#well I eas enjoy the read

[inkcurlsandknives]

[miyku]

[tauvesims]

Tuscany - Clothing set

HEY HEYYY,i'm finally free (for a week) from my exams and i got to finnish this clothing set that i've been working on since the start of the month... and u may be wondering, Daph, why did it take u so long? Well.. I LEARNT HOW TO MAKE BAGS. O M G. it took all i had in me but i think i finally figured it out so i am RLLY happy with how this turned out!

Lmk what you think down in the comments, i always read you!

You will get:

Venetian knit Sweater

22 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

Capri peplum Blouse

20 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

Rome midi Skirt

16 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

Florence denim Mini

6 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

Golden rose Necklace

15 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

Milan leather Bag

4 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh

some ground rules:

do not- claim them as your own

do not- upload them anywhere for download

do- (if u end up downloading and using it) @ me so i can see you!

do- lmk if you have ANY problems :)

ENJOY!!

-------------------------------

DOWNLOAD (ea: 07/13)

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[enriques4]

[EnriqueS4] Lauren Hairstyle

New Mesh

Comes with 80 Swatches (24 EA Swatches + 56 Swatches from my natural palette)

Comes with 80 Ombres combination and also 80 swatches for chunky higlights

Hat Compatible

Base Game Compatible

All Lods

Teen to Elder

If you use my cc don’t forget to tag me as well like #enriques4 or @enriques4, for see your sims using my cc.

If you have any question or an issues, please let me know, i will try to fix it as soon as posible!!

Free release: 07/12

if you are a member of my patreon, please check and read the new changes and the new benefits of each different membership. If you are new, please check the memberships and benefits in the memberships tab, click here to read all the new info and updates.

Download (Patreon - Free)

Download (Patreon + Neutral Palette Exclusive)

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now available for free!! enjoy! 🤍

[trillyke]

After Midnight Top

I love a good layered look, knitted vests are so cute!! This one comes with a white shirt with sligthly puffy sleeves, and a cute little bow!! I included a lot of patterns: houndstooth, argyle, animal prints, florals, plaids etc. and added some university swatches as well! Hope you enjoy! (Inspired by)

custom thumbnail

40 swatches

base game compatible

edited EA mesh by me

please read and respect my TOU

you can buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi if you want

➤ DOWNLOAD HERE (Patreon, Free)

Public release: 11th January, 2023

✩ CC on previews: Hair #1 / Hair #2

[dalishious]

A BioWare Guide on How to Murder a Fanbase

I have been a Dragon Age super-fan for almost fourteen years, now. I have played every game, with every DLC. I have read every novel, lore book, and every comic — yes, even the terrible ones that are better off forgotten. I have seen the anime film, the animated series, and the web mini-series. I have enjoyed all of these pieces of the franchise over and over, more times than I can count. So, make no mistake: the negativity you’re about to hear comes from a place of love for this fantasy world, developed by many creative people over the years. I would love nothing more than to see the resurrection of passion in the Dragon Age fandom again. But the unfortunate truth is, that resurrection is only needed because BioWare took the fandom out back and shot it in the first place.

In December 2018, three years after the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser epilogue DLC, BioWare first announced the then-untitled next Dragon Age game with a teaser trailer. At this point, most fans were anticipating this would mean within the next couple years, we would see the game. This assumption was based on the fact that Dragon Age: Inquisition was first announced in 2012, and released in 2014, with an extra year of development added last minute.

There have been dribbles of extra content since then, adding to the franchise. This was enough to keep some fans still breathing and interested. 2020’s Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights was a lovely anthology. 2020’s Dragon Age: Blue Wraith and 2021’s Dark Fortress were wonderful comics tying up the story started in Knight Errant. And 2022’s Dragon Age: Absolution was a well-animated series with an interesting cast of characters and story. But all these still left the fandom with a major question: What was going on with the next game? It was untypical of BioWare to be so secretive, in comparison to how they handled sharing information of the past games in the franchise. The only form of updates fans still have to go on is mostly just concept art and short stories, hinting that something must be in production. But why was the wait so long?

In 2015, the first version of the next Dragon Age began with a clear vision, clear scope of practice, and a reportedly happy developer team. Most gloriously in my book, there was no multi-player… but this did not align with the Electronic Arts typical money-mad schemes. EA’s push for “games as a service” meant they wanted to monetize all their games as much as possible, and therefore, they wanted them to be a live service — as Anthem demonstrated, that meant sacrificing things that are staples of good RPGs, like narrative and character choice. So in 2017, version one of the next Dragon Age was scrapped and replaced. This new version would have, in total or to at least some degree, an online portion of play.

There is one part of Schreier’s article, “The Past and Present of Dragon Age 4,” that really sticks out to me, regarding this:

“One person close to the game told me this week that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content.”

The idea of splitting up components of a game into single-player and multi-player is a terrible idea, because it means that there would be a large bulk of content only accessible through online gaming; something many fans, like myself, are repulsed by. Even if I did enjoy it, I spent most of my life growing up with either no internet or shoddy internet incapable of playing online games. I know many rural people who are still in that position, losing more and more of their favourite gaming pastimes because they are locked out of the ability to play them. It is a disservice to hide content behind a wall like this, especially in a world that is so lore-heavy like Dragon Age. The news of multi-player in Dragon Age understandably upset many, and this is when I first noticed a large drop off in excitement over the next game.

However, in 2021, the failure of Anthem (multi-player) and success of Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (single-player) led the executives at EA to bend to the wishes of BioWare leadership and allow them to go back to the drawing board yet again on the next Dragon Age. This meant removing all multi-player content!

While I am very happy that there will reportedly be no multi-player in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, I can’t help but feel bitter and a little disgusted over the ridiculous development time spent on something no one but EA wanted in the first place. If it weren’t for this foolishness, Dragon Age: Dreadwolf would be in our hands right now. Instead, it’s been in development hell for nearly nine years and counting. Nine years is a long time to expect fans to carry a torch for you through radio silence, but it’s no wonder BioWare has shared barely anything about the next game; it’s been in flux for so long, they likely haven’t had anything concrete to show.

BioWare hurt its reputation even more when the news broke that the studio very suddenly laid off 50 people who were working on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. This is pretty damning on its own, but BioWare took it a step further. Former developer Jon Renish shared a statement revealing that the studio was only willing to offer laid-off employees two weeks of severance per year of service, and denied health benefits. The denial of health benefits in particular is a pretty wild move for a studio with a reputation for “stress casualties”. The latest news on this is that BioWare has still so far refused to negotiate better severance packages, leading to a lawsuit. The lawsuit originally had 15 former employees, but this dropped due to the fear of not being able to afford to pay their bills. So now, while EA sits on $400 million net income, the laid-off employees are struggling to buy holiday presents for their children. These horrid business practices are not to be ignored when accounting for a lack of faith in a studio. What kind of monsters reward workers who make your games special with vaguely reasoned lay-offs?

The latest news on the Dragon Age: Dreadwolf front from BioWare came early this month, December 2023, with a trailer… announcing a trailer that will come next summer… that will announce the release of the game. Supposedly. Maybe. We’ll see. But by this time, BioWare is something of a laughing stock of their own fandom. Reactions to the video released with a pretty map graphic and a few rendered locations were, from what I personally observed, mostly sardonic in nature. People have commented on the vapourware nature of the game, and like all vapourware, that leads to disintegrating trust.

Despite all this, people like Mary Kirby, (one of the veteran Dragon Age writers who was a victim of the layoffs,) said, “it’s bittersweet that Dreadwolf is my last DA game, but I still hope you all love it as much as I do,” encouraging fans to still support the game when it eventually is released. But after every misstep BioWare has taken, that’s a tough sell now. Fans are finicky, RPG fans more so than others, one could argue. We have our favourites, and many of us stick to those favourites for life over our appreciation for the artistry — but that relationship between studio and fan should go both ways. EA and BioWare has betrayed that relationship, and it will take a hell of a lot to build it back up again, now.

[This piece is also available on Medium!]

[vampireistic]

the problem with natlan / sumeru

warning: long post

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to preface this i’d like to say that i’m in no ways an expert in the topics present, i’m just an autistic dumbass with too much time on his hands who enjoys a bit of research — i’m in no way, shape or form trying to belittle players who are excited for the update, by all means i hope you enjoy it, i’m just trying to give criticism.

you can enjoy/play a game while criticising it simultaneously.

when it comes to the topic of racial diversity and a company like hoyoverse that’s based in china, there’s quite a lot of political baggage that comes along with it. while i’ll try my best to go over that, i’m afraid i can only give a very limited eastern european perspective on it and i’ll certainly get things wrong or misinterpret things — if you’d like a more thorough view on the politics, please go read the post made by @zeichannnnn (hope you don’t mind the tag my love)

firstly, i’ll be going over general misconceptions, ridiculous excuses and or stereotypes that i’ve seen commonly come up in this conversation.

any and all screenshots will have usernames cut off for privacy, i want to maintain a civilised discussion and not cause argument.

a lot of my critiques are more so towards the attitude the fandom has when it comes to this argument and their blatant colourism. as my friend above says, no one ever complained about characters in liyue/inazuma being paper white despite the fact realistically, no one in EA is that colour naturally. this of course stems from the beauty standards but that’s a discussion for later on.

the point is that if say a nation like liyue, had the same skin colour as a character like xinyan (who hails from liyue and has a liyue name) people would undoubtedly be upset. so why is it that when in terms of nations that are based off countries with a darker skin colour variety, complaining about the characters being white is seen as a problem?

culture isn’t defined by racial diversity, but when you’re monetising off the representation of different countries cultures, the very least you can do is show the actual diversity within said culture instead of slapping a cultural name on a white model (cue that one picture of the egyptian dude who looks like a plain american).

the idea that because it’s fantasy or anime, having black characters is surreal or improbable is rooted in white supremacy’s hold over unfair beauty standards as well as just the general consensus that black people are less desirable in media. which is completely false.

characters like dehya have proven that a character’s race is irrelevant when it comes to likeness, given the fact the chinese community ended up donating to charities because of said characters story.

the reason why the lightly toasted characters appear tan to you is because the rest of the cast is so horrifically pale (nahida’s hex code is #FFF7F1, cyno’s is #EEC6A6 which when placed next to each other may look like a big difference, but in reality the colours are on the same side of the colour wheel only a few spaces apart).

hoyoverse does in fact use culture as a mere aesthetic and costume to plant on white models. that is NOT to say they misrepresent culture entirely: this post goes over how hoyoverse is perfectly capable of doing impressive research to bring forth forgotten or unknown bits of culture.

even aside from the problems with racial diversity, the character design department has been known to completely fail when it comes to accurate representation. from the sexualisation of the kimono in characters like raiden shogun (which even the eastern part of the fandom have been upset about) to the character of yunjin where the chinese player based believed she was more like a lolita inspired caricature than a real depiction. they don’t understand how to mingle tradition with modernism.

in all fairness, it is difficult — and i will praise the game for making natlan much more technologically advanced and vibrant than people were expecting because having the one nation that’s based off africa and indigenous people be a wasteland would’ve ultimately been a problem. personally, i even love the slight mashup of “tribes” and the pokémon esque aesthetic — its new, and a smart way to bring two things together.

same thing cannot be said for how hyv ignores the fact darker people of colour are also significant when it comes to the building of culture.

please read over these that go more into depth about problems:

natlan being an amalgamation of three separate countries/cultures.

misrepresenting both continents natlan’s based from

another thing that’s always bothered me is the excuses people used in sumeru about the presentation of characters that were based off real people; specifically, kusanali.

yes, she’s based off a hindu moon goddess who’s described as pale and sure that could’ve been the reason she’s nearly the colour white — but how come candace, who’s based off kandake, a fully black woman, is presented as being slightly tan? you can’t pick and choose what you represent and honestly the idea that nahida’s character is supposed to be a depiction of the moon goddess is disrespect to the goddess herself (please go look at a singular picture of her and you’ll understand the utter tragedy).

hoyoverse also has a bit of a history with both whitewashing their slightly tan characters (nekomiya from zoneless zen zero, arlan from honkai star rail etc) but i think one of their biggest proofs of disrespect comes to carole pepper from hi3.

now, this is not at all me saying you can’t present female characters as very muscular — no. in fact, i would’ve loved if characters like beidou had a similar sort of build. but out of all the characters you could’ve chosen to give this to, you chose a black woman.

would this be a problem if it continued with other characters? not really. the issue lies within the fact the ONLY mother in game who’s presented as buff and “masculine looking” is a black woman — something that’s quite literally a stereotype against black women who are regarded as “naturally less feminine” than white women.

eastern beauty standards

the assertion that eastern beauty standards prevent the inclusion of black characters in video games is not only invalid but also reflects deeper issues of bias and systemic exclusion in the gaming industry. this argument is flawed for several reasons, including the diversity of beauty standards in eastern cultures, the global nature of the gaming market, and the responsibility of creators to reflect and promote inclusivity.

to claim that eastern beauty standards universally exclude black characters oversimplifies and homogenizes the diverse beauty ideals present in countries like japan, south korea, and china. these cultures are not monolithic and have their own histories and contemporary movements that embrace a variety of appearances.

creators in the gaming industry have a responsibility to reflect the diversity of the real world and promote inclusivity. video games are a powerful medium that can shape perceptions, challenge stereotypes, and foster empathy. by including black characters, game developers can contribute to a more inclusive and equitable society. this requires intentionality and a commitment to representation that goes beyond mere tokenism. the argument that eastern beauty standards prevent such inclusion suggests a lack of willingness to challenge existing norms and expand the narrative possibilities within games. hoyoverse have themselves stated in their mission statement that their goal is to show inclusivity.

that’s not to say it’s not clear that china’s beauty standards have unfortunately affected the gaming market: but for a game that brandishes itself on localising itself for a global audience (meaning, outside of its region), it’s a poor excuse. those standards aren’t universal and shouldn’t be used as gateway into designing.

once again, i am NOT at all very well versed in politics especially one that’s overseas (well, next door neighbour in a way) so i definitely will misinterpret or misunderstand things unintentionally and if i do, i’m really sorry.

historical nihilism to me doesn’t relate to black people, just actual story events (hence why hoyoverse had to put a warning label for fontaine that the events presented didn’t represent that of the real world and any similarities were mere coincidence). black people existing isn’t regarded as “politically harmful” neither is it an extraordinary idea — it’s just another group of people.

although, the CCP has a MASSIVE history about their demonisation and hatred of black people therefore, even without the idea that the censorship stems from something like historical nihilism, it’s likely something to do with individual prejudice.

politically, i can semi-understand why hoyoverse is in a tight space for racial diversity. but that doesn’t mean i’m willing to baby a company that profits billions worth of profit from other cultures that they misrepresent and i’m even less inclined to hold the hands of hoyoverse dickriders who believe people complain about race just solely to whine. it’s a real systemic issue, and one that’s prevalent in a multitude of games aside from genshin.

people from the cultures presented are rightfully upset and they shouldn’t be told to just “accept”mediocrity. it’s their culture and identities being ridiculed, it’s their identities being profited from for the sake of aesthetics for a game that preaches inclusivity to the people that are willing to ignore its prejudice.

hell, even as a polish person, just thinking about what they’ll do with snezhnaya upsets me even if it’s not racially based — once again, the media emphasises the idea that eastern europe / slavic culture is purely russia meanwhile they steal little things from all of the surrounding countries in eastern europe (won’t forget the fact they changed that password thing in sumeru from “ravioli” to “pierogi”).

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TL;DR hoyoverse uses other people’s cultures and identities as an aesthetic and proceeds to profit off of it while misrepresenting the sample of people they chose to depict and while a political argument can be made in this regard, ultimately the backlash from people rightfully feeling unjustified in the lack of racial diversity is what amplifies these colourist attitudes: and while hoyoverse has seemingly much more legal repercussions to commit to their idea of diversity, the fandom has no excuse for their disregard of different identities.

also just a funny thing my friend and i did to show just how white these characters are lol

“ blackwashing “ versus “ whitewashing “

i feel like i need to add this little section too because i know there will be a lot of people that draw or reimagine the characters in a variety of different skin tones, and i know a lot of people will be upset (usually it’s just the lowlife weebs who cry at the thought of a black woman being in the same room as them).

historically, media, including video games and anime, have predominantly featured pale-skinned characters, often neglecting the representation of people of color. this lack of diversity reinforces a narrow view of beauty and heroism, contributing to the systemic exclusion of non-white individuals. blackwashing helps to rectify these historical imbalances by providing a broader spectrum of racial representation. it challenges the default assumption that characters must be pale-skinned and introduces audiences to a more inclusive range of appearances.

representation matters profoundly in media. seeing characters that reflect one's own identity can have significant positive effects on self-esteem and cultural pride. blackwashing creates opportunities for black audiences to see themselves in roles and narratives traditionally dominated by pale-skinned characters.

critics (once again, youtube creators and tiktok lmao) of blackwashing often argue that it disrespects original character designs or cultural contexts. however, the impact of changing a character's skin tone is minimal compared to the harm caused by whitewashing. whitewashing often erases the cultural significance of non-white characters, perpetuating stereotypes and denying the rich diversity of the source material. blackwashing, in contrast, does not erase cultural identities but rather enhances the inclusivity of the media. it provides a more diverse and representative depiction without detracting from the character's original essence or storyline.

in addition, usually when a character is black in fantasy media or even just an anime/game with a lore based story, it’s because their race is significant to who they are (i.e tiana from princess and the frog who faces racial discrimination — without her being a person of colour, this storyline and the events that follow wouldn’t make sense).

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i’m sorry for such a long and probably nonsensical rant, but this has bothered me into absolute oblivion especially the community’s response to the uproar of people who rightfully critique and are upset by the company.

[navybrat817]

Rules and Chaos

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: Your friends are a bad influence when you and Bucky set up booths for a Fall Festival. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Implied sex, slight humor, slight fluff, tension, teasing, inner monologue, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Previous Part of AU: Ladies and Gentlemen A/N: Fic #4 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Quick visit with Hottie and Sugar and a small mention of Thorn and Rose.❤️ Beta read by the lovely @jobean12-blog (thank you and @whisperlullaby for assuring me this wasn't garbage!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics and Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo .Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You did this on purpose. I know you did.”

With a small laugh, you finished setting up the last sign in front of your table. You wanted the stand to look perfect. “What exactly did I do, Tess?”

She pointed to the booth beside yours where Bucky and Hal were also in the middle of getting their things set up. “You somehow got them to put us right next to the boys.”

You stole a glance at the “Sin On Skin” booth beside yours, the sign tastefully saying “S.O.S. Tattoo Parlor”. Bucky winked at you when he caught your gaze out of the corner of your eye. A goofy smile appeared on your face before you cleared your throat and got back to work. “You do realize I had absolutely no control over where they placed us since I didn't organize this event.”

The nearby elementary school had put on a Fall Festival over the last few years and the woman Steve started seeing was a teacher there. She thought it would be fun for the guys to do face paintings and temporary tattoos for the kids. It was Bucky who suggested that your shop sell baked goods, after running it by you first. Not only was it good for exposure for you and Tess while helping to raise money for the students, it was an excuse to spend the day a few feet away from your boyfriend.

How could you say no to that?

The only downside was that the weather for tomorrow called for rain. To be on the safe side, the booths were going to be in the gym so that the families could still enjoy some of the festivities if it stormed. No matter what happened, it would be a fun day for everyone.

“Then he did it and now I have to watch you two make eyes at each other between customers tomorrow,” Tess accused, but there was no malice behind her words. You didn’t argue since there was a good chance that you would check Bucky out and vice versa. “And aren’t you two hanging out tonight after we finish up?”

“Yeah. We’re doing a movie night,” you replied. You hadn’t had a chance to do a lot of fall activities with Bucky yet, but he promised that he’d take you on a hayride tomorrow before the event was over. And the two of you were watching scary movies tonight. A perfect excuse for you to snuggle against him.

Which will probably end with him inside me, so well worth the jump and scares.

“I still think he’s the reason why we’re next to each other,” Tess said, checking over the order you put together. You made sure there was a range of Autumn and Halloween colors and everything was back at the shop ready for you to set out the following morning. “Though I shouldn’t complain. You two are cute together and he makes you happy.”

“We are a cute couple,” Bucky said, winking at you again. “And she makes me happy, too.”

You had to smile as your heart skipped a beat. It still felt a bit like a dream that the handsome tattoo artist was your boyfriend, but he was yours. It was silly to think that the season was brighter because you had him around, but he was like the unexpected warmth you sometimes experienced on a cool day when the sun came out. If you told him that, you knew he’d argue that it was the other way around. That you were the one who brightened everything around you.

Bringing out the best in each other is what good couples do.

“Get back to work, Hottie. We’re almost done,” you teased when he walked around his table. Clad in one of his signature Henley's, maroon to likely go with the fall theme, you found yourself staring at his chest as he stopped in front of you. Your eyes snapped to his lips when he tapped them with his finger.

“Gimme a kiss first, Sugar,” he said, his voice as warm as your cheeks felt. “One little kiss. That's all I'm asking for.”

“Fine,” you agreed, moving in close. “One kiss.”

He cupped your jaw as he leaned in and deeply kissed you, instantly making you melt against him as you kissed him back. You smiled as you tried to pull away after a second, his lips eagerly seeking yours as he went in for seconds. You discovered after your first date that one kiss was never enough for your boyfriend. He claimed your sugary lips drugged his system with desire and the only cure was for him to have another taste, which made him crave you and your kisses more.

I crave him, too.

He wrapped a hand around your hip and dragged you closer as you mewled, a sound of need that you tried to stamp out. Arousal seized you as his tongue licked along your mouth. It wasn’t fair that his kisses brought such a strong reaction out of you, especially when there was nothing you could do to satisfy it. At least, not right this second.

I’m not going to wiggle my hips and rub my pussy against his cock. I will maintain some sort of self-control.

“Hey!” Hal grinned as you tore your lips away from Bucky’s, shivering at the slight growl he let out at being interrupted. The sound made you want him more. “You two can’t fool around here. Not unless you’re teaching Sex Ed.”

“Yeah,” Tess chimed in, handing you her phone so you could take photos. Bucky still had a hand on your hip, only allowing you to twist a bit. The possessive touch also had safety behind it, telling you that you had nothing to fear when he was close by. “Behave, you two. This is a school.”

Your jaw dropped before you snapped a few pictures, making sure to capture the entire booth. You’d have to get more in the morning once the treats were set out. “We are professionals. We would never fool around here.”

And, thankfully, no children were nearby to witness you and Bucky kissing each other since it was after hours. You couldn’t wait to see him interact with the kids though. They would adore him and his gentle giant demeanor. The kids would love all of them. Jake’s sister even planned to stop by so his niece could get a face painting done.

“So, you're saying if he dragged you off to a nearby classroom… Oh, come on. Like you didn’t think about it the second you asked for a kiss,” Hal said, shrugging when Bucky shot him a glare and set out a bottle of orange paint that matched the shade of his hair. You wondered if he’d keep it orange for November or if he’d go for a shade of red. “Or maybe you two will roll in the hay during that hayride you keep talking about.”

Bucky didn’t look at all embarrassed, swearing that the boys were used to hearing him moan on and on about you. It was a nice feeling. “Like she said, we’re professionals and we wouldn’t do that,” he argued, raising an eyebrow. “And did you just say ‘roll in the hay’? You sound like Jensen.”

“I’m a country boy at heart. I know all about rolling in the hay,” he smirked, looking over at you when your boyfriend pulled you closer. “Hey. Don’t classrooms have locks?”

“Hal, stop encouraging them,” Tess hissed as he chuckled. It was too late. They planted the seed and you knew Bucky was thinking about it, too. “Though he does have a point. Just go into one of the rooms and lock the door. No one will notice.”

“And there’s still time before we have to get out of here,” Hal added as he checked his watch. “Make it a quickie.”

“Hold on,” you said, handing the phone back to Tess when you realized you were still holding it. “You two are actually encouraging us to find a classroom to fool around in? The night before the event?”

Not that it wouldn’t be fun and a good stress reliever, but-

“It’s no different than you two in the kitchen,” your friend said, pointing at Bucky as your cheeks got hot. “Yeah, I had that counter cleaned twice.”

Bucky turned his head toward you, humor in his eyes as you played innocent. “You told her about that?” he asked, brushing a kiss to your temple. You had to tell her. It was technically her kitchen, too. “How I ate you out so good you almost cried?” he added low enough for only you to hear.

You trembled at the memory, the mere thought of his skilled tongue and fingers making your toes curl in your boots. Before you could open your mouth to say something in your defense, Hal laughed. “And it’s no different than the two of you messing around in the break room. Thought Andy was gonna buy a new couch to replace it.”

It was Bucky’s turn to feign innocence as you gazed at him, gently tugging on his bun as tried not to smile. “You told him about that?”

Earlier in the week, you waited around for him to close the parlor. The two of you chatted on the couch when you didn’t want to leave right away, which led to a heated makeout session. It wasn’t long before he had you in his lap, bouncing you up and down on his cock as he growled filthy praises. How well you took him, how beautiful you looked riding him. It was a feat that you could walk out before he took you home.

Where he wrecked you all over again.

“Steve told him, so everyone knows. Punk can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Bucky said, glancing around where a few others were starting to wrap up. “Look. Messing around in our shops is one thing. We own them. Messing around here is something else.”

“He’s right. And even if we wanted to mess around, I’m pretty sure the security guard or administrators will catch on if we suddenly take a stroll down the halls,” you said before your brow furrowed. “Wait a second. Where’s Steve?” you asked. You hadn’t seen him since he dropped off the table banner.

Hal looked behind him and shrugged. “Wasn’t he helping Rose grab decorations for one of the other displays?”

“It shouldn’t take that long, should it?” your boyfriend asked.

As if on cue, Steve rushed into the gym and came to a stop a foot away from the booth. His cheeks were pinker than usual and his hair was a bit of a mess. “Sorry. Rose was showing me around. She’ll be back in a minute.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Thought you two were getting decorations.”

“Well, yeah. We did. She has them,” he said quickly.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Check your fly,” Bucky said, nodding to his crotch.

Hal laughed so hard he almost fell over as Steve fixed his pants, you and Tess covering your mouths to not draw more attention as you giggled. “See? If Stevie can have fun in a classroom, so can you.”

The blonde looked slightly offended by the assumption. “We were not in a classroom,” he stated as you all stared in disbelief. It only took a moment for him to smile. “We were in an office. That’s completely different.”

You shared a look with Bucky, practically seeing the lightbulb turn on over his head. “An office?” he repeated.

Steve nodded, pointing to one of the gym doors. “Yeah, the principal's office is that way and the nurse’s office,” he said, smirking when he realized why his best friend was asking. “You’re worse than I am, you know that?”

“Worse than what?” a kind voice rang out, Steve's girlfriend gracefully walking over with a small box in hand. He took it from her hands immediately, like it was too heavy for her.

“Buck was wanting to, um, 'visit' one of the offices,” he replied.

Rose kept a neutral look on her face as she looked at you two. “So he told you,” she said carefully.

The poor guy really can't keep a secret.

“More like his open fly told us,” Hal chuckled, holding up his hands when Steve took a step toward him.

Rose placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “I normally wouldn't encourage this, but since Steve let the cat out of the bag,” she said, smiling when he gave her a lopsided grin. “The teacher's lounge should still be unlocked, but only for a few more minutes and I can't help you if anyone walks in. You're on your own. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bucky chuckled, leaning in close to breathe against your ear. “What do you say, Sugar? Think we can sneak in there? Have a bit of fun before our movie night? Break a few rules?”

The thought had you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. “Thought you wanted one kiss before you got back to work. Not a quickie.”

“Let’s live dangerously,” he smiled.

Your breath hitched, something in your mind telling you to go along with the crazy idea. It wouldn’t hurt anyone. The two of you would clean up any mess you’d make once you were done. And if Rose, who worked here, had fun with Steve, would it be so wrong for you to do the same?

“You’re a bad influence,” you smiled back as he tugged you by the hand toward the door. “All of you!” you added when Tess laughed and Hal whistled.

But it’s good to be bad now and again, especially with the right partner by my side.

So, did Bucky fuck you against the door, the vending machine, or on a table? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cillivnz]

Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

[channel4sims-cc]

TS4: Backyard Stuff - Food Items Override

Sul sul ^^

I hope everyone's doing well ^^

I was creating an override for the kitchen bottles, and some time ago I was asked to replace this drinks tray from "Backyard Stuff". So I decided to create a separate override for this pack :)

🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

*It overrides: the drinks tray, the juice jar, the three drink glasses, and the powdered drinks can.

*The sim use the wooden spoon to mix the juice. So I created a golden spoon for them to use instead (it's golden to match the tray handle).

NOTE: This golden spoon does not override the wooden spoon. It's a new item that they'll use only to mix the juice. The overrides for the kitchen spoon will be posted soon, just like the spatula overrides :)

*I also added a mod to change the drinks prices to be §15 simoleons. It makes more sense, at leats in my opinion (I wouldn't pay §144 for a jar of powdered juice I made in my own house, would you? 😅).

ABOUT THE JAR: At first I had made another juice jar, in a more rounded/realistic style. But that animation of the ice cubes and lemons inside it, and also the juice the sim pours, are all premade meshes that can't be edited.

I tried removing them, but then it looked empty and boring. So I decided to just remake EA's jar design, so the effects could stay there :)

🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

These are the can versions, and the items that were replaced:

🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

Read the installation guide on the Patreon post :)

I hope you’ll enjoy it a lot!!!

If there are any problems, please let me know :)

There are more overrides coming soon :)

Happy Simming ^^

*-* DOWNLOAD (free/no adfly) *-*

[cloudluvrrr]

Change

a/n: rushed and bad im sick andi have to post chat 😔

boothill x preachers daughter

tw : religous themes, slight implication of freaky, erm bad and rushed, i didnt proof read either 😈😈

-Michelle pfeifer - ethel cain

Boothill was often out at night, his family owned a small ranch a little south of the small town you lived in. You knew of him of course, everyone did. He often did some petty crimes, smoking, stealing from people, getting in fights. He was troubled, often coming into church on Sundays with his family begrudgingly.

He entered the southern style church, looking over at the rows of towns people whispering amongst themselves. Hiding away what they've done before, as if attending could simply wash away the tracks of their sins.

Sitting there with a sour look on his face, as your father preached about how to repent and cleanse your souls seemingly being aimed at boothill. As well as informing the town that the yearly baptism & church picnic was coming, and for those who wanted to be accepted to speak with his wife.

Every time he entered the church he saw the back of your pretty head. All done up with a bow, in your Sunday best. He watched as you highlighted and taking notes in your white bible. Your flushed cheeks, the point of your nose, your soft tinted lips, the frills of your dress. You were the towns girl, always dressed in pretty dresses and on her best behavior. Like a doe, innocent, beautiful, graceful. Boothill was like a snake, with the temptation and promise of leading others astray. Poisoning them, leading them astray from the grace of god.

As his thoughts came to a close he saw everyone getting up, and the pastor finishing up his sermon. He was hunched over, hands in his pocket as a soft hand tugged on his forearm.

"boothill" your soft voice echoed in his head, 'she knows my name?'

"uh.. yeah?" he asked nervously meeting your eyes.

"your not going to get baptised?"

"Why would I? everyone in here is fake as hell, I like to enjoy my you-"

"you're going to hell" you interupt, your brown eyes looking up at him.

"You can't be saved unless you change, ya know." you say stepping back and hugging your bible. "Your loved, you got everythin' and you live like that"

"the hell you mean by that" he snapped, but before you answered your father pulled you away to tend to other followers.

"I told you not to speak to him" your father whispered as he lead to the others "I was helping" you whisper back.

"He's beyond help baby"

--

He was out in his fathers wheat field, stargazing. A dimly light cigarette rest on his lips. His mind thinking of what you said, how he had everything yet he still rebelled. He tried his hardest to think of why, he shrugged it off as just wanting to be free from this shit small town.

His thoughts once more interrupted by a small hum, seeing you walking along the fence. Your hands behind your back, as you walked along the fence. God you were beautiful "hey!" he shouted getting up and standing on the other side.

The sweet sound of you hums stop as you look at him.

"made up your mind?" you ask looking into his eyes.

A fence between the two of you, a divide he placed a hand on the fence "fuck no, what you doin' out?" he ask looking around looking for any sign of your family.

"I like to go on walks"

"alone?"

"this town gossips like wild fire, if i do something it'll get to my daddy before I even return home. I ain't stupid like you" you say with an edge

"I enjoy my life" he scoffed putting out his cigarette.

"change is good"

"no it ain't"

"some times it is" you insist.

"why are you so insistan-"

"I want you to change"

"why? I'm a lost cause darlin' your daddy said so too" He added sitting on the fence

"...I don't think so, I wanna talk to yo-"

"the hell? why?"

"...I like you, your everything I'd like to be" your brows scrunching as you hear your own words

Your words hit him like lighting, you wanted to be like him. "why? You got everythin' your families perfect, y'all rich, you love eachother-" He could give you a million reasons why your family was so looked up upon.

"no, daddys.. Gone a lot, mama drinks, my kid siblings just do whatever daddy wants them too.." you said looking away.

'but I could tell that you wanted out of the family.'

--

So began boothills journey to salvation.

He gets baptized, and for the first time he doesn't get tugged away from you.

The both of you are on a swing set, talking about the most mundane things. Your favorite food, his favorite color, your hobbies anything he could to distract you from the town.

it was often cute dates like this, at the dinner, the lake, anywhere.

yet

he was a bad influence, even if he was 'fixed'. He wanted to show you the world outside of the church.

So on one of the days where your father was out and your mother was drowning in her wine cabinet.

the both of you, sat in boothills twin bed drinking some beer he'd stolen from the local store.

Things got hazey from there, you didn't remember much.

Other than boothill slipping off your purity ring, and slipping off your sunday best.

-

He'd become your world

Your everything

the very sin you'd had been protected from.

Your family had learned to accept him, and your friends envied you.

Yet he left,

just like that.

Packed his bags took his dads truck, and left.

You accepted it, moving on but always thinking of him sending him letters you were never sure reached him.

Eventually you dropped off the last letter along with the ring he'd made you, in his jewelry class

-

Dear, Boothill

where did you go?

This is my last letter, I don't know if you get any of them. But I'm finally leaving you behind, like you did with me.

You're like a demon that follows behind me, a reminder of our time and our fun. I can't deny I didn't like it, made me happy.

It makes me happy,

Especially when you changed just for me.

And just for you to leave.

Did you even exist?

or

was it me?

--

sorry if it started off good then slowly got worst i forgot where i wanted to take it, so YAAY i finished it tho :)

i havent been playing hsr but i will be pulling for sunday :D

actually ive been into the silent hill 2 remake and detroit become human :P

BYEYEEYEYU for now

[bedoballoons]

I’m back

I’m not sure if you write wlw or nblw/gnlw or anything like that but hear me out

anyway I was thinking, imagine the (fem! Or gn!) mechanic reader (yes my genshin self insert is a mechanic and I’m delulu) with lyney or Furina, or any other characters you wanna add if you want (idk how this works). Where the characters keep breaking things on purpose just so that the reader can come over and fix it and so they get to see reader. The reader catches on and teases the character. (You can make it lead to nfsw or not if you want ;) )

also I’ll give myself an emoji so here’s mine

-💫

I do any forms of relationships as long as they aren't incest or pedophilia! I absolutely love this idea!! I think it's super cute so I hope you don't mind but I decided to make it fluffy!! Enjoy and thank you for requesting <3

P.s Can I call you the starstruck anon?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Just one more thing before you go~༺}

CW: Super sweet fluff! Reader works as a mechanic and the characters keep calling them up to fix things so they can spend time with them!

(Includes: Lyney, Navia, and Furina!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney kneeled down beside you, trying his best not to get in your way as you worked on the latest broken thing in his home...he just couldn't help it. Whenever he was near you it was like his heart decided to do its own performance, beating faster and skipping whenever your eyes landed on him...because of this sometimes the simple machinery he used in his home...would mysteriously end up not working, "So how goes the fixing hmm? My apologies for having to call you out here again, usually I'd just have Freminet take a look but he's currently busy"

"Seems to me like someone's intentionally sabotaging your heater...they even left the screwdriver inside of it." You turned to him with a sly smirk playing on your features, holding the screwdriver up to him so he could read Freminets name from it. The blush that followed was so adorable you couldn't help but tease him a little, "If you wanted me to spend time with you Lyney, you could have just asked~"

𑁍༄Navia:

"I truly cannot thank you enough for coming to my rescue again. It seems every time you leave the Spina di Rosula has yet another problem to fix...of course it's not particularly a bad thing because I enjoy your company immensely." The beautiful blonde chuckled nervously, trying to get ahold of herself before she ended up confessing her feelings to you, she was honestly shocked she hadn't yet..

"I'm always here whenever you need me Navia, it's definitely not a bad thing for me. I get to hang out with a goregous woman and get VIP treatment from the Spina."

"You're always welcome to anything here at-...I'm sorry did you just call me goregous?"

"Well...I figured since you're always bringing me here to fix things you've clearly sabotaged, it's only fair a make a little advancement myself.~"

The poor girl's face heated up, you'd figured it out? How long had you known?! "I- oh my..."

𑁍༄Furina:

"I truthfully have no idea how anyone expects a archon to live under such conditions, every time I go to use something it's no longer working. If I didn't have you'd I'd surely have left this place for something better by now." Furina talked away while you worked, trying to act as normally abnormal as ever...even though inside her emotions were on a rampage. If only you knew she wanted so desperately to play the part of your lover more than any other role, she'd even sabotaged her own residence so she could see you more often.

"I actually believe I've found a solution to keep things from breaking...if the archon so wished to hear it."

She went dead silent, unable to fathom how you could possibly stop anything in her house from breaking, "The archon wishes to, even someone with my divinity can't even think how a simple human could make something no longer able to break, I'd love to see what maniac idea you've come up with."

"Its actually very easy, all I have to do is ask if you'd like to go out sometime. Then we could spend time together without you needing to break things~"

"I-i what on earth are you talking about? I wouldn't break something just to spend time with someone, I am a archon with a busy life. I don't have the time for such nons-"

"Lady Furina..."

"Yes?"

"You left your glove in the pipe."

"..."

"May I take you out on a date?"

"...yes you may..."

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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[tauvesims]

House of CB - Eclipse dress

Hey there!! i hope you are liking what i've been posting for you guys so far!I actually bought this dress for myself recently and I'm totally in love with it. I love it so much that I had to make it for you guys. It's from House of CB, which is literally my FAVORITE dress store, so there will probably be more stuff coming... One more thing before I leave you with the download, I don't know if you can see it well in the photos, but I managed to recreate the zipper from the original dress!!! I'm super proud of that. Anyway, I hope you love it as much as I do!

Lmk what you think down in the comments, i always read you!

You will get:

Eclipse Dress

11 Swatches / HQ Compatible

Female Frame / Teen - Elder

New mesh 

some ground rules:

do not- claim them as your own

do not- upload them anywhere for download

do- (if u end up downloading and using it) @ me so i can see you!

do- lmk if you have ANY problems :)

ENJOY!!

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DOWNLOAD ea: 29/06

[writingforrhys]

as you were

cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!

masterlist

Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.

He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.

The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.

There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.

Gods, he needed to find you.

He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.

He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.

Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?

The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.

"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"

His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.

"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.

No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.

And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.

"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"

A head shake.

"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"

Silence.

"Who."

You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.

"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."

"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.

"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."

The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.

"What did they say?"

You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.

Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.

Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.

"I'm off to kill some sisters."

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The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.

Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"

Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.

"You."

Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.

Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.

"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."

"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."

The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.

"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"

"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."

"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"

The room was silent. Elain was red.

A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.

"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.

"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.

"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.

Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.

Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.

Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.

"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.

"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."

"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."

"Neither did I, Rhys."

Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"

"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."

"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.

"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."

Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."

Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.

"Do not let me hear of this again."

And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.

The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.

Typical, Nesta thought.

"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."

She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.

"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.

"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."

"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.

"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."

He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.

"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."

Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.

"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."

And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.

You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.

Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.

He loved you just as you were.

[mischievouslymoony]

Hey! I love your writing and I saw your requests are open so I thought I’d have a go!

Could I request either a Wolfstar or poly marauders x reader fic where they take care of her when she is sick? I’m a sucker for a good hurt/comfort.

Thanks so much 🥰🥰🥰

I hope you enjoyed this!

CW: The reader is sick and the boys take care of them. Fem!reader. Lots of Comfort.

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Feverish Affection

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You weren't sure what hit you harder—the pounding headache or the intense fever that left you shivering one moment and burning up the next. Every muscle in your body ached, and you were wrapped in a tangle of blankets, cocooned in bed. Your throat was raw, and your voice almost nonexistent as you tried to call for help.

The door creaked open slowly, and Remus poked his head in, eyes immediately softening when he saw the state you were in.

"Hey, love," his voice was low, soothing as he stepped fully into the room, closely followed by Sirius and James. The three of them had been studying in the common room, but as soon as they heard you weren’t feeling well, they dropped everything to check on you.

Sirius walked over to the side of the bed, concern replacing his usual carefree expression. "Merlin, you look awful," he said, though the teasing in his voice was still there. He leaned over, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Definitely a fever.”

Remus swatted at Sirius gently. "Stop pestering her. Let me handle this." He crouched down beside the bed, his touch far more gentle as he brushed a damp strand of hair off your forehead and rested his hand against your cheek, frowning at the heat radiating from your skin. "You’re burning up."

James, carrying a tray loaded with soup, tea, and a cold compress, came up next to the bed. "We've got everything you need. Figured we'd make a day out of it and pamper you," he said, smiling at you with that boyish charm that always managed to lift your spirits.

You tried to smile back, but even that felt like too much effort. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from hours of barely speaking.

“Of course we did,” Sirius said, pulling a chair closer to your bed and sitting down with a flourish. “We can’t have our favorite girl feeling this miserable.”

"Besides," Remus added, adjusting the pillows behind you, "you’ve always taken care of us. It’s only fair we return the favor." He gently helped you sit up, leaning against the fresh pillows. "Here, sip on this," he handed you a cup of tea, the warmth radiating through your hands instantly soothing your chills.

James pulled up a chair beside Sirius, looking satisfied that you'd taken the tea. "We’re staying with you until you’re feeling better, so get comfortable," he said. His protective nature always shone through in moments like this, and you couldn’t help but feel safe knowing he was there.

You sipped the tea slowly, feeling the warmth travel down your throat. Sirius, not content with just sitting, started rummaging through your bedside table, pulling out an old book. "Perfect time for a story," he declared, dramatically flipping through the pages.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. “She’s barely conscious, I doubt she’s in the mood for one of your terrible reads.”

"On the contrary, I think a dramatic tale of adventure and romance is exactly what she needs," Sirius shot back, plopping down onto the bed next to you with the book in hand.

Before you could even protest, Sirius began narrating in his overly theatrical voice. The story was ridiculous, but his voice soothed you, and despite the pounding headache, you felt your body relaxing under the warmth of the blankets and their presence.

Remus sat next to you, his hand still resting on your shoulder, occasionally brushing his fingers through your hair as a quiet reassurance that he was there. You leaned into his touch, comforted by the small gestures of affection.

"You should try and eat something," James suggested after a while, holding the bowl of soup toward you. "You’ll feel better once you’ve got something warm in your stomach."

You shook your head slightly, feeling too exhausted to eat, but James wasn't having it. "C’mon, just a few bites." His voice was firm but gentle, the perfect mix of authority and care. With a sigh, you took the spoon from him and managed a few sips, and despite your reluctance, the warm broth did soothe the aches just a little.

Sirius, taking advantage of the situation, slung an arm over your shoulder and grinned. "See? We're practically miracle workers." His tone was teasing, but the fondness in his eyes was unmistakable.

“You all spoil me,” you muttered, your head now resting against Remus' shoulder. The exhaustion was pulling you under again, the warmth of their care wrapping around you more effectively than any blanket could.

“Only because we love you,” Remus whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. His voice was low, barely audible over the crackling of the fire in the distance, but the sentiment filled the room.

“Yeah, and because you’d do the same for us,” James added, always the reliable one. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching over you as if he were on guard duty.

Sirius stretched out beside you, flipping through the book lazily, but you could feel his eyes darting to you every few seconds. He was keeping an eye on you in his own way, making sure you were comfortable and safe.

You felt yourself drifting off, lulled by their quiet conversation and the steady comfort of their presence. Before you slipped fully into sleep, you mumbled, "I’m lucky to have you."

“Not as lucky as we are to have you,” Sirius said with a smirk, but his voice softened as he tucked the blankets tighter around you.

Remus squeezed your hand, and James placed the now-empty bowl on your bedside table, watching you settle into sleep with a satisfied smile. "Rest up. We’re not going anywhere."

And with them by your side, you knew that no matter how bad things got, you'd always have them taking care of you.

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