are run, ooc aaron probably cause I haven't watched this show in forever

swiftmas ♱ navigation ♱ follow my library account @baysfics to see when I post!

loud. if you had to use one word to describe your job it would be loud. you of course loved your work, but being completely overwhelmed has become a normal thing.

the end of the day was always the hardest. trying to gather all of the kids items, putting shoes on, getting through checkout, and cleaning up afterwards.

one little boy in particular however made your job a bit easier. Jack Hotchner, an adorable three year old, was polite, well behaved, and sweet. his father, aaron hotchner, was serious but seemed nice.

all you new about him was he worked a lot, and rarely was the one to pick jack up. 90% of the time it was his aunt to come pick him up.

but today was different. when your coworker said jacks parent was here for pickup you help his little winter coat on and backpack and walked with him to the front desk for checkout.

there stood arron, dressed in his usual black suit. his jet black hair was shiny and put together like always. his blank almost cold expression shifted to a much happier one when he saw jack running towards him.

the little boy hugged his father's legs in greeting, receiving a hug in return. you smile as you walk up to aaron and pass him the drawing jack made in class today.

"jack wanted to make sure u gave this to you," aaron smiles softly and takes it, looking over the two little stick figures playing in the snow, representing them.

he glances back up at you, nodding once at you, "thank you. youre jacks main teacher, correct?"

his voice sounding so clear is surprising to you. the most you heard from him was a quiet goodmorning or bye. you would see him mutter words to jack, but they were only for jack to here. the fact he talked to you at all was completely out of the norm.

you feel your cheeks heat up, suddenly realizing now that you have to speak directly to him how handsome he really is.

you smile softly and nod, "yes, I am." you realize too late how awkward you sound.

he nods, reaching out his hand to shake yours, "jack talks about you a lot. you seem to be his favorite here."

your heart swells at that, knowing jack was your favorite too. your heart also skips a beat at the feeling of shaking his hand. his skin is rough, yet his touch is gentle.

"thats so sweet. he brings you up a ton too." your hand drops back to your side and you fiddle with your jeans, suddenly feeling very flustered, a butterfly party happening in your tummy.

he smiles, a bit brighter now. he picks up his son, who is growing more and more tired by the second. he glances away before meeting your eyes again. "I uh, I appreciate all you do for my son. I work a lot out of state so, knowing my son has a good place to go is uh, comforting."

your smile widens, and you chuckle softly, "it my pleasure. he's a great kid."

you both continue to hold eye contact, your breathing calming a bit. he has kind eyes. tired ones, yes, but kind. he finally breaks the little bit of silence by clearing his throat, glancing down.

"well uh, we should be heading out. thank you again." before you can speak again he walks out, son in his arms.

even after he has disappeared from your eye site, you continue to stand and tare at where he was. you almost feel giddy, like a teenager who just met their new crush. you snap out of your daze when you realize you still need to help with checkout. you quickly get back to it, but can't help but thinking that everything has changed.

[bupia]

Silent bonds: Papa Emeritus II x AFAB!Reader (4 Chapters in 1 Post)

Summary: You and Secondo have shared a lasting friendship since he became the Papa Emeritus II. As he immerses himself in preparations for an impending date, latent feelings begin to surface, raising the question of whether your relationship can evolve beyond friendship.

Words: 26.401

Warnings: Light Angst (insecurity) | Fluff | Smut (teasing; cunnilingus; fingering; oral sex; dirty talk; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding) | Italian swearing | Swearing | Reader is described as AFAB, but "Deacon" is used as Gender Neutral term.

Available on AO3 divided by 4 Chapters

A rhythmic knock resonated through the door connecting your office to the Papa's, drawing your attention away from the papers on your desk. Given the hour, it wasn't unexpected for him to seek you out for more tasks or discussions. With a deep breath, you acknowledged the familiar sound with a smile, allowing yourself a brief stretch to ease the tension in your back and eyes.

"Enter," you uttered, rising from your chair.

Upon the door's creaking open, he peered into your cabinet, scanning the space until his eyes rested on you. Secondo, the Papa Emeritus II from the Ministry where you worked as a Deacon, had been a close friend for many years. While others might find the idea of being friends with Secondo peculiar, you saw nothing odd about it. Being his friend wasn't strange; it was a privilege. Secondo was sweet, funny, caring, a bit of a teaser, and remarkably intelligent. People often mistook him for someone serious, devoid of humor, or as someone who seldom smiled, but you knew better. The Secondo you were friends with was far from those misconceptions.

Yet, today, something felt different. Typically, a smile would grace his lips when his eyes met yours upon entering your cabinet. As he stepped inside, you circled your table, coming to a stop with one hand on the desk and the other on your waist, observing him approaching. Without a word, he slumped into one of the chairs facing your desk. A silent chuckle escaped you as you turned towards him. No words were necessary; a tilt of your head conveyed the inquiry, prompting him to throw his head back in annoyance, the frustration evident in the sound he made.

"So...?" A soft chuckle escaped you as you playfully nudged his calf with your foot, prompting him to lift his head and meet your gaze.

Secondo settled more comfortably into the chair, offering you a small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "I won't forgive you for not showing up," he muttered, a trace of annoyance in his tone.

You gasped, mockingly placing a hand over your chest. "How dare you?"

"No, how dare you not come," he retorted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Someone has to do the important work," you teased, smirking.

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a smirk. "And I suppose that someone is you, sì?"

You grinned, meeting his gaze. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps," he repeated with a nod.

You leaned against the edge of your desk, crossing your arms. "How was the lunch?"

"Same as usual, Deacon. Endless discussions about the future of the Ministry. Nothing out of the ordinary," he sighed.

"And what about the Clergy today?"

"The Clergy... quegli sciocchi vecchi uomini," he grumbled, frustration etching lines on his face. "You really can't keep skipping the lunch meetings."

A defiant smirk played on your lips as you replied, "Oh, I can, and I will. None of them can utter a single objection, and I'll make sure of it."

Secondo's lips curled into a wry smile, a certain amusement glinting in his eyes as he listened to your words. It reminded you of the times he had praised your steadfast demeanor, expressing his admiration for how you refused to be intimidated, especially by the imposing figures of the Clergy. He had commended your ability to wield your authority confidently, acknowledging the power you held and the way you wielded it.

"Your defiance is a rare trait," Secondo remarked, his tone a mix of approval and amusement.

You chuckled, appreciating Secondo's words. "Well, I learned from the best," you quipped, giving him a sly look.

Secondo's laughter resonated, and he nodded in agreement. He shifted his gaze to a distant corner, his eyes taking on a contemplative expression as if lost in thought. "Ah!" Secondo exclaimed, a sudden realization lighting up his features.

"What!?"

Rising from the chair, Secondo turned toward the door. "Follow me to my office."

Following Secondo, you walked toward the door linking your cabinet to his office. As the Deacon of the Ministry, your closer collaboration with him was an unspoken privilege. However, he'd never admit to such favoritism, even to you. Your role as a Deacon involved working closely with higher-ranking members, including the Papa Emeritus, to implement organizational goals and initiatives.

Your role within the Ministry was multifaceted, blending administrative prowess with a deep understanding of the sacred rituals and traditions. Your responsibilities extended beyond mere paperwork, delving into the intricacies of maintaining the Ministry's sanctity and efficiency. With each document meticulously scrutinized, you ensured that the delicate balance between tradition and progress was upheld. Your work bore the weight of the Ministry's legacy, and you navigated through the bureaucracy with the precision of a seasoned diplomat.

At least, that was the explanation Secondo would offer to anyone questioning potential privileges, underlining the professional nature of your connection.

Reaching for the door, Secondo stood beside it, gesturing for you to enter his office. With a nod of gratitude, you stepped inside, and he followed, leaving the door ajar. Moving from behind you, Secondo approached his desk, while you stood closer to the door, observing him as he sifted through folders atop his desk.

"More work for me?" you inquired with curiosity.

"I'm afraid so," he replied. "I need you to wrap up those files for the upcoming ritual."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, stepping closer to his desk, hands tucked behind your back. "Of course, Papa."

"We've talked about this; stop calling me Papa," he said, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "Papa is reserved for public moments. You know I'm fine with you using my name when it's just us, as we always have."

"Alright," you said, bringing your hands to rest on his desk, leaning slightly. "Se-con-do," you playfully spelled out his name, causing him to huff, and you suppressed a silent giggle.

"That's better," he said, extending a folder towards you.

"Is it?" you asked, with a mocking tone.

"The folder," he reminded, gesturing with the document in his hand.

"For when do you need those?" you inquired, your fingers lightly tapping on the edge of his desk.

"Tonight would be ideal," he said, glancing up at you. "We need everything in order before the Clergy starts poking their noses where they don't belong."

"I'll ensure everything is organized," you started. "But, can't it be for tomorrow morning, Papa?"

"Pasticcina..." he uttered your nickname with a serious tone. He didn't use it often, but when he did, there were hidden meanings, and you had grown accustomed to interpreting them based on the tone he employed.

"Fine," you replied, turning your back and making your way back to your cabinet. The sound of him clearing his throat halted your steps, prompting you to turn back. "Yes?"

He met your gaze. "I know you'll finish those tonight. If there's someone who can do it, that one is you, sì?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Of course, Pa-pa," you lingered on his title, relishing the pronunciation, before stepping back into your cabinet and closing the door behind you.

You returned to your desk, knowing that the remainder of the afternoon would be consumed by the documents from the folder he had given you. Yet, it was within the scope of your duties at the Ministry, so there was no room for complaints. Besides, you were assisting a friend, and that fact alone made the task more bearable.

Placing the folder on your desk, you sighed as you glanced at the other ones you had already started reading and organizing. It promised to be a long afternoon. With a deliberate exhale, you settled into your chair, redirecting your attention to the documents you were checking before Secondo entered your cabinet. Determination fueled your focus as you aimed to complete them before tackling the new files he had entrusted to you.

As the hours passed, the ambient light in your office shifted from the warm glow of the afternoon to the subdued hues of evening. The rhythmic tick of the clock on your wall was a steady companion as you delved into the complexities of your tasks. Lost in the labyrinth of paperwork, you were only stirred by the soft knock on your door linked to Secondo's office.

You raised your head to look at the door, and the realization that night had settled outside your window dawned upon you. You sighed, feeling the strain in your shoulders, and stretched your back, the subtle crackle providing momentary relief, before rubbing your eyes.

"Come in," you said with a tired voice, followed by a yawn.

As the door opened, Secondo stepped inside, his discerning eyes catching the subtle signs of your diligence. You smiled at him, leaning back in your chair. You noticed he had already discarded his Papa robes, now wearing only his customary full black outfit underneath. Like you, his expression, though obscured by the skull face paint, hinted at weariness.

Closing the door behind him, Secondo made his way to your desk, and your eyes followed his steps through the cabinet until he reached for the chair he had occupied earlier that afternoon. With a deep breath, he settled into the seat.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the scattered papers.

"Just a momentary break," you replied, offering a weary but genuine smile.

Secondo reached for the folders on your desk, his fingers tracing the edges as he inquired, "Did you manage to finish it?"

"I did," you replied, a note of accomplishment in your voice. "Not only that, but I also finished the files you handed me this morning," you held out the organized folders, presenting them to Secondo.

His eyes narrowed slightly, with surprise and approval. "Impressionante," he remarked, taking the folders from you and deftly opening one to inspect the documents.

"It's my duty, Secondo," you responded.

He hummed in appreciation. "Can I ask you one more thing before you go?" Secondo's gaze met yours, a request lingering in his eyes.

You nodded.

"Would you..." His words trailed off as he diverted his gaze for a moment, a subtle hint of hesitation tainting his expression.

"Assist you with a new speech for the ritual?" you asked.

"No, I..." he started and sighed. "I have a date," he casually revealed.

"What?" your voice betrayed with surprise and disbelief. "When?"

"In some few days," Secondo sighed, his gaze momentarily distant as if contemplating his own decision. "I decided to... try something different," he admitted, his voice carrying a tinge of mystery and a hint of reluctance.

You arched an eyebrow, sensing the unusual weight behind his words. "Different? A date?" you teased.

"It's not a usual occurrence for me, as you well know," he grunted, a faint annoyance lingering in his expression. "Call it a whim, if you will. Just don't make it more than it is," Secondo glanced at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "It's just a dinner."

"Just dinner?" you repeated, eyebrows raised. "You're being unusually vague, Secondo."

He shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "I don't want to overthink it. It's just dinner, nothing more."

You tilted your head, studying him. "What did you need my help with?" you inquired.

He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up with a nonchalant air. "I just need some advice on conversation topics, maybe some dating tips; for now," he explained, a touch of vulnerability beneath his usual composed demeanor.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "The great Secondo, seeking dating advice? Now, that's new."

He shot you a deadpan look, unamused. "Don't make a big deal out of it. It's just an experiment."

You chuckled. "Experiment or not, I'm honored to be the dating consultant for Papa Emeritus II. So, tell me about the details. Who's the lucky person?"

He hesitated for a moment before revealing, "It's someone from the Ministry."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Do I know them?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It doesn't matter," Secondo looked at you, a subtle intensity in his eyes.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "Sure, we can practice, but your level of commitment for what you call 'just dinner' is certainly something else."

He leaned against your desk, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. "Are you testing me?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't dare to test the almighty, the unholiest Papa Emeritus II," you said, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

He chuckled, a low hum following suit. "So, any suggestions for romantic conversation topics?"

You thought for a moment, tapping your fingers on the desk. "Well, what do you enjoy doing? Talk about your interests, and see if you have any common hobbies. You know, things you're passionate about."

He leaned back, considering your words. "Like what?"

"Secondo," you giggled. "You really never had been on a proper date?"

"I had some dates in the past," he admitted.

"I meant a proper one, with more talk than moans," you teased.

"Maybe not that many, then," he conceded with a smirk. "I just need some practice."

You chuckled at his response. "Alright, let's practice. Pretend I'm your date. Talk to me about something you're genuinely interested in."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing around the cabinet as if searching for inspiration. "I... well, I appreciate... Satanism."

"That's a start," you encouraged. "But, considering I already know your role as Papa in a Satanic Ministry, let's try something else, shall we?"

He huffed, crossing his arms. “I also have a passion for cooking.”

"Do you!?" you exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "Why didn't you tell me about that?"

"Perhaps because we've never been on a date?" he teased, a subtle smile gracing the corner of his lips.

"Very funny, Secondo," you retorted. "What do you enjoy cooking?"

He pondered for a moment. "My mom taught me how to cook when I was younger, back before I moved here to the Ministry. So, in the days before I came to live here with my father, Primo and Terzo, she would prepare and teach me the recipes from her homeland. But, as you already know, since we used to live in Italy, she always found a way to blend both cuisines into one. So the short answer would be that I enjoy cook everything my mom taught me."

You listened attentively, nodding. "That's cu–better!" you quickly corrected yourself. "What more about you would you like to share?"

"I enjoy literature as well," he relaxed his posture, his arms uncrossed. "Particularly when it delves into the darker facets of human nature."

"That's interesting," you smiled at him.

"Is it?" he asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

You nodded in affirmation, mirroring his head tilt. "Which authors do you like?"

His eyes rolled upward in contemplation before returning to meet yours, locking gazes. "Lately, I've delved into 'The Masque of the Red Death' by Edgar Allan Poe."

You leaned in a bit, your eyes searching his. "And what is it about?" The question hung in the air, almost a murmur.

Secondo, responding to your intrigue, moved closer to your desk, resting his arms on it. "Mortality, decadence, and the inevitability of death."

Your eyes held his, and a subtle smile played on your lips. "It suits your taste, doesn't it?" The words slipped from your lips almost playfully.

For a moment, a silent exchange lingered between you, both locked in a gaze that held a subtle dance of unspoken sentiments. The back-and-forth felt almost automatic, a flow of words and glances that hung in the air. However, as the silence stretched, you broke the connection, blinking slowly and shifting your gaze to another corner of the room. The unspoken tension lingered, suspended in the quiet space between you.

"Now, should I ask you about your interests?" he asked, his gaze focused on you.

You leaned back, considering his question with a playful glint in your eyes. "Yes, feel free to ask."

He chuckled, a genuine warmth in his tone. "Molto bene, pasticcina... what are your passions?"

You smirked, playing along. "Well, I also have an appreciation for Satanism, though I suppose you know."

He chuckled. "Indeed, pasticcina. What more?"

You continued the playful practice, seamlessly transitioning from the hypothetical to the personal. As you delved into the conversation, Secondo surprised you with his genuine curiosity. He asked about your favorite dishes, the kind of music you liked, and even your preferred getaway destinations.

You found yourself opening up about your passions and quirks. Surprisingly, Secondo's interest wasn't feigned; he listened attentively, occasionally sharing his own preferences. A long time ago, you noticed that he genuinely enjoyed moments when you would talk at length, silently absorbing your words. And according to him, listening to you was a way for him to relax after a stressful or long day. It felt as if Secondo was peeling away the layers of formality, revealing a more personal side that you rarely glimpsed. His responses were not mere nods or brief acknowledgments; instead, he engaged with a genuine interest that touched your heart.

As you spoke, you couldn't help but appreciate the sincerity in Secondo's gaze. His eyes, usually carrying a weight of responsibilities and authority, softened into a more tender expression. It was as if, in this moment, the roles that defined your relationship were momentarily set aside, allowing a deeper connection to emerge.

"Ok, my time now! What’s your favorite memory from when you moved here?" you asked, resting your face on your hand as you stared at him.

"Favorite memory?" Secondo mused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "I used to sneak into the Chapel for late-night fake rituals with Terzo. We used to explore the rooms behind the Chapel."

Intrigued, you leaned forward. "Rooms? Behind the Chapel?"

He grinned, revealing a glimpse of mischief. "We would sneak around after official hours, inventing stories about rituals we'd perform once we became Papa Emeritus."

You chuckled, "Did you three ever get caught?"

"More times than we’d like to admit," he admitted with a laugh.

"Who would've thought you were a rebel in your youth," you teased, pointing playfully at Secondo.

He responded with a sly smile, reaching for your hand and lightly touching his index finger to the one you were pointing at him. "There are probably some things you don't know about me, pasticcina."

A warmth spread through you, and you pulled away your finger, shaking your head with a slight blush. "I bet I don't. After all, I just discovered today that you can cook!'"

Secondo chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked with yours. "A well-hidden talent, wouldn't you say? Maybe I have more surprises up my sleeves."

You couldn't help but smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I'm intrigued."

He leaned in as well, the desk between you feeling like an invisible boundary. "Are you, pasticcina?"

"Very much. Why? Shouldn't I?" you asked with a playful glint in your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, I can't tell you what to do, sì? Or maybe I can, as the Papa."

You laughed at his words and shook your head. "Yes, you're the Papa. And you're not my boss, so technically, you can't dictate my actions. Though, I must admit, sometimes you seem to believe otherwise," you added, flashing him a sweet smile.

"Pasticcina, you're forgetting that I'm Papa Emerius II of this Ministry. So, yes, technically, I'm the boss," he said, crossing his legs.

"Well, Papa Emeritus II, even if you're the boss you've always respected my autonomy. So I guess that's the reason we get along so well," you teased, giving him a knowing look.

He smirked, the twinkle of mischief present in his eyes. "You're right, I could never bring myself to dictate your actions. That's not something I desire. Especially in our circumstances."

"Our circumstances?" you laughed lightheartedly, shaking your head. "Any more hidden talents or skills you're keeping from me?"

Secondo's gaze intensified, and he leaned even closer. "Maybe you need to find out for yourself. I could surprise you one of these days."

You leaned back, feigning casualness, yet your eyes didn't leave his. "Surprises, huh? Maybe I also have a few tricks up my sleeve as well."

Secondo raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. "Do you?"

"Maybe," you admitted with a playful smile.

"Will you share them with me?"

"Absolutely not," you responded, shaking your head with a teasing grin. "Just like you, I'll keep my mysteries hidden," you pointed a playful finger at him. "But, I just hope that one day, I'll understand your enigmas."

He chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I doubt you'll unravel all my mysteries. Some are meant to be kept, sì?" Secondo chuckled, rising from the chair with the folders in hand. "Grazie for practicing with me."

"Are we finished already?" you questioned, giving him a certain look. You didn't want this brief exchange between the two of you to come to an end.

"Sì, we are," he nodded in confirmation, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"Well, in that case, no need to thank me; I'm here for it," you reassured him, a genuine warmth evident in your tone. "We're friends, after all."

"You should go now, rest. It's late," he said, stretching his back.

You stood up from your chair, your gaze locked with his. "What about you?"

"I'll place these in the archives and then head to my chambers," he explained.

"Do you want me to come with you?" you offered, circling your table to stand by his side.

Secondo turned to face you, a gentle smile on his lips as he shook his head. Placing his hand on your cheek, he said, "I won't ask for more favors today. Go, rest, and I'll see you tomorrow." His touch lingered for a moment before he withdrew his hand.

"Fine," you huffed playfully. "But don't overwork."

"I won't, I promise," he replied, his eyes holding a sincerity.

You nodded, looking at him. Your eyes remained locked, holding onto each other's gaze. There was a peculiar intensity in the air, as if an unspoken connection lingered between you two.

"Before you leave," he said, stepping closer to you. "I do have a question."

"Well, it seems there's more for me tonight," you teased, chuckling. "Ask away."

"Just one question," he replied. "Let's imagine this is our first day together, you know, as my date," he said nervously. "How should I go about things at the end?"

"Well, it all depends on how the date goes," you responded with a thoughtful smile. "What happens next, really depends on the person you're with. Some might appreciate a goodnight kiss, while others might prefer a more reserved end to the evening. Best to gauge their preferences and perhaps just ask." You couldn't resist teasing him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Now, if by 'ending the night' you're referring to something more... intimate," you paused, a sly grin forming, "well, that also depends, Secondo. It's mostly up to your partner's comfort and desires. If they're up for it, great. If not, you might want to exercise a bit more patience and wait for the right moment."

Secondo chuckled, shaking his head. "No, no, that's not what I was getting at," he clarified. "I'm not... thinking about anything too intimate for the first date. I just want to make sure I don't mess up the next steps. I'd like the date to be successful and maybe open the door for a second one."

You couldn't help but laugh at the misunderstanding. "Got it. It's always good to clarify these things. In that case, just be genuine, attentive, and considerate. If the connection is there, everything else will naturally fall into place."

Secondo nodded appreciatively. "Genuino, attento e premuroso. Posso farlo."

You grinned, offering a playful wink. "Exactly. And remember, if the date is going well, you'll sense it. If there's a good connection, you might even feel a spark. Just be yourself, and it'll all work out."

He smiled in response. "Grazie. I'll keep that in mind. Now, I should let you go. Don't want to keep you from your evening plans."

"Evening plans?" you chuckled. "More like bedtime plans. I just need to sle..."

Your words trailed off as Secondo delicately took hold of your hand, drawing it closer to his face. He pressed a soft kiss onto the back of it, his lips brushing smoothly, and his nose causing a delightful shiver to run down your spine. Secondo released your hand and raised his face to look at you again.

"Hope you have a good night," he whispered in a low, rough tone.

You nodded and you turned to leave, for some reason, you weren't feeling inclined to leave him tonight, prompting you to force yourself to look away. Giving him a warm smile, you made your way to the front door of your cabinet, opening it. You turned to face him for a last time and waved, a strange pull tugged at something inside you. Yet, without hesitating anymore, you left your cabinet, closing the door behind you. The corridor outside seemed quieter, the echoes of your footsteps resonating as you walked away. The night held a hint of something you couldn't figure out, but you pushed the thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the need for rest. Tomorrow would bring a new day.

The morning found you in the meeting room, surrounded by the table filled with members of the Clergy. Secondo occupied the central chair, presiding over the gathering. Annoyance lingered in the air, exacerbated by the early hour that seemed unfit for such deliberations. Yet, there you were, seated in your chair, contemplating the tedious proceedings. It was too early for such matters, and the weight of the Clergy's expectations pressed heavily on your shoulders. Despite the internal discontent, you maintained a composed exterior.

"How about we add a dance routine to the ritual, spice things up a bit?" one of the counselors inquired.

Secondo raised an eyebrow. "We're not putting on a show; it's a sacred ritual, not a ballroom."

"How about we all don hooded robes?" the Magister suggested, his tone edged with a touch too much enthusiasm.

"Are you aspiring to be one of my ghouls?" Secondo questioned with a stern undertone, tapping his fingers on the table's surface.

"No, Papa. I apologize," the Magister replied, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

Secondo sighed, his demeanor maintaining seriousness. "This is not a celebration; we strive for solemnity and reverence." He then turned to you. "Deacon, any suggestions?"

"Uh...How about we emphasize the significance of sin and purpose? You can give a solemn speech about it," you spoke with conviction, "Also, what about a ritualistic chant? A collective recitation to honor our Dark Lord."

Secondo stared at you for a moment in silence, then nodded approvingly. "A return to our traditions. I appreciate it, Deacon. Let's proceed with that direction, we need a ritual that aligns with our satanic traditions."

The members of the Clergy grumbled, but Secondo's decision remained unyielding. After all, he held the esteemed position of Papa Emeritus. While there were murmurs of discontent, there was an understanding that his word carried undeniable weight. Somehow, it felt like as if being part of the Clergy and his friend, provided a unique privilege, granting you proximity to Secondo's decisions and shaping the path of the Ministry.

Beyond the friendship you shared with Secondo, which allowed you to know him on a personal level, your role as his Deacon gave you insight into his vision for the Ministry. This deeper understanding empowered you to offer suggestions that aligned with his aspirations, making your contributions more impactful.

In other words, you knew him.

As the members of the Clergy dispersed at his dismissal, Secondo remained seated in his chair, and you in yours, waiting until the last member exited the door. A noticeable sigh escaped Secondo's lips, echoing in the now empty room. Amused, you turned your face towards him and couldn't help but giggle.

You gracefully rose from your chair and made your way towards Secondo. His eyes followed your movements until you stopped by his side, sitting on the table next to him.

"Rough morning?" you asked, studying Secondo.

"Hooded robes? That's the pinnacle of ideas for the meeting?" Another sigh, accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

You couldn't stifle a chuckle at his exasperated expression. "Well, he did make an attempt, didn't he?"

"That was an attempt?" he retorted with a huffed chuckle.

"Secondo..."

"Mi dispiace," Secondo conceded, rubbing his brows with his fingers and leaning back in his chair. "It's just frustrating sometimes."

You shifted closer. “I get it. The hooded robes suggestion was a bit out there.”

He sighed, turning his gaze to the door. “It’s like they’re trying to outdo each other.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “at least it keeps things interesting.”

"What do you mean?" Secondo inquired.

"I meant that," you sighed, shaking your head. "Come on, Secondo, early morning meetings? It's practically an invitation for absurd suggestions."

He chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping him. "You have a point, Deacon."

You joined in the laughter. "Maybe we should schedule meetings in the afternoon. Avoid the pre-dawn eccentricities."

Secondo raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Are you trying to spare me from hooded robe discussions?"

"Consider it a small act of mercy," you replied with a smirk.

Secondo chuckled silently, turning his eyes back to you, locking gazes. For a moment, you two just stared at each other. A warm smile crossed your face, and he quickly averted his gaze, rising from his chair. As he did, you gracefully slid from the table to the floor, observing him as he put his mitra back on his head.

“Back to the usual, I suppose,” Secondo remarked, adjusting his mitra.

You rose to your feet, a playful glint in your eyes. “The Ministry awaits for their unholiest Eminence, Papa Emeritus II.”

"Did you mean the Paper work?" He smirked, gesturing towards the door. “Shall we return to the office, Deacon? There’s more work to be done.”

You nodded, following him out of the meeting room. Secondo opened the door, allowing you to exit first, and then followed behind. The way back to his office and your cabinet was accompanied by a comfortable silence. The quiet corridors, still untouched by the bustling activities of the day, provided a serene atmosphere.

As you both walked together, your steps in perfect rhythm, a tranquil ambiance enveloped you. The morning’s hushed stillness allowed for reflection, interrupted only by occasional sounds echoing through the hallways. You sensed Secondo’s gaze on you at times, hinting at unspoken thoughts, yet you chose to ignore it, maintaining the quiet companionship between you two.

Reaching his office door, you placed a hand on his back, tapping your fingers in a silent farewell. As you slid your hand away, moving towards the door of your cabinet without looking back, Secondo surprised you by reaching for your wrist. You stopped, turning to meet his gaze.

With a subtle gesture of his head towards the door of his office, Secondo's unspoken invitation was clear. You nodded, and his hand moved from your wrist to your hand, holding it gently. Together, you walked into his office, and he closed the door behind you.

"What's going on, Secondo?" you inquired, a genuine tone of concern in your voice.

He turned towards you, still holding your hand. "Nothing, just wanted to discuss something before we dive into our daily tasks."

"Ah!" you exclaimed, relief evident in your voice. "All the silence and mysterious gestures... You scared me!" You chuckled, but the humor faded as you felt the grip of his hand tighten.

"I apologize, pasticcina," he said, releasing your hand. "It's nothing important; no need to worry. But I was thinking, after work, would you like to join me for dinner?"

"A dinner?" you raised a questioning brow. "Why?"

He moved to his desk, glancing away from you. "Yesterday, after you left, I started to ask myself about my plans for the date. I might admit I felt a bit pressured to decide without seeking an opinion, so I thought that meeting in my chambers for dinner would be more intimate," he explained. "So, what I'm suggesting is: could you come to my chambers later and share a meal with me? I'll take care of the cooking, so no need to worry."

"Yes, certainly," you affirmed with a nod. "But, why the sudden dinner plan?"

"Because I need your opinion," he explained, running his hand over his face and settling into his chair. "And I trust your taste, especially since you've never experienced my cooking skills before."

A playful giggle escaped you, and you bit your lower lip. "Putting in quite the effort for this date. They must be someone special, or... I'm not sure what else could explain it."

He nodded in agreement, rolling his chair away from the desk. Removing his mitra and placing it carefully on the edge, he continued, "They are. A lot. Grazie for helping me again," standing up, he lifted his robe and removed it. "I'll be expecting you after work, so you can change comfortably if you wish," he added while hanging his robe. "But for now, let's focus on work, sí?"

You nodded in agreement, offering him a sweet smile as you made your way to the door of your cabinet. Pushing it open, you impulsively gave him a final glance and found him looking back at you. However, as your eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze, and you did the same, entering your office and closing the door behind you.

Furrowing your brows, you walked to your desk and turned your face towards the door, a sense of confusion settling in as an unspoken tension lingered in the air.

Determined to delve into work, you tried to push aside the intrusive thoughts about Secondo's date. The realization that he needed your opinion for a personal matter lingered, adding an unexpected layer to your responsibilities. It felt like putting in extra hours for a friend, yet a subtle discomfort simmered beneath the surface, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher.

The day progressed, and the weight of your concentration on work led you to skip lunch, an unusual occurrence even without a meeting with the Clergy. The intensity with which you focused became a shield against the lingering thoughts, keeping your emotions in check. As the hours passed, the unease grew, a nagging sensation that you couldn't shake.

Amid your concentrated efforts, a knock on your door shattered the silence, pulling you away from your work. The interruption disrupted your train of thought, leaving you slightly disoriented as you looked towards the door.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up from your chair walking to the front of your desk and turned towards the door. Leaning against the edge of the desk, you called out, "Come in," crossing your arms in front of your chest.

As the door swung open, a sibling of sin from the ministry stood there. "I apologize for disturbing you, Deacon, but your presence is requested by the Magister in the Chapel."

"Thank you," you responded with a gentle smile.

The Sibling of Sin nodded, taking a step back from the door before leaving your cabinet. Just before the door closed, you signaled to keep it open. Seizing the opportunity, you made your way towards the door, leaving your cabinet and heading directly to the Chapel.

Uncertain of what the Magister could possibly need at this hour in the afternoon, you had no choice but to go. Entering the chapel, Archeon, the Magister, was already waiting for you, seated on one of the benches. As your eyes met his, you couldn't help but sigh.

"Magister," you greeted, closing the chapel's door behind you.

He turned his face towards you, rising from the bench. "Deacon, please, join me," he gestured to a door, his office and you walked towards it with him.

You approached, entering his office with him following suit. Archeon's expression bore formality and concern as he glanced at you.

"Deacon, I apologize for the sudden call, but there's a matter of urgency that requires your attention," he began, his tone carrying a weight.

"What is it?" you inquired, a note of concern in your voice.

"It's about the upcoming ritual," he replied with a smirk.

Suppressing any visible reaction, you maintained a composed exterior, merely nodding in response. You found yourself unwittingly drawn into another discussion about the ritual, a situation that seemed to be becoming a recurring theme in your day.

You couldn't shake the suspicion that Archeon had summoned you instead of Secondo, well aware that convincing the Papa might be an impossible task. It was a misjudgment on his part, as you held firm in your loyalty to Secondo and his decisions.

As the discussions delved deeper into the intricacies of the ritual, the afternoon gradually stretched into the night. Engrossed in the meeting, you realized you hadn't found a chance to escape from the Magister's grasp. After the prolonged discussions, you couldn't help but wish you were anywhere else at this point, yearning for a break from the relentless discourse.

"I was thinking we could enhance the upcoming ritual with some thematic decorations, perhaps—"

Raising your hand, you interjected wearily, offering a polite smile as your eyes flicked to the clock. "Magister, I appreciate your ideas, truly, but I've been immersed in logistical details all day." With a subtle gesture, you motioned towards the stack of papers on your desk. "I believe we've covered most bases. Can we possibly continue this discussion tomorrow?"

The Magister sighed, recognizing your exhaustion. "I completely understand, Deacon, but hear me out on these finer details about the ceremonial space. Picture this — ethereal lighting, symbolic artifacts, and maybe even a thematic focal point for the Papa Emeritus."

Nodding politely, you glanced towards the door, silently signaling the urgency of your situation. "Magister, your vision is inspiring, no doubt." As you spoke, you gathered the papers on your desk. "But I have an important matter to attend to now. Let's reconvene tomorrow, what do you think?"

"But, Deacon—" he began, reluctant to let go of his ideas.

You stood, a sense of determination in your eyes. "Tomorrow, Magister. I promise we'll give your ideas the attention they deserve. Right now, urgent matters call."

He nodded, understanding the present circumstances, and you gave him a reassuring smile. With that, you headed towards the door, leaving the Magister to contemplate his ideas inside one of the rooms of the Chapel.

As you navigated the corridors to reach Secondo's chambers, your thoughts drifted to reasons why he needed you tonight. You had been friends with Secondo for a considerable time, and you couldn't recall a time when he straight-up asked for your help on something so private. Granted, he had casually alluded to it on a few occasions, but it was more like random thoughts than actual requests. You pondered what was happening for him to break from his routine and embark on this unexpected endeavor.

Reaching for the door of his chambers, you shook away your thoughts. Raising your hand, you knocked on his door, mirroring the courtesy he had extended to you earlier. Soon, his voice echoed from inside, signaling you to push the door open and enter.

As you walked in, you made your way to his bedroom, finding him standing in front of the mirror, holding two shirts in his hands. He placed them in front of his bare chest, tilting his head repeatedly as he assessed the options. Leaning against the doorframe, you chuckled at the sight. Secondo shifted his gaze from his reflection to acknowledge your presence in the room.

"Which one?" he inquired, a serious tone in his voice.

"The white one," you replied, gesturing towards the shirt in his left hand.

He sighed and walked to his bed, discarding the other shirt as he began to don the white one. You made your way towards him, observing him buttoning his shirt. Stopping in front of him, you extended your hands to his neck, assisting with the collar of the shirt, your gaze fixed on his neck.

"Why are you picking out a shirt?"

"I had a little accident in the kitchen," he mumbled.

A playful chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted your face up to meet his gaze. "You, Secondo, had a little accident?"

He sighed, arching a brow. "Sì"

"Feeling nervous?" you inquired, tilting your head as you looked up at him. Your thumbs traced gentle circles on the skin of his neck.

"I don't get nervous," he declared with a serious tone, his hands moving to rest on your arms, holding them securely.

Raising an eyebrow, you scrutinized his expression. "You don't get nervous?"

"No," he replied, withdrawing his hands from your arms and lightly placing one on the side of your body.

Shaking your head with a smile, you moved your hands from his neck to the buttons of his shirt, skillfully undoing the first two. "You're not about to lead a mass or attend a meeting; you don't have to be that formal." You finished unbuttoning his shirt, giving him a light pat on the chest. "There, much better."

Secondo maintained a stoic silence, his gaze fixed on you as your hands lingered on his chest. The discreet sound of him clearing his throat felt like a subtle cue for you to withdraw your hands, concealing the flicker of embarrassment. Stepping back, you aimed to regain your composure.

Inhaling deeply, Secondo clasped his hands together and turned towards the kitchen, prompting you to follow suit. As he entered first and headed towards the stove, you found yourself trailing behind, entering the kitchen with a slight sense of uncertainty. Not quite sure of what to do or where to go, you hesitated on the threshold.

"Are you hungry?" he inquired.

"A little bit," you admitted.

"Come here," he beckoned, and you moved in a beeline towards him, stopping right beside him.

Turning to face you, Secondo gently held your chin between his index finger and thumb. "Open," he instructed, and a flicker of confusion passed through your eyes. Nonetheless, he moved his thumb closer to your lower lip, caressing it gently. "Your mouth."

Your gaze remained fixed on him as you slowly parted your lips, feeling his thumb almost sliding inside your mouth. A satisfied hum escaped him as he let go of your chin, guiding the spoon closer to your mouth.

As the spoon neared and your lips were still parted, your eyes fixed on him, Secondo abruptly halted his movement. He shifted the hand with the spoon, and you instinctively reached for it, taking hold. As he withdrew his hand to turn back to the stove, your eyes focused on the spoon.

"Blew it before tasting," he advised. "It's a recipe from my mom; she used to cook this risotto."

Obediently, you blew on the spoonful and tasted it, savoring the blend of flavors from the ingredients. A content smile spread across your face as you closed your eyes.

"It's good, sì?" Secondo inquired, and you opened your eyes, nodding appreciatively. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he remarked, attempting to veil a subtle joy in his voice, though it lingered beneath the surface. "Now, take a seat, and I'll serve our food."

As Secondo finished serving, you took a seat, waiting for him to join. With graceful movements, he approached the table, placing a plate in front of you and another for himself. Seating himself, he reached for a bottle of wine, but just before pouring, a realization struck him. Standing up, he made his way to the countertop drawer, retrieving a lighter. Returning to the table, he ignited some candles, casting a warm glow in the room. He then went to the switch, turning off the lights before settling back at the table.

You looked around, slightly perplexed by the sudden change in ambiance. "What's all this?" you asked.

Secondo leaned back, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Just thought we'd get into the mood of a real date," he explained.

You chuckled, "A real date, huh?"

"Sì, why not?" he replied, pouring some wine into both glasses.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I think I'll pass on the wine," you said with a small smile. "Still have work tomorrow."

Secondo nodded and got up. "Nessun problema. I'll get you something else." He returned with a bottle of water and a glass cup, placing them in front of you. "I apologize. I should have asked before."

"No need to apologize," you reassured him, pouring yourself some water. "I appreciate it," you sipped your water. "This really feels like a real date," you remarked with a playful smile.

Secondo leaned back, his gaze meeting yours. "Well, I did ask you to meet me at night for a dinner,” Secondo admitted, a touch of genuine reflection in his voice. “But I called you here to make sure I’ve still got the charm.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Charm? Is that what you call it?”

He grinned, “Well, you haven’t run away yet, so it must be working, sì?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his playful banter. “I have to admit that your mother's risotto is being more powerful than your 'charm' right now. But, I suppose you have a point. So, what’s the plan for our fictional date talk practice tonight?”

Secondo lifted his wine glass, taking a sip. "I thought we could dive into some typical date talk again. Just, before we do it, why are you still in your work clothes?"

You glanced down at your attire and sighed. "The Magister called for me this afternoon for a discussion."

"What was it about?" Secondo inquired, picking up his fork to begin eating.

"Guess," you replied dryly. "Of course, it was about the ritual."

"Cretino," Secondo muttered under his breath. "I'll make sure he knows not to disturb you any further."

You chuckled, appreciating Secondo’s protective tone. “No need to worry, Secondo. I can handle the Magister, and besides, it’s part of the job.”

He sighed, delicately placing his utensils on the table. “I still don’t like it. You shouldn’t be bothered with such things. If I've made my decision, then he should stop pressuring you. I have the final say.”

You responded with a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, really. Now, back to our ‘typical date talk.’ If being a Papa Emeritus wasn't your destiny, you could have being a chef.”

A subtle smile forming at the corner of his lips as he focused on his food. "I'm truly glad you liked it."

"Are you planning to cook this for your date?" you inquired.

"No," he replied, taking a bite. "I mean... Yes, but, this dish is..." he continued. "This is a dish meant to be shared with someone special."

"Isn't your date someone special?" you quirked an eyebrow.

Secondo chuckled, a soft warmth in his eyes. “Of course. But this dish is... it has a meaning for me, and to share it with someone, for me, is truly intimate.”

You nodded, understanding. “So, what you are telling me right now is that I'm special?"

Secondo took another bite, savoring the flavors before meeting your gaze. "Maybe yes, maybe no," he said with a playful glint in his eyes.

You leaned in, a teasing smile on your lips. "Well, Secondo, you're not giving me a clear answer. Should I be offended or flattered?"

He chuckled, setting his fork down. "You see, 'special' is quite a broad term. it can mean a lot of tings."

You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation. "You're impossible, you know that? But I suppose it's better than a definite 'no'."

He laughed softly, a twinkle in his eyes. "However," he sighed before continuing. "I can't deny that sharing this with you is special. So maybe you're not just special; you're making it special."

You blushed deeply and he reached for your hand. You instinctively let him, both of you seemingly unaware of the unspoken shift in dynamics. The touch felt surprisingly natural, and as your fingers intertwined, the air in the room seemed to thicken with some strange newfound feeling.

“Perhaps,” Secondo began, his voice softer, “we could do this again sometime.”

You nodded. “Of course, I'd love to.”

The evening unfolded in shared conversations and laughter, the atmosphere feeling strangely intimate. Your hands remained intertwined, as if in sync with the unspoken understanding that this wasn't just a performance, or at least didn't feel like it as time seemed to slow down as you both reveled in the comfort of each other's presence.

As the meal drew to a close, Secondo rose, indicating his intention to take care of the dishes. Despite your offer to help, he insisted that you stay put, asserting his desire to handle the task. Weariness settling in, you acquiesced without further protest, allowing him to take charge.

Reclining in your chair, you observed him as he methodically rolled up his sleeves, ready to tackle the pile of dishes. Resting your elbow on the table, you cradled your cheek in your hand, captivated by the simple domesticity of the scene. Watching him in this moment, he seemed more than the formidable Papa Emeritus; he appeared as a person engaged in mundane yet oddly enchanting chores. It was a rare glimpse of Secondo unguarded, a side obscured by his role of authority.

Your eyes roamed over his silhouette, from the way his white shirt clung to him with meticulous precision, the impeccable fit of his black pants, down to his polished shoes. Every detail seemed to accentuate the allure of his form. As he worked on the dishes, your gaze lingered on the back of his head, his neck, his arms, and the motion of his strong hands. The entire sight prompted an involuntary sigh, a reflexive response to the unexpected allure of observing him.

Clearing your head, you shook off the enchantment and took in a deep breath. It felt odd to gaze upon him with such admiration, especially in the context of a casual evening. Reminding yourself that this was merely a performance, a shared act between two individuals, you sought to maintain a sense of detachment. The lines between the scripted performance and genuine connection blurred momentarily.

"Have you considered bringing flowers for your date?" you inquired, turning your gaze back to him.

Secondo paused in his actions, glancing over his shoulder. "Flowers?"

"It could be a nice touch," you suggested, your tone gentle, accompanied by a warm smile. "A thoughtful gesture, don't you think?"

"Flowers," he chuckled softly, a twinkle in his eye. "What kind of flowers?"

"I don't know, maybe... lilies, daisies or..." you paused, contemplating. "Oh! tulips!" you exclaimed, your face lighting up with a smile.

"Tulips?" he inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding with a continued smile. "Tulips expresses admiration."

"Tulips then," he decided, nodding in agreement.

"Yes, Papa. Tulips," you confirmed with a grin

"Stop," he said in a more serious tone.

"Stop with what, Papa?" you inquired, letting his title linger a bit longer on your tongue.

With a chuckle, Secondo turned towards you, arms crossed over his chest. "Pasticcina..."

"Papa?" you repeated, trying to suppress a laugh, your lower lip caught between your teeth.

He approached the table, placing his hands on it in front of you, lowering himself slightly. "Do you find it entertaining to mock me?"

With a playful tone, you replied, gesturing with your hand as if pinching an imaginary space between your thumb and index finger. "A little. But to be honest, I don't get why you don't like me calling you Papa. You call me Deacon!"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "When you call me Papa, it feels like you're just another one of them who sees me only in that role. I know you don't, or at least, I want to believe you don't. So when you do it, it feels like you're only acknowledging me as Papa. Also seeing me as someone above you, and I don't want you to see me as it. You're the only one I allow to call me by my name because... that feels more personal, more real."

"Secondo," you softly uttered his name, and a gentle smile graced his lips. "I..." you continued, observing as Secondo opened his eyes, locking his gaze with yours.

He nodded slightly, a gentle expression in his eyes. "Now you know."

You couldn't help but feel a warmth in your chest, realizing the significance of calling him by his name. It was a privilege, a connection beyond titles and roles. You sensed a deeper bond, one that surpassed the boundaries of your official positions.

"But," you chuckled, looking away from his eyes. "That doesn't explain why you call me Deacon." As you spoke, you felt Secondo's gentle touch cupping your cheek, prompting you to meet his gaze once more.

"That's easy to explain, actually," he replied, straightening his posture and adjusting his sleeves. "I call you Deacon because, in my eyes, you are more than just your title," Secondo said with a sincere tone, his eyes locked onto yours. "It's a term that resonates with the person you are to me—dedicated, capable. When I say it, it's not just a formality; it's a way of acknowledging the person I trust, respect, and consider my equal."

His words caught you off guard, surprise and warmth settling within. You sat there, momentarily frozen, unsure of how to respond, your gaze fixed on him. Secondo, with a subtle tilt of his head, seemed to enjoy your reaction. Breaking the moment, you burst into laughter, getting up from your seat and playfully hitting his arm with a soft punch. He reached for your hand, and pulled you closer.

"Should I let you go for tonight?" he whispered in a hushed tone.

Confused by his ambiguous words, you pondered the meaning behind "letting you go." What was he implying? You hesitated, uncertain of your response. Should you express a desire to stay longer, to extend this quiet and intimate moment with him? Yet, the reason behind that desire eluded you.

"Is our 'date' coming to an end?" you inquired, matching his subdued tone.

"It depends," he whispered back.

The air seemed to thicken, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere. His proximity and the gentle embrace of your hands intensified the unspoken tension, leaving you breathless and uncertain how to navigate the intimate space between you.

"In that case," you began, gently retracting your hand from his grasp, "I suppose our night comes to an end."

As you spoke, Secondo remained silent, nodding in agreement while avoiding eye contact. He gestured toward the kitchen's door, prompting you to lead the way. Moving in silence, you felt the weight of your words, wondering if you had conveyed the wrong message. As you approached the front door, you hesitated, a desire to turn and look at him conflicting with the sense that you had just given an inadequate response.

Reaching the door, you stopped, making room for Secondo to open it for you. Gathering your courage, you glanced back at him, only to find his gaze fixed elsewhere. Sighing, you stepped outside, facing the corridor. Just as you were about to move on, he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss on the back. As he released your hand, he remained silent, offering a small nod and a faint smile.

Taking a step back into his chambers, Secondo slowly closed the door, allowing for a prolonged gaze between you two. When the door finally shut completely, you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, exhaling heavily. Holding the hand he had kissed against your face with the other, you could feel your heart racing and your cheeks burning.

You hurriedly retreated to your chambers, not daring to glance back. No furtive glimpses, not even with the corner of your eye. Distance was your ally, and you needed to put as much of it between you and him as possible. The empty corridors allowed for swift, almost running steps, the only sounds being the echo of your hurried pace and the rapid beating of your heart.

Upon reaching the door to your chambers, you wasted no time and swung it open, entering in haste. As the door closed behind you, you leaned against the wooden surface, taking a moment to catch your breath before attempting to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Turning your gaze to your hand, the one he had just kissed, you were certain you could still feel the warmth of his lips on it. Driven by a mix of desire and bewilderment, you brought the hand closer to your face, hovering it near your lips. With closed eyes, you allowed yourself to savor the sensation, as if the residual heat from his kiss on your hand was transferring directly to your lips. It almost felt like...

You opened your eyes, fixating on your hand outstretched in front of you, prompting a sigh to escape your lips. As your gaze trailed the back of your hand, there it was—the imprint of his lips, the distinctive black lines from his face paint against the white. Your eyes softened, and you closed them once more. Bringing your hand close to your mouth, you allowed yourself to place a gentle kiss on the marked skin. As you withdrew your lips from your hands, the faint imprint of his kiss lingered. The sensation was as if you had just shared a kiss with Secondo, kindling a flame within you.

The line for the confessional today was incredibly long. It wasn't your usual practice to engage in this, as you preferred to grapple with your sins in silence. Moreover, your role as a Deacon didn't mandate such confessions. However, during your free moments, you occasionally indulged in sharing your transgressions with the Cardinal of the week, the Minister, or even the Papa Emeritus himself.

The problem lay in the aftermath of the previous night, as an unusual sense of guilt and embarrassment gripped you. It was a sentiment you couldn't entirely comprehend, but the source of your embarrassment was clear – the intimate act with your hand that felt inherently wrong.

The queue for the confessional was filled with siblings eager to speak with Secondo. However, as his Deacon, you were well aware that he wouldn't be available today due to a busy morning. You found solace in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be the one hearing your thoughts, actions, and feelings today. Instead, the confessional would be attended by one of the Ministers from the Ministry, as per the schedule.

As the queue inched closer to your turn at the confessional, a sense of nervousness tinged your anticipation. You knew you needed to confess the guilt and embarrassment you felt from the previous night, but you were determined to keep the details superficial and avoid any mention of Secondo. The goal was to confide without revealing the true source of your inner turmoil, ensuring that whoever listened on the other side remained unaware of the specific circumstances.

After a brief wait, it was finally your turn at the confessional. As you stepped into it, the familiar scent of aged wood surrounded you, creating a somewhat comforting atmosphere. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"Forgive me, Minister, for I've sinned," you began, your voice calm within the confines of the confessional.

Inside, a brief silence ensued, and you turned your head, catching a glimpse of the Minister's silhouette through the window. He nodded, prompting you to take a deep breath.

“I… I found myself in a situation that felt inappropriate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel ashamed and embarrassed about it. I know I shouldn't feel ashamed, but I do.”

Turning your gaze to the silhouette once more, another nod from the Minister signaled for you to continue.

"I know that embracing desire is considered virtuous, and I shouldn't feel shame, but I do," you confessed, leaning against the confessional wall. "I find myself entangled in thoughts and feelings of lust with someone I shouldn't. He wasn't someone I desired before or maybe did; I regarded him as an equal, a friend. However, something has changed, he looks different now."

The Minister's silhouette stayed stoic, leaving you uncertain about whether to continue. However, you knew he wouldn't abandon the confessional.

"We've had some conversations in the last few days, and it's embarrassing because I shouldn't be feeling this way about him after such a short time, but the way he talks, the care he shows when I'm talking..." you smiled. "The way he expressed how he sees me... and other things. I start to feel like I've been blind whenever I was close to him or just ignored things I shouldn't have, and for that, I feel embarrassed. My sin today is this guilt inside of me."

You furrowed your brows as the silhouette remained stoic, leaving you unsure of how to proceed.

"Minister? Should I proceed?" you asked with uncertainty.

He nodded in response.

"I should be proud of what happened yesterday; after all, lust is embraced here. But, all I feel is guilt. Guilt for the desire I felt, for what I imagined with him," you sighed, closing your eyes and pressing your legs together. "For the longing for a kiss, just an innocent kiss," you murmured, opening your eyes. "I feel guilty for wanting my friend, for desiring him, for needing him."

You sighed, shifting your gaze to the silhouette on the other side of the confessional booth. The Magister remained a silent listener, patiently absorbing your words.

"I feel like I’m caught in this whirlwind of emotions," you confessed, your gaze dropping to your feet. "I'm starting to think maybe this attraction was always lurking around, unnoticed or dismissed. It's confusing – being drawn to him when it feels like I shouldn't. But," you grinned, "I can't shake the thoughts of him, and this curiosity to unravel more about who he really is."

You awaited a response, but the Minister stayed silent. The thought that they might have figured out who you were referring to started to gnaw at you, a tightening sensation in your stomach.

"Thank you, Minister, for listening," you expressed as you gently opened the confessional door and stepped out, leaving the weight of your confessions within its sacred space.

Exiting the confessional, you headed back to your cabinet, exiting the chapel. In the corridors, you spotted the Magister, you anticipated the conversation you had promised him yesterday. Inhaling deeply to prepare yourself, as you walked past him, however, he deliberately avoided your presence, not even bothering to meet your gaze.

Observing him stride away, a chuckle escaped your lips. It seemed Secondo had indeed managed to convey the message to leave you alone. As you continued to your cabinet, you passed by Secondo's office door, giving it a brief glance. He probably hadn't returned yet from the meeting he had scheduled for this morning. Reaching your own door, you opened it and stepped inside.

The rest of the day unfolded with an unusual quietness. Secondo didn't show up after the meeting hour, and there were no requests or messages from him. The typically atmosphere of his office, where you could hear the muffled sounds of him discussing matters with other siblings or working on various tasks, was eerily silent. You couldn't even catch a glimpse of him through the slightly open door of his office.

Despite the unusual circumstances, you decided to focus on your work. The Ministry's duties and responsibilities demanded your attention, and you knew that dwelling on Secondo's absence wouldn't serve any purpose. Your tasks as a Deacon required precision and dedication, and you delved into your responsibilities, pushing aside any thoughts about the peculiar events of the day.

Yet, you missed him.

As the hours passed, the normal rhythm of your work continued, and you worked on managing requests, coordinating schedules, and overseeing the operations within the Ministry. The day rolled on, and soon it was approaching the end of your work shift. Still, there was no sign of Secondo, and the unusual emptiness in his office lingered in the air. You wondered if something significant had occurred or if he simply had other matters to attend to. Regardless, you maintained your focus on your duties, determined to fulfill your responsibilities until the last moments of your workday.

The sudden knock on your door nearly startled you, prompting a swift rise from your chair. Fueled by the hope that it might be Secondo, you hurried to the door, anticipation coursing through you. However, to your disappointment, it was one of the ritualists who awaited you on the other side.

"It's quite late, and I understand if you've wrapped up your work, but I have some details for the upcoming ritual at the end of the week," he mentioned, gesturing with a folder in his hand.

"Please," you said, stepping back to allow him entry. "Come in."

He nodded, stepping into your cabinet. "It's not urgent. Honestly, you can address it tomorrow, but I needed someone reliable to take a look at the final document."

As you closed the door, you faced him. "You do realize you should have handed it to Papa, right?"

"Don't you know?" he inquired, noticing your confusion. "Papa didn't attend the morning meeting, and no one has seen him since then."

"What!?" you exclaimed, attempting to mask your emotions. "What do you mean?"

"I assumed you might knew," he said, placing the folder on your desk.

"I..." you glanced at Secondo's door. "I didn't..." you sighed, shifting your focus back to the ritualist. "Maybe he was just occupied for the day."

"Perhaps," he replied with a shrug. "Well, thanks for receiving me," he said, heading toward the door and opening it. "As I mentioned, don't stress about the files today; you can handle them tomorrow."

As the ritualist departed, closing the door behind him, you swiftly approached Secondo's office door connected to your cabinet. Pushing it open, you scanned the room. There was no indication that he had been in his office today. Unusual – it wasn't typical for Secondo to be absent from the office or working elsewhere without a clear reason.

A troubling thought surfaced: could his absence be tied to his date? Perhaps he was preparing for it, but was it today? Regardless, he wouldn’t neglect his responsibilities like this, especially not without keeping you informed.

Exiting his office, you returned to your cabinet. Without a second glance, you headed to your front door and left. Determined to locate Secondo, you were certain he would be in his chambers—the only place where he could remain hidden for an extended period without being spotted.

As you walked purposefully through the corridors, the urgency of finding Secondo fueled your steps. Upon reaching the entrance to Secondo’s chambers, a moment of hesitation overcame you before retrieving the spare keys hidden at the top of the door and pushing it open.

“Secondo?” No response. The silence pressed against your ears, amplifying the tension.

To your surprise, the room was empty. The subtle scent of incense hung in the air, but there was no sign of Secondo. The mysterious absence deepened your concern. Maybe he had left a clue, a note, or something that could shed light on his sudden disappearance. You began to search the room, checking every corner, every piece of parchment on his desk.

Nothing.

As you stood in the center of Secondo's chamber, uncertainty gripped you. Where could he be? The unanswered questions piled up, and a sense of foreboding weighed on your shoulders. An eerie silence enveloped the room. The air seemed to hold its breath.

Exiting his chambers, you headed back to your cabinet, determined to focus on the documents the ritualist had delivered. You pondered where else Secondo might be if not in his chambers. A sense of worry gnawed at you; his prolonged absence was unusual, especially for the entire day.

Arriving at your cabinet's door, you paused, taking a deep breath. Your gaze involuntarily flicked to Secondo's closed office door, searching for any hint of light beneath it. To your disappointment, there was none. Deciding not to dwell on it further, you pushed open your door. But, just as you were about to step inside, you found him already there, standing in front of your desk, holding the folder delivered by the ritualist.

"Secondo!" you exclaimed, stepping inside.

"Deacon," he said, meeting your gaze with a seemingly innocent expression. "I was wondering where you went."

"I should be the one asking that," you retorted. "What's going on? Where have you been?"

"In the... Ministry...?" he asked, arching a brow in mock innocence, placing the folder on your desk. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" you said, your tone sharpening. "You've been absent the entire day!" you said, stepping closer to him.

"Deacon..."

"No," you interrupted, pointing at him as you closed the distance. "Don't use my title or—"

“Pasticcina,” Secondo interjected. His tone remained steady but carried an unspoken weight.

As the familiar nickname reached you, you came to a sudden stop a few inches away from him. Casting a brief glance in his direction, you took in his unadorned appearance – no face paint, only wearing the clothes he typically donned under his Papa's robe.

“I had some personal matters to attend to,” Secondo explained, breaking the momentary silence. His eyes met yours, revealing something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Personal matters?” you repeated, your tone a blend of skepticism and curiosity. “You were absent the whole day.”

He sighed, a hint of frustration evident. “There are aspects of my duties that require discretion. It’s nothing to concern yourself with, pasticcina.”

"What? Since when?" you said, frustration evident, releasing his hand. "Are you kidding me?" The heat of anger simmered within you. "Secondo, you've been absent the entire day. I assumed maybe a lengthy meeting, but it felt odd. No communication, no nothing throughout the day," you continued. "This isn't your usual behavior. You don't skip work, you don't disappear, and most importantly, not without..." Your words trailed off.

"Not without?" he inquired.

"Not without telling me," you sighed, turning away and rubbing your hands over your eyes. "I'm your Deacon; you can't pull disappearing acts without informing me about what's happening." As you faced him again, he stood unexpectedly close, the intensity of his presence catching you off guard.

"I didn't skip work today," he asserted, looking down at you. "I was working."

"Oh, were you?" you shot back with a defiant look, crossing your arms. "Really?"

"Sì?" he replied, mirroring your crossed arms. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know, maybe for the same reason you hid from me the entire day?" you said, the anger still simmering. "I even thought that maybe your date was today, and you were..." you inhaled deeply. "there... with them." As you said it, your words came out laden with frustration and an unspoken hurt. "But, I've had enough of these vague answers, Secondo," you said, your frustration boiling over. "What happened today? You can't just disappear without a word."

He sighed, his gaze shifting away. "It was unexpected."

"Unexpected? That's all you're giving me?" you retorted, unconvinced. "Everyone in the Ministry was worried, and I was left in the dark."

"I'm sure no one was worried, pasticcina, and I apologize for the concern," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"You can't just—I'm the Deacon! I should know what's happening," you insisted, your eyes narrowing.

He paused, as if grappling with a decision. "Bene, I'll tell you," he conceded, meeting your gaze. "I was in a private duty today."

"A private duty?" you echoed, puzzled. "What could possibly be a private duty?"

He hesitated, then admitted, “I am the Papa Emeritus of the Ministry, after all. Sometimes, I need to be the listener,” he explained, a shadow of weariness crossing his features.

“A listener?” you questioned, still trying to grasp the extent of his absence.

“I skipped the meeting because I couldn’t shake off some of my thoughts. Then, I found myself in the confessional today,” he repeated, his tone revealing a deeper truth. “Listening to confessions. I wanted to offer guidance, to be there for those who needed it."

“So, it means that it was—” a sudden realization hit you. If Secondo was the one inside the confessional today...

Secondo gently reached for your face, cupping your cheek. “Do you want to talk about why you felt guilty?”

Your eyes widened as you looked at him. “I don’t.”

"Are you sure about that, pasticcina?" he inquired, his thumb lightly tracing the line of your jaw.

You tried to maintain composure. "I don't feel guilty."

He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. "Confessionals are meant for honesty, you know."

You took a deep breath. "I don't have anything to confess," you insisted, though your gaze flickered with uncertainty.

"But you had," Secondo’s gaze held an unspoken challenge. “Don't hide your sins from me, pasticcina,” his thumb continued its gentle caress.

“I… I just...” you stammered, attempting to evade the specifics. Feeling the pressure, you took a step back, creating a slight distance between you and Secondo. His eyes followed your movement, and took a deep breath.

"You can talk to me," he persisted, closing the gap again, his gaze unwavering. "What happened?"

You continued to evade, attempting to maintain composure. "It's nothing, really."

He pursued you, narrowing the distance between you once more. "Tell me," he urged, his voice a soft but insistent whisper. "I want to help you to get rid of this feeling. Let me, your Papa, guide you."

As the space between you diminished, you met his gaze, and in a barely audible whisper, you admitted, "I feel guilty because of you."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Secondo’s eyes as he maintained the proximity, absorbing your whispered admission. Before he could respond, you spoke up.

“I feel guilty,” you confessed, “for wanting you,” the words tumbled out, revealing the turmoil within. "But I shouldn't because we are friends... But yesterday, all I wanted for some reason was you, your touch, a kiss..."

Without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The air seemed to pause, and then, with a gentle and unmistakable determination, he pressed his lips to yours. For a moment, he held still, leaving his lips lightly grazing yours, waiting for your response.

As you closed your eyes slowly, you took a deep breath, reciprocating the kiss. That was all the encouragement he needed. Secondo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, fingers tracing patterns as your lips moved in harmony. Slowly, your hands caressed down to his belly before settling on the sides of his body. As you explored the contours, Secondo responded by unwrapping his arms from around you. His hands then journeyed to your face, cupping your cheeks with gentle warmth, intensifying the closeness of the moment.

As the kiss continued, the touch of your lips remained gentle and unhurried. Your hands, exploring the intricate contours of his body, moved with deliberate tenderness. Secondo's response was a mirrored reflection of the unhurried passion. He let his hands linger on your face, thumbs tracing gentle patterns along your cheeks.

And then, subtle shift occurred, and the tenderness transformed into a growing intensity. The unhurried kiss between you and Secondo began to deepen, the softness giving way to a more fervent exchange.

Your hands, once gentle in their exploration, tightened their hold with a newfound urgency. They traced the lines of his body, conveying a growing desire that mirrored the intensifying kiss. Secondo responded in kind, his touch on your face evolving from a gentle caress to a more passionate hold, fingers tracing their path to the back of your neck.

His fingers brushed against the back of your neck as his other hand firmly grasped your waist. Your bodies were pressed against each other, intensifying the kiss. A subtle sound escaped your lips, blending with a sigh as Secondo's grip on your waist tightened.

Tilting his head, Secondo’s tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance. However, you, sensing the path the kiss could lead you both, pulled away abruptly. The fire that had been building extinguished as you put a deliberate distance between you and Secondo.

Secondo's eyes, filled with concern, locked onto yours. This time, you turned your face to the side, glancing away. Undeterred, he gently held your chin, turning it back to face him.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hushed tone, his lips just inches away.

"N-Nothing," you stammered, trying to hide the unease in your voice.

"Did I do something wrong?" His eyes conveyed a mix of worry and confusion.

"No..." you said, reaching for the hand on your chin, holding it in an attempt to convey reassurance. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I just..." you started, your voice softening. "I knew where that kiss could lead, and it didn't feel right, especially considering..."

"Considering what?" Secondo inquired, his brow furrowing with confusion.

"...Considering you have a date," you replied.

Secondo’s gaze held deep emotions as he absorbed your words. “Ah, the date,” he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of ambiguity. “It’s just a date, pasticcina.”

“How come?” you inquired. “You’ve been preparing yourself for the last two days.”

He chuckled lightly, a softness in his eyes. “I need to tell you something about it."

"Look," you began, hugging your own arms around your body. "You don't have to."

"Pa—" Secondo started to protest.

You gently interjected, placing two of your fingers on his lips. "It's fine. You have your date. I was just confusing things, and we're just friends, right?" A small, reassuring smile graced your lips.

"Pasticcina..." he said against your fingers on his lips. He gently took your hand, the one that covered his lips, and brought it to his own cheek, holding it there. "Don't do it like that. Don't say things like that," his eyes pleaded with yours. "Listen to me."

You retracted your hand from his face and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "It's all fine," you whispered close to his cheek, hovering your nose near it. "I should be going now. I'm sorry for what I said at the confessional and for what I said now. I guess I just lost myself for a moment. That was a mistake."

As you uttered those words, you took a decisive step away from Secondo, moving towards the door. The weight of unspoken emotions lingered in the air, and amidst the charged atmosphere, you heard Secondo calling your name. The temptation to look back tugged at you, but you resisted. Turning back would only complicate things, and deep down, you knew you shouldn't. In the end, it all became a silent struggle between the desire to stay and the doubt if leaving was the right choice.

Lying in bed, you remained still, the passing minutes or perhaps hours slipping by unnoticed. The events of the previous night lingered in your thoughts, casting a peculiar spell over your mind. As you replayed the scene, questions swirled, and a prominent one stood out – why did he kiss you? The weight of that unanswered question settled in your mind, weaving a web of contemplation as the kiss seemed like a gesture of compassion, as if your revelation might prompt Secondo to grant you your deepest longing at that instant. However, he wouldn't behave in such a manner, not just with you, but with anyone else. This wasn't the Secondo you were familiar with.

Immersed in your contemplations, the persistent curiosity continued to tug at your thoughts. It resembled a puzzle with crucial pieces missing, each reflection spawning more unanswered questions. In an attempt to regain focus, you decided to rise, take a shower, and prepare for the day. As a member of his Clergy, your responsibilities called for attention, and dwelling on thoughts of him could no longer detain you in bed. Nevertheless, the images from the previous night lingered in your mind. A subtle but undeniable sense of change permeated your thoughts, leaving you with a perplexing feeling that the nature of this shift eluded your understanding.

Setting those lingering thoughts aside, you proceeded with your bath. Once you were done, you exited the bathroom and returned to your room to attire yourself for the day. Despite being plagued by the memory of Secondo's lingering kiss, you remained committed to fulfilling your duties, even if starting the day later than planned.

As you left your room and made your way to the cabinet, you hoped that immersing yourself in work would serve as a welcomed distraction. Your silent pleas for tranquility were directed to the Dark One as you navigated the corridors. In a way, you found yourself praying to avoid encountering Secondo, at least for the time being. Yet, it seemed the Dark One remained indifferent to your pleads.

"Deacon," Secondo's voice reached your ears as you halted in front of your door.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. "Papa," you acknowledged.

Secondo lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, then cleared his throat. "I— Will you be attending the lunch meeting today?"

"Maybe," you replied, uncertainty lacing your words.

Secondo's eyes held a subtle intensity, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension between you two from the previous night. As you exchanged glances, the atmosphere seemed to sway between hot and cold, the lingering memory of the kiss casting a shadow over you both.

"Maybe," you repeated, your response holding a hint of reservation.

"Decisions regarding the upcoming ritual need to be discussed," Secondo remarked, shifting the conversation. "Your presence is crucial in this, Deacon. The ritual details demand meticulous attention."

You nodded. "Certainly, Papa. However, I thought all the details had already been finalized."

Secondo parted his lips, seemingly about to say something, but the door to his office creaked open. A Sister of sin emerged, casting a curious glance in your direction.

"Papa," she called him, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

"Ah, sorella," Secondo acknowledged, his focus briefly shifting. "Deacon, we shall resume this discussion later," he said it, entering his office.

You retreated from the corridor, entering your cabinet as the door to Secondo's office closed behind him and the Sister of sin. The encounter left a questions in your mind, a quiet curiosity about the identity of the sister and the nature of their interaction. Could she be the date Secondo had been preparing for? The thought lingered, but you pushed it aside, realizing that this wasn't the moment to dwell on such matters.

You had a portion of work to complete before the lunch meeting, and that became your immediate focus. Whoever the Sister in Secondo's office was creeping your thoughts. To the point you had to remind yourself: you're friends, he has a date, the kiss was a mistake, merely a result of your inadvertent encouragement. This internal mantra aimed to clear the air of any unresolved tensions as you delved into your tasks.

And then, doubts lingered in the recesses of your mind. What if you were wrong? What if Secondo desired the kiss as much as you did, and your inadvertent admission gave him the courage to express his own feelings? But you pushed aside those thoughts.

But, unfortunately, nothing could entirely distract you from the thoughts about Secondo and suddenly, you found yourself standing in front of his door, clutching some papers as a feeble excuse to engage in conversation. Hesitation seized you, torn between knocking and retreating. The uncertainty loomed, as if uttering words might unravel the mystery, yet also deepen the intricate layers of your connection with Secondo.

You knocked on the door, but there was no immediate response. A subtle anxiety crept in, contemplating the possibility that Secondo might be deliberately ignoring you. Knocking again, the silence persisted, leaving a sense of unease. Pressing your ear against the door, you strained to catch any sound from within. Unable to resist, you pushed the door open, only to find Secondo's office empty.

Surveying the room, you found no trace of Secondo, except for his mitra on the desk and his robe hanging in its usual spot. You stepped inside, making your way towards the desk. Your fingers traced the contours of his mitra, and a silent reflection crept you. With a sigh, you carefully placed the mitra back where it belonged.

Your fingers traced over some papers on top of his desk, absentmindedly observing them. Before you could delve into their contents, his office door swung open, prompting you to swiftly redirect your attention towards him as he entered.

"Deacon?" Secondo said as he entered the room, his gaze meeting yours.

"Papa," you responded, maintaining a composed demeanor.

He approached his desk, eyeing the papers you had touched with a subtle curiosity. "Is there something you need? How is work?"

"No, not really. I was just finalizing some documents for the upcoming ritual," you explained, your tone professional as you placed the folders on his desk. "Do you have any specific preferences or changes you'd like to make?"

Secondo paused, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "No, proceed as planned. But, that's something we should discuss at the lunch," he added.

"Understood," you replied.

"So shall we?" Secondo inquired, his eyes holding a subtle invitation.

"Shall we... what?" you responded, a touch of confusion in your tone.

"The lunch meeting," he clarified, his gaze lingering on you. "It's almost time for it."

“Already?” you questioned, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. The realization hit you – you had been away from your cabinet since the early hours of the morning, losing track of your usual morning routine.

Turning your gaze back to him, you nodded in agreement. Secondo graciously pushed the door open for you, and you began to walk in its direction, with him following suit. As you both exited his office, Secondo closed the door behind him and gave a friendly pat on your back, signaling for you to start walking together. Following his lead, you stepped in stride with him.

"Papa," you called, turning to face him, your gaze seeking his attention.

"Hm?" he responded with a casual sound, maintaining his forward gaze.

"Are you okay?" you inquired, tilting your head.

"Sì, Deacon," he replied. "You?"

"Good," you nodded, turning your attention back to the corridor.

As you both continued walking towards the meeting place, you noticed that Secondo's hand remained on your back, providing an oddly comforting yet tense sensation. The prolonged contact sent a subtle shiver through your entire body.

"Papa," you called out once more.

"Sì?" he replied, his voice slightly raspy.

"About the ritual," you began, your tone shifting to a more serious note. "Is everything in place?"

"As far as I know, everything is in order," he reassured.

"That's good to hear," you nodded, appreciatively.

"Of course," Secondo affirmed.

"Pap—"

Secondo’s hand left your back and gripped the back of your neck. In a swift motion, he turned, pressing you against the wall. However, his other hand intercepted the impact, ensuring your head wouldn’t hit the hard surface. The unexpected closeness made your heart race as you locked eyes with him.

"Stop," Secondo's voice held a seriousness that caught you off guard. "Stop treating me like the others," he furrowed his brows. "You're not like that."

"But, we are in public, and normally I call you—"

Secondo interjected, leaning closer, his hand finding the wall right next to your head. "There is no one around us."

"Does it matter?" you retorted, trying to maintain a semblance of composure despite the closeness. "We have roles to play, Secondo. We are just keeping up with our roles."

His gaze lingered on yours, holding frustration and something deeper. "Our roles?" he scoffed. "We're not puppets, and this... pretending is driving me insane."

"You? Insane?" you challenged, your voice almost a whisper. "What are you trying to say, Secondo?"

He pulled back slightly, but his eyes remained locked onto yours. "I'm saying that..."

Before Secondo could say it, the distant sound of footsteps reached both of you, echoing through the corridor. Secondo swiftly pulled back, his expression unreadable. A shadowy figure approached the scene. It was a Sibling of Sin, their presence injecting an element of formality into the atmosphere. Secondo straightened himself, adopting a more composed demeanor.

The Sibling passed through, offering a polite nod to both of you. As she disappeared down the corridor, Secondo took a moment to compose himself. He resumed his walk to the lunch meeting, and you followed suit. An uneasy silence settled between the two of you, and perhaps for the first time, his silence weighed heavily on you.

Upon reaching the lunch meeting place, Secondo paused at the entrance. Sensing something amiss, you moved closer and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Secondo, are you okay?” you asked, concern etched on your face.

He cast a quick, vulnerable glance at you. "I—," he sighed and shifted his gaze to meet yours. "Did I mess everything up?"

"What are you talking about?" you inquired, your hand moving from his shoulder to gently cup his cheek.

Secondo took a deep breath, his eyes holding hesitation and longing. "About last night..." he began.

"What about it?" you asked, searching his eyes for clues.

"The kiss," he said, almost in a whisper. "Was it a mistake?"

Your heart fluttered, but you held back your true feelings. "Everything is okay, Secondo," you replied, offering a reassuring smile. "No need to worry about it."

Secondo's eyes lingered on yours, a silent plea hidden within them. "Deacon," he started.

Your heart raced at the intensity of his gaze. "Y-yes?" you inquired, your voice slightly shaky.

“I need to know,” Secondo began cautiously, “Was the kiss a mistake?”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” you admitted, “but it was just a moment, right?”

He looked away for a moment, grappling with his own thoughts. “I don’t want to complicate things,” he said.

You reached out and embraced Secondo. “It doesn’t have to complicate anything,” you whispered. “We’re still friends. Don’t worry.”

He hesitated for a moment, then his arms circled around you in return, holding you closer. Secondo pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I just don’t want to lose what we have, pasticcina.”

You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his. “You won’t,” you assured him. “Now, let’s go in for the lunch meeting, and we can talk about that later."

"No," he softly uttered, releasing your shoulders. "Deacon, we need to talk now."

"I'm listening," you replied, grabbing one of his hands.

But before he could say anything, the door of the meeting room where the lunch was happening opened, prompting you to release his hand. Turning your head, you looked at the ritualist who stood there in front of you, while Secondo's attention was solely fixed on the fact that you had left his hand. His gaze was locked on his hand without yours, seemingly indifferent to the presence of the ritualist.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, relief in his voice. "I was about to go find you," he said turning his eyes to you. "And I can see the Deacon will grace us with their presence today."

You nodded in acknowledgment with a polite smile. Secondo, however, maintained a stoic expression. The ritualist gestured toward the open door, signaling for you both to enter the meeting room. Secondo finally moved and entered, and you followed suit, stepping inside after him. As the ritualist closed the door and returned to his seat, Secondo turned to you, lowering his head closer to yours.

"We will talk later," he whispered, his words brushing close to your ear.

As he pulled away, you couldn't help but feel the lingering anticipation of a conversation yet to unfold. You looked at him, nodding slowly. Secondo shot you a small grin and moved towards the main chair. Taking a deep breath, you walked to your chair as well, settling in among the other members of the clergy.

As the lunch meeting unfolded, you found yourself engrossed in discussions about the upcoming ritual. The atmosphere was tense, with various opinions being exchanged. Despite the serious nature of the conversation, your eyes kept drifting to Secondo, who was seated across the room. You couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on you as well. Every time your eyes met, a subtle tension hung in the air, creating a silent dialogue that seemed to transcend the confines of the meeting room.

As the meeting concluded, Clergy members began rising from their seats, making their way towards the exit. You and Secondo followed suit, standing up to leave the room. Together, you walked back together towards your offices. Even in the short distance, you could feel the electrifying tension between you two. His hand brushed against yours a few times, sending a rush of warmth through your body, yet he didn't hold it. Instead, his pinky finger subtly grazed yours, a playful and intimate touch that made you blush.

Secondo's gaze swept over the surroundings, his hand gripping yours gently with interwoven fingers. "Are you too busy this afternoon?" he inquired, his voice lowered.

You turned to meet his gaze and shook your head in the negative.

"Molto bene," he nodded once. "So, would you come with me to my office, sì?"

"Y-yes..." you stammered, a lingering blush on your cheeks, and a newfound layer of shyness stemming from the gentle hold of his hand. "But why?"

"Because we need to talk," he replied.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, anxiety momentarily overshadowing the lingering shyness. You took a deep breath. "O-Of course."

He hummed in contentment, his lips curving into a grin as you continued walking to his office, hands still entwined. The sensation was almost overwhelming for you; feeling him this way was different. Though you had held hands before, this time it carried a distinct and unfamiliar weight. It felt different—you felt different.

Yet, this did little to soothe your nerves. Whatever he wanted to discuss was causing a ripple of worry within you. Today, Secondo seemed different—somewhat distant and cold, while also exuding a combination of incisiveness and sentimentality. However, beneath these conflicting emotions, there lingered a sense that he was grappling with something, something elusive that you couldn't quite decipher. The ambiguity might be attributed to his usual reserved demeanor or the enigmatic face paint that adeptly concealed his emotions when left unspoken.

Upon reaching his office, Secondo maintained his grip on your hand, and you could sense a subtle tightening as he reached for the doorknob. Deliberately turning it, he took a deep breath that caused his shoulders to rise. As the door swung open, he swiftly released your hand and stood motionless in front of the entrance. Intrigued, you took a step closer, realizing Terzo was inside the office.

Terzo turned his head towards the door, glancing at Secondo before directing a warm smile your way. "Secondo," he started, turning his gaze back to him. "I apologize for not waiting, but a sibling informed me you were in a lunch meeting, so I assumed it wouldn't be a problem to come in."

Secondo chuckled lightly. "Nessun problema, Terzo," he replied, making his way into the office. "Cosa ti porta qui?"

"Solo alcune questioni da discutere e..." he paused, shifting his gaze in your direction. "Are you busy, fratello? I can come back later if you and Deacon were in the middle of something important."

Secondo glanced over his shoulder, and you responded with a gentle smile. "We..." He turned his body towards you, bringing the office door with him and briefly closing it behind him.

"We can talk later, don't worry," you reassured him in a soft tone as your eyes connected with his.

Secondo nodded, bringing his body closer to yours. His gaze alternated between your eyes and your lips, creating a subtle tension in the air. He took a deep breath, and you instinctively held yours, creating a moment of profound silence as you faced each other. His hand, having left the doorknob, gently cupped your cheek. In a tender gesture, he caressed your cheek with his thumb, the warmth of the gesture lingering for what felt like an eternity.

Secondo withdrew his hand gently off your cheek, leaving you with a subtle shiver and a lingering yearning for the warmth of his touch. His gaze held yours, as if concealing untold sentiments, prompting you to tilt your head in curiosity. Secondo chuckled softly, shaking his head, and you responded with a gentle nod while gesturing towards the door. A sigh and a playful eye roll from him made you giggle silently, relishing the special way you both communicated without words.

His hand returned to the doorknob, and he slowly pushed the door open, walking backward into the room without breaking eye contact. Once inside, you bid him a little wave, and with a final glance, he closed the door.

You finally released the breath you were holding, closing your eyes for a moment as a smile painted your face. It was undeniably something new, a novel feeling, but this wasn't the moment for deep contemplation. Composing yourself, you opened your eyes and headed towards the door of your cabinet, conveniently located next to his office. With a swift motion, you opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you.

As you entered your cabinet, you realized that waiting for Secondo to finish whatever he was doing with Terzo would stretch the afternoon into seemingly endless hours of pure boredom. With everything settled for the ritual, your workload was minimal, and the waiting game became an exercise in patience.

The minutes dragged on, and you found yourself organizing your cabinet, rearranging things as a distraction from the persistent anticipation. However, the waiting made concentration difficult. Your thoughts kept circling back to what Secondo wanted to discuss, creating a feeling of uncertainty that hung heavily in the quiet space.

In an attempt to quell the restlessness, you picked up a few documents, but your mind struggled to focus. The ticking of the clock seemed louder than usual, each passing second amplifying the sense of anticipation and making the afternoon feel interminable. The hours ahead stretched before you, laden with the weight of waiting.

After pacing back and forth in your cabinet for a while, you returned to your desk, sinking into your chair with a sigh. However, before you could settle in, a distinct knock echoed through your door. You turned your head towards it, recognizing it as his unmistakable pattern.

Swiftly getting up from your chair, you made your way to the door connecting your cabinet to his office. With a smooth motion, you opened it, revealing him on the other side.

"Hi," you greeted as your eyes locked.

Secondo casually lifted an arm, supporting it on the doorframe, leaning slightly in your direction. "Hi," he replied, his gaze focused on you.

The closeness of his presence prompted a subtle blush, but you composed yourself, taking a deep breath. "Was everything okay with Terzo?" you asked.

"Sì," he nodded. "Niente di importante." His gaze held yours, a moment of silent understanding passing between you. Secondo straightened, pushing off the doorframe, and took a step closer. "Can we continue our talk?" he asked, his tone carrying a mix of seriousness and something you couldn't quite decipher.

You nodded. "Of course, Secondo. Let's talk."

As you gestured for him to enter your cabinet, he caught your wrist, leading you into his office. With his free hand, he closed the door behind you.

"Deacon," he said, however, before he could begin, a distinct knock echoed through the room. Secondo tried to ignore it, intending to continue the conversation, but another knock interrupted once again. "Not again," an exasperated sigh escaped Secondo. "Come with me, let them knock," he took you by the hand, steering you towards the archive room of his office.

“What are we doing here? We could have stayed at the office, whoever it was wouldn't come in,” your grip on his hand got firm. “I can smell the dust from this place,” you chuckled as he closed the door.

"I've been lying to you," he confessed, his words tumbling out rapidly.

Your eyes widened in surprise and nervousness. "Huh? What? What do you mean?" you inquired, the anxiety evident in your voice. "What are you saying? Lying to me? Since when? About what?"

"Let me explain," he sighed. "I've been lying to you because there was no date, no one else. It was just an excuse."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What are you talking about? An excuse for what?"

He sighed, his grip on your hand tightening. "I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to take you on a date, but I didn't know how to do it without making things awkward. So, I said I had a date because I got nervous. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship or make you uncomfortable, I also couldn't bear the thought of you saying 'no'."

"That's quite a revelation," your voice dropped to a hushed tone, your eyes widening in understanding. "So, all those 'practice' sessions were just a pretext?"

Secondo nodded solemnly. "I apologize. I know it's selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of hearing you reject me. The pain would be greater than finding myself in heaven instead of hell."

"Secondo, your honesty means a lot to me," you said in a low tone. "But, I'm confused. Why didn't you just ask?"

He paused before responding. "I was afraid it would change everything between us, and I didn't want to risk losing you. I thought this approach would give me a chance to muster the courage to speak up, but it didn't until now, or yesterday. The fact that I have kissed you the way I did, and hearing you calling it as a 'mistake' made feel like if I had ruined everything. When deep down... All I wanted was you to see a different side of me, to understand me better, and maybe... I don't know... see me? Admitting it now makes me feel foolish."

"Don't say that," you took a deep breath. "Secondo, you should have just asked me. You're not going to lose me, and you don't need excuses. I'm sorry for calling the kiss a mistake, but I thought it was based on the fact that you had a 'date' and I was trying to ignore the fact that I wanted that, that I wanted to kiss you, but I was telling myself how wrong it was to want you. But if you asked me on a date before, I would have said 'yes'."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You mean all of that?"

"Yes," you said, your smile tender. "Well, initially, I'd might be a bit shocked, perhaps a little surprised if you called me on a date. I'd probably even think you were just being funny," you giggled, placing a gentle hand on his chest and caressing it. "But, without a doubt, I would have said 'yes' because spending time with you is always good."

Secondo's gaze softened, and he gently placed his hand on top of yours. "Forgive me for being selfish," he said with sincerity.

A warm smile graced your lips. "Consider it forgiven."

Secondo's eyes searched yours, uncertainty reflecting in his gaze. "So, you'd go on a date with me?" he inquired, his gaze earnest.

With a playful smile, you reached up, gently cupping his face, and leaned in, pressing a tender kiss onto his lips. As you pulled away from the kiss, a soft chuckle escaped you. "Well, I guess that answers your question, Secondo," you teased. "But only if you promise to not practice with me anymore."

He laughed. "Bene. No more practice, just real ones with you."

You nodded, and as the distance between you and Secondo closed, your lips found each other in a tender and sweet kiss. His hand, which had been holding yours, traced a path from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you closer. Simultaneously, you wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the warmth motion of his lips against yours.

The kiss unfolded in a slow and sweet rhythm, both of you cherishing the tenderness of the moment. As your arms enveloped each other, you could sense Secondo's faint smile against your lips. His hand left the small of your back and moved to your face, cupping it gently as he intensified the kiss. Feeling the warmth of his touch, you tilted your head, inviting him to deepen the connection. However, just as the intensity peaked, he pulled back abruptly and sneezed.

Your expression shifted from a dazed look to a bemused one as you realized the abrupt interruption. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and you raised an amused eyebrow.

"Apologies," he managed to say between sneezes, the unexpected reaction making him chuckle heartily. "I guess I've made a wrong choice of place."

You chuckled in response. "Better for us to get out of here then," you said.

"Before we leave," he looked into your eyes, with seriousness and anticipation in his gaze. "I..." he began, causing you to tilt your head, curious about what was on his mind.

"You...?"

Secondo took a deep breath, and the words spilled out, "Would you allow me to take you on a proper date tonight?" A smile played on Secondo's lips, his eyes searching yours for a response.

You felt a flutter in your chest and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth. "I would be delighted," you replied, your voice carrying a light teasing tone. "A proper date sounds like a wonderful idea."

Secondo's features softened, and he nodded appreciatively. The depths of his mismatched eyes held your attention. As Secondo leaned in, drawing closer to your face, you closed your eyes, feeling the anticipation build. However, just as you expected the connection to intensify, Secondo paused, pulling back abruptly to sneeze once again.

A laugh bubbled up from within you at the unexpected sneeze, and Secondo raised a questioning brow. He quickly shook his head, placing a finger to his lips in a playful hush. Without missing a beat, he reached for your hand, guiding you out of the archive room.

As you exited the archive room, returning to his office, Secondo gently pulled you closer and pressed a kiss onto the back of your hand, his thumb caressing the spot tenderly. "Can I pick you up at your room later?"

You nodded, a hint of timidity in your response.

Secondo grinned, pressing another kiss onto the back of your hand. He then placed your hand against his cheek, holding it there, cupping your hand with his. "I look forward to it," he replied with a soft smile, his gaze fixed on yours. Secondo's hand lingered, his fingers gently entwining with yours.

"You enjoy making me wait, don't you?" You teased retracting your hand from his face, slowly. "I'll see you later then."

As you turned to leave, Secondo gently caught your hand, pulling you back with a playful smile. "Only a little. Builds anticipation, sì?"

"I guess I'll have to endure the suspense then," you sighed with a touch of dramatic flair.

Secondo chuckled, gracefully letting go of your hand. "But wait, there's one more thing,"

Your curiosity piqued, you inquired, "What is it?"

Secondo cradled your face delicately with both hands, his touch tender, before placing a lingering kiss on your lips. As he pulled away, a gentle kiss landed on your forehead, and he looked down at you. "This is good."

"What is good?" you murmured.

"Le tue labbra," he replied, closing his eyes and leaning in for another tender kiss, capturing your lips in a moment of warmth.

The initial kiss was slow, gentle, and sweet, as if savoring the taste of a forbidden fruit. It left a lingering sensation of ecstasy. Every touch of the lips sent shivers through both of you, creating an undeniable need for more. Both of you surrendered to that desire, and the kiss intensified, the connection growing deeper.

Secondo's hands, which initially cradled your face, now traced a path down your back, pulling you closer. The tender exploration of lips became more fervent, a dance of passion and longing. His lips moved with deliberate precision, molding against yours as if searching for a perfect fit.

His hands, warm and reassuring, traced gentle paths along your body, creating a sensory map of desire. Your hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, Secondo led you to his desk, leaning you against it with a controlled urgency. The kiss became a deeper exploration, his lips demanded more, conveying a hunger that echoed in the shared breaths and mingling sighs.

As the kiss intensified, your bodies pressed together, Secondo's hands explored the curves of your body, his touch gentle yet possessive. You pressed your body even closer to his, a silent invitation for more. Subtly, you spread your legs, granting him more space, and Secondo wasted no time. Almost instantly, he adjusted his position, aligning himself with the new angle.

His hands, now exploring the contours of your thighs, pulled your hips against his, placing your legs around his hips. The sudden shift made you arch your back, a gasp escaping your lips, as you felt his hardness pressing against the warmth between your legs.

The passion heightened and you found yourself instinctively grinding against him, a subtle and spontaneous movement that drew a low groan from Secondo. The sound reverberated through the room causing you to press your legs around his hips firmly.

Feeling the vibration of your response, Secondo gently pulled away from the kiss, both breathless and dazed. His hands, which had been on your thighs, now migrated to your face. He tilted it, giving him enough space to press a series of wet kisses onto your neck.

The wet warmth of his kisses left a trail of sensations, causing a shiver to run down your spine. However, you gently pressed your hands against his chest, guiding him away from your neck. Secondo gazed at you with a perplexed expression, prompting a chuckle from you. Closing the distance, you bestowed a tender peck on his lips, causing him to briefly close his eyes.

"If you keep going, our planned date might not happen," you whispered against his lips.

Secondo groaned in frustration. "And why is that?" he asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"Because you're jumping straight to how I want the end of our date to be," you replied, biting your lower lip and trailing your hands down to his belly.

Secondo, with a tender smile, continued. "Now I can't wait for the later part of our date then."

You couldn't help but return his smile, "Well, if you manage to behave yourself now, I might just consider it."

He raised an eyebrow playfully, "Behave?" He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. "I'll be the epitome of good behavior, just for you."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your amusement. Secondo chuckled, withdrawing his hands from your face and guiding them back to your thighs, where he began to gently caress. His touch lingered for a while before he took a step back, allowing both of you ample space to recompose.

"At what hour should I pick you up?" Secondo asked, scratching the back of his head.

You paused, considering his question. "I don't have any more work today. Nothing urgent. If there's anything left for the ritual, I believe I've already provided it, and everything should be ready, right?"

Secondo let out a sigh, his eyes holding yours. "Unfortunately, I need you to review some documents Terzo left for me."

"Oh," you responded with a nod, making your way to his direction. "Certainly, what are you looking for?"

"I'd like you to carefully go through these papers, verify the information, and if any changes or corrections are needed, you know the routine, sì?" he explained, handing you the documents from his table.

"Absolutely, Secondo," you assured him, taking the papers. "I'll get on it right away. Since I have some work to do, I'll head back to my cabinet to focus on this task."

He reached for your waist, his thumb gently caressing it in small circles. "I have full confidence in your abilities, but you just have to give it a look and see if everything is in order," he stood up, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Now, any preferences for our evening plans?"

You pretended to ponder for a moment. "Hmm, surprise me. Just keep it interesting, and I'm all in."

Secondo nodded, and as you leaned in for a sweet moment, he did the same, resulting in a clumsy meeting of lips at the midpoint, sharing a gentle kiss at the corners of each other's mouths. Pulling back, you chuckled at the minor mishap, noticing Secondo furrowing his brows in annoyance. To prevent a repeat, Secondo cradled your head with both hands, planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

With that, you tilted your head towards him, subtly hinting at the desire for a more substantial kiss, and perhaps you were. Yet, Secondo didn't succumb to your charm. Instead, he gently held your chin and planted a delicate kiss on your lips, almost as if it were a feather-light caress.

You gazed at him, a mix of frustration and pleading in your eyes, your lips forming an almost pout. Secondo chuckled and shook his head. "As you mentioned earlier, we can't skip to the end of the date. Trust me, I'm just as eager to kiss you more. I've waited a long time for this," he admitted with a hint of longing.

"Have you?" you teased, biting your lower lip and looking at him with a mischievous glint. "How long?" you inquired in a hushed tone, leaning in. However, before you could bridge the gap, Secondo interrupted you by gently placing a finger on your lips. "Sec—!"

Before you could finish, he silenced you with a lingering kiss, interrupting your words. You smiled with his lips pressed against yours, taking a deep breath as he slowly pulled back. You maintained your smile as his eyes met yours. Secondo hummed in contentment, though a hint in his eyes betrayed the restraint he exercised in not kissing you again as passionately as before. You, too, desired it, especially considering the consequences of that kiss, consequences you weren't sure you were ready to face.

Recognizing the temptation he exuded, you wondered if it was influenced by the power he held as the highest satanic figure in the ministry. It wouldn't be surprising, given his proximity to the Dark Lord. However, there were still tasks to attend to before the date.

Exiting his office, you gave him a wave, and his eyes lingered on you until you reached your cabinet, closing the door behind you. Moving directly to your desk, you neatly placed the papers on it, straightening your posture before settling into your chair.

As you delved into the papers, the initial set seemed routine—standard proceedings of the ministry that required Secondo's signature. Everything appeared to be in order, so you moved on to the next document. However, the tone shifted when you encountered one discussing retirement. Your focus intensified as the words unfolded a revelation: Secondo was to be replaced by his younger brother, Terzo.

A sense of disbelief settled in as you retraced your steps to the first set of papers, realizing they were meant for the new leader, not Secondo. Continuing to read, the details painted a picture of a succession plan. After the upcoming ritual, Secondo was expected to prepare himself for the transition, handing over the reins to Terzo. The emotions intensified—shock, disbelief, and a growing sense of unease. You grappled with the unspoken truth that your moments with Secondo were poised on the edge of a significant change, a change he had kept concealed.

The documents unfolded like chapters in an unexpected narrative, each revelation carrying a weight that settled heavily on your shoulders. The impending succession, the shift in leadership, and the unspoken truths left you in a whirlwind of emotions. As you continued to read, the words became more than ink on paper—they became the unraveling of a reality you hadn't anticipated. The emotions surged, astonishment, apprehension, and an underlying sense of loss.

As you absorbed the weight of the revelations, indignation surged through you. How could Secondo have given you those papers without a single word of explanation? The sense of betrayal fueled your urgency, and you sprang from your chair, marching toward his office with a storm of emotions brewing within you.

The door swung open forcefully, a loud bang echoing in the room, but to your dismay, all that greeted you was an empty chair. Secondo was nowhere to be found. Running your hands through your hair, you took a deep breath, attempting to rein in the frustration and confusion that threatened to overwhelm you. You felt the urge to confront him, to demand an explanation for this clandestine revelation, but reason prevailed. He was cunning, slipping away before you could confront him. However, you knew where to find him – soon enough, he would be in your room.

Resolute, you made your way to the main door of his office, pushing it open and stepping out, leaving behind the empty space. The corridors of the ministry felt like an intricate maze as you navigated through them, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts about Secondo's impending retirement. The prospect of not seeing him with the same frequency, the shift in your role as his brother's Deacon, and the nagging question of why he hadn't shared this crucial information occupied your mind. Each step seemed to echo your internal turmoil, and as you approached your room, the heaviness in your heart became more pronounced.

Entering the room, you stripped away your clothes, preparing for a bath to ease the tension that had coiled within you. Submerged in the water, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, letting silent sobs meld with the sound of rushing water.

Emerging from the bath, you draped a towel around your body and returned to the room, contemplating the choice of your outfit. The question lingered—did it really matter how you dressed now? Nevertheless, you selected your clothes, arranging them on the bed. Suddenly, a knock on the door echoed inside your room, and you took a deep breath, focusing on maintaining appearances as you made your way towards it.

As you opened the door, there he stood, having changed his clothes already. The familiar scent of his cologne, intensified now, filled the air. The notes of the perfume, a strong blend of cedarwood and musk, lingered, creating an almost palpable atmosphere. He held a small bouquet of tulips in his hand. Though the bouquet consisted of just four tulips, the gesture felt both delicate and meaningful. The scent of the tulips added a layer of floral sweetness, momentarily distracting you from the turmoil within.

"Would it be better if I return later? I assumed you'd be ready by now," he questioned.

You took a steadying breath, trying to conceal the emotional turbulence as you faced Secondo at the doorway. "No, it's fine," you replied, managing a composed tone. "I was just deciding what to wear."

His grip on the bouquet tightened, betraying an underlying tension that mirrored the unspoken complexities of the situation. "Should I wait outside?" he offered, his eyes reflecting the uncertainty.

Shaking your head, your gaze pierced onto his. "No," your voice emerged slightly raspy. "Come in," you said, stepping away to grant him passage.

He entered your room, and a palpable air of unease enveloped the space. He cautiously closed the door behind him, and you turned away, pretending to focus on selecting an outfit from your wardrobe, although you had already placed the chosen outfit on your bed. The clothes blurred in front of you as you grappled with the turmoil within.

Placing the tulips delicately on the bedside table, Secondo's eyes lingered on the carefully chosen clothes you had laid out. With a subtle smile, he made his way towards you. "I know you've read the papers."

You turned to face him, your eyes revealing a tumult of emotions. "Why didn't you tell me, Secondo?"

He sighed, shoulders sagging as if relieved. "I wanted to, but I couldn't find the right time or the right words. I didn't want to burden you."

Anger, hurt, and confusion battled within you. "So, you thought giving me the papers without a word was the solution?"

He reached for your hand. "No, it wasn't the right way. I should have told you, but I couldn't find a way to."

Inhaling deeply, you briefly covered your face with your hands. "Secondo, please, just be honest with me. What's going on? First, the lies about your date, and now you're keeping things from me. What's really happening?" You implored, uncovering your face as your hands fell away. "We've been friends for a long time, and this isn't like you. Just," you sighed, "tell me what's going on with you."

Secondo met your gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to keep anything from you,” he confessed. “It’s just… there are changes, and I wanted to handle them before burdening you with it. But you deserve honesty, and I owe you an explanation.”

You nodded.

"On the day of the lunch meeting, days ago, certain members of the Clergy made a private decision regarding my retirement from the position of Papa Emeritus. I assumed you were unaware, and I thought it best to keep it that way," he began with a heavy sigh. "Later, Terzo confronted me, questioning when I would muster the courage to confess my feelings for you. He believed that simply having you by my side every day would be enough, rather than openly expressing my emotions. This situation compelled me to make a decision, leading to the idea of asking you on a date. However, as you're well aware, it didn't exactly go as planned."

"Okay, I can understand that, but why didn't you tell me about your retirement?" you pressed.

"I was afraid it would make no difference at all, that you wouldn't care about who comes and goes. After all, it's just work, sì?" Secondo responded. "And if you did care, I was afraid of what that could possibly mean."

"No, it's not just work, Secondo. It's you!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling. "Of course, it makes a difference. You're not just a colleague; you're my friend, the person I cherish the most in this Ministry. And now, you are... someone I... I'm seeing as more than just a friend."

Secondo stepped closer, his eyes searching yours with a soft intensity. "Pasticcina," he began gently, "I should have been more transparent with you. I didn't want to burden you with the weight of it, but I see now that I made a mistake."

You met his gaze, emotions flickering in your eyes. "It's not just about work for me, Secondo. You're not just a passing presence."

He reached out, cupping your cheek tenderly. "You mean a lot to me too," he confessed, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "And it terrifies me to think that my decisions could jeopardize what we share."

"We share so much, and this is a significant part of your life," you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand offering solace. "I just wish you had trusted me enough to share this with me sooner."

"I know, pasticcina. I should have," he admitted, his gaze filled with regret. "I see now that it was a mistake. I was foolish to think it wouldn't matter to you."

"It matters, Secondo. You matter," with a fragile smile, you whispered, "I don't want to lose you, Secondo. Not as a friend, not as... something more."

He sighed, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "You won't lose me. I may be retiring from this position, but I'm not going anywhere, especially not from your life."

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, gripping his shirt firmly. "I care about you, Secondo. More than I've allowed myself to admit. You mean more to me than I let myself acknowledge."

Secondo pulled back slightly, holding you at arm's length. "You are important to me, more than you realize."

"When did you find out about Terzo assuming the role of Papa Emeritus?" you inquired, curiosity lacing your voice.

"I always knew," Secondo confessed, his hands sliding to yours, gently holding them. "It's like we all have an expiration date," he added, a wistful smile gracing his lips. Your chuckle echoed in the air, and he responded with a tender smile. "There you go... That's how I like to see you, con quel bel sorriso sul tuo viso."

You sighed heavily, pulling him back to you and guiding his hands to your back. Obediently, Secondo wrapped his arms around you, and you nuzzled your face onto his chest. Closing your eyes, you surrendered yourself to the scent of his cologne, letting it envelop your senses.

"Mi dispiace," he uttered. "I promise I won't hide anything from you again."

"I knew that you'd retire from your role as Papa Emeritus at some point, Secondo. After all, I'm part of the Clergy," you whispered, your face pressed against his chest. "I just didn't expect it to be this soon, or that it would hurt me so much to see you go."

"Mi dispiace..." he whispered in a very low tone, almost inaudible.

"It's fine," you turned your face to him. "I understand you didn't do it to hurt me or anything like that. I know you well enough to understand why you made those decisions. But I also want you to know that you don't have to hide anything from me. You never had to," you said with a sweet smile on your face as you gently pulled away from the embrace. "But we have a date, right? Well, we've already had a couple of them, but today is an official one. So let's focus on us tonight, and tomorrow morning we can go back to being Papa Emeritus and Deacon."

"You're right, pasticcina," he acknowledged with a nod. "Tonight, let's concentrate solely on us and nothing else." Taking one of your hands, he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the back of it. "Are you going to get dressed now?"

"Hm?" you looked down, noticing you were still wrapped in a towel. "Oh! Yes!" you chuckled, heading towards the bed.

Secondo tracked your movements, approaching you. "Are you planning to wear those?"

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding as you gathered the clothes from the bed. "But, why? Why do you ask?" A touch of nervousness tinged your inquiry. "Is there an issue?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "You'll look stunning in those, and I can't wait to see it."

"Secondo..." you said, turning to him with a shy smile.

The room fell into a hushed silence, and neither of you uttered a word. As you both stood there, locked in a silent exchange, Secondo moved decisively. Swiftly, he grabbed your wrist, drawing you closer to him. Your body collided against his, and in an unexpected turn, his lips fervently met yours. With widened eyes, you observed the shift from initial intensity to a more tender expression, his hands finding their way to your waist.

Secondo's hands held you firmly, conveying a sense of security as you reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you surrendered to the dance of tongues as his traced the contours of your lips. Your response was instinctive, parting your lips to welcome him. His scent enveloped you, the warmth of his body against yours intensified the moment. His lips moved with practiced finesse, and the soft dance of his skilled tongue on yours cast a spell, leaving you under its bewitching allure.

The warmth of his body enveloped you, and the moment intensified as he continued to explore you with his hands. His touch, both firm and gentle, sent shivers down your spine as he traced intricate patterns on your back. Breaths mingled, sighs of surrender punctuated the air. His lips brushed yours, a delicate dance that evolved into passionate bites.

Your arms gracefully left his neck, and your hands descended to his chest, gently caressing it. As your fingers traced patterns, you felt the exposed part of his chest beneath your touch, as if he remembered what you had told him. A silent chuckle escaped you amidst the entwined kiss, one hand now delicately resting on the exposed skin.

Secondo gently withdrew from the kiss, creating a subtle distance while keeping his face intimately close to yours, his lips lingering in a tantalizing proximity. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," you chuckled, "I just can't help but find it amusing how you manage to be both charming and a tease all at once," your fingers trailed lightly along the contours of his chest as you replied. “At least I find your teasing quite delightful, Secondo.”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Delightful, sì?” His lips grazed yours with a tantalizing touch.

You playfully bit your lower lip. “Very.”

His breath hitched, and he murmured, “Is it fine to keep going?”

With a seductive smirk, you asked, “Is it fine to lose the date plans?”

Secondo’s eyes gleamed with desire. “Plans can be changed,” he confessed, his voice low and provocative. “We’ve had our dates, even if they weren’t official. I believe it’s time to skip to the part where we honor our Dark Lord.”

"I guess it is," a mischievous glint mirrored in your eyes as you agreed.

Secondo executed a swift turn, guiding you toward the bed, causing you to walk backward until the plush mattress greeted your calves. Secondo’s hand skillfully lifted your leg, and his other hand moved to the back of your head. In one fluid motion, he laid you down on the bed. As you looked at him standing before you, a hint of desire lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip in anticipation. His gaze smoldering with intensity. He looked down at you, a commanding presence that sent shivers down your spine.

"What do we have here?" he purred, his voice low and demanding.

You met his gaze, your eyes filled with desire. "Just a willing Deacon, Secondo," you replied, a playful edge to your tone. Lifting one leg, you placed it on his thigh, delicately caressing it with your foot.

He crawled on the bed, positioning himself on top of you. His lips hovered dangerously close to yours. "Willing, you say?" His hand traced a path along your thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You bit your lip, a soft moan escaping. "Very willing."

A wicked grin played on Secondo's lips as he asserted, "Bene. Because tonight, you're mine," his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory glint. "Confess your sins to your Papa, what do you desire most in this moment?"

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, a surge of arousal coursing through you. "I desire you, Secondo," you confessed, your voice laced with longing.

He grinned, his fingers tracing a teasing pattern on your skin. "That's what I like to hear, "his hands explored your body with confident precision, leaving no inch untouched. "I want you to say it," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you teased, “Say what, Secondo?”

His eyes darkened with desire. “Say you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you nodded in agreement. "Yours, Secondo."

As you spoke, a devilish grin spread across Secondo's face. With a swift movement, his hand reached your face, closing the remaining gap between you two. In an unspoken agreement, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

Inhaling deeply, your hands found their way to the back of his head, pressing his lips more firmly against yours as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Secondo lowered his body, creating an intimate connection as the warmth of his form pressed against yours, enveloping you in a heat embrace.

A blaze seemed to ignite within you as the heat of his body melded with yours, prompting you to arch your back and press yourself closer to him. Your hands traced over his back, fingers dancing along the contours of his muscles, exploring every inch of him in a fervent exploration.

Secondo's tongue delicately probed your lips, seeking entrance. You parted your lips slightly, granting him access to explore the depths of your mouth. The kiss intensified as he navigated every corner with his tongue. His arms ventured down, enveloping you and keeping you pressed against his firm chest. You could feel a growing bulge pressed against your stomach, sending a thrilling sensation coursing through your body.

A wave of pleasure surged through you as his tongue entwined with yours, eliciting a soft moan. The kiss deepened, reflecting the growing intensity of his desire. In response, you moved your hips against him, prompting a low groan to escape from him. He reached for your hips, pulling you firmly against him, now guiding the rhythm as he moved in tandem with your body. Your hands descended, gripping his firm backside, pulling him even closer to you. Slowly and deliberately, you parted your legs, inviting him to settle himself between them.

Complying with your desire, Secondo pressed himself more firmly between your legs, grinding his hardness against you.The increased pressure caused you to arch your back and neck, breaking the kiss as a soft moan escaped your lips. Sensations of arousal and heightened sensitivity coursed through your body.

Secondo trailed his nose and lips along your neck until he reached your lips. He pressed a lingering kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth, pulling it in a soft bite before releasing it. When you turned your eyes to him, you found him grinning devilishly.

"I want you," you murmured, your voice low and husky.

He nodded, a gaze filled with desire in his eyes as his hand reached for the towel that somehow still clung to you. Casting a silent question in his look, you gave a nod in approval. Without hesitation, Secondo swiftly removed the towel, leaving you completely exposed beneath him.

The towel fell to the floor as Secondo positioned himself on his knees between your legs. His eyes traced every curve of your body while his hands followed the same path. Completely focused on your form, Secondo's firm touch left you melting beneath him. His hands journeyed from your chest to your belly before reaching down to caress both legs simultaneously, prompting you to part them even further. His gaze was enchanted by the unfolding view, causing him to bite his lower lip in an effort to stifle a groan.

You settled your legs on his thighs, sitting in front of him on the bed. Your face moved to his neck, planting kisses while your hands worked to unbutton his shirt. His hands guided you to his lap, bringing your bodies intimately together. Sensing his hardness pressed against you, you couldn’t resist the temptation to grind against it. The friction heightened, and you felt the heat intensify between your legs.

"Pasticcina..." he moaned, closing his eyes, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

The intensity of your kisses on his neck increased, each tender caress leaving a trail of lust. His breath hitched with the rising passion, and you could feel the vibrations in his throat as he hummed in response to the sensations you were creating. You brushed your lips along his neck, tracing a delicate path until you reached his ear, where you nibbled on the lobe with a gentle tease. The tension in his body palpable as he groaned in pleasure. Pulling you closer, he pressed his hardness against you, his breath growing labored as he fought to maintain control. Swiftly, as you moved your head back to continue the kisses on the other side of his neck, he took charge, laying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, restraining your hands above your head.

Your eyes lingered on his body, tracing the contours of his muscular form. The sight of his physique, with a hint of a belly, didn't fail to stir desire within you. His chest, firm and adorned with chest hair that connected to the belly, drew your attention until it disappeared beneath his pants. The raw masculinity of his physique fueled the intensity of the moment, and you couldn't help but moan softly. The sight made you try to move your hands to touch him, only to remember he was holding them together. You turned your eyes to stare at him, and Secondo had a playful smile on his lips.

"What's funny?" you asked, a hint of irritation in your tone.

"Your face," he chuckled.

"Excuse me?" you demanded, attempting to free your hands from his grip.

Secondo lowered his face, closing the distance between your lips. "Your face," he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. "It's almost entirely painted in black," he continued whispering. "Because of my neck..." he licked your lips, coaxing you to part them slightly, giving him the space to slide his tongue into your mouth, kissing you passionately.

As Secondo released your hands, he shifted his focus, trailing kisses down from your lips to your neck, his warm lips exploring every inch of your skin. His journey continued down your chest, leaving a trail of desire until he reached your belly. Without hesitation, he ventured lower, between your legs, his strong hands spreading them gently. Secondo's touch explored the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The gentle yet firm caresses heightened the anticipation, and you could sense his warm breath against your skin as he inched closer to your wetness.

His eyes locked with yours, filled with a potent mix of desire and determination. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice raspy with need. "I need to taste you," he declared, his lips beginning to explore your inner thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he inched closer to your core. "I need to see the way you respond to my touch."

"P-please..." your plea escaped your lips in a desperate whisper.

He smiled against your skin, a glint of desire in his eyes. "You're so willing," he remarked, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh.

Your moans filled the air as his tongue traced the contours of your core, your hips instinctively arching from the bed in response to the electrifying sensation. Unfazed, he took his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue exploring and teasing your sensitive skin. With expert precision, he flicked his tongue over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your moans escalated with the relentless stimulation of his tongue around your clit. The desire to urge him not to stop lingered on the tip of your tongue, but the mutual groans exchanged between you and Secondo were testament enough. Overcome with pleasure, you trembled as one of his hands descended slowly to your entrance. A gasp escaped you as you clenched around nothing.

He descended, his mouth trailing towards your core. Using his fingers to part your entrance, he delved in with his tongue, exploring your inner walls with fervor. Your eyes fluttered backward in pleasure as Secondo intensified the pressure, his nose teasing your clit with each movement of his head. Deeper he went, tasting and savoring your essence. Pulling back momentarily to relish the sensation, he returned, this time focusing his mouth on your clit while his fingers met your entrance again.

A soft whine escaping your lips as Secondo continued to tease you. His fingers rubbed your entrance, a torturous trail up to your clit, trapping it gently between his fingers. "Just put it in, please, Secondo," you begged.

As he continued to suck and lick on your clit, Secondo slipped a finger inside you, curling it upwards to find your sweet spot. A gasp escaped your lips as he hit it, and he hummed contentedly. Relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, he sucked on your clit harder, causing your body to shake. Not satisfied with just one finger, he added another, thrusting them faster and harder. The intense sensations overwhelmed you as his tongue circled your clit and his fingers moved vigorously inside you, making you so wet that he could easily slide them in and out.

"You're..." you breathed, contorting your body. "You're... going to-ah!"

Secondo slid his fingers out from inside you and gave a final slow, torturous long lick on your wetness, his nose rubbing against your clit. "I'm going...?" he inquired as he supported his chin on your pubic mound.

You looked at his painted face, a mixture of grey and black and white due to your wetness. One of your hands went to his face, stroking his lips with your thumb as you attempted to clean it. "You're going..." your voice turned into a whimper as Secondo parted his lips, licking your thumb. "Secondo... You're going to make me cum..."

He grinned and shifted his weight, hovering over you. "I want to make you cum," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm going to make you cum so hard that coherent thoughts escape you. Do you want that, pasticcina?" he questioned, his voice low and husky, seeking confirmation.

You could only nod in response, the intensity of the moment leaving you speechless. His fingers moved down your body, eliciting shivers, and a gasp escaped your lips as they found your clit, swirling in slow, deliberate circles. Your moans filled the room, hips instinctively responding to his touch. You reached down and grabbed his hand pressing it harder against your core.

With a teasing grin, he pulled his hand away and rose from the bed, making you whimper im frustration. His eyes locked onto yours as he began to undress, his movements slow and deliberate.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"I'm thinking about how much I want you."

A confident grin playing on his lips. "You won't have to wait much longer," he teased, letting his shirt drop to the floor.

Secondo unbuttoned his pants, maintaining the intense gaze between you. With a seductive smile, he let them slide down, revealing more of him. He stepped out of the pants, leaving him standing there completely exposed. You gasped at the sight, His member sprang free, hard and throbbing with desire. He stand there for a moment letting you take in sight of him. Your gaze shifted to his eyes, and sitting on the bed, you licked your lips. Extending your hand, you ran it up his thigh, sensing the muscles respond to your touch. As your fingers traced upward, they encircled his member. Initiating a gentle stroke.

"Mmm... That feels good," he moaned at the contact, his head falling back.

Your hand continuing to stroke him. You felt him twitch in your hand, and you watched as a drop of precum formed at the tip. You leaned down and licked it off, savoring the salty taste. “I agree,” you murmured, biting your lower lip as your gaze locked onto him.

He emitted a deep groan, his hips involuntarily rising towards your touch. With a smile, you leaned down, enveloping him with your mouth. His loud moan filled the room as you sucked on him, your tongue dancing around the tip of his member. His hands reached out, holding your head as he gently guided your movements, urging you on with needy moans. Each swirl of your tongue and every suction made him growl.

"Enough," he gasped, his voice strained with longing and restraint. "I need to be inside you."

With a fluid motion, you straightened your body, your hands gliding from his thighs to his chest, relishing the sensation of his hair brushing against your palms. As your hands reached his shoulders, you enveloped his neck with your arms, feeling the strength of his grip on your hips as he drew you nearer. The heat between you intensified, radiating from his body as his hardness pressed against your stomach.

"I think I can arrange that for you," you whispered.

Secondo’s hands trailed down your sides as he guided you to recline on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. With a graceful movement, he positioned himself above you, his body covering yours.

"I want to see your face as I enter you," he whispered, his voice low with desire. "I want to make you moan and writhe beneath me, to lose yourself in the pleasure I can give you," he added. "I want to hear your cries as I look you in the eyes," Secondo continued, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, rendered speechless by the intensity of the moment as you awaited for him. Feeling the tip of him parting your folds, you quivered with anticipation. With a controlled movement, Secondo pressed the tip of his member against your entrance, his gaze ablaze with primal desire as he gradually eased himself into you. In one seamless motion, he filled you completely, stretching you.

"Oh, Satan..." you gasped, your voice a breathless whisper. "...So good," your hands instinctively found their way to his back, your fingertips digging into his skin.

As he started to move within you, a shudder of ecstasy rippled through your body, causing you to arch your back in response. His movements were deliberate. With a hypnotic rhythm, his hips moved in synchrony, exploring every inch of your being with a fervent determination. His hands trailed down your sides, leaving a tingling trail of goosebumps in their wake, heightening the sensations pulsating through your body.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in a fervent kiss, his mouth demanding and passionate as he claimed you with the same intensity that he was claiming your body. You surrendered to the fervor of his lips on yours and of your bodies pressed together. Each brush of his mouth against yours ignited a wildfire of lust, consuming you. As the intensity of the kiss peaked, Secondo pulled away, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You’re so beautiful," Secondo murmured, his voice husky with desire as he gazed into your eyes, his hands tenderly caressing your face. "I want to be the one to make you scream my name," he whispered. "I want to be the one who makes you forget everything else in this world."

"Make me scream for your name," you whispered, your voice a sultry invitation. "Take me. Claim me as yours."

With a deep, primal growl, Secondo's movements became slow and deliberate. His lips captured yours in a searing kiss, igniting a fire that consumed you both. As his tongue entwined with yours, the intensity of the kiss deepened. His hands roamed your body, tracing every curve with a reverence that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you. Unable to contain the ecstasy building within you, you moaned into his mouth as he continued to explore every inch of your body with his hands and lips.

Breaking the kiss, Secondo’s heated gaze lingered on your lips before trailing down your body. With a low, lustful growl, he whispered, "You're intoxicating, irresistible, just like the flames of Satan himself."

Secondo shifted his weight, supporting himself on his hands planted firmly on the bed. His eyes remained locked with yours. Feeling his gaze upon you, your hands instinctively found their way to his arms, gripping them as you spread your legs wider, offering yourself to him completely. As you tightened around his member, a low, guttural moan escaped his lips. With a fluid motion, he lowered his body onto yours, his weight pressing against you.

With a ragged breath, Secondo whispered hoarsely. "Cazzo, don't do that. Don't make yourself tighter than you already are..." His forehead pressed against yours, his voice filled with desire and restraint. "Merda, you take my cock so well."

You gasped at his words. "Ah-! And you fill me so good," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you met his gaze with fervor. "Fuck me, Secondo, faster."

Secondo's lips captured yours in a hungry kiss, his movements becoming more urgent as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. "I want to devour you," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky with need. "To lose myself in you."

"You feel so good inside me... I need to feel every inch of you," you said breathlessly, your voice a mere whisper against his ear.

"Then take all of me," he growled, moving his hands to your hips.

As he started to thrust his hips with growing intensity, the sensation of his fullness overwhelmed you. Each movement inside you was palpable, igniting a pleasure that bordered on unbearable. The rhythmic motion of his thrusts filled the room with the sound of your bodies moving together, mingling with the heady scent of arousal that hung in the air. With each breath, your lungs filled heavier, matching the increasing pace of his thrusts, driven by the rhythm of your bodies.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, your voice hoarse with desire. "Yes, yes, just like that, Secondo! Don't stop!"

He intensified his movements, his hips thrusting faster and harder with each passionate stroke. The echo of flesh meeting flesh reverberated throughout the room, a testament to the intensity of his desire as he pounded into you relentlessly. With each thrust, the pleasure within you surged, every inch of him filling you with a sensation that drove you crazy.

Moans escaped your lips with every rhythmic thrust, your body responding eagerly to his fervent thrusts. You felt the heat of his body pressed against yours, his weight bearing down on you as he held you close with an unyielding grip on your hips. The sound of his ragged breath mingled with yours, the rhythm of his heartbeat synchronizing with your own in a primal dance of passion and lust.

You gasped out his name, your voice a breathless plea for more. "Yes, Secondo," you moaned, "Don't stop... I need you."

Secondo's response was a growl of approval, his movements becoming more urgent as he surrendered himself completely. "I won't, I'm here, I'm yours," he whispered huskily. "Completely and utterly yours."

The intensity of the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you, each sensation magnified by the heat and weight of his body atop yours. Despite the almost unbearable ecstasy coursing through you, the feeling of him inside you was intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more.

With a fluid motion, you wrapped your arms around Secondo's neck and your legs around his hips, shifting the positions effortlessly. Rolling your body with grace, you laid him down on the bed before positioning yourself on top of him. As you placed your hands on his chest, lifting your body to gaze down at him, Secondo's eyes widened in awe, his gaze fixed on you.

"What?" you chuckled softly as you ran your hands along his torso, caressing the contours of his chest with gentle strokes.

His breath caught in his throat as your touch sent shivers of pleasure racing through him. "You're... breathtaking," Secondo murmured, his voice husky with awe. "I can't believe you're real."

You leaned down, your lips hovering just above his, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "Oh, I'm very real," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. "And I'm all yours."

With a playful grin, you withdrew your face just out of Secondo's reach, teasing him as he attempted to close the gap between you. Lowering your hand, you seized his hardness, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. Secondo's hands found their way to your waist, guiding you as you slowly positioned yourself above him.

You lowered yourself onto him, feeling the tip of his member parting your folds as it slid deep into you. A moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. Secondo's hands tightened around your backside, gripping it firmly as he pulled you down onto him, meeting your movements with urgent thrusts of his own.

"Ah!" you moaned. "Fuck, Secondo! Oh fuck! Just like that, yes yes, don't stop," you cried out, your words a passionate plea for more.

You felt the firm grip of his hands on your ass, holding and pulling you down onto him with each powerful thrust. The intensity of his hardness inside you grew with every stroke, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. As he filled you completely, his pelvis brushed against your clit, sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

With a desperate need for more, you rolled your hips on top of him, seeking out additional friction and stimulation. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, each movement igniting a symphony of pleasure that was impossible to resist. In that moment, you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving together, lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

"I'm going to cum," you whimpered, your hips moving faster in search of release. "I'm going to cum, Secondo, please make me cum," you pleaded, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum."

"Cum for me," Secondo pleaded, his voice filled with longing as he urged you to let go and release yourself. "I want to feel you cumming around me."

You cried out, the waves of ecstasy crashing over you as the pleasure reached its peak. In that moment, you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure, allowing it to consume you in a blissful haze of sensation and desire.

"I'm cumming," you moaned, your voice raw with desire as the pleasure crashed over you.

Your body tensed and convulsed around him, a groan of pleasure escaping his lips as he felt your walls clench tightly around him. With a final, deep thrust, he slammed his hips hard against you, anchoring you in place. His member twitched inside you, pulsating with the force of his release, and you moaned in ecstasy as you felt him empty himself deep within you.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. It took all your strength to hold on to him as the aftershocks rippled through your body, leaving you trembling in their wake. Your body collapsed on top of his, both of you breathing heavily and fast.

With tenderness in his touch, Secondo's hand left your backside and trailed gently along the curve of your back until it reached your head. He gently guided your face towards his, his tired smile reflecting the exhaustion and satisfaction. As his lips met yours in a lingering kiss, a sense of contentment washed over you both. With a deep sigh, Secondo laid his back against the pillows.

With a hesitant start, you broke the silence. "So... What was the original plan for tonight?"

His gaze softened as he replied, "I was going to take you out for dinner." He traced patterns on your back as he continued, "Give you the flowers, we would have a nice talk, eat some delicious food, enjoy a drink," his voice trailed off wistfully, "and if you wanted to, we could end up with a kiss..."

"A kiss?" you echoed, his brows furrowing slightly. "Was that part of the plan too?"

He met your gaze, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Only if you wanted it too."

You chuckled, biting your lower lip. "Do you think we could still salvage the first part of our date?"

"I'd love to," he replied, a glimmer of hope in his voice. "However, I don't think it's possible because I had reservations for us, and I think we may have lost the hour."

"You think?" You playfully arched a brow. "That's fine," you reassured him with a smile. "At least we had dessert."

He chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Am I dessert now?"

You grinned mischievously. "The most delightful one."

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he leaned closer. "Come here then, let me give you another taste of it."

Secondo shifted his body on top of yours, his touch gentle as he cupped your cheek with his hand, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin. With a softness that belied the intensity of the moment, his lips found yours in a tender kiss.

Grammar

Quegli sciocchi vecchi uomini - Those silly old men

Pasticcina - Little pastry

Impressionante - Impressive

Sì - Yes

Grazie - Thank you

Genuino, attento e premuroso. Posso farlo - Genuine, attentive, and considerate. I can do that

Mi dispiace - I'm sorry

Nessun problema - No problem

Cretino - Idiot

Bene - Good

Molto bene - Very good

Cosa ti porta qui? - What brings you here?

Solo alcune questioni da discutere e... - Just some matters to discuss, and...

Fratello - Brother

Niente di importante - Nothing important

Le tue labbra - Your lips

Con quel bel sorriso sul tuo viso - With that pretty smile on your face

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:51 pm]

Everyone who worked for CEO!Johnny could say he was a good boss. He knew every single one of his employees names from the interns to the mailmen that came in on a regular basis. He was friendly and never found the small talk with his peers to be annoying since he was usually the one to initiate it. He had even told his employees to simply call him John, no titles, just John. He was so friendly and open to being there for his employees that he had taken to removing the door from his office for some reason no one could remember.

Despite how friendly he was, he was also a very private man. He loved to learn and hear about his peers' lives, but very rarely shared personal information about himself. They knew where he went to school because he had his degrees up on his walls, but besides that there was nothing. His office was minimally decorated, no personal wallpaper on his computer, and they never heard him take personal calls. They had guessed he had friends just because he was so friendly it would be weird if he didn't. They had also guessed that a guy as good as he was would have to be taken.

Everyone in the office had their own theories. Maybe he had a college love that he was hung up on, maybe he was dating a celebrity and had to keep the details to himself, but the most popular theory involved you. You were on the board of a company that regularly worked with Johnny's company, so you were in and out of the building at least a few times a month.

A lot of the office wondered when you two would get together. Every time you came in Johnny seemed happier, more smiley, and laughing more. He took you out to lunch regularly which he never did with any other person from your company that came in. Some people had even sworn they had heard Johnny on the phone with you a couple times, his personal cellphone, talking about something besides work. Thus, a bet was started among the employees about when or even if the two of you would get together. The winning pot was big, with three of the main groups having already lost because after a month, 3 months, and 5 months there seemed to be no changes or confirmation between the two of you.

Today, the air felt different, the 6 month betters were more excited than ever for some reason they couldn't explain. Today, you were coming in for a meeting, and there was just some electricity in the air that they couldn't describe.

No one would be able to dispute that there was a serious lack of work being done while you and Johnny were in the conference room which was thankfully had glass walls. The noticed the smiles you both sent at each other, laughs that had to have been over something else besides the paperwork you were both looking over. Then there was the goldmine, the jackpot, a single lingering touch of your hands as you slid the file back in Johnny's direction.

There were whispers that the prize pool had just been won, and they only got louder as Johnny led you out of the office with a hand at the small of your back.

"I'll see you at home," you told him quietly as you both walked toward the elevator.

"Home?!" Johnny's secretary screeched.

You both froze mid-stride to look at her, taking notice of all the anticipated pairs of eyes that were locked on the both of you. Johnny lets out a surprised chuckle, “Yes, we live together.”

“Since when?” Another surprised voice calls out.

“Since shortly after we got engaged,” you reply calmly.

“You’re engaged?!” Various voices scream.

Johnny laughs heartily, “We’ve been married for four years. Why are you all acting surprised?”

“Nobody knew, we’ve had a bet going on for almost six months,” Johnny’s secretary replies while running a hand over her face.

“Dude- sorry, John. How could you not tell us?” An intern asks.

“I thought it was obvious. There’s a picture from our wedding day on my desk and I wear a wedding band,” Johnny shrugs shyly.

You quickly slap Johnny’s shoulder, “That wallet sized picture John?! How are they meant to see that?”

“I swear I said something before,” he pauses, “I told my last secretary… who retired at the start of the year. My bad guys.”

“Well, Johnny will make sure that he matches the prize pool with end of year bonuses. I’ll see you all soon, and see you at home. We’re going to have a nice chat,” you smile at the office, narrowing your eyes at your husband before you continue on your way to the elevator.

Johnny sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Thanks a lot guys. Wish I had a door to slam right now, do you know how long the waitlist is at our favorite restaurant is so I can fix this the right way? Two months. Can you let me in on the plan in advance next time?”

“We’re not going to bet on you finding romance as a married man, can you let us get to work now?” Another intern asks.

“As if you were working during that meeting we just had, forget about those bonuses now,” Johnny smirks.

His secretary smiles menacingly, “Then forget about that chat at home being short, I have backup now. And don’t forget who makes those reservations at your favorite restaurant.”

[happilysmythe]

are we friends, or are we more?

t. frederic x female mc

word count: 2.90k

requested: yes || no

summary: trent frederic is in love with his best friend of sixteen years, and he's finding it increasingly more difficult to hide it. so maybe it's a good thing that she practically forces him to go for a late-night walk in the snow.

i decided to play around with some third-person perspective this time. let me know what you guys think :)

“Mommy!”

The young girl shouted as her grip on the monkey bars slipped. Her mom, unfortunately, wasn’t close enough to hear. She fell from the metal and hit the mulch with a thud. Tears welled in her eyes as her nimble hands held her scraped knee.

A young boy — who seemed to be a year or two older — rushed over before her mother had the chance. “Are you okay?” he asked with a frown as he crouched down to her level. 

The girl shook her head and gripped her knee as she rocked back and forth. Her shoulders shook up and down with each small cry. The sight broke the little boy’s heart. He ripped his red bandana from his head and fixed it up neatly, then tied it around her knee — which was now partly stained red from the blood that dripped from her wound — and sat back with his hands on his hips.

“There,” he spoke proudly. “My mom taught me that. It should stop the bleeding!”

“Thank you,” the girl sniffed and finally lifted her head to make proper eye contact with the boy beside her. His red hair shone in the sunlight, and his face donned a proud smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied warmly and held a freckled hand out to her.

”I’m Trent.”

That was sixteen years ago.

Since then, the two were practically inseparable. Their old friends at school often described them as being attached at the hip. It was rare that they ever spent a moment apart, from their childhood summer days at the local park to their late-night talks in her apartment. Even at their grown ages, their peers would always make it a point to mention their envy of how close their relationship was through so many years of growing up together. They longed to have the sort of bond they shared.

Trent was positively enamored by her. Throughout his life, he only had one serious relationship which lasted for just under one year, and that was when he was seventeen. It wasn’t inherently special — though it gave many firsts — but it ended with no real conclusion. She would often ask him about it, but he was dismissive. Trent never told a soul about the real reason their relationship didn’t work out, and it was because of her.

She, in a nutshell, was his world. She was all he knew for so long, and it was the fate he chose for himself. Growing up, Trent was the loud boy in class, always causing some form of disruption — never with malicious intent — or finding a way to fail the easiest test in the world. But where he was south, she was north. His polar opposite, she dedicated all of her free time to her studies — which ultimately landed her at college in Boston — and would spend most days trying to keep her best friend’s behavior at bay. She was…motherly, in the purest sense of the word. She was the one he could always go to, no matter what time of day, or how urgent it was. She understood him on a level that he could never put into words, and for that, he was forever grateful. He found solace in her, both spiritually and physically.

It was just before his eighteenth birthday that he realized he’d fallen for the oldest friend he had. To this day, he was never sure what exactly it was that delivered the final blow and brought his feelings to fruition. There was seldom a time he didn’t wish he could go back and prevent it from happening. Perhaps, if he could, he wouldn’t have felt so stuck. All he knew was that it was becoming increasingly harder to push down the feelings his soul desperately wanted to come out, and he was afraid of losing the single most important person in his life.

Reminiscing on the day they met, the pair sat beside one another on the Orange Line — aged twenty-two and twenty-three — and waited for their stop. She mindlessly scrolled through her phone, softly humming a song she heard in a store earlier that day. The sound system on the train boomed throughout the car, signaling to the passengers that they were approaching Back Bay — their stop. She slid her phone into her pocket and slipped on her leather gloves to keep herself warm once they stepped out into the cool, winter air.

Trent hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from her all day. He didn’t know what it was, but he could only assume it was because they were getting increasingly less time together with him playing so many games, and it was becoming harder for him to keep his feelings to a minimum. Perhaps it was that, or that she simply looked gorgeous, having used the eyeshadow palette he bought her for Christmas just a few weeks prior.

“I love winter, but man, I wish it wasn’t so cold,” she finally broke the silence as they approached their stop.

”I know, but there’s not many places like this that you can spend it in.” His optimism shone through, as usual, bringing light to the dim situation she proposed. The pair stood up, adjusting their jackets. Trent wore a tan trench coat, and she wore a similar-looking black one, along with black scarves and the matching black beanies they bought a few years prior at a pop-up shop in Boston. “At least the walk back to your place isn’t too long.”

“You really are a big softie,” she giggled as they stepped off the train and the crisp air slapped against their faces. “All bark on the ice and no bite off it.” It wouldn’t be long until their lashes were frozen and their noses and cheeks were tinted red, but they didn’t pay it any mind.

She lived in a small townhouse unit just near the Back Bay station. It was more upscale and had a larger-than-average rent, but Trent wouldn’t let her settle for any less. Many of the less expensive student-populated areas weren’t always safe when it came down to it. Oftentimes he would front some money up to her to make sure her rent was paid, and although she always tried to deny it, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because they had such a close relationship, she didn’t think much of it, but it was almost as if he were trying to tell her something by making such large gestures as those. Alas, she never reached that conclusion.

As they walked down the sidewalk, she turned to him. “Remember when we used to go to the park between our houses back in St. Louis? When they had that hot chocolate stand in the winter?” He nodded in response. A moment passed, and a smile bloomed on her face as an idea popped into her head. “There’s a café at the end of my street and the park here is, like, three blocks away. Can we…”

Trent laughed softly and looked down at his feet, “Tonight? I thought you were cold.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different. Come on, for old time’s sake,” she tugged at his arm. “I’ll even pay. Please?”

He looked at her for a moment with suspicious eyes, his brow threatening to raise, but he folded as usual. He knew that simple things like that made her happier than anything else, and he wanted nothing more than to be the person who made her that way. So he gave in, completely leaving out that he had practice in the morning — if she knew, she would call the plans off altogether — and feigned a defeated sigh.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Thank you, T,” she beamed. Although her voice resembled her childlike self, her eyes said otherwise, as if to thank him because she really needed this; to get her mind off of things for even just a little while.

Together, they walked to the café — with her expertise guiding — and ordered their hot chocolates. The one who ended up paying was not her, but instead, Trent, who insisted on it and wouldn’t give her a chance to protest. The two made their way toward the park just a few streets away and sipped on their drinks — not before letting them cool down, of course — with warm smiles on their cold faces.

“Can you believe that you got drafted to a team that plays where I’ve dreamt of living my whole life?” she pointed out as the moonlight shone through the trees and lit up the path before them, coated with the fallen snow from a few nights prior. “I mean, what are the chances, you know?”

“I know,” he agreed softly. “I’m glad, though.”

“Me too,” she smiled.

Their gazes lingered on one another for a beat longer than normal before they both turned forward, and Trent got a glimmer of hope, although he could have been reading the situation completely wrong.

Before he could act on it — and likely foolishly, at that — he felt a drop of something ice cold touch his cheek, only to look up and realize it was a snowflake. The laugh that resounded from the girl next to him was laced with childlike happiness, and his face lit up.

“No way,” she giggled, turning to Trent as they walked on the empty dirt pathway. “It’s like a cheesy movie,” she took a sip of her hot beverage, “but it’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, his gaze locked on her walking just ahead of him. He gripped the foam cup in his hand — the heat suddenly feeling hotter against his palm — and the little voice inside his head told him that this was his chance, so don’t blow it.

“Follow me,” he simply instructed and guided her toward a tree just slightly isolated from the others. They tossed their empty foam cups and he stood next to the trunk to look out at the park. They could see everything from where they stood just under the snow-covered tree, and it was all so…perfect.

“Wow,” she marveled at the view.

“Hey, so uh,” he straightened himself out as she turned to face him. Her head tilted slightly as she looked up at him, her expression laced with what was a mix of concern and confusion. “I know Christmas basically just passed, but…”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small object wrapped in white tissue paper. “Here,” he softly spoke and handed the item to her without another word.

She wore a look of confusion and took the small gift from his hand. Her fingers gingerly tore the paper open to reveal what looked to her like thin, white cardboard. As she tore back the tissue a bit more, she was able to get a clear view of the purchase he made earlier that day.

It was a silver necklace with a pendant that was shaped like an angel. The diamonds in the halo glistened perfectly in the moonlight. It was a few hours prior that she first discovered the piece of jewelry, in a department store earlier in the day. The pendant reminded her of one that her grandmother had as a child but broke before she had the chance to give it to her. She explained it to Trent and spent what felt like hours admiring the pendant, only for it to be too expensive to purchase, so she had to leave it behind.

But Trent, of course, couldn’t bear the thought of letting someone else have it. A few moments later, she was admiring the dresses when he excused himself to the bathroom, only his feet carried him to the jewelry counter in place of it. Without a second thought, he dropped the money on the accessory and slipped it into his coat pocket, completely unaware that he would have the courage to give it to her that night, if at all.

“Oh, my god, no,” she gasped as her eyes caught sight of it. “You didn’t.”

“I know you couldn’t afford it, and I know it’s expensive. But I couldn’t let you lose it to someone else,” he explained softly. “Not when I saw how much it meant to you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she looked up at him with a vulnerability he’d only ever seen a few times in his life. She couldn’t find the words to express her thankfulness, or at least not enough to convey how grateful she was to him. Nobody had ever done something so sweet for her in her life, and it was only typical that he would be the one to do it.

“Turn around,” he quietly instructed and took the necklace in his hand as she lifted her hair. He took it from its packaging and draped it over her shoulders — allowing it to sit comfortably atop her scarf — then clasped it together. When she turned back around to face him, his eyes glazed over her with pure adoration. He swore she’d never looked more breathtaking than she did then, between the cold tinting her skin and the snowflakes adorning the tips of her hair.

“Trent, I…” she shook her head. “Why did you do this?”

He took a step closer, closing their proximity slightly more. A deep breath slipped past his lips as he silently took in her soft features for what could have been the last time if his cards weren’t played right. “It’s what you do for the people you love.”

The look in his eyes as they bored into hers was a silent plea. He wasn’t telling her he loved her like he had in years past — he was telling her he was in love with her, and he needed her to know. She matched his gaze and swallowed deeply as their surroundings faded into obscurity as if the snowfall had somehow blanketed them and isolated them from the rest of the world.

Trent stepped closer to her, and he could see the conflict painted on her face. He slowly lifted a hand — hoping to gauge her reaction — and placed it gently on her cheek. She drew in a sharp breath from the unexpected contact and he refrained, his hand just barely grazing her skin. He opened his mouth to ask for confirmation to continue, but she nodded before a sound could slip out. He couldn’t — and wouldn’t — resist any longer.

He leaned down and slotted his lips with hers. For a split second, she hesitated, but it took only a moment for her to melt into him as she settled into it and kissed him back. Every ounce of emotion flowed from their bodies and into their feather-light kiss. His tongue brushed against her plush, red lips, and they parted to allow him entry. He tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, yet keeping so gentle that it remained chaste and unhurried. She sighed wistfully against his lips, telling him without words that she was enjoying this shared moment.

They were completely dissociated from the world around them, only focusing on one another as his free arm wrapped around her waist and her hand found purchase on his shoulder. His grip on her rose-tinted cheek tightened slightly to pull her in closer as if this were all some sort of dream, and he had to take in as much as possible before he woke. And perhaps it wasn’t real, for the two never could have dreamt that they would ever be in a romantic embrace such as this.

Their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, tailor-made for one another — conceivably by some higher power as if they were fated to be each other’s beginning and end.

Their lips parted from one another, leaving only a few centimeters of space between them as they slowly, carefully pulled back. Their surroundings began to set back in, and the sound and feel of the breeze wisping in the air around them slowly came back. Her eyes flickered up to his and their gazes finally aligned, both of them wearing soft expressions. Matching smiles adorned their faces, and his bare thumb — cold to the touch — gently ran back and forth against her cheek.

“Think you can give a guy like me a chance?”

She giggled softly — the sound so beautiful it resembled some form of a hymn to Trent — and opened her mouth to speak. “I think you’re the only guy that ever had one.”

His smile grew and he reached for her hand. Lacing their fingers together, he held their hands between them without breaking eye contact. The pad of his thumb rubbed the back of her hand — which could only be felt to a certain extent through her glove — and she looked up at him lovingly through her snow-coated eyelashes. They remained wordless for a while, letting the moment sink in as they studied one another’s features for the first real time. To him, she was perfect, and to her, he was all the same.

From then on, it would be Trent’s mission to make her as happy as she made him for all of those sixteen years. It all felt like a dream, and he was going to make sure he didn’t let her slip through his fingers. He knew he would never regret approaching her at the park that day. She was the best decision he ever made.

She just needed to give him time, and he would give her the world.

© 2024 happilysmythe

[haecien]

Birthday Wishes X.MG

A/n - this fic is for my baby @mirxzii <33 HAPPY BIRTHDAAAYY !!!! I literally love u sm I'll try to get this out on march 20th or the start of march ! Also we are both march babies and your birthday is 6 days ahead of mine<33 (we are literally twins atp) I HOPE U ENJOY THE FIC <33 Also happy birthday to everyone else who is celebrating their birthdays on march mwa <3 (divider creds @/cafekitsune & @/saradika-graphics)

Also babka looks so good👁

Synopsis - Being an idol is tough, especially with your strict diet. You wanted to celebrate your birthday in peace but your company thought otherwise, but here comes your boyfriend to the rescue.

Genre/s - Idol!Minghao x idol!reader, fluff, secret relationship, tried to make this gender neutral so y/n is in a split group (kard situation just imagine whatever gender you wish to be! <3), also a mix between smau + written!

Warnings - Mentions of food, Strict(ish) diets mentioned, Cursing, Body shaming(?), use of petnames, If you find more warnings I should add lmk! <3

Wc - est 700 words?

You just got back from a fan meeting, you're so tired and exhausted from it. You were annoyed from how many aegyo requests you got today though.... but you're atleast happy you got tons of gifts from your fans.

" My God... this is a mountain of gifts, so many jewelry this time tho! — "

One of your bandmates butted in " Well... you did mention on a weverse post you been wanting to buy new jewelry, and it is your birthday soon anyways— " Oh, my, God.

Did you really just forget your own birthday? Your OWN birthday?

" I— I JUST FORGOT MY OWN BIRTHDAY. MAKES SENSE WHY I RECIVED SO MANY GIFTS I WHAA- " you again got cutted off but this time by your manager.

" Listen up, we have a busy schedule today and the next few days. And I know y/n its your birthday in a few days, we'll host a weverse live and all that— " " Will there be cake? "

" What? " " You heard me, will there be cake? "

If there was one way to describe you, its that you love your sweets very much. There are numerous compilations of just you eating and adoring sweets as your fans found your sweet tooth the most cutest thing ever.

" Y/n please tell me you're being serious right now— Some netizens are noticing you're putting on some weight. That's a risk to your image! " Your manager scolded you, leaving you and your band members to be silent for a bit.

Your bright smile quickly faded into a slight frown, you were about to say something but quickly closed your mouth.

The leader of your group stepped up and tried to break the tension, " Thank you manager-nim, let's talk a bit later since the members are tired from the fan meeting— I'll see you in the afternoon. "

Your leader bowed down, as the manager left, " Y/n, I know you're a bit upset but you need to know hes trying to look out for you. If they say you need to limit on the cake then you need too. "

You nodded, looking upset.

The leader sighed and looked at you, reaching for there wallet. " Lets buy some Babka, you said you were craving that right? " suddenly you wernt feeling sad, your eyes lightened up. You quickly nodded your head, the leader giggled at your expression and your band headed out of the building to buy foods and treats.

That was your boyfriend for you, the one and only Xu minghao. The public doesn't know you two are dating besides mutual friends and members. Really you both didn't expect you'd be dating each other, your first meeting of each other was scuffed.

It was just when you newly debuted a year after seventeens debut, you were both at a music show award and they won their first award. You rarely knew these guys but you felt so happy for them.

Later after the awardings you saw the same band backstage, you wanting to be friendly approached them. " Hi! I'm y/n from (group name) , I just wanted to congratulate you guys for your first win! " the member who was closest to you looked a bit confused but just gave you a polite smile and a simple thank you, it was a bit awkward so one of the other members from seventeen came forward.

"Thank you y/n, oh I'm seungkwan! That was the8, hes a bit shy and he is still learning Korean and English so bare with him please... " you laughed it off and said it was fine.

After that it felt like the universe just wanted to make you go together at every award show at this point, it was like you couldn't escape them.

So naturally you both expected to always see each other during award shows and sometimes even variety shows. Some of your fans started to notice it and made a little fun inside joke which you all talked about with each other.

When one group is absent the other gets confused, usually after the show you'd be frantically texting each other bombarding everyone with "WHERE ARE YOU" texts. Because of these interactions your groups were very close behind the cameras, so its expected the whole fan base would be shocked to see a picture of you and minghao walking together, alone.

The company cleared it up by saying how it wasn't really them, obviously that didn't work... but the issue died down and no one really remembers it. Non the less after all of that you both still managed to have one of the most best relationships you both have.

But, telling the members the news of you guys dating sent them absolutely going bat shit crazy. After that some members slipped in a little joke or hint about you two, though the fans suprisingly didn't notice.

Time skip — The day of your birthday.

The day has started and you open your weverse notifications and you were bombarded with happy birthday messages, all of your colleagues, members, friends, family all greeted you a happy birthday.

Your birthday live was canceled due to conflicting schedules and you not having the energy but you assured your fans about it saying how you'll do a live as quickly as possible.

Your birthday was great, it was still missing one key thing. Ofcourse the cake, you and your members had a little private party and your company strictly told your members to NOT give you any sweets or anything that might make you gain weight, all you could eat was stupid salads and like one cupcake.

What a killjoy.

You saw everyone else eating whatever they wanted, you envied how much some people didn't care about their weight. It made you feel sick over how people were just eating and stuffing their faces with all kinds of sweets, on your own fucking birthday.

After your little party you went back to your dorm, you were surprised to see your door unlocked though.

You swore it was locked an hour ago, what if someone went in? Shit worse a fan went inside and maybe installed cameras inside?

Or left a creepy note with cameras! Your heart was beating while you slowly entered your dorm, closing and locking the door. You heard a metal sound, its sounds like something fell from the kitchen.

Scared, you grabbed a umbrella that was beside your door and held onto it tightly. You ran towards the kitchen and just started swinging the umbrella around trying to hit whoever or whatever was there.

You heard a thud and looked up, " Fuck— HAO? "

Minghao rubbed his head and looked down at you, " Happy birthday? " he had cake frosting all over his face and hands, and chocolate on his lips.

You dropped the umbrella " Oh baby I'm so sorry for hitting you oh my— you look fucking messy by the way." Minghao rolled his eyes at you.

" Thank you genius. "

Minghao pulled you in his arms and gave you a little peck on the cheek, " Now your face is covered in chocolate too. "

" Ew, the chocolate tastes good but ew... "

"Oh boo hoo, I know you're happy to see me. "

Yeah, he was right. Of course you're happy to see him. The only thing that could cheer you up after having a shitty day was your boyfriend.

Even if sometimes your schedules are packed for the week you still both secretly met up on breaks, hey what can I say your companies are close.

You peaked behind minghao and saw a glimpse of a beautiful wrapped box before he blocked your view again, " Aha, not now love. Later you'll see what I have prepared for you. "

"Come on, you love me right? Can't I have a little peak? " you cupped his cheeks in your hands, shaking his head a bit. " Nope, that doesn't work on me. Even if it's your birthday. "

" It will ruin the surprise ! "

Minghao convinced you to go into your living room and put on your favorite show to keep you distracted for a bit.

— After awhile Minghao covered your eyes and lead you back into the kitchen again.

" Happy birthday my dearest, y/n. "

Your kitchen was beautifully decorated, the balloons in your favorite color, the smell of the candle filling the room. The snacks on the counter, freshly made just for you and him.

And most importantly, the strawberry cake on the table.

Your reaction made Minghao giggle, " I'm assuming you like it baby? " you felt like you were about to tear up, " Hao, I love it so much, its better than the party my members did. "

" Im glad you like it, I'm sorry if I don't have much for your gifts but here. "

He gave you an envelope, labeled " To my dearest, y/n "

You opened it to see a letter. You quickly read the letter ;

" My dearest, y/n.

No matter how old you're turning today, I wish I'd spend all of my lives seeing you. I want to grow old with you and stay by your side, I want you to be my first and last, the person I'd marry and have my future with.

I know things haven't been the most easiest but I'm so glad you're still with me til this day. You have dealt with me for so long, you helped me when I was at my lowest. I wish to repay you back with every cent I have.

But if I cant repay you with money then I shall repay you with my life.

Happiest of birthdays to you my love. "

TAGLIST — @slytherinshua , @weird-bookworm , @woozvc , @bangantokchy , @mayashu , @mirxzii , @glosskirt , @amxlia-stars , @addicsvt , @isabellah29 , @hrts4hanniehae

[redactahoe]

old friends die hard pt. 1

A/N: heeey so ive been working on this for awhile and am so glad the first part is done.

summary: for the past 6 months treasure has been… off. Porter didn’t know how to describe it but something was going on with his favorite human and he didn’t know how to help. The last time they talked was 3 weeks ago and since then they haven’t been answering his call. So porter decided the next best thing was to drop by unannounced.

Tw//: talk of missing memories and nighmares (kinda), porter is so soft for them its not even funny, this is also in the not so distant future where porter and treasure is an establish relationship, cussing, treasure yells like once

codes: (T/N) = treasure's name and (D/N) = darlin's name

The first but last thing Porter had expected to see when entering his human’s apartment was the living room to be void of all light save for the glow of his treasures laptop screen. Open and set in their lap as they sat on the couch, a weighted blanket resting on their shoulders as the skrunkly little cat they found on the street a month ago slept behind them on the back of the couch. a forgotten bowl of what he can assume is some form of soup sitting on the coffee table along with a half empty mug of tea in front of them. 

Glancing at his watch as he walked closer to the couch, it read 3:30 AM. his gaze lifts back up to get a better look at treasure's face. Their usual dark circles under their eyes somehow had gotten darker since the last time he had seen them. Their eyebrows were scrunched up in a mix of frustration and concentration, lips pressed into a deep frown.

“Treasure, when's the last time you've actually gone to sleep and had a proper meal?” Porter asked, having a feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be anything he liked.

“I don’t need to sleep right now.” they frustratedly almost angrily mumbled out.

“(T/N) im being serious…” Porter came closer, leaning over the couch and careful no to disturb the sleeping feline. He noticed that There were several pictures strewn across the couch and coffee table, some were in frames and some weren’t.

The picture propped up against treasure’s computer was of a tiny 10 year old treasure, In the front yard of what could be assumed to be their childhood home. They were lying on top and wrestling with another kid, pulling a smile onto the kids cheeks as they tried to push (T/N) off of them, clearly enjoying themselves. Porter immediately recognized that kid as (D/N) or Tank, Sam's mate and the wolf from the Shaw pack.

Porter picked up the picture to get a closer look “did you know them, treasure?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” treasured screamed out and through their hands up in exasperation before dropping them to bury their face in them, digging their palms into their sockets. They were both silent for a minute before (T/N) finally spoke up in a quiet and defeated tone.

“.... I'm sorry i yelled at you, it's just- I've been so stressed and so confused lately. It's been driving me nuts!” their hand moved to hold the side of their hand while the other stayed to rub the exhaustion out of their eyes.

“What's going on my love?” Porter's voice dropped to a low concern as he rubbed his treasures shoulders trying to sooth them as best as he could.

“Sigh, recently I've started to have these…. I don’t know how to describe it but every time i close my eyes I see them” treasure waving their hand in the vague direction of the childhood photo.

“But there's always something wrong with them, with their voice, with their face.” “Their face is always blurred out and their voice is always distorted.” “It feels more like someone tried editing them and everything related to them out of my head more than me just forgetting them or not knowing them.”

“How long has this been happening?” Now the porter was really concerned, It sounded like a memory wipe done by the department was wearing off. He’s heard of it before, it was a rare phenomenon that happened to the unempowered that were wiped but re-exposed to the empowered. It didn't happen often but when it didn’t it never ended well for the unempowered in this situation, in the three recorded cases the department has published it always ended in insanity and a trip to and a permanent stay to grippy sock land or the psych ward for those who are boring out there. 

“Ever since I met you”

“What was that?” 

Treasure threw their head back in exasperation “ever since i met you.” they said a little louder, they didn’t want Porter to think that he was at fault for their dilemma. It wasn’t, it never was, it's just that ever since they've known him their memory started acting up. It's like he jumped started buried memories to start resurfacing.

“But if it's been happening for that long then why is it now becoming a problem?” Porter on the other hand was more concerned about the fact this has been happening for a better part of a year now and (T/N) hasn’t said anything about up until now.

“ because only recently have the faces started to clear up, only recently have I've been able to make out any sort of facial features! And when I was able to see a face it sparked even more memory and caused me to rip apart my closet to find these pictures to make sure I wasn't going crazy.” “I can recognize the faces as someone i knew, someone i cared about but their voice and more importantly their name i can't get down, so I've been trying to find a solution but i keep running into dead ends.” (T/N) gestures to the laptop for Porter to take a look and well.. It was nothing but some Pseudoscience bullshit about crystals and shit that would most definitely wouldn’t help.

“Okay, your-” porter stops speaking for a second to shut the laptop before continuing “-going to get up and go shower while I am going to clean up and make you something proper to eat.”

“But-”

“No buts, go.” This was not something porter was going to debate with the human at all. 

So with the end of that ‘argument’ (T/N) got up, stretched(much like a cat, porter would like to add) and padded off to their apartment's shower, their fluffy companion following soon after.

As soon as his treasure was out of ear shot, porter pulled out his phone to call the only person he knew who could possibly help.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

Warnings: the usual for this universe with crass language and descriptions of bodies (flattering and negative) with use of the words fat, etc. some heavy petting and kissing and talk of blow jobs, age gap, mentions of drugs, mentions of and an actual enema described in the most respectful and vague way that I could manage? strictly caretaking in tone and help regarding serious health concerns

Rating18+: Mature for some sexual language, some sexual scenes, subject matter, dark thought processes and health specifics

Word Count: 10k ����

Special Thanks: to baby girls @stylespresleyhearted & @eliseinmemphis who’ve breathed this universe into being and for my friends who gave their input and assurances for this chapter. And to all of y’all who said to go full real and raw in this one, incorporate the hard and ugly parts with the soft and lovely -just like life. Thank you, this urging has helped me go ahead and write something I’m very proud of and hope touches y’all, too.

Graceland at night will always remind Gigi of the first time coming, seeing the house all lit up at the end of the drive's curve, window lights twinkling at her and the promise of his presence inside filling her with butterflies.

Tonight Elvis’ hand is heavy on her ankle and its little chain instead, as it lays in his lap as he drives them up and around back himself, the garage opening like witchcraft without Gigi noticing a single employee besides Sam down at the gate. What a change a week makes.

It’s his home, she thinks fondly at the sight of the back kitchen door. Seems ages since this afternoon when he sent her out here to wait in the garage as he took care of business. They must both be thinking the same thing as they loiter in the Stutz for a little while after he turns the engine off, as if scared some remnants of ghoulish Alden’s might remain inside.

She slips her hand into his big paw at last and he seems to startle out of a reverie in order to give her a tight smile. His sweaty skin glitters from the garage light and it’s muted and pretty as a painting. “Thanks for bringing me home, daddy.” she whispers and if a kid ever got the chance to be brought to the North Pole by Santa, Elvis ain’t sure they’d be more grateful than this shimmery eyed girl child in his seat.

Who the fuck didn’t want this sweet little thing? Who made her so desperate she’s coming home with a washed up old man who’s notorious for having a revolving bed? Elvis chuckles mirthlessly at the thought that even he is so beat that right now he is more preoccupied with how to distract her so he can slip away and do a damn enema.

Life is rarely fair, but it definitely ain’t fair to poor Gigi. The least he can do is tell her,

“Stay put, baby girl.” as he gets out on his side and limps over to the passenger door and opens it for her like his mama taught him, hoping he doesn’t look as stiff as he feels.

He must fail at that. No sooner does she duck her head and emerge from the car, one long leg at a time, than she’s by his side with an arm looped around his waist as if she could support him were he to tumble, kicking the passenger door closed with her still shoeless foot.

Nasty habit that, going around barefoot, he’s gonna have to break her of it, this lack of shoes, and she’s gonna have to shower before getting into bed, no way he’s gonna have grimy sooties in his sheets.

Gigi pulls Elvis’ arm over her shoulder like they’re two marines headed up a beachhead and he’s had his leg blown off, her smile is the only thing keeping him from shoving her off to prove just how fine he is. God. Why?

“What’re you doin’?” he asks instead keeping his feet firmly planted, blinking owlishly at her and she gives in to the temptation to swipe the mop of hair off his forehead. She thinks he looks so distinguished with it swept back, each of his striking features lifted by the volume. She spies some gray roots in the glow of the back door light and it makes her smile, she wonders if she can talk him into styling it the old way again, or a version of it. The way it naturally fell when he was licking her.

“I’m helping ya.” she replies with confused cheeriness.

“I don’t need it.” he insists while squeezing her waist in an attempt to make the blow land softer.

She gives him the closest thing to a suspicious look that he’s ever seen out of this guileless creature. “C’mon in honey.” he changes tactics and taps her butt, getting her to move up the few stairs to the kitchen and willing himself not to wince as he bends his knee.

Gigi is watching him like a hawk and it makes him feel very decrepit and he can just hear the ribbing from the guys about coming back hobbling after taking out a young lady a few years too vigorous for him.

That thought makes him pull his arm off her shoulder and he goes back to squeezing her waist. Which now that he thinks of it, she’s very skimpily dressed still. Just the panties and his jacket. Elvis hopes most of them have gone to bed inside or are out.

The house is far more homey when there’s less people in it, Gigi thinks, as they cross the threshold and no booming bass hits their ears or the tinkling den of party guests. Just the gentle clatter of cutlery and quiet hum of low conversation which ends up being Mary at the sink and Lamar still sat where Gigi got the keys from him at the kitchen counter, eating his burger in between sharing it with Dinah. Dinah who’s making chewing ground beef and onions an art form of seduction. It’s a little off putting if Gigi is being honest which she tries to be but Elvis makes an outright noise of disgust at being met with this in his own home.

“Fuck’s sake Lamar,” he grunts and his friend drops his bun in surprise at the sudden apparition of the two runaways, “don’t ya need to polish a windshield or somethin?”

“I’ll help polish your hubcap, baby.” Dinah purrs into Lamar’s ear and Gigi’s eyes bug about as much as the driver’s.

“Out, both of ya.” Elvis snaps his finger towards the door and Lamar lumbers by with a murmured

“Sorry EP- just sorta happened…”

as he goes with Dinah skipping past them with a wink and a tipsy gait that suggests smoking too much grass in one day.

“Jesus.” Elvis mutters, wondering what the hell is up with this group of friends and holds Gigi tighter lest she pick up on bad behavior as they venture into the den and past it to the living room, seeking out humankind.

There are no Alden’s to be found but unfortunately there is a scene unfolding on the couch of two frizzy blondes clawing at each other while unhinging their jaws like mating hippos, the better to lick each other’s tonsils. Dodger sits to the side in her usual spot in the rocker with her pipe, heedlessly crushing her crossword opposition.

“Tammy!” Gigi gasps in glee at her friend’s scandalous public behavior and the way her red acrylics have torn poor Jerry’s shirts to literal shreds, biceps and fuzzy golden pecs on almost-full display. Not that he seems to mind with the way his hips keep pumping up and his hands are wedged in the back pockets of her cutoffs.

“Jerrah,” Elvis thunders after her exclamation and only then does the hippo-love-fest- cease and Dodger raise her head in order to look Gigi up and down from the anklet on her footsie to the crown of her pretty blonde head, “the hell you doin’?” Elvis demands of his friend, “Comin’ into my home, fuckin’ up the place with b-b-barbecue sauce and ruinin’ d-dinner while y-y-yer at it a-and now neckin’ on m’couch? It’s new, man, got it last month!”

His irate voice turns into a whine at the end and Gigi rubs her hand against his chest in soothing commiseration. “Yeah Tammy, it’s new.” she echoes him.

“Who’s this?” Dodger asks, blatantly ignoring Elvis’ plight.

“I-its Gigi, grandma, ya met her earlier?” he prompts with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows that Gigi finds as cute as a little boy and she gives the unimpressed dame a little wave.

“So many girls in here I can’t keep straight.” she huffs around her pipe.

“Speaking of, uh, how’d it go? Ya know with-“ with Ginger, Elvis means, as he runs his hand down from Gigi’s waist to grab her hand and hold it.

“Oh uh,” Jerry rights himself on the couch and clasps his hands like he has some shred of professionalism left to him in that ribboned shirt, “it’s been handled. Wasn’t pretty but -well, the termination was pretty obvious. Ya gotta be a little more than delusional to push it when your ‘fiancé’ has left to go … out to eat.”

Gigi bites her lip to stall her giggle at his phrasing and burrows closer to Elvis while looking up to see his reaction, follow his lead. The man couldn’t look less sympathetic for her Predecessor and some guilty little cloud that has been hanging over Gigi all evening dissipates under the bright light of his justification.

“Good,” he murmurs lowly, “didn’t want it all fussy, jus’ wasn’t meant to be. Was wrong about it all.” and that seems like a very gentle and kind concession for him to make, just as he doesn’t seem to regret the fact it is very much over.

“Well, uh, now that’s been handled…” Jerry trails off in the manner of those waiting for recognition of a job well done. He doesn’t get it. And so he continues after a beat, “Now that’s done I’ll just be uh, on m’way-“

“-No!” Elvis protests urgently and suprises evryone with his vehemence. “I-I mean don’t go, I need ya man. I-I mean, ya just got here, ya know? A-a-and where’s everybody else gotten to?”

There it is, Jerry thinks with a sigh, he’s needed since the house is empty, it’s got nothing to do with being missed. “Well, Hodge and Ricky spent most the afternoon clearing Ginger’s stuff out at her request and tidyin’ up the master for when ya get back. They’re takin’ the last of her shit over now.”

“Oh.” Elvis accepts this with a thoughtful nod, “Thas good.” he declares softly. “Well, don’t go man, not yet. Not till they get back. You just stopped by and I ain’t seen ya and we can play pool?” Elvis tempts him.

Jerry tries to ignore the way Tammy’s hand has crept into the back of his jeans and is wiggling a finger at his crack. “Uh, ok, yeah I mean- ain’t you tired, Boss?”

“Oh jus’ need a lil refresher, then I’ll be back down, right as rain. I’ll smoke ya.” Elvis replies easily and Jerry picks up on the reason for his insistence like a well trained hound.

A refresher. Be right back down.

Jerry glances over at the cute little stage five clinger holding onto Elvis like he’s a teddy bear she won in a striptease carnival and he gets the memo loud and clear.

“A-a-and it ain’t gentlemanly, you leavin’ Tammy after such a display, a girl’s owed more than that.” Elvis gets desperate enough to pull that one out and Jerry hides his laugh with a dry cough.

“Yeah, yeah I wouldn’t wanna miss seein’ you.” Jerry agrees, “Came just to see how ya were.” he admits the truth of it. “I’ll be down here when you’ve freshened up.”

“Alright.” Elvis nods.

“What’d you two get up to anyway?” Jerry starts a conversation and looks to Gigi for an answer, she doesn’t seem inclined to answer, favoring petting Elvis’ chest instead, but when he doesn’t say anything she picks up the social cue and replies for them both since he seems tired,

“We went back to my place.” she admits breezily, “The only place we could think to hide out. I’m not dressed for anything much.” and she pouts in a way that suggests she thinks she is but an executive decision was made to hide her.

“Ya went to the apartment?” Tammy is grinning wildly and she scoots closer to Jerry, patting at the seat next to her for a juicy retelling. Elvis shuffles the Siamese twins that he and Gigi have become over to the couch and gently disentangles her to sit next to her friend, exchanging a vehement look with Schilling.

“Yes we did!” Gigi is glowing with the memory and his heart aches.

“Who’s this again?” Dodger repeats, too distracted by the sight of a panty clad woman on the red couch to go back to her crossword with full mental capacity.

“This is Gigi, Dodger.” Jerry repeats gently but with more volume as if that’ll sink in better.

“Yes, I’m Gigi.” she’s eager to make a good impression, bless her and her full cotton-crotched display. Elvis starts to creep away in a stealthy little meander from the couch now that Gigi is facing away from the stairs.

“You from Memphis?” Dodger asks sourly, and this plays well into his ploy, Dodger has two moods -not giving a rat’s ass about what happens around her or else being a goddamn one-woman inquisition.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Born?”

“In Memphis, ma’am!”

“Your parents?”

“Mama’s French but Daddy is from Hardiman county.”

“French, hmph.” Dodger picks out the one unacceptable nugget and latches on, “I went to France once…”

Elvis can taste the inquisition coming on and it should buy him a good thirty minutes. Thirty minutes should work if he can just relax and not fuck it up with nervous retention. A ticking clock always makes him clamp up. He bites his lip and reminds himself just how awful it would be for Gigi to learn what his regimen requires. He takes the first step soundlessly, then the second. He’s made it to the third by the time he hears a distant-

“Oh Gigi!-“ from Jerry and the feel of a soft hand on his elbow. She looks so at home on his stairs that Elvis feels like marveling, like she was meant to go up to this sanctum-sanctorum that he trusts so few to see. Not for the first time today he feels as if he’s being looked at with eyes as unconditionally loving -and presumptive- as his Yissa’s.

“Are we going up now?” Gigi asks in a giddy little whisper and Elvis wonders if she really just tore out of the living room and Dodger’s chat in order to be with him. Not even housebroke, this one.

“Gigi, it ain’t polite leavin’ Dodger like that.” he rebukes gently and the glee fades into consternation.

“S-she knows I went to help you!” she whimpers in protest and behind her ear he can see Schilling get up and whisper something to Tammy. It better not be any particulars.

“That’s real sweet darlin’ but I’m gonna be right down,” Elvis soothes, his hand cupping her cheek, “be right down, and family’s very important to me, Baby Girl. I’d like ya to get to know my people.”

It’s a thin excuse with one of those people being her best friend and the other his friend. He imagines it’s not the most appealing thing to sit and be grilled on genealogy by Dodger but Gigi is just gonna have to bear it.

“Can ya do that f’me Gigi?” he prods like it’s a great commission and she’s got watery eyes again and he really cannot believe someone is this sensitive, like God sent her out into life half baked with too thin a skin.

“Yeah, daddy.” she agrees softly, glancing up the stairs to where he’s barred her from going after inviting her up just this afternoon -it makes no sense to her.

He’s never seen a more dejected creature than Gigi as she slinks back to the living room, much to Jerry’s relief and encouragement, and takes her seat beside Tammy with crumpled cheerfulness. Elvis sees her wipe her eyes with the back of her wrists, like a kid, before perking up and turning back to Dodger with faux investment in the conversation.

Elvis climbs the stairs and wonders how he’s gonna manage this night after night. Hell, some mornings he needs it, too. Suddenly the irony hits him of wanting a girlfriend to stay only to now find the reality of that much too oppressively clingy for his pride. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do about it but for now he opens the padded doors to his room and notices with satisfaction the orderly sanitation that Hodge conducted on the place. He leaves his door adjar, no fear of intruders in this house with its well worn habits and spoken and unspoken rules. He calls up Yissa first and foremost, and while she’s in the middle of something she drops her project and they eat up a good bit of his thirty minutes with conversation. Not that he minds or counts. He’d sit on burning coals every night if that’s what had to happen to talk to his little girl. When she has to go he hangs up the receiver and goes about setting up his routine in the bathroom.

Below him, Gigi crosses and recrosses her ankles under Tammy’s smirking scrutiny and tries to listen to Dodger’s questions with due attention even as Tammy whispers filthy questions in her ear about her time with Elvis.

“Haven’t you got any shoes?” This is Dodger’s most recent concern.

“Yes ma’am I do.” Gigi patiently insists.

“Never see you in any shoes.”

“Well I- it was a pool day, you see?”

“If ya got shoes you should wear them.” Dodger moralizes and Gigi can see her point, even if she doesn’t agree.

“Yes ma’am.” she murmurs as her heart wanders upstairs where she’s seemingly not allowed.

“Get my grandson to buy ya some shoes.” Dodger points at her.

Tammy, who’s not even bothering to act like she’s listening to Dodger, starts to crack up in laughter at this berating of the point, she catches Jerry’s eye in her mirth and like lovers often do, they set each other off into a series of giggles that soon lose their context and Gigi is left more alone than ever.

She looks about the place and thinks of a million things she’d like to ask Elvis’ grandma, if he had a normal grandma. One of those cuddley, gingerbread types that the world had led Gigi to believe were ubiqtous. Instead there’s just this aged artifact from another century, smoking her pipe and staring at Gigi like she’s the oddity.

“Is that weed?” Gigi asks hopefully, nodding at the pipe’s smoking bowl.

Upstairs Elvis had slipped into a plush blue robe he uses exclusively for these purposes to keep the chill away, and having ordered his accouterments, had proceeded only a small way into his routine when the damn intercom blared to life and spooked the ever lovin’ crap outta him. He fumbled with his tools and lost his progress, angrily washing his hands so he could buzz back.

“Elvis, come get yer floozy,” Dodger was saying over the loud speaker, “she’s cryin’ in the den.”

Of course she was, he seethed and felt like breaking the glass in his frustration over no one being competent enough to wrangle a single teenage girl from intruding on him for half an hour.

“Gigi, she don’t mean nothin by that!” he could hear Charlie’s voice faintly in the background and the fact that even with reinforcements they couldn’t handle this made Elvis laugh in manic hopelessness.

“Tell her to grow up, Goddamnit, or I’ll send her home.” he roared through the intercom, punching the button with a vicious jab.

It was quiet for a few moments after that. Fed up and miserable with pain, Elvis stepped away from the button and grabbed another enema bulb and poured in the saline, warming it in the sink and slicking up the catheter with a lubricant that used to remind him of happier times -now his mind associates it with this. He released the button before hearing the response - downstairs Gigi’s sobbing whimper and Tammy offering her friend support by calling him an ‘ass.’

Unable to get the angle right he gave up his attempt to do it standing and grabbed his allocated mat for these purposes, fluffing out a black towel over it. This activity was something he did more of the set up for than anything else in his life. In decades. Having his crew carry the cases of supplies around was humiliation enough, he didn’t need anyone around him to get a firm impression of the details, which laying out towels and lubing up tubes inevitably gave. Mystery was important for respect, and there weren’t no mystery here. And little, if any, dignity either.

Elvis got down on the mat with a brutal pop of his left knee. He heard his own whimper and it sounded like a wounded creature, not at all himself. It was cold down here on the tiled floor with just a thin mat between him and the marble but he could lay down at least and reach behind himself and make his tense body relax enough to accept and dispel what it needed.

Getting up and to the toilet from the ground was the hard part. And he’d bite that challenge off when he needed to.

“Daddy?” he heard faintly outside his room, through the barrier of a wall and half closed door, but while his sight suffered and his body failed him, his ears were sharp as ever and for a brief moment his heart leapt at the unexpected joy of his Lisa coming early. Then he heard again, “Daddy?” And that wasn’t Lisa at all, she didn’t call him daddy and she’d never be so tentative upstairs.

Too committed to his procedure and unable to interrupt it, Elvis held his breath like he was playing hide and seek as Gigi repeated his name closer, inside the bedroom, gently but with so much sadness in her tone.

So she’d ventured up here anyway.

He tensed as she drew closer to the bathroom, drawn by the light under the door in the otherwise darkened room. This tenseness was gonna screw up his enema, he was gonna retain at this point.

“Elvis, you in there?” she asked gently on the other side of the wood and he let out a shaky breath at the inability to deny any longer, fearing she’d try the doorknob of he was silent and in his trust of his home’s stable order, he hadn’t bothered to lock it.

Gigi turned everything topsy turvy and he felt like a young kid again, getting overwhelmed when changes came to fast and nothing familiar would remain just so. He felt his breath coming fast and his vision starting to spot. Such silliness for a man in his forty’s.

“Yeah baby girl, I got in the tub for m’head.” He lied, counting on the compassion she had previosuly shown for his ailment to bolster his story. He has no body of water to splash for emphasis so he stayed stock still on his side on the cold floor and waited with baited breath for her to accept this. “And I had’ta call Lisa.”

“Oh good!” she cooed from outside, and he smirked at the confirmation that he still knew how to play ‘em. “You coulda told me, Daddy! I’d be quiet as a church mouse and coulda run the tub for you and washed your hair for you so you didn’t have to strain your shoulders.”

Did she think he needed to wash his hair? He put his hand to his head and felt grease and immediately regretted it as part of that was now lube. “Aww, you sweet thing.” he complimented her kindness vaguely even as he panicked at the thought that his lie would require a wet head. God he was so tired, he came home so he didn’t have to pretend and here he was on his bathroom floor, puttin’ in a Oscar worthy performance with a half quart of saline up the ass.

“You shouldn’t be so silly, Daddy.” she scolded sweetly and he rolled his eyes, thinking ‘if she only knew.’

“Oh?”

“I love to help you.” she insisted and she must’ve had her lips presssed to the door gap, she was so breathy and close, he could picture her smushed face now and he wanted to tear up at the sweetness. “Will you let me wash your hair, Elvis?”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not but he thought he saw the door handle wiggle like a hand had put weight on it. “N-n-no, I-I,” he stuttered out urgently, “I-I-I ain’t comfortable w’that.” he begged, “Not tonight i-I-i’m shy, Gigi. Believe it o-o-or not I-im shy.”

And that at least was a God’s honest truth.

“I know.” she murmured back and sounded like she was smiling herself, “I noticed. I didn’t expect that of you, but I really like it. Makes you cuter somehow.”

And being considered cute was a real heartening thing for a fella to hear, tipped on his side as he was, like a beached whale. Elvis grinned into his hand and let himself savor that. The feeling came again that Gigi really liked him as he was, except for his temper, maybe, and he could hardly fault her for not enjoyin’ it. But she liked him. As he was.

“I’m just gonna sit outside here and be with you.” she declared gently and to his alarm he heard the sound of shuffling like someone sitting down in front of the door, “We don’t haveta talk if you wanna be quiet. I understand, with your head hurtin’. I just couldn’t be away from you any longer. Please don’t make me be away from you, Elvis. It’s all I want, to be with ya.”

Elvis stared unblinking at the caulk line at the bottom of his tub. It was right at eye level down here and the varied thickness of it made him irrationally annoyed, he reached out and picked at a gloop of the dried stuff with his bitten fingernail.

“Ok.” he answered, utterly terrified.

How the hell was he gonna get off the floor, hobble to the John and do his buisness without the sound of any convincing bath effects -and her sitting right outside the door. How the hell. He figured it would be better if she were distracted.

“Tell me ‘bout your French mama.” he requests the first distraction that comes to his mind.

Gigi eagerly takes off on a tangent about her mother who was an artist and rarely in one place, how she had been born in Normandy and credited their breasts to good Norman cow milk, how she painted replica Monet’s on commission and was accordingly sued and how Gigi enjoyed being taken overseas to visit her French relations and go apple picking in the orchards and swimming in the sea -and Elvis listened to the narrative, told in her sweet voice, and allowed himself to be lulled, trying to relax before he made the effort to finish this business.

“-the seashells in Normandy are gigantic, some as big as my palm!” she was telling him as he sneakily turned over and raised himself on his knees, “Of course they wouldn’t be so big in your hands, your hands are so big and beautiful and could hold two of mine but -but they’re big. Does hawaii have big seashells?”

Elvis grunted in effort of holding it in until he could get where he was going and he still had concerns about noise with her right there. “Mm, pretty big.” he grunted out and a thought came to him as he gripped the edge of the tub for leverage to stand, “Water’s gettin’ cold, hold on sec I’m gonna top it off with some hot, won’t be able to hear ya.” he fibbed and reached to turn the handle so it gushed out a roar of water.

Satisfied with his cover, Elvis grabbed again at the tub’s edge and anyhting else that might aid his poor knees in getting off the damn floor. This is what trying to cut back on the pain meds got him, such debilitating pain that he could hardly get off the floor when just a few months ago he was able to kneel down for kisses on stage with only veiled discomfort. Not this agonizing ache and strange weakness in his limbs. He clutched at the tub faucet with it’s handled shape and pushed up.

He was a few pounds too much and after some strain and little progress, the faucet snapped out of its fixture with a deafening clatter that sounded like the ceiling had caved in, reverberating around the tiled room like a thunder clap. He fell back on his kneecaps with a searing thud.

“Lord have mercy!” he heard Gigi exclaim clearly over the roar of the empty tub, and that was because she was right beside him, having burst in with all that loving presumption at the first sound of distress. “Oh daddy, what happened? Ya slip comin’ out?”

She couldn’t get a good read on the situation with it so dim and simultaneously shiny in here, besides the confusing aspects of Elvis being dressed in a robe and dry headed as if having been out of the tub for awhile and him crouched beside it as the absent faucet still roared from its pipe against the empty porcelain. His bathroom was mainly gold, with flecks of black in the tile and accents and it disoriented her, so busy and gaudy she didn’t even notice the mat beneath her feet, assuming the spread out towel was another odd addition that went with the solid gold faucet lying wrenched from its place in the tub.

“Elvis, here, my hand!” she turned the tap off so he could hear her better and tried to get him to look up but his face was turned down with his hair hanging into his eyes. “I’ll help ya up, daddy.” she assured again, and stepped closer, crouching to brace her track hardened thighs for the ordeal of hefting such a sturdy man onto his feet.

On her way to him Gigi stepped on a clear little carton, rather like a baby bottle but far more collapsible. It was empty and squished under her foot, she picked it up curiously. “What’s this?” she asked him innocently.

He looked over at her then, up through a fan of golden lashes so thick and stiff you could hang your hat on them and answered in a dejected growl, “It’s a goddman enema, Gigi.”

She squeezed it once more till the empty thing wheezed and realisation dawned on her face. “Oh, duh.” she laughed and chucked it aside without a second thought before offering her forearm as a handle for him to grip, he rather dazedly let his hand curl around her tan flesh, “If you’re in here doin’ those ya really oughta have somebody nearby to help.” she berated him and once again he thought of Lisa and was beyond glad that it wasn’t his little daughter seeing him like this. No, it was just this big tittied sweetheart who he’d remember fondly through a haze of shame once she leaves him tonight. “Ya should have someone near to help ya get up if you’re in trouble,” she went on, “I know you’re shy. But it’s just me! I’m shy too and I let you see my pussy.”

Like that’s remotely the same as helping a man shit. “Girl,” he rebuts solemnly as he staggers to his feet with her help, feeling the liquid slosh in his gut, “some things are best left between a man and his toilet.”

“Yeah ok,” Gigi conceds, then strikes back right away, “but right now there’s nothing but a lotta distance between you and your toilet. Let me help. C’mon. This is a really pretty robe, by the way. You should always wear blue. And red, I suppose. You look so good in red. Well then there’s black, you’ve always looked good in black,” Gigi babbles and before he knows it he’s sat on the porcelain throne as she tugs the aforementioned blue robe away in the back for him, Gigi herself, lost in a world of the photos she’s cut from the papers of him at his concerts as she continues on “-and I like you in oranges, too. Never thought yellow was the best but I’ll have to see it in person. Pink makes you look kissable-“

“-Gigi,” Elvis whispers in a small voice, “could ya turn around, a’least?”

“Oh! Of course!” she spins around and faces the open bathroom door that she walks over to and shuts, confining them both in here. He means to ask her how she got away and made it all the way up here without interference, he has a buncha pussies for bodyguards. He doesn’t know Gigi was personally escorted upstairs by Dodger who was fed up with the girls tears, who pointed out the master bedroom doors and everything.

“You need to wash your feet, been in the garage and walkin’ in the street’n’shit.” he says for lack of anything better and to minimize the utterly irregerous ordeal of having a woman here for this. Bathrooms just don’t get shared for this shit. They just don’t. But here he is, losing control of one more aspect of his life. All he can focus on right now is letting the thing do it’s job so this ain’t a waste.

“Ok.” Gigi answers obediently and starts shucking her clothes without preamble, stripping down to her naked state in front of him for the second time today and she gives him a bashful grin over her shoulder like she should be the shy one before standing next to him again and turning on the shower tap. The tub and it’s damaged faucet is separate and he’s glad of the patter of rainfall that fills the room and after feeling it for temperature, Gigi soon steps in and begins a faithful lather of her body, starting with her feet.

Elvis watches transfixed as she sudses her little pink toes and the well formed shape of her heel and thumbs at her arches. He wishes to God he was in there doing that. As it is, the little show makes him forget his surroundings and he finally relaxes more than he had been able to all night. Suds are dripping off the curve of her titties like a chocolate fountain splashing off strawberries and he reaches behind him to flush without tearing his eyes from the sight, grateful for the distracting sounds of Gigi humming one of his songs and the fizz of the shower.

Whether the noise alerted her or she’s just intuitive, Gigi glances up as he gathers his robe about him and braces to stand up. “Daddy, I said Let.Me.Help.” she punctuates her sentence with aggravation that bounces off the shower wall like she’s in a stage play. She’s stepping out of the still running shower, all shiny and dripping, before he can protest, and she stands in front of him bare and gentle and he could weep at the sweet expression on her face, so devoid of anything but affection and determination to be of help.

He wonders if this is how mama felt, when she got tipsier than she’d ever have the courage to admit, when he helped her up stairs or into bed and ignored the smell of the alcohol and the slur of speech. The staggering ineptitude of a parent whose child has suddenly had to take over caring for. Mama always used to pat his head in the morning, a silent acknowledgment for his kindness but also his silence, covering her nakedness like Noah’s faithful sons.

He wants to cry. He misses mama so much, misses her assurances and her approbation that she sees him trying to do his bestest. He finds his forehead leaned against Gigi’s slick belly before he means to and finds he’s weeping with her hands in his hair before he can stop it.

“Daddy, sweet daddy, you bear up with so much.” she’s murmuring in broken hearted tones and he hears her sniffling too, and maybe it’s her saying it but it’s his mama talking though her, he’s sure of it. Here in this Gethsemane of his pride and dignity, he weeps at being found out and instead of scorn he gets warm flesh melding into his own and soft messages from his mama.

“Gigi -Jesus! -I-I dunno what to say.” he gasps, ragged and hoarse.

“You don’t? I don’t, more like.” she whispers fiercely, “The whole nation would apologize to ya if they knew how bad it’s gotten. And you never breathin’ a word. Lord daddy, you’re stronger than anyone I ever seen.”

He doesn’t feel very strong, staring at the broken faucet lying in the spatter of shower drops.

“Do ya need to do another?” she asks gently, soothing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I’ll get it ready.” she offers.

“No, m’set.” he mumbles.

“Be honest.” she warns.

“I swear, m’done. Just beat.”

“Maybe the fennel oil helped?” she hopes and maybe she’s got a point, this was easier than some.

“Maybe it did.” he’ll give her that and smiles against the curve of her belly.

“Why aren’t you usin’ coffee in the enemas instead?” she inquires much to his bewilderment, “It’s good for your liver and less abrasive on the gut. Saline just shreds you.”

“Really?” he grunts, this cute girl knows a thing or two after all, “Never heard that.”

“We’ll have to see if they help, get you a bucket and tub too, they’re easier to manage.” she decides and he wants to protest that she doesn’t get a say in such things but the fact she’s talking about a future where she’s here and meddling with enemas makes him a little woozy with hope. Gigi makes a mental note of calling up a friend who’s majoring in nursing and asking for any and all books and tips that could help in a situation like this. “Let’s get you washed and put to bed.” she encourages him, scratching at the base of his head and feeling the steam roll off of him, inflammation and exhaustion pouring out from his skin, “no way you’re up for shooting pool with Jerry.”

“Oh that was just to get him to keep an eye on you.” Elvis laughs as she helps him stand, never once planning on playing pool tonight of all nights.

Gigi rolls her eyes at him and pouts at his deviousness, Elvis is just glad she’s focusing on that and not the surrounding accouterments any longer, “It really hurt me you didn’t want me with you.” she informs him with grave maturity that somehow makes a mockery of her nineteen years, she looks more fragile than ever, even in this attempt at communicating her needs.

“And I don’t want ya seeing me do this.” He replies as gently as he can as the shower roars next to them and fills the room with billows of steam, “Like I said, some things are between a man and his toile-“

“-and his toilet, yeah. But I’m me!” she explains with a wide smile and he’s really got no clear, available arguments against such impregnable, optimistic, self-exalting while at the same time being utterly selfless -logic.

It’s like arguing with a very pretty lunatic, one with ripe tits still shiny from her shower and crooked little front teeth behind full lips and eyes that could convince him of anything at all -and Elvis wonders if this is how folks feel with him. Is he this infuriating? Do they get a thrill of confusion and reward in doing what he asks? Is it some sorta weird ass loop over and over that has them denying then agreeing right after, again and again?

“Let’s get you in the shower daddy.” Gigi is saying with a roll of her eyes at *his* silliness and Elvis watches in a sort of disembodied trance as she undoes the thick tie holding his robe closed.

This is another thing he was gonna take slow. Getting naked, touching and being touched no faster or intensely than what he directed and allowed. And…well, there it goes, his robe and his resolve opened up and pushed off his shoulders as slow as a strip tease while this perfect young thing has her watching face transformed from caring into something so hungry and admiring he actually feels his pulse quicken.

That’s more like it, the natural order of things is somewhat restored when the caregiver shifts from viewing him with solicitude to viewing him with the divine and fathomless want that is feminine arousal.

But still.

Sweet Jesus, it’s been forever since someone reacted to his body that way. The face sure, the man -yes, and the legendary presence is a given. But that’s all outliers of him, of poor little ole Elvis alone in his own room, in his own house, without the trappings. Nobody in a long while has taken the trappings off and moaned like a paid whore at the sight of something so utterly human and a little faulty as his body now is. A body Elvis has fought and lost against for well over a decade now.

The robe puddles around his feet and he expects it’s time to get in the shower if Gigi would pull her eyes up from his protruding gut. She’s already seen it once today when she unzipped his jacket. After an overly long review where he can actually see her crane her head down to try to see his pecker -jokes on her, the gut hides it- and up his treasure trail to his chest and his neck and his chin and his lips-

-Gigi throws her arms around his shoulders and kisses him. The sight of him naked and hairy, manly and huge, with a hanging belly too much for her to hold her desires back any longer.

Elvis is as warm as she remembers and with his body unimpeded by a tracksuit or a robe she can now fully press her body against his, standing toe to toe with their heights not too dissimilar, making it wonderful and easy to kiss him as she presses herself to every inch of his tacky skin, so much muscle and discipline polished beneath the soft and hairy bulk. It makes her feel small, just how wide and broad and large he is in comparison to her, tall and lanky as she is, she’s never been little before, but with this bear of a man she could curl into his barrel chest and pull the hairy curtains closed and be tucked away from it all. Like a fairytale princess in her favorite oak.

“I want you to crush me.” she moans in his ear as she curves her body to align with the pouch of his belly, her ass stuck out for optimal contact and Elvis groans in response, seeing the pair they make in the fogging mirror.

Something in him responds to the rightness of the image presented, fogged by the steam and softened where they’re two pink cherubs caught in an embrace, her soft breast resting on the dome of his furred chest.

Both complimentary but untraditional in their combination, - a sorta Gainsbourg and Birkin vibe where everyone’s left wondering how exactly the gargoyle got the maiden -or the thickening rockstar got this sweet piece of ass- but nobody doubts the sex is blazing hot.

It’s sexy as hell and the temperate side of himself that health and Ginger had been striving to coax into the fore, plummets into a lava filled grave at the primal, loin swelling satisfaction of Gigi and her nakedness pressed to him, writhing against him, reveling in him and trusting in his masculine abilities to satisfy her.

He grips an ass cheek in his hand, spanning from hip to crack, and crushes it to him meanly, pinching her soft skin with hsi rings, his other arm flung about her ribs and pressing her nearer there, too. Gigi lets out the happiest cry of completion at him granting her request. It’s breathless and short from the lack of air left in her lungs.

“This how ya like it?” Gigi hears him rumble darkly in her ear and she feels herself dribble at his voice alone, finding the feeling of all his strength and power pressed to her more overwhelming that any self-brought pleasure.

She can only nod her head frantically in agreement, his grip too hard and tight for anything else, she feels like she’s floating and somehow that’s more grounding for her than anything else she’s ever felt in her life. He must feel her shudder as he responds with one of his own and readjusts his grip on her butt, fingertips grazing the underside of her cheek and teasing the folds that lead to where she’s a wet mess for him.

He teases there for a moment, tiny, ticklish little swipes to the back of her waxed pussy lips and then he curls his fingers again and grips harder than even before, into her plush ass and he lifts her up to her tiptoes by the hold, making them level before slotting his mouth against hers, the closest thing to sloppy in his kisses that she’s yet experienced from him.

It delights her. This gritty, unmeasured side of him that doesn’t take things in measured and calculated amounts. She wants to be mauled and squeezed and have the crescent indentions of his fingernails on her ass. She wants to be irresistible to him, she wants him to appraise and enjoy her like she’s both precious and objectively the only thing he wants to squeeze and fuck for the rest of his life. She’s ready for that life. Gigi mauls him back, careful to be gentle with her pressure but she kneads his soft sides and the thick cording of his neck, so full of strength but also inflammation -and she suddenly recalls the shower.

Having broken their kiss, they both glance over at the pattering water. And it’s better this way, neither having to break up the moment, they both just seem to agree and proceed to amble over in a waddling embrace and step into the lavish shower.

Gigi has already washed but she won’t be the one reminding Elvis of that as he squirts a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and grumbles about her stupid drugstore lemon shit. That wanting to have him paw at her and be a little sleazy in his touches is gratified by the way he spends too long on her boobs, something that is traditionally a rather clean body part. But his boyish little smile and the single minded lostness on his face he suds up their heavy weight and let’s her large pink nipples slide through his knuckles, his pink tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he gently jiggles the slippery firmness of them, makes Gigi sigh in dreamy delight that she can bring him joy by standing in the shower and letting him wobble her boobs, clapping them together one minute and jostling them the next to make the soap suds slid and back and forth along the runway to her nipples. They might have stayed at that game all night, both quite invested in never letting one little congregation of bubbles slip off the Cherry red cliff onto the shower floor. But Elvis yawned once and just like that they decided it was time to wash him and go to bed. With a sad kiss goodbye to one of her large nipples, Elvis allows for the roles to be reversed.

Of course washing him was strictly utilitarian. What was she on about, lathing his shins and his thighs and squeezing his ass like he was a nineteen year old girl? And what was it about Gigi rubbing his shoulders as she went and then turning him around into the spray to wash it off as she started to work at his front, giggling to herself as she swooshed his chest hair into certain patterns with the slippery soap. She even hefted his own boob flaps up, something he fuckin’ hated even existed right now, and she did it with heavy lidded eyes and bitten lips like she was getting off on this, on swishing suds around his large belly before squatting to get her first peak at lil Elvis.

He was still soft, or mostly so, but what shocked Gigi was how thick he was even in repose. Laying heavily on his thigh, his length was nothing much, decent but not particularly matching of his long limbs, but his thickness was to a degree that she wished she did have the stupid Lemon Up shampoo to compare it to, it wasn’t too far off. She didn't know dicks came in that size, the sorta size that makes babies heads coming out seem like not much of an escalation. Alright maybe not that big but he was large, very thick and cutely stubby and Gigi wondered if maybe it was swollen like the rest of him, if it changed with age or weight, if his pink and vulnerable little head was always peaking out of its tan sheath and if his stones were always so large and heavy, asking for the same treatment as her boobs got.

She cupped them with a dollop of shampoo in her hand and jostled the heavy sack gently and with joy in her heart. Elvis lurched forward to lean his forearm against the shower wall to steady himself.

“Gigi, honey, be brief.” he begged and if he’d have commanded her, then she might’ve popped the heavy balls into her mouth just to show him what she thought about him always denying himself any fun, but Elvis was begging and above her his belly heaved with his labored breathing and much as she wanted to see him swell to life, she cared more about seeing him rested.

Reluctantly she finished with a swipe and rinse to the back of his sack and between his crack which made him jump like a critter ran up it instead of a diligent hand. Gigi liked it when he was boyish and shy like that. It makes her press a kiss to his floppy little dick, so heavy and promising in its shrunken state and he lets out a scandalized groan at the feel of her nibbling at the tip with her lips.

“No, no honey don’t.” he begs and gives her a hand to pull her up, she remains steadfastly on her knees with a hand on little Elvis like he’s a handle of some sort. “Good girls don’t do such things.” He explains gently but with firmness, “There ain’t no need, that’s not somethin’ I need from a sweet thing like you.”

Gigi is far from relieved. In fact, if the shower spray weren’t so universal he’d think her eyes were welling with tears for the zillionth time tonight.

“What?” he barks in absolute confusion.

“But I wanna suck you!” she begs, hoarse and throaty and -she’s definitely back to crying again, sweet Jesus, he’d gotten himself a huge tittied young woman who cried over not being allowed to have his cock in her mouth.“I practiced just for the odd chance I ever met you!” she pleads in a desperate cry.

“What?” Elvis looks down at her perturbed and has to admit, unsettled as he is by this, she sure does look pretty right at cock level.

“I practiced with a nice guy who was cut so I had to pretend.” she explains mournfully and Elvis hauls her bodily up by her elbows against the tile to understand this riddle.

“Thought you said you were a virgin, baby.” he chides in confusion about the aspect of practicing for him.

“I am!” She swears, “But I practiced for you! See, I can-“ and she sticks her fingers back to her tonsils with only a small gag that makes Elvis’ masculine heart twinge in admiration.

But he’s better than this. He’s beyond appreciating her gag control and needs to know about this so called nice guy. “Darlin’ who’s this feller?” Elvis has a knack for recalling names and he’s gonna shoot this sonuvabitch if he can find him.

“He was a sweet trucker,” she explains with dreamy reminiscence, “about your age or older, and he fixed my flat tire when it popped near Jackson last year. He was real sweet and I wanted to thank him. He shared his Sundrop with me and he had one of your albums on the radio in his cab. So we talked about you and I told him how I loved you -this was a year ago- and how I wished I could meet you and show you how I loved you. And he lived in Meridian, see, and he sounded a little like you and he had dark hair and this gorgeous belly and when I sucked him I listened to your voice singing through the radio and pretended it was you.”

She finishes this saga with a simple head nod, like that’s all real tidy and normal. Elvis just gapes and a million feelings rush through him, horror at the fact she’s this gullible and unprotected, followed by burning pride at the idea of having been a preoccupation of her’s for so long. Some of this smacks of psycho stalker fan and he should probably run for the hills but Gigi pretended to blow him a year or so ago with a flabby truck diver and Elvis has a vision of that happening again if he somehow screws this up and she ends up on her own again.

That just can’t happen. He shuts his mouth and coughs, realizing that just can’t happen. “Do you like fat men, Gigi?” he asks soberly.

She looks a little hurt by this before replying with wounded devotion and a wobble of her wet lip, “I only love you.”

Elvis sighs and shakes head in astonishment and presses a kiss to the top of her wet head before turning off the shower stream. She likes it when he rolls his eyes at her but doesn’t push her away, Doesn't say she’s silly, just kisses her into compliance. She likes that.

She likes it even better when he was wet and large in the shower grinning down at her, wrapping her up in towels they had to waddle to the drawers to get in dripping pairs.

“You’re somethin’ else, baby.” he tells her but never says it’s too much. She’s waited all night for him to tell her she’s too much it she’s too clingy or she’s too effusive and he hasn’t said it yet.

Gigi helped him step into his silk pajamas pants, he was strangely meek and appreciative of this sort of help and it made her sigh with relief, letting her guard down as she did up the buttons of his sleep shirt under his smiling gaze. She had to ignore the chill of the room on her bare skin, gooseflesh pricking beneath chilled droplets, but it was worth it for the way his eyes ravished her with searching adoration, every single part of her.

Elvis offered her pajamas of her own, too, matching his own. She declared she never could sleep in clothes and the shocked little O of his mouth made her giggle, then he looked hurt and tried very hard to persuade her to try it for him.

“C’mon baby, everybody needs ‘jamies.” he sweet talks to her, holding open the waist band.

“I can’t sleep in them! It’s got elastic!” she sounded like a child forced to eat collards.

“Gigi, wear some pajamas,” Elvis tried sternness, “do it for your daddy, now.”

She sobered up at that, while remaining dried eyed much to his relief. With a slowness of movement and a grimace of distaste that showed her dislike, Gigi took the pajama top from him and slid it on.

It hung there unbuttoned with her bare cunt out and her belly and tits and legs and everything nearly, except for her covered arms, and then she smiled at him with self sacrificing serenity in her eyes while murmuring, “Only for you, daddy.”

And that’s how they ended in bed with Gigi in nothing but an open silk pajama shirt, sans bottoms, with an embroidered E of her right yam.

“I can’t believe they expect you to tour like this.” she muttered as his sweet expressions turned to grimaces and groans upon stretching out on the mattress. Tired from just entertaining a girl and her friends. The closest to angry he thinks Gigi is capable of as she scrunches her brows in frustration and he finds he has to hide a smile instead of telling this little girl to mind her own. She’s frustrated for his own benefit.

“I got good days and bad days.” he explains, turned on his side and stroking her face where it lay on their shared pillow, the room dark except for a lamp on, showing them in the mirror above. “Today were tougher than some, not ‘cause of you but jus’-“

“You woke up with a migraine.” She recalled and he is touched by that.

“Yeah, and had to take more pills for it.” he agrees, “and I gotta take s’more before I can sleep.” he warns her but Gigi just hums and keeps on kneading the back of his neck in a way that is liable to make him start drooling.

“When do we leave for the tour?” she asks, setting in and slinging her naked leg over his hip comfortably.

His heart skips a beat at her presumption. Then it plays catch up and bounds so hard he feels winded as he gasps, “September.”

“We’ve gotta get you better by then.” she mutters, “And you’ll have to help me with midterms, it’ll be crazy trying to pass long distance.” To herself Gigi ponders on whether she might have to push back school in order to be with her Daddy, the thought troubles her none because she’d fail it a million times in order to get more time with him. As long as he’ll have her and even then she knows she’d never be able to leave him as compliantly as Ginger had.

Elvis contemplates the fact she’s willing to risk college for him, that she depends on him for midterms and his belly tightens at the thought in anxious hope.

He turns on his other side, hoping for some relief from the belly ache. Without fail she follows and curls around him,seeking to understand he can’t take the heavy pressure of laying on it, and she is jetpacking on his back like a clingy koala, legs and arms woven around him until he’s half laying back on her.

“Baby Girl, I’m gonna smother ya.” he resists a little laugh as she has him in something close to a wrestling pose, legs wrapped around his hips from the back and arms over his belly, his back smashing her boobs.

She lets out a happy moan instead, “I want you to.” Gigi insists and sounds close to climax at the feel of his weight on top of her. She keeps her hold on him tight, content with feeling enveloped by him as droplets of water drip from his hair onto her chest.

Pretty lil weirdo.

“S’like a elephant layin’ on a junebug, we can’t sleep this way.” Elvis finds himself grinning at the comical image reflected in the mirrors above.

“But it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” she begs, “I’ve dreamed about this. Take your pills daddy’s and we’ll go to sleep now.”

Compliant in his bewilderment, Elvis props up and measures out his doses in his palm, swallowing them down dry before lying back, trying to aim for the mattress but Gigi wriggles beneath his bulk again and he prays he doesn’t get another lawsuit on his hands come morning for smothering the life out of a teen girl.

“Do you want a burger?” she asks softly in his ear, right as he starts to relax in her protective hold. He’s got his arms criss crossed across his body to hold her own as they hug him.

“Uh, umm, no -I-I-I’m -I’m sleepy.” he drawls, torn at the lovely idea of a burger after such a long evening but then again, his head is pillowed on boobs and Gigi’s fingers are swirling shapes in the hair on his belly under his shirt. He doesn’t really feel like ever leaving. She makes a better mattress than any amount of money could ever buy.

“Ok, honest?” she whispers in his ear and he smiles into his pillow at her childish earnestness.

He presents a wobbly pinky for her to witness his solemn oath and she happily hooks her littler one with his and they curl round each other, it feels like a promise of more than just midnight burgers. A promise of him helping with midterms and her never having another man in her life.

To his surprise, just as he starts to drift off, Elvis feels Gigi’s hand slither beneath the waistband of his silk pajamas. He thought she’d gotten the message he’s not up for it, the preliminary little snores from the sedatives underscoring his point, but all she does is cup his soft package in her palm, like it’s the most precious wobby in the world for her, and promptly starts snoring little snores herself.

Elvis tries to savor the feeling of her holding him through the night and as he slumbers, her voice manages to break through the fog of dreams talking about midterms to come, about his tour in September — with his surety in their future aided by the promise of their still clinging pinkies, sleep comes easier than it has in years.

I hope y’all enjoyed, thank you for reading and thank you for all the prompts that got us here! We are working on a prompt list because after his chapter we open it up to jumping around with prompts. But don’t feel like you’ve got to wait till then, go ahead and send in whatever you’d like and I’ll see what I can cook up! 🌷 xoxo

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[marksbear]

Am so glad you are back home and away from the hospital,hope you doing and happy Easter from where am at. But I was thinking about Sub prince steven and dom reader are at a ball. But not everyone knows about their engagement and even if they did they just assume that it's only political and that they can hopefully hook up with one of the princes. But anyways one princess is really interested in steven and keeps flirting with him while his future king is right by his side. He doesn't do anything because he assumes she is just being nice but she leaves for a second and reader takes his chance. He pulls steven away and finds a empty balcony very deep in the castle that no one visits. He push steven against the railing and blocking him in and says what he is doing if he is already to be married soon. Steven didn't know and didn't think reader would be that serious about their marriage even though they are in love. Which leads to reader saying if he wants that princess to have him in his ear and makes himself angry because only he can have steven. Which leads to reader marking steven on the railing and turning him around to fuck him on the railing to show that steven belongs to him only.-50%🐻‍❄️

I’m sorry for not posting for a week! It’s been a lot going on and I’m sorry! Like two or three more for the schedule!

Warnings! SMUT, semi public, angry sex, fingering, teasing, breeding implied, jealous reader, ROYAL AU, rail sex/balcony, flirting

SUB PRINCE STEVEN GRANT X DOM PRINCE READER

It was spectacularly rare to see different kingdoms and its royal family to be inside the yearly annual ball.Every year it seems that three or six kingdoms miss the ball.

But this year it seems that almost every kingdom made it.

What really surprised most people was that the sun kingdom made it. Almost every year something would be going on in the kingdom. For example deaths, festivals, wars.

But this year somehow they made it. Even though their many rivals and enemies were inside.

Everybody turned their heads to the large doors looking with confusion and wonder in their eyes as they watched the King of the sun kingdom step inside the ball.

"I thought they were busy at war with the rain kingdom?" A random guest says to himself not realizing that the three princes of the moon kingdom were right next to him.

"I totally forgot that war is going on... It's only soon enough that the rain kingdom would call upon us to join in the fight." Marc comments looking at his brothers.

The youngest one didn't pay attention to any words as his eyes looked at the entrance searching for a certain someone. Steven's eyes brighten and filled with joy in the instant as he watches his fiancé walking inside the ball looking around.

"They always seem to make a dramatic entrance." Jake comments rolling his eyes at his younger brother's reaction.

Before Steven could respond Marc cut him off. "Stevey. Theres a group of princesses wanting to speak with you over there." Marc says pointing to the group of girls.

Steven pulls his eyes off of his fiancé turning his head to the group of girls.

"I think they want to be your friend." Jake teases already knowing what the girls want from his little brother.

"I'll go over to them once i'm done talking with Y/n!" Steven tells them before walking his way to his fiancé with a smile already on his face. A princess was talking with Y/n.

"You are so hilarious my lord.~" The princess says batting her eyelashes as she giggles. Y/n smirked and nodded. "Thank you. Many people don't use those words to describe me." "Really? Such a shame... I bet that everyone calls you handsome huh?" The princess responds back flirting shamelessly.

"I appreciate your words princess, but as I can't not flirt back seemingly because I am soon to be wedded." Y/n says shooting down her advances.

Steven waits by the side of Y/n waiting for him to be done with his conversation.

"Your getting married? I didn't hear about you proposing to anyone let alone dating someone." The princess stammers out with embarrassest rising.

"I'm becoming a king soon. I needed to find someone. It would be a shame to rule without a partner. I'm thankful enough that the gods found me someone to love even though the meeting was strange." Y/n answers before looking for anything to pull him out of this awkward conversation.

"Prince Grant? I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Sorry my lady, but I have to leave." Y/n says giving the princess a quick peck on the cheek before turning away walking up to Steven taking his arm leaving.

"What was that about?" Steven questions with a puzzled expression. "Nothing... Just two heirs of respected kingdoms talking." Y/n answers leaving the flirting out.

"Drink?" Y/n questions as Steven nods his head yes in response. Y/n leads him and Steven to a table full of drinks in fancy glass cups.

TIMESKIP

Finally after both princes could finally be alone together without princes and princesses trying to hook up with them.

The two were finally alone in a quiet spot in the ball. Not many people coming around over there only the occasional secret lovers coming here to kiss and talk.

The two princes were in silence watching people dance in the middle of the ball and eyes wondering around different areas in the ball.

"I've missed you." Y/n finally breaking the painful silence.

"I missed you as well." Steven breathes out looking to the side at Y/n staring at him.

"We have barely seen each other it hurts me so." Steven adds with Y/n making a teasing whimper.

"I know. It's just that it's dangerous for you to visit me while my kingdom is at war." Y/n says with a sigh escaping his lips. "Or is it an excuse for you not to be with me?" Steven questions with his own eyes widening from surprise.

Steven definitely didn't mean his thought to slip out.

"What?! No that is such nonsense. I would never stay away from you on purpose." Y/n bites back quickly whipping his head around looking at Steven.

"i know... I'm sorry, it's just that I miss you and i'm worried for you." Steven says as Y/n steps in front of him closer.

"I miss you too. Its just that i'm fighting a war right now Steven and I don't want my enemies to know that I have a lover that they can kidnap and hurt." Y/n says reaching his hand out to touch Steven, but pulls it away in fear that someone is watching.

"After the ball lets meet at our forest. So we can properly talk about this without watchful eyes.

Steven nods his head in agreement before walking away.

"Steven! Steven where are you going?!" Y/n questions in a quiet shout as he quickly follows behind Steven.

Y/n's mind began to wonder and think did he say anything to make his partner upset.

Pushing through crowds and such Y/n followed Steven. If anyone was watching them it would look like Y/n was a dog following its owner. "Steven please wait!" Y/n calls out pushing people out of his way.

Steven's mind was thinking millions of things at once as he walked away looking for somewhere he could think.

Suddenly a force on Steven's side crashes into him. Steven's body immediately reacted holding onto the figure who crashed into him making sure they were still on their feet.

"Ah! I'm so sorry Prince Grant!" The princess apologizes with a trusting smile. Steven looked at the princess and smiled at her brightly before responding. "No! I should be sorry I wasn't looking." The princess smiles fondly at Steven.

Finally Y/n catches up to Steven standing behind him and the princess, but not to close just close enough to hear their conversation.

"I didn't know that you Moon boys were actually polite and well mannered. I guess the rumors are true about the three of you."

"What rumors?" Steven questions.

"That woman would be lucky to be in one of the three Moon princes presence. Such a fine gentleman you are Steven." She answers with a smile.

"Oh uhm thank you..." Steven thanks with a light blush on his cheeks.

The woman opens her mouth to speak up again, but Y/n takes Steven by the arm taking him away from the woman. Y/n drags Steven inside the middle of the ball far way enough from the princess.

"Y/n?" Steven questions confused as to why Y/n was acting like this.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to I just acted out. And i'm sorry from earlier. You know that I love you and I never want to be apart from you, I just want to protect you." Y/n says with one breath.

"It's okay! I love you too! I wasn't mad. I-I just wanted to think of a way we can do this together." Steven smiles.

Y/n looked around carefully making sure theres no one he should worry about before doing what he's about to do next.

Y/n leans in about to give Steven a quick sneak kiss before the same princess from earlier somehow finds them.

"There you went Steven! Someone has just snatched you and left." The princess giggles not noticing the icy glare the prince of the sun kingdom is giving him.

Once Y/n heard that voice a frown crawled onto his lips.

Steven turns around facing her with a smile.

"You look so lovely. I mean you always do, but this time you're just glowing my highness." The princess subtly flirts with a friendly smile.

"Uh thank you! I think you look brilliant!" Steven compliments back not noticing the flirty giggle the princess lets out.

As the two talk Y/n stands by Steven's side with anger flowing through his body more and more every time the princess flirts with Steven not even thinking twice about what she says.

The princess began to check out Steven biting her lip seductively while sometimes messing with her dress pulling it down or making it tighter to make her breast stand out.

"I really do enjoy talking with you Steven~ Maybe I should ask my dad to arrange a meeting for us. So we can get to know each other more on a personal level." She says messing with the ends of her hair.

"How about we continue this conversation over some drinks? Don't worry i'll get them." She says leaving to find the drinks.

Steven looks over at Y/n not noticing the pissed off expression that Y/n had.

"Shes pretty nice don't you think?" Steven questions before letting out a surprise yelp as Y/n grabs and yanks Steven arm pulling him out of the massive ball room.

Steven looked around to see where they are going, but Y/n didn't stop pulling Steven around for a second.

Y/n dragged Steven deeper inside the kingdom until he founded an abandoned balcony lightly yanking Steven in front of him he backed him up to the rail pinning him there.

Steven looked up meeting Y/n’s eyes that were filled with anger and jealousy a look that was rare to see.

“What are you doing if you are getting married soon” Y/n says voice laced with jealousy.

“What? W-what do you mean?” Steven stutters out as he uses his free hand to hold on the rail.

“What do I mean? Steven those princess are obviously trying to be with you.” Y/n says as he moves closer to Steven making the smaller man squirm and look away. Y/n reaches his hands out taking Steven by his hips holding him down to the rail.

Y/n moved closer to Steven moving his head to the side of Steven’s. “Do you want her to have you?” Y/n whispered into Steven’s ear as he moved into him. Steven could tell Y/n was getting more angrier.

“N-no I only want you.” Steven answers with whimpers escapes his lips as Y/n grinds into him.

“That’s right only me. No one else can have you.” Y/n whispers with a smirk on his face as he plays with the band of Steven’s pants tugging and pulling on it lightly. Steven’s cock begins to grow hard from the feeling of Y/n grinding on him and also the way Y/n is acting so obsessive.

Y/n faces Steven one last time before kissing him deeply and passionately. Steven quickly kissed back letting Y/n take control. Y/n’s hands finally stops teasing Steven and finally pulls down Steven pants down to his knees.

Taking a hold of his arms Y/n spins Steven around so he’s facing whatever that is outside.

Y/n kisses and sucks what’s exposed of Steven’s neck leaving hickeys and markings. Steven let’s out breathy moans and whimpers as Y/n nibble onto his skin.

With Y/n’s other free hand he plays with Steven’s ass squeezing and gently slapping it. Soon after Y/n spreads Steven’s legs open before bending him over the rail. Y/n hands traveled to Steven’s hole circling his fingers around the entrance teasing him slowly.

Steven let’s out a whine as he grips onto the rail for balance.

“Please Y/n!~ S-stop being such a tease! I beg you!” Steven says as his cock begins to ache and twitch.

The other prince just lets out a mocking laugh, but doesn’t ignore his lover wish.

Slowly Y/n moves a finger inside using his other hand to hold Steven on his back keeping him bent over.

Y/n thrusted his finger in and out picking up the pace slowly. Steven moved his waist down on Y/n’s finger grinding onto it. Without removing the finger that’s inside Y/n adds another and begins to properly finger him.

The sun prince curled and spread his fingers inside The moon prince causing him to moan. Steven’s legs began to tremble and grow weak.

Y/n moved his fingers even faster inside him making Steven to get even louder. Steven’s cock began to leak precum as Y/n fingered fuck him.

Y/n’s fingers grazed the moon princes prostate with every thrust causing him to moan loudly and uncontrollably.

Steven held onto the rail for dear life as his legs began to grow weak and the rest of his body trembling. Steven’s cock twitched as he felt the knot in his stomach begin to grow.

Suddenly Y/n pulls his fingers out once he decided that he had enough prep.

Y/n pulled his own pants down letting his hard cock spring out. Y/n moved his cock onto Steven’s ass grinding and teasing him.

Y/n’s cock grinds against Steven’s hole sliding his cock up and down.

“My king… Please put it inside please! I need y-your cock inside me so bad!” Steven begs out feeling the tip of Y/n’s cock brush past his hole.

“I don’t want anyone else besides you! Please I didn’t know those girls were flirting with me I swear! I-I thought they were just being nice that’s all!” Steven adds with a small ramble.

“You didn’t know that they wanted to court you?” Y/n questions as he lines up his cock to Steven’s hole.

“No I swear! I thought they were just being nice.” Steven blurts out. Y/n only hums in response before slowing moving inside him. As Y/n went inside, Steven began to gasp and let out breathy moans.

Once the tip was inside fully Y/n moved his hips back and forth only fucking Steven with the tip so far. As Steven got used to it He begged and moaned for more. Y/n starts to thrust deeper inside Steven causing Steven to get louder.

With one fast thrust Y/n thrusted his cock fully inside Steven’s hole. Steven’s walls tightened around Y/n’s cock as he moved inside him. Y/n moved his hands to both sides of Steven’s hips holding him in a tight grip. Y/n held Steven still as he roughly thrusted inside of him.

Steven hands trembling as he tried to cover his mouth from all the loud noises he was making, but Y/n had other plans.

“Move your hands. I want everybody to hear you. I want everyone to know that your fiancé is fucking you and not them. I want them to become angry and jealous just like they made me feel.” Y/n asks or really more like a command.

Steven let’s out a muffled whine, but does as he folds moving his hands away.

Y/n picked up speed of his thrust going even faster than he was before. Y/n’s cock was buried deep inside with every thrust grazing Steven’s prostate. Hitting his prostate over and over Y/n abused his hole.

With a few more thrust from Y/n Steven came hard as moans fall from his mouth. As Steven was still cumming Y/n didn’t stop moving inside him. Tears fell from Steven’s face as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

Y/n’s cock started to twitch inside Steven as he roughly thrusted in and out of him. His thrust became sloppy as his hands lessened the grip of Steven. Steven moaned endlessly as Y/n continued to fuck him.

“Steven I’m about to cum!” Y/n warns. Y/n slowed down as he drove his cock in deep. Steven begged for him to cum inside eagerly.

With a few more deep thrust Y/n came deep inside Steven. Steven’s walls tightened around Y/n as his cock cummed inside him. His walls was painted white as some cum leaked out of his hole.

The two stayed like that for a while catching their breath and energy.

Y/n leaned over to kiss the side of Steven’s face as he slowly pulled out. Once he was fully out he turned Steven around and picked him up slightly putting him on the rail.

Steven and Y/n locked eyes for a moment smiling at one another. Y/n stood in between Steven’s legs biting his exposed neck.

“People would see—“

“So let them see. I want everyone to know that someone already courted you…” Y/n cuts Steven off as he marked his neck.

“What if people talk? And it get news to your father? He’ll think I’m sleeping with someone else.” Steven worries as he wrapped his arms around Y/n.

“If they dare to talk they’ll have to answer to me and my soldiers. And if my father catches wind then I’ll defend you with my heart. And if he’s fool enough to disrespect you I will start havoc.” Y/n answers pulling away from his neck to kiss Steven.

“I love you, so I plan on marrying you and rule over kingdoms with you. Then having you to bare my children.” Y/n mumbles the last causing Steven to laugh and kiss him.

“Your such a fool!” Steven says giggling on Y/n’s lips.

The sun prince fixed his clothes as well as Steven’s before picking him up from the rail wrapping his arms around him. The two kissed one last time before leaving the balcony.

“We must hurry before they get suspicious looking for the two of us!”

THE END

[marinas-drafts]

but then…Gigi

Part 5

Warnings: the usual for this universe with crass language and descriptions of bodies (flattering and negative) with use of the words fat, etc. some heavy petting and kissing and talk of blow jobs, age gap, mentions of drugs, mentions of and an actual enema described in the most respectful and vague way that I could manage? strictly caretaking in tone and help regarding serious health concerns

Rating18+: Mature for some sexual language, some sexual scenes, subject matter, dark thought processes and health specifics

Word Count: 10k 🤭

Special Thanks: to baby girls @stylespresleyhearted & @eliseinmemphis who’ve breathed this universe into being and for my friends who gave their input and assurances for this chapter. And to all of y’all who said to go full real and raw in this one, incorporate the hard and ugly parts with the soft and lovely -just like life. Thank you, this urging has helped me go ahead and write something I’m very proud of and hope touches y’all, too.

Graceland at night will always remind Gigi of the first time coming, seeing the house all lit up at the end of the drive's curve, window lights twinkling at her and the promise of his presence inside filling her with butterflies.

Tonight Elvis’ hand is heavy on her ankle and its little chain instead, as it lays in his lap as he drives them up and around back himself, the garage opening like witchcraft without Gigi noticing a single employee besides Sam down at the gate. What a change a week makes.

It’s his home, she thinks fondly at the sight of the back kitchen door. Seems ages since this afternoon when he sent her out here to wait in the garage as he took care of business. They must both be thinking the same thing as they loiter in the Stutz for a little while after he turns the engine off, as if scared some remnants of ghoulish Alden’s might remain inside.

She slips her hand into his big paw at last and he seems to startle out of a reverie in order to give her a tight smile. His sweaty skin glitters from the garage light and it’s muted and pretty as a painting. “Thanks for bringing me home, daddy.” she whispers and if a kid ever got the chance to be brought to the North Pole by Santa, Elvis ain’t sure they’d be more grateful than this shimmery eyed girl child in his seat.

Who the fuck didn’t want this sweet little thing? Who made her so desperate she’s coming home with a washed up old man who’s notorious for having a revolving bed? Elvis chuckles mirthlessly at the thought that even he is so beat that right now he is more preoccupied with how to distract her so he can slip away and do a damn enema.

Life is rarely fair, but it definitely ain’t fair to poor Gigi. The least he can do is tell her,

“Stay put, baby girl.” as he gets out on his side and limps over to the passenger door and opens it for her like his mama taught him, hoping he doesn’t look as stiff as he feels.

He must fail at that. No sooner does she duck her head and emerge from the car, one long leg at a time, than she’s by his side with an arm looped around his waist as if she could support him were he to tumble, kicking the passenger door closed with her still shoeless foot.

Nasty habit that, going around barefoot, he’s gonna have to break her of it, this lack of shoes, and she’s gonna have to shower before getting into bed, no way he’s gonna have grimy sooties in his sheets.

Gigi pulls Elvis’ arm over her shoulder like they’re two marines headed up a beachhead and he’s had his leg blown off, her smile is the only thing keeping him from shoving her off to prove just how fine he is. God. Why?

“What’re you doin’?” he asks instead keeping his feet firmly planted, blinking owlishly at her and she gives in to the temptation to swipe the mop of hair off his forehead. She thinks he looks so distinguished with it swept back, each of his striking features lifted by the volume. She spies some gray roots in the glow of the back door light and it makes her smile, she wonders if she can talk him into styling it the old way again, or a version of it. The way it naturally fell when he was licking her.

“I’m helping ya.” she replies with confused cheeriness.

“I don’t need it.” he insists while squeezing her waist in an attempt to make the blow land softer.

She gives him the closest thing to a suspicious look that he’s ever seen out of this guileless creature. “C’mon in honey.” he changes tactics and taps her butt, getting her to move up the few stairs to the kitchen and willing himself not to wince as he bends his knee.

Gigi is watching him like a hawk and it makes him feel very decrepit and he can just hear the ribbing from the guys about coming back hobbling after taking out a young lady a few years too vigorous for him.

That thought makes him pull his arm off her shoulder and he goes back to squeezing her waist. Which now that he thinks of it, she’s very skimpily dressed still. Just the panties and his jacket. Elvis hopes most of them have gone to bed inside or are out.

The house is far more homey when there’s less people in it, Gigi thinks, as they cross the threshold and no booming bass hits their ears or the tinkling den of party guests. Just the gentle clatter of cutlery and quiet hum of low conversation which ends up being Mary at the sink and Lamar still sat where Gigi got the keys from him at the kitchen counter, eating his burger in between sharing it with Dinah. Dinah who’s making chewing ground beef and onions an art form of seduction. It’s a little off putting if Gigi is being honest which she tries to be but Elvis makes an outright noise of disgust at being met with this in his own home.

“Fuck’s sake Lamar,” he grunts and his friend drops his bun in surprise at the sudden apparition of the two runaways, “don’t ya need to polish a windshield or somethin?”

“I’ll help polish your hubcap, baby.” Dinah purrs into Lamar’s ear and Gigi’s eyes bug about as much as the driver’s.

“Out, both of ya.” Elvis snaps his finger towards the door and Lamar lumbers by with a murmured

“Sorry EP- just sorta happened…”

as he goes with Dinah skipping past them with a wink and a tipsy gait that suggests smoking too much grass in one day.

“Jesus.” Elvis mutters, wondering what the hell is up with this group of friends and holds Gigi tighter lest she pick up on bad behavior as they venture into the den and past it to the living room, seeking out humankind.

There are no Alden’s to be found but unfortunately there is a scene unfolding on the couch of two frizzy blondes clawing at each other while unhinging their jaws like mating hippos, the better to lick each other’s tonsils. Dodger sits to the side in her usual spot in the rocker with her pipe, heedlessly crushing her crossword opposition.

“Tammy!” Gigi gasps in glee at her friend’s scandalous public behavior and the way her red acrylics have torn poor Jerry’s shirts to literal shreds, biceps and fuzzy golden pecs on almost-full display. Not that he seems to mind with the way his hips keep pumping up and his hands are wedged in the back pockets of her cutoffs.

“Jerrah,” Elvis thunders after her exclamation and only then does the hippo-love-fest- cease and Dodger raise her head in order to look Gigi up and down from the anklet on her footsie to the crown of her pretty blonde head, “the hell you doin’?” Elvis demands of his friend, “Comin’ into my home, fuckin’ up the place with b-b-barbecue sauce and ruinin’ d-dinner while y-y-yer at it a-and now neckin’ on m’couch? It’s new, man, got it last month!”

His irate voice turns into a whine at the end and Gigi rubs her hand against his chest in soothing commiseration. “Yeah Tammy, it’s new.” she echoes him.

“Who’s this?” Dodger asks, blatantly ignoring Elvis’ plight.

“I-its Gigi, grandma, ya met her earlier?” he prompts with a confused scrunch of his eyebrows that Gigi finds as cute as a little boy and she gives the unimpressed dame a little wave.

“So many girls in here I can’t keep straight.” she huffs around her pipe.

“Speaking of, uh, how’d it go? Ya know with-“ with Ginger, Elvis means, as he runs his hand down from Gigi’s waist to grab her hand and hold it.

“Oh uh,” Jerry rights himself on the couch and clasps his hands like he has some shred of professionalism left to him in that ribboned shirt, “it’s been handled. Wasn’t pretty but -well, the termination was pretty obvious. Ya gotta be a little more than delusional to push it when your ‘fiancé’ has left to go … out to eat.”

Gigi bites her lip to stall her giggle at his phrasing and burrows closer to Elvis while looking up to see his reaction, follow his lead. The man couldn’t look less sympathetic for her Predecessor and some guilty little cloud that has been hanging over Gigi all evening dissipates under the bright light of his justification.

“Good,” he murmurs lowly, “didn’t want it all fussy, jus’ wasn’t meant to be. Was wrong about it all.” and that seems like a very gentle and kind concession for him to make, just as he doesn’t seem to regret the fact it is very much over.

“Well, uh, now that’s been handled…” Jerry trails off in the manner of those waiting for recognition of a job well done. He doesn’t get it. And so he continues after a beat, “Now that’s done I’ll just be uh, on m’way-“

“-No!” Elvis protests urgently and suprises evryone with his vehemence. “I-I mean don’t go, I need ya man. I-I mean, ya just got here, ya know? A-a-and where’s everybody else gotten to?”

There it is, Jerry thinks with a sigh, he’s needed since the house is empty, it’s got nothing to do with being missed. “Well, Hodge and Ricky spent most the afternoon clearing Ginger’s stuff out at her request and tidyin’ up the master for when ya get back. They’re takin’ the last of her shit over now.”

“Oh.” Elvis accepts this with a thoughtful nod, “Thas good.” he declares softly. “Well, don’t go man, not yet. Not till they get back. You just stopped by and I ain’t seen ya and we can play pool?” Elvis tempts him.

Jerry tries to ignore the way Tammy’s hand has crept into the back of his jeans and is wiggling a finger at his crack. “Uh, ok, yeah I mean- ain’t you tired, Boss?”

“Oh jus’ need a lil refresher, then I’ll be back down, right as rain. I’ll smoke ya.” Elvis replies easily and Jerry picks up on the reason for his insistence like a well trained hound.

A refresher. Be right back down.

Jerry glances over at the cute little stage five clinger holding onto Elvis like he’s a teddy bear she won in a striptease carnival and he gets the memo loud and clear.

“A-a-and it ain’t gentlemanly, you leavin’ Tammy after such a display, a girl’s owed more than that.” Elvis gets desperate enough to pull that one out and Jerry hides his laugh with a dry cough.

“Yeah, yeah I wouldn’t wanna miss seein’ you.” Jerry agrees, “Came just to see how ya were.” he admits the truth of it. “I’ll be down here when you’ve freshened up.”

“Alright.” Elvis nods.

“What’d you two get up to anyway?” Jerry starts a conversation and looks to Gigi for an answer, she doesn’t seem inclined to answer, favoring petting Elvis’ chest instead, but when he doesn’t say anything she picks up the social cue and replies for them both since he seems tired,

“We went back to my place.” she admits breezily, “The only place we could think to hide out. I’m not dressed for anything much.” and she pouts in a way that suggests she thinks she is but an executive decision was made to hide her.

“Ya went to the apartment?” Tammy is grinning wildly and she scoots closer to Jerry, patting at the seat next to her for a juicy retelling. Elvis shuffles the Siamese twins that he and Gigi have become over to the couch and gently disentangles her to sit next to her friend, exchanging a vehement look with Schilling.

“Yes we did!” Gigi is glowing with the memory and his heart aches.

“Who’s this again?” Dodger repeats, too distracted by the sight of a panty clad woman on the red couch to go back to her crossword with full mental capacity.

“This is Gigi, Dodger.” Jerry repeats gently but with more volume as if that’ll sink in better.

“Yes, I’m Gigi.” she’s eager to make a good impression, bless her and her full cotton-crotched display. Elvis starts to creep away in a stealthy little meander from the couch now that Gigi is facing away from the stairs.

“You from Memphis?” Dodger asks sourly, and this plays well into his ploy, Dodger has two moods -not giving a rat’s ass about what happens around her or else being a goddamn one-woman inquisition.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Born?”

“In Memphis, ma’am!”

“Your parents?”

“Mama’s French but Daddy is from Hardiman county.”

“French, hmph.” Dodger picks out the one unacceptable nugget and latches on, “I went to France once…”

Elvis can taste the inquisition coming on and it should buy him a good thirty minutes. Thirty minutes should work if he can just relax and not fuck it up with nervous retention. A ticking clock always makes him clamp up. He bites his lip and reminds himself just how awful it would be for Gigi to learn what his regimen requires. He takes the first step soundlessly, then the second. He’s made it to the third by the time he hears a distant-

“Oh Gigi!-“ from Jerry and the feel of a soft hand on his elbow. She looks so at home on his stairs that Elvis feels like marveling, like she was meant to go up to this sanctum-sanctorum that he trusts so few to see. Not for the first time today he feels as if he’s being looked at with eyes as unconditionally loving -and presumptive- as his Yissa’s.

“Are we going up now?” Gigi asks in a giddy little whisper and Elvis wonders if she really just tore out of the living room and Dodger’s chat in order to be with him. Not even housebroke, this one.

“Gigi, it ain’t polite leavin’ Dodger like that.” he rebukes gently and the glee fades into consternation.

“S-she knows I went to help you!” she whimpers in protest and behind her ear he can see Schilling get up and whisper something to Tammy. It better not be any particulars.

“That’s real sweet darlin’ but I’m gonna be right down,” Elvis soothes, his hand cupping her cheek, “be right down, and family’s very important to me, Baby Girl. I’d like ya to get to know my people.”

It’s a thin excuse with one of those people being her best friend and the other his friend. He imagines it’s not the most appealing thing to sit and be grilled on genealogy by Dodger but Gigi is just gonna have to bear it.

“Can ya do that f’me Gigi?” he prods like it’s a great commission and she’s got watery eyes again and he really cannot believe someone is this sensitive, like God sent her out into life half baked with too thin a skin.

“Yeah, daddy.” she agrees softly, glancing up the stairs to where he’s barred her from going after inviting her up just this afternoon -it makes no sense to her.

He’s never seen a more dejected creature than Gigi as she slinks back to the living room, much to Jerry’s relief and encouragement, and takes her seat beside Tammy with crumpled cheerfulness. Elvis sees her wipe her eyes with the back of her wrists, like a kid, before perking up and turning back to Dodger with faux investment in the conversation.

Elvis climbs the stairs and wonders how he’s gonna manage this night after night. Hell, some mornings he needs it, too. Suddenly the irony hits him of wanting a girlfriend to stay only to now find the reality of that much too oppressively clingy for his pride. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do about it but for now he opens the padded doors to his room and notices with satisfaction the orderly sanitation that Hodge conducted on the place. He leaves his door adjar, no fear of intruders in this house with its well worn habits and spoken and unspoken rules. He calls up Yissa first and foremost, and while she’s in the middle of something she drops her project and they eat up a good bit of his thirty minutes with conversation. Not that he minds or counts. He’d sit on burning coals every night if that’s what had to happen to talk to his little girl. When she has to go he hangs up the receiver and goes about setting up his routine in the bathroom.

Below him, Gigi crosses and recrosses her ankles under Tammy’s smirking scrutiny and tries to listen to Dodger’s questions with due attention even as Tammy whispers filthy questions in her ear about her time with Elvis.

“Haven’t you got any shoes?” This is Dodger’s most recent concern.

“Yes ma’am I do.” Gigi patiently insists.

“Never see you in any shoes.”

“Well I- it was a pool day, you see?”

“If ya got shoes you should wear them.” Dodger moralizes and Gigi can see her point, even if she doesn’t agree.

“Yes ma’am.” she murmurs as her heart wanders upstairs where she’s seemingly not allowed.

“Get my grandson to buy ya some shoes.” Dodger points at her.

Tammy, who’s not even bothering to act like she’s listening to Dodger, starts to crack up in laughter at this berating of the point, she catches Jerry’s eye in her mirth and like lovers often do, they set each other off into a series of giggles that soon lose their context and Gigi is left more alone than ever.

She looks about the place and thinks of a million things she’d like to ask Elvis’ grandma, if he had a normal grandma. One of those cuddley, gingerbread types that the world had led Gigi to believe were ubiqtous. Instead there’s just this aged artifact from another century, smoking her pipe and staring at Gigi like she’s the oddity.

“Is that weed?” Gigi asks hopefully, nodding at the pipe’s smoking bowl.

Upstairs Elvis had slipped into a plush blue robe he uses exclusively for these purposes to keep the chill away, and having ordered his accouterments, had proceeded only a small way into his routine when the damn intercom blared to life and spooked the ever lovin’ crap outta him. He fumbled with his tools and lost his progress, angrily washing his hands so he could buzz back.

“Elvis, come get yer floozy,” Dodger was saying over the loud speaker, “she’s cryin’ in the den.”

Of course she was, he seethed and felt like breaking the glass in his frustration over no one being competent enough to wrangle a single teenage girl from intruding on him for half an hour.

“Gigi, she don’t mean nothin by that!” he could hear Charlie’s voice faintly in the background and the fact that even with reinforcements they couldn’t handle this made Elvis laugh in manic hopelessness.

“Tell her to grow up, Goddamnit, or I’ll send her home.” he roared through the intercom, punching the button with a vicious jab.

It was quiet for a few moments after that. Fed up and miserable with pain, Elvis stepped away from the button and grabbed another enema bulb and poured in the saline, warming it in the sink and slicking up the catheter with a lubricant that used to remind him of happier times -now his mind associates it with this. He released the button before hearing the response - downstairs Gigi’s sobbing whimper and Tammy offering her friend support by calling him an ‘ass.’

Unable to get the angle right he gave up his attempt to do it standing and grabbed his allocated mat for these purposes, fluffing out a black towel over it. This activity was something he did more of the set up for than anything else in his life. In decades. Having his crew carry the cases of supplies around was humiliation enough, he didn’t need anyone around him to get a firm impression of the details, which laying out towels and lubing up tubes inevitably gave. Mystery was important for respect, and there weren’t no mystery here. And little, if any, dignity either.

Elvis got down on the mat with a brutal pop of his left knee. He heard his own whimper and it sounded like a wounded creature, not at all himself. It was cold down here on the tiled floor with just a thin mat between him and the marble but he could lay down at least and reach behind himself and make his tense body relax enough to accept and dispel what it needed.

Getting up and to the toilet from the ground was the hard part. And he’d bite that challenge off when he needed to.

“Daddy?” he heard faintly outside his room, through the barrier of a wall and half closed door, but while his sight suffered and his body failed him, his ears were sharp as ever and for a brief moment his heart leapt at the unexpected joy of his Lisa coming early. Then he heard again, “Daddy?” And that wasn’t Lisa at all, she didn’t call him daddy and she’d never be so tentative upstairs.

Too committed to his procedure and unable to interrupt it, Elvis held his breath like he was playing hide and seek as Gigi repeated his name closer, inside the bedroom, gently but with so much sadness in her tone.

So she’d ventured up here anyway.

He tensed as she drew closer to the bathroom, drawn by the light under the door in the otherwise darkened room. This tenseness was gonna screw up his enema, he was gonna retain at this point.

“Elvis, you in there?” she asked gently on the other side of the wood and he let out a shaky breath at the inability to deny any longer, fearing she’d try the doorknob of he was silent and in his trust of his home’s stable order, he hadn’t bothered to lock it.

Gigi turned everything topsy turvy and he felt like a young kid again, getting overwhelmed when changes came to fast and nothing familiar would remain just so. He felt his breath coming fast and his vision starting to spot. Such silliness for a man in his forty’s.

“Yeah baby girl, I got in the tub for m’head.” He lied, counting on the compassion she had previosuly shown for his ailment to bolster his story. He has no body of water to splash for emphasis so he stayed stock still on his side on the cold floor and waited with baited breath for her to accept this. “And I had’ta call Lisa.”

“Oh good!” she cooed from outside, and he smirked at the confirmation that he still knew how to play ‘em. “You coulda told me, Daddy! I’d be quiet as a church mouse and coulda run the tub for you and washed your hair for you so you didn’t have to strain your shoulders.”

Did she think he needed to wash his hair? He put his hand to his head and felt grease and immediately regretted it as part of that was now lube. “Aww, you sweet thing.” he complimented her kindness vaguely even as he panicked at the thought that his lie would require a wet head. God he was so tired, he came home so he didn’t have to pretend and here he was on his bathroom floor, puttin’ in a Oscar worthy performance with a half quart of saline up the ass.

“You shouldn’t be so silly, Daddy.” she scolded sweetly and he rolled his eyes, thinking ‘if she only knew.’

“Oh?”

“I love to help you.” she insisted and she must’ve had her lips presssed to the door gap, she was so breathy and close, he could picture her smushed face now and he wanted to tear up at the sweetness. “Will you let me wash your hair, Elvis?”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not but he thought he saw the door handle wiggle like a hand had put weight on it. “N-n-no, I-I,” he stuttered out urgently, “I-I-I ain’t comfortable w’that.” he begged, “Not tonight i-I-i’m shy, Gigi. Believe it o-o-or not I-im shy.”

And that at least was a God’s honest truth.

“I know.” she murmured back and sounded like she was smiling herself, “I noticed. I didn’t expect that of you, but I really like it. Makes you cuter somehow.”

And being considered cute was a real heartening thing for a fella to hear, tipped on his side as he was, like a beached whale. Elvis grinned into his hand and let himself savor that. The feeling came again that Gigi really liked him as he was, except for his temper, maybe, and he could hardly fault her for not enjoyin’ it. But she liked him. As he was.

“I’m just gonna sit outside here and be with you.” she declared gently and to his alarm he heard the sound of shuffling like someone sitting down in front of the door, “We don’t haveta talk if you wanna be quiet. I understand, with your head hurtin’. I just couldn’t be away from you any longer. Please don’t make me be away from you, Elvis. It’s all I want, to be with ya.”

Elvis stared unblinking at the caulk line at the bottom of his tub. It was right at eye level down here and the varied thickness of it made him irrationally annoyed, he reached out and picked at a gloop of the dried stuff with his bitten fingernail.

“Ok.” he answered, utterly terrified.

How the hell was he gonna get off the floor, hobble to the John and do his buisness without the sound of any convincing bath effects -and her sitting right outside the door. How the hell. He figured it would be better if she were distracted.

“Tell me ‘bout your French mama.” he requests the first distraction that comes to his mind.

Gigi eagerly takes off on a tangent about her mother who was an artist and rarely in one place, how she had been born in Normandy and credited their breasts to good Norman cow milk, how she painted replica Monet’s on commission and was accordingly sued and how Gigi enjoyed being taken overseas to visit her French relations and go apple picking in the orchards and swimming in the sea -and Elvis listened to the narrative, told in her sweet voice, and allowed himself to be lulled, trying to relax before he made the effort to finish this business.

“-the seashells in Normandy are gigantic, some as big as my palm!” she was telling him as he sneakily turned over and raised himself on his knees, “Of course they wouldn’t be so big in your hands, your hands are so big and beautiful and could hold two of mine but -but they’re big. Does hawaii have big seashells?”

Elvis grunted in effort of holding it in until he could get where he was going and he still had concerns about noise with her right there. “Mm, pretty big.” he grunted out and a thought came to him as he gripped the edge of the tub for leverage to stand, “Water’s gettin’ cold, hold on sec I’m gonna top it off with some hot, won’t be able to hear ya.” he fibbed and reached to turn the handle so it gushed out a roar of water.

Satisfied with his cover, Elvis grabbed again at the tub’s edge and anyhting else that might aid his poor knees in getting off the damn floor. This is what trying to cut back on the pain meds got him, such debilitating pain that he could hardly get off the floor when just a few months ago he was able to kneel down for kisses on stage with only veiled discomfort. Not this agonizing ache and strange weakness in his limbs. He clutched at the tub faucet with it’s handled shape and pushed up.

He was a few pounds too much and after some strain and little progress, the faucet snapped out of its fixture with a deafening clatter that sounded like the ceiling had caved in, reverberating around the tiled room like a thunder clap. He fell back on his kneecaps with a searing thud.

“Lord have mercy!” he heard Gigi exclaim clearly over the roar of the empty tub, and that was because she was right beside him, having burst in with all that loving presumption at the first sound of distress. “Oh daddy, what happened? Ya slip comin’ out?”

She couldn’t get a good read on the situation with it so dim and simultaneously shiny in here, besides the confusing aspects of Elvis being dressed in a robe and dry headed as if having been out of the tub for awhile and him crouched beside it as the absent faucet still roared from its pipe against the empty porcelain. His bathroom was mainly gold, with flecks of black in the tile and accents and it disoriented her, so busy and gaudy she didn’t even notice the mat beneath her feet, assuming the spread out towel was another odd addition that went with the solid gold faucet lying wrenched from its place in the tub.

“Elvis, here, my hand!” she turned the tap off so he could hear her better and tried to get him to look up but his face was turned down with his hair hanging into his eyes. “I’ll help ya up, daddy.” she assured again, and stepped closer, crouching to brace her track hardened thighs for the ordeal of hefting such a sturdy man onto his feet.

On her way to him Gigi stepped on a clear little carton, rather like a baby bottle but far more collapsible. It was empty and squished under her foot, she picked it up curiously. “What’s this?” she asked him innocently.

He looked over at her then, up through a fan of golden lashes so thick and stiff you could hang your hat on them and answered in a dejected growl, “It’s a goddman enema, Gigi.”

She squeezed it once more till the empty thing wheezed and realisation dawned on her face. “Oh, duh.” she laughed and chucked it aside without a second thought before offering her forearm as a handle for him to grip, he rather dazedly let his hand curl around her tan flesh, “If you’re in here doin’ those ya really oughta have somebody nearby to help.” she berated him and once again he thought of Lisa and was beyond glad that it wasn’t his little daughter seeing him like this. No, it was just this big tittied sweetheart who he’d remember fondly through a haze of shame once she leaves him tonight. “Ya should have someone near to help ya get up if you’re in trouble,” she went on, “I know you’re shy. But it’s just me! I’m shy too and I let you see my pussy.”

Like that’s remotely the same as helping a man shit. “Girl,” he rebuts solemnly as he staggers to his feet with her help, feeling the liquid slosh in his gut, “some things are best left between a man and his toilet.”

“Yeah ok,” Gigi conceds, then strikes back right away, “but right now there’s nothing but a lotta distance between you and your toilet. Let me help. C’mon. This is a really pretty robe, by the way. You should always wear blue. And red, I suppose. You look so good in red. Well then there’s black, you’ve always looked good in black,” Gigi babbles and before he knows it he’s sat on the porcelain throne as she tugs the aforementioned blue robe away in the back for him, Gigi herself, lost in a world of the photos she’s cut from the papers of him at his concerts as she continues on “-and I like you in oranges, too. Never thought yellow was the best but I’ll have to see it in person. Pink makes you look kissable-“

“-Gigi,” Elvis whispers in a small voice, “could ya turn around, a’least?”

“Oh! Of course!” she spins around and faces the open bathroom door that she walks over to and shuts, confining them both in here. He means to ask her how she got away and made it all the way up here without interference, he has a buncha pussies for bodyguards. He doesn’t know Gigi was personally escorted upstairs by Dodger who was fed up with the girls tears, who pointed out the master bedroom doors and everything.

“You need to wash your feet, been in the garage and walkin’ in the street’n’shit.” he says for lack of anything better and to minimize the utterly irregerous ordeal of having a woman here for this. Bathrooms just don’t get shared for this shit. They just don’t. But here he is, losing control of one more aspect of his life. All he can focus on right now is letting the thing do it’s job so this ain’t a waste.

“Ok.” Gigi answers obediently and starts shucking her clothes without preamble, stripping down to her naked state in front of him for the second time today and she gives him a bashful grin over her shoulder like she should be the shy one before standing next to him again and turning on the shower tap. The tub and it’s damaged faucet is separate and he’s glad of the patter of rainfall that fills the room and after feeling it for temperature, Gigi soon steps in and begins a faithful lather of her body, starting with her feet.

Elvis watches transfixed as she sudses her little pink toes and the well formed shape of her heel and thumbs at her arches. He wishes to God he was in there doing that. As it is, the little show makes him forget his surroundings and he finally relaxes more than he had been able to all night. Suds are dripping off the curve of her titties like a chocolate fountain splashing off strawberries and he reaches behind him to flush without tearing his eyes from the sight, grateful for the distracting sounds of Gigi humming one of his songs and the fizz of the shower.

Whether the noise alerted her or she’s just intuitive, Gigi glances up as he gathers his robe about him and braces to stand up. “Daddy, I said Let.Me.Help.” she punctuates her sentence with aggravation that bounces off the shower wall like she’s in a stage play. She’s stepping out of the still running shower, all shiny and dripping, before he can protest, and she stands in front of him bare and gentle and he could weep at the sweet expression on her face, so devoid of anything but affection and determination to be of help.

He wonders if this is how mama felt, when she got tipsier than she’d ever have the courage to admit, when he helped her up stairs or into bed and ignored the smell of the alcohol and the slur of speech. The staggering ineptitude of a parent whose child has suddenly had to take over caring for. Mama always used to pat his head in the morning, a silent acknowledgment for his kindness but also his silence, covering her nakedness like Noah’s faithful sons.

He wants to cry. He misses mama so much, misses her assurances and her approbation that she sees him trying to do his bestest. He finds his forehead leaned against Gigi’s slick belly before he means to and finds he’s weeping with her hands in his hair before he can stop it.

“Daddy, sweet daddy, you bear up with so much.” she’s murmuring in broken hearted tones and he hears her sniffling too, and maybe it’s her saying it but it’s his mama talking though her, he’s sure of it. Here in this Gethsemane of his pride and dignity, he weeps at being found out and instead of scorn he gets warm flesh melding into his own and soft messages from his mama.

“Gigi -Jesus! -I-I dunno what to say.” he gasps, ragged and hoarse.

“You don’t? I don’t, more like.” she whispers fiercely, “The whole nation would apologize to ya if they knew how bad it’s gotten. And you never breathin’ a word. Lord daddy, you’re stronger than anyone I ever seen.”

He doesn’t feel very strong, staring at the broken faucet lying in the spatter of shower drops.

“Do ya need to do another?” she asks gently, soothing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I’ll get it ready.” she offers.

“No, m’set.” he mumbles.

“Be honest.” she warns.

“I swear, m’done. Just beat.”

“Maybe the fennel oil helped?” she hopes and maybe she’s got a point, this was easier than some.

“Maybe it did.” he’ll give her that and smiles against the curve of her belly.

“Why aren’t you usin’ coffee in the enemas instead?” she inquires much to his bewilderment, “It’s good for your liver and less abrasive on the gut. Saline just shreds you.”

“Really?” he grunts, this cute girl knows a thing or two after all, “Never heard that.”

“We’ll have to see if they help, get you a bucket and tub too, they’re easier to manage.” she decides and he wants to protest that she doesn’t get a say in such things but the fact she’s talking about a future where she’s here and meddling with enemas makes him a little woozy with hope. Gigi makes a mental note of calling up a friend who’s majoring in nursing and asking for any and all books and tips that could help in a situation like this. “Let’s get you washed and put to bed.” she encourages him, scratching at the base of his head and feeling the steam roll off of him, inflammation and exhaustion pouring out from his skin, “no way you’re up for shooting pool with Jerry.”

“Oh that was just to get him to keep an eye on you.” Elvis laughs as she helps him stand, never once planning on playing pool tonight of all nights.

Gigi rolls her eyes at him and pouts at his deviousness, Elvis is just glad she’s focusing on that and not the surrounding accouterments any longer, “It really hurt me you didn’t want me with you.” she informs him with grave maturity that somehow makes a mockery of her nineteen years, she looks more fragile than ever, even in this attempt at communicating her needs.

“And I don’t want ya seeing me do this.” He replies as gently as he can as the shower roars next to them and fills the room with billows of steam, “Like I said, some things are between a man and his toile-“

“-and his toilet, yeah. But I’m me!” she explains with a wide smile and he’s really got no clear, available arguments against such impregnable, optimistic, self-exalting while at the same time being utterly selfless -logic.

It’s like arguing with a very pretty lunatic, one with ripe tits still shiny from her shower and crooked little front teeth behind full lips and eyes that could convince him of anything at all -and Elvis wonders if this is how folks feel with him. Is he this infuriating? Do they get a thrill of confusion and reward in doing what he asks? Is it some sorta weird ass loop over and over that has them denying then agreeing right after, again and again?

“Let’s get you in the shower daddy.” Gigi is saying with a roll of her eyes at *his* silliness and Elvis watches in a sort of disembodied trance as she undoes the thick tie holding his robe closed.

This is another thing he was gonna take slow. Getting naked, touching and being touched no faster or intensely than what he directed and allowed. And…well, there it goes, his robe and his resolve opened up and pushed off his shoulders as slow as a strip tease while this perfect young thing has her watching face transformed from caring into something so hungry and admiring he actually feels his pulse quicken.

That’s more like it, the natural order of things is somewhat restored when the caregiver shifts from viewing him with solicitude to viewing him with the divine and fathomless want that is feminine arousal.

But still.

Sweet Jesus, it’s been forever since someone reacted to his body that way. The face sure, the man -yes, and the legendary presence is a given. But that’s all outliers of him, of poor little ole Elvis alone in his own room, in his own house, without the trappings. Nobody in a long while has taken the trappings off and moaned like a paid whore at the sight of something so utterly human and a little faulty as his body now is. A body Elvis has fought and lost against for well over a decade now.

The robe puddles around his feet and he expects it’s time to get in the shower if Gigi would pull her eyes up from his protruding gut. She’s already seen it once today when she unzipped his jacket. After an overly long review where he can actually see her crane her head down to try to see his pecker -jokes on her, the gut hides it- and up his treasure trail to his chest and his neck and his chin and his lips-

-Gigi throws her arms around his shoulders and kisses him. The sight of him naked and hairy, manly and huge, with a hanging belly too much for her to hold her desires back any longer.

Elvis is as warm as she remembers and with his body unimpeded by a tracksuit or a robe she can now fully press her body against his, standing toe to toe with their heights not too dissimilar, making it wonderful and easy to kiss him as she presses herself to every inch of his tacky skin, so much muscle and discipline polished beneath the soft and hairy bulk. It makes her feel small, just how wide and broad and large he is in comparison to her, tall and lanky as she is, she’s never been little before, but with this bear of a man she could curl into his barrel chest and pull the hairy curtains closed and be tucked away from it all. Like a fairytale princess in her favorite oak.

“I want you to crush me.” she moans in his ear as she curves her body to align with the pouch of his belly, her ass stuck out for optimal contact and Elvis groans in response, seeing the pair they make in the fogging mirror.

Something in him responds to the rightness of the image presented, fogged by the steam and softened where they’re two pink cherubs caught in an embrace, her soft breast resting on the dome of his furred chest.

Both complimentary but untraditional in their combination, - a sorta Gainsbourg and Birkin vibe where everyone’s left wondering how exactly the gargoyle got the maiden -or the thickening rockstar got this sweet piece of ass- but nobody doubts the sex is blazing hot.

It’s sexy as hell and the temperate side of himself that health and Ginger had been striving to coax into the fore, plummets into a lava filled grave at the primal, loin swelling satisfaction of Gigi and her nakedness pressed to him, writhing against him, reveling in him and trusting in his masculine abilities to satisfy her.

He grips an ass cheek in his hand, spanning from hip to crack, and crushes it to him meanly, pinching her soft skin with hsi rings, his other arm flung about her ribs and pressing her nearer there, too. Gigi lets out the happiest cry of completion at him granting her request. It’s breathless and short from the lack of air left in her lungs.

“This how ya like it?” Gigi hears him rumble darkly in her ear and she feels herself dribble at his voice alone, finding the feeling of all his strength and power pressed to her more overwhelming that any self-brought pleasure.

She can only nod her head frantically in agreement, his grip too hard and tight for anything else, she feels like she’s floating and somehow that’s more grounding for her than anything else she’s ever felt in her life. He must feel her shudder as he responds with one of his own and readjusts his grip on her butt, fingertips grazing the underside of her cheek and teasing the folds that lead to where she’s a wet mess for him.

He teases there for a moment, tiny, ticklish little swipes to the back of her waxed pussy lips and then he curls his fingers again and grips harder than even before, into her plush ass and he lifts her up to her tiptoes by the hold, making them level before slotting his mouth against hers, the closest thing to sloppy in his kisses that she’s yet experienced from him.

It delights her. This gritty, unmeasured side of him that doesn’t take things in measured and calculated amounts. She wants to be mauled and squeezed and have the crescent indentions of his fingernails on her ass. She wants to be irresistible to him, she wants him to appraise and enjoy her like she’s both precious and objectively the only thing he wants to squeeze and fuck for the rest of his life. She’s ready for that life. Gigi mauls him back, careful to be gentle with her pressure but she kneads his soft sides and the thick cording of his neck, so full of strength but also inflammation -and she suddenly recalls the shower.

Having broken their kiss, they both glance over at the pattering water. And it’s better this way, neither having to break up the moment, they both just seem to agree and proceed to amble over in a waddling embrace and step into the lavish shower.

Gigi has already washed but she won’t be the one reminding Elvis of that as he squirts a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and grumbles about her stupid drugstore lemon shit. That wanting to have him paw at her and be a little sleazy in his touches is gratified by the way he spends too long on her boobs, something that is traditionally a rather clean body part. But his boyish little smile and the single minded lostness on his face he suds up their heavy weight and let’s her large pink nipples slide through his knuckles, his pink tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he gently jiggles the slippery firmness of them, makes Gigi sigh in dreamy delight that she can bring him joy by standing in the shower and letting him wobble her boobs, clapping them together one minute and jostling them the next to make the soap suds slid and back and forth along the runway to her nipples. They might have stayed at that game all night, both quite invested in never letting one little congregation of bubbles slip off the Cherry red cliff onto the shower floor. But Elvis yawned once and just like that they decided it was time to wash him and go to bed. With a sad kiss goodbye to one of her large nipples, Elvis allows for the roles to be reversed.

Of course washing him was strictly utilitarian. What was she on about, lathing his shins and his thighs and squeezing his ass like he was a nineteen year old girl? And what was it about Gigi rubbing his shoulders as she went and then turning him around into the spray to wash it off as she started to work at his front, giggling to herself as she swooshed his chest hair into certain patterns with the slippery soap. She even hefted his own boob flaps up, something he fuckin’ hated even existed right now, and she did it with heavy lidded eyes and bitten lips like she was getting off on this, on swishing suds around his large belly before squatting to get her first peak at lil Elvis.

He was still soft, or mostly so, but what shocked Gigi was how thick he was even in repose. Laying heavily on his thigh, his length was nothing much, decent but not particularly matching of his long limbs, but his thickness was to a degree that she wished she did have the stupid Lemon Up shampoo to compare it to, it wasn’t too far off. She didn't know dicks came in that size, the sorta size that makes babies heads coming out seem like not much of an escalation. Alright maybe not that big but he was large, very thick and cutely stubby and Gigi wondered if maybe it was swollen like the rest of him, if it changed with age or weight, if his pink and vulnerable little head was always peaking out of its tan sheath and if his stones were always so large and heavy, asking for the same treatment as her boobs got.

She cupped them with a dollop of shampoo in her hand and jostled the heavy sack gently and with joy in her heart. Elvis lurched forward to lean his forearm against the shower wall to steady himself.

“Gigi, honey, be brief.” he begged and if he’d have commanded her, then she might’ve popped the heavy balls into her mouth just to show him what she thought about him always denying himself any fun, but Elvis was begging and above her his belly heaved with his labored breathing and much as she wanted to see him swell to life, she cared more about seeing him rested.

Reluctantly she finished with a swipe and rinse to the back of his sack and between his crack which made him jump like a critter ran up it instead of a diligent hand. Gigi liked it when he was boyish and shy like that. It makes her press a kiss to his floppy little dick, so heavy and promising in its shrunken state and he lets out a scandalized groan at the feel of her nibbling at the tip with her lips.

“No, no honey don’t.” he begs and gives her a hand to pull her up, she remains steadfastly on her knees with a hand on little Elvis like he’s a handle of some sort. “Good girls don’t do such things.” He explains gently but with firmness, “There ain’t no need, that’s not somethin’ I need from a sweet thing like you.”

Gigi is far from relieved. In fact, if the shower spray weren’t so universal he’d think her eyes were welling with tears for the zillionth time tonight.

“What?” he barks in absolute confusion.

“But I wanna suck you!” she begs, hoarse and throaty and -she’s definitely back to crying again, sweet Jesus, he’d gotten himself a huge tittied young woman who cried over not being allowed to have his cock in her mouth.“I practiced just for the odd chance I ever met you!” she pleads in a desperate cry.

“What?” Elvis looks down at her perturbed and has to admit, unsettled as he is by this, she sure does look pretty right at cock level.

“I practiced with a nice guy who was cut so I had to pretend.” she explains mournfully and Elvis hauls her bodily up by her elbows against the tile to understand this riddle.

“Thought you said you were a virgin, baby.” he chides in confusion about the aspect of practicing for him.

“I am!” She swears, “But I practiced for you! See, I can-“ and she sticks her fingers back to her tonsils with only a small gag that makes Elvis’ masculine heart twinge in admiration.

But he’s better than this. He’s beyond appreciating her gag control and needs to know about this so called nice guy. “Darlin’ who’s this feller?” Elvis has a knack for recalling names and he’s gonna shoot this sonuvabitch if he can find him.

“He was a sweet trucker,” she explains with dreamy reminiscence, “about your age or older, and he fixed my flat tire when it popped near Jackson last year. He was real sweet and I wanted to thank him. He shared his Sundrop with me and he had one of your albums on the radio in his cab. So we talked about you and I told him how I loved you -this was a year ago- and how I wished I could meet you and show you how I loved you. And he lived in Meridian, see, and he sounded a little like you and he had dark hair and this gorgeous belly and when I sucked him I listened to your voice singing through the radio and pretended it was you.”

She finishes this saga with a simple head nod, like that’s all real tidy and normal. Elvis just gapes and a million feelings rush through him, horror at the fact she’s this gullible and unprotected, followed by burning pride at the idea of having been a preoccupation of her’s for so long. Some of this smacks of psycho stalker fan and he should probably run for the hills but Gigi pretended to blow him a year or so ago with a flabby truck diver and Elvis has a vision of that happening again if he somehow screws this up and she ends up on her own again.

That just can’t happen. He shuts his mouth and coughs, realizing that just can’t happen. “Do you like fat men, Gigi?” he asks soberly.

She looks a little hurt by this before replying with wounded devotion and a wobble of her wet lip, “I only love you.”

Elvis sighs and shakes head in astonishment and presses a kiss to the top of her wet head before turning off the shower stream. She likes it when he rolls his eyes at her but doesn’t push her away, Doesn't say she’s silly, just kisses her into compliance. She likes that.

She likes it even better when he was wet and large in the shower grinning down at her, wrapping her up in towels they had to waddle to the drawers to get in dripping pairs.

“You’re somethin’ else, baby.” he tells her but never says it’s too much. She’s waited all night for him to tell her she’s too much it she’s too clingy or she’s too effusive and he hasn’t said it yet.

Gigi helped him step into his silk pajamas pants, he was strangely meek and appreciative of this sort of help and it made her sigh with relief, letting her guard down as she did up the buttons of his sleep shirt under his smiling gaze. She had to ignore the chill of the room on her bare skin, gooseflesh pricking beneath chilled droplets, but it was worth it for the way his eyes ravished her with searching adoration, every single part of her.

Elvis offered her pajamas of her own, too, matching his own. She declared she never could sleep in clothes and the shocked little O of his mouth made her giggle, then he looked hurt and tried very hard to persuade her to try it for him.

“C’mon baby, everybody needs ‘jamies.” he sweet talks to her, holding open the waist band.

“I can’t sleep in them! It’s got elastic!” she sounded like a child forced to eat collards.

“Gigi, wear some pajamas,” Elvis tried sternness, “do it for your daddy, now.”

She sobered up at that, while remaining dried eyed much to his relief. With a slowness of movement and a grimace of distaste that showed her dislike, Gigi took the pajama top from him and slid it on.

It hung there unbuttoned with her bare cunt out and her belly and tits and legs and everything nearly, except for her covered arms, and then she smiled at him with self sacrificing serenity in her eyes while murmuring, “Only for you, daddy.”

And that’s how they ended in bed with Gigi in nothing but an open silk pajama shirt, sans bottoms, with an embroidered E of her right yam.

“I can’t believe they expect you to tour like this.” she muttered as his sweet expressions turned to grimaces and groans upon stretching out on the mattress. Tired from just entertaining a girl and her friends. The closest to angry he thinks Gigi is capable of as she scrunches her brows in frustration and he finds he has to hide a smile instead of telling this little girl to mind her own. She’s frustrated for his own benefit.

“I got good days and bad days.” he explains, turned on his side and stroking her face where it lay on their shared pillow, the room dark except for a lamp on, showing them in the mirror above. “Today were tougher than some, not ‘cause of you but jus’-“

“You woke up with a migraine.” She recalled and he is touched by that.

“Yeah, and had to take more pills for it.” he agrees, “and I gotta take s’more before I can sleep.” he warns her but Gigi just hums and keeps on kneading the back of his neck in a way that is liable to make him start drooling.

“When do we leave for the tour?” she asks, setting in and slinging her naked leg over his hip comfortably.

His heart skips a beat at her presumption. Then it plays catch up and bounds so hard he feels winded as he gasps, “September.”

“We’ve gotta get you better by then.” she mutters, “And you’ll have to help me with midterms, it’ll be crazy trying to pass long distance.” To herself Gigi ponders on whether she might have to push back school in order to be with her Daddy, the thought troubles her none because she’d fail it a million times in order to get more time with him. As long as he’ll have her and even then she knows she’d never be able to leave him as compliantly as Ginger had.

Elvis contemplates the fact she’s willing to risk college for him, that she depends on him for midterms and his belly tightens at the thought in anxious hope.

He turns on his other side, hoping for some relief from the belly ache. Without fail she follows and curls around him,seeking to understand he can’t take the heavy pressure of laying on it, and she is jetpacking on his back like a clingy koala, legs and arms woven around him until he’s half laying back on her.

“Baby Girl, I’m gonna smother ya.” he resists a little laugh as she has him in something close to a wrestling pose, legs wrapped around his hips from the back and arms over his belly, his back smashing her boobs.

She lets out a happy moan instead, “I want you to.” Gigi insists and sounds close to climax at the feel of his weight on top of her. She keeps her hold on him tight, content with feeling enveloped by him as droplets of water drip from his hair onto her chest.

Pretty lil weirdo.

“S’like a elephant layin’ on a junebug, we can’t sleep this way.” Elvis finds himself grinning at the comical image reflected in the mirrors above.

“But it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” she begs, “I’ve dreamed about this. Take your pills daddy’s and we’ll go to sleep now.”

Compliant in his bewilderment, Elvis props up and measures out his doses in his palm, swallowing them down dry before lying back, trying to aim for the mattress but Gigi wriggles beneath his bulk again and he prays he doesn’t get another lawsuit on his hands come morning for smothering the life out of a teen girl.

“Do you want a burger?” she asks softly in his ear, right as he starts to relax in her protective hold. He’s got his arms criss crossed across his body to hold her own as they hug him.

“Uh, umm, no -I-I-I’m -I’m sleepy.” he drawls, torn at the lovely idea of a burger after such a long evening but then again, his head is pillowed on boobs and Gigi’s fingers are swirling shapes in the hair on his belly under his shirt. He doesn’t really feel like ever leaving. She makes a better mattress than any amount of money could ever buy.

“Ok, honest?” she whispers in his ear and he smiles into his pillow at her childish earnestness.

He presents a wobbly pinky for her to witness his solemn oath and she happily hooks her littler one with his and they curl round each other, it feels like a promise of more than just midnight burgers. A promise of him helping with midterms and her never having another man in her life.

To his surprise, just as he starts to drift off, Elvis feels Gigi’s hand slither beneath the waistband of his silk pajamas. He thought she’d gotten the message he’s not up for it, the preliminary little snores from the sedatives underscoring his point, but all she does is cup his soft package in her palm, like it’s the most precious wobby in the world for her, and promptly starts snoring little snores herself.

Elvis tries to savor the feeling of her holding him through the night and as he slumbers, her voice manages to break through the fog of dreams talking about midterms to come, about his tour in September — with his surety in their future aided by the promise of their still clinging pinkies, sleep comes easier than it has in years.

———————————-

I hope y’all enjoyed, thank you for reading and thank you for all the prompts that got us here! We are working on a prompt list because after his chapter we open it up to jumping around with prompts. But don’t feel like you’ve got to wait till then, go ahead and send in whatever you’d like and I’ll see what I can cook up! 🌷 xoxo

[venuslcver]

WITHIN SCHOOL WALLS PT. 2 ⋆

pairing: academicweapon!jj x rival!reader

synopsis: a rivalry between two classmates, jayj and you, seemed to be just a miscommunication.

tw: flirting, banter, profanity, fluff, feminine described character (no use of y/n)

any type of interaction including likes, comments, and reblogs is appreciated! but ultimately not necessary. let me know if im missing any warnings!

from the moment that jayj stepped onto school grounds, he had been looking for you. peaking his head into multiple rooms within the school— solely looking for you in each of them. ignore the heckling of multiple teachers and the occasional, student.

he didn't really care about the aggressive words being hurled at him. too set on finding you. i mean, he couldn't stop thinking about you ever since the last exchange that occurred, the day before.

seeing the fact that he had failed to locate you within the usual places that you took residence in— he planned on continuing the search. when he heard the bell that signaled the official start of the school day, he let out a huff, realizing that if you were in the school; he would have found you.

though, the problem at hand is, because of the previous distain that you had for him, you had failed to give him your number. leaving him in the dark.

by lunch, jayj had begun to lose hope of seeing you that day. scanning the entire lunch room, just by chance he caught his sights on your figure. setting down your food tray, while giggling at something a girlfriend of yours said.

even if he saw you from behind, unable to see your face. his shameless gawking in the previous years really paid off for jayj. allowing any part of your body able to be identifiable to him. especially that ass of yours.

quick to saunter over to you before he lost you in the crowd of bodies, before slowly, and quietly coming up behind you, "boo!"

"jesus christ!", you said letting out an earsplitting screech, before swiftly turning around and slapping your hands against jj's chest.

murmuring a soft "sorry" and shrugging your shoulders, when you saw the mass of people that turned to face you at your outburst. all while jayj just laughed it off. as he pulled you into a hug as a non-verbal apology, you began giggling along with him.

"did you really have to do that?", you asked imposingly, while pulling away from the sweet hug, freeing up a seat at your lunch table for him.

"no — but then i wouldn't have a reason to hug you"

now flattered at his insinuation, you responded cheeky, "who said you couldn't hug me for no reason?"

and just like that, jayj was in shambles— unable to speak for a moment. which was rare for his know-it-all ass, who always had some type of witty response in rebuttal. a serious, red-tinted pattern, now, engulfed jj's cheeks. whilst just letting out a strained chuckle.

not having a clue of how to respond without sounding like a complete, and utter loser— he changed the subject with haste.

"so — uh when, we last talked... you'know, you never really clarified on when you were available..."

smiling at his lack of subtleness when it came to talking about future romantic plans, you spoke lightly, "well, i mean, i have plans for tonight — howeverrr... i'm completely free tomorrow..."

"...but only if'ya want to," you said, knowing damn well that jayj would practically jump out of his skin at the opportunity to go out with you this soon.

and he did just that, trying to contain his jitteriness, taking a moment to calm down, but not before letting a word of excitement out, "yes!"

"uh — i-i mean yeah, ya, sure"

nodding at him, taking a large bite of your lunch, in an attempt to avoid making him feel back for excitement. which, he did a horrific job of hiding. seeing you laugh a little at his outburst, jayj took the chance to innocently tease you.

"well, damn mama, aren't you hungry?"

quickly swallowing your bite of the food with your eyes about to bug out of your fuck'n head, "mama?", you said absolutely stunned at his new nickname for you. honestly, you looked like a damn stress ball with how much you were spooked. jayj simultaneously, at the same time, registered exactly what came out of his mouth. regret overcoming the whole entirety of jj's cast.

"sorry, yeah sorry, i just meant that you look very hungry, you'know?"

calming down after a mere second, you morphed your face into a half smile with the slightest movement of your head. still, slightly unsure about what he recently just said.

hell, jayj was still confused about who exactly took over his form— to cause him to call you mama. at least this early into getting to really know you. i mean he could've waited until later down the line to cross that boundary.

after a couple brief moments of awkwardness, you offered jayj a bite of your food. which, lead him to practically taking over your whole damn plate of food.

at the moment, he sat beside you, inhaling your food, occasionally giving you a piece of it— settling your phone on the circler-shaped lunch table. sliding it a mere two feet away, to him, letting him type his number into your phone. so, jayj and you could settle the rest of the details of the next night.

[metalmonki]

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 13

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

2k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Night had settled, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Dean and I lay tangled together in his bed, the dim light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. The familiar scent of leather and gun oil mingled with the faint crispness of the night air wafting through the open window.

Dean was propped up on one elbow, his other arm draped casually across my waist. His fingers idly traced patterns on my hip as we talked about the plan for the next day. Sam had found another hunt—something about a possible poltergeist in Kansas—and we’d decided to hit the road first thing in the morning.

“Back to business as usual, huh?” I murmured, my voice low to match the stillness of the night.

Dean’s lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah, except now I’ve got you riding shotgun and no excuses to pretend I don’t want you there.”

I chuckled softly, resting my head against his shoulder. “Better not make me regret it, Winchester.”

His hand paused for a moment, then he tipped his head down to kiss my forehead. “Not a chance.”

The quiet that followed was comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. I was just about to close my eyes when the unmistakable sound of fluttering wings filled the room.

Dean and I both sat bolt upright, and there, at the foot of the bed, stood Castiel. His piercing blue eyes flicked between us, and his brow furrowed deeply, his usual stoic demeanor replaced with what could only be described as confusion—and maybe a hint of disapproval.

“You’re in the same bed,” Castiel said, his tone blunt and unfiltered, as always. “This is… unexpected.”

Dean groaned, running a hand down his face. “Cas, seriously? You ever heard of knocking? Or I don’t know, not teleporting into people’s bedrooms?”

Castiel ignored him, his gaze fixed on me now, as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “I’ve been speaking with God,” he said gravely, “and He is… displeased.”

That got Dean’s attention. His jaw tightened, and he straightened up, his voice laced with irritation. “Displeased about what, exactly?”

Cas shifted uncomfortably, his trench coat rustling as he crossed his arms. “You and Y/N,” he said simply. “You are disrupting His plans.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up. “Disrupting His plans? What does that even mean?”

Cas took a step closer, his expression more serious than usual. “God’s plan for you, Dean, and for you, Y/N, did not involve this... union.” He gestured vaguely at the bed, as though the sight of us there was evidence enough. “Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design.”

Dean let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that God’s got a problem with me finally being happy? That’s rich, Cas. Real rich.”

“It’s not about happiness,” Cas replied, his tone more urgent now. “It’s about purpose. Your paths were meant to remain parallel, not intersect.”

Dean scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, squaring off with the angel. “Yeah, well, maybe God’s plans suck, Cas. Ever think of that? Maybe we’re done playing by His rules.”

Cas tilted his head, looking genuinely perplexed. “You would defy God’s will for this?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he glanced back at me before answering. “For her? Yeah, I would.”

The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood up beside him, crossing my arms as I faced Cas. “If we’re ruining God’s plans, maybe it’s because they weren’t the right ones to begin with.”

Cas regarded us both for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, a rare and almost human sound. “You’re treading dangerous ground,” he warned. “God does not take kindly to deviations.”

Dean stepped closer, his voice firm. “Tell Him we’re not His puppets. If He’s got a problem, He knows where to find me.”

Cas looked at him, then at me, a flicker of something—doubt? Worry?—crossing his face. Without another word, he disappeared in a rustle of wings, leaving us standing there in the quiet room.

Dean turned to me, his hand finding mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, though my heart was still racing. “Are you?”

He smirked, pulling me closer. “Cas can tell God whatever he wants. You and me? That’s the plan I’m sticking to.”

I smiled despite the lingering unease. Whatever storm was brewing, we’d face it together.

The next morning, the Impala roared to life, the familiar rumble filling the air as we hit the road toward Kansas. Dean’s hands gripped the wheel, his movements effortless as he navigated the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the horizon.

Sam was in the backseat, a stack of papers balanced on his lap as he rattled off details about the case. “Any family that moves in moves back out again within about a month—objects moving on their own, cold spots, and what sounds like footsteps in the attic. A couple of classic poltergeist markers. No deaths so far.”

Theresa leaned against the window, arms crossed, nodding along. “And you’re sure it’s not just residual energy? Last time, we wasted a whole day on what turned out to be a faulty HVAC system.”

Sam shot her a look. “Pretty sure. There’s also been some whispering voices and a mirror shattering. That’s not exactly a draft.”

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the passing scenery, barely listening. Castiel’s words from the night before kept echoing in my mind: Your relationship is altering the trajectory of His design. I tried to push it away, but the weight of it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Dean’s voice pulled me out of my spiral. “You okay, sweetheart?”

I blinked, glancing over at him. His green eyes flicked from the road to me, concern etched into his expression. He’d always had a way of seeing right through me, even when I tried to hide it.

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been quiet. And not the good kind of quiet—like, something’s on your mind kind of quiet.”

Theresa leaned forward slightly from the back, peering over Sam’s shoulder. “You’ve been zoning out since we left Bobby’s. Everything okay?”

I hesitated, glancing back at Sam and Theresa before looking at Dean. “It’s nothing,” I said finally, but my voice lacked conviction.

Dean’s hand shifted on the wheel, his knuckles brushing against mine in a brief but grounding touch. “If it’s nothing, why are you chewing on it like it’s gonna bite back?”

Sam sighed from the back, folding the papers in his hands. “This about Castiel?” Dean asked.

I tensed, and Dean’s jaw tightened. “Cas? What about him?” Sam asked.

I exhaled, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this. “It’s just… what he said last night. About us messing up God’s plans.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, God’s plans haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows, have they? You think I care what He thinks about us?”

“I know,” I said softly. “But it’s not that simple, Dean. What if—”

Dean cut me off, his voice firm but not unkind. “No. There’s no ‘what if.’ You and me? That’s not up for debate. Not for God, not for Cas, not for anyone.”

Theresa leaned back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not exactly Team God either, but maybe there’s something to it. If Cas thinks it’s important enough to show up, it’s worth considering.”

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Yeah, well, considering doesn’t mean worrying yourself sick over it. Cas said his piece, and we said ours. End of story.”

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “I get where you’re coming from, Y/N. But Dean’s right—God’s plans haven’t exactly worked out for us in the past. Maybe it’s time we make our own.”

I looked out the window again, the Kansas plains stretching endlessly before us. Dean’s hand reached over, resting briefly on my knee.

“You’re with me, right?” he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening just a little. “Always.”

He smiled, and for a moment, the weight of Castiel’s words seemed lighter. Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t facing it alone.

The motel room was as bland as they came—beige walls, worn-out carpet, and a bed that creaked if you so much as breathed wrong. But after a long day of nothing but mold inspections and realizing the supposed "haunting" was a total bust, it felt like a luxury. The air still carried a faint scent of bleach from when housekeeping had gone over the room earlier, but at least it was clean.

Sam and Theresa had decided to make the most of the free evening, heading out to a local diner that Sam had claimed made "the best pie in Kansas." Dean had scoffed at the idea of any pie being better than the ones at a certain diner three states over, but he didn’t argue when Sam handed him the room key and said they’d be back later.

Dean and I had opted to stay in, the lure of a quiet night too tempting after the day’s events. Now, we were curled up in bed, the flickering glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Dean had one arm around me, his other hand resting lazily on the remote as he channel-surfed through a lineup of mostly forgettable shows.

“Is it just me,” he murmured, “or is TV getting worse?”

I mumbled something incoherent in response, half-asleep against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing, combined with the low hum of the TV, had lulled me into a state of complete relaxation. My hand rested lightly on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Dean glanced down at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’re not gonna weigh in on the great TV debate, huh?”

I didn’t answer, already lost to sleep. Dean chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my shoulder as he turned his attention back to the screen. Some old western was playing, the kind with over-the-top gunfights and dramatic music. It wasn’t exactly gripping, but it was enough to keep him entertained.

The room was peaceful, the kind of quiet that rarely came in our line of work. Dean leaned back against the headboard, feeling the rare comfort of contentment as he listened to my soft, even breathing.

Then came the unmistakable sound of feathers.

Dean’s entire body tensed as the fluttering noise filled the room, disrupting the calm like a ripple through still water. He glanced down at me, relieved to see I was still fast asleep, before his eyes darted toward the foot of the bed.

And there he was—Castiel, standing stiffly in his trench coat, his blue eyes locked on Dean with the same intensity they always carried.

Dean sighed heavily, careful not to wake me as he shifted to sit up straighter. “Really, Cas? You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Castiel’s gaze flicked from Dean to me, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that might have been disapproval. “I have news,” he said simply, his voice as gravelly and direct as ever.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath before looking back at the angel. “Can it wait? She’s finally sleeping.”

Cas didn’t answer, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer before he turned his full attention back to Dean. “No. It cannot wait.”

Dean sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Of course it can’t.”

The TV droned on in the background, the light from the screen casting a faint glow over the room as the scene faded into silence, leaving only the weight of whatever news Castiel had brought hanging in the air.

[lisa972kdlz]

Le cœur a sa mémoire :(Heart got his memory)

Another theoretical analysis about Underverse! More specifically about Error's character, his development, his personality and what might be going through his mind in the context of the series.

When you look at Error's behaviour in Underverse and compare it to his behaviour in the original comic, you quickly realise that it's not the same. And when you browse through the various versions of Error to be found in fandom, whether in fan fiction, comics or simple gags, it's this version of the Underverse that's found with varying degrees of nuance. In other words, a serious, grumpy, tsundere Error who hiss at the first person he meets. And... I'm really not a fan of this Error, because in my opinion it's less interesting and, above all, leads to received ideas that head straight for the cliché highway. Why do we have this skewed image of the character? Is it really inconsistent and unworthy of his integrity? Is this a bad thing, and does Underverse follow this line? Should we limit ourselves to saying that Underverse isn't canon so there's no reason to criticise constructively or even try to find connections?

Obviously not, because with a bit of imagination (and philosophy), there's (almost) always a way to put the pieces of the jigsaw together to give it concrete form! First of all, let's dissociate the Canon version of Error from its Fanon version.

In terms of personality, Error Canon is more like the Collector in The Owl House than the vampire-spider Miguel O'Hara in Spiderverse. An unhinged and paranoid Collector, but all the same. He's chatty, he smiles, and has no trouble talking to anyone, whether it's the creators who ask him questions, his prisoner Swap!Sans, or that strange visitor, the Sans that Fresh usually owns. It's a far cry from the grumpy, withdrawn character who refuses all human contact. In the comic, his reticence is often relatively controlled, and in any case, if he does do any harm, it very rarely comes back to the Gaster blasters. When Swap gives him a completely off-the-wall speech about friendship, yeah, he abandons him temporarily in the Anti-Void to teach him a lesson, but even in a panic he doesn't hurt or attack him. When he thinks he's being manipulated by Darkblitz8, he hangs her high into the air with his strings, but nothing more. Then he calms down straight away and quietly puts his hands back in his pockets and says, "What a nice lady, I love making new friends."

"Love. Making. New friends."

Yes, that's Error saying that, can you believe it? It's said as a joke, but OF COURSE he's sincere... And for a thousand and one reasons. What I mean is that, like every Sans else, he more has a tendency to hide his thoughts behind jokes or false humour than to reject or attack others. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but it's a tendency.

The only time he pulls out his blasters (outside of destroying AU's) is when he gets a surprise hug from behind and when FRESH shows up out of nowhere. So it's relatively legitimate (but only relatively because there's nothing legitimate about exterminating your neighbour Ú^Ù).

Nevertheless, the Fandom version and the original version have one thing in common: Error is completely anti-social, fearful of others, and hates himself viscerally without admitting it to himself. But the "Tsundere" version is highly caricatured, with temperaments that are sometimes the exact opposite of what Error is! He is portrayed as cold, distant, incapable of not shouting when something displeases him, and so on. But in reality he answers questions, accepts a handshake from a stranger and even describes it as "pleasurable", talks about his tastes, admits word for word that he likes having people to talk to, concedes to requests... The only sensitive subjects are his personal problems, which include Papyrus, Toriel and, of course, himself.

But he hates glitches, right? The AU's and all that, he hates them?

Yes, he hates them, but subconsciously he makes a dissociation between the mass of shapeless glitches and an individual. When he goes to destroy AUs, they're glitches. When he meets someone at random and starts to build a human relationship with them (Swap), he almost forgets that he's supposed to hate him.

Canon Error plays the villain, but in fact he's a frightened little beast in denial about his extreme loneliness and strong self-hatred. This also fits the fandom version, but in a kind of misunderstood inverse: not only does he lose all his glitched, unpredictable, paranoid and nightmarish side, but above all he also loses his cute and childlike side, naive, unaware of social references like the term "ship", with surprising tastes and a real desire to form bonds when he feels it's safe to do so. As a result, he loses that strange duality that creates a feeling of unease, a mixture of fear and attachment, because we sense that he has totally human emotions but is too deranged to be able to be a truly healthy friend with anyone... He can hardly even be described as a narcissistic pervert, because he has already shown real compassion and even if he blames people for his misfortune, he won't tell them directly or make them feel guilty about it; he's more likely to say it to himself. He's more direct when he's in "destroyer" mode, but it's still accusations about people's glitch state in a general sense, like a "hate you all". No, he's not even just an asshole, he's just.... Insane. We forget that he's insane.

Also, when he feels threatened, Error will automatically step into his villain role with sardonic laughter and striking retorts. The Fanon version, on the other hand, will spit in the person's face and express his anger. He's rational, hateful, sinister, a killjoy and stable in his tempestuous character. Of course, there are fanarts and gags where the cute side is brought out... But they're usually just gags, and in fanfiction and comics they're rarely shown and often anecdotal without much imagination...

OK, I've been talking about the Fanon version for a while now, but does Error in Underverse have this problem?

Well...

No ┐( ∵ )┌!

Firstly because in Underverse it's moderate, and he's presented in situations where it's understandable (the majority of his interactions are with Ink, his sworn foe so obviously he's going to be on the defensive), but also, we'll see later, because the series raises an important side of who Error has become over the course of time, and confronts him with an ultimatum, where his status quô goes is smashed to pieces.

I'm not in favour of Error being ultra-aggressive and cold in stories in general because I find it makes him interesting as a dead rat, but portraying him as more serious, intelligent and aware of the world around him isn't a bad choice. How can we explain it?

Well... He grew old, that's all.

The Error of Underverse, and by extension of the Fandom, is a character who has evolved, been revisited and experienced in many different ways. He's gone from the "guy who messes things up in the AU's" to the "Destroyer", his overall power too has increased as fans have seen his potential for danger, which may be a parallel to the fact that he's... simply trained and toughened up as he goes along? There's nothing to stop us imagining a future based on the Canon we've been left with. He simply accumulates memory. Even the fact that Ink and Error are enemies, it isn't canon, but... Well, it makes perfect sense, because by putting universes in danger, of course he had to face the protector at some point!

Error has visited AU's, encountered situations that have taught him lessons... He has grown in maturity. Fine, he still gets nought for emotional maturity, but he has grown anyway, which is normal and a good thing (because if the characters never evolved in an open world, we'd be a bit bored all the same).

That said, there's a rather annoying glitch that's going to mess things up a bit...

It's her again, Ma'am the Canon description ! ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

In Canon, canonically, in real real real real.... Error is incapable of evolving. It's in his nature, quite simply. Because he's an "error".

According to Crayon Queen, the ending of Error's comic should have gone like this: Swap! Sans, as a result of being exposed to the Anti-Void, becomes an error in his own right, an erratic and unhinged being whose character and memory become dislocated and distorted. He retains his positive and heroic character, so it doesn't make him a villain, but he remains unpredictable and difficult to follow, and therefore dangerous. Error will feel horrible about this and will even be confronted with a deep guilt that will convince him to let him go. "Blueberror" will then be guided into the Omega Timeline by Core Frisk where he will go to live. And Error will find himself alone again in the Anti-Void, alone in this white nothingness, alone in the middle of All. As time goes by, he will forget all about the experience and return to the person he was before without questioning, for such is the destiny of errors. Corrupted things with no hope of salvation.

Yes, it's tragic, but that's the way it is! And Passive!Night is dead, get used to it!

(Never! QwQ)

(*Rubbing her hands) What if we tried to slip through the cracks and get round this restrictive element, all the while respecting the character and his universe?

Come on, let's get started?

We're off!

So why does Error lose his memory?

Because he's an error, all right. But is that all? Aren't there other remarkable factors that make him forget?

Already, exposure continues to the Anti-Void, where living leads to harmful consequences. To explain why, I had theorised that, being the opposite of the Void, it was the Core of the Multiverse, also known as the Great Whole, where codes intersect and aggreate. –I've done some research in the meantime and the Doodlesphere can't really be a Core, because it's Ink's 'private' dimension. It's an empty zone (perhaps an empty AU which is recognisable by its nature as a white or off-white nothingness without, however, corresponding to the properties of the Anti-Void) where the painter has grouped together some sort of links to access the AUs. It's a bit like a custom Doc document with thousands of URLs, but not a Heart.–

Exposed to the Anti-Void for too long, some of our codes end up merging with the dimension; we lose some, we receive some, until we become errors, a bit like a slow dissolution. Our memory is obviously affected. At the moment of transformation, but perhaps also as we continue to be exposed to it?

If you don't like this theory, there's also the fact that, well... It's a void. White. No wind, no heat or cold, no light, no shadow, no palpable matter. EVIDENTLY it causes an alteration in the brain and memory. If Error left the Anti-Void for somewhere less... Creepy, it's easy to imagine that his continual amnesia would be less severe.

And finally, the last and most important reason...

Error is alone and bored shitless.

Now let's going to do a bit of philosophy, because philosophy of the real world is science of fiction.

What is Memory (and owh shet I don't have fucking idea of the nuances of vocabulary in English philosophy–) ?

(Well in French "Souvenir" is meanging like memory and "Mémoire" the global uniting of the memories, I suppose there exists a term to make the nuance but I don't know enough about it so... Let's say that Souvenir = memory and Mémoire = Memory, okay?

Sorry ...TwT)

So, roughly speaking, it's the collection of our memories recorded by a stade of consciousness of a moment that was present but is now past. Not to be confused with storage medium: there's a lot of information recorded by the brain that we can't remember (in Error's case it's most certainly out of order too, at least in part).

The conditions for a memory are as follows: to fixate on an object, situation or person in order to take aware of it. Reflecting enables this to happen, because reflecting is about taking the initiative and interrupting the flow of thought in order to consider a specific idea; thinking that you've had that thought. It's like a computer: there are lots of images stored inside, but you won't have access to them, or only with difficulty, if you don't think about printing them out in physical format. In any case, to have a Memory, you need a trigger, something that connects you to reality and makes you say: I remember that.

And Error doesn't have that. There's nothing memorable about his life as an anomaly. He is alone, all the time, in a nothingness where nothing happens, where there is nothing beautiful. A memory is only a memory if we have a consciousness of a past and a present. But Anti-Void has no day, no night, no timetable, no real time. And the only time Error goes out is to kill masses of people he doesn't care about and doesn't even consider to be living beings. He doesn't care about the AU's he destroys. If we were to make a scrapbook of his holiday memories... It would be limited to sewing, sleep, Undernovela, destruction, conversation with imaginary people (his dolls or even us), Outertale, sewing, sleep.

He's alone and he FEELS alone. So lonely that he hears voices in his head, so lonely that he talks to his own dolls. He needs others. We can even assume, in the Canon at least, that he's an extrovert.

Yes, I just said Error was extroverted, and that's extremely weird 😅

But really, it's not so crazy. An extrovert is defined by the way the person resources themselves. Introverted, by being alone, extroverted, by seeing people. It's perfectly possible to be extroverted AND asocial and anti-anti-anti-antisocial. And there you boned a bit.

I'm not making any claims, what I can see is that Error has a certain ease in expressing himself and talking about himself (as long as it doesn't have to do with his problems) and that he's quite talkative. But then, maybe he's something else, intro or ambi, because in his condition of absolute solitude, ANYONE would have an immense need to be with other people.

Besides, don't you think that in his comic, the longer he lives with Swap, the more logical, stable and thoughtful he becomes? It's experience that accumulates. It's the Memory that works. Because with Swap, a friend at last, he can remember what's going on and realise how much time has passed. When he learns to knit with him, when he watches Undernovela with him, when he answers the creator's questions with him, and so on.

It's only after Swap has gone that Error closes in on himself again, letting the Anti-Void devour him once more.

To have a Memory, Error needs to get out of Anti-Void AND have a face, someone he can see fluently to remind him of his past experiences. And who fills that role perfectly in the Fandom, I'll give you three guesses?

Ink.

This is arguably the strongest no-canon relationship in the Undertale Multiverse. His exchanges with Ink, whether it's a confrontation, a tempestuous dialogue or a bullshit funny, all these little interactions help to forge an emotional bond between the two nemeses.

Whether fans develop this into a rivalship, a bromance or a romance, who cares,

EVIDENTLY Ink is very important to him.

EVIDENTLY he sees him, in some twisted way, as a friend.

Because Ink's the ONLY stable, long-term human relationship he has. And the only way to keep that bond is to keep destroying over and over again to get the painter's attention, and maybe even other people's attention. And given that Error's incapable of being healthy with anyone, because he hates himself too much and is too afraid of other people, what better way to show his attachment than with an "I hate you"?

I'm going to use a really stupid reference here, but Error has a bit of a Dory memory. She forgets everything as she goes along, but from the moment she meets Marlin, she forgets less and less. All she has to do is look at his face and she remembers everything they've been through. And afraid he'll abandon her all alone again, because she doesn't want to forget again.

What if that's what Error was afraid of in Underverse, when Ink 'abandons' him to go and play with X-Gaster? What if he's afraid that if he loses him, all his progression he accomplished so far will go up in smoke?

Ink is Error's Memory. It's very ironic.

And the icing on the cake is that Ink has a lot in common with Error: faced with extreme loneliness in a white void, loss of Memory, ignorance of the conscious state of the beings around them... Ink expresses this suffering through a desire to protect, and Error through a desire to destroy (it's superbly explained in THIS comic you'll found just after validated by the creator, I recommend it!) Isn't he the perfect friend? The funny thing is that in Underverse, the roles are 'reversed'. Ink is prepared to destroy everything, while Error is prepared to do anything to save what attention he has left. OK, he destroys the AU's, but he doesn't care about the AU's, he cares about Ink. He had the chance all along to do it, but he waited until the ultimatum. Because his battles with the painter and his status as quô are vital to him. He was pushed to the limit to commit the irreparable.

If that, is not two lunatics walking on a beam, I don't know what is.

I'm extrapolating here, but imagine that the odd island in the middle of the sea had been requisitionee by Error to be his new den precisely because he'd had enough of the Anti-Void and the memory loss it was causing him? Perhaps, having had a truce with Ink, he no longer felt the need to protect himself from him by staying in the Anti-Void (since Ink has a great fear of white spaces, it makes a good lair) and he was able to move in later. After all, the only time we see him in the Anti-Void is when Ink kicked him back in the arse and in the 2nd Xtrascene when he's snoozing. It's as if he's been sleeping off his wine or something, as if he's gone back there in a fit of rage to forget everything again in frustration at seeing Ink having fun without him. Haven't you noticed that the dolls and the footstool he sits in only exist in his dream? And that when he wakes up, he's on the floor with nothing around him? Why didn't he sleep in his footstool? It's as if he's actually moved all his stuff, except his souls, since they're best kept in the Anti-Void by Ink. The footstool isn't on the island in Xtra scene 1, but it is in Comic the Truce, Error moved it. Maybe he really leaved the Anti-Void and is only using it as a repository for souls? All this just to... Stop being mad? Live a more or less normal life? Become aware of who he is and... Simply be?

Very capylotract but I love this theory xD

And I also think that Error doesn't just see Ink as a tool or a means. I think he really thinks the two of them have a special relationship. Because he's romantically inclined, which is suggested by his Sans past, his taste for Outertale and the fact that he watches a rosewater series with a ship where his alternative version and the alternative version of the woman he loved are in a misunderstood and forbidden relationship, because he's afraid but also wants to be loved deep down given that he's incapable of giving himself self-esteem, because he shows intense frustration when Ink doesn't show him that it's mutual...

And because RIVALSHIP! It would be a perfect match for the Joker/Batman relationship in the Lego Batman movie and I think it's HANDSOME!!!! (*shakes fan-girling head)

(I don't know if Jakei will go with what I have developed but whatever she does will still be super awesome, I wouldn't worry about it ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧!)

.

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Ink belongs to @comyet

Underverse belongs to @jakei95

[midgarddaughter]

Witch Princess

Chapter 2

Draco x Y/N Morningstar

Thank you so much for the Support everyone. I hope you guys like the next chapter as well.

Draco Malfoy was many things. Proud, arrogant, confident, mean. But shy was not a word one would use to describe Draco Malfoy. Yet, there he sat. For almost half an hour, too intimidated to speak to the pretty girl across from him. After inviting her into his compartment with a casual "Sure," a tense atmosphere settled in. Draco was struggling to figure out if he knew her from somewhere. She must be his age; then he should have classes with her. But such a beautiful girl would have caught Draco's attention long ago. Was there an exchange program he wasn't aware of?

"I'm Y/N, by the way," her voice pulled him from his thoughts. Oh god, had he been staring at her this whole time? Without saying anything, he just looked at her with his stormy blue eyes. What was he supposed to say? What did she expect? Everyone at school knew him. "And you are?"

Confused, he blinked at her. Was she serious? "Malfoy," he answered curtly.

"Do you have a first name?" she giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Draco," his cheeks grew warm, and was his voice always this husky? He cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Draco Malfoy."

"Pleasure to meet you, Draco Malfoy," she warmly smiled at him. Rarely had he felt so unsure talking to someone. Was it because he was afraid of saying something wrong? Did he not trust his own voice? Could Draco Malfoy embarrass himself?

"It's unusual that you don't know me," his curiosity eventually outweighed his hesitation.

"Really? Are you famous or something?" she looked at him with interest. What should he answer? He was indeed famous, but was he proud of what he was famous for? Yet, her gaze, her curiosity. Draco couldn't help but let a small proud smile form on his lips.

"You could say that," he replied. Suddenly, he found his shoes more interesting than the girl's face.

"I'm new here," Y/N confessed, looking out the window. Draco lifted his gaze, puzzled. "Which school did you attend before?" he asked, getting his confidence back slowly.

"I was homeschooled," Y/N said, looking at him again. "My father thought I should learn family traditions first. So, I studied from home and sent everything to Hogwarts with an owl."

Her cheeks turned red, and she looked at her hands in her lap. Would people consider her a weirdo because of that? Uncertain, she looked up from her hands.

"I can't believe Dumbledore allowed that," Draco mumbled, leaning back casually.

"Oh, it was his idea, actually. Otherwise, my father wouldn't have let me come to Hogwarts at all," she reassured.

"Fathers, huh?" Draco murmured, lost in thought. She frowned but didn't press for more. Eventually, Draco snapped out of his thoughts and focused on her again. "Well, I guess I'll have to show you how things work at Hogwarts."

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Really?"

Draco felt that pull at the corner of his mouth again and couldn't suppress the smile.

"Of course. After all, I'm famous," he winked. Finally, the self-assured and arrogant Draco Malfoy was back.

So, Draco started telling her about Hogwarts—the houses, with Slytherin being the best, the teachers, and the subjects. Y/N, with shining eyes, expressed her excitement about Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Draco, of course, couldn't hide his disdain for those subjects, and he was surprised that the young girl didn't take it personally. Instead, she asked with interest about his favorite subjects.

"Potions, of course," he answered with a grin. "The best teacher at Hogwarts is the Potions Master. Also, my Head of House. It's a demanding subject that requires natural talent."

"As confident as you sound, you must be really good," the blonde girl laughed. Draco noticed his cheeks getting warm again.

"But of course. After all, I'm a Malfoy," he tried to maintain his confident facade.

"So, it runs in the blood, huh?" she smiled mischievously.

"Exactly," he replied, returning the smile and wondering how it felt so natural. He didn't have to be Draco Malfoy with her; she had never heard the name before. However, she didn't seem like a Muggle-born, and the Malfoys had a sixth sense for that. "Do you play Quidditch?" Draco asked after a comfortable silence. She looked at him confused, unsure of how to tell him she had never heard of it. Draco laughed. "I guess you grew up on the moon."

"Maybe," she laughed shyly. Without waiting for her invitation, Draco began telling her about his favorite sport. He didn't mind demonstrating the maneuvers he liked with animated gestures. Sharp turns, free falls, pulling up just before hitting the ground. It was somehow sweet, how enthusiastically he talked about it. Engrossed in his voice, she didn't notice the commotion outside the compartment.

Draco did. With a venomous look that went unnoticed by Y/N, he signaled to his friends to leave him alone. They had searched for Draco when he didn't show up at their usual compartment and were surprised to see him talking to a girl they had never seen before. A knowing grin appeared on Blaise's face before he nodded to Draco, and the others returned to their compartment. Pansy couldn't resist shooting daggers at the girl, but Y/N remained oblivious, too occupied with something Draco was saying.

This continued throughout the train journey until Draco and Y/N put on their robes and arrived shortly after. Draco made sure to help Y/N with her luggage.

"I can't accept that. You need to take care of your own luggage," Y/N politely tried to decline.

"Friends take care of mine," as if Draco Malfoy ever carried his own luggage. He casually took her suitcase from her hands and even attempted to carry the cage covered with a blanket. However, she pulled it closer.

"I-I'll take that, though," she said with a raised eyebrow. "We wouldn't want it to bite you."

"Okay," Draco got onto the self-propelled carriage and lifted the suitcase. Quickly, he turned around, just in time to extend his hand to Y/N. She looked at him with wide green eyes and hesitantly took his hand.

"Thank you," she mumbled shyly as she settled on the bench across from him.

Throughout the entire carriage ride, they remained silent. Y/N noticed that although they were alone in their carriage, there were two or three times as many students in the others within her view. With shiny eyes, she saw Hogwarts for the first time. Draco observed her with a small smile on his lips.

"Thanks for your help," Y/N said to Draco as they reached Hogwarts. "I have to wait for Professor McGonagall now."

"I guess I'll see you inside then," Draco replied, bidding her farewell.

Salazar, hopefully, she'd be sorted into Slytherin, Draco inwardly prayed as he joined his table and was greeted by his friends.

"There he is." Theodore greeted him with a grin. "Who was the girl with you on the train?"

Draco rolled his eyes irritably. This boy had never heard of tact. As Draco walked past him to his usual seat, he bumped into Nott and shot him a stern look.

"That's none of your business," he growled as he settled into his seat.

"Which troll got on your nerves?" Blaise raised an eyebrow at him. "You were in a great mood on the train. Or did she reject you?"

"To be rejected, Draco would first have to be interested in her. Which he's not, right Draco?" Pansy looked at him desperately.

The heir to the Malfoy name ignored the two and impatiently waited for McGonagall. The possibility that Y/N might not be sorted into Slytherin was significant. She was a ray of sunshine. What if she ended up in Hufflepuff or, even worse, Gryffindor? Could he still talk to her normally? Would people think he's crazy? Could he even be mean to her? Why was life as a Malfoy so complicated?

Professor McGonagall didn't keep them waiting, and she entered the Great Hall shortly after Draco, looking around in awe, much like the first-year students. Oh no, that tugging at the corners of his mouth again. A murmur of questioning spread among the students. Why was someone their age here? First-years were sorted first. Y/N's gaze found Draco in the sea of students and was surprised to see that he was already looking at her. That just made her more nervous. When it was finally her turn, she sat on the chair with a pounding heart, biting her lower lip as she listened to the talking hat.

"Oh, royal blood. Your family embodies all the ideals of Hogwarts houses. But where do I put you? Brave, no doubt, you had to prove that at a young age. Also intelligent, yes, yes. Oh, but you can be sharp-tongued too, one should not challenge your pride. But what do I feel? A warm and soft heart. Generous and understanding. Then you belong in... HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat called out, and the yellow table erupted in cheers. Smiling, her first glance, however, was directed at Draco, who looked at her in shock. Why did he look so shocked? She went to her table and from there looked back at her newfound friend. But he sat there with his head down the whole evening, not looking at her, while unrest stirred around her.

[doodledoesthing3]

CHAPTER 3 IS FINALLY HERE🗣️🗣️🗣️

Finished reading the new chapter? Lucky for you, I got some treats for ya!

CHARACTER SHEETS FOR THE NEW CHARACTERS AND CATNAP‼️‼️‼️

CatNap, the used to be sleepy critter. He’s now a leader of new group, the Sun Screamers! He may not look like leadership material but he learned from, what he claims to be, the best leader that he knows.

Meet Harper Barker! Sassy, rude, and serious is how most critters describe her. She’s the Captain of the Ratto Mafia Guards and takes her job very seriously. She refuses to rest until she catches CatNap. She reeks of bleach due to her fur being dyed so much, what’s her real fur color? No one knows but her girlfriend does!

Fun Fact: I inverted one of the Smiling Critters and gave them to Harper. Can you guess who’s inverted color palette I gave her?

Crashing through your door is Topaz! He’ll cheer you up no matter what! This Spiny Mouse always gets himself hurt in the weirdest ways possible, but that doesn’t stop him. Luckily he has his friends to patch him up!

Fun Fact: Topaz was one of the first Sun Screamers that I designed, that’s why his color palette is a bit more unique than the others.

Cold and Serious…. Calico! Some say he lost his eye to a monster, some say that Tony ripped out his eye, but CatNap thinks that he’s just a big softy inside. This orange and white fawn variegated rat will protect his friends no matter the cost.

Fun fact: Calico was going to be named Patches (kinda like a pirate) but I changed my mind and gave the name Patches to the stoner rat at the beginning of Chapter 3!

The Sun Screamers’ number one fashion designer, Diamond! She’s makes new accessories for her friends as her way of bonding with them. This white dumbo rat is known for her huge ears, she’s always wearing different earrings everyday. She cares for her friends deeply and will drop her nice girl act to throw hands with whoever hurts her friends.

Fun Fact: I imagined Diamond with comically large ears at first, but I wasn’t able to draw them so we got somewhat big ears Diamond! She also used to wear so many earrings but I didn’t know how to draw them so any kind of earrings on Diamond is perfectly okay with me.

This scene mouse is Lucy! This Australien long coated mouse is the most shyest girl you’ll ever met. CatNap and the rest of their friends have tried to get her out of shell, but it usually never works. It’s rare to see her yell or be angry in general.

Fun Fact: Lucy was going to be emo, but I changed her to be a scene girl because it fits with the times! (the fanfic takes place in 2005)

Yuck, what’s burning? It’s Ash making a new invention! This cotton mouse tends to have a short temper whenever things don’t go his way. Sometimes his inventions work and sometimes they don’t, he tends to have backup plans upon backup plans for everything.

Fun Fact: When I was designing Ash, he went through so many phases! First, he was brown girl mouse named Goggles. Then he got changed to a boy and his name was changed to Ash. Then he was light grey before I settled on dark grey.

What’s that growing from that ground? It’s everyone’s number one spooky boy, Fungus! He’s one of the oldest children among his many siblings. This brown satin rat is normally busy talking to his dead siblings or learning a new spell, but you’ll see him around the valley’s graveyard most of the time.

Fun Fact: Fungus’ book was going to have a pentagram on it instead but I thought it was an overused idea so I replaced it for the eyes!

Yeesh! I thought we were done, but what’s that bright light? Is it god? No you sillies! It’s one of the angels known Cat-Bee! Always ready to help her friends at the ready, but don’t let her carefree nature fool you! She’ll get protective of her friends if she senses danger. Nonetheless, she’s one of the people that helps keep CatNap sane.

Fun Fact: She was originally going to be disguised as a capybara instead of Ash with another toy angel disguised as a capybara beside her. But I thought that was too many characters for one chapter so you’ll see that other angel in a later chapter.

If you’re up for a puzzle based on this fanfic then check out this puzzle that I made! (Light mode is highly recommended.)

If you’re stuck, there’s a hint in this chapter that can help you complete the puzzle! :)

SEE YA IN CHAPTER 4!