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mandalhoerian · 2 months ago

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sacrosanct | leon kennedy x reader | 1

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pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Leon, a paladin of the temple who became a disillusioned oathbreaker, returns from years of war with a noble title and shattered faith. Once devoted to the Saintess who healed him, Leon's admiration has twisted into repressed desire—feelings he could never express, tainted by guilt and shame. Now a celebrated hero, he’s drawn back not to the kingdom’s praises, but to the chance of one last glimpse of you to move on with his life.

The god he abandoned has other plans for him.

word count: 14K (i am so sorry)

warnings: descriptions of war, suggestive themes, slow burn so it's only sensual for now, religious shame and guilt

disclaimer: this work contains Catholic imagery that is a part of rofan manhwa worldbuilding tropes. "the saintess" trope itself isn't a saint in accordance with Catholic traditions, it's just a character archetype that developed over time in the isekai genre and means more of a "holy maiden chosen by god" and "healer" with "divine powers" protected by the "church" of that specific fictional world. however, i did my best to do my research. this work has nothing to do with Christianity or any other religions and is totally fictional. please keep that in mind as you proceed!

author's note: mandalhoerian goes back to her reader era! please say thank you to @chesue00 for allowing me to use her artwork in this fic, I wrote a whole scene that depicts the art piece which was the whole inspiration for this 3-day frothing at the mouth frenzy!!!!

now, Sacrosanct is a blend of tropes i love in rofan manhwa/webtoon/mangas that are my favorite, so prepare for misunderstandings galore in the future 😭 but leon specifically is inspired by malthus from hilda furacao. which just means yearning and sexual repression. re2!leon to re4!leon pipeline is just the sweet commoner knight to cold duke of the north pipeline in manhwa, and if you understand what that means, im personally sending you a virtual kiss LMAO Happy reading, I hope yall like it!

don't forget this is the first part only.... heh. the template credit

🌀READ ON AO3 !

The first blush of dawn trickles through the gaps in heavy drapes, bathing your chambers in apricot hues. Crisp echoes of rustling silk resonate as you delicately lift the mask from its velvet perch. Bathed in daybreak's golden light, coloured glass chips embedded into the mask shimmer in lost constellations. The caress of velvety smooth fabric against your skin sends shivers dancing down your spine as you tie on, freshly laundered linen smell intertwining with lingering scent of last night’s incense used in nightly prayers, hints of lavender meet smoky frankincense.

Your gaze shifts to the mirror, the mask now concealing your mortal features, intricate filigree swirling across your face in an ethereal web and tiny crystals dotted along the lines sparking like stars. Taking a deep breath to stand a little taller and square your shoulders, you reach up to adjust your veil, ensuring no errant strands of hair are visible. The gauzy fabric falls in diaphanous folds around you, the whispers arising with your every movement the only sounds in the stillness of dawn.

Though the sacred mask and veil hide your earthly form, they cannot conceal the weakness of the human soul in your eyes.

The gateway to your wishes is wide open, one closer look is all one needs to see how you yearn to walk unencumbered through the gardens, to feel the caress of sunlight on your bare skin.

But the edicts are clear - when you leave these chambers, the Saintess must be fully shrouded, an exalted vessel and naught else.

You amble down to the sacred chapel for morning prayers before breaking your fast - a custom enacted in hushed reverence. As you descend stone steps weathered by time, you're swaddled in the scent of smoldering incense permeating from open timber doors, trailing invisible veins into the invigorating morning air. Inside, familiar faces of fellow sisters and brothers offer gentle nods of greeting as you find solace before the altar, sinking onto the cushioned bench tailored specifically for you, in the name of quiet contemplation and prayerful kneeling.

In honor of Ethelion, your one true Lord, silence descends—a pause amplified by its gravitas. Then with an authority that makes everything else seem trivial in comparison, there's the priest: his directing is ripples on still water reaching out towards infinity—sound molded into sacred words known only too well to heart.

The humming drone of faith-soaked chants serves as a welcome breather from the constant ponderings on war and sacrifice that’s been plaguing you for weeks. Those gnawing realities always sneak up and nibble away at your moments of peace, but here in this church, Ethelion’s mercy reigns supreme—the refuge is heard in the choruses belted out emphatically, slicing through any weighty thoughts, their lyrics loftier than any worldly worry.

As the sun stands at its zenith above and sends shards of golden light filtering through the stained glass canvases, the ceremony unwinds. It feels like saying goodbye too soon amidst vibrant echoes of hymns that grip onto ancient brick walls built upon stories spanning centuries, currents of history carrying their inevitable fade. Here, they stand still—if only for a while—pinned by lingering notes lost in air rich with incense burn and oakwood musk coupled with memories tasting of sacramental wine still clinging to tongues.

Stepping into the courtyard, you're swathed in a prism of pastel hues—blossoms unveiling their sugared whispers to the inviting warmth of a lingering breeze. You catch wind of their fragrance; it hooks you, a blend of sweet floral undertones and spring's renewed vigor carrying history within its essence, and you cannot wait to check on your lily garden.

Children dart amongst looming pews, mischief gleaming in their eyes as they engage in hushed games, shards of laughter echoing softly around the otherwise hallowed space. The sight tugs at a wisp of nostalgia, memories when life was simpler, less layered with expectations and daunting futures.

The youngest ones eyeing your departure don't miss a beat. Like mini warriors possessed by unruly spirits, they break rank from the congregation to run after you—a whirlwind of giggles and shouts lacing the air. Their excitement thrums against your skin, buzzing like electricity—an unexpected surge that leaves behind a ghostly imprint.

Yet before they can reach you or even conflict with stone-faced paladins on guard duty, an adult hand restrains them. Respectful bows font towards you as if to acknowledge an unspoken understanding—a solemn line between what is allowed and what isn't negotiated under sacred roofs and watchful gazes.

The breaking of your fast happens solely in the intimacy of your chambers, where you can abandon the weariness of your mask.

Fresh fruits and bread baked by the monks in the kitchens await you on a simple wooden table, their colors vibrant against the muted tones of your chamber. The apples gleam like polished rubies, their skins taut and inviting, while clusters of plump grapes spill over from the plate. The bread, golden and crusty, emits a warm aroma that fills the air with comfort; its texture promises a satisfying chew that will sustain you through the day’s trials.

You pour yourself a glass of tea, steam curling up like ethereal wisps as you set it beside the fruits, its sweetness rendered by generous dollops of honey that transform each sip into liquid amber. As you bite into a slice of bread, the crust crackles under your teeth, giving way to a soft and airy interior that melts on your tongue. It’s simple fare—yet it nourishes not just your body but also stirs echoes of childhood memories spent in the kitchens, where laughter mingled with the scent of baked goods.

The weight of your impending sacred duty hangs over you like storm clouds heavy with rain.

It's not just a responsibility; it's an anchor dragging you into the depths of despair, each step forward to navigate it is like wading through molten lead.

You peer through the frost-kissed window, and the courtyard below unfolds like a battlefield before a decisive clash. Figures clad in armor move with the grace of dancers and the determination of warriors bound for glory or doom. The pieces of gleaming plate mail reflects the pale light, casting fractured rainbows on the cobbled ground.

The gleam of virgin armor, polished to a high sheen, is nothing more than a facade.

It's an ornament, untouched by the brutality of combat—it’s their holy calling that these paladins embrace, not the bloody stain of war. And yet, you sit there on your throne and hesitate to send even one amongst them into the fray for your crown's sake.

How easy would it be to fool yourself into believing that time has frozen, and these young knights in training are simply rehearsing under the guise of some distant uncertainty. But your eyes have skimmed those sealed parchment letters, their inky truths seeping more dread into an already strained air; you're not as naive as all that. The chilling certainty of the Holy War lurks just on the other side of these weathered stone walls—it's only a matter of moments before a gasping messenger dispatches reality like storm clouds breaking open.

Regardless of how fervently you pray or how deep your self-sacrifice runs, it won’t alter this predetermined destiny.

Even as you grip your blessed rosary so tightly it leaves hardened impressions in your palm's soft flesh. Even when unshed tears blur your vision, scalding hot yet stubbornly refusing to fall free, and a knot of shame twists low within your stomach like vile poison—an uncomfortable squirming inside that is almost visceral. Your journey forward leaves much to be desired–mired with dark ambiguities, where faith resembles something more akin to a clumsy blind groping in the vast unknown.

Your heart twinges—a raw ache—at the sight of blond hair all too familiar.

"Leon," escapes in a murmur from between your chapped lips against the icy window pane—the cold seeping into your skin; tiny tendrils numbing any sensation away.

The young paladin has blossomed into a towering figure since his personal guard duty by your side the last month, his frame enveloped in the armor that’s bigger than his still-growing form. The sight of him clad in battle gear is a poignant one, for the metal plates seem to engulf him rather than adorn him. He looks anything but menacing, sweet consideration towards those he’s sparring with, despite clad head-to-toe in battle gear, with such carefree confidence that threatens to split your aching chest.

In a split second, on the other side of that cold glass wall; Leon’s focus latches onto your unveiled and unmasked presence like a sunflower bending towards light.

It's as if you've breathed some forbidden word into the wind - an inaudible gasp tingles the silence and ripples off his lips. He stammers mid-battle stance, frozen under some unseen celestial hammer, scorched into oblivion.

You step back hurriedly, yanking your veil down over your face once more; it's rough underneath your fingertips, but nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. His own stunned gaze falters, tugs itself away as if burned - damn those beautiful eyes! But that moment costs him dearly as his rival lunges and he crumbles under the assault, and your heart won’t stop racing, undeniable fondness with a foreign heat creeping up your neck.

Leon bounces back from the blow almost instantly, staggering back to his feet like it's second nature; like he hasn't just had the wind knocked out of him and seems more rattled than before.

His opponent’s moves are unforgiving, one after another until Leon's guard slips. With a resounding thud that sends shudders up your spine, Leon gets slammed into the dirt floor.

His helmet soars through the air with an eerie ring that echoes around the courtyard, tumbling to rest at the boots of a nearby Paladin whose gaze is stuck on Leon’s prone form - filled with something close to pity but still masked by pride. A comrade extends a roughened hand, helping Leon upright, his comforting pat lingering just a moment too long on his shoulder blade as if unsure whether to leave or stay for strength. Jovially yet sternly, the older knight cuffs Leon on his arm, gauntlet striking armor with a dull clang.

As you retreat from your voyeuristic post at the window when reverberating tolls from the grand temple's bells signal practice time has run its course, there's an adrenaline rush buzzing under your skin even though you were merely watching. The upcoming blessing ceremony casts its shadow over you – all consuming and much larger than life; leaves no space for silly fancies.

Sunset paints the temple grounds in a bronzed hue as Leon treks alone back to the barracks, his mind adrift. Training bruises throb under his armor, though it's the sting of his fractured pride that truly wounds him.

None of it matters in the face of the glimpse of divinity he accidentally caught.

He nearly bends with the weight of it, an abyss of greed that he fears his brothers-in-arms can sense infecting his spirit. It maligns his growth as a paladin; he's sure Ethelion sees the invasive avarice lurking beneath skin and bone, an illicit truth residing within him nipping at him from the inside like a woodworm.

The seed of which had been planted over a decade ago, in these lily gardens, in the healing hands of a young Saintess whose presence and unmasked face lingered in his heart and grew into an infatuation with her holy touch.

He was but a boy back then, brittle and broken in body, his fragile skin stretched thin over bony limbs, rife with illness that stole the color from his cheeks and the air from his lungs. His very life seemed held together by prayers of his parents alone, fluttering like leaves in the wind. He'd stumbled into the garden by accident, chasing a stray cat with his siblings, not realizing he was lost.

Yet fate cast her sanguine smile and Ethelion himself turned an eye on him, sending the Saintess his way.

A warm glow drew him further through the bushes, and there you stood, cloaked in a robe that made your radiance seem as if it were born from moonlight. His eyes should have burned upon landing on you unmasked, youthful face that unmistakably belonged to a human girl of his age and not that of Ethelion in the flesh, but instead, his lungs expanded with an unknowable strength because of the divine power around you, an easiness that made it feel like he was breathing for the first time.

Not met with punishment for such audacity—he was instead gifted healing through your sacred touch–and got left laced with a perpetual yearning, sickness eradicated from his being and infused life onto starved limbs.

A lesson was disclosed to him later on when he’d become aware of himself, about why the Saintess had to be veiled.

His desires knew no end. It was for her spiritual purity that the Saintess could not be seen unmasked or reveal herself to mortals. Could one imagine the consequences of men akin to him lying eyes upon such magnificence, gracing skin intended only for Ethelion's touch? The impressionable child that he was had bloomed into an adult consumed by her divinity, hell-bent on basking in it all life long. Surely kingdoms would fold, as mortals were bound to disrupt natural balance attempting to seize the maiden of god.

So, when you appeared in the tower window today, he was overcome with a sensation so powerful it felt like angelic apparitions traced their wings down his back.

Divine grace embodied, shining forth in ways he couldn't articulate.

An inexplicable need arose from his bones for him to go to you, throw himself down in worship, confess sins one by one and receive penance:

In the hush of many nights when the temple halls were empty, he would wander like a ghost and always come back to kneel at the feet of Ethelion, daring to touch the cushions before the altar where you prayed, his fingers lingering where only your robes should caress. The audacity of his gaze tracing the delicate embroidery of your veil when he stood guard by your side, seeking to unveil something meant solely for Ethelion’s eyes, was but one of his many transgressions against the sanctity that cloaked you…

His form of worship seemed askew, borne more out of desire than devoutness; staining the starkly white fabric of his duty with its off-colour ardour.

He could never allow you, the revered Saintess, to know about this sinful sentiment dwelling within him; tarnishing every sweet memory associated with you.

The fantasy he harbored diminished his image, trendlessly etched as an obedient paladin's plight – but for him, you represented something significantly more profound. To even admit how dreams featuring you bewitchingly bathed in grace tainted his oath of celibacy would risk jeopardizing the hope invested in recognizing his service towards Ethelion.

The desire to earn the highest recognition, a Paladin's title and acceptance of his fealty to protect you as such – got increasingly tangled in a visceral wanting lost somewhere between sacrilege and worship that left a devout hunger echoing within him for your sake.

To satisfy this, he threw himself fiercely into arduous training channels to strengthen both his body and mind with every challenging day that went by - striving ceaselessly with dreams of deserving a place by your side.

Now, he stands precipitously on the verge; holding on desperately to this undisclosed confession – harboring a stolen glance of you from earlier as a secret talisman.

How could he go into the Holy War with his brothers now, knowing he'd seen beneath your veil and… Felt.

“You seem troubled, Sir Leon.”

Leon doesn’t dare turn; a jagged lick of dread splinters down his spine. He recognizes that voice—how could he not when it haunts his dreams night after night? Instead, he stares into nothingness, rooted to the ground, his mind unable to process that you're speaking to him.

But he does turn, finding you standing serenely beneath an archway covered with tangled fragrant vines in the Temple's back garden.

Your presence fills Leon with equal parts awe and unease, as if Ethelion himself is shaming him from above for desiring what should be beyond mortal reach.

Yet your countenance remains unchanged, unmarred by his inner turmoil. The mask stays in place, an extension of your divinity—only now, Leon swears that beneath it, your eyes are smiling at him.

Leon stands within the cool shadow of the ancient temple, its weathered stones holding an age-old embrace that wraps around him like a cloak. The air is thin with the delicate scent of lilies that’s wafting towards him from the garden—from you, and outside, where sunlight filters through the leafy canopy, you stand amidst color. Your garments catch the sunset, casting a shimmer that mirrors the beauty of your surroundings.

The difference between his shadowed presence and your radiant figure is a shaming from above, showing Leon your place in His divine light while he remains shrouded in sin.

The clinking of Leon's loose armor rings as he lowers himself to one knee before you, “Forgive me, Saintess. I did not mean to disturb your meditations.”

The rustle of silk heralded your approach, brushing against the cool stone floor like a gentle breeze stirring a field of wildflowers. He inhales sharply, his breath hitching in his throat as the fragrance of lilies envelops him.

You stop before him, your robes cascading around you like a mirage of opal waves, he is captivated by an urge so primal that it sends a flush of heat to his cheeks and makes his palms sticky; he longs to press his lips to the delicate fabric that seems to breathe with divine grace.

“Please rise, Sir Leon. I saw you training today. Your skills are formidable.”

His pride swelled silent and strong within his chest – a sudden weight that could unbalance him more than any physical blow ever could.

"Your words honor me greatly," he manages to speak to the stones at his feet, even after he is back up at his feet.

"Yet you seem to have much on your mind."

He cannot meet your eyes; it feels overwhelming to face such beauty and concern directed solely at him.

"Pardon me, that was a silly question, wasn't it? Of course you have much on your mind. You're about to ride into battle. Such thoughts are not easy to bear. Do you wish to talk about it?"

"It's not my place to trouble you with such things, Saintess. They will soon be far from here, and you will be safe in the Temple.”

He glances at you, and the look in your eyes is enough to make him forget how to breathe. It’s a blend of curiosity and tenderness; an innocence that nearly pierces through his mask and grazes the wicked depths of his heart.

You tilt your head, much like a bird contemplating a worm, and gently ask, "Would you indulge my curiosity and share one worry with me?"

It's an impossibly generous gesture, for you to extend this small piece of yourself to him in the middle of your meditations. Leon's teeth ache at the sweetness of it, at your kindness that extends even to him.

“I’m doubting my worthiness to serve,” he confesses unceremoniously. “I train relentlessly, but I lack the innate spark my brothers were born with. It's as if... as if I'm play-acting at being a Paladin.”

Those aren't the only doubts that torment him—but the ones he can actually say out loud without burning at the stake for.

"Do you remember the day we met, Sir Leon?" you begin, clasping your hands and turning around to face the gardens, the gentle breeze is making your veil flutter.

Leon nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Even so many years later, the memory still has the power to stir his soul, churning something in his chest that makes it hard to think straight.

"It seems like it was yesterday that a young boy came stumbling into the garden, barely able to stand up, and looked me dead in the face. What do you think I saw in him?"

He always assumed the Saintess would have forgotten such a brief encounter, yet it was etched firmly into his memory and to hear it spoken aloud has his pulse miss a couple beats.

"Do you think I saw weakness as he lay gasping in the dirt? Or did I perhaps see an innocent curiosity that was easily swept up by the cruelty of this world and tamed into obedience? Or maybe I saw something else entirely.”

He shakes his head, trying to make sense of your words. It sounds like you're making a statement, but it's not clear which part you agree with.

"Tell me, Sir Leon. What is a spark? Does it come to life, or can it be nurtured from the smallest ember of resolve?" you whisper, fingers trembling as they ascend, tracing a path as delicate as a petal's fall, nearing his cheek with hesitant affection.

He’s paralyzed when your touch indeed lands instead of drifting away.

Your fingers linger, tracing the curve of his jawline with such gentleness, demure and awkward; and the pressure of it makes his skin sing, sparks dancing along every inch.

It's barely a caress, but he feels it in his bones—this ache—that swells and burns, a fire set alight inside his chest that’s on the precipice of consuming him whole.

A whole-body shiver breaks free, but you remain unfazed—your hand is still there, stroking his flesh with such tenderness; soft against the corner of his jaw.

"One is not born to greatness, one achieves it." You're calm, yet firm, a voice that commands respect. He's reminded of the many times he heard you deliver blessings on high ceremonies. There's something about the cadence of your words that pulls at the strings of his soul, drawing him in closer—deeper. "What truly matters is the conviction behind your actions. And, Sir Leon, you may not see it yet. But there's a spark inside your chest that burns brighter than any candle. Don't let anyone dampen it, for it shall shine a path forward unto others and bring glory to our land."

You pull away, leaving a void in your wake. Leon finds himself wanting to reach after you, wanting nothing more than for your skin to keep pressing against his, for your warmth to bleed through his own and ease the burden that's crushing him.

He wants to kiss those fingers that have—

Red hot shame enough to set firewoods aflame shoots straight to settle on his cheeks, flushing them as a wicked feeling sinks in his stomach, a heavy sinking pit. The meaning of your words resounds in his heart like a thunderclap after the lightning that was your touch, your holy words washing over him like a balm—or a warning.

He's brought back to reality abruptly with the harsh cackle of metal against stone as a group of paladins walk by and salute him and bow for the Saintess, pulling him out of a daze as he greets them. Their voices seem distant, faces a blur. It's a miracle Leon manages a nod at them in acknowledgment.

He finds his tongue eventually, his face still aflame with embarrassment at the realization of being in front of the Saintess, an idol of the Church, a woman he thinks of during his late-night ruminations, and still feels guilty for.

"T-thank you, Saintess,” his voice wavers, trembling even with those two simple words that leave him shaking, stirred to the core as if a sudden storm just swept him away to sea, and you are the shore he longs to return to. He fears he might drown in the depths of those beautiful eyes, pulled under by the current.

"It is I who should be thanking you, Sir Leon. You're risking everything to ensure peace for our realm."

Your words wrap around him like a hug, holding him in place while also offering a moment of comfort, like coming home from a long trip away. He treasures those precious few seconds, committing them to memory. But you are a Saintess, not a fellow knight, and there are no hugs or handshakes in his world.

"I'll see you in the ceremony," you continue, before leaving Leon with his heaving chest and a pressure knotting deep in his stomach, walking back to the serenity of the Temple, robes fluttering around your feet like snow settling over frozen earth.

Once you have disappeared into the confines of the temple, he lets out a deep breath. His heart is still beating wildly; the memory of your fingertips brushing his skin is seared into his flesh, an indelible mark that cannot be scrubbed away. He is unable to shake the feeling that he has committed some unspeakable sin; his body a living, breathing violation of his vows.

Leon washes himself in the barracks' bathing chambers, and as he stares at the naked flesh beneath steaming water, his thoughts turn to the ritual that awaits him. In the heat and sweat of it, he wonders if you can wash him clean, baptize his tainted heart.

His sweat trickles down his back, leaving shimmering beads of perspiration in its wake, he can feel each droplet sliding down like a ghostly caress overheated skin glistening under the light of flickering candles; his head is thrown back, and wet hair is slicked away from his face as he reclines in the wooden bathtub. He reaches up to trace the lines of his jaw with trembling fingers that hover just above his skin, remembering what it felt like to have your touch there. He closes his eyes and lets the steam envelop him; he feels the heaviness in his groin, thick and full between his thighs.

In this moment, he is alone with his guilt and shame; but underneath all that self-recrimination there lies a deeper emotion he dares not acknowledge: hope.

The blessing ceremony unfolds with the break of dawn the next day.

Rows of paladins stand at attention, forming a formidable barrier outside the towering chapel. You make your way up the marble steps, flanked by your retinue, and lift your veiled face to behold the regimented paladins before you. Their armor catches the sunlight in a dazzling display, swords resting peacefully in their scabbards. Every single one of them is an anonymous guardian, faces obscured by identical helmets and billowing white capes adorned with a shimmering blue starburst emblem emblazoned on their chest plates.

Upon reaching the summit of the staircase, the massive oak doors swing wide open, revealing an expanse filled with devout worshippers immersed in fervent prayer. Bathed in hues of multicolored light filtering through intricate stained-glass windows, their worshiping forms kneel upon the cool marble floor. Sunbeams caress their bowed heads like a halo, creating a mosaic of ethereal radiance that plays upon their serene features.

The hush that descends as you cross the threshold is whispered benedictions through the hall, enshrouding all present in a solemn embrace as you draw nearer to the altar at its heart.

At the altar stands the head priest, garbed in ceremonial robes—the deep hues of white and gold intertwining with ancient symbols. His palms are raised towards the statue of Ethelion, supplication etched into every line of his face. Before him sits an empty altar table covered in rich crimson velvet trimmed with gold brocade, and at its center rests a silver bowl filled with holy water, reflecting shards of light like fragments of a broken mirror.

Beside the basin stands a golden chalice and a sharp blade gleaming ominously.

You sink into a curtsy before the priest—your knees grazing the cool stone floor—as he intones your full title: "I salute the Beloved of Ethelion, Avatar of Eternity and Renewal,” before he gently beckons you to rise.

Taking your place before the altar, you feel the weight of an entire kingdom resting upon your shoulders. This ritual isn't mere superstition; it's a tangible link between mortal and divine—a celestial promise that Ethelia is indeed favored by the gods.

Yet beneath this grandeur lies urgency cloaked in ceremony: you're chosen by Ethelion to channel his blessing—a gift that comes with strings attached. It promises good health and protection from injury but depletes as quickly as candles flicker out in gusty winds.

You've done this countless times, yet it never becomes easier. You can only hope that the god residing within you answers earnestly today—gracing the paladins with divine strength and healing their wounds as you pour every ounce of yourself into them.

A hushed silence envelops the chamber as the priest lifts up the basin and blesses its water. He then raises it above your head, pouring its contents slowly over your body. The liquid cascades down your shoulders like molten gold—cool initially but warming as it mingles with your skin—and pools at your feet like melted sunlight. It seeps into the hem of your flowing robe which now shimmers like saffron touched by daylight's first rays.

The priest murmurs prayers of consecration while taking up the gleaming blade from beside chalice's stem. Gesturing for everyone gathered to join hands, he swiftly cuts into your wrist without warning—precise and unyielding. Blood oozes forth; dark as ink with whiffs reminiscent faint iron scent permeating air around tendrils curling upward almost ethereal fashion dripping fingers’ tips.

"May Ethelion guide thy swords on this path forward!" you invoke in a solemn tone. The words carry an authority that rings throughout the entire Temple, sending vibrations through the gathered crowd as they repeat your verse.

With a sharp exhale, you approach the priest and rest your open wound over the golden goblet, watching your blood drip into the vessel, drop by painstaking drop. All the while, the attendees recite their blessings in a swelling crescendo, their voices echoing back from the domed roof like an urgent prayer caught between earth and sky.

Your arm throbs incessantly—a dull ache blossoming into searing pain, but you press on, undeterred. Despite how difficult it becomes, there's solace in sharing this burden with others, knowing that they too have a part to play.

Finally, when enough blood has been collected, the priest holds the chalice high and exclaims, "For the kingdom! For Ethelion!"

On command, the paladins march forward with military precision, lining up in single file before the altar, the line extending out of the doors. With measured steps, they kneel in succession, resting their forearms atop the surface in a gesture of humility. You are handed the holy sword, its blade shimmering beneath the lights, its hilt ornately decorated with rubies and diamonds.

Placing your bleeding wrist atop the hilt's cool metal surface, you hold it above the first kneeling paladin's helmeted head. Slowly and carefully, you dip your finger into the cup of crimson liquid and anoint him with your blood by marking his crested forehead—a tangible sign of his sworn loyalty. Whispering a blessing so only he can hear it feels almost intimate—the sword becoming a conduit for divine power. The tip of the blade descends upon his crown; his shoulders instantly stiffen under this sacred touch—they tremble when it grazes one shoulder then moves to deliver an ethereal blow to the other.

The process repeats itself, endless and exhausting, as you move down the line.

Each anointment saps more of your energy reserves until you're left weak and nearly hollowed out from within. Yet pouring every bit of life force into each paladin so they may be shielded on battlefields ahead brings bittersweet satisfaction mixed with aching relief—you find strength anew just enough to persevere.

By the time you reach the end of the rows, your skin feels as paper-thin as the gauzy fabric covering your body. The edges of your vision have started to blur, and it takes considerable effort to stay upright, gripping the edge of the altar to steady yourself. Your heart is fluttering beneath your ribs like a frantic bird, wanting to burst free from its cage of bone and muscle and escape this agony. Your palms are clammy; you're sweating profusely beneath your robes, but despite this, you must see this rite through till its completion.

The ancient wooden door of the chapel creaks open, its mournful groan deafening in the silent night. A thin beam of moonlight slices through the gap, illuminating the dusty air. Inside, flickering candle flames cast warm, trembling light on Ethelion’s marble statue, which gazes down at you with unblinking, expressionless eyes.

You place your mask at the base of His effigy; unveiling yourself like this is a crucial part of the ritual—a moment of communion with the deity. You stand exposed before Him in every way—physically, spiritually, and emotionally. He serves as a mirror reflecting your deepest essence—a piece of you laid bare without fear or shame. Hiding from Him would be like refusing to acknowledge your own existence.

Summoning all your bravery, you remove the fragile veil that acts as your last shield against the world’s curious eyes, letting it rest gently next to your discarded mask. With both face and hair now revealed, you kneel before His statue. Your head bows low in penance, hands squeezed together in a gesture of deep devotion.

"Blessed Ethelion, forgive your servant," you plead with a tremor. "I have doubt in my heart. I'm afraid."

The statue remains silent; only overpowering stillness fills the air as seconds stretch into eternity. Then warmth radiates through you—starting from your chest and unfurling into your limbs—like sunshine poured into your veins, igniting every fiber with radiant energy.

"I don’t want any of them to die," you confess quietly, tears spilling free to splash against the cold flagstone floor. "They’re innocents caught in a war not their own."

There are no words in response, yet you feel an undeniable answer; Ethelion’s reassuring presence envelops you like a warm embrace. He is there to listen to you in silence.

This ritual is a moment of weakness—where fear manifests openly for release. These men are about to step into hell itself beyond the walls. Though they fight for honor and glory, deep down you know it will become a bloodbath—a massacre that will rend this kingdom apart.

"There's nothing sacred about this; yet here I stand sentencing Your children to death," you lament as tears trickle down your cheeks, mingling salty bitterness against trembling lips. No further sign comes; Ethelion appears content merely to observe from His heavenly perch—perhaps reminding you gently of your divine duty—the role He has ordained for you. "I beg forgiveness, O Lord. I could not change the minds blinded by ignorance. My heart bleeds for those suffering because of this conflict. Please protect them so they may come back to bask once more in Your radiant light."

You bow deeply before Him; rising again is a struggle as your knees quake beneath you.

"Saintess."

You jump at the familiar voice that slices through the sanctity of silence, eyes widening in recognition and trepidation.

This is the third time Leon has witnessed you this vulnerable without the holy artifacts shielding the flesh beneath, yet he remains unassuming and gentle; shock absent from his spirit this time. He stands close behind you in this hallowed space belonging solely to Ethelion's infinite wisdom, and you dare not breathe—afraid of shattering this ethereal moment.

"Avert your eyes, Sir Leon.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, standing erect. You remain there unmoving, save for the tiny droplets of sweat gathering on your hairline as he moves with the grace of a shadow, his steps measured and deliberate, until he stands by your side, his eyes unwaveringly fixed upon the towering statue of Ethelion that looms before you both, as if seeking solace in the stone divinity rather against the evil of your human form.

He drops down onto both knees, bowing so low that his forehead nearly kisses the cold stone floor.

A subtle movement draws your attention, and you steal a glance from beneath your lashes. The moonlight caresses strands of golden hair and spins them into threads of silver. His attire deviates from the usual paladin's armor; instead, he wears a simple cotton shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, veiny forearms sculpted by hard practice. The fabric clings to his form, hinting at the sinewy strength that lies beneath. Riding breeches embrace his legs snugly, tucked into worn boots that have weathered countless journeys.

The collar of his shirt is notched open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the base of his throat and the expanse of his upper chest. Your gaze traces the contours of muscle defined beneath the sheer material, and traitorously ventures lower, lingering on the curve of his bent knees before daring to explore further down to where his knuckles rest—taut and unyielding atop thighs etched with power. It leaves your mouth dry.

The intensity with which he shuts his eyes mirrors that boy from years past—the one who clenched his fists tightly against pain, refusing to cry as he battled an illness that should have claimed his life but didn't.

You yield to an impulse, enveloping him in the ethereal embrace of your veil, a shield against the world's gaze and your own. His body tenses beneath the delicate fabric as you glide it over his features, a soft gasp escaping from deep within him. With a trembling exhale, he quivers imperceptibly, fingers pressing into the cloth with a fervor that leaves faint dents on his skin, hands strained from the intensity.

"Open your eyes," you murmur tenderly, reluctant to disrupt the fragile moment.

Gleaming blue flickers into view through the white, translucent shroud, their clarity distorted by the gossamer material. You observe his swallow, the rhythmic rise and fall of his Adam's apple as he tentatively reaches to draw it down over his face.

Through the veil's prism, you must appear as a kaleidoscope of hues and forms to him; a phantom of your true essence, an elusive apparition hovering at the edge of reality.

"The… The blessing went well today," Leon sputters, cracking at the end like glass under pressure.

"Why did you come here, Sir Leon?" you ask gently, sensing that beneath his stiff formality lies a multitude of untold emotions.

"Are you alright?" The genuine concern for your person sends shivers cascading over your skin; fine hairs on your arms lift as he touches his wrist—mirroring right where your blood had been drawn. "Does it hurt every time the blessing is performed? I've never watched it before. It's..."

He falters, mouth opening and closing, and you notice how the fractured light from the windows bathes the swell of his cheeks in a tender luminescence. His words hang between you both, delicate strands of silk trying to knit themselves into coherence.

"It's awful, Saintess. To see your suffering laid bare before everyone."

"I would drain my whole body if it meant those brave men will go out knowing they are protected," you say with resolute calmness, though deep down, you're curious about how he truly perceives you now.

A barely audible "I know," escapes him. It feels like a confession—an unpleasant truth he doesn’t like being faced with. Whatever it holds makes warmth surge through you, igniting your skin and causing another involuntary shiver as he moistens his lower lip with a slow sweep of his tongue. "I know."

"Don't worry about me, Sir Leon. Your job is out there defending these lands, while mine is to ease your burdens. Think only of protecting those who need your shield.”

“Is it wrong to care for those I serve?” His wholehearted question tightens something within you—stirs an undefined yet potent emotion ready to bloom.

"Not at all," you reply almost breathlessly as he gazes intently at the curve of your jawline—your face blurred but memorized by him with stunning accuracy. "Remember whom your sword serves; we live only to honor Ethelion."

"I wish the world were different," his words seem hollowed out, lacking meaning, and yet there's an unmistakable conviction there, a resolve that drives him.

"As do I."

You glide your fingertips over the altar's slick surface, taking in a deep breath that fills your lungs fully with the sanctity of this space.

Then he straightens up suddenly; determination shines in his posture. He doesn’t rise from his kneeling position, yet it frightens you in the same way it would if he had shot up to stand.

"If you'll allow it, Saintess," he says, venerating, and the delicate fabric of his veil brushes against the embroidered sleeve of your robe. That fleeting contact sends a jolt through you, reverberating like a soft, whispered promise. His simple gesture, his proximity—it shouldn’t mean anything. But you feel he might as well have taken your hand in his. "I would pledge an oath to you as well."

There’s a deliberate slowness in how he pulls back, the motion of a man lingering at a threshold he has no right to cross.

Your chest tightens, your breath coming slower as you try to compose yourself. “Of course, Sir Leon,” you manage, though the stillness between you is filled with your uncertainty. What if you're not worthy of his devotion? Of his sacrifice? If he saw what lay beneath the veil, beyond the role of saintess, would he still look at you this way? Or would he recoil, realizing the truth of what you are: flesh and blood, no more divine than the earth beneath your feet?

You feel his stare. It’s as though they’re tracing the length of your body, reaching you through the barrier of the veil, and somehow, that makes the sensation more intimate than if he were standing before you fully revealed.

His breath catches, just slightly. You hear it, feel it, even though the veil between you muffles the sound. "It’s not about whether you’ll accept it," he continues, and there’s a shift in his stance. You can’t see his face, but the way he holds himself, the slight movement of his shoulders beneath the fabric, tells you that he’s grounding himself. "I give this vow because it is mine to give. For you, not for recognition or reward. It’s my choice, my will. No one needs to know."

His spine is ramrod straight now, but there’s a softness in his words, a slight tilt of his head as his eyes search yours. “My loyalty belongs to you alone.”

You swallow hard, the meaning of his words sinking deep into your soul. A lowly servant of Ethelion, that’s all you are. A vessel. No name, no family, no identity beyond the veil. His words... they speak of individual loyalty, devotion to you, not to Ethelion, not to the divine purpose you embody. You are no one. You have no right to such things. How could you take from him what rightly belongs to the god you serve? Wouldn’t you be struck down for such hubris? For leading a paladin astray, pulling him from the only true master he should follow? You tremble at the thought.

"Sir Leon, I cannot accept this." Your fingers curl around the skirt of your robe, the fabric twisting beneath your grip. “It’s—”

His chin lifts, eyes steady on you. "—wrong?"

You start at his interruption. Your voice sounds so feeble as you finish the sentence with a meek, "Yes."

He stays rooted, motionless, but something in the atmosphere shifts again. His breathing, though controlled, seems deeper, and you sense the quiet resolve in the silence that stretches between you.

"Then let me be the one who wrongs Ethelion." His tone carries a weight that presses against you, not through sound but through the way his body holds firm, unwavering. His movements are subtle, restrained, yet the soft brush of his hand grazing his side signals something deeper, a release of tension. "I pledge myself to you, Saintess. To your will, your desires. You are my strength."

The air feels dense, thick with the weight of what he’s offering.

These words flow from him like water spilling over stones, filling up spaces where it couldn't previously reach. The warmth in your chest expands, spreading outward until it seeps into every fiber of your being. Your fingers twitch, the edge of your sleeve twisting between them as you try to ground yourself.

"Please grant me a token of your favor."

Your hands tremble at your sides, your pulse quickening as you fidget with the fabric between your fingers.

What can you possibly offer him?

You glance down, but everything feels out of reach, the world reduced to this one moment.

"But I..." you begin, unsure, your fingers tugging nervously at your sleeve, "I am not a Lady."

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches, and though you can’t see his expression, it feels charged. He shifts ever so slightly, enough that you catch the faint rustle of fabric as he moves.

"All the more reason," he says, a shy smile in his words. "An unworthy paladin asking for a favor from the Saintess—what could be more fitting?"

"Then you may pick whichever object from the temple you desire—"

"I want something of yours, not an icon, nor some relic," he replies immediately, cutting you short, the butteriness sending shivers running down your back. "What do I lack that you have plenty of, that you won't miss, even if it's just a small trinket?"

Your heart stumbles in your chest, the weight of his request crashing into you like a wave. Real? What could you give him? What is yours to offer?

"A lock of hair?" you whisper, feeling your pulse quicken as you say it. The words feel small, vulnerable, but they tumble out before you can stop them. "Would that… suffice?"

Silence follows, his breathing seems to stop.

A lock of hair would belong to you, not the Saintess. A proof of your worldliness, beyond the connection to Ethelion's divine essence. Something that is of the girl and not the holy maiden. Is that what he seeks?

"Your hair," he breathes out in an exhale, as if tasting the words. He appears completely entranced and you become conscious of yourself, the inappropriate nature of just what you brought up.

You draw a slow, shaky breath, the idea settling uneasily in your chest. There’s something intensely personal, too intimate about the exchange. "No, you misunderstand—"

"Your hair, Saintess," he repeats it again, this time more forceful than you've ever seen him; you'd never dare refuse this request and it steals your breath, silencing every protest rising in your throat. "I will accept no less."

Leon rises to his feet, dwarfing you with his broad frame. For the very first time, in Ethelion's presence, you feel small and helpless, like a child who's wandered into his garden. There's something overwhelmingly disarming about sharing this space with him. A foreign sensation blooms within you— a spark that threatens to ignite your world into flames—but you dare not give it voice.

Leon had once worn his armor with pride, each plate fastened like a second skin, the weight of his sword as natural as the rhythm of his heartbeat. Every step forward felt as if he marched hand in hand with something divine, a force greater than himself guiding his every move. The blessing of the saintess had lingered on his skin, a quiet touch that had etched itself into his soul, fortifying his resolve. He had believed, back then, that he was a vessel of the god’s will.

That was years ago.

Now, standing at the edge of the battlefield, the familiar weight of his armor feels heavier, pressing down like an unbearable burden. The bitter taste of dried sweat clings to his lips, and a dull ache pulses beneath his ribs where his armor had done little to stop the last blow. The sun glares down on the blood-soaked earth, the cries of the wounded melding with the clash of steel and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

This was not what he envisioned. There was nothing divine here.

A shout rises above the noise, sharp and commanding, drawing his gaze toward the horizon. The enemy soldiers draped in black, surge over the hill like a wave of shadow. His grip tightens around his sword, the hilt slick with a mixture of blood and sweat, fingers straining against the leather-bound grip.

“Leon!” A voice, rough and worn from years of battle, cuts through the din. Leon turns, his eyes locking onto Captain Krauser, a veteran whose gaze is as sharp as a hawk’s. His expression is hard, impatient. “Orders from the Temple: we flank their left side!”

Leon’s heart clenches at the mention of the Temple.

It had been a long time since the orders felt pure, righteous. The Church’s demands had grown more questionable with each passing day. What had once been a campaign to protect the kingdom and its people now reeked of ambition—land grabs disguised as divine conquest. Territories seized, villages razed under the pretense of holy duty.

But Leon doesn’t question. He never has. He is a soldier, a paladin. A servant of Ethelion.

The memory of you—serene, always hidden beneath the mask you wore as the Saintess—surfaces in his mind, unbidden, his anchor to the divine, the blessing you placed on him sacred. You believed in him, blessed him with your blood, and for that, he would fight. For that, he would fulfill his duty.

He moves after Krauser, silent as a ghost, maneuvering through the throng of soldiers until they reach the flank. The enemy’s forces are spread thin, their attempt to push the kingdom’s army back leaving them exposed. It should be an easy victory. A victory that would tighten their grip on the region, crush the enemy’s morale.

The order comes swiftly, brutal and final: Leave no one alive.

Leon hesitates, his sword held in a grip that tightens until his knuckles ache. Leave no one alive. The same command they’d been given in the last village. And the one before that. What once felt justifiable—crushing the enemy for the kingdom’s safety—now sits like lead in his bones.

Those they slaughtered hadn’t been soldiers. They were farmers, villagers. Innocents. Women and children.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and the memory of the last village rises unbidden, a flash behind his eyelids. He can still smell the smoke, hear the anguished cries of mothers shielding their children. His punishment for hesitating, for not cutting through them as he did the soldiers, feels lighter than the weight of that memory.

“Are you deaf, shiny?” Krauser says with a low growl, dragging him back to the present. “I said move.”

Leon’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck pulling taut. His body moves automatically, his sword rising as he steps forward, following the rest of the paladins into the fray. Steel clashes with steel, bodies crash against one another, but the noise fades, swallowed by the gnawing doubt lodged deep in his chest. He strikes down another soldier, their blood splattering across his already stained armor, but the pit in his stomach only deepens.

He had been blessed to protect the kingdom, to serve the saintess. How did it come to this? When did righteousness turn into this—bloodlust veiled by holy orders?

Each swing of his sword feels heavier, as though the weight of every soul he cuts down drags him closer to the earth. He fells another enemy, watching as the light drains from their eyes, but it’s not just the life that drains from them—it’s something in him too.

This war, it’s nothing like he’d imagined. In the temple, they had spoken of glory, of righteousness, of battles fought in the name of Ethelion. His fellow soldiers had whispered about the honor of dying for the Temple, the promise of eternal life in the afterworld. They had made war sound like a divine calling, a sacred rite of passage where every death was sanctified, every act of violence blessed.

Out here, there is no glory.

Only blood.

The blood of his brothers, mingled with the enemy’s, staining the dirt beneath their feet. The screams of dying men linger in his ears long after the fighting stops. He’s seen cities burn, watched women and children scramble through the streets, faces twisted in terror, only to fall under a volley of arrows or be trampled beneath the horses of his comrades.

Leon had thought he could stomach it. He’d steeled himself for the brutal reality of war. But nothing prepared him for the guilt, the crushing weight of it, as each atrocity committed in Ethelion’s name piles higher on his soul.

At first, he’d believed the bloodshed was necessary, part of the divine plan. But with every passing day, that belief crumbles a little more, cracking like fragile glass.

Now, standing over the bodies of men who’d once fought to protect their own, Leon can barely remember why he’s here. He can’t recall the saintess’s face anymore—only a faint echo of your eyes, the memory fading like a forgotten dream.

How did the lines blur so completely?

He tightens his grip on his sword, but the weight of it feels foreign, like a weapon forged for someone else.

Facing the fire, Leon watches the flames dance, their orange glow casting restless light over the camp. The logs hiss and crackle as they blacken, edges curling inward with each passing flicker. Every so often, flares shoot out from the heart of the fire, sending sparks spiraling up into the night before falling back down into the pyre. Heat washes over his face, warm yet uncomfortable, the kind that burns if stared at for too long. Leon turns away, unable to face his own reflection in the fire’s glow.

Around him, shadows shift across the ground as torchlight flickers over tents and hastily constructed barriers. Laughter rises from nearby campfires, men gathered in groups, boasting about their conquests in battle, their stories of women left behind growing hazy with time. The smell of roasting meat mingles with the sharp bite of smoke as soldiers cheerfully drink from their ale rations. Some play cards or dice, animated, full of hope for victories yet to come. Others simply bask in the temporary lull, telling tales of their glory to fill the silence.

Leon keeps his distance, seeking refuge near a cluster of trees where the light barely reaches, and the noise fades to a murmur. His back rests against a sturdy trunk, sword and shield propped beside him, the armor around him a forgotten weight. He has no desire to join in the revelry. Solitude feels more fitting—more honest. He closes his eyes, trying to relish the brief respite, though the chance of true rest feels distant, as elusive as peace itself.

"If you don’t eat, you’ll lose your strength." A gruff scoff breaks the silence, drawing Leon from his thoughts. He glances sideways to find Captain Krauser standing above him, holding out a steaming bowl of stew. The smell of the meat, thick with gravy, rises into the cool night air, but Leon’s stomach churns at the sight of it.

"Captain Krauser," Leon mutters, accepting the bowl out of obligation more than hunger, balancing it on one knee. "Didn’t feel like celebrating with the others."

Krauser doesn’t move. He stands there, arms crossed, his bulk casting a shadow that blocks the faint moonlight. His scarred face is half-illuminated by the fire’s glow, the deep lines etched into his skin more pronounced in the flickering light.

Leon stirs the stew absently, blowing on it before taking a small bite. It’s warm, but tasteless. Each mouthful feels like ash, though he forces himself to swallow.

Krauser lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. He lowers himself to the ground beside Leon with a heavy sigh, the earth shifting beneath his weight. "Is that guilt weighing you down, shiny?" His voice is rough, edged with a mockery that barely conceals his weariness. "Because that’s a damn waste of time."

Shiny. The word used to grate on Leon—an insult for paladins whose armor hasn’t yet been sullied by enough blood and battle. His once-polished metal has long since dulled, but the name lingers. Now, he doesn’t care what anyone calls him. It’s just another word.

"Just a bad feeling," Leon replies with a shrug, forcing another spoonful down. The broth is bland, lukewarm at best, but he eats slowly anyway, chewing as if it will somehow ground him in the present.

Krauser grunts, his large frame shifting uncomfortably as he leans back against the tree. "You’re learning." He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly as he glances toward the distant glow of campfires. "New orders came in. We move south at first light to intercept a convoy carrying supplies."

Leon keeps eating, though his grip tightens slightly on the spoon. He waits. There’s always more.

"Intelligence says there may be hostages," Krauser adds, his voice turning grim. Leon notices how the lines around his eyes seem deeper, more etched than before. There’s exhaustion in them, though it’s well hidden behind his hardened exterior. "Our task is to eliminate the threat to the kingdom."

"Kill the hostages?" Leon’s response is flat, more a statement than a question.

A heavy silence falls between them, stretching like a weight neither of them wants to bear. The fire crackles on, sending occasional sparks into the air, while the distant hum of soldiers' voices fades into the background. The smell of burning wood fills the space between them, thick and stifling.

Krauser doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw clenches, the scar on his face pulling tight as he looks ahead, not meeting Leon’s gaze. "You know the orders," he says finally, the words dropping like stones into the quiet. "We do what we’re told."

Leon lowers the spoon, the taste of the stew forgotten as his stomach twists. He’s not surprised, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. He stares into the fire again, watching as the flames curl around the blackened logs, reducing them to nothing but ash.

The sword feels heavier today.

Leon rides ahead of the troops, the rhythmic clop of horseshoes striking the stone path echoing across the endless stretch of open land before him. The morning sun climbs lazily in the sky, casting pale light that stretches the shadows of soldiers and horses over fields soon to be stained with blood.

His breath puffs in the crisp air, small clouds that vanish as quickly as they form. His fingers tighten around the sword’s hilt, knuckles whitening under the strain, even though there’s no immediate need to wield it. Sweat runs in a thin line down his spine, sticking his shirt to his skin beneath the armor.

Behind him, the sounds of the army in preparation are a constant hum—swords being drawn from scabbards, armor buckled into place, horses snorting in nervous agitation. Soldiers march in disciplined ranks, though their faces carry the tension of men too aware of what’s to come. Some are barely more than boys, fresh to the battlefield, eyes wide with fear they think they can hide. The village lies beyond the next ridge, nestled in the hills. The command had been clear: leave none alive.

Leon shifts uncomfortably in the saddle. His throat tightens with the weight of it, as if each breath is a struggle to swallow the bitter taste of what they’re about to do. He glances to the soldiers beside him, seeing faces too young, too eager to kill or die, all in the name of a god who remains as distant as the stars.

There was a time when Ethelion’s will felt as close as his own heartbeat. When the saintess’s blessings had filled him with purpose, your touch a reminder of the grace he fought to protect. What would you think of him now? Would you still offer him your blessing, knowing the blood that stains his hands? The lives he’s taken, the innocents who died beneath his blade?

As they near the village, Leon pulls back on the reins, slowing his horse. The captain riding beside him narrows his gaze, a sharp glance cast his way, but Leon doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Captain,” Leon’s voice comes out rougher than intended. “What if we’re wrong?”

The captain scoffs, not even turning his head. “Wrong? These people are traitors. They must be dealt with.”

Leon’s grip tightens around the reins, the leather biting into his palms. “But we have no proof. No confirmation that they’ve—”

“There is no what if, shiny,” the captain cuts him off, his tone as cold and unyielding as iron. “Our orders are clear. Or have you forgotten your place?”

Leon swallows hard, his throat dry. His place. To serve, to obey, to carry out the will of Ethelion without question.

But his place has never felt so wrong.

They crest the final hill, the village coming into view below. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, the scent of cooking fires carried on the wind. From a distance, it looks serene. Peaceful. The villagers go about their day, unaware of the army bearing down on them, unaware that in moments, their world will be torn apart.

Leon’s stomach churns. His horse shifts beneath him, sensing his unease, and he forces a slow breath, trying to calm the storm of doubt swirling inside him. His brothers-in-arms march forward, steady and resolute, their swords ready, their minds set on the task ahead.

But Leon’s horse won’t move. It stands rooted, mirroring the weight in his soul.

The captain urges his own horse forward, barking orders to the soldiers to fan out and surround the village. Leon watches as they obey without hesitation, without question. Their faces remain emotionless, minds focused on the task at hand.

How can they not feel it? How can they not sense the wrongness of what they’re about to do?

As the soldiers advance, the first shouts of alarm rise from the village below. Leon can hear it—the panic in their voices, see the sudden fear on their faces. Mothers pulling children close, men scrambling to gather their families. Chaos erupts as arrows fly and swords are raised, and yet, Leon remains frozen in place, his hand trembling on the reins.

The first bodies fall, the clash of steel and screams blending into a cacophony that drowns everything else. The world tilts beneath him, the ground shifting as the sickening sound of death fills his ears, louder than the wind, louder than anything.

I can’t do this.

The thought slices through the haze like a knife.

I can’t.

His grip tightens further on the reins, every muscle in his body tensing, ready to move, ready to do something. Anything.

A shout from behind jerks him from his paralysis. “Sir!”

Leon turns sharply, his pulse racing. A young messenger rides toward him, his face pale, fear etched into every line as he pulls his horse to a stop, barely managing to speak through gasps for air. “Urgent orders from the capital! Princess Ashley has been taken by the enemy. We must mobilize immediately to retrieve her.”

Leon’s heart slams against his ribs.

The princess. The heir to the throne.

For a brief, blessed moment, the chaos of the battlefield fades away, replaced by the only thing that matters. He can save her. He can stop this madness and do something that truly matters.

But the church has other orders.

The captain rides over, his brow furrowed as he tears the sealed letter from the messenger’s hand, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight. He scans it quickly, his expression hardening with each passing second before crumpling the parchment and tossing it to the ground.

“We proceed as planned,” the captain snaps, his tone cold, final.

Leon’s blood runs cold. “But the princess—”

“The orders stand,” the captain repeats, not even glancing at him. “We were sent here to purge this village of traitors, and that’s what we’ll do.”

The sound fades from Leon’s ears, replaced by a sharp ringing that drowns out the Captain ordering the messenger away and trying to direct him to the nearest base.

His pulse pounds in his temples, each beat like a hammer driving nails into his resolve. This isn’t just another village. This isn’t just another order. It’s the future of the kingdom hanging in the balance, and they’re about to throw it all away for what? For bloodshed masquerading as faith?

The bile rises in Leon’s throat, bitter and burning.

He thought he could stomach war. He thought he could follow orders, no matter how brutal. But this?

The last thread of the leash holding him snaps.

Leon’s hands shake on the reins as the captain’s sharp gaze lands on him. “Leon,” the captain growls, noticing his hesitation, “Remember yourself.”

An oath. To serve, to obey, to protect.

But as he looks out over the village, sees the smoke rising, the screams tearing through the air, Leon knows the truth.

This isn’t the will of Ethelion.

This is the will of men.

Men who’ve twisted the divine into something grotesque, something that demands blood for power. Men who’ve forgotten what they were supposed to protect.

Your face flashes before him—soft, kind, with that quiet strength. The words you once spoke come back to him, clear in the chaos.

One is not born to greatness. One achieves it.

“I can’t do this,” Leon whispers, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His voice is barely a breath, but the weight of the truth in them rings louder in his mind than any shout of command.

The captain’s gaze sharpens. “What did you say?”

Leon meets his eyes, feeling the fire build inside him. “I won’t do this,” he repeats, stronger now. “I won’t sit by and watch us slaughter innocents while the kingdom’s heir is in danger.”

“You swore an oath.”

“I swore an oath to protect,” Leon retorts, his breath catching as conviction tightens his chest. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

For a long, tense moment, silence stretches between them. The captain’s face twists in fury, his hand hovering near his sword. “You defy the Temple, and you defy Ethelion himself. You’ll be branded an oathbreaker. You’ll never be able to return.”

An oathbreaker. Cast out from the temple, from the faith, from you.

But Leon knows, deep down, that this decision was made long before he spoke the words.

“If following the Temple means abandoning the kingdom, then I’ll bear that title gladly.”

The captain’s jaw tightens, fury flashing in his eyes, but Leon doesn’t wait for the response. He turns his horse with a sharp tug, spurring it forward. The wind rushes against his face as he rides, faster and faster, leaving behind the chaos, the orders, the lies.

He knows what this means. He knows what’s waiting for him at the end of this path. There will be no place for him in the temple, no return to the saintess’s grace.

But as the wind cuts through him, sharp and freeing, he knows one thing for certain:

He’s made his choice.

And now, he’ll live with it.

The streets of the capital are thick with people, their cheers rising in waves that echoed off the towering stone walls of the city, the air alive with the sounds of celebration—laughter, music, the rhythmic beat of drums that thrummed through the cobblestone streets like a heartbeat. Banners of blue and gold flutter in the breeze, catching the midday sun and casting fractured patterns of light across the throngs of spectators who lined the streets.

And there, at the center of it all, rides Leon, astride a massive warhorse clad in gleaming black barding, the royal crest of Ethelion emblazoned on its chest. The horse’s hooves clatter against the stones, a steady, rhythmic sound that matches the beat of the drums, though Leon barely hears it. His focus is elsewhere—distant, cold, fixed on a point far beyond the horizon as the cheers of the people wash over him like distant waves.

He sits tall in the saddle, his body encased in full black armor that gleams like polished obsidian despite the streaks of dried blood splattered across the metal. His cape, once a regal white, fluttered in the breeze, its edges torn and frayed from the brutal campaign that had crowned him victor. Though battered, the helmet is tucked under his arm, leaving his face exposed to the cool autumn air.

The cheers from the crowd echo off the stone buildings, filling the air with a roar of excitement and adoration. Cries of “Long live Sir Leon!” and “Hail the hero!” ring out from every direction, the people pushing and jostling to catch sight of him as he rode by.

It all means little to him.

They shout his name, faces alight with joy, hailing him as their hero, their savior. He has returned from the war triumphant, Princess Ashley safe at his side, the enemy defeated and the kingdom secured. To them, he is a figure of legend, a warrior draped in glory and victory.

But to Leon, the glory feels hollow, like fool’s gold.

He fought for close to a decade, driven by a purpose that no longer existed. The blood on his armor, the lives lost in his name—it all seems to blur together in his mind, a swirling mass of faces and screams that he can’t escape. Even here, amidst the fanfare and celebration, the battlefield clings to him, its shadow cast long and dark over his soul.

The people can’t see it. They see only the armor, the crown of laurels resting atop his head, the bloodied sword at his side. They don’t see the burden of it, the way it presses down on him like a sin he could never lay down.

He glances to the side as the parade moved forward, the crowds pressing in closer as they strained to catch a glimpse of the soldiers coming home. Children are perched on their parents’ shoulders, waving small flags, their faces painted in the colors of the kingdom. Women throw flowers from their balconies, petals raining down like confetti, their bright colors almost a mockery to the dark steel of his armor.

And then, through the sea of faces, something catches his eye.

A small blur, darting between the legs of the adults, weaving through the crowd with surprising speed and determination. Leon’s gaze sharpens, his body tensing instinctively as he tracks the movement, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword.

It’s a child.

A little girl, no more than seven or eight years old, her hair tied in messy braids, face flushed with excitement. She breaks free from the crowd, slipping past the guards who stood watch along the edges of the street, and before anyone can stop her, she runs toward Leon, her small hands clutching something tightly to her chest.

The crowd gasps, a murmur rippling through as the girl reaches Leon’s horse. The guards move forward, ready to intervene, but Leon holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop.

He looks down at the child, eyes dark and tired. The little girl stares up at him, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, wide eyes filled with awe and something else—something Leon hasn’t seen in a long time.

Hope.

For a moment, the world slows, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as Leon and the girl lock eyes. She is so small, so fragile, standing there in front of him, her little hands trembling as she holds something out to him on her tiptoes.

A flower.

A single white lily, its petals slightly crumpled from her tight grip, but still intact, still whole. She raises it up to him, her hands shaking, lips parting in a shy, nervous smile.

“For you, sir,” she yells, her voice barely audible over the distant roar of the crowd. “Thank you for saving us!”

Leon stares down at the flower, his heart constricting painfully in his chest. The blood on his armor, the dirt caked beneath his fingernails, the weight of the sword at his side—all of it feels wrong in the presence of such innocence. He’s a soldier who threw away his oath, a killer, a man forged in the fires of war, and yet here stands this child, offering him a flower as if he were something more than just the weapon the kingdom had wielded.

His hand, still encased in the cold metal of his gauntlet, moves slowly, hesitantly, as if it doesn’t belong to him. He reaches down, the armor creaking with the motion, and gently takes the flower from the girl’s outstretched hands. The petals brush against the bloodstained metal of his gloves, stark and bright against the darkness of his armor.

“Thank you,” Leon mumbles, rough and strained, the words catching in his throat. His grip tightens around the delicate stem of the flower, careful not to crush it. For a brief moment, the warmth of the child’s gesture pierces through the fog of guilt and weariness that’s permanently settled over him, a glimmer of light in the darkness.

The little girl’s face lights up with a smile, her eyes shining with pure, untainted joy. She stands there and jumps up and down with excitement, beaming up at him as if he were the sun itself, as if his presence alone could banish the shadows that lingered at the edges of her world.

But Leon knows better. He feels the lock of hair curled inside the locket above his heart burn his skin.

The grand doors of the royal palace groan open with an echoing creak, revealing the hall beyond—a glittering display of prosperity and flamboyance that seems to scorn the simple austerity of the life Leon has known. Polished marble floors gleam beneath chandeliers of wrought gold, their light refracting off mirrors that line the walls. The air here is crisp, almost sharp with nose-breaking blends of perfumes, with none of the heavy warmth of the temple's incense.

Leon’s boots click sharply against the marble as he enters, each step ringing out in the cavernous hall, a sound swallowed by the murmurs of the courtiers who line the edges of the room. The steady hum of muted conversations fills his ears, escorted by the occasional clink of glasses. They watch him with calculating eyes, the nobles dressed in silks and velvets of every hue, faces painted with smiles too precise to be genuine, as suffocating as the armor that once bore him through battle.

He feels naked without it now, standing here in formal garb, his sword sheathed and distant at his side, a mere symbol of his victory rather than a tool of survival. The dark fabric of his tunic hangs heavy on his shoulders, trimmed with the royal blue of the kingdom.

Ahead, at the far end of the hall, the king sits on his throne. The high-backed chair is a towering edifice of dark wood, inlaid with gold and precious stones that sparkle under the dazzling chandeliers. The king himself is an imposing figure, draped in royal blues and deep purples, a crown resting atop his graying hair. He watches Leon’s approach with the same detachment as the nobles—his gaze that of a man weighing the worth of a tool rather than acknowledging the triumph of a soldier.

As Leon reaches the dais, he stops, kneeling—an action that should feel natural after years of service, but here, it is different.

The king rises slowly, the robes trailing around his feet like the velvet shadows of dusk, and approaches with the same calculated precision that governs the court. A ceremonial scepter gleams in his hand, more ornament than authority, but its significance is clear.

“Sir Leon,” the king’s words cut through the room like the edge of a blade, each syllable crisp, measured. “You stand before this court as a hero of our realm. For your valor in battle, for your unwavering loyalty to the crown, and for the rescue of Princess Ashley, I bestow upon you the title of Margrave.”

The tap of the scepter on Leon’s shoulder is light, almost delicate, but it might as well have been a hammer.

The king returns to his throne, settling back with a rustle of silk, and gestures for Leon to rise. “Rise, Margrave.”

Leon pushes to his feet, the formality of the moment bearing down upon him as the court claps in practiced politeness. Their applause is soft, a murmur of sound that fades almost as quickly as it had begun, leaving the room in an expectant silence.

It is time.

A low ripple of movement stirs at the far end of the hall as the clergy step forward. Robes of pristine white trail across the floor as the procession approaches, a stark contrast to the vivid blues and purples of the nobility. At the head of the clergy is the Archbishop, his ceremonial staff clicking rhythmically against the floor with each step. And beside him—veiled, serene, and radiant in her holy robes—is the saintess. The mask is a pure white, veil milky and opaque; the contrasts of light and darkness across its fabric give the impression of a reflection on water, of a thousand shifting stars under the sun. On your head rests a delicate crown of silver thorns, interwoven with fine filigree, glimmering like fresh snow, hands folded in your lap are covered by silk gloves, so smooth they almost shine.

Leon’s heart stutters.

This is the moment he has been longing for, the only prayer that’s ever left his lips even after his faith had fallen.

He has endured the war, survived the bloodshed, all for this. For you. For the woman who has been his guiding light, the saintess who had once healed him with her touch, whose presence had filled the void within him during the long, cold nights on the battlefield.

He steps forward, his hands trembling at his sides, his breath catching in his throat as the group approaches the dais.

His knee wants to bend before he even realizes it, the instinct to kneel before you stronger than any other impulse.

But as when you take your place atop the steps of the dais, hands raised in the familiar gesture of blessing, something gnaws at him—an unease that creeps along the edges of his mind. The movement of your hands, the tilt of your head—it is all wrong. Too stiff, too formal.

He hesitates.

The room holds its breath, the nobles watching in silence as the saintess descends down towards him, the veil obscuring your features, body swathed in layers of white that flutter with each step.

Leon’s pulse quickens, and his eyes—despite his every effort not to—search for yours through the veil and the mask. He needs confirmation that it’s him who has changed. He needs to see, even if it is just the glimpse of the eyes he had held in his memory through every moment of agony, through every victory.

But as you draw closer, his stomach drops.

The eyes behind the veil—dark, unfamiliar, and cold—are not yours.

His body freezes, his muscles locking in place as the realization hits him with the force of a blow.

This isn’t you.

This woman—this stranger—isn’t the one he had fought for, the one whose face had kept him alive in the blood-soaked trenches of the war.

The saintess lowers her hands, preparing to lay her blessing upon him, but Leon jerks back, his knees refusing to bend, breath quick and sharp in his chest. The room grows still, the murmurs of the nobles faltering as the tension thickens around him like a noose.

The Archbishop’s head snaps toward him, the ceremonial calm in his expression faltering for just a moment. His fingers tighten around the staff, the knuckles turning white beneath the pressure.

“Margrave,” the Archbishop’s reprimand is sharp, cutting through the air like the crack of a whip. “You must kneel to receive the Saintess’s blessing.”

Leon’s fists clench at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. His body is trembling, but it isn’t from fear. It is from the fear-soaked anger that is building inside him, slow and burning like a fire stoked too long. His gaze fixes on the false saintess, his heart thundering in his chest, his mind spinning with questions that have no answers.

Where are you?

The walls close in, the air thick with the silent judgment of nobles and clergy. Each breath is a growing struggle, laden with the oppressive load of their expectations. His limbs feel anchored, refusing to bow before this stranger, this imposter.

“Margrave,” the Archbishop’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding. His eyes flash a stern warning. “You will kneel.”

The pressure shatters.

Leon’s body moves before he can stop it, his hands flying out to grab the front of the Archbishop’s robes, yanking him forward with a force that sends the man stumbling, the ornate staff clattering to the floor. A collective gasp sweeps through the room, the nobles recoiling in shock as Leon’s voice, low and ragged, spills out.

“Where is she?” His hiss is a harsh rasp, breaths coming in short, jagged bursts. “Where is the real Saintess?”

The Archbishop’s face twists in fury, his hands flailing against Leon’s iron grip. “Unhand me, you fool! You stand in the presence of Ethelion’s chosen—”

“No.” The word is a snarl, the growl of an animal promising to get violent. Leon’s grip tightens, the anger boiling over, his muscles trembling with the force of it. “What have you done with her?”

The room descends into chaos. Nobles rise from their seats, the sound of their hurried footsteps mingling with the low murmur of alarmed voices. The clergy shift uneasily, their faces pale, but none of them dare to move. The paladins stationed near the walls exchange nervous glances, their hands hovering near their swords, but none step forward.

They have seen what Leon is capable of.

“Release me!” The Archbishop’s voice cracks, his pale face contorted with fear and rage. “You dare attack the church? You will be branded a heretic for this!”

Leon barely hears them, his body trembling with rage as he stares down the terrified clergyman clawing at his arm, nails digging into Leon's skin, leaving behind bloody scratches.

“I don’t care.” Leon’s voice is low, silent, the words spilling from him like venom. “Tell me where she is.”

Before the Archbishop can answer, a hand—small, yet firm—clamps down on Leon’s shoulder.

Princess Ashley doesn’t release his arm as she pulls him toward the side of the throne room, guiding him through the side doors that lead into a quieter, more secluded hallway. The heavy wooden door closes behind them with a dull thud, cutting off the noise of the throne room and leaving them in a sudden, suffocating stillness.

Leon exhales, his breath shuddering as he leans against the wall, one hand coming up to palm at his face, and between his fingers, stares down at the ground with a wild look.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy

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liveontelevision · 7 months ago

Text

Suffer Pt. 3

Suffer Part 3 is here! I'm planning on having at least two more parts, I was not expecting this to become a whole thing but :') I gotta see it through now lol

When I say I love slowburn fics, I mean it dammit.

Disclaimer: This is my personal interpretation of the characters from Hazbin Hotel. I respect the canon storyline and characters, but this fic will stray from it a decent amount.

(This series is complete! All parts are listed on my master list and are linked below!)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

♡ ♡ ♡

Holding a small, sleeping Charlie close to your chest, you swayed her back and forth. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you danced around the familiar nursery, humming the same tune you've used to calm her down for years. She was asleep. Safe and oblivious to any of the chaos around her. You envied her. With one final spin, you let your eyes open. Your arms were empty. She was gone. The comfortable weight of her tiny figure instantly went away. You panicked, the room you were in was shifted into something unfamiliar and uneasy. A source of light finally drew your eyes. A distant doorframe provides light, casting the silhouette of a tall, curvy woman. Her eyes were glowing.

“L-Lillith?” There were sounds of a baby crying out and the intimidating figure became far away, ceasing any light and drowning you in a darkness that you've felt before. Long ago.

A heavy knocking at your door forced you awake. As you sat up you went to wipe the sleep from your eyes, only now noticing the tears streaming from your face. Just a dream… The knock was louder and quicker this time, forcing a response out of you. “Gimme a minute! Fuck -” You roll out of your bed, going to turn off the radio on your nightstand. Having the radio on throughout the night was something Alastor suggested, obviously, after you confided in him about having a series of nightmares. His show is broadcast while you sleep, and when it isn’t, the radio static actually acts as a soothing white noise. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it kept you from going insane in the least.

You finally approached the door, your body still wrapped in your large blanket that trailed across the floor. A cheerful, as always, Charlie stood at the door. She was quick to say good morning, but went straight to the point without letting you respond. She clearly practiced this.

“So! I know my dad's visit a few weeks ago was a liiittle… Tense? But - uh, I was wondering if you two talked yet..? By chance?” She spoke like she would be scolded for saying the wrong thing. You shook your head, still slowly blinking awake.

“Well - okay! I was just asking because he.. keeps.. asking about you…” she held her phone out to you, letting you scroll through some of the messages he’s been sending her. You chuckle at first, he can't text for shit. But she was right. Ever since you blew him off that day, he's been asking Charlie how you've been and what you've been up to.

“I mean, I love my dad and it's awesome he's finally talking to me again, but - I don't know, if it's not too much to ask, could you maybe just.. talk to him?” Charlie rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, and her words broke your heart a little. It's cruel of him to try and reach out to you that way, put Charlie through that distress, but maybe you could've handled your last encounter with more care.

How could you say no to her?

“Yeah, i’ll talk to him, Charlie. Don't worry.” A yawn interrupted your sentence, but you still sent her a reassuring smile as she finally relaxed her shoulders.

“That’s great! I’ll just give him your number!” She planned outloud, turning away to head down the hall.

“Charlie- “ You called out, “He loves you, you know that, right? Don’t forget that.” Charlie’s smile drooped for a second, then quickly picked back up. She nodded as she left your view.

With a yawn, your body still not registering that you were awake or what you had agreed to, you went to shut your door. It didn't click like it usually does, so you turned to see the blockage - Alastor. He'd stuck his foot in the door to prevent it from closing entirely.

“Good morning, my dear!” his voice was booming, as he threw his arms out in a dramatic flare, your door swinging open.

Nope, you were too tired for this.

“Fuck, Al, can't this wait ‘til I'm at least dressed?” You tossed your blanket aside, rummaging through your drawers to cover the little silky tank top and pajama shorts you had borrowed from Angel during your first nights at the hotel. Maybe it was your sleep depravity, or just the fact that Alastor has made it a habit to be extra kind to you since you arrived, but you didn't mind him seeing you in sleepwear. He had no ill intent, as far as you knew.

“Unfortunately, it cannot! I heard you're going on a little outing with the king! How exciting~” He hummed, sitting at the edge of your bed as you cover yourself with your sweater. You plop down next to him, still wiping your eyes. He reached out, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek. Looking down at his hand, swiping your tears across his fingers, he met your suddenly embarrassed gaze.

“Another rough night, dear?” You weren't sure how he knew that's what that was from, but you nodded anyway.

“Just another nightmare, it's fine. They're always about Charlie and - the mistakes I made when I was taking care of her.. I guess it still kind of bugs me.” He let out a pitied hum, as he stood to turn your radio back on. He tuned it to some old timey jazz music before resting his hands behind his back. You didn't know it could play music..

“Well, it seems that meeting with that royal menace may not be the wisest choice. Wouldn't you agree?” You looked down before letting a sigh slip from your tired lips.

“It's fine, I can handle myself. Besides, he keeps bugging Charlie and I - I feel like I owe her..”

you shake your head, standing to your feet and beckoning Alastor out of your room.

“It's fine! It's just a quick visit, I won't be gone long.” He took your hand give it a quick kiss, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Well, if he does anything to hurt you, love -” love? “- I'll be right there to help.” He emphasized the end of his sentence with a quick tap on your nose before leaving your room. The music faded back into static as soon as he left.

You heard stories about their fight, plus you could hear their aggressive duet from your room that day, but you believed him either way. You had no doubt he could swoop in and save the day if you needed it. You wondered why people seemed so wary around him. He was a perfect gentleman to you, even with all the warnings you've gotten from Husk and Vaggie.

He had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't think you would stress about what to wear. You hadn't even made plans yet, but all of sudden, you worried about what he would think of your clothes if he saw you. Charlie sent you his number, so it was on you to reach out. You ignored it for now. You’d ignore it forever if it would keep these feelings from resurfacing. Finally deciding on an outfit, just a black turtleneck that left your arms bare and a skirt that hugged your curves in a lovely way. Even if it probably wasn't the easiest skirt to bend over in, you decided it would do.

A lot of your clothes were hand me downs or were lent to you by either Angel, Vaggie or Charlie. None of it was truly your size, but you had no problem adding in some extra panels or cutting things to your liking. The sweater you grabbed previously was actually gifted to you by Alastor. You had no idea why he would give it to you, a simply red cardigan with a soft knit, but it quickly became your favorite accessory. Pulling up the collar, you buried your nose into the knitting, taking a soft breath in. It always smelled of whiskey and honey, no matter how often you washed it.

You went through your day like normal, followed along with some exercises Charlie was running and taking a quick trip to Cannibal Town with Alastor, something you did every now and then. It started off with him accompanying you to the bakery, where you would occasionally lend a hand, then he would split off to spend the afternoon with Rosie. As time went on, he would ask you to join him.. It was intimidating at first, but Rosie was nothing but a sweetheart, you had no problem fitting in with the two.

when you returned to the hotel, you finally mustered the courage to call Lucifer. With a quick pep-talk to yourself, you held your breath before bringing the phone to your ear. He picked up immediately.

“Hell- Erm.. uhh.. Shit, how do I -” Did he realize he answered the call?

“Helloo? Lucifer here - speaking! Who-who’s this..?” He knew who it was. You assumed this was just him trying to be casual. He wasn't very good at it.

“Lucifer - It’s me.. can we talk?” You were gripping the end of your sleeve nervously with your free hand.

“Yes! Yes, of course! When are you free? We can.. figure something out, right?” You could hear him tripping over himself, kicking things around, and something that sounded like a squeaky-toy being stepped on? His excitement made you giggle. Even with pulling your phone away to try and prevent your laughter coming through, he was losing his mind on the other end of the call. It felt like a nostalgic punch to the gut. He didn't realize how much he missed your laughter until now.

“I guess i’m free whenever.. Charlie doesn't like doing exercises on the weekend, so -” A breeze hit your face, blowing all your hair past your shoulders. Looking to the source, a golden edged portal had opened right in the middle of the hallway. A fidgeting Lucifer was standing with his hands behind his back, a nervous but excited looking grin across his face. You looked down to your phone, seeing the call was still going, then spotted his phone sitting on a table behind him. You let out the smallest huff, before hanging up and tucking your phone away.

“Missed me?” He said suavly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. God, you did. You couldn't admit that though. Your anger, guilt and nerves overshadowed any joy that he may have brought under different circumstances.

“Yeah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to step towards the portal. He reached his hand out to you, and he noticed you hesitating. “it’s uh- it’s a little bit of a drop if you step through the - um.. just.. wanted to -” you took his hand that he almost retracted, and carefully stepped over the border of the portal. You tried to keep your mind from noticing how your hand perfectly fit in his.

Static filled your core as you left the hotel, but before you could turn and see if Alastor was nearby, the portal had shut and the static ceased.

If he does anything to hurt you, I'll be right there.

Alastor's words rung through your head one last time. You finally met Lucifer eyes after literal decades.

“Um.. Tea?” Lucifer was fiddling with his ring again. Years ago, it was something you noticed he did whenever he was nervous. You nodded and watched as he conjured up everything needed to brew hot tea.

“What, you don't use any of the servants for that? Not even some angelic magic?” Small talk felt like it could make this moment less awkward. As he poured the already heated water into two teacups, he simply shook his head.

“Angelic power is great and all, but nothin’ beats fresh tea.” His smile was so sweet. You nervously balled up the sleeve of your sweater into your hand and brought it to your nose, breathing in the same sent that always seemed to calm you.

“And.. I- ahem.. I ended up finding other places for most of the staff after..” he said it quietly, unable to call attention to his missing spouse. Definitely a touchy subject for both of you. You finally looked around, realizing you recognized the tea room. It was small, but was walled in entirely with windows. It had a great view of the little garden that used to be brimming with difigured, yet beautiful, greenery. You took another look around the room, the nostalgia wearing off, taking in the dust and trash that was collected in the corners. The garden had died off as well. It wasn't completely unslightly, but the mess didn't make sense for a royal manor.

His words finally hit you.

“Found other places? What does that even mean?” You could feel your blood boil, watching him place the tea bags in each cup. You calmed for a moment, seeing that his hands were shaking.

“I just found places for them to work, is all. Sent the stylists to that Velvette girl in Pentagram City, some of the cooks went down to the Glutton Ring, ya know. Stuff like that. I wanted them to be taken care of.” He passed the cup to you, then pulled out one of the two chairs at the small table sitting in the center of the room.

“I just wanted to take care of them..since, I-I couldn't do that for you..” His voice was low, and when you attempted to look at his face he would sip from his cup or turn away. Don't be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve that. It was all so long ago, it doesn't matter. Remember why you're here.

“Good for them. Now, I'm here because you're bugging Charlie. Stop asking about me idiot, she's gonna think something’s wrong.” You placed your half empty cup down. He choked on his drink at your words, not realizing that you had seen the poorly written texts that he was sending to Charlie.

“And nothing is wrong. Right?” Lucifer scratched the back of his neck nervously, then opened his mouth as if to say something. He didn't. He simply nodded at first.

“Y-Yup, right.. Everything's fine. l'll stop asking about you.” You went to stand, brushing the wrinkles from your skirt off as you did. That's that. You came here to get Lucifer to stop bugging Charlie and that's what you did. There's no other reason for you to -

“Wait, please..!” His hand took a hold of yours, as he almost stumbled out of his chair to keep you from walking off. “I just want to say - “

“ - no you don't have to. It was a long time ago. Everyone makes mistakes, right?” You tried your best to keep your cool, but clearly it wasn't working. He winced at your words, releasing his hold on you.

“I have no excuse. I can't make it all go away, I still feel - “ he clasped his hand to his chest, struggling to figure out what he's trying to say.

“I'm sorry. I don't need you to forgive me, but please know, that I am sorry.” The room went silent, with your back towards him, the only thing you could hear was the beating of your own heart. Lucifer didn't know what to do, until the silence was broken by a pathetic little sniffle.

Dammit, not again. Don't let him get to you. Keep your walls up.

He quickly approaches you, his hands hovering over your shoulder, as if you’d shatter if he touched you.

“Nono, please, I -uhh.. I'll leave Charlie alone! I'll stop talking to you, I'll leave you alone if -”

With a quick turn, finally faced him. Letting out a breath you'd been holding in for far too long, you rush towards him with the intent to meet him with a long overdue embrace. The sudden leap left him staggering backwards, tripping over nothing and bringing both of you to the floor. “Don't you dare! H-How could you.. why would think that's what I want..?” Your words were muffled into his shoulder, since he had placed a hand over your head to protect you from the fall. Not even acknowledging that you were suddenly sitting on the floor between his legs, he finally managed to process your words. It took him a moment to even try and reciprocate the hug. He hadn’t been touched like this for years, it nearly overwhelmed his senses.

“ I want to know what happened that night! I want to know how you feel, or I guess felt, about me.. I dont care if it hurts, please tell me the truth..” all of the questions you've been asking yourself for years suddenly spilled out.

You felt absolutely pathetic, relying on him to tell you everything okay. But fuck, you needed this. Even if you never talk to him again after this, you needed some kind of closure.

“Woah- that's uh.. that's alot to drop on guy.. Uhm…” It wasn't like he didn't want to admit what he was feeling. With the relationship he had with Lillith, he had just become accustomed to not talking about himself much. That being said, with one look Into your teary eyes, he was all yours. He carefully took your hands from around his waist and held them in his own. He gently traced his thumbs along the top of your hands, letting you calm down before he went on.

“I.. I think about you all the time, I always have. I don't know what I would've done differently that night, but I'd do anything to take it back. To fix it..” The sweet smile on his face barely made his words sound better.

“I don't understand, Lucifer.” Your voice was quiet, and cracked a bit when his name passed your lips. You saw him jolt slightly, hearing his own name through your sweet, yet saddened voice.

“Well, I guess..Li-Lillith and I-” You both winced at the mention of her name. “- we weren't what everyone expected of us. And you were one of the only demons to know that. She- ugh.. I don’t know she left without a word, without a note - I have no idea where she went.” You felt like you were getting let in on a secret that he had been keeping for years. And maybe that's exactly what was happening. Your face went pale, your head swaying slightly, Lucifer took a hold of your arms and helped you stand, guided you back to your seat.

“It's not because of me, is it?” You said quietly, as if Lillith was just around the corner, ready to scold the two of you. Again.

“No! No, geez, if it has anything to do with you, then I'm to blame. Don't worry.” He still smiled at you, his face becoming strained after grinning for so long, then placed a hand over yours.

“Don't worry? Yeah! That shouldn't be too hard.. you idiot.” You rolled your eyes, but didn't pull away at his touch.

“I'll get straight to the point then, if you think I'm such a clown -” you couldn't help but grin at his self deprecating humor, and he's so relieved to see your smile.

“With you being in Charlie's life again, I'd like to.. I don't know, clear the air? Try and patch things up..?” You went to deject the idea, but he went on before you could.

“I know it won't be easy, and it's okay if it doesn't work out. But we all used to have so much fun together.. I think right now, it could be good for Charlie, and me, to have someone like you around.. I want you back in my life.” His little spiel seemed scripted up until that last part. Your heart throbbed. You were known to always decline help from people, avoid handouts, but the rush you felt hearing Lucifer say he needs you, you were almost swooning.

“Besides, we've both grown up! Moved on- Right? I have all of Hell to keep an eye on, and you've got your little boyfriend back at the hotel so -” You wasted no time in correcting him. The idea of him thinking you had moved on with another demon made you panic for some reason you would never admit to. Why did he think you had a boyfriend? Who would -

“Al?? Oh no, it's not like that, I swear. He's just been a good friend to me since I went to the hotel, is all.”

“Al, huh?” He grumbled, leaning back in his seat ans crossing his arms over his chest. The warmth he left on your hand was immediately missed.

“Alastor, you know. The.. um.. You met him.” You held the sleeve of your sweater to your nose again, allowing the sweet air into your lungs. Fuck, he couldnt take his eyes off of you. He never wanted to take his eyes off of you, again. You just looked so pure in your little sweater.

But, that sweater.. something seemed off about it to Lucifer. He could feel some strange energy emitting off of it. It didn't come off as dangerous, but it definitely left him feeling uneasy. Like a headache that's just barely there, suffocating his thoughts. He's felt that before. It clouded his actions and judgements during his fight with-

“Hey, uh.. Be careful around that deer guy, will you? He seems pretty intimidating. Not to me, of course, but you know. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” You leaned forward, with your elbows on the table, propping your chin up. “Are you jealous?”

“Wha-What?? Of course not, I'm the king of Hell, I obviously trump him in every aspect.” There it was. There was that cocky, little bundle of nerves you used to know all those years ago. Everything finally hit you with the lost time, seeing that side of him.

“Lucifer, I missed so much. I wanted to be there for her, for Charlie.. I know I was just a babysitter, but there was so much more I wanted to do, so many things I wish I could've seen with her. With you, too.” You placed your hand overtop of his, just as he did to you earlier. He obviously wasn't expecting the reciprocation, flinching slightly at your touch.

“I guess I get what you're saying.. about taking that day back? That maybe if I didnt attack you the way I did, that I could be there longer. But… I was in love, Lucifer.” He stifled any giggles at the idea that you considered that kiss an attack, but nothing mattered after what you had said. He immediately flushed in the face at your words.

“In love..?” He barely whispered the words, his eyes sparkling. He felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, a familiar one, but still one that he hadn't felt in years.

“Yeah.. hm, it would've happened sooner or later, I think. I think I would've done it at some later point, if it didnt happen then.. I guess I'm just glad I left before Charlie could remember me. It all worked out, so - I guess what i’m saying is - we can try. Let's try being friends, again.”

What a bittersweet resolution.

“Okay. I'd like that.” He was fighting off any unwanted feelings. Burying any ideas to just profess that he felt the same way, and that he still does. That he wants to pick back up right where you left off. That he barely kept the longing, of feeling your lips against his, at bay. No matter how hard that was, things were looking up. Don’t blow it, Lucifer.

You chatted for a little while longer. You told him about your struggles after you were fired, all your interactions in Cannibal Town, the good and bad, then your eventual arrival at the hotel. The conversation lightened a bit, as you told stories about Charlie, giving him a much needed update on how she was doing when she wasn't stressing about a visit from him. You went on, talking about the other residents that he didnt have a chance to interact with last time. Obviously, that part of the conversation went into heavy detail about Alastor and all his little gifts and kindness.

Before you noticed, Lucifer held the edges of his chair, his hands gripping tightly into the metal at every little sigh or giggle you'd make in reference to something Alastor did. He'd dismiss it as jealousy for now. But that didn't stop him from rerunning that one moment in his mind. The moment where he was holding you. Touching the small of your back, just like how he used to.

The way you stood so close to him, that he could wrap his slender arm completely around your waist, and the confidence in your dismissal of Luficer's general presence. It was commendable, no matter the subject, he loved seeing your more confident side. Your words still hurt. The topic eventually came up.

“Oh god, Lucifer! I'm so sorry, I almost forgot about that.. I didnt mean anything, that was completely rude of me to treat you like that. I felt something come over me, seeing your face again, I just - I don't know, it was probably just some repressed rage? I'm sorry.” He quickly waved his hands, offering you reassurance in your actions, admitting that he felt he deserved it after everything.

“Don't say that, I was out of line. What you did to me doesn't excuse my actions.” You admitted. Was forgiveness possible in this situation? He had pushed the possibility so far down in his mind that a mutual respect seemed like an unachievable goal. And any reciprocated feelings were merely a dream.

This felt like a dream.

You asked how he was. He didn't hear that question often, so he didn't really answer with fun stories or anything exciting. His mind went into autopilot after you left. And after Lillith left, a lot of memories seemed suppressed. You asked about Charlie. He was worried you'd do that.

“Well- She uh.. went through her whole teenage phase, you know, goth makeup, boyfriends, a bunch of stuff she grew out of. She spent more time with.. her m-mother, though.. as she got older. But hey! Here she is now, doing the whole hotel thing, I'm very proud of her.” He nodded, clearly ready to move off the topic. But you weren’t.

“She looked up to you, you know. A lot. Oh man, she would cry for you all the time, constantly try to get into your workshop - as cute as it was, I wasn't ready to chase her down all the time. And i’d say she still looks up to you, Lucifer. You inspired her, I can tell.” You swayed the backwash of your tea in your cup, the pot was emptied long ago. Looking up, you see a trembling smile then watch him exhale a shaky sigh.

“Thank you.” He said softly. You couldn't stop yourself from leaning towards him a bit, after placing your cup down with a small clink.

Stop, Don't do this again.

Things might be different this time, but it can only go wrong in some other way, you were sure of it. Still, he leaned in as well. As you got closer, ready to shut your eyes to the reality and just let your fantasies take over, he reeled back, cover his nose and mouth with his hand. You jumped back, clearly embarrassed. He wouldnt call attention to it, leaving you to wonder what went wrong, but the scent from the sweater. It was disgusting to him.

“O-Okay, good catch up. I should get going, I - umm.. I promised Charlie I'd help her with something, so..” That was a lie. But if you spent another moment in that room with him alone, you'd have no control over what happened next.

“Oh.. right. Here -” He rose from his chair and opened the portal back up, leading to the same hallway you were in before. Turning back to him as he approached you, neither of you really said goodbye. Neither of you wanted to say goodbye. After an awkward exchange of trying to figure out if this should end with a handshake, a wave, a kiss - nope not that one. a kiss would be too much. But a hug?

Lucifer carefully placed his arms around you, encasing you close to his chest. He could feel your heart rate increase. The scent of your cardigan you wore overwhelmed him, but he refused to let go after feeling your arms lay comfortably around the back of his waist.

Good lord, this man hadn't gotten any in centuries. it took all of his strength to not trail his hands underneath that damned sweater and pull it off of you, feeling his way up your torso, sliding just the clawed tips of his fingers under your shirt until you -

“Lucifer?” Your words were mumbled, your face pressed against his chest after he had tightened his grip.

“Hoof- sorry.” He quickly pulled away. You immediately missed the touch, but it was definitely for the best. For both of you.

“Well, Thanks for coming by.. you have my number..? Right! Call me whenever you want, I'm not busy-” Sure. The king of Hell wasn't busy. He just didn't want to admit that he’d drop anything he was doing if it meant hearing your voice. You nodded your head, taking a firm grip on his hand as you stepped carefully out of the portal and back into the hotel.

“I'll see you, Lucifer.” You said sweetly, he visibly melted at your words.

“I hope so.” With a quick wave, the portal cinched shut.

---

Alastor stood in the hallway, right where the portal had closed, greeting you with a stretched smile.

“Darling! How was your little visit? I wasn't expecting him to sweep you off your feet so soon, I hope it went well.” He approached you, tapping his microphone to the ground and leaning into you.

“You never called for me, I’m hoping he didn’t hurt you. Again.” His voice crackled and a high pitch ring made you cover your ears for a moment.

“No, Alastor, it was good! We're gonna try and work things out, see if we can be friends again. I think it went the best it could, if you ask me.” You hummed with a sense of confidence, strolling dwon the hall with Alastor following beside you. You didn't notice his eye twitch and his ears folding back at the mention of his full name. He was losing you.

“Just be careful, dear! We don’t want you to make any mistakes again, do we?” He had no idea what he was talking about. Right? You hadn’t told him anything.

“Well, it’s about time I run some of my errands. Let me know if I can be of service to you.” A signature greeting for you at this point, Alastor reaches for your hand and presses another kiss across your knuckles. He looks up at you the way he usually does, but he let his lips linger for just a moment longer. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he tilted your hand to place his nose against the sleeve of your gifted sweater, inhaling the scent and exhaling with a hum.

“R-right, I will. Thanks.” You pulled away from his grasp, his eyes suddenly shooting open. You pulled away from him. That hasn't happened before. He wasn't nervous, exactly. But he did disappear into his shadow, which darted down the hall in the blink of an eye, leaving you with nothing but innocent curiosity.

♡ ♡ ♡

To be continued! Stay Tuned ;)

!Taglist!

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelymisunderstood @escapistoftherealworld @b4ts1e @hamthepan @kyo-kyo1 @looking1016 @polytheatrix @littledolly2345 @lillianastuff @yourlocalcryptidbee @0strawberrysorbet0 @themageofblood @jayyyayaysblog @floralsightings @azmosposts @8har0ley8 @actuallyspiderwoman @sirenetheblogger @christineblood @kaytemchugh @cimadreamer @simpdevil66 @azmosposts @m3ow1 @acrazyartist @redfoxwritesstuff @4k1to @meesachan @corvusskid )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer fluff #hazbin lucifer

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mysticalserenity-tarot · 4 months ago

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/)/) ( . .) ( づ🌷 How they would be as a love partner? (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡..｡

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support, it means a lot to me!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll delve into how your specific person would likely behave as a love partner. You can consider this the continuation of my first Pac and second Pac, if you prefer. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡.｡.:* - *:.｡.♡♡.｡

I love how my piles can be distributed based on your partner's energy 🥰 We have pile 1 describing romanticism and passion yet adventure and youth, pile 2 indicating adventure and youth (very similar to pile 1), and pile 3 representing the hard work towards a good and healthy relationship!

🌷PILE 1🌷

The Chariot, Page of Cups, The Lovers

Hi Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Your person has the energy of "life is beautiful, let's have fun." [lol on the radio they're literally playing "girls just want to have fun" as I'm typing this].

They may had many flings or one-night stands in the past, nothing serious. However, when they truly fall in love with someone, both in body and soul, it's game over for them. They are willing to set aside their ego to pursue the one they love, all while maintaining a sense of playfulness in the relationship. Moreover, they have a strong sense of direction and would commit to the relationship if they find their true love.

This person will sweep you off your feet, quite literally symbolized in the PoC card which depicts a man in the air. They will make you forget about any past heartbreaks and take you on adventures, exploring things you've always wanted to but hadn't the chance. Duality is prominent in your reading, your person embodies duality with a contrasting blend of emotions, both masculine and feminine energies that come together harmoniously, and they are characterized by nurture and protection. They would be your "Knight in shining armor" I just heard it loud and clear. For those who have a more masculine nature currently (tarot has no gender, we always talk in terms of energy) they will be the Yang to your Ying, and viceversa. "In bed is going to be fireworks - yeah I just heard it and I'm so sorry I didn't mean to do a spicy reading, but seems like is difficult for them to hide their passion 😅 is this my "burning with passion" pile's sp from my previous Pac 👀) I feel Gemini (plus The Lovers)and/or fire placements!

They are willing to go great lengths for you; let's say you're suddenly craving an ice-cream, they will go and get it for you. And they can bring out the youthfulness and enthusiasm in life. You're probably thinking "hm too good to be true" but my dear let me tell you, partners like these esixt.

In terms of a possible number connection, "67" or a number with a "7" in it may be significant for either you or your person.

I love your person's energy!

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [[email protected]]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

🌷PILE 2🌷

5 of Swords reversed, Knight of Wands, 6 of Wands

Hi Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

Okay, this has a mix of energies, which tells me that your relationship could have ups and downs at the beginning unless you're both willing to work through it. Communication is really important. However, I see everything working out in the end because of the two triumphant/celebrating cards. I sense that your person would be an adventurous partner and you could travel together (just like pile 1), adding new things in your relationship to prevent it from feeling mundane or boring. Your partner would always keep you guessing on what they'll do next.

They would love your reaction of shock or surprise, which is playful and mischievous. They may be young or have a youthful spirit and dislike staying closed in four walls. I'm also picking up on someone extroverted and a social butterfly, who may be a fire sign or have strong fire placements in their chart. Your role in the relationship could be to help them to ground sometimes. Their kink is feeling themselves without feeling any pressure or scrutiny from other people judging them.

They could be the type to embarrass you when you go out but in a playful way, so don't be mad! I told you, pile 2, your person is very young at heart; they still think they're in their 20s, which is great because they keep nurturing their inner child. As your partner, they will nurture yours. Many of you in this pile are introverted, and your partner will bring you out of your shell - opposites attract, and that's true!

For others who are more expansive, you and your partner will match eachother's energy and they will love it. You could do crazy things together, but it's important to set boundaries for it to be in a healthy and consensual way. As your partner, they may attract some envy from others, but also nice people who genuinely like you together. They may be someone important or an influencer/YouTuber

If you resonate with pile 1, I highly recommend checking it out, as it seems to have a pretty similar energy.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

🌷PILE 3🌷

King of Cups, Knight of Pentacles, 9 of Cups

Hi Pile 3, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

As a love partner, your person would be nurturing and hardworking, willing to grow and cultivate the relationship day by day, working through setbacks and hardships to make it stronger. Thus, the love you have for each other grows like a plant, with kindness and patience. Water energy being prominent but with a hint of earth indicating a blend of emotional depth and practicality, which can create a stable and secure environment.

Your person knows how to balance their emotions and doesn't allow negative feelings to get the best of them, which is an essential quality in any relationship. When angry, they won't express it with abuse or yelling but may need some space to cool down first before addressing the issue. They are patient, trustworthy, and can provide a sense of security and support. Both of you are compatible in terms of stability, and they can lead in satisfying your needs. There seems to be a possibility of moving in together or a long journey, perhaps even across countries or continents.

They are likely to keep their emotions to themselves until they have processed them, and would make sure you feel nurtured and secure. In summary, your person appears to be a hardworking, nurturing, and stable partner who knows how to handle their emotions and prioritize your needs.

Although the insights for this pile may be shorter compared to the previous ones, it seems your person may be somewhat secretive for now, suggesting there might be more yet to discover about their personality and the dynamics of your relationship!

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #tarot blr #tarot blog #pick an image #tarot cards #collective reading #tarot readings #love tarot reading #love reading #spirituality #tarot deck #the light seer's tarot #mysticalserenity tarot #love reader #intuition #intuitive reader

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strawberryshortcake0413 · 3 months ago

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Last hope (part 3)

Characters:yandere Leon S Kennedy (older version) x reader

Disclaimer: This fanfic contains dark-themed topics, such as kidnapping, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-consent, unwanted pregnancy,etc

Warning: yandere Leon Kennedy, kidnapping, non-consent, depressed reader, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, unwanted pregnancy, emotional & mental abuse, out of character leon etc

@vg-k for the divider, thank you :)

The pictures used does not belong to me!!!

Chapters: pt1 pt2 pt4

For the past few days, you have been trying to get under Leon's skin back and forth. Asking him questions that either makes him furrowed his brows or blush.

While you were trying to get closer to your kidnapper, Leon saw an opportunity to make you his forever. You would only be his, and he would be the only thing that you found sense in.

Not only one dream he would gain from his excellent plan but three things. A baby, a complete family, and your love. Leon grinned to himself as his dove started massaging his big shoulders.

Even for a person who does a lot of physical work, Leon's body ached and tensed most of the time. His Dove's hands massaging him made him less tense and almost too easy.

His pants felt tight as he imagined your delicate hands on his cock. "My little girl... Do you know what you're doing to daddy?" Leon breathed out as he grabbed your hands.

He kissed your hands while whispering loving words. "You know daddy loves you so much, right? Baby? Daddy loves you more than anyone. I will protect you. From all those... only, only, if you love me back" he whimpered out while sucking your fingers one by one.

"Daddy... what are you doing?" You choked out as your cunt started pulsing from his doing.

Leon closed his eyes for a moment and zoned out from the world. It was now only you and him. He will ask you to start a family with him. Everytime he went out and saw a happy couple with their children, hanging round the park, so happy, it always broke his heart, string by string.

Now he finally found someone he loved, he was ready to start a family. He was ready since the day he turned 21, but life decided Leon didn't deserve someone good.

"But guess what? I won. I have everything I ever wanted now" Leon thought to himself as he slowly switched from your finger to your nipple.

During the time you stayed with Leon, you learned he had a lactation kink. Even though he never admitted he had one, you knew it from the way the older man always, always sucks your nipples before sex, closing his eyes and going down for it.

"L-Leon..." you squeaked, trying to move away from his mouth, causing him to almost growl.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare run away from me." Leon barked, his mouth still attached to your bud, smacking your face.

You gently stroke your cheek where he had slapped you, it wasn't hard but you knew if you got him mad, he is more capable of doing more than just slapping.

After a few minutes, Leon came back to life and brought his hand sneakily inside your shorts. Rubbing in slow, torturing pace while you moaned like a bitch in heat.

"Leo-Da-Daddy..." you whined, grabbing his blind lock as his speed increased. It all came loose when he bit down your nipple. Leon groaned in response and pulled his fingers away.

"We're gonna have a family. You're going to be a good little mommy. And guess what? We're going to make it happen today. Right now" Leon smirked, pulling his pants down.

You came back from your high, aching for his touch, not even realizing you were forgetting who you are and what you planned.

"Please... please daddy" you whined, trying to take off his shirt in hurry. Leon's smirk grew wilder, seeing you finally becoming a good wife he always wanted.

"Good girl. On your fours" he commanded after you threw his shirt on the floor. You crawled on your fours on the bed, arching your back, trying to emphasize your ass to him more.

Leon sniffed your clothed cunt.

"Fuck angel. You smell so sweet. Gotta make sure to breed this sweet pussy" he groaned as he dived in your cunt. You could feel his nose occasionally sniffing your cunt and groaning to himself, and biting on your pussy lips.

After a few moments of teasing the both of you, he pulled your shorts down harshly before making sure your legs were free.

He slapped your ass cheek and grabbed the meat.

"Look at this ass. You were hiding these girls from everyone. Everyone should look at them." The blonde said, giving you a smack.

"Aww, does it hurt baby?" He cooed before doing the same. After five good smacks, he finally licked your cunt in a long stripe. Your legs shook from the stimulation as Leon kitten licked your clit.

"Leon!" You cried as you tried to lay down. He lifted your hips and smacked you again.

"Get up! No one is going to make a good baby if you keep being lazy. " he pulled you up. Then Leon started to make out with your pussy. Separating the folds with his fingers while his tongue thrusted in and out of you.

"Sweet like molasses," he said before turning your head up and kissing you. As he pulled away, a string of long saliva connected your lips. Not to mention you could taste yourself. It was sweet. Like condensed milk.

Your head was foggy with lust taking over your head. You couldn't even remember why you were with Leon in the first place. Or who he was. Or who you were.

"Daddy. Please. I want it." You whined trying to get to his cock closer by moving your ass in his direction.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want, " Leon grasped out with a low voice. He was gripping your ass cheek so hard it was starting to lose its color.

"I want your babies, Daddy," you whimpered out. Just a week ago, you would have killed yourself with a kitchen knife if you said this shit. But now, it didn't matter. So what? Can't a girl be happy and careless for the first time? You did your role in society. Why can't you have someone to take care of you for once?

Inside the back of your mind, your past self was screaming at you. But in this moment, all that mattered was Leon.

Maybe. Just maybe. Domestic life wouldn't be so bad with him.

You were crying at this point, both from overstimulation and your thoughts. You didn't have anyone in life where you could trust with your secrets, someone you could hope that they will do anything for you, someone who could at least take care of you. Why did Leon have to appear as a kidnapper? An abuser and someone you shouldn't give in. Why couldn't he appear as a nice guy in your life? Normal man with a normal life.

Leon's eyes widened a little, almost unnoticeable if someone who didn't know him saw it, he was surprised you agreed to his dream life so quickly. He expected some resistance, whether it was a tantrum during sex, yelling, crying. But what he didn't expect was you giving up so much easier.

Maybe you wanted to give him children. Maybe you finally made a conclusion Leon was the love of your life, even if you didn't want to admit it.

"Yeah? You want daddy's babies? Daddy will give it to you, baby." Leon smiled, guiding his hard cock in your slit before inserting it in a quick motion. You whined from the sudden stretch, not giving you time to adjust to his cock, Leon started moving at a quick pace.

"Daddy..." you whimpered as Leon changed his pace to a slower one. Giving you the sensation you didn't feel often, so full, so warm, so intimate.

Leon laid on the top of your back, stretching his arms next to your head and started going in again.

"Le-" you started before Leon opened his mouth.

"Who? What did you call me?" He muttered lifting your head by your tangled hair.

"Daddy" you whimpered as he let go of you. Soon a coel in your lower belly began to explode. As your hands clenched his biceps, Leon's left hand sneaked down to rub your clit.

"My poor baby" Leon whispered as your face fell down on the pillow after you cum. You didn't even have the strength to get up, all sweaty and tired from good breeding.

Leon felt his cock twitch inside your pussy, after a few deep pumps he came inside. His cum leaking from your hole, the man collected them with his index and middle finger before pushing it all back and licking his fingers.

"My baby. My sweet baby. Why aren't you eating anything? Daddy made you your favorite. See?" Leon signed, pushing your plate full of waffles and a strawberry shake.

"What did you do to do research papers?" You mumbled, playing with your fork. For the last few hours, you and Leon watched a documentary regarding scientists making new drugs. Even if you didn't want to remember, you were a good doctor. A great even. Your research could have saved millions of people's lives every year, not to mention the success you could have had.

"Why do you ask?" Leon narrowed his eyes, his tone slightly changing to a low grumpy one. He had hoped you forgot about your past life completely, but you didn't.

"The box. It... it's my research project... did you take it... with me?" You mumbled, staring at his blue eyes, searching for the truth.

"No," Leon simply shrugged. "I left it in the driveway."

This somehow made you feel relaxed, if you knew he brought it with me, then you would have wanted to read the papers once more. Now that you knew it was long gone, you could let go of yourself. Time to empty the vase to be filled again by a new identity.

But at the same time you felt empty. The new identity Leon was trying to pour in you was

"Eat baby. It's good for you and our future baby" Leon cooed again, stroking your belly.

"I'm not even pregnant," you snapped. Leon narrowed his eyes at you. You were being so good lately. You just had to ruin both of your happiness. If he lets go of his behavior without doing anything, the blonde was afraid you would go back in process, to the same old you when he first got you.

"But you will be. And we need to be prepared for it. Now eat." he commanded in a harsh tone.

You grabbed the plastic fork aside from the plate and started eating. You didn't understand yourself anymore. You were torn between wanting a peaceful, domestic life with Leon and your successful, prideful career where you could bet with anyone you could do complicated surgeries.

"Can I crochet?" You mumbled to him suddenly when you two were cuddling after sex. For the last few days, Leon and you were hitting it every day. Sometimes, multiple times a day. You knew what he was hoping for. Even though being a housewife seemed not too bad to you now, you knew having kids was not your thing.

You always felt annoyed and red-faced with kids. How were you going to have one of your own? With Leon out of all people?

"Crochet? Why?" Leon raised his eyebrows. He didn't know if it was a good idea to give you a metal hook. You could hurt yourself.

"I'm bored. I have nothing to do in a day, " you mumbled, sleepy.

Leon kissed the top of your head and played with a string before signing.

"I'll bring you the necessities... but you gotta promise me one thing." Leon muttered. "Promise daddy, you will follow my rules."

"Okay... I will, " you squeaked before his hands crept under the blanket to you.

Leon went shopping after work, buying a bunch of colorful cotton yarns along with a wooden hook. He figured if you actually tried to harm yourself or him, wood would be safer than metal.

The cashier girl recommended him to buy some eyes and polyester for plushies, which he bought without hesitating. Leon couldn't wait for you to see them and be excited.

The life Leon hoped for was finally working. Almost no one questioned your disappearance, thanks to your fake friends and family. You were starting to obey him, most importantly, fall for him.

The first night he had intimacy with you was something unpleasant. You cried, screamed, and cursed him. But now, by the way you moaned his name off your tongue and almost voluntarily gave him your cunt, Leon knew or at least hoped you were changing.

You were watching a cooking show on TV, you weren't sure how old this model was, but you could guess it was from the 90s. Small blurb screen with a bulky main body.

Leon didn't like the idea of you watching violent shows as he says. But all of them were normal TV shows people watched and enjoyed. Instead, he figured letting you learn to cook for him was better.

"Angel, I'm home," Leon yelled. Too bad you can't come to him since he always locks three doors to your room.

He smiled seeing you in front of the baby sitting like a good girl, doing exactly what he wanted you to do.

"Look at what I got you, baby. It's a reward for you. You were such a good girl. " He cooed, kissing your head quickly before you tried to pull away. Strangely, you always moved away when he kissed your head. It was almost like you had a sore wound on the top of it. You started digging into the paper bag he brought.

"You got this for me? As you promised?" You mumbled, playing with the soft yarn. It seemed like a great quality.

"Why not? You promised me you'll be a good girl. And you're being a good girl." he patted your head.

"Thanks."

"Thanks what?"

"Thanks, Daddy." You rolled your eyes as he turned away.

"You don't need the guidebook I brought you?" Leon raised a brow while looking at you, making granny squares.

"I was taught at school... I never forget what I learned, " you mumbled while crocheting.

"What are you planning to make with these?" The older man groaned, picking up a few pieces and observing you.

"I don't know... maybe a blanket?"

"A blanket? That's a great idea, baby. You can make that for our baby. It will be perfect. Maybe some darker color if it's a boy and lighter for a girl." Leon knelt down next to you and kissed you.

"I think it's enough for today, love. Don't wanna get my baby girl hurt." Leon said, grabbing the yarn and hook away from you before listing you up on the bed.

"This hobby of yours took enough attention from you. It's time for me now.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #re6 leon #older leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon #yandere #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil leon #resident evil smut

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frutigeraerosims · 6 months ago

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"A tropical ocean paradise loved by divers for its colorful coral and fish and more recently by scientists for its unique marine life. With plenty of large and small fish, this is an ideal diving location."

Hi, I’m Catherine and this is my first Sims 3 world! My intention was to create a smaller world that can be used to play the Island Paradise expansion pack in a more compact way. (It’s technically medium-sized, but a lot of that is water.) I based this world on the area of the same name in the game Endless Ocean: Blue World, granted with quite a lot of creative liberties taken. Gatama Atoll is situated in the fictional country of the Pelago Commonwealth, which is in Micronesia.

Isla Paradiso is stunning and there are great fixes out there, but I still prefer to play smaller worlds for the sake of performance and convenience. So here’s a small world meant for boats, houseboats, resorts, lifeguards, merfolk and of course diving!

While Gatama Atoll now features a town, the original area is still for diving, with 5 dive lots based on some of the areas in the game. On the islands surrounding the dive lots are small nature areas similar to those found in the original Gatama Atoll — you can find animals here.

Nearby is Nineball Island, a relaxing and homey place, ready for divers to move in and make it their hub of operations. This is also an area from Endless Ocean: Blue World.

The town features all the base game rabbit holes as well as a few community lots and the Festival Grounds, and empty lots for expansion. Additionally, there are houses situated right near the water, and ports for houseboats. The empty 64x64 lot is intended for you to build your own resort (or place one you downloaded), though of course you can place your resort elsewhere if you wish.

Like Isla Paradiso, Gatama Atoll has mysterious islands surrounded by fog, waiting for discovery. Only a few, though; one unlocked through diving, one through resorts, and one through lifeguarding (exact way to get each island will be included below).

Gatama Atoll requires Island Paradise, Seasons, Pets, and Sunlit Tides. I specifically made this world with blam’s ea store files, as my decrapped sims3packs did not work in CAW. Therefore, I believe this means you also need the Sunlit Tides store files to be non-decrapped in order to play this world. My recommendation is to just pick them up from blam.

This world definitely isn’t perfect, considering it was made by a complete novice. Here are some disclaimers:

The landscaping is relatively simple, both because of performance concerns and because I lack skill in this area.

The only lot I made is Nineball Island + I edited the houseboat. The other lots are all from Sunlit Tides or Isla Paradiso.

The world is also definitely on the smaller side and doesn’t have room for a lot of extra lots.

Also, you need to be farther out in the ocean to snorkel, you can’t be close to the beach.

The notifications when your sim levels up their diving skill are gonna say the Isla Paradiso diving spot names (e.g "Rocky Reef"), not the Gatama Atoll diving spot names. Please refer below for a proper guide on when you can access each diving spot.

This world was made in version 1.67 (Steam)

Required mods

NRaas register - with this mod, ban horses, unicorns, paparazzi and deer for a smoother experience. You don't want that stuff in this world.

Dive cave reset fix - I used one and only one dive cave in this world. With this mod, you need to reset that dive cave when you see it, just once. Please do not forget to reset the cave so that your sim doesn't get reset when trying to enter.

Interact on sloped terrain - The world is kinda curvy so I think having this is a good idea.

Recommended additions

Surf’s Up Sun and Fun Collection - so your sim can surf, and also have some cute CAS stuff.

Sun, Surf and Sand - cute beachy buildbuy stuff.

Island Villa - ditto^

Tiki dining room - tiki buildbuy stuff

Tiki living room - ditto^

Tiki outdoor living - ditto^

Yoga mod by twinsimming - for the tropical paradise zen.

Mermaid Power mod by xantak22 - improves mermaid gameplay.

4t3 Island Living conversions - look around for some if you need more buildbuy or clothes.

Feel free to do whatever you want with this world! I have no conditions. You’re welcome to tag me so I can see, too :)

Download 🐠

Notes

Here is when each dive spot is unlocked:

Atoll Gate: available at level 2 of the diving skill

Spring Garden: available at level 4 of the diving skill

Doughnut Reef: Available at level 6 of the diving skill

Blue Cliff: Available at level 8 of the diving skill

Cabbage Patch: Available at level 10 of the diving skill

Here is how to get each hidden island:

Diving island: At level 10 of the diving skill, explore the cave in Cabbage Patch. Reset the cave before going in.

Lifeguard island: Rescue 35 sims as a lifeguard.

Resort island: Have a 5-star resort.

#the sims #s3cc #sims 3 world #sims 3 caw #endless ocean #endless ocean blue world #sims 3 cc #sims 3 download #sims 3 #sims

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satubby · 5 months ago

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[Once upon a dream: Where you were happy]

As once in the dream, where you forgot your memories by my side, I will still be waiting for you, so please just don't forget who you were … My precious daughter of man - Malleus Draconia

[Disclaimer: This may contain errors so I'm sorry if they bother you or confuse you when reading. I didn't think this would be so long, I will finish part 3 in a few weeks. Thanks for your support, credits to the fanart I use, if I find their artists I'll post them.]

Morning was rising outside but the curtains cast shadows in your room, then the doors opened and the maids came into your room, they were all making as much noise as ever, you sigh exhaustedly refusing to look at them. "Come on princess, get up, today is your 16th birthday" One of them said, pulling you out of bed.

"I'm coming, I'm coming... It's too early for this" You sigh, getting up and heading to the powder room, you swallowed your bitterness smiling like the 'worthy and pretty princess' you were, then the maids. did their job starting to comb your hair. Your gaze was distant and you constantly clutched your dress, you were beautiful yes, but you honestly didn't care.

"Ouch, damn it" You whisper, feeling their eyes constantly on the back of your head.

"Watch your mouth princess" murmured one, they continued brushing your hair and making you presentable, they always made sure you looked good. As you sat there, the doors opened again and a tall figure walked in. It was the housekeeper serving the queen, she entered haughty and powerful, all the maids in your service began to murmur. "Please hurry princess, you wouldn't want to embarrass the emperor and empress, would you?"

You almost wanted to wring his neck but you knew better than to do stupid things. So you stood up without paying attention to his 'reprimand' and bowed your body politely, bowing your head as well, after all, you were a princess without any power.

"Yes, thank you for letting me know...I assure you I only wish the best for the kingdom and the imperial family" She looks you with that very, very stiff and bitter face. After that incident like every morning, you moved towards the emperor's castle because you lived in the empress castle, farther than any other room, you used to live in the basement where they put weapons and old stuff but it was something.

Walking down the hall, your arrival is announced, with trumpets and a red carpet. You know they're just pretending, no one gives a shit if you got in or not.

"ATTENTION!!! THIS IS THE INCOMING HEIR PRINCESS!" closing your eyes you enter with dignity as you were taught, you felt the pressure on your being before those judging eyes of the pompous nobles, so you tried not to look bad. Some looked at you with barely concealed disgust, others simply didn't look at you and the rest whispered like silly little birds cackling incessantly amidst rumors and gossip.

Your strides echoed with the sound of the floor as you walked towards the rulers of this place you hated to call home; the looks they gave you were either filled with disgust or filled with envy as they stepped aside to make way for you. The hall in front of you slowly filled with people after you walked away and approached the throne on the platform.

The emperor was sitting upright on his throne, next to him was the empress, looking majestic and presumptuous, as always. The empress smiled slightly as you knelt before them, both extended their hands waiting for a kiss from you, most of all it was the woman before you who gave you that silent command.

The empress stroked your hair with false kindness when you complied with her order, still with her smile on her face she continued to enjoy your humiliation, it disgusted you to look like a mere dog... And the emperor didn't even do anything, he never really cared about you.

"Happy sixteenth birthday my dear.... Now I hope you won't do anything to make us sad; or would you like to see her highness disappointed?" Her lips brushed your lobe warning you with sincere malice, then she walked away from you smiling as if nothing had happened, you didn't even react, you knew what she wanted, you wouldn't give her that.

"Thank you for- Your worries, your highness and beloved emperor.... I wish you good vibes and I hope you live long!" With those words, you forced a forced smile swallowing your little pride and the bile in your throat felt bitter. You sincerely praised yourself, since you were good at acting, you had to do it if you wanted to survive.

Again the emperor looked at you without interest and gave you permission to leave, so you did and like every year, you were alone on your birthday, the gifts were not really for you, much less was this party... And honestly you had long ago stopped giving it importance.

Once he gave you permission to leave, you could leave the throne room and get away from this heavy atmosphere that only made you feel sick and want to vomit because of so much hypocrisy in the air. Although before you managed to get out of sight you could hear the nobles start whispering and gossiping behind your back.

They were noisy, much louder than a rooster would be at morning crowing time, but what could you do? Nothing and just thinking about them gave you headaches. You continue down the halls, with a couple of maids walking behind you who don't care for you either. They never really liked you, so they just followed you as their job ordered, even you wouldn't want to be with yourself, you were a bitter mess.

"Please leave me alone, okay? I need air" You turned around stopping at the entrance towards a balcony. They look at you confused but they care so little about you that they better bow and leave, you on the other hand headed for the nearby balcony, stretching your legs and leaning your body against the marble railing.

Looking down at the ground, you let out sighs and snorts, then unleash your usual attitude of resignation and rebellion, only being alone you can say or do the little you can, the little freedom you had.

"Fuck those fucking nobles, I didn't even want to come— Fucking loudmouths, they're just vultures hoping I'm wrong, honestly... GO TO THE FUCK THEM ALL!! That fucking housekeeper, the emperor and the fucking empress!.... Anyway, I hope this day ends soon"

You let your head fall on your shoulders, looking resigned to your situation, you were sick of following these stupid rules. A lady doesn't do this, a lady doesn't do that— You are at your limit and yet you can only complain to yourself or suffer your punishments.

Your eyes unconsciously looked at parts of your body, you bit your lips in frustration.... Those scars still hurt, but you had to bear them because that made you a princess- Although honestly you always had that doubt, Did princesses really do that? In your stories it was something else. But laughing, remind yourself that they are just that, stories annnnd, since you were a child you didn't know who you were before coming here, you were always told what to say or do, as you were foolish and naive, you blindly followed in fear of that damned bitch of an empress.

You were the puppet in her theatrical play, used and punished if something didn't go her way. Sometimes you wanted to kill her, but you'd rather keep your neck in your body. No one would help a dirty blood like you, a stupid girl with no connection or power whatsoever plus your stupid insignificant elven powers weren't even strong you could only heal scrapes or make little lights because according to rumors; your dead mother wasn't a complete elf.

"These heels burn so much, maybe I should throw them away... But that damn woman will punish me if I do. It's a real shame my birthday sucks and the weather is so nice, which is ironic because I'm a mess."

You drop your body onto a nearby table, playing with your fingers, you didn't know at what point you started to fall asleep.

While you were dozing on that table, lost in a kind of dream, you began to feel like you were floating in the air, reality became a dream and vice versa. At some point you opened your eyes in a strange place, it was all white and there was only you, but your body was shining, as if the stars had given you their remains to make you shine.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the giggling of a little girl, a very familiar one, that hair and tattered clothes were familiar even though you couldn't see her face.

"Hello? ... How strange, I swore I heard something-"

You scratched your eyes thinking you were still hallucinating. You had just fallen asleep and didn't know how you got here.

"Haha... Nyum!"

There it was again, that childish giggle attracted you again, then turning towards where it came from, you saw a completely white silhouette standing in the middle of the void.

"Hey girl, what are we doing in this place and-? Wait!" You exclaimed starting to follow her, as she started to run, the emptiness started to change.

The more you ran, the more it changed, the ground felt soft as you now stepped on clouds. Tall mirrors filled your vision like a maze, then again you heard the girl's giggle.

"Haha! You can't catch me.."

Your eyes followed her silhouette in confusion, she was as energetic and elusive as... You, from childhood. You didn't know why, but you began to follow her, all these hallways of mirrors reflected both figures.

"Girl don't run! Ugh, just tell me what this place is, fuck I just wanted to sleep and I ended up here!"

Sighing tired from so much running, you stop to rest, however something caught your attention; some mirrors were worn or broken, others simply had nothing to reflect.

And the farther away you went the darker this place became, you two glowed as the darkness swallowed you. Then you see her entering a specific mirror, it was full of thorns and wilted roses, this place was silent, her giggling stopped being heard, slowly you went towards that mirror.

"That girl- How strange, she took me all this way just to see this mirror?"

You whisper without understanding this strange dream, if it was one to begin with.

So lost were you in your thoughts, that you don't even notice when your hand goes through the mirror and you are swallowed by it, unlike others, this mirror is dark as much as the the glass it was made of as its withered wooden frame.

Screaming as you fall, you feel the air seep into your tresses shaking and making a mess of it, your dress suddenly changed as you landed in a brutish thump.

With pain in your body, you slowly got up spitting grass, that strange fall made you feel like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. Slowly you could stand up on your own feet, you were without shoes which seemed strange but what did you expect? This dream is strange in itself.

"I must stop getting so much in my head— come to think of it, where did that mirror take me?"

You turned around looking at your surroundings, however the girl glimpsed out of the corner of your eye again, laughing at you and making you angry.

"HEY COME BACK HERE YOU SHATTERING BRAT!"

Now you felt like the empress every time you yelled at the silhouette. Fuck! Some habits stick with people.

She kept running into the mist of this dark forest, with you following behind her, the branches on your feet and the wildlife of the place making you scrape, but it didn't matter. You wanted to know how to get out of this place.

"Jijiji! I'm faster than you..." Whispered the brat, her silhouette running and when you finally came out of the dark forest, the light filled her eyes blinding you. When the effect passed, you stopped thinking for an instant, this whole place was magnificent and magical, but the girl was gone.

In its place, the vast tulip field filled your view, in the middle of it and far away on the hill, lay a beautiful oak tree the size of the most pompous castle presumably held by royalty.

Mesmerized by this magnificence, you walked down the hill, it was a few more meters but something guided you to the oak tree. The closer you got, you heard a deep and melancholic voice singing.

Its beautiful whistling caught your attention, the closer you got the better you saw someone's back and— That little girl sitting next to her.

Never thought that you would be Standing here so close to me There's so much I feel that I should say But words can wait until some other day

Both were relaxing on a chair made of wood and flowers as a handle, the stranger kept singing; for some reason his voice gave you a familiar but pleasant peace, you didn't know why or how, but you keep watching them swinging.

It's been a long, long time Haven't felt like this, my dear Since can't remember when It's been a long, long time You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you Or just how empty they all seem without you

The wind was blowing away the colorful petals of the field full of those tulips, you standing still in the tall grass, mesmerized by the whistling of that stranger, still looking at the girl, they seemed so comfortable with each other.

It's been a long, long time It's been a long, oh long time

And then that song stopped, breaking like a spell as well as your illusion, for just as the figure turned, his face could not be seen for he silenced you, causing thousands of tulips to cover your vision.

"WAIT PLEASE! Who are you—"

With an abrupt silence, you were left in the emptiness of before, broken glass halves scattered on the floor surrounded your feet, the girl was gone, only you and that hall of mirrors remained.

Sighing, you pick up several pieces and your fragmented reflection looks back at you.

Your thoughts stop when you feel someone pull you out of that place and your eyes open as you feel the pain of a slap. Your eyes immediately went to those responsible for that: The maids in the service of the empress, who don't even look sorry for having done such a thing.

"Hey, you know you shouldn't sleep like that in public, you should be ashamed of yourself? What if the nobles gossip about you? hahahahaha."

You clutched your reddish cheeks due to the hard slap, you growl silently wanting to do something but you just bit your lip in anger and swallowed it with 'dignity', which was the only thing you really had left; nothing belongs to you nor did anyone in this palace seem to take your position seriously.

You are just an ornament for the empress and a sack of potatoes for others to vent their frustrations. You had nowhere to go, if you left they would surely kill you, because the dirty blood should not live.

"Please, couldn't you be less rude, Tsk! If you were seen slapping me, wouldn't you go unpunished? I'm still the emperor's daughter. It's frowned upon for a commoner to hit a noble, let alone royalty like me" You sneered with measured sarcasm, if they wanted to pull shit against you, you'd mess with them, it's all or nothing.

Your joke made them turn pale, the other maid behind gasped and took a step back. The one who slapped you swallowed as she quickly pulled herself together. They did not want the wrath of the empress if such rumors began to circulate, their necks, and perhaps yours, would roll.

"You should be grateful princess because I have not yet reported your attitude to our noble empress, be good and we can forget about this incident" They said with a smile on their faces, the other nodded his head as the speaker held his face confidently, as if he had all the power in the situation, but his eyes reflected the fear and falsity of his words.

If they did that, they would pay more than you, a simple spanking would not be mere punishment for commoners like them, on the contrary for you, who you would be 'disciplined' for your indecency as a noble,

However, you were interrupted by the empress's housekeeper (that damned boot-licking spy) She advanced towards you and all the maidens present bowed in fear, the two in front of you also trembled.

"Now ladies don't make a fuss in the middle of the balconies and princess let's avoid making a fuss, please if you are not going to do anything at the party then go back to your room. As for you as maids, you have permission from the empress to discipline her, but don't overdo it..." She looked at you with cold condescension, as if she were superior. Biting your lips, you force a smile crumpling your dress in anger but swallow it all, smiling politely and standing up, wiping your dress and bowing.

"Thank you, I will follow that sage advice, as you always know what to do, with your permission." Annoyed and frustrated once again, you left in anger and your footsteps echo loudly through the empty corridors of this place, listening to the maids laughing at you, as always.

Those damn maidservants, they always had something to say, didn't they? Laughing and talking behind your back every chance they got. Then there were those damn nobles, they were all the same, looking down on you. They always had something to comment on, whether it was your looks, your status or how you behaved. In the end you were just a trophy to them. A princess just to show off, nothing more.

Your thoughts were diverted by the sounds of the party, soon the second waltz would begin. But even if you were to go there, you would not be welcome, which is silly and ironic because this party is for you but no one actually congratulates you, the bitch empress steals every birthday you had, only to receive praise for her benevolence towards you... A bastard with dirty half elven blood.

"Phew, at least this day is winding down."

You sighed again as you vaguely thought about your dream, but you were more curious about that stranger, you didn't understand why he sent you back to reality, nor did you know why that girl led you there. In the end you walked down the hallway ignoring the lights and the drunks, it was like that every year, just nobles inflating their egos and gossiping behind each other's backs.

Hallways full of drunks were nothing new to you. Every year the parties ended the same as the others, with drunks and gossiping nobles. You couldn't wait for it to end, you always found it exhausting and annoying. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway with all these drunken fools around you... Surely there were some fucking and eating with lust around.

"Hello princess!"

A voice called out behind you, one you sadly recognized from all the years you had lived in the palace living with the nobles.

The stupid, disgusting son of Marquis Duboff, that dog rather than a man, always insisted on touching you and then complained when you refused. Snarling at fate, you tried to run away from him but he grabbed your hand and cornered you on the wall almost going out to the stairs. "Come on princess! Don't be like that, the other time I saw you flirting with other men, maybe the little slut can't help strutting around and wanting to fuck cock? You can't fool me, I know you like it—!"

Drunk breath filled your nose, you wanted to vomit. His smell and everything about him disgusted you, so when he held your wrists, you kicked him in his private parts, you were irritated beyond belief.

"Tsk! When are you going to understand that I HATE YOU? You're a garbage existence, so.... If you'll excuse me, m-a-r-q-u-i-s!" With those words, you fixed your dress, you could be cheeky and follow orders for your own survival... However, you weren't going to play along with his games, that human excuse was a stubborn and pathetic being because you didn't want to call him a man when the vacancy was too big for him.

This one knocked you down putting his hands in your hair, you in defense tried to shake him off but in the end between pulls, he knocked you down hitting you in the face and calling you an ungrateful bitch.

The blow threw you to the ground and to the side, sending you stumbling into a wall, you almost died if you fell badly down the stairs. You clutched your cheek as a groan of pain escaped you and, of course, the pathetic bastard was still standing there mockingly.

"You're not going anywhere princess, even though you act like an ungrateful bitch...I'm sure you'll soon come to your senses when you see that I can be gentle..."

He sneered at you as he looked down at you from his elevated position holding an entire bottle of wine. His smile grew as he took a step closer to you, striding over and drinking.

Then he started fighting you when you pushed him back wanting to leave, and he had the audacity to call you a spoiled brat, when IN YOUR LIFE! You've had some of that, anything you wanted was squashed and used as an excuse to make you less or crush your spirit.

"STUPID BITCH!", you hear him yell as you poked his eye with your fingernails, in an attempt to stop him from taking your clothes off. He finally smashes the bottle on your head, making you blurry and blood dripping from your wound.

You couldn't stand it any longer and you ran away crying, not out of sadness or helplessness (maybe it was that, but you would never say it out loud) but mostly it was rage, pure and undiluted. You felt pathetic, a fragile doll that broke for someone else's enjoyment.

"Fuck all of you... Ick! You guys are assholes" You clench your fists drawing blood from your wound with a torn piece of cloth from your now torn dress and head to your room, well, those fancy furnishings and decor really couldn't be called a room, it wasn't yours to begin with, just a guest room modified to mimic that of a room for royalty.

Still, you decided it was better to go to your old, dirty and abandoned 'room', which was just the basement where they kept junk and rusty weapons. As you enter, you close the door, dropping into a crouch and hugging your legs, enclosing your face in your dress breaking that elegant facade into sadness and anger.

You were exhausted and tired, very tired of everything, of everyone. Running away from the damn marquis, from the empress, from the nobles. You just wanted to be free, to be happy and find a place to just... be, instead of being a princess forced to live in a damn box and be judged or belittled for every little action.

Sighing as you sat there in that dusty old room, tears streaming down your face as you hid in your dress, you continued to wander in your thoughts. You felt alone, cut off from anything good or happy in this damned place, if there was any happiness in the falsehood of nobility to begin with.

Your snot was running from your nose, your makeup was smeared and you didn't care at the time, you just wanted it all to be over. Sometimes you were angry at your dead mother, you blamed her for your useless elven blood running through your veins. You would even cut yourself to try to get it out and stop being a dirty blood, but all you get were injuries with punishments from the empress, you honestly don't know when was the last time you smiled or if you ever did,

You wanted to keep hating her, she's a mother who never saw you grow up, but you didn't want to be like them, just another human, someone who pretends and discriminates against others just because. It would be hypocritical of you to do so, but sometimes you just want to scream and hate them freely, but it's stupid to do that and you just put your anger aside.

"It's useless, everything is the same every year, what did I expect this time? Mother, is my existence wrong? They just use me and throw me away when I'm not useful. I'm getting tired, how much longer can I go on with this performance?" You cried rubbing your eyes and wiping your smeared makeup with your dress, it was ruined anyway.

Your eyes wandered around the room, looking at old dusty furniture and consumed by time, now they are blurred memories. If you think about it, in the past for some reason, you used to write letters to someone, hoping they would take you away from this place, but those hopes are ephemeral like happiness.

You continued to sit there and cry, your feelings of hopelessness and anger pouring out. The makeup on your face was ruined, but you didn't care, it would be just another reason for the empress to call you a savage, mocking you.

The zero memories of your childhood or the existence of your mother, your life here, everything came over you. It was very hard to face it all, very hard to hold out hope for any kind of happiness for yourself. After all, you were nothing more than a princess in a cage.

For a moment, the sensation you felt in that dream made you think of the stranger, and the memory came to mind, the magical and serene sight. It is contrary to how you felt now.

The moonlight illuminated the old dusty room, your eyes for some reason went to the old table, many broken drawings on it, for a moment you saw yourself as a child writing right there, however something blinded you like a light in your eyes. Curious you get up going to the table, the last time you were here living and sleeping you were exactly 11 years old, so you had left everything the same as when you left.

"What the hell—?" Your gaze went to the pieces of paper, then moving them you coughed through the dust that was released after years in neglect and, shaking it with your hand— A strange piece black as darkness received you, the one that has accompanied you in your life since you are conscious until you forgot it, and if not for today you would still be in oblivion of its existence.

Then, when you took it, an energetic discharge came from the tip to your head, giving you headaches and like a vague memory, you were pulled towards that vision, but it was blurred, what you knew was that you were in a forest. Your hands were small but you did not control this memory and this childish body.

Your ears perked up as you heard your own voice laughing, but it sounded more animated. Sometimes you think the current you is so different from your childhood self, less bitter and miserable.

"M■□ll■s-sama, it's unfair that you always let the human win!"

Another voice interrupted your diatribe and in turn you recognized that it was male, of course with a youthful and scandalous touch. A familiar laughter made you open your eyes in this dream(?), then that stranger whose name you did not fully understand, answered the other man, strangely you did not see who they were, because in this memory you were still hiding behind a tree.

"S□b■k, don't be hard on her, besides I don't want to make her feel bad, my ■□■■■□ is important" Your giggles kept coming out as your eyes made you expectant in this strange dream, just sharing vision with this uncontrolled childish body. The strangers behind the tree, shrouded in mystery, continue to argue.

'What are they talking about?'

You thought to yourself, not your dream self, just your current self. Strangers are still looking for you, you looked like you were 5 years old by the size and high pitched giggles you let out. And that was before you came to the palace, what was not clear to you about this situation and your past self which you didn't remember much, so you are not understanding anything.

The two voices kept talking as the you in this memory peeked out for seconds, unable to really see their faces due to the speed at which you were hiding. You were looking from your childhood perspective, hiding in a tree and laughing to yourself, it all seemed less difficult if you thought about it. The other two males seemed to be looking for you, still arguing as they looked around the area.

Your childhood self seemed cheerful, again you wondered if she was really you or if she was just a past fragment. You looked happy, as if you were having fun playing some kind of game with these strange men. What were they talking about, and why did it seem so familiar, you didn't know, but it hurt your chest to hear yourself laugh.

Since you came to the palace the childish games were over; so seeing this broke you in a certain way. Then you felt big hands taking the shoulders of your childish self, you laughed and named the stranger, but again the seemingly important words or names were cut off and erased, fragments remained of that stage of yours, which you did not know.

"T■un□■ta□■u! hehehe you found me.... You were 3 seconds faster, though it's unfair because S■b□k always complains" Your words and voice were lively, sweeter and in comparison to the bitter words for this life you were leading. The stranger whose face was covered by the sunlight because you were in his arms, his shadowed face looked at you, his fanged lips smiled at you.

His fangs glistened as a smile broke out on his face, laughing at your childish words. His voice was soft and warm, but no less gravelly and elegant, almost like the glow of the incandescent sun on you in the dream.

"You were well hidden, I could hardly find you. But I know your usual hiding places, little ch□■dr□n ■□ m■n." He said with lightness in his voice. One of his big hands moved to stroke your head, tousling your hair as he said this. Even though it was hidden behind the blinding light of the sun, you could still make out its outline....

It had a rather strange silhouette, horns coming out of its head and long wings behind it, something you only saw in forbidden books.... A dragon, but it didn't make sense that it was humanoid.

In fact this whole situation confused you, unfortunately you came back to reality when the darkness swallowed you and you fell to the ground with a sharp blow, the dragon's scale no longer shining as brightly as before. You got up carefully, you were a mess in every sense of the word if you looked at yourself in a mirror.

Picking that thing up carefully, you wonder if this is what made you see that. Are those your memories from when you weren't here? But it didn't make sense, the empress said she found you with two elderly brothers who were farmers, so why - why were you having these weird flashbacks?

You sat on the old bed, holding the dragon scale in your hand and looking at it. Your head was throbbing and your thoughts were a mess. That vision... it was so vivid, like a memory... But how could it be a memory? You come from those farming families, the empress herself had said so... Though knowing her character, she could lie to you as she did about your mother's death.

Those two men in the vision, you couldn't make out any details about them. But why did you feel so close to him in that dream? Besides you had already seen him when you fell asleep on the balcony, is everything connected...?

"Phew, I better go or I might get punished... But I can't leave this here, if they come to clean up, which is rare, they might see it, maybe I should take everything left of this old place" You put the dragon scale in your secret pocket inside your breasts, just when you were about to leave, you also saw the letters hidden under so much trash and dust. Some were torn and some were stained with ink.

Your look is nostalgic, really when you were a simple and silly girl you didn't know how to hide things. So you took them, on your way out you took caution in looking both ways down the dark subway corridor and when you saw the shores clear, you left.

You exited the subway, making sure that no one was there, before leaving. As you did so, you returned to your room as quietly as possible. You hoped that the party was over and everyone was too drunk to notice your absence...

As you walked through the halls, your mind kept thinking about that memory, if it was one. You had so many questions about it, about your past self and who you really were before you turned 6. It was so clear, so real... But who were they? What if... Was it all a strange fantasy of yours? Now you have a faint fragment of hope in you, even if it's vain and selfish.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the empress waiting for you in your room, you panicked hiding the old letters and anything suspicious, she looked at you with false elegance and the lunar shadow did not help your fear to diminish.

"W-what are you doing here? I thought you were with the emperor"

You whisper avoiding looking at her, she stood up, unaware that there was your faithful maid. A maid who barely entered months ago and quickly befriended you with insistence; but that doomed her like many. Now she's dead on the floor, again you lost another ally, though you tried to prevent anyone from coming to you, trying to be nice when you couldn't afford that, it's a weakness the empress would exploit.

Said woman continued to look at you with a cold stare, the false elegance on her face unchanged.

"Watch your tone of voice, princess." He said in a cold voice. His cold green eyes scanned you, observing your ragged and disheveled appearance with an almost mocking look on his face.

"I heard about what happened between you and the marquis earlier, my dear." You swallowed bile cursing everyone and her for that false sweetness in her voice. She took a step towards you and her tone quickly changed to a higher pitched one.

"You know how much I despise it when you embarrass me like that."

Her hands went to your bare, messy shoulders, your hair was ragged and that only added to her condescending tone, mocking your messy appearance. You bit your lips, she knew everything, she always does. You're more sure that damn dog Duboff made a fuss complaining about you, you just expected the worst in situations like that.

"W-what's wrong with it, Your Highness? I only defended myself, or are you afraid of rumors? For example... That you don't take good care of me, and even if I AM THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER! You still treat me badly-" Her nails finished digging into your skin as a warning but you were so fed up that you continued.

"And yes I did, I don't give a damn anymore anyway, that dog deserved it! He's a scumbag, he wanted to abuse me, hahaha you don't even care about my image, only yours and your ego-Urgh!" A slap echoed in the empty room. The empress snarled with a contorted face, you laughed internally as you watched her lose her composure, she was a fucking bitch to you.

It was quite satisfying to see the empress lose her composure in this way. Her face contracted in anger, a complete contrast to her normally reserved and cold demeanor. She had just slapped you, leaving a red mark on your cheek.... but you couldn't help but laugh at this. Seeing her lose control like this was almost funny.

The empress snarled at your laughter, the anger and irritation clear on her face. She moved closer to you, grabbing your hair and tugging on it.

"How dare you talk to me like that... You're a dirty bastard blood!"

The empress's face was now contorted with anger, frustration and humiliation. After all, how dare you speak to her like that, especially at a party meant to celebrate her benevolence? You should thank her for even existing, but here you were like a brazen rat.

"You ungrateful, insolent bitch!" She spat, tugging at your scalp and grabbing your cheeks hard so you could look her in the eye.

"How dare you speak to me like that, I who have given you everything! Your position as princess, your meals, your clothes, let it be clear to you that you are inferior to me, without my help the emperor wouldn't care about you!"

"... I didn't want to be this! Do you know how many nights I starved to death just because you and those maids wanted me to? You don't know anything, my life is not really mine but I'm running out of patience, even when I wanted to run away, you didn't let me... I begged you, but no more!"

"You're a-" Her hand reached up to hit you again but when you tried to pull away she only abused you more until it hurt all over, then complained about your rebelliousness and savagery.

He continued to prattle on about your insolence, debating whether he should kill you or not, but decided to leave, only punishing you by locking you in the room and ordering that no one was to come in or go out to feed you for a week.

You got up when she left, she might as well kill herself and you wouldn't care. After a while, you changed your clothes after a relaxing and decent bath, no insults or dirty water. You were self-sufficient enough, since you were treated like a maid when you first arrived, you did everything.

At the end of the night you lay staring at the letters on your bed, those letters written by you that for some reason you don't quite remember why you did it. "Ahh... what a day this was."

You were left in your room, alone once again. The empress had left you with a burning cheek and a week of hungry solitary confinement. But it didn't matter, you were used to it.

With slow steps to the bed, you plopped down on the bed and then settled in, your eyes drifting to the old letters scattered on the bedspread. They were written in childish scribbles, but somehow they had some meaning. Why did you write this? And to whom? You had long forgotten the reasons behind it... You had priorities, like not dying for that woman's whims.

With nothing to do, you decided to read them, starting with the one with the oldest date and paper. The letter began somewhat disorganized, it read like this:

March 23, first date of the solar calendar. 'It happened again today, I miss you Tsunotarou so much..... Mairy yelled at me again, you know, I know I'll never give you these letters but I hope someday to see you so I can read them for you, although I think it's more for convenience. Nobody wants me here, I shouldn't have run away from home, Uncle Lilia was right. Humans are not the same, much less easy to understand. They are like me, physically they are but they don't act like I thought they would. Everyone says I'm a dirty blood worse than a commoner, Sebek was right when he said we are bad, but I'm not like that.

Your expression softened but mostly out of confusion and the feeling that comes from reading this. So that's what the nickname you were talking about in the dream was... That silhouette was Tsunotarou? You didn't know but your head hurt thinking about it and even for some reason you got stuck trying to say that nickname, but still you continued reading.

April 16 of the solar calendar 'I'm very sad, I hardly remember Uncle Lilia anymore, I'm very afraid. Tsunotarou... what if I forget you too? I don't want that, so I'll keep writing letters, so maybe my adult self will read them, I hope everything gets better, because today they made me mop the floor and the housekeeper punished me for something I didn't do. The older maids threw water and cow dung on my floor, when I had already cleaned it, I really want to come back to you Tsunotarou'.

Your expression became somewhat inexplicable, you felt the tears fall again for no apparent reason, you did not understand this feeling. Perhaps compassion for your previous innocent self, who was hurt and crushing your spirit to become what you are today.

The cards only continued to get worse. Your past self was young and innocent, so full of optimism and hope, but instead was only met with suffering. She was treated like dirt, forced to do tasks she wasn't cut out for, and others around her bullied her...and no one did anything to stop it. Your heart ached as you read the letter from your past self, and tears streamed down your face as you read it.

You clenched the letter tightly in your hand, your heart felt heavy in your chest... You didn't know if you wanted to keep reading because you were honestly so devastated by the constant abuse you've normalized, but reading all this just makes you feel sorry for yourself.

Still, you catch a glimpse of one letter in particular lying on the corner of your bed, it's crumpled and musty as if it had been wet. Trembling you pick it up reading it and it just opens up another memory you had blocked out for yourself.

XX December of ... ??? 'Tsunotarou... I no longer remember why or why I am writing this, who are you, that I am writing this to you? I don't know, maybe it was all a dream and you, Tsunotarou whoever you are, don't exist. Last week I was caught trying to escape, but I don't remember the reason for it. Honestly it's all confusing so I'll stop writing these meaningless letters. I just know I've been hiding them, so I have to respect that about myself.... Well, this is goodbye.

Now you remember! This is the last letter you wrote, you only know you finished it because of the first line, that nickname, you wrote it weeks before and you don't remember much. Suddenly your head starts to hurt and you get a lot of cut memories that make you cry in pain.

As you read that last letter, you were hit with a flood of memories. They came back vividly, but it was still a little fuzzy in your mind.

You remembered why you wrote the letters. You were writing to him, that man you played with in the woods in your dream. You remembered him... and you remembered his nickname. Tsunotarou. Even the mere thought of it made your head throb. But as the memories slowly came back, you couldn't help but sob at the truth of all the events and the realization of it.

What little you know of this is due to the only clues you had. With determination, you were determined to seek the truth behind your whole life and your lost happy childhood, so these days where the empress locked you up, you would flee through the secret corridors you had discovered in this room since you lived in it.

Wandering the aisles of the library in the middle of the night, you were looking for books on magic or creatures of that kind, which were burned years ago by the wars, it was hard to find them.

Despite feeling so tired, your heart was beating with determination. You knew you had to find the answers behind everything. It was time for you to find out the truth about your past and the real reason why you were here. You had so many questions running around in your mind....

But it was already late and you could already feel the tiredness invading your body after searching the library, so you walked with your books in hand through the corridors until you reached your room. With a tired sigh, you lay down on your bed, thoughts still running through your head as you slowly drifted off into an intermittent sleep...

And so for the rest of the week, you went to the basement to see if there was anything else but there was not. Then you rummaged through the housekeeper's room finding the strange bag that you now had in your room, in front of you.

There was a strange old stuffed animal, some exotic flowers you didn't know about, a map crumpled and yellowed from years but most surprising were the many dragon scales in a jar.

This was definitely yours, but why would you have this here? It didn't make sense and besides there were 2 books downstairs, one had drawings of 4 men, three of them with pointed ears and one was like the silhouette in your dream, with horns.

The other was a human like you but wore a uniform; also, the second book had strange spells in it. The spell book was like the few pieces of page you found in the library on the hidden side. Thoroughly checking between pages, you saw a piece of paper with something written on it, there was also a drawing made by you most likely, underneath the apparent lullaby.

Something about the drawing of the horned man seemed strangely familiar to you, though you didn't know why. Maybe there was a connection between him and that man in your dream... Curious, you read the writing on the paper, although due to the bad handwriting and scribbles on it, it was difficult to read.

You let go of the paper from your hands because your head started to hurt, a male voice echoed in your erased memories. It was a quiet place, a comfortable bed and finally you saw black tinted lips and fangs, he sang you that song but again, his face was blurred.

You gripped the paper once again tighter, your head throbbing from the strange memory that came over you. The memory was fuzzy, but it was still clear enough that you could make out the vague silhouette of a man, fangs and lips tinged with black. He was singing that song to you, his voice soft and comforting.

Te agarraste la cabeza, tratando de recordar más, pero el dolor de cabeza sólo pareció empeorar. ¿Por qué tus recuerdos volvieron repentinamente a ti una vez más, y fue realmente Tsunotaoru, el hombre que te parecía tan familiar...? No lo sabías así que simplemente te volviste a dormir, cayendo profundamente

The breeze on your face welcomes you back, dazed you open your eyes seeing that you were now on a marble table near the oak tree. Confused you wake up and this time you see that you are not a teenager, more like a girl, this confuses you a lot.

Walking aimlessly, you hear in the distance in the same oak tree or further on, in the tulip field, someone singing, that same song you read in that paper.

I know you I walked with you once in a dream I know you That look in your eyes is such a familiar gleam. And I know it's true, that visions are rarely what they seem.

The tune was different, but undoubtedly it is the same voice and the same place as when that little girl in the dream led you there, the same person singing that lullaby.

But I know you I know what you will do You will love me once and for all As you once did in a dream

You kept moving forward, the smell of flowers filled your nose and as if taking the place of the girl who you assume is your inner self, you continue moving towards the figure on the hill, standing among so many flowers looking at the sun.

But I know you I know what you do You love me at the same time As you once did in a dream I know you I walked with you once in a dream

The wind was soft and cool against your skin as you walked through the tulip field. The sweet smell of flowers filled the air and the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the surroundings. As you continued walking, you heard that familiar song echoing in the air.

"Who are you really?" you whisper in that childish little voice, this time you control this body and even if you expected an answer, there is only silence.

The closer you got, the more your heart pounded in your chest. And then, you finally saw it: a tall horned figure standing a few feet away from you.

Something in his majestic, magical and calming presence made you cry. At this moment you became a little girl taking the place of your inner self, now you just wanted to hug that man and run in his arms, like a game.

"Tsunotarou... that's what your name is?" those simple words made the horned figure look at you, with a slow step he walked up to you bending down to look at you.

The stranger smiled at you as he bent down to your level. He gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, his gaze warm and affectionate.

"Yes, it's me" he whispered in response.

"I have missed you so much." This time your inner self spoke for you, since you wouldn't be able to understand its identity or the feelings it provokes in you, but you don't want to push it away either.

The man dressed in black hugged you tightly, squeezing you close to his chest. It was a protective embrace and you could feel the love and affection in his touch.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted to see you again, the clues I left you in your dreams, do you still have doubts my little girl?"

You nodded as you let yourself be carried by him, all your stress or bitter attitudes gone. There is only you and that lost innocence.

"Sorry if I don't understand anything, it's just that I forgot you and that frustrates me" This time you spoke from your heart, with the truth. Without lying to anyone much less yourself and he seemed to understand.

"Everything will have an answer, but I've missed you too, I can't be near you because I wouldn't know how to control myself, I may lose control if I see you more than I should" His whispers sounded melancholy and plaintive, but deep down his tone threatened to overflow into madness and rage.

"Then why didn't you come for me? I don't remember but I feel like I sink into a sadness thinking about you" This time he kept silent, his face you couldn't see but you felt the tension in his body.

"...There were reasons beyond my power that prevented me from that, besides if I went after you I could have accidentally killed you in my rage looking for you."

Despite his words you felt disappointed with him, you still decided not to hate him, you didn't want to be a bad person, no matter how bitter you were.

"I understand... But could you answer me something, why don't I remember you well? I know you had something to do with me however, I don't remember, much less know who I was before what I am now."

The strange man again took your face in his hands and you saw why you couldn't see him, there was a mist blurring his face.

"I don't think it's time yet, but I assure you that in a few weeks you will know... Until then, I will see you and answer your questions, my little daughter of man. Because we saw each other in a dream-"

You wanted to keep asking but he kissed your forehead and you fell into a dream within your dreamlike sleep, finally waking up hyperventilating.

"... Fuck I couldn't ask him his real name."

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mingi-s-dimples · 17 days ago

Text

Scented Shadows - Wooyoung

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - REQ. BY @la-undercover-latina

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DEAR LOVE AND READERRRRR IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAYYY HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY ^^ (on 26th october, idk if it's still 26th for you or not 😞)

~"Werewolf!Wooyoung can smell your heat coming before you know. And he doesn’t have any plans of you leaving his side during your heat."

pairing: werewolf!wooyoung x half human/half werewolf fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth, werewolf au

summary: I don't even know what to write bro.. let's just say that your boyfriend senses your heat moments before you do and well... he fucks you *senselessly*.

wc: 4.4k

warnings: pureblood werewolf!wooyoung, cocky wooyoung, he kinda teases the hell out of reader, fingering, finger-fucking, tying up her hands to the headboard, manhandling at it's finest, did I say he's cocky?, monster cock wooyoung agenda (obvi, he's a werewolf), lots of cummm, two rounds and *def* implied multiple next rounds, fucking against the wall, ass slapping & squeezing, overstim, orgasms (both m&f), slight possessiveness, at first he's really sweet and all about her first heat around him but uhm he's Wooyoung so expected the unexpected, making out, biting, marking, breast fondling, slight nipple sucking, he's so damn talkative I'm going insane, unprotected, completely consensual, unedited, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: *wooyoung brainrot* please. I went *insane* writing this. I don't even have words to explain how many *horny* breaks I had to take because it turned me the fuck on while writing? Anyways, @woolysium , you might enjoy this too ^^ you'll see it when you'll wake up 😭😭 I can't wait to see your reaction (3:24am for me, 8:24 am for her as we speak). As for you, my dear love, @la-undercover-latina , I hope you'll enjoy this lil fic for your birthday ^^. I had fun writing it, hihi 🤍 Happy birthday once again and.. enjoy !!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The dim glow from the TV cast flickering shadows across Woooyoung's sharp features, his warm hand resting on yours, and his other draped over the back of the couch. You felt so safe beside him, nestled in a cocoon of blankets, his heat and presence a comfort. The movie played on, though you hadn’t been paying much attention to it, stealing glances at him every few minutes. It felt like you’d finally found a moment of peace, a moment that felt untouched by the usual chaos that came with being half-werewolf, half-human. With Woooyoung, you could forget that you were anything but his.

You settled in closer, the cozy room filled with nothing but the hum of the TV and his occasional laugh or quiet, whispered comment, always managing to bring a smile to your face. It was so effortless, so natural, being around him. As much as Woooyoung had a reputation for his playful mischief, there was a seriousness, a depth in the way he cared for you that caught you off-guard sometimes. He had always been protective, a pureblood with instincts that ran deep, strong and unmistakable—yet he’d shown nothing but patience and care for your half-blood nature, never letting it matter more than the person you were. He was your haven in ways no one else could be.

But then, all of a sudden, you felt the shift. Woooyoung's hand tightened around yours, his thumb slowing as it traced gentle circles on your knuckles. His gaze, once relaxed and lazy as he watched the movie, suddenly sharpened, an intense focus clouding over his usually warm eyes. You blinked, unsure if you were imagining it, but you felt the change ripple through him—a silent charge in the air that prickled over your skin, setting your pulse racing before you even understood why.

“Woo?” you murmured, nudging his shoulder lightly, hoping to bring him back to the moment.

He turned to you, his eyes holding a glint that hadn’t been there before, something deep, primal, and entirely possessive. You felt his gaze sweep over you, an almost hungry intensity that seemed to unnerve him just as much as it did you. It was then that you realized the warmth spreading through you, a heat unfurling from somewhere deep inside, slowly overtaking your senses. It was subtle, creeping up on you like the steady build of a storm on the horizon. The realization struck hard, a mixture of shock and nerves that made your cheeks burn.

Your heat.

This was the first time it had happened around Woooyoung, and you weren’t even sure how to process it. As a half-werewolf, your cycles had always been unpredictable, never quite like those of full-blooded wolves, but now there was no denying the signs—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled, and every sense seemed to be dialed up to ten. It was unmistakable, and judging by Woooyoung’s expression, he had picked up on it before you even had.

“Woooyoung, it’s fine,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, though you could hear the tremor in it. “Really. I can handle this.”

But he didn’t move, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your flustered expression. “Can you?” he asked softly, his voice a rougher, deeper rumble than usual. “Because from where I’m sitting… it doesn’t seem like you should be handling this alone.”

There was no mistaking the edge in his voice, an unmistakable possession, a fierceness that seemed to run far deeper than his usual protectiveness. He was close now, his hand moving from yours to gently cup your jaw, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was warm, grounding, but you could feel the restraint there, the careful control that kept him from holding you tighter, pulling you closer.

“Woooyoung,” you whispered, trying to keep the tension at bay. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think I’d be… around you when it happened.” Your voice faltered, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.” He tilted your chin up, his gaze unrelenting, filled with a determination that made your heart skip a beat. “This is your first heat with me around, isn’t it?” he asked, though it was more a statement than a question. His jaw clenched, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his gaze that made your breath catch.

“Yes…” you managed, the word barely a whisper.

He nodded, a satisfied sound rumbling from him as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “I thought so. I could tell something was different tonight.” His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair in a way that was as much comfort as it was claim. “And you think I’d just leave you to handle this on your own?” he asked, his voice laced with a quiet intensity that sent warmth pooling through you.

“No, but…” You tried to hold onto some semblance of control, to keep things from spiraling into uncharted territory. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He let out a low chuckle, a sound so full of warmth and affection that it sent a shiver through you. “Trust me, the only thing that makes me uncomfortable is the idea of you feeling like you have to hide this from me.” His hand found yours again, and he held it tightly, his thumb brushing over your skin in soothing, grounding strokes. “You’re mine. All of you—everything you are, everything you feel. I want to be here with you, for all of it. So don’t try to push me away, especially not now.”

His words left no room for argument, each one infused with a strength that was as reassuring as it was intoxicating. The intensity in his gaze softened slightly as he watched you, his expression warm, protective, and so full of care that you felt your guard slip, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Alright,” you breathed, giving in to the pull of his words, the comfort of his presence. “I just… I didn’t want this to change things between us.”

Woooyoung let out a quiet sigh, pulling you into his arms, his embrace warm and solid, a barrier against all your worries. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said firmly, his lips brushing your forehead. “If anything, it just means I get to be here for you in a way I haven’t before. I want to be here, *need* to be here.”

You could feel the depth of his emotions, the fierceness of his resolve, and it made something in your chest tighten, warmth spreading through you as you sank into his hold, letting him steady you.

As he held you, his hands gentle yet possessive, you realized that there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide. Woooyoung was here, steadfast and unflinching, a presence as constant as the stars outside the window. And for the first time, you felt truly safe in the knowledge that this was something you didn’t have to face alone.

---

The room felt suddenly warmer, the soft glow from the TV screen casting a low, intimate light over the two of you. Woooyoung’s hands lingered where they held you, one hand cradling your face with a tenderness that sent tingles down your spine, while his other hand traced slow, deliberate circles against the small of your back, his thumb grazing over the thin fabric of your shirt. His gaze, dark and intent, held yours, and you felt your breath catch as his eyes dipped to your lips.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his breath fanning across your face as he leaned closer. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently through your hair as he tilted your head up, his thumb stroking along your jaw in a way that left you feeling dizzy, each touch grounding you and yet sparking something electric, something that was growing impossible to ignore.

You couldn’t deny the fire that was building inside, the heat that seemed to flare each time he touched you, each time his gaze lingered on you. Your heart raced, your pulse hammering in your ears as you felt yourself leaning into him, drawn to the warmth of his skin, the steady, grounding presence of him against you.

“Woo,” you whispered, though it came out breathier than you intended, your voice thick with the intensity of your own need. You felt yourself slipping, your usual control slipping with it as his fingers trailed down your neck, pausing at the delicate line of your collarbone before slowly moving down your arm, igniting every inch of skin beneath his touch.

Woooyoung’s breath hitched as he drew closer, his face only a whisper away from yours, his gaze flickering over every detail, taking you in like he was memorizing you, savoring the moment. The possessiveness in his expression was unmistakable, mingling with the tenderness in his touch as his thumb brushed over the curve of your cheek, a small, reverent gesture that somehow left you feeling even more breathless.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he murmured, his voice thick, a little rough around the edges, his breath warm against your skin. “But God, I can’t stand the thought of letting you go through this alone. Not when I’m right here, not when I can be here for you.”

His words sent a shiver through you, your heart racing as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw, soft and barely there, but enough to send warmth pooling in your chest, spreading through you in waves. You felt your own breath hitch, the sensation of his closeness, his warmth and touch, intoxicating in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He pulled back just slightly, his gaze finding yours, his hand still at the back of your neck as he ran his thumb over your skin, the gesture gentle, grounding. “Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he whispered, though you could see the way his eyes darkened as he watched you, his own control beginning to slip. “But if you don’t… let me be here for you.”

Your voice caught in your throat, the words escaping you as you looked up at him, feeling the full force of his gaze. The restraint, the tension in his muscles as he held himself back, all for you, all for your sake, made something in you ache. But it was his tenderness, the care in his eyes, that undid you.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, the words barely a breath as you met his gaze, your cheeks flushed, heart pounding as you gave in to the pull between you. His eyes softened, a look of relief crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft and gentle at first, but that quickly deepened, his hand tightening at the back of your neck as he pulled you closer.

Your heat flared, the intensity of your need rising with each kiss, each gentle brush of his lips, each time his hands roamed over your skin with a reverence that left you breathless. Woooyoung’s hands moved to your waist, his touch warm, possessive as he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours, his breath mingling with yours as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more fervent.

Your own hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling as you pressed yourself closer, losing yourself in the warmth of him, the steady, grounding presence that kept you anchored even as the heat within you burned brighter, hotter with each passing second. Woooyoung’s breath hitched as your hands traced over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch, his pulse quickening in sync with yours.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still at the small of your back, keeping you close, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles that only served to make your heart race faster.

Woooyoung’s fingers grazed the hem of your shirt, hesitating just a second before he tugged it up, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully pulled it over your head. The shirt fell away, leaving you feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze, his eyes taking in every detail, a mix of admiration and possession reflected in the warmth of his gaze. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes that sent shivers down your spine, grounding you in the tenderness of his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a reverence that made your heart stutter. His hands moved with a deliberate gentleness as he traced along your collarbone, the warmth of his fingers making you melt under his touch, every movement sending waves of warmth through you. His hand drifted lower, coming to rest at your waist, fingers curling around you with a possessiveness that left you breathless.

Your own hands moved to his shirt, the need to feel him, to be closer, urging you forward as you tugged at the fabric, pulling it up and over his shoulders. His skin was warm, the muscles beneath tensing slightly as you traced your fingers over his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, the way his breath hitched under your touch. He watched you intently, a softness in his gaze as he let you explore, his hands never leaving your skin, holding you close as he soaked in every moment, every reaction.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice gentle, his thumb tracing small, grounding circles against your waist as he watched you with a concern that left you feeling safe, even as the intensity between you continued to build.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely audible as you met his gaze, your own cheeks flushed, heart racing as you leaned into him. There was a vulnerability in this closeness, a sense of connection that went beyond words, beyond touch, and as he held you, every ounce of doubt faded, replaced by the warmth of his presence, his tenderness.

Woooyoung’s fingers moved to the waistband of your pants, his gaze flicking back to meet yours, seeking silent permission. When you nodded, he carefully slid them down, his touch gentle and reverent, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, his gaze filled with awe and something deeper, a need that was matched by his control, his dedication to being there for you in every way you needed.

“You’re everything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you, his hands resting at your waist, pulling you close, grounding you in the warmth, the safety of his embrace. The two of you sank back onto the couch, the world outside fading away as you let yourself fall into the warmth of his touch, the steady, grounding presence of him there beside you, as if he was your world, and you his.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—just you, Woooyoung, and the warmth that blossomed between you, a connection that went beyond anything you’d ever felt before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more,” he murmured, his voice rough, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth, a tenderness that left you breathless.

You felt yourself melt into him, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips grounding you as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more. His kiss was tender, reverent, filled with a care and devotion that left you feeling weightless, swept up in the warmth and safety of him.

For now, nothing else mattered.

"H-haven't been like this before" your breath hitched, barely above a whisper.

"Neither did I see you like this.. but who am I to complain? How I'd love to fuck you right now until you can't walk tomorrow.." he smiled playfully, eyes wandering all over you.

Your attitude suddenly changes, feeling provoked by his words. "Hah, if you can even compete with my heat, baby".

"Jokes on you... I'm sometimes able to coordinate my heat to other werewolfs... but you weren't aware of that, were you, my love?"

You gulped.

"What do you mean..?" you muffled, barely above a whisper. Did you have any reason to be.. scared? No, he wouldn't hurt you, never. But.. his heats were *intense*.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. "It means," he murmured, "that tonight, you're not getting away from me." His fingers trailed along your arm, igniting sparks that made your skin prickle. "You’re right to be nervous... but not for the reasons you think."

Your heart raced, anticipation mingling with a thrill you couldn’t deny. Every inch of you felt hyperaware of his presence, the primal energy simmering just beneath the surface. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle with your composure.

"Tell me to stop," he dared, his gaze locked onto yours, a playful challenge lingering in his eyes. "Or... surrender."

His words hung in the air, a tantalizing choice dangling between the two of you, "you also clearly...need it" he peeked between your legs, arousal already dripping from your panties.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, the gravity of his challenge sinking in. The weight of his gaze held you there, pulling you deeper into the intensity of the moment. You tried to form words, but they tangled on your tongue, every coherent thought slipping through your grasp as his presence consumed your senses.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as you whispered, "I... I don’t want you to stop."

A triumphant glint sparked in his eyes, and he moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently cradle your face. His thumb brushed along your cheek, a delicate touch in stark contrast to the fire blazing behind his gaze. "Then surrender to me completely," he murmured, his voice like velvet, dark and alluring.

With a slight tilt of his head, he pressed his lips to yours, slow and intoxicating. The kiss was a promise, a claim, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You melted against him, feeling the strength and warmth of his hold. The tension between you shifted, giving way to a raw, undeniable pull that neither of you could ignore.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Tonight, you’re mine." His words hung in the air, sealing the promise of a night you would never forget.

From the tender, sweet guy he was at first when he first sensed your heat... he became the primal instinct-driven man you'd always see and.. feel, on your own, whenever Wooyoung was in heat.

He suddenly lifted you in his embrace and threw you on the mattress in your shared bedroom. You slightlt got up on your elbows but were soon pushed down by Wooyoung, his right hand holding you eagerly by your throat. He undressed himself and smirked at you. That *damned* smirk... the one that was telling you that you're basically.. done for.

"Let's see if you keep yourself true to your words, baby." and as soon as he finished his words, he leaned in for a kiss. At first it was a slow, deliberate kiss, then it deepened and became more needy, lustful, craved. His tongue interlocking with yours, sloppy and playful sounds could be heard.

You loved that Wooyoung was so.. talkative, and loud whenever he was in a heat. It actually turned you the fuck on.

He took his belt from the pants he threw on the floor a moment ago and tied up your hands thighly, right above your head to the headboard. He then spread out your legs forcefully, your body arching against the linen. He ripped off your soaked panties and threw them somewhere. He got rid of his briefs, too, his huge girthy and lengthy cock springing out angrily, waiting for any kind of action. He then slightly positioned himself closer to you, one hand going between your legs, one on his cock.

"Nhh-, please.." you mumbled.

"*Please* what, darling? I can't quite.." he pushed 2 of his fingers right inde your cunt, receiving a soft moan from you, "hear you" he pushed another one, making it 3 fingers. Your back arched against his touch as he started finger-fucking your rapidly, the hand on his cock moving, too. As he started stroking his length, you tried moving up and down on his fingers, trying to get to feel him way more and deeper.

"Try to stay quiet if you can.. I dare you"

"Huh? I- Wooyoung-ah!" you moaned his name loudly as he positioned himself to your cunt and fully thrusted in, no warning before he started fucking you rapidly and roughly. ""I want to see how far I can push you.. see where your limits really are."

As Woooyoung was senselessly ramming into you, his hands roamed in your body, his lips too. They went from your thighs which he kissed and, at first, softly bite, to your belly where he harshly sucked your skin and left marks all over, then to your collarbones and breasts where his lips found their way to your now-hardener nipples. He suck them off for a long minute at the same time he was fucking you, sending shivers through your whole body.

"I love the way you react to me. All those little shivers... I could do this all night" he cockily said, thrusting even more rapidly, breath hitching in his throat as he leaned in for a soft kiss. As he pulled back and saliva dripped from your lips, he looked down at his cock going in and out of you rapidly. He saw your face flushed, not being able to look in his eyes. "Keep your eyes on me. Don’t you dare look away—I want to see every second you lose control."

He flipped you over. Yes, his cock was still inches deep inside you, but he flipped you over and one hand went over to the nape of your neck, pushing your face in the mattress. His left hand, the free one, went to your ass and squeezed it once, then he slappped you hard, leaving a rosy mark on your fair skin. You whined at the rough touch, sound barely above a whisper, face buried in the linen. The same hand from your ass went to rest on the curve of your back, softly pushing himself in way better. He started rapidly fucking you again, but this time with a twist. You could feel him in all your sweets spots, back arching and legs already starting to tremble as you felt your high coming closer and closer.

"Wooyoung, ngh-I'm cl-close...!" you shouted, barely being able to form coherent words. As soon as he understood what you meant, you could basically feel the smirk he gave you a second before his hand travelled between your legs from over your legs and waist, aiming for your cunt. His dick inches in you and ppunding into you, 2 of his fingers circled your swollen clit. You quietly moaned at his touch. As soon as he combined those two motions, ramming and circling your clit, you came down from your high beautifully, creaming on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm and he for sure didn't plan on stopping.

"I know exactly where to touch you, where to push you… look at you coming undone just like I knew you would. Good girl, princess." Woo confidently and cockily said, drops of sweat falling off his head on your chest. "Let's try one.. more. Shall we? I’m going to make sure you feel me in every breath you take."

"Wooyoung wait-!"

"What." he said, confused.

"Slow d-down !" you whispered.

""I'm not stopping until I have you exactly how I want you" he flipped you over on your back again and lifted you up. He pushed you to the uncluttered wall in the room, the headboard behind you slightly breaking when he forced the belt off. Your hands fell to his shoulders, holding onto him thightly. He held you by your ass and pulled you close, making you jump on his cock.

"I love fucking you against a wall so damn much.. and I'm so sad your heat is irregular.. really fucks up my mood. But now? I will make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow, as I said." and he started kissing your collarbone. He bit you again, this time leaving teeth marks all over.

"You feel so good.. sweetie. I'm so close-" his breath caught up in his throat as he released his load in your cunt, pounding it all up in you. He took his sweet time until he felt satisfied with the amount of thrusts he did and pushed you over the edge, legs trembling around him and hands barely holding onto him. You came down from your high the 2nd time for the night.. and it was not about to be even close to the last one.

"See? This is what you joined in for. How do you feel about it, sweetie?"

"Please just... don't ever stop" you muffled, with teary eyes and a smirk on your face.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze flickering with that unmistakable spark. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, "we’re nowhere near done. I warned you, didn’t I? Once you’re in, there’s no stopping. And tonight? We’re just getting started."

He tilted his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, taking in the way your breath hitched at his touch. "Think you can keep up with me?" he asked, letting a confident chuckle slip through as he traced his fingertips along your skin. His expression softened for a moment, but that mischievous glint in his eyes stayed strong, hinting at the intensity yet to come.

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