#out of rum (ooc)

[radiaking]

coop is obvs partial to the good girls (and guys tbh) but he is not immune to the Bad Girls(TM) either....they just can't be like. evil.

[drachenxfutter]

Sooo I'm - slowly, because my net is crap unfortunately and it keeps disconnecting - watching SE3 of the Witcher, and now I've a need lol... anyone here has a Radovid muse they would like to write shippy things with my Jaskier?

[flighty-sparrow]

So, those who've followed me/have known me for a while know I have an AU where Jack is half-siren... but where did that idea come from?

Well... ^^"" in The Price of Freedom, Jack is described as someone who has a good singing voice, also the fact that he can talk himself out of tough situations. So with that being canon, I thought... ,,what if Jack's mother was a siren?"

And bam. That's how that AU was born 😂

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

[sh4nksslvt]

Hi, can you do a Benn Beckman-X-Reader piece, please?

Something about Beckman not expecting to fall in love and keeps trying to deny it and the reader isn't even trying but it happens anyway?

Beckman at his current (50), reader can be any adult age.

& if possible, Shanks being an ass about it & teasing Beckman relentlessly or something.

not much but hope u like it~ (●'◡'●)

Late Bloom

Benn Beckman didn’t expect to fall in love again—least of all with you, the new recruit who wasn't even trying. And of course, Shanks noticed.

Benn Beckman X gn!reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, ooc, age gap, unexpected love a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The Red Force swayed gently on the New World, the sun painting golden stripes over its deck. It was one of those rare, lazy days between island raids and drink-fueled tavern chaos.

Benn Beckman leaned against the railing, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips, eyes half-lidded as he watched the sea. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

Until your laugh broke the air.

He didn’t mean to glance over. Really. But his head turned of its own accord, a stubborn old reflex his body had yet to unlearn since you joined the crew. And there you were: seated cross-legged on a barrel, half-drenched from a water bucket prank Lucky Roux had just pulled, laughing like the world was made for joy. You looked up, wiping seawater from your face, and smiled at Benn in passing.

He immediately looked away.

Goddammit.

“Problem, old man?” Shanks leaned beside him, tipping a bottle of rum against Benn’s bicep.

“Don’t call me that,” Benn muttered, exhaling smoke.

Shanks followed his line of sight, spotted you still giggling with the crew, then whistled low and smug. “You know, for someone who’s always lecturing me about ‘discipline’ and ‘not mixing business with pleasure,’ you stare like a lovesick schoolboy.”

“’m not staring.”

“Yer sulking then. Even worse.”

“I’m not—” Benn shut up, scowling.

Shanks grinned wider. “Face it. You’re smitten. With the new recruit no less. Twenty-five, energetic, dangerously charming—reminds me of me at that age.”

Benn rolled his eyes. “You were an idiot at that age.”

“And yet here we are, me being right.”

You had no idea.

Well, not really.

You just liked Benn. He was cool. Quiet. Mysterious. The type that didn’t speak unless necessary but always listened. The type who offered you a towel before you even realized you needed one, who pulled you behind cover during a skirmish like it was second nature. Who corrected your aim once by gently guiding your elbow from behind, and left your heart thundering for an hour.

But you never tried anything. He was twice your age and carried himself like a war-hardened mountain. If he wanted you, you figured, he’d say something.

Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

It started with little things.

Benn would pass by you in the corridor and mutter, “Eat something,” like it wasn’t the third time he’d noticed you skipping meals.

You’d grumble, “Yes, Dad,” but then find a plate of food mysteriously placed near your hammock.

He’d always end up walking beside you during port landings, even if you’d started out ten feet apart.

He’d grunt when you fell asleep on deck after a night of drinking, but throw his coat over you anyway.

You were starting to think he wasn’t as indifferent as he acted.

Benn Beckman was annoyed.

With himself, mostly.

This was not supposed to happen. He’d had his youth. He’d had flings, lovers, flares of passion burned out by time and life and war. He’d made peace with that. He had the sea. He had his crew. He had Shanks.

And now, suddenly, he had you—bright, loud, impossible you—occupying more mental real estate than any enemy plan or tactical maneuver.

And of course, Shanks had noticed.

“You’re scowling again,” Shanks said one night, stretching out beside him on the deck, drunk and smug.

“I always scowl.”

“No, this is the ‘why do I have this feelings’ scowl. Big difference.”

“Shanks—”

“She’s not even trying, you know. That’s the best part.”

Benn gritted his teeth.

“You ever consider,” Shanks continued, “just…telling them? Instead of glowering from corners like a wounded bear?”

“It’s not like that,” Benn said, voice tight.

“Sure it’s not.” Shanks slapped his shoulder, laughing. “You’re in so deep, it’s hilarious DAHAHAHA.”

One night, it happened.

You were sitting on the mast beam, swinging your legs, watching the stars. Benn approached quietly, hands in his pockets. You smiled when he climbed up beside you—surprisingly agile for someone his age, not that you were counting.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not really,” you murmured. “Too many thoughts.”

“About?”

You shrugged. “Life. My place here. Wondering if I’m doing well enough. If I belong.”

Benn was silent a moment.

“You do,” he said firmly.

You blinked.

“You belong,” he repeated, not looking at you. “You’re sharp, reliable. You keep your head in fights. And…you make the crew better. Happier.”

Your chest warmed. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”

Benn finally looked at you then. The moonlight touched half his face, making his silver hair gleam. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something you’d never seen before—vulnerable, almost soft.

“I didn’t expect…” he started, then trailed off.

“Didn’t expect?”

He exhaled. “To feel this. Again. Not at my age. Not like this.”

You blinked.

“Oh,” you said dumbly.

He gave a half-laugh. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ I know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you said quickly. “Just…surprising. But not bad. Never bad.”

Benn raised an eyebrow. “You’re okay with it? With me?”

“I’ve liked you since the third island,” you admitted. “But you were all ‘grr’ and serious and unreadable. I thought maybe you just hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I got that part now, thanks.”

You smiled shyly. Benn’s hand brushed yours, tentative, like he didn’t quite believe this was real. When you laced your fingers with his, he squeezed gently.

From somewhere below deck, Shanks let out a loud, drawn-out wolf whistle.

You groaned. “Ugh...He was eavesdropping, wasn’t he?”

“Probably since the third island,” Benn muttered.

The next morning, Shanks strutted around like a peacock on sake.

“Well, well, well,” he sang, arm draped around both of you at breakfast. “My first mate’s finally a man again!”

Benn grunted into his coffee.

You snorted. “I don’t think he ever stopped being a man.”

Shanks gaped. “Oh my god, they’re already defending him. You’re doomed, Benn.”

Benn didn’t reply. He just tugged you a little closer, deadpan as always, and muttered:

“Shut up, Shanks.”

A week later…

“You’re glowing,” Lucky Roux teased you while polishing a dagger.

“I’m not glowing.”

“You are,” Yasopp agreed. “It’s like your aura changed. You’re smug.”

“I am not smug!”

“You’re sleeping in Benn’s room.”

You dropped your spoon.

“We heard you snoring. And him not snoring. Suspicious.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Roux said. “Just not like you love Beckman.”

You moaned dramatically.

Behind them, Benn leaned against the doorframe with a small smile, watching you suffer with the patience of a saint and the pride of a man whose crew was clearly rooting for him.

When you saw him, you blushed. “Help me.”

“Nope,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re on your own.”

“You traitor.”

He chuckled, took a drag, and added, “But I’ll walk you to bed.”

The crew exploded into teasing hoots.

Shanks sat beside Benn again on the deck, watching stars and counting empty bottles.

“You’re smiling again,” Shanks said, nudging him.

“I always smile.”

“Liar.”

They were quiet a while.

“You happy, old man?”

Benn exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect it, huh?”

“No. But…maybe that’s the point.”

Shanks smiled at that. “A late bloom’s still a bloom, eh?”

Benn looked down toward the sleeping quarters, where your laugh had just echoed faintly. He felt warmth in his chest—unfamiliar, dangerous, and beautiful.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

[avengerstowerarchives]

some protector | haymitch abernathy x reader

word count. 9.9k 

pairing. haymitch abernathy x fem!reader 

summary. overwhelmed by the feeling of caring for someone and fearful that snow will notice, haymitch drives you away. in the years that follow, haymitch still finds himself looking out for you. based on “some protector” by role model.

warnings. sotr spoilers. normal haymitch trauma stuff? mild violence. references to sa within the context of capitol prostitution/slavery (like with finnick and the other victors). mentions of vomiting? 

notes: jumps between present and past–might get kind of confusing, sorry! flashbacks are in italics. if haymitch seems ooc it’s probably because i wrote this when i was sad and didn’t have access to any source material.

part two. | read on ao3. 

—--------------------------

At least he didn’t throw rocks this time. Alone aside from a cluster of empty beer bottles, Haymitch leaned back against his couch and smiled wryly to himself. Getting you to leave without having to resort to violence had been a victory—he knew you’d be more stubborn than the Everdeens. 

His mind briefly returned to Asterid Everdeen and a stone hurled in drunken desperation, and he ignored the shame rising in his throat. It was far from his finest moment, but it was a necessary one. 

Shaking his head, he cracked open another beer, hoping a fourth drink would be enough to help him forget what it felt like to have company.

Every time you came around, curtains stayed open to let the light in and the kitchen smelled like fresh bread, but the alcohol stopped working. Haymitch felt something he hadn’t felt in years—protective. He finally had something worth taking. 

Then the nightmares intensified, and he saw faces he spent a decade too drunk to process—Ampert, Maysilee, Wyatt, and Louella—his sweetheart. But somehow, Lenore Dove and her ballad stopped coming around. 

On his worst nights, all he could see was you: your trembling hand at the District 3 reaping as you volunteered for a weeping twelve year old, your sunshine yellow dress in the Capitol parade, and you and the male District 1 tribute balancing on a thick tree branch, two of your knives attempting to push back a sword. 

In Haymitch’s dreams, you didn’t win that fight. As it had been every year prior, his flask was his lifeline through the 59th Hunger Games. But years afterward, he dreamt of your arena in technicolor anyway. 

And when he dreamt of flames, instead of his Ma and Sid, he saw your third-floor Capitol apartment, too far gone for the firefighters to reach. So Haymitch kept drinking. 

You’d chided him for his alcohol dependency, but he upped the intake—whiskey, wine, vodka, rum, even Teddy Branson’s moonshine again—anything he could get his hands on. Still the nightmares kept coming. 

He mustered up his gruffest facade to drive you away, but you still appeared on his doorstep bearing fruit for the disgusting protein smoothies Effie wanted him to drink and an insistence that his twelfth-floor windows had the best view. You deflected his sharp insults with quick retorts and freshly baked muffins.

But the meadow was the final straw. The night after the 65th Reaping, Haymitch woke up with a drenched brow and his heart thundering in his chest. He blinked away visions of crimson gumdrops and coughed up blood staining blades of grass. Visions of you. Not Lenore Dove, you. It felt like betrayal. 

Haymitch couldn’t let you hang around after that. 

The next time you let yourself into his house—today—he ensured it would be the last. Instead of hurling insults, he resorted to bluntness. He didn’t shout. He didn’t drag you out the door or chase you with a bottle in hand. 

He told you point blank that you weren’t wanted, calling you a bother and admitting that he’d finally had enough. He was lying through his teeth, but his grave expression caught you so off guard that you didn’t think to question it. 

You left his Capitol suite living room with eyes sad enough to make a grown man cry, but all he felt was relief. I’m sorry, Lenore Dove. She’s gone now. 

Though the apology eased his mind a bit, he still couldn’t shake the foreign feeling of guilt. It was like a pebble in his boot—too small to be significant, but still inconvenient enough that it couldn’t be totally ignored. 

Haymitch shook his head again to clear his mind. The condensation on the neck of the bottle dampened his fingers as he tightened his grip. The sensation reminded him of your tears, but he told himself he’d much rather see tears on your cheek than blood on your temple. 

Haymitch glanced at the empty beer case on his coffee table. Should’ve gotten more than a five pack. 

| (Am I guilty? Am I sorry?)

  (Do I miss you at the party?) 

  Yes I am, and I always will

A trio of Capitol women with varying shades of neon green hair shrieked with laughter at the sound of crashing glass. Haymitch barely batted an eye as the horde of Capitol elites jeered at the 65th victor, some teenaged boy from District 4 sitting in an ornamental fish tank. 

Haymitch hadn’t bothered to learn tribute names during the games–he’d learn the winner’s from the victory propaganda. There wasn’t a point in learning the rest anyway. 

“Finnick! Over here!” A man clothed in polar bear fur rapped on the glass of the tank, grinning wildly. “I sponsored you in the games—I sent the steak!” 

“They always—” Haymitch glanced to his left to make a jab at the Capitol elite when he realized the stool beside him was empty. His mouth drew into a grim line before he threw back the contents of his glass and signaled the bartender for another. 

In his defense, you used to stay glued to his side at functions like this since you were the Games’ newest victor. Swapping sarcastic comments with you had become a reflex. Even before you began inviting yourself into his house, you crashed a multitude of his parties. 

On the night the two of you meet, Haymitch finds a spot in the darkest corner of the room before loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt. 

Once he feels like he can breathe again, he takes a large sip of the brandy in his glass. 

“Heard you know your alcohol. Which one’s the strongest?” Without warning, you appear by his elbow, stumbling into the cocktail table he stands behind. 

If Haymitch wasn’t wasted, he would’ve startled at your voice yelling in his ear to overcome the music blaring overhead. The alcohol makes him immovably apathetic. 

Maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear, you’ll just go away. He did not want the Capitol’s newest darling following him like a lost puppy. Maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear, you’ll leave him in peace. 

The impracticality of your heels have you gripping the edge of the tabletop to prevent it from tipping over. Your stylist had dressed you in an obnoxiously voluminous green tulle dress that was meant to make you look like a forest fairy, or whatever Elodie had called it. The sheer material doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Your tiara slides slightly as you tilt your head, waiting for his response. 

He simply grabs his glass and takes a long sip, rescuing it from the wobbling table. 

Your eyes narrow, accepting the challenge. You needed this advice. Your mentor warned you about what Snow did with the Capitol’s favorites, and you knew only drinking would get you through it. 

Leaning in closer, you raise your voice slightly and force him to acknowledge you. “Just give me a drink to order and I’ll leave you to brood in peace.” 

Haymitch wonders what he possibly could’ve done to make himself look approachable. Was he losing his edge at twenty-five? “Didn’t your parents teach you about ‘stranger danger’?” 

“Bold of you to assume they lived long enough to teach me.” 

Haymitch doesn’t dignify your quip with platitudes, nor does he spare a glance at your ridiculous ensemble. He returns to ignoring you. You kind of respect that. 

Shrugging, you explain, “Look, Beetee refuses to come to these things, but he said you’d be the best drinking partner of the lot.” 

The mention of Ampert’s father has Haymitch’s shoulders stiffening. You notice how his fingers twitch around his glass, but don’t pry. “Come on, Abernathy. Just say a couple words and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Boy, were you stubborn. “Did it ever occur to you that Beetee might’ve been making a joke?” 

“Do you really think Beetee would make a joke?” 

Haymitch sighs, “Meeks, get the kid a vodka soda. And you—get out of my face.” 

“You ordered me a pop? Seriously?” You ignore Haymitch’s demand that you leave him alone and wrinkle your nose at the drink set before you. He gives you a pointed look, and you raise the glass to your lips, downing half the glass in one go.

Big mistake. 

Haymitch watches, slightly amused at your naïveté as you lean over, coughing violently. “You’ve never drank before, have you? That should teach you to stop bothering me.” 

You send him a nasty look in response, and in a miraculous moment of kindness, he orders you a glass of water. The hit on your pride is immense, but at least you didn’t throw up all over his shoes. “Just you wait, Twelve—I’ll be able to drink you under the table in no time.” 

After that first night, you ran into him at enough parties that you made good on that promise. By the next time you saw him, you could handle your high heels and your alcohol. 

At a sponsor’s party celebrating the 62nd Games, you maintain your tradition of joining Haymitch in the corner. 

“Hey, Twelve.” Once again, you materialize out of nowhere, this time with a whole bottle of bourbon. You know the nickname bothers him–an obnoxious reminder that he is the lone victor of the twelfth district. You use it anyway. 

When he doesn’t respond, you say simply, “Haven’t seen you since the last one.”

Haymitch sighs. “What do you want, Princess?” 

You hardly bat an eye at his biting tone. Somehow his rudeness makes the Capitol’s nickname for you slightly more bearable. 

“Still as charming as ever.” You uncork the bottle before pouring a generous amount into your glass. When you twist it toward him, he accepts your offer grudgingly. “I brought my own drink. Tophir never gives out anything strong enough—he’s stingy.” 

Haymitch raises his glass to you mockingly before taking a sip, but says nothing. Once again, he wonders what in the world you could’ve possibly seen to make you want to talk to him. Finally, he asks, “Did Mags send you over here to bother me?” 

“I’ve noticed that people tend to steer clear of you, and I wanted to use those bad vibes for good.” You roll your eyes before adding, “I love Mags, but not enough to do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

“I doubt anything you do comes from the goodness of your heart.” An image of you volunteering at your reaping pops into his brain. 

To his annoyance, you shrug it off. “Like anyone else here is different. Well, maybe Mags.”

 You finish off your glass and reach for the bottle. Haymitch grabs it before you can, refilling his cup and setting the bottle back down on the table. 

Eyes narrowing, you shoot him a look, though there isn’t any fire behind it. “You couldn’t even pour me one?” 

“Property tax, Princess.” 

“Your company is not worth that much.” 

Haymitch shakes his head. “You’re the one that came over here.” 

Suddenly, a hand rests on the small of your back before trailing up to the back of your neck, cutting off your response. You shudder as one of your regular clients whispers in your ear, “I paid Snow for the rest of the evening, Princess.” 

 He catches you so off guard that you flinch before you can stop yourself. You hope he’ll dismiss your shaking as excitement. The corseted blue dress Elodie tied you into earlier feels suffocating, and you take a slow breath. 

Haymitch remains expressionless, but he feels disgust bubbling in his stomach as he examines the man behind you. The Capitol man’s designer blue suit and slicked back hair reek of arrogance. 

For the first time in ten years, alcohol fails to make Haymitch numb. The worst part of it all is your expression. Immediately, you fix your face and any trace of discomfort is gone, replaced by a forced smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“At least let her stick around till the bourbon’s done,” Haymitch slurs, attempting to play the alcoholic card. 

The other man eyes him warily, tightening his grip on you. You understand what Haymitch is trying to do, and deep down you both know it isn’t going to work. 

Unflinching, you bare your teeth into a forced smile that the man behind you doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s fine, Twelve, I’ll leave the rest of it here with you.” 

It doesn’t matter that Haymitch can’t find words to respond with because then you’re gone. You avoid his gaze, and he looks away as you let the man lead you up the stairs. 

Haynitch downs the rest of the bourbon straight from the bottle, not bothering to pour it into his glass. 

The next morning, you find a brand new bottle waiting outside of your door. No note is tied to its neck, but you know who sent it. Miraculously, your lips crack into a half smile. Maybe Haymitch Abernathy has a heart after all. 

The neon-haired women scream again and more glass shatters, snapping Haymitch out of his reverie. He tore his gaze away from the empty seat beside him before grabbing a full bottle of bourbon by the neck and retreating to his apartment. 

None of the other guests noticed except for one. After watching him slip out of the room, you stepped out of your hiding place and stood near Finnick, who had been moved from the oversized fishbowl into a gilded fishnet. 

The whole affair has you feeling nauseous, but you push aside your panic to slip your hand between the gaps and give his fingers a comforting squeeze. The fourteen year-old shoots you a brief half smile, but you can feel that he’s shaking. 

There’s nothing you can do except comfort him in the morning. Your mouth sets into a grim line. 

Haymitch had the right idea with the bourbon. 

| (Am I dragging this forever? 

   Am I thinking 'bout September?) 

Haymitch kept leaving bourbon on your doorstep on what he knew to be your worst nights, but after he kicked you out of his life, the amount of bourbon on his shelves never returned to normal. He never minded drinking for two…or five. 

His drinking habits remained the same, but his house had certainly changed. Takeout boxes increased, as did piles of dirty clothes. The curtains stayed drawn, the kitchen cabinets sat empty, and he set a personal record for the most alcohol bottles ever accumulated in his living room with every passing day.

All the while, Haymitch pretended he didn’t notice, and his biweekly trips to town to restock his alcohol cabinet increased. 

Victor’s Village had never felt so isolated, despite the fact that he’d been the only resident for fifteen years. Well…for the most part. 

After the 63rd Games, Haymitch spends exactly one relatively peaceful week in solitude before he jolts awake to the sound of a fist pounding on his front door. 

Wiping sleep out of his eyes, Haymitch takes his sweet time getting to the door. If the Peacekeepers want to see him this early in the morning, he plans to make them wait. Haymitch pulls on a shirt slowly, scowling as the knocking grows louder and the throbbing in his skull increases accordingly. 

When he whips open the door, instead of standing face to face with a district peacekeeper, he’s met with the sight of you grinning in a zip-up hoodie and sweats and surrounded by a multitude of paper bags. You lift your chin as a greeting, adjusting the duffle bag on your shoulder and waiting for him to let you in. “Haymitch.” 

“What’re you doing here, Kid? And why so early?” His anger falters slightly at the initial surprise, but it returns at the sight of the slowly rising sun. 

You don’t appreciate being called a kid, but you let it slide. After seeing your interaction with the man at Tophir’s party, Haymitch decided to never call you “Princess” again, and you quietly returned the favor by tossing the nickname “Twelve.”

“Mags sent me. ‘M here out of the goodness of my heart and all that.” You slip past him into the house before he can stop you. 

Haymitch’s neutral but sleepy expression hides his mental calculations. After concluding that sending you away will be more difficult than scaring off the people of Twelve, he crosses his arms and waits for you to explain yourself. 

You slide your sunglasses onto the top of your head and set down several grocery bags before assessing the damage. You note the remnants of sleep in his eyes and the half-conscious scowl on his face. This might just be the most sober you’ve ever seen him. 

Dirty dishes are spread out on the table and overflow in the kitchen sink while empty bottles surround his couch like a barricade. The kitchen looks unused, and there’s even a cobweb growing in one corner of the ceiling.

“Seriously, Abernathy, how can you live like this? You got back from the Capitol last Tuesday!” 

“Mags sent you to babysit? At sunrise?” Haymitch ignores your questions, too shocked to do anything about your unwelcome entrance. You are one of the first people to see the inside of the house since he moved in thirteen years ago. 

“Well, the sunrise part was my fault–I’m an early riser.” You begin emptying the grocery bags, placing ingredients in the refrigerator and cabinets. “I’m supposed to make sure you don’t swallow your tongue or something like that.” 

Haymitch runs a hand over his face. Now he definitely needs a drink. He pushes past you to retrieve a bottle of vodka.

“At seven in the morning? Seriously?” Your left eyebrow rises in disbelief. Shaking your head with a slight grin, you roll up your sleeves and turn on the sink before lathering soap with a sponge. “Mags is right, you really do need an intervention.” 

“Hey!” Haymitch snaps. “You’re in my house at this godforsaken hour and I didn’t tell you to come in, so shut up and get out.” 

Shouting doesn’t scare you anymore. Instead of running out the door, you smile more widely and the glint in your eyes has Haymitch internally bracing himself. “You’re horrifically hungover, aren’t you?” 

His frown deepens as he reaches for a glass of water. He did not like your tone. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ll try to speak more quietly,” You promise, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. Just as he takes a sip from his glass, you bang two pots together, the clang loud enough to fill the room. “Oops.” 

Haymitch scowls, letting out a curse as he lifts his free hand to clutch his head. “Get out of my house!” 

You ignore him and continue scrubbing the dishes. Little does he know that your dispatcher wasn’t Mags at all–it was Effie. The escort admitted she was at her wits end trying to make him presentable during the games, but recently she had begun to worry about his drinking problem and what it meant for his odds of survival. 

She didn’t find your quip that “at least Haymitch is consistent” very amusing. Instead of laughing, she insisted that you might have a better chance at helping him than she did. The bourbon had to count for something, after all. 

Between your growing curiosity about Haymitch’s life outside of the Capitol and Effie’s promise that she would get you out of your night work so that you could watch Haymitch in District 12, you found yourself with an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

While you begin scrubbing a grimy cast-iron skillet, Haymitch’s thudding footsteps leave the room. 

“Keep drinking water!” You call over your shoulder. You start humming quietly while you do the dishes. 

Once you’re finished, you step into the living room and round up his collection of empty bottles. 

Unsurprisingly, Haymitch is nowhere to be found. 

“It’s honestly not as bad as I thought it would be,” You declare loudly. You’re met with silence. A backhanded “compliment” isn’t enough to provoke him this morning. Unbothered, you pull back the curtains for some natural light and get to work cleaning the windows. 

Later, over eggs and toast, Haymitch grudgingly engages you in conversation. He’d hoped that if he ignored you long enough, you’d leave, but he should’ve known by now that you were too persistent for that. 

He scowls, “Did your folks in Three finally have enough? How’d Mags get you here?” 

“Free vacation.” You pointedly ignore his question about your family. 

“Twelve is no vacation, Sweetheart.” The scoff slips out of him so quickly that he doesn’t process the nickname till after he’s said it. 

“This is an intervention, not a proposal, Abernathy.” You dismiss the moment flippantly, and he’s grateful. 

His slip of the tongue has him ready to kick you out of the house again, but before he can usher you out the door, you’re on your feet, venturing further into his house in search of laundry. 

He barks your name from the kitchen. You hear the scrape of his chair as he pushes it away from the table, followed by the slam of his glass as he downs more vodka before following you. “What’re you doing now? Don’t go upstairs!” 

You stop at the base of the staircase, hanging onto the railing as you lean back to look at him. “I’m threatening to do your laundry so that you feel insulted enough to do it yourself. Mags said it might work.” 

That was actually all you, but it was worth a shot.

Haymitch huffs, “You wouldn’t. No vacation is worth that.” 

“Watch me. Anything’s a vacation compared to the Capitol.” As usual, your biting sarcasm reveals a bit of truth. 

Haymitch runs a hand over his face, sighing again. He has a feeling he’ll be doing that a lot. If you’re going to insist on staying Twelve, he’s going to make you pick another house to stay in. Preferably as far away as possible.

Half a bottle of scotch later, Haymitch attempts to bargain, suggesting that you stay in Twelve but lie to Mags and leave him alone.  

His suggestion falls on obstinate ears. You clutch imaginary pearls. “I can’t believe you would cross that line, Abernathy. Mags is an angel, and anyone who lies to her is going to hell.” 

Haymitch can’t tell if you’re serious, but none of it really matters because you’re still here and he has no idea how to get rid of you. He can’t afford to make too much of a scene, and he doesn’t have the energy to bury a body. “Fine. If you’re staying in Twelve, just keep out of my hair.” 

“Are you sure? You look like you might need help wash—” 

“Watch it, Kid.” He cuts you off, shooting you a nasty glare before lifting his glass. 

You smirk, but don’t finish making the jab. “I’m going to take a look at the garden. If I’ll be stuck here babysitting you, I might as well get a new hobby.” 

Haymitch makes no move to stop you, letting out his hundredth sigh of the day as he swirls the liquid in his glass. 

You seem to think that he’s all bark and no bite, and it’s not like he can carry out a threat of violence because you’re a victor for crying out loud. Your handlers have every inch of your body insured. 

You’re stubborn, and Haymitch decides he isn’t sober enough to deal with you right now. Hopefully you’ll grow bored in a couple of days and you’ll leave on your own accord (you don’t). 

Even so, he realizes your position as one of the Capitol’s most prized victors should keep you relatively safe. And it’s not like he cares about you anyway. That’s as safe as you can get. 

One morning in mid-September, Haymitch jolted awake at the crack of dawn. He’d forgotten to close his curtains all the way after falling asleep on the couch, and the early morning sunlight shined through the window enough to disturb his sleep. 

As he watched the sky turn from a dark charcoal to a mix of hazy pink and fiery orange, he found himself half-expecting a knock on his front door. Once he processed the thought, he pulled himself to his feet to retrieve his first beer of the day. 

Muttering to himself, he blamed it on a lack of alcohol rather than the loneliness that had arrived in your absence. 

| (Am I wrecking reputation while you're making reservations?) 

When you suddenly found yourself freed from the responsibility of looking out for Haymitch, you resolved to dedicate all of your energy to your mentees. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the most efficient and profitable way to do that was to take advantage of the networking opportunities Snow unintentionally but literally dropped into your lap. 

If the Capitol was going to auction off your body every night, you might as well take some of the profits. So you did. 

Haymitch first witnessed your tactics during the 66th Hunger Games. You’d done your best to fulfill your promise to never bother him again, but the thought of you still left a tightness in his chest. 

At one of the Capitol viewing parties, he caught a glimpse of you from afar, cozying up to a man in a gold suit. Haymitch immediately recognized the heterochromatic blue and brown eyes and cobalt blue hair. 

The sponsor whose wallet you were trying to service is Hyraclis Roman, one of Panem’s wealthiest businessmen. 

Businessman was a generous title, Haymitch thought, because all Hyraclis did was moderate one of the Capitol’s largest betting systems during the Games. He took a steep cut off the wagers and made enough to live less than a mile from Snow’s mansion. Worst of all, Hyraclis Roman used his profits to buy a night with the victors—the children—he bet on, and everyone knew it. 

You hated Hyraclis Roman, so when Haymitch noticed your legs draped across the gambler’s lap and the possessive hand on your leg, he thought he might’ve finally drank his max and gone to hell. 

Haymitch grabbed hold of the vodka bottle on the table to his right before taking a long drink. 

When you threw your head back in a laugh before resting your hand on Hyraclis’ chest and leaning forward slightly, Haymitch’s jaw clenched.

In response, Hyraclis grinned eagerly at you with dark eyes and moved his palm a bit higher. Haymitch shuddered with disgust, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the two of you. 

Though Hyraclis did his best to monopolize your attention, you could feel Haymitch’s eyes on you, and your cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and frustration. 

While you’d prefer for Hyraclis to never have his hands on you at all, Snow made that an impossibility.

If these men were going to put their hands on you regardless of your consent, you were going to take as much of their money as you could. 

You knew that if you could only explain it to Haymitch, he would understand. But you couldn’t, so you sat there and pretended you didn’t see him staring with a bottle of vodka.

Haymitch felt ready to bash Hyraclis over the head with it given the opportunity, but you mistook the blond’s protectivenesss for judgment. 

Naturally, Hyraclis interpreted the red tinge on your cheeks as excitement. When he leaned forward and pressed a long kiss on your neck, your stomach lurched and you turned away from Haymitch. 

Later, you leave the party with Hyraclis’ hand pawing your waist and consider telling Snow that you’ll never do this sort of thing again. 

But when you wake up the next day and Hyraclis writes you a hefty check for you to use for your tributes, you force yourself to be pleasant. 

After a month full of nights like that one, the District 3 male tribute wins the 66th Hunger Games, and somehow you find the strength to endure Snow’s exploitation. From then on, you appeal to the affections of more clients, and Haymitch watches. 

| Yes I am, and I always will

When the male from District 8, Kross, thrust his javelin into the heart of your tribute during the 69th games, you screamed. 

The sound was enough to jolt Haymitch into a state miraculously close to sobriety, and his gaze immediately shifted away from the footage on the flatscreens. 

After ten years as a mentor by the age of twenty-eight, the losses shouldn’t have caught you off guard anymore. Everyone in the room knew that, which is why you’d earned disgusted looks from the sponsors. 

Sure, the kindest mentors like Mags cared for their tributes and equipped them for survival as well as they could, but the seasoned veterans learned how to guard their hearts early into their lifelong sentence. Snow labeled emotional outbursts from mentors as inappropriate behavior. Capitol citizens could cheer and weep; Mentors could not.

Scandalized gasps filled the room as you crumpled to your knees, and a horrified whisper observed that your mascara was running. The lack of decorum wouldn’t do you well in the next support raising cycle.

Your fellow District 3 mentor and District 3 escort froze, unsure what to do, but definitely unwilling to compromise their positions.  

As you stared at the screen, you forgot everything Beetee and Mags had ever told you about shielding your emotions. You were too distraught to realize how this would nullify your flirtation with the sponsors, much less how it might provoke Snow. 

This wasn’t the first time one of your tributes had made it to the top five and been killed, but this kill was particularly brutal. This year’s reaping sent your former classmate’s daughter into the arena—an eighteen year old girl named Tesla, who had been one year away from escaping the reaping forever. She was the same age you’d been when you won your Games.  

Instead of letting one thrust of his spear be enough, Kross wrenched his javelin out of Tesla’s chest before going in for another strike. And another, and another, and another. He used so much force that you could hear it. 

You pressed your palm to your mouth to quiet your screams, cringing at the feeling of bile rising up in your throat. 

Though it had been years since you had spoken more than three words to Haymitch, he found himself crouching by your side as the other mentors looked on, their faces a mix of stoicism and pity. 

Kross’ mentor, Cecilia, sent you an apologetic look that you couldn’t see, and Finnick’s eyes shone with relief at Haymitch’s unexpected display of empathy. 

After Finnick won his Games, you made him vow to never get into trouble on your behalf, but at eighteen, the resilience hadn’t been crushed out of him yet. If Haymitch hadn’t moved when he did, Finnick’s brotherly instincts would have moved him to your side. 

The room filled with loud whispers, but Haymitch cast aside any worries about what they might be saying. His main concern was to get their attention off of you so that Snow would have less to punish you for. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, so he grabbed your elbow and pulled you to your feet. “Come on, (Y/n). You gotta move.” He spoke quietly enough that only you could hear. 

He assumed you wouldn’t accept his help, but your body reverted to the old habit of treating him like someone safe, and you weren’t present enough to remember that you avoided him now. 

All of the eyes in the room were on the two of you as he guided you out of the spotlight with an arm around your shoulders, pressing you to his side to hold you up and shield you from view. To the rest of the room, this uncharacteristic softness is almost more scandalous than your screaming. 

Once the two of you made it toward the back of the room, Effie appeared on your other side, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as she whispered words of encouragement. 

If you hadn’t been on the verge of a breakdown, you would’ve acknowledged her kindness. Effie prioritized propriety, and emerging from the crowd to comfort a hysterical woman was the opposite of that. 

You gagged, “I’m going to throw up.” 

To Effie’s credit, she didn’t flee. Her brows furrowed in concern, and she began ushering you to the nearest bathroom. 

Without loosening his grip on your arm, Haymitch used his free hand to reach for a bucket of champagne on a nearby table, shooting its patrons a forced smile before dumping its contents onto the floor and handing you the bucket.

Just in time. Though your hands were shaking, you were grateful to have something physical to ground you. Unable to shove down the nausea anymore, you raised the ice bucket closer to your face. 

In normal circumstances, you would’ve scolded Haymitch for making a pointless mess for an Avox to clean. Now, you’re too occupied with making sure you don’t throw up on the carpet.

Since the footage had shifted to a different tribute, the attention had been diverted from you. But even if it hadn’t, sickness was more normal than weeping. Viewing parties were no stranger to vomiting caused by alcohol or gluttony. 

Once you made it to the bathroom, you heaved the contents of your stomach into the toilet, shoulders shaking as you gripped the porcelain. You felt fingers lightly brushing your scalp as they gathered up your hair and held it away from your face. You wanted to think it was Effie, but the hands were calloused and free of acrylic extensions. 

The situation felt horribly reminiscent of others from years past. 

“When will you admit that you have a problem?” You wonder aloud as you kneel beside Haymitch, who is currently emptying his stomach in Caesar Flickerman’s guest bathroom. 

Over the last week, Haymitch’s alcohol intake had increased drastically, which was especially alarming when you considered the large number that was his typical average.

You and Effie chalked it up to Haymitch’s characteristic lack of self-preservation, and he didn’t correct you. In truth, his nightmares had gotten worse, but there was no way he was going to tell you that—especially when those dreams featured a certain District 3 victor during the 59th Games.

“Haymitch, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Effie’s losing her mind.” You resist the urge to smack him on the back of the head. 

Haymitch grunts in response, and you pause your berating to brush his hair out of his face with your fingers and lift it out of the way. He tries to shrug you off, and you chide him. “Don’t be difficult, Abernathy, you know I’ve seen you look worse. This is only partly emasculation–I’m mostly doing Effie a favor.” 

If Haymitch hadn’t been throwing up his dinner of bourbon and scotch, he might’ve let out a grudging laugh. 

When your hand begins to rub his back soothingly, he told himself that he was too drunk to tell you off, even though most of the alcohol in his body had been ejected in the last five minutes.

A few seconds later, he has a moment of respite. After taking a small sip from the bottle of water you offer him, he rasps, “Don’t you have someone else to bother, Kid?”

“Effie booked me for the night to keep you from choking on your vomit.” Despite your flippant tone, you hold his hair back with surprising gentleness. “You know she can’t handle this kind of stuff.” 

Effie really couldn’t handle that kind of stuff, Haymitch scowled. He willed her to come back soon so he could take his hands out of your hair and distance himself again as quickly as possible. 

As usual, Effie didn’t adhere to his will. Her whereabouts remained unknown, and he redirected his attention to you as you stopped retching and began to hyperventilate.

“It’s alright, Kid. Breathe.” Haymitch’s voice broke through your panic, his tone soft. He gingerly turned you to face him, his hands resting on your shoulders in an attempt to ground you. 

You struggled to follow his instructions, inhaling a sharp breath through your nose and gasping an exhale through your mouth. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, you can do it.” He dismissed the use of the nickname as a byproduct of the alcohol again. 

While he slowed his breathing for you, you closed your eyes, trying to match his pattern of a four second inhale followed by a four second exhale. 

“It’s called box breathing,” Haymitch overhears you whisper softly to the fourteen-year-old girl who is the 62nd Hunger Games’s female District 12 tribute. 

Though there were no direct rules against mentors speaking to tributes from different districts, the nature of your interaction pushed against unspoken rules. 

If Snow’s in a bad enough mood, it’s something you can be punished for. Haymitch knows that would be his fault. 

A week earlier, you had lost it on his front porch, demanding to know why he never even tried to give his tributes some advice and railing that he never even offered them basic empathy. 

You even accused him of being just as heartless toward the weak as the rest of Panem. 

Haymitch hadn’t been able to come up with a response, so he remained silent and kept his face as unreadable and emotionless as ever. That night he dreamt of Wellie and the Doves. 

Once the two of you are back in the Capitol, though, Haymitch regrets not telling you off. Though your efforts to help the child are subtle, Haymitch knows that Snow will see the small act of unity as a threat. 

Haymitch tells all of his tributes to steer clear of you after that.

By the time you had your breathing under control, you were too tired to think about Kross or Tesla, much less sit up straight. You slump back against his shoulder, too drained to move. Surprisingly, he doesn’t push you off. 

The two of you sat on the tile floor, the room silent aside from your uneven breathing. Despite himself, Haymitch didn’t want to leave until you felt well enough to curse him out and push him away yourself. 

After what felt like years, Effie reappeared with a glass of water, and once you had taken a small sip, you finally spoke. “Thanks, Effie. Should’ve had more bourbon this morning.” 

You didn’t say anything after that, not even about what had happened after the 65th Reaping. 

| Yes I am, and I always will

  Be some protector

Though Haymitch’s actions at the 69th Games were an indisputable contradiction to the words he used to get you out of his life, neither of you addressed it afterwards, nor did you attempt to revive your friendship.

Haymitch would die before he let Snow use you to hurt him, even as a platonic bond. 

Meanwhile, your motivation for maintaining your distance stemmed more from self-preservation. Your pride prevented you from showing up on his doorstep again, chalking up his actions at the viewing party as an anomaly. 

You reasoned that although Haymitch Abernathy had a heart, he only acted on it every decade or so, and he had just reached his quota. 

The next six games passed with the two of you as acquaintances. When you happened to make eye contact with him at parties, you simply nodded in acknowledgement and kept walking. 

You learned how to barricade your heart during the games. You continued to buy your own bottles of bourbon after rough clients, and Effie replaced you as the person trying to reign in Haymitch’s drinking habits. She proved to be far less successful than you were. 

Haymitch avoided watching you leave parties with horrid Capitol elites, he never acted on the “intrusive” thoughts that dared him to show up at your doorstep, and he never attempted to make contact.  

He didn’t seek you out after the failed rebellion of Johanna’s games, though he secretly wondered what your reaction might’ve been like behind closed doors. 

Likewise, you didn’t knock on his door after Katniss and Peeta left the arena together, despite the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from studying Haymitch’s expression at the viewing parties. You watched him charm partygoers and round up sponsors, which Mags confirmed was something he’d never done before. 

The relief on his face when the Gamemakers called off the games after the Nightlock stunt had something lightening in your chest, grateful despite yourself that something had finally gone right for Haymitch Abernathy. 

Still, you wondered to yourself if things might have turned out differently if he had fought this hard for his tributes in the years past. You couldn’t work up the courage to ask him yourself.

You don’t bridge the gap, and neither does he. 

Until the third Quarter Quell. 

After Snow announces his vision with a sneer, Haymitch hurls his full glass of rum at the television. True terror pierces his heart at the thought of returning to the arena. Although his rage boils over as his mind goes to Peeta and Katniss, the first face he pictures is yours. 

Peeta and Katniss make respective visits, each begging him to save the other, and he comes to a realization that completely knocks the wind out of him. 

If Wiress’ name is drawn, you’ll volunteer in her place, just as you’d replaced a child in your first games. Beetee will certainly try to stop you, but Haymitch knows it would be futile. 

Haymitch’s plan to volunteer in Peeta’s place won’t work in your situation either. Wiress’ mind is too fractured for her to volunteer in your place. Even if it weren’t, Haymitch knows you would never allow her to go back into an arena.

He runs his hands over his face roughly, dread washing over him when he realizes that there’s no solution. 

Since you and Wiress are the only remaining female victors from District 3, there are no other options. 

Haymitch fumbles in the dark for a full glass of beer. You’re doomed, and he knows it. 

After reflecting on Peeta and Katniss, Haymitch figures out what he has to do. When Peeta’s name is called, Haymitch will volunteer in his place and do everything he can to protect Katniss. And you.

 This is his only solution, so he doesn’t stop to consider what would happen if Effie reads off his name first. 

Meanwhile, when you hear the news, you find yourself praying that Haymitch doesn’t end up in the arena. If the involuntary alcohol detox doesn’t kill him, you’re sure Snow’s mutts will rip out his throat. 

You don’t want to guess who might win the Third Quarter Quell, but something in your gut tells you it won’t be Haymitch.

You hardly stop to think about yourself; sending Wiress into the arena isn’t an option. You crack open a bottle of bourbon and try to distract yourself from the anxiety rising within you. 

You manage to suppress the urge to weep until your mind goes to the rest of your friends, especially Beetee and the victors of District 4. You know that Finnick’s odds are high, but the knowledge that either Mags or Annie will be his partner in the arena has you sobbing till you can’t breathe. 

You jump at the sound of your telephone ringing—no one uses that number anymore. If anyone needs to send you a message, they’ll use their communicuff. 

You grasp the neck of the receiver and twist the cord around your finger. “Hello?” Despite your best efforts, your voice sounds watery. You breathe in shakily before asking quietly, “Hello? Who’s there?” 

You hear a sharp inhale, before the other end of the line clicks. Is this some kind of sick prank? Was it Snow? 

Back in District Twelve, Haymitch slams the telephone receiver back onto its base and tears a trembling hand through his hair. 

He has no idea what had possessed him to call you, but hearing the fear in your voice only worsens the sharp pain in his chest. 

On the day of the Reaping, Haymitch stands stone-faced between Effie and Peeta. While tears fall down Katniss’ face when Effie reads off her name, Haymitch braces himself for Peeta’s name to be called. 

Effie steps lightly toward the glass bowl in her gigantic heels and monarch butterfly dress, and Haymitch wonders frustratedly if she could possibly go any slower. 

When she unfolds the paper, Effie’s eyes flutter with shock. Anyone who didn’t know her well would’ve missed it, but Haymitch notices. That can’t be good. 

There is a nearly imperceptible tremor in her voice as she breathes, “Haymitch Abernathy.”

No. Haymitch’s jaw clenches. His name being called hadn’t been an option—Peeta couldn’t be the one going back into the arena. 

Katniss’ head whips toward them. Do something, her eyes plead. 

Peeta’s chin tilts upward, avoiding Haymitch’s pointed gaze and Katniss’ wide eyes. “I volunteer as tribute.” 

Katniss fails to mask her face when her heart drops. 

Haymitch grabs the seventeen year old boy’s arm and attempts to pull him back. “I can’t let you do that.” 

“You can’t stop me.”

Haymitch sees your face in his mind. To him, this is about so much more than just the star-crossed lovers of District 12. “Peeta—“

Peeta’s brows draw together as he wrenches his arm out of Haymitch’s grip. “You can’t stop me.” 

The words hit like a death sentence. 

Haymitch feels more helpless than he’s felt since the 2nd Quarter Quell. Desperately, he hopes there will be some kind of miracle in District 3.

Once they’re on the train, Haymitch storms around like a madman. After the tablet in his hands is unable to pull up the District 3 Reaping, he hurls it across the train car. “Effie, turn on the TV!”

Peeta and Katniss snap out of their mournful stupor, exchanging a look at Haymitch’s hyper-irritability. This seems like more than just a side effect of being weaned from alcoholism. 

Peeta wonders briefly if he’s the cause, but when Effie follows Haymitch’s instructions with pitying eyes, he senses there’s something bigger he’s missing. 

Effie fast-forwards through a highlight reel of the Reaping broadcast, and Haymitch snaps at her when she passes District 3. 

Instead of chastising him, Effie rewinds the clip and rests her hands in her lap. She twists the ring on her pointer finger distractedly, her posture uncharacteristically tense. 

Effie can usually poker-face her way through a crisis, but not this time. 

As he sits on the edge of the couch, Haymitch grips a glass half-full of brandy, his knuckles turning white. 

Peeta wonders where he got it, but Katniss shrugs it off. They’d spent weeks attempting to get Haymitch to sober up during training, but the last thing they needed now was to deal with detox symptoms. 

Onscreen, the District 3 escort makes his usual quip about ladies going first, and Haymitch feels a wave of anticipatory nausea. 

It feels like years before a slip of paper is selected and a name is called. “Wiress Wright.” 

Before Wiress can move, your hand is already up. “I volunteer as tribute.”

Wiress moves toward you to protest, but Beetee grabs her arm to keep her from stepping forward. He gives you a grim nod that you return with a forced smile. 

The camera pans to you, and you keep your head raised, staring directly at it with a look of quiet defiance. You don’t shed a single tear, and if Haymitch hadn’t been so sick to his stomach he might’ve felt a twinge of pride. 

He can’t watch after that. He thunders to his feet, chucking his glass at the carpet before stomping off to his quarters. He finds it dissatisfying that the cup shatters so easily. 

Stricken with fear on your behalf, all of the color leaves Effie’s face. She wordlessly turns off the television and lets him go. 

In the distance, a door slams and more crashing follows. Peeta leaps to his feet, starting to follow when Effie stops him. “Peeta, just leave him be.”

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Peeta shrugs off the hand on his shoulder. 

“Peeta.” He freezes at the firmness in Effie’s tone. She refuses to leave any room for an argument. “He’ll wear himself out eventually, but there’s no use in trying to reason with him now.” 

The look in her eyes tells him that she speaks from plenty of experience. 

“What’s special about the District 3 tribute? Why does he care?” Katniss speaks up in a flat tone, but she levels Effie with a piercing gaze. She asks not because she’s worried about Haymitch, but because she knows this unknown variable matters. 

If Haymitch has a conflict of interest, it might be the tipping point for Peeta’s odds of survival. 

“She’s an old friend.” Effie says carefully, not wanting to spill open the can of worms, but unable to fully dismiss it all.

“I didn’t think Haymitch had friends.” The words could’ve been a joke, but coming from Katniss, there isn’t an ounce of humor in them.

Effie sighs, shaking her head disappointedly. “He doesn’t.”

Another crash comes from Haymitch’s room. 

 “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make sure he doesn’t finish destroying his things and start going after my perfumes.” Effie avoids Peeta’s searching gaze, and he and Katniss are left alone. 

| Some protector

That night, after Peeta and Katniss have gone to bed on the Distinct 12 floor of Victors Tower, Haymitch grabs a bottle of bourbon and slips away.  

Against his better judgment, he steps into the sleek elevator and hits the button labeled with the number three. 

He grips the metal railing till his fingers are sore while the elevator makes the nine floor descent. 

He takes a deep breath before hitting the buzzer outside of the District 3 tributes’ apartment. 

Beetee opens the door, unsurprised to see the disheveled blond wearing a horrifically wrinkled shirt with slumped shoulders and dark shadows under his eyes. 

Gruffly, Haymitch says, “I need to see her.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Beetee remembers the months that followed your final return from District 12. You hadn’t been that withdrawn since your first night with a Capitol client, and it killed Beetee when you refused to explain what had happened. 

Beetee may not be able to spare you from the Games, but he resolves to do his best to shield you from this. “I can’t let you do that.” 

For a moment, Haymitch’s liquid courage falters, and his thoughtless audacity is replaced by some semblance of shame. 

As Beetee starts to shut the door, the weight of the bourbon in Haymitch’s left hand reminds him of his original purpose. “I need to see her, Beetee. We don’t have much time, I can’t—“ 

“It’s okay, Bee, I’ll handle it.” Suddenly you’re in the doorway instead, and Beetee leaves the two of you alone with one last frown sent toward Haymitch. 

“What do you want, Abernathy?” Your voice is tired, but not friendly. This is the first time you’ve really looked at him since he held you against his chest in the sponsors’ penthouse bathroom. 

He doesn’t answer for a minute, distracted by his need to see how you’re carrying on. He notices your hair is let down and unkept, while the bags of sleep under your eyes give away the state of your sleep schedule.  Your pupils are rimmed red, and your shoulders slump. You’re already so different from the bold persona he’d seen on TV the day before. 

“Haymitch.” When you say his name, it’s a warning instead of a question. 

Instead of answering, he drops the bottle of bourbon and pulls you into his arms, all in one motion. One arm wraps tightly around your upper back while the other winds around your waist. 

You freeze, and even though he fully expects you to push him away he holds you more tightly. 

You don’t have the energy to fight him, and you let your forehead drop onto his shoulder. Something in his chest tightens as you practically go limp in his arms. 

The hand he rested on your shoulder slides up to cradle the back of your head, and he rests his chin on the top of your head despite his better judgment. 

Later, he plans to blame it on alcoholism. Now, he forgets about future consequences and focuses solely on you.

You sniff pitifully in response and he stiffens in surprise when your arms wrap around him to return the hug. He softens when he feels your tears dampening his shirt. “I’m so scared.” 

The brevity of your confession and the smallness of your voice reminds him of your surroundings. He gently guides you into your apartment and closes the door behind him. 

He doesn’t miss the fact that he left the bourbon behind, but he’s shocked to realize that he truly couldn’t care less right now. 

Once the apartment door is shut, it’s like the floodgates are opened. Your soft crying turns into sobs, and he holds you up, whispering what he hopes are comforting words into your hair. 

Blanching, Haymitch realizes that you really have carved out a soft spot for yourself in his heart, and he has no idea what to do with that knowledge. He doesn’t even know how to comfort people anymore. 

He doesn’t get picked as a shoulder to cry on, and he certainly doesn’t have any recent experience with being on the receiving end of that either. 

The last time he’d cried in front of anyone was when Burdock led him to Lenore Dove’s grave, and that really didn’t count. 

Haymitch’s pulse is racing, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s terrified for you or of you.  

Once your weeping has eased a bit, you pull back, cringing. “Sorry, your shirt is covered in tears and snot.” 

Vulnerability is a death sentence in the Capitol, but aren’t you bound for death anyway? You do your best to shake off that thought. 

He tucks your hair behind your ear, and his heart twinges when he realizes it’s damp with your tears. Gruffly, he remarks, “Just try not to do it again.” 

You can tell that he’s joking with you, in his strange Haymitch way. You shoot him a watery smile. “You think you can go get the bourbon you left in the hallway?” 

He scoffs, “Of course you noticed that.” 

The room settles into a more familiar rhythm after that. Alcohol and banter—that’s something you and Haymitch feel better equipped to handle. 

Once you’ve each had a glass, neither of you acknowledge that you’d spent the last fifteen minutes clinging to one another like it was normal even though you hadn’t hugged once during your fourteen years of complicated acquaintanceship. 

By the time you two finish the bottle, the clock tells you that it’s two in the morning. 

Your styling team will arrive in three hours, and you both know that it would be best if they don’t catch Haymitch here. 

“You should get some rest,” He says gruffly, trying to muster the strength to get up and walk out the door. 

You tilt your head thoughtfully, “I think I only slept through one full night before my first Games.” 

Haymitch’s jaw sets and he fights to keep his fury toward Snow and concern for you from getting all tangled up. “(Y/n), I need you to team up with Katniss and Peeta. We need you to take care of yourself, or you guys won’t have a shot.” 

“You know I’ll protect your kids with my life.” You stare at your empty glass, fighting the urge to disassociate. You intend to remain light, but your words sound more like a surrender.

“No.” That isn’t what he wants. 

Your head shoots up at the forcefulness of his voice, and your eyes meet as you watch him silently. 

 “Not with your life. I—we can’t let Snow have that victory. He watches you with your tributes, and you know he’s seen what you’ve done for the other victors.” 

Even if Snow hadn’t punished you for your small acts of kindness, it was common knowledge that he knew every move that the victors made. 

You hadn’t been dragged off for torturing after coaching Finnick through his first panic attack or helping Cashmere recuperate from a cosmetic surgery, but you should’ve known that Snow would respond eventually. 

Haymitch is floored by a sudden realization. Had your name even been in the bowl at the reaping? Snow might have orchestrated it all, knowing that you would always volunteer for Wiress and making it impossible for her to do the same for you. 

“Haymitch—“ You start to argue, but he cuts you off. 

“He can’t do anything when you’re out here because your clients…like you too much, but once you’re in there? Snow’s gonna do everything he can to get you, (Y/n), because you haven’t let him win. You’re still good.” After saying it out loud, he realizes it’s true. He needs another bottle of something. 

Meanwhile, you’re shaking your head bitterly. Is that really how he sees you? You scoff, “You do realize that I’ve killed a lot of people, right? I also raise two new killers every year.” 

Haymitch is taken aback. Did you really see yourself that way? You, a woman who had been pulled into two Hunger Games but never reaped?

His fingers curl and uncurl from the fists he’s subconsciously made at his sides. Between gritted teeth, he spits out,“That blood is on Snow’s hands, not yours.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “You seriously expect me to think you believe a single thing you’re saying? After who knows how many bottles of that?” You gesture toward the empty bottle dismissively. “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be drinking yourself to death.” 

 Your lack of understanding triggers a sharp defensiveness in Haymitch.

The bourbon no longer warms Haymitch’s system, and the buzz is gone. There’s only numbness in its wake. He wants the ache to stop, and reflexively, meanness slips out. “You’re nagging now? I forgot how much I hated having you around.” 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that for much longer.” You throw back the retort in a flat voice. It’s the morning in Haymitch’s apartment all over again. You’re not even hurt anymore, just tired. You blink, as if to ward off tears, but you realize you haven’t got any left. “You should go before someone else sees you.” 

Haymitch pales, immediately regretful. He reaches out a hand, but you’re already pulling away. “(Y/n)—”

Suddenly, Beetee is there. “You heard her, Haymitch.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”Haymitch doesn’t stop the nickname this time, desperate for reconciliation. 

You’re already walking away. “Goodnight, Abernathy.” 

“(Y/n), I—” Before Haymitch can try again, Beetee ushers him toward the door, disappointment and anger rolling off of the older man in waves. Haymitch turns to look back at you, but you’ve already disappeared into your room. 

Beetee sends Haymitch into the hallway without another word. The apartment door shuts softly behind him. 

Once he’s in the elevator, Haymitch slams his hand against the wall. Back in the District 12 apartment, he cracks open a beer, on the verge of officially ending his semi-sobriety. 

As he watches the sunrise come up through the window, he scowls. Seventy-five long years of the sun rising on a reaping. And this one had been yours. 

Setting the beer down, he recalls a conversation with Plutarch and fatal affairs discussed in code. Haymitch decides that even if you can’t stand to look at him, he’ll do anything to keep you alive. 

A 75th reaping. If they get this right, yours will be the last. 

| Be some protector to ya

[jinusajas]

01/16/25; 08:08pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

notes: no joke, i’ve been having dreams of writing for vi, with @shouyuus as my hype woman 😭 so i might as well make my dreams come true.

warnings: unedited; drunk men being men; potentially ooc since i’ve never written for vi before 🙂‍↕️ vi and reader are both in their early twenties.

also, just in case if my more… intrusive thoughts win…

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

what does a girl need to do to get some peace and quiet at her favorite bar? you think to yourself while tending to your rum and coke, feeling those men’s eyes leering at you.

their hushed whispers about how fine your ass looked beneath that dress and how you needed a man like him to show you a good time made a shudder of disgust run down your spine.

your mood already ruined by the tense atmosphere, you down the rest of your drink in a few gulps, smoothing out the skirt of your dress while slamming a few bills down as payment for your lone drink. ignoring the footsteps that linger from behind you, your hands were outreached toward the door when a harsh whistle pierces through your ear.

“now hold on a minute, babygirl. what’s the rush?” the powerful scent of vodka fills your nostrils, making you nearly gag as the asshole seemed to wear the hard liquor as his signature cologne. “the night’s still young, and i’ve been eyeing your ass since the moment you walked in.”

grimy hands grip at your waist, making you face forward as your gaze burned with hatred for the bastard settled before you. his hair was slicked back with copious amounts of gel, as his chapped lips were cracked wide open in a shit-eating grin. “now, you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?”

red hot fury blossoms across your veins as you lift a hand, ready to slap the drunkard when the sensation of your wrist being tugged backwards makes you gasp in response. your eyes go wide, seeing what had to be the fucker’s lackey restrain you. “let go of me!”

“and why should we, princess?” with you now restrained, he leans forward while inhaling your scent, pressing the tip of his nose against your neck as you could feel the bile rising up against your throat.

“she’s not interested.” a low, feminine voice was heard speaking from just a mere few feet away from you. your eyes land on the owner of that voice, seeing an attractive woman with layered, magenta hair and clear blue eyes looking down at her glass of whiskey. you swallow thickly, wondering what she was planning as you tried to pull your arm away from the man’s grip.

“what’s this? ah, i see. maybe you were needing to get some good dick as well.” he removes himself from you, sauntering toward the strangely alluring woman while pulling up his pants, “would you like to ride this as well?”

the woman finishes her whiskey in one swift gulp-

and the next moment she was on him. before he could even lay a hand on her, she had him pinned beneath the sole of her boots. annoyance was seen in her gaze as she brought down a hard punch against his face, busting his lip open as a painful crunching sound was heard, making you wince at the sight.

“boss!”

finally, the asshole relinquished his hold on you, letting you go to help the fallen man only to receive the same type of treatment from your savior. her combat boots met with his abdomen, making him keel over in pain as she tossed him aside and into one of the tables, making him crash unceremoniously into it.

“goddamnit vi! you just wrecked another table!” the bartender scolds the pink haired woman (vi, her name was vi), yet she ignored him. “just put it on my tab, jake!”

ignoring the men and the bartender, vi steps closer to you, giving you a better view of her face. her layered hair fell across her face, and you saw that it had subtle hues of pink from beneath the lighting. full lips were tilted up in a smile, and you felt warmth against your skin upon realizing that she had freckles dotted across her cheeks along with a tattoo that had vi settled just below her eyelid, “you alright sweetie?”

for some reason, when she called you sweetie, it didn’t sound condescending, but rather filled with concern as she knew just how uncomfortable it was for women to be in such a position. after taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you manage to give her smile and nod, “yes, but it was all thanks to you, really.”

vi’s eyes widen momentarily before pressing herself against you, running a hand down the expanse of your legs, “what’s your name?” your breathing hitches at the sensation of her hand traveling down your thighs, yet you manage to tell her the syllables that make up your name.

she repeats it, (as if tasting it on her tongue), before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “would you like to come home with me?”

and who were you to deny such a delectable request?

{ … }

the ride back to vi’s apartment was a blur, yet you could feel the tension. she expertly weaves through the road driving her stick-shift car (looking hot as hell each time she changed gears) with you clinging to her throughout it all.

you were barely aware of how she quickly parked her car in the lot, with you tossing open the door while allowing vi to interlock her fingertips with yours. they felt calloused against yours, and you briefly wondered if she was a mechanic or engineer of some sort, your mind painting you fantasies of vi working beneath a car with grease staining at the palm of her hands.

the sound of a door unlocking breaks you out of your reveries, with vi practically pulling you inside of her apartment before slamming the door shut. she pins you against her now locked door, hands pushing up the skirt of your dress as her eyes darkened at the sight. “you have now idea how pissed i was when those assholes dared to touch you.”

she presses herself against your front, easily picking you up by the back of your thighs before hoisting you up against her. she captures your lips in a searing kiss, forcing your legs to wrap around her waist. you moan against her lips, allowing her tongue to delve inside of your awaiting mouth. you could taste the lingering whiskey along with something slightly sweeter (was it cherries?) against vi’s lips, making you crave her even more.

while vi takes you to what you assumed was her bedroom, you remained tight in a lip lock with her, letting out a soft gasp when you felt your back meet the plushness of her mattress. pulling away from the kiss first, vi looks down at you, tracing at your lips made swollen by her kisses as she smirks in response. a wave of heat was felt shooting throughout your veins as a familiar ache was settled between your legs. you swallow thickly while clamping your knees together in hopes of assuaging the ache-

and your movements did not go unnoticed by vi.

“do you want it, princess?” her once true blue eyes were eclipsed by darkness, evidence of her pure desire for you when you felt her hands slowly gripping at the straps of your dress. with a hum of her name, you slowly wrap your arms around her neck, “of course i want it… i want you, vi.”

that was all the urging vi needed to continue, with her hands swiftly removing your dress as she left you in your undergarments. admiring the pretty lace that covers your breasts and keeps your center hidden, she traces along the fabric in a reverent manner before moving her hand toward your back, “as much as i enjoy seeing you in such pretty lace, these need to come off.”

expert hands remove your bra in one swift motion, making you gasp as vi tosses it to the side. when you were only left in your panties, you felt your throat turn dry as vi crawls down your form, settling herself between your legs as she grips at the underside of your panties with her teeth, sliding it off of your body in a far too sinful manner while allowing the flimsy fabric to hang precariously on your ankle.

with you utterly bare for the powerful woman settled above you, vi admires the sight of your aching cunt for a few moments, dipping a slender finger inside of you as she collects at your honeyed arousal. “you smell so sweet for me, princess. you won’t mind if i have a little taste, right?”

you shake your head, practically begging for her lips on your slick heat as your hands automatically delve themselves into her hair. she presses her full lips against your cunt, pumping a finger in and out of your heat while using her tongue to fully taste you. despite only meeting her a mere few hours ago, she played your body like an instrument, drawing out breathy moans and sighs with each lingering touch. and when you felt her gently pinch at your swollen clit-

you let out a broken sob, back arched against the bed as you spilled yourself into vi’s awaiting mouth. she swallows everything you had to offer with a shudder, letting out a string of curses in the process, “you taste so fucking good, princess.”

with your mind in a pleasured daze, you felt the pinpricks of pleasure still coursing through you even when vi removes herself from between your legs. vi places a hand on your knee, keeping your legs spread open for her as she rummages through her drawer for something.

“hang tight for me, princess.” vi quickly sheds her tank top and shorts while tossing them to the side, stepping out of her combat boots as they fell haphazardly against the hardwood floor of her bedroom. her back was facing you, and that was when you realized the true extent of her gorgeous physique as you admired the muscles that ran down her back. you didn’t know what she was doing until she faces you once more, making your mouth water at the sight of her beautifully sculpted body with a strap-on settled between her legs.

“i’m going to treat you well tonight.” she adds the needed lubrication down the shaft of her strap-on before rejoining you on the bed. anticipation courses through your veins the moment you felt vi tracing the tip of it against your slick folds while teasing your swollen clit with it, “after tonight, i don’t think i’m letting you go anytime soon, princess.”

and when she fully sheathes her toy cock within your soaked walls, you lost all of your senses while eagerly bouncing yourself on her strap-on, not minding the thought of solely belonging to vi one bit.

end notes: i’ve been referencing a little bit of rain’s own fics in this story, and im sorry if it’s bad 😭 if this is awful and no one likes it, then i promise i won’t write for vi anymore !!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[unluckilyimnot]

Late night – portgas d. ace

In which you're drunk and you fantasize about Ace and it goes wrong (not really).

Note: first (and failed) attempt for my ace ver. of bed chem. I'll do something sweeter than that. again first time writing with him so he might be ooc. I didn't really like it at first, I wrote that at 3am but my bestie told me it was fine so here it is.

Fluff, mention of alcohol, being drunk and wanting to sleep with someone. Don't ask for smut. ~3k.

m.list | rules (read before asking for anything!)

You knew you shouldn’t think that. It was out of place, you’ve drunk one too much and he’s your superior. And yet there you are, another glass full of rum in one hand, the other holding your head from falling and your eyes fix on Ace, a few steps away.

He looks so hot, it’s taking all the space available inside your brain at the moment. His hair’s falling perfectly around his face – it doesn’t matter how many times he pushed it away, it always falls back perfectly. His hat’s resting on his shoulders, his weight is put on his arm as he holds his drink with his other hand – showing off his muscles for anyone to see. You wished you respected yourself enough to stop there. Stop looking. Stop your train of thoughts from going from his arms to his hair, fantasizing about your fingers dragging their way up his arm to his hair, grabbing it just enough for him to sigh. Your cheeks flushed at the thought.

You drank your glass in one go, receiving cheers from your crew. Ace’s eyes fell on you, a cocky, happy smile on his lips and you caught a light of excitement in his eyes that matches with half of the people sitting in the deck at the moment. The sun has disappeared for a moment now, the night is dark, full of stars and the light reflecting on his face is too much for you. It’s overwhelming, imagining him with you : strong arm holding you like you weigh nothing, pulling you on his laps, whispering things so sweet in your ear when you can feel him hard between your legs. It’s intoxicating. You shouldn't think about that, dream about that.

You shake your head, trying to push it away but it seems like it can only get worse when you think of him kissing your neck all the way down your chest. It’s too much, you shut your eyes, taking a small breath in before getting up.

“They're gonna be sick,” someone laughed, you can’t picture who, and honestly – you’d rather be sick to death right now.

You ran to the other side of the ship, far from the small party, from all the alcohol. Far away from Ace. Holding the fence with both hands, you take a deep breath. The salty air cleans your mind a little before an awful wave of shame hits your face. You bury your head in your arms before letting out a loud groan – they think you're sick anyway, so it doesn’t matter. If they even hear you. Ace is still on your mind, half naked, touching you, grabbing onto your skin harshly as he whispers sweet words to your ears and you sincerely think of jumping and drowning in the sea. Until you hear his voice.

“You’re alright there ?”

At first, you’re sure you’ve imagined it ; he’s everywhere, you can feel him on your skin when he’s not even next to you. Until he grabs your arm at your lack of response. You met his eyes lace with concern, his smile smaller and the fun disappeared in the background. You gulp hardly, almost choking on air. His hand is so hot on your cold skin, it does the opposite of grounding you, now thinking about his hot skin all over yours.

“Yes,” you choked out, pulling your arm away.

You stumble away from him, still holding onto the fence. You can barely stand, he can tell – anyone could. You’ve probably drunk your weight in alcohol tonight, you went too far. You felt hot, too hot. Your vision was betraying you and you failed to dodge his hand as it landed closer to your wrist.

“You don’t seem fine to me,” he chuckles, trying to not go too far when you want to keep your distances so bad ; but he doesn’t want you to get hurt. “I’ll take you back to your bunk, come on.”

Why does he have to care so much ? Why couldn't it be someone else. Anyone ! Thinking that he was the first one to make a move and make sure you were ok made your heart ache. He was so sweet without meaning to, or maybe he does but it never really seemed like it. He jokes around too much, flirts too much. Him doing both so well makes your heart beat faster, only for him. It scares you, so much, because as much as you want him, there's no universe he wants you back. Tears picked up at the corner of your eyes.

“Please, Ace, leave me alone,” you begged, looking around, anywhere, so your tears will go away and you won’t meet his eyes. “You're the last person I need right now.”

You speak quickly, not thinking twice and certainly missing the hurt written on his face. Your head hurts, it's spinning like crazy. Yeah, you could've gotten some help, but thinking about him in your bed was the main problem of the night. Thinking about how good you'll be for each another was the problem. You didn't need him close to your room, let alone inside it. Not until you were sober and could make sense of all of that in your head. He clears his throat.

"Don't move then, I'll get Marco," he says quickly as well, walking away without a second glance or at least you think so.

You can't miss the hurt in his voice, the faux smile he puts on when he's hurt and you hate it. But you know you can't fix that right now, right ? You can't think straight and you're scared you're gonna say something dumb. Your feet can barely hold you up and you can tell your knees are getting weak – but you push it away and follow him.

"Wait, Ace !" you yell out his name, looking for him. You're getting closer to the stairs and, as much as he doesn't want it, he's quickly back by your side before you can reach it. You grip his open shirt, fingers brushing on his chest.

"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry, I'm–" you struggle to find your words, you don't even know what you're trying to say.

What you know is that you melt under his hot and soft touches. His hands are holding your arms carefully to not hurt you, but it’s still firm so you don’t have to hold your weight alone – you're not complaining anymore. His hands on you are meticulous, not going too far. It costs him at the moment and you're still mumbling nonsense. Your emotions are a mess, the last thing you want is to hurt him, you need to do something about it and it almost made you forget the heat in your core to have him close.

"It's fine," he tries his best to not be cold but he can’t even look at your face. You're flustered and desperately looking for his eyes this time. Your hand ends up on his chest, catching the rhythm of his heart. You want to lean in, hold him close, tell him how sorry you are.

"You're all over my mind, it's intoxicating," you're shaking your head. "It's hard having you around, I'm sorry, but I love you please I never meant to hurt you." You can feel his heart beating faster under your hand and you can tell his cheeks turned pink.

Ace covered his face with one hand, rubbing it before hiding his lips as his eyes fell on you. “You’ll be the death of me…”

You can’t figure what he just muttered but you can’t find the need to care – he’s looking at you, it’s enough. “I’m sorry, Ace.”

“I know, I know !” he doesn’t know what to do with his own body after that, or what he can do at all. “Can I help you then ? Or are you gonna argue agai– Hey !”

Before he could finish his sentence, your legs gave up on you and your vision went dark. He’s left there, with your body in his arms as you passed out – your head gently laying on his chest now. He groans, cursing under his breath before holding you close and coming down the stairs. You’re not really heavy for him, that’s not the problem.

The problem is that he can’t get your words out of his head. You saying ‘I love you’, being so desperate for him to look at you, to say you were sorry… And the hell did you mean he’s all over your mind ?! There’s a lot of things on his mind at the moment, too many for him to keep a track of and the alcohol surely doesn’t help.

Your weight is comfortable in his arms, when he stops beside your bunk he has a hard time letting you go. You seem so vulnerable, he lays you down eventually, staring at you for a second. There’s a small frown knitted on your face, he has to ease it down with his fingers  before sitting on the floor, next to you.

“The hell you meant I’m all over your mind…” he’s not getting over it. He doesn’t know what to do with it but it for sure works him up.

You were all over his mind all night, and it’s not the first time, so knowing you might feel the same felt – strange. The fact that you rejected him probably because of that left a bad taste on his tongue. He wants to talk about it tomorrow, but will you even remember ? He sighs as he thinks about it. It can’t be helped at the moment.

The next morning, you woke up with the worst headache you’ve ever had but also with a huge glass of water next to your bunk and a small note. 

Drink a lot today. Can we talk ?’

You don’t need a sign to know who it is, his bad handwriting says it all. You flush when you read it. You don’t remember well what happened yesterday, but you’re sure you must have said some bad shit to get a note from Ace.

You lay back on your bed, groaning at your blood pulsing in your temple like crazy, but it’s better than to get up and face him for now. What even happened after you left the deck ? You remember Ace coming to check on you, crying a little and running – or at least try to – after him. The rest of the night is blurry, you can’t figure what you did or say after crashing into his arms, and the only reason you’re sure you crashed into him is because you can still feel his warmth around you. It’s bitter sweet, you love it and hate it at the same time. You don’t want to crave it like you do.

You’re so lost in your mind, you missed the knock on your door. Twice. It makes you jump when the door opens out of nowhere in a loud creak and Ace’s face comes out of it. He looks at you with big eyes at first, seemingly lost and you can feel your cheeks turn hot. Pulling the cover closer to your chest, you winced at the pain in your head.

“Headache ?” he asks softly, a small grin on his lips as he walks in. He has another glass of water in hand but he keeps it for himself when he sees the first one barely touch. “Drink,up, it’s gonna help."

You nod and drink it all straight. You can feel the coldness running down your body and sigh in relief afterward. It doesn’t help in a second, but you already feel better. He gave you the second after you gave it a long stare. It’s awkward, you don’t know what to say, neither does he. After a moment, the silence is so thick you don’t know how to break it. So you clear your throat. 

“I’m sorry for last night,” you start carefully. “I don’t really remember what happened, or what I said but I was mean, wasn’t I ? I didn’t mean to.”

“You said that last night already, don’t worry,” It took him a second to answer, his eyes lost on the floor next to your bunk. “It’s forgotten already. You were drunk.”

There’s another silence. You sit up and let your legs hang over the edge, trying to catch his eyes since he doesn’t say anything ; he seems lost in his mind, and it’s never a good sign. Your fingers brush his arm gently, trying to bring him back with you. “Are you alright ?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool but his eyes say something else. “You said you didn’t mean it… You think it works for everything you said ?” there’s a subtle hope as he stares back at you making you gulp hard.

“I don’t know, what did I say ?” you tried to joke, lightening the mood but you’re scared. What if you went too far and told him you wanted him that way ? What a mess it would be, but you guessed he would’ve been more cocky about it.

Your fingers are now brushing his hot skin without failing, grounding him in with you instead of drowning in overthinking. You wait for him to talk, not forcing him to, but you’re ready to wait for him. “You said you never wanted to hurt me because you loved me? You meant it ?”

Your heart stopped. Of course you said something like this and you want to hit your head on the wall for it, but you can’t back down now. “Yeah, I care for you Ace. You’re important to me."

“Enough for you to love me ? You also said I was all over your mind all night, that’s why it was hard to have me around.”

You flushed at his words, bringing your hand back to your chest as if he just stripped you off all your clothes. Why did drunk you speak so much, huh ? They were talkative for sure and you hated it. Your eyes fell on the floor and it was your time to avoid his gaze. You couldn’t say you didn’t mean it like that, you don’t want to see him hurt even if it breaks your heart.

“Hum, enough to love you,” you whisper, scared it’s gonna ruin everything. Closing your eyes hard, you wait for him to answer but nothing comes. Instead, he can feel his head leaning against yours. His forehead touches yours and you open your eyes, his are shut. A sigh of relief leaves his lips.

“You were on my mind too, you know,” he started softly, his voice low. “I was scared you’d never want to talk to me again if you knew.”

You can’t help the chuckle that left your lips, catching him off guard. He straightened his back quickly, leaving his hands on his lips – a suspicious look on his face. “What was that ?”

“You have no idea what I think of you, so don’t worry. It can’t be worse.”

With that, he laughed and the heavy, awkward mood lifted up by itself. And, without really putting words onto it, you knew how the other felt. It was still new, too soon to start something but you could laugh with each other openly. Ace could put your hair behind your ear without feeling like a creep and you could stay close to him without going crazy.

It’s simple, it feels like you’re already together for a lot. Yet, there’s still a lot on Ace’s mind. He took his time, until he knew he could do it without regretting it. Waiting for you to fall asleep in his arms, for you to hit his arm playfully when he goes too far with a joke without being upset, for you to open up to him – only then did he say it.

It was dark and rather cold outside, but he still found you sitting by yourself on the deck, looking at the stars. He can’t really get cold but he knows you do for sure, so he’s surprised to find you without a thick shirt on.

“Keeping the stars all for yourself ?” he chuckles as he sits beside you, making you giggle.

“I wouldn’t dare, they’re for everyone,” you answer. It sounded more deep than you meant to, but it’s fine. He has people to share them with too. For a while, neither of you talked but it’s comfortable now. He doesn’t have to play a role with you, neither do you and things got a lot easier after you two accepted that.

“You’re not cold ?” he asks finally, worried because of the shivers on your arms.

“Yes, I am.” It was blunt, unapologetic and it made him laugh out loud. Oh, how he loves you.

“Come here,” he grins as he gestures to you to come closer.

He doesn’t have to say it first. You sit up immediately and move between his legs, now resting in the hot embrace you learned to know. You let out a satisfied sigh as you get comfortable in his arms. “I thought you'd never say it.”

You made him laugh again, it happens more now you noted. You like it. His head finds the crook of your neck and he rested his nose there, inhaling your scent before sighing as well. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. You call out his name softly, but he doesn’t answer. He’s feeling good, safe – at home.

“I love you too.” His voice is low, you barely heard him but your heart would never miss this. It felt like the right moment : under the stars, you safe in his arms as he warms you up during a cold night. He wants this to last forever.

More important, he never actually told you he loved you when you already did and he felt bad for it. He doesn't know why he hesitated for so long when every cell in his body was craving for your soft touches and words, but now it was done and he never felt happier.

“I didn’t even say it…” you argued but your cheeks were flush red.

“You did,” he confirms. “A while ago. I didn’t forget, never.”

Before he can make sense of it, you're turning around and grabbing his face with both hands before your lips rested on his for a second. It’s a small peck but it feels like you’ve been waiting for this all your life. He’s taken by surprise but quick to bring you back for another kiss, longer but gentle, careful. His hands don’t leave your waist, his thumbs drawing patterns on your cold skin before breaking the kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper anyway, not waiting for anything in return.

He nudges his nose with yours, a big smile on his lips as he hears your laugh at the cute gesture. He couldn’t ask for more and he wouldn't dare. He was lucky enough to be loved so gently.

Let me know if you liked it ! ♡

[quantum1mmortality]

Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Liu Kang showing up to Fem!Readers house exactly how they showed up to Johnny Cages mansion, except they aren't there to recruit her just yet......*Wink wink wink*

Oh my... What to write... What to write...

Tw/cw: AFAB reader, threesome, Mostly just Liu Kang watching as you get your brains fucked out, Liu Kang sort of stalking you but it's okay he's hot, kuai being a good boy, praise, piv, taking it up the ass for the homies, cursing, reader has a brain and doesn't stand for bullshit, ooc Liu Kang it's only for the plot I won't write him like this ever again I swear

Not proofread

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

Getting home from a long day of work always ended like this: watching a movie and drinking an entire bottle of rum.

Or at least that's how it should end, but not tonight. As soon as you opened up your new bottle of rumchata, you heard a knock at the door. 11 at night, who the hell is at your door?

You haphazardly discarded your glass on the counter as you walk to the door, only now realizing you'd be opening it in your pajamas. Oh well, that'll be a future problem.

When you do open the door, there stands three men you've never seen before. All three much taller than you, intimidating to say the least.

You must've looked scared with how soft spoken the man in the middle was. "Good evening, (Y/n). I am Liu Kang, protector of earthrealm. May we come in?"

First of all, protector of earthrealm??? Second of all, who??? All these thoughts we're racing in your head, none of them having any clear explanation.

"Uhm,, sure? Do you guys want any rumchata or anything? I have some if you do-"

"That will not be necessary, Miss (Y/n), but thank you for the offer." The dude with the glowing eyes that seemed to be called Liu Kang walked in first, followed by a man dressed in blue, and another dressed in orange. They stood next to each other, Liu Kang being in the middle while the other two were off to either side of him.

"This is Bi Han, he is grandmaster of the Lin Kuei," Liu Kang gestures to his right, pointing to the man in blue. "This, is Kuai Liang, Bi Hans younger brother. They are both highly skilled ninjas, also protectors of earthrealm as well."

"Ok.. may I ask why this is important?" Did this bitch really interrupt your very needed self care to tell you about some ninjas? No respect. You sigh as you take your glass, filling it to the top with rumchata.

"I'd like to recruit you, (Y/n). Although you are not fit to be a warrior, you are more than fit to be a consort."

You spit out your drink. "You came here to ask me to be a wife for these two? Yeah, no. Not gonna happen. I don't even know them."

Liu Kang seems surprised by your answer, so do Kuai Liang and Bi Han. The brothers share glances while they wait for Liu Kang to answer.

"I've been watching you for a while now, (Y/n). I've seen every relationship you've had crumble. I can promise you, my men will treat you better than you can imagine."

"First of all, that's creepy as fuck. You're watching me?? You seriously think that's gonna make me want to get into a relationship you set up? You're out of your mind. Second of all, I'm not looking for relationships right now. No, they aren't working out. So what? Flings are all I need."

You could see the two men get a bit embarrassed over the fact that Liu Kang willingly admitted to stalking you. Bi Han put his head down while Kuai Liang hid his face out of disappointment.

"And yet you're still unsatisfied, romantically and sexually. From my observations, no man you've been with has ever been able to satisfy you, but I've watched you. I know what you like. I'm sure with a few pointers, Bi Han and Kuai Liang can satisfy you like no other man has."

Jaw. Dropped. This bitch did not just call you out like that, nuh uh.

"Oh yeah? Well if you know what I like than why don't you fuck me yourself, you coward." Liu Kang found you incredibly amusing. He thought you were a perfect match for Bi Han and Kuai, which is mainly why he wanted you to be with them so bad.

"As much as I'd love to, you are for them. Bi Han and Kuai work up quite the appetite throughout their work, they need something to distress with. I'm sure you can be a good girl and handle it for them, yes?"

There it was. The only thing that got you weak, and he knew it. Liu Kang smirked as he watched you blush slightly at his praise, trying to hide it from him. He took small steps towards you, taking note that you weren't backing away. Maybe you did want this, you just didn't know it yet. He'll make sure you'll submit by the end of the night.

"Like I said (Y/n), I know what gets you going. I know what you like, and I know every thought going through your head as we speak. I know you want this. Please, let us give it to you. I promise you won't regret it."

You stood still for a minute darting your eyes around the room as you thought. The three men waited patiently for your answer. You looked at Liu Kang, then back to Kuai and Bi Han. They were very attractive men... They probably could satisfy you easily with how well defined they were, could it really hurt if you had just a night with them?

You gave a small nod to Liu Kang and a smile rose on his face. With a snap of his fingers, Kuai grabbed you gently from behind as Bi Han grabbed you from in front of you.

"Be careful now, she's only human. She can only take so much before she can breaks, I'm sure you two can do that on your own time, but for now, focus on her." Liu Kang opted to just watch you instead of joining in, pulling up a chair, he sits down and watches as the scene before him unfolds.

Kuai Liang began to slowly undress you as Bi Han trailed small kisses down your body. Kuai placed your thighs on either side of his, your back pressed to his chest as he spread your thighs for Bi Han.

"Don't be shy Bi Han, I know you want to. She's been such a good girl for us, treat her like one." Liu Kang smiles as Bi Han places his mouth to your clothed pussy, relishing in how wet your panties are. He tears the fabric off of you as he laps at your aching heat.

His tongue was uncoordinated, licking whatever surface it came into contact with. Liu Kang knew this, so he chirped in again. "There's a small part that you need to focus on, it's covered by a hood. Find it. Focus all of your attention on that."

Bi Han felt around with his tongue for a few seconds before hitting a spot that made you scream louder than before. He took Liu Kangs advice and focused every he had on it, sucking and licking your clit like his life depended on it.

"Kuai, she loves being praised. Tell her how good she's doing for us. Let your hands wander too, she can handle it." With that, Kuai began to sing you soft praises as his hands went to squeeze your thighs, waist, and breasts. He found you squirm slightly when his warm hands would play with your breasts, so he started rolling your soft nipples between his fingers, pinching them slightly.

Your back arched as Bi Han focused more, causing his tongue to become colder as he began to plunge it in and out of your sopping whole. Kuai continued his movements as he nipped at your neck. "Too much- it's too much-"

"You're taking us so well, I can't wait to have you begging for more on our cocks. You'll do good for us then too, right? God I don't ever want this to end." Kuai said as he pinched your nipples slightly harder. Your nails dug into his thighs as you practically rode Bi Hans face, coming on his tongue harsher than you ever have.

Your whimpering did nothing to help the two men's raging hard-ons. Kuai Liang couldn't help but slightly moan as you inadvertently grinded on his hard cock, riding out your high as Bi Han licked up every drop of your cum.

His eyes rolled back as he let out a loud groan, about to eat you out for a second time before Liu Kang cleared his throat, catching everyones attention. "You've had enough to eat, Bi Han. It's time you two show her actual pleasure."

Bi Han begrudgingly moves away from your pussy, more than dissatisfied that he can't be more of a munch. Kuai Liang gently placed you on the floor as him and Bi Han undressed themselves. When they did, you were in complete shock as to how big they both were.

Your mind was racing with fear, anxiety, but mostly arousal. "They will fit, (Y/n). I know they're both much bigger than anyone else you've ever been with, just let them do the work, you'll enjoy it."

You looked at Liu Kang, surprised to see him stroking his own cock. Was he.. getting off to this? Was he getting off to you???? How many times has he done this before when he watched you??? All of your thoughts were completely discarded when Kuai Liang left a small nip on your ear before speaking, "this is going to hurt, okay? We'll be slow, but I can't promise you'll be able to walk afterwards."

Both Kuai and Bi Han grabbed your waist, lifting you up with ease as Bi Han aligned his cock with your pussy, Kuai with your ass hole. Kuai was extremely gentle, prepping you slightly before slowly entering.

The three of you let out moans once they were both fully inside you. Kuai and Bi Han placed small kisses across your body as you adjust to their size.

"O-okay.. you can start m-moving.." talking at all was taking more energy than you could produce. Kuai stroked your thighs as Bi Han took your waist. He slowly lifted you up, making you wince as he then put you back down. Both men left out groans you've never heard be produced, ones of full pleasure. Your hands grabbed for anything they could settling just below Bi Hans arms and around his back. He blushed slightly at this, leaning in closer while pushing his cock deeper inside you.

Bi Han continued with his slow pace. He knew you needed more time to adjust, so he was going as slow as possible. Liu Kang on the other hand, didn't like how slow he was going. "Faster. She can take it. Make her scream your names." At this point you were wondering if Liu Kang was doing this just for his own personal pleasure, seeing how out of the corner of your eye, you could see his abdomen painted in his own cum.

Bi Han obliged, leaning into your ear before whispering apologies, preparing you for what's about to come. "Please forgive me, Miss (Y/n). You've been too good to us, I fear. I must apologize for what I am about to do."

With that, Bi Han lifted your waist up till both his and Kuais tips were just inside you, before slamming you down on them. Your head fell back, screaming his name as all you could feel was Bi Hans hands gripping you and both their cocks inside of you.

"Brother- she's going to pass out if you continue-" Kuai tried to reason with his brother, being met with Bi Hans eyes filled with apologies and lust. Truth be told, Bi Han wanted your first time with the both of them filled with love and passion. As much as he wanted to take it slow, he knew how much Liu Kang got off to seeing you like this, and he didn't want him to take you away from him. So he needed to be fast and harsh, he'll make it up to you later, but for now he needs to focus on getting you to cum as quickly as possible.

"Let her pass out, she needs to learn who she belongs to."

"She doesn't belong to us, Lord Liu Kang- she isn't a slave for our pleasure- She's her own person!"

"Brother-" Bi Han looked at Kuai Liang, giving him the, "shut the fuck up or you're going to get us both killed." look. Bi han continued his movements, gritting his teeth as he could feel himself getting close. Kuai attempted to grab onto your hips tighter, hoping it would slow Bi Hans pace, but Liu Kang yelled at him and told Bi Han to go faster.

Bi Han knew it was dangerous for you, your tongue was already lolling out of your mouth as your eyes watered from the pleasure, you could barely make any legible sounds other than moans. Yet, he continued with his harsh pace. Both him and Kuai whinced as they felt your walls flutter around their aching cocks. You soon after let out a loud moan of Bi Hans name before collapsing on the floor.

Kuai gently lifted you off both of their cocks, seeing your aching pussy clenching around nothing made Bi Han cum on the spot. Kuai gave a few strokes of his own cock before cumming in his hand. They both look at your now asleep figure, how it was sprawled out from exhaustion.

Liu Kang sat up front his chair, clapping slowly as he looked at both of the men. "You did good, very good. She enjoyed it a lot. I suggest one of you cleans her while the other gets a change of clothes for her."

Bi Han and Kuai were quick to oblige, standing up and putting their pants back on before getting to work. Kuai Liang grabbed a small wash cloth from your bathroom, dampening it with warm water before coming back out to your sleeping form and gently wiping you down.

He dabbed at your inner thighs and around your cunt, being careful as to not disturb you. He watched as you whinced at the cloth touching your aching hole, smiling slightly at the sight. Bi Han came back with a pair of long sleeve pajamas and soft panties. Both men worked on dressing you, paying no mind to the fact that you were naked and instead focusing on getting you warm.

"Poor doll must be shivering.. Kuai, make sure she's warm enough." Bi Han said softly as he finished buttoning your top. Kuai nodded in response, taking you in his arms before focusing on channeling his energy to you. You warmed up instantly, instinctively cuddling into Kuais chest for more warmth. All the three men smile at your sleeping figure, relishing in how peaceful you look.

Kuai took you to your room, tucking you in as he warmed up the room the best he could. Liu Kang was standing in the doorway as Bi Han was standing inside the room, watching as Kuai made it as comfortable as possible for you.

"She's a good woman. A perfect fit for both of you. She enjoyed tonight, may many more nights like this come for you three." Liu Kang smiled.

"Is she ours officially now?" Bi Han asked in anticipation, looking at Liu Kang with wide eyes.

"Not yet, Bi Han. She must make that decision for herself, yet I highly doubt she'd deny it."

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

A/n: life's been getting so hard guys I'm trying to stanky leg through it but my legs are cramping and I shower too often to stank </3

@tipreace124

I promised I'd tag them when this fic came out

[pirateheroism]

Killian wearing exclusively leather must have sucked because the moment someone hot flirts with him in a sultry manner he wasn't hiding his bodily reaction and I bet that shit hurt in the pants he wore.

[radiaking]

I’ve seen multiple posts/heard multiple ppl say that coop will die in fallout and like….i mean. Yeah probably tbh. and i think that absolutely makes sense. This man lived an entire life before the bombs. he was ready to retire early to a ranch and raise his daughter and spend the rest of his life with his family and just. Fucking chilling tbh. he was good. He was happy. he was ready to just ride that happiness out until he died of old age.

his goals now are to find out what happened to his kid and dismantle the system/corporations that blew up everything he and everyone else had or could have had. and then he’s done.

[drachenxfutter]

//I'm still not over Jaskier being bisexual and I mean that in a good way, like, hell yeah guys it's canon

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

So much planning

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Dazai Osamu x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Fyodor Dostoevsky

Description: Dazai and Fyodor still don't get along. But they have few things in common. Both are genius. Both have twisted morals. And both will turn to dust anyone, who dared to hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Mewing Dazai. Fyodor sings lullaby to reader. Nightmares. Slight religious fanaticism. People threw rocks at Reader, Neuvillette do some damage on Reader. English is my second language.

"SINNER!"

A rock was thrown at you. You tried to dodge, but braces on your legs and rope around your neck, that was tied to a wooden post. The rock hit your shoulder. You can't even scream or beg. A metal construction in your mouth won't let you close your mouth, or make any sort of sound.

"MONSTER!"

Another rock was thrown at you. This one hit your chest.

You were cold. You were freezing. The rugs they forced you to wear couldn't stand against Shezhnaya's wind and snow.

"PAY WITH YOUR BLOOD!"

More and more rocks were thrown at your direction. And you can't do anything to stop them.

Yet, you knew, that they won't let you die now.

Not for the next week.

Each day, you will be transported to a different city. And, starting from dusk to dawn, you were chained in the main square. And people were taking their anger out on you.

You were in Snezhnaya today.

Six more cities left.

Six more days before your execution.

Your life will end before Creator's eyes.

________

You woke up, sobbing. You blinked your tears away and look around. You were home. In your room. Not in Teyvat.

You took a quick glance at the clock.

11:00 pm.

You went to bed 30 minutes ago.

You put your head back on the pillow, trying to fall asleep again. And then you heard it.

"Meow"

You sat up on your bed.

"Meow"

You looked down.

You saw Dazai.

He sat on the floor, before your bed. He put elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands.

Dazai looked... soft. He had a small smile on his face. His eyes sparkled.

And you saw, that he was worried.

Dazai meowed again.

"Meow."

You can't help, but smile. Back then, before you... were transported in... Teyvat, you jokingly called Dazai a cat. Because every time he had a smile or a grin on his face, he looked like he would start meowing.

Dazai remembered that.

That's why, after every time you had a nightmare about Teyvat, Dazai, among other things, would meow, to make you feel better.

Meanwhile, Dazai put his face closer to yours and rub his nose against yours.

"Mrrrrp."

You laughed quietly, raising your arm. You scratch Dazai behind the ear. He started purring.

"You knew, that you shouldn't do the cat act, right?" ask you. Dazai hummed.

"I want to do that. It makes you happy." Dazai pet you on a head. "Want some company?"

You shifted a little, making some space for Dazai. You were sleepy. You lay your head back on your pillow and close your eyes.

Through sleep, you felt, how someone lay down next to you. A familiar scent of almond, rum and cherry filled your nose. Dazai firmly pressed you against his chest. You felt safer. Safe enough, to try to go back to sleep again.

______

Dazai was listening to your breathing. You didn't have a new nightmare. For now. Dazai hopped, that it will stay this way. Still, he won't bet too much on it.

The door to your room was opened again. Dazai didn't turn his head. He knew who it was.

Without saying a word, Dazai pressed you harder against his chest and carefully moved, changing your position with his.

Now, his chest was touching your back. Now, there was an empty spot near you on your bed.

Fyodor carefully lay down next to you, running his fingers through your hair.

They didn't talk.

For now, they were making sure, that you are okay.

"General nightmare. Didn't remember someone in particular." Dazai squeezed your hand. Fyodor slowly played with your hair.

"Panic attack?"

Dazai shook his head.

"No. Just startled."

Fyodor nodded.

"Good. At least, it is something."

Fyodor and Dazai became quiet again.

Dazai broke silence again.

"Others?"

Fyodor hugged you, scooting closer to you.

"Want revenge."

Dazai looked at you with pity.

"Nikolai?" whispered Dazai, listening to you breathing.

Fyodor closed his eyes.

"Still blames himself."

Fyodor and Dazai became silent again.

Despite working together to get to the real world, they still weren't friends. They do play chess together, or have overcomplicated games in their own minds, but, they won't call each other friends.

But, there was one exception.

You.

For you, they were ready to go beyond any possible goals.

All you need to do is ask. And Fyodor and Dazai will make a plan.

But, even their combined intelligence weren't enough to find you, during the month you were missing.

And their emotions went awry, when they saw you on the barn's floor.

Beaten. Tortured. Bloody.

Dazai's eyes shrank, looking somewhere in the distance. The scenes, of what he will do with people, who dared to hurt you, flash before his eyes.

"So. What should we do next?"

Fyodor's gaze was heavy. Similar thought of future massacre flooded his thoughts.

"Let's discuss some ideas. There is so much planning to do."

_________

You can't breathe.

Your heart was beating heavily, your lungs were burning, your legs refused to move.

But you can't stop. You must run.

Or he will get you.

The storm was at its peak.

Rain water greedily licked your skin. Each drop felt like lava.

The river was close. Its waters looked like they were boiling. You jumped on the first wet stone. On the second. On the third.

And your leg slipped.

Immediately, hydro energy curled around your feet, dragging you underwater.

You managed to hold your breath right before waves closed above your head.

*****

It was a torture.

Hydro dragon was playing with you.

Letting you go, letting you breathe in some treasured air. Before dragging you back underwater.

You lost the number of times you almost drowned. You only tried to grab something, that let you stay above water.

Finally, Neuvillette got tired of this game. He dragged you on the riverbank. Right to his feet.

A pair of hands... No... Draconic hands grabbed your shoulders. Sharp claws sank into them, drawing blood. You screamed, when Neuvillette moved his arms to make you stand.

Your vision was blurry. Yet, you manage to make out a pair of draconic eyes and abnormally sharp teeth.

Neuvillette put his face closer to yours.

"Got you, dirty sinner."

Sharp teeth chomped on your left ear.

Your screams and draconic satisfied rumble mixed together.

You were in pain.

Neuvillette spit something on the ground.

You tried not to look at what remains of your ear.

Neuvillette put his face closer to your second ear.

You closed your eyes. You didn't want to look.

You didn't notice a familiar girl, who was running towards you two. She was accompanied by melusines.

Before Neuvillette can tear your second ear off, Furina plunge her sword in his side.

Draconic roar made you stumble back. Falling into the river.

The last thing you saw were Furina and melusines fighting with Neuvillette.

________

You were sobbing.

Your blood was boiling.

You wanted to scream. To run. To hide.

You tried to touch your shoulders and left ear, to call for Furina and melusines. To do anything.

The hand was placed on the top of your head.

And familiar voice start singing.

Fyodor was singing.

"Котя, котенька-коток,

Котя — серенький хвосток!

Приди, котик, ночевать...

И [Т/И] качать,"

You blinked your tears away. You felt, how Dazai embrace became tighter. He started running his fingers up and down your arm.

Fyodor rubbed your tears away.

"Уж я котеньке-коту,

За работу заплачу:

Дам кусочек пирога

И кувшинчик молока."

You didn't want to protest. You didn't care, that you are too old for lullabies. You wanted some comfort. Some stability. Feel safe.

Fyodor put his chin on the top of your head.

"Платок беленький свяжу

И на шейку повяжу;

Шубку новую куплю

И сапожки закажу.¹"

You hide your face in the crook of Fyodor's neck. Dazai's forehead pressed against the back of your neck. You were warm. You yawn.

When Fyodor finished with this lullaby, he started a new one. Then another. And another.

Until you fall asleep.

*****

You were sleeping soundly for two hours now. Fyodor and Dazai weren't sleeping. They choose to look over you tonight.

And, in the dark of the night, they were planning.

Planning a revenge on people of Teyvat.

And on someone, named Neuvillette, whose name you screamed in your last nightmare.

Dazai looked Fyodor in the eyes.

Brown eyes met purple eyes.

"Vampire outbreak."

"Economy crisis."

"Arahabaki and Demonic Beast Guivre"

"Cannibalism"

"Lovecraft"

"Spare someone?"

"Only if Iris Flower want it."

"No letting Myshonok near portal or Teyvat."

"Not even the smallest glances."

Word after word.

Slowly, the plan of Teyvat's destruction will be finished.

For now, they will simply exchange some ideas. And make sure, that you are safe.

______

1. Russian lullaby.

Kitty, kitty-cat,

Kitty - gray tail!

Come, cat, spend the night,

Rock [Y/N]

Kitty, kitty-cat,

I will pay for your work:

I'll give you a piece of the pie

And a jug of milk.

I will knit you white scarf

And I’ll tie it around your neck;

I'll buy you a new fur coat

And I'll order you boots."

******

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[simpingismylive]

His compass, Her home

Captain Jack sparrow x pirate f. reader

Captain Jack sparrow x you

Reader = you

+18

Warnings:

MY AU!!, ooc, not canon, reader is a pirate,grief, angst, romantic, slow-burn maybe?, fluff, comedy, the usual pirate-stuff (violence, guns, swords, death, blood, gore, sentence, murder, betrayal?-), cursing, maybe smut or seductive, alcohol, death, jealousy, revenge, bed warming? (let me know if I forgot something!)

Prolog

(Read 'prolog' first! For a better understanding of the story!! Hope you enjoy!)

~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~

Chapter 1 - First meeting

~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~

What happened to the tale? Mhh fine fine let me get to it! Guess some people are just destened to meet right?~ Like us?~

~📖~📖~📖~

After a well needed change of clothes and eating some good food you managed to find out in which town you currently were. You remembered that one time your father mentioned to you that an old friend of his owned a bar here. Now it was time to search for it. After walking around, what felt for like hours, you found it. 'Lucifer' the sign said. Carefully opening the door you looked inside. It was quiet. This was weird for a bar. So you knocked on the door once. "TODAY IS CLOSED!!", a man's voice yelled. Well he seemed in a bad mood. But he was your only chance so you still stepped inside the bar, closing the door behind you.

"Ay but I heard you are an old friend of my father. He told me if something has happened I could look for you!", you explained waiting for an answer. In the next second a man with glasses, holding a book in his hand came around the corner. He looked at you curiously but also clearly judged you. You sighed and picked up the sheated sword around your waist. Showing it's crest to the man, " You do recognize this sword right? I'm his daughter. And he told me you own this bar and that you would help me if I ever needed it!", you explained again.

"Reader?!", he asked, looking up from the sword to you, his eyes softening as he placed the book down and taking of his glasses. You gave a smile and nodded, "Thats me~". He laughed and walked to the front of the bar. "Sit down I'll get us something to drink! It's not often that I meet old friends again!". Shortly after the man had two cups of rum ready. " You are old enough to drink right?", the man asked. You took a sip and grinned, "Ahh! Thats the stuff! You know how to start a conversation! I turned 18 yesterday or the day before. I don't know anymore..". The man laughed and nodded, "Just like your father! Also call me Van. What brings you hear?". You put down your cup after another sip. And smiled with a bitter taste to it. "Uncle Van, I wish I'd come to you with better news but.. My father is dead. He got killed by a man named.. uhh something with an S! Ssss- uhh- He is the head of the navy! He is known as the 'pirate hunter'! I managed to escape from him but he is still after me!", you explained, holding tears back.

A shocked face appeared on van's face. But it disappeared as quickly as it came, " I'm sorry for your lose! But what are you still doing here?! Reader, listen to me! His name is Salazar! He is dangerous! He is feared everywhere! People are even afraid to say his name! If you stay here he will find you in a day! Never stop moving for a year, two years or maybe forever! Hide and don't come out!", van rambled on in a panic. "I don't have a ship uncle van! The 'polar sky' sank..", you said with sigh. Van looked at you and took another sip of his cup, "There is a pirate crew which sets sails today! The captain was also a friend of your father! Closer than me! And I also think he desereves to know the truth.. Go and find him! He will let you join his crew without a doubt!".

A new crew? You felt a bit weird at that thought. It felt like a stab to the chest. But you had to pull yourself together! Well whatever it's better than to die here! But another friend of your father? Seriously? You knew your father was all around the cosmos but not like this?! "I didn't know my father was THIS well known! So many people talk about him", you said and smiled a bit shy. Embarrassed by your own realisation.

"By the seven seas how can you not know? There are tales everywhere about your father! 'Hellsman', a well known pirate. Many fear him and many admire him but everyone respects him. A good man and a good friend. But a problem for society! A troublemaker! But he had the best adventures to tell! Of course salazar is after your live!", van explained and looked seriously at you, "But your father also has many good friends! Many who will without a doubt protect you. But I doubt you would need that?", he added and looked at the sword you carried with you. A grin appeared on your face, "Sure my father teached me everything and trained me for years so that I act like a damsel in distress?", you laughed and waved your hand infront of your face. Van started to laugh too.

" Uncle van, I'm not scared of salazar. Nor am I scared to face him. But I'm no fool! I can't fight him by myself, it's to risky! I promised my father to live!", you caressed over your fathers sword and it seemed to vibrate as it's agreeing with your every word. Van looked at the sword and than back to you, in your eyes, "Smart like her mother and fearless like her father. The sword choose you it seems like! Go find the crew, the captain's name is 'morgan',".

You thanked van as you walked to the door. Finally a goal for tomorrow. You just hoped that this captain morgan would be as accepting as van mentioned. As you left through the door you didn't hear what van mumbled to himself,

"She is going to bring a storm to this world. That much is sure. And with hellsman gone the seas are no longer save! All the evil will start to show itself now..".

You walked to the corner of the town van mentioned. Finding a ship, a big ship. And at the harbor some crew members stood around. You walked up to one of them. He was rather goodlooking. Very goodlooking actually. "Ay, where can I find captain morgan?", you asked the boy infront of you. The goodlooking boy turned to you, clearly checking you out. Then he smirked, this damn smirk, it would haunt you in the best ways possible, "Are you sure you aren't looking for me, love?", he answered. He was goodlooking and charming?? No fair!!

You giggeled and smirked back, "Aren't you charming?~ But you can't allow me to join the crew can you, charmer?", you flirted right back. He looked stunned. Seems like you left him speachless. Cute~. "Captain morgan is inside the bar. Will you tell me why a beautiful lady wants to join a pirate crew?", he asked, his eyes locked on you. "Mhh yes I will charmer~", you leaned in and whispered, " To look at goodlooking boys like you~", you smirked and walked past him. Entering the bar you looked around. This bar was also empty. Seriously how do these bars even make money??

The boy stood still for a second. Processing what just went down. Then he turned around to look at the door of the bar. "Why does it feel like I just had a conversation with myself?", he asked confused, but his eyes showed interest.

A sword was pointed to you but you stood still, keeping calm. Your necklace didn't act up so the person holding the sword didn't want to hurt you. A man with one blind eye looked at you, " I thought I told everyone not to enter. Yet I hear foodsteps outside which means you must be either deaf or a drunkkard", the man said, looking at you. "I'm here to look for captain morgan. I hear he was a good friend of my father", you explained, not moving but looking down at your sword. "Well he is right infront of you. Tell me the name of your father and he will give you his answer!", the man answered, still holding the sword up to you. "Hellsman", you said and the moment that name left your mouth the sword dropped and it was back in it's sheats. "You could've said that in the beginning. Long time no see reader! Last time I saw you, you were still a baby. Not that you would've any memory of it haha. What brings you to me? Did your father send you?", captain morgan asked as he laughed and leaned back against the bar behind him.

This question. Again. You sighed. "No. Sadly not captain morgan. My father.. he got killed. By salazar. I managed to escape since he protected me. But salazar is still after my live. I need to leave this island as soon as possible. Uncle van told me about you", you told him, playing nervous with your fingers. The man infront of you left out a curse and hit his hand on the table, "Fucking bastard!".

But then he turned around with a softer look in eyes, "I'm sorry couldn't control my emotions there. So you here to ask me if you can sail with us?", the captain asked with a smile on his face. "I'm here to ask if I can join your crew! I'm not asking for special treatment! I can fight, navigate, steer the ship, read and write, I can work like all the others! My father teached me all of it!", you quickly added, thinking of how else you could be usefull. But the captain infront of you just laughed and patted your shoulder gently. "Your my friends daughter how could I ever make you work like a slave? Of course you can join and sail with us. I don't doubt your strength or your smarts. You probably stronger than all of them together!", captain morgan laughed and smiled at you.

You smiled brighter and felt happy for once in days. "Thank you so so much captain morgan!", you said with a big smile. "Well then come! Let's board the ship. I'm done here anyway. I'll introduce and show you around the ship!", so the captain walked out of the door and to his ship. You followed his every step. "Oi boy! Tell the others we are to set sail! All on board!", captain morgan said to one boy, which then went to gather everyone.

Walking on the ship you looked around. "This is my ship! The 'wicked wench'! Welcome aboard!", captain morgan introduced you and showed you every corner of the ship. "She is such a mesmerizing ship! A beautiful one. But not as beutiful as the polar sky mind you!", you said and smiled. This made the captain laugh, "I believe in your eyes no ship could ever compare to the polar sky!", he teased you.

Ohh how wrong he was! There was one! But that is a tale for the future!

"Ay crew listen! This here is our newest crew member! Reader! Her father is a good friend of mine so is she! If any of you start a fight with her, you start a fight me alright?!", captain morgan introduced you to the crew members. "Ay sir!!", was heard. You hit the captains shoulder and laughed, "Stop that! You're scaring them!", with that you turned to crew members and grinned, "I'm a pirate like you just treat me like one of you!", you said. Captain morgan just laughed in the back.

A while later you all got ready to set sail. "Reader can you deal with the sails? You there! Lad! Help her!", captain morgan commanded or asked? You nodded, "Ay captain". You got ready to climb up before you looked over at the boy next to you, "Oi boy! Let's do a race! Who is first up owns the other a drink!", you grinned, ready to start. The boy first looked confused but soon joined in.

"Won!!", you yelled having raised the sails first as you laughed and looked to the boy. "Looks like you owe me a drink!", you laughed and used the rope to swing and jump down. Landing gentle on the deck. The other crew members just laughed at this scenario. But one looked at you with interest. With wonder.

Captain morgan watched you and chuckled to himself, "Trouble just like her father", with that he got ready to steer the ship towards the open sea.

The boy came to you with a drink, holding the cup out to you, "H-Here miss your drink", he said. You looked confused, "Aren't you geting a drink too?", "N-No I- uhh", "Ohh are you under age?", you asked, "Noo but-", "Don't tell me you have rules for drinking here?", you sighed. "No no miss! I thought I lost soo.. no drink for me?", the boy said. You looked at him, "Who said you can't also have a drink? You didn't lose you were just a bit slow! Let's go and get you a drink too, savey?", you smiled and took the cup from the boy. Which looked at you with a bright smile now.

After you had your drinks another boy suddenly stepped up to you, "Miss why did you want to 'join' our crew?", he asked. Clearly questioning your reasons for beeing here. You could tell at the look on his face and the necklace vibrating around your neck. So he wants a fight huh? You thought but smiled instead, "I needed to leave the island as soon as possible and heard a good friend of my father was around. So I asked if I could join. Now I'm here. End of story?", you explained. "Ay I heard! But why say you're a pirate?", he asks. You sighed, "Because I am a pirate?", you answered and added in, "But thats not what you want to hear you want to fight me, to see if I'm worthy of joining the crew right?".

The boy looked serious at you and nodded, "Why are you scared?", he asked. You laughed at that and put your cup down. "Captain morgan permission to fight one of your crewmates?", you yelled as you walked in the middle of the ship. The boy following you, accepting your challenge. "Granted! But reader DON'T kill him! I still need him", captain morgan said, steering the ship. Already knowing who would win, but he couldn't help himself he wanted to see your abilities and you fighting with your fathers sword. You nodded, "I'm not my father captain! I won't go overboard", you said and pulled your sword.

The fight had started. The boy ran up to you, swinging his sword at you, you dodged all of his moves. They were way to obvious. The next one you blocked and then you attacked. Pushing him father in a corner. But he blocked your attacks. Not bad, you thought. But not good enough. The next attack you dodged by jumping on the side of the ship, to push you off the wall and land behind him. But he was fast and blocked your attack. This time he pushed you back. Attack after attack. Making you dodge all of them. "Whats wrong 'pirate' you only dodging now?", the boy said, mocking you.

"Captain who do you think will win this fight?", a boy asked. "Well jack what do you think?", captain morgan asked back. Jack looked back to you, "Reader will win. Who is she?", jack asked his captain, clearly interested in your skills. Captain morgan nodded, "Ay jack. Captain Hellsman's daughter. He liked to call her 'the compass of the sea'. He always spoke of her with such pride", captain morgan leaned against the wheel as he told jack about you.

The boy was mocking you? Well it was fun. Time for the finishing move. Having enough you dodged the next move by kneeing down you did a slide underneath his legs and from below you aimed right at his hand, the place he held his sword in. And with one swing of your sword the boys weapon landed somewhere infront of him on the deck. Unarmed he looked at you in shock. As you got up behind him and pointed your sword at his neck. "Pirate! You see now?", you asked.

" THAT MOVE!!-", captain morgan gasped in suprise. "It's brilliant! How did she do that?", jack asked, looking at you with almost sparkling eyes. It was strange, everything about you captivated him. Pulled him in and kept him there. "That was her fathers special and most feared move. An unpredictable move that without a doubt always unarms the enemys!", captain morgan described remembering the old times.

Not wanting to accept this another crew member slammed your sword out of your hands. Your necklace pullsed fiercly. You were in danger, but now it would prove itself if your fathers sword truly had chosen you! The other upset crew member swang his sword right at you.

"CAPTAIN! SHE WILL-", jack took a step forward in shock. "Not yet! She won't lose with that sword!", morgan said holding jack back.

And within seconds the sword moved on its own and flew full speed back into your hand. It vibrated strongly. And with that you blocked the attack and the crew member dropped his sword and held his hand pain. Looking scared at you. You pointed the sword up, "Anyone else?".

"What is that sword?", jack asked suprised. He couldn't wait for the captain to finally explain. "That is the sword of readers father. Or it once was. It clearly choose it's new master. That much is obvious! It's name is 'Cerberus' and also where captain hellsman got his name from. A tale described cerberus to be the dog of the underworld. That sword is cursed and readers father, hellsman was the only and first one to ever fight with it! It chooses it's owner not the other way around!", captain morgan explained.

"W-Witch!", the crew member yelled. "No! Pirate!", you answered. "You are a witch!", the boy said again. "Pirate!", you answered. " W-", the boy started but a familiar voice cut him off, "Oi there is no need for name calling! You clearly lost the fight!". It was the boy again! The charmer infront of the bar! "Jack can't you see she is cursed? She will curse us all-", " The only curse here is your horror storys mate", jack answered, standing next to you. "She has cursed you jack! Jack you acting strange!", the boy said. "He always acts strange?", another boy answered from the crownest. He dressed very elegant? While jack's clothes seemed wild and free. "I do not!", jack answered, "You do!", "I don't,", "Witch!", " No pirate!", "Witch!", " Pirate!!"

This continued until Captain morgan was  stepping up, "ENOUGH! As everyone can see she is a seasoned fighter and pirate! Fighting time is over lads!", morgan yelled. "Ayyy captain!!", the crew members yelled and in haste went back to their work.

You put away 'cerberus' and patted it twice so it calmed down. Before walking up to the captain. Jack and the elegant boy followed. "Say reader what is that sword exactly?", jack asked eyeing cerberus. You grinned,

"Why so that you can steal it?", you asked. "N-No.. No reason!", jack stuttered, biting his hand looking away. "Of course you want to steal it! Like you always do!", the other boy said. "That is no true hector!", jack said offended. "Sure I'll tell you charmer~", you smiled at jack. Both boys looked at you. "Why would you tell a thief your secret?", asked hector confused. "Because that sword, cerberus can't be stolen!", captain morgan answered the question. Which made you nod your head.

"You could steal it but it won't be of any use to you or to that person you would sell it to, if you're thinking like that. Cerberus is a cursed sword. It doesn't listen to anyone. My father was the first and only one it ever listened to. It only chooses one and follows that persons commands until their death. After that it chooses a new person. It won't listen to anyone else and at the next moment possible find itself back to his owner!", you explained as you caressed over the sheat twice again. You looked back up. Hector looked not happy with that explaination.

"Do you want to hold it hector?", you asked. "Reader!", captain morgan warned you. "Don't worry captain, cerberus doesn't harm as long as it's owner is save. I also carried cerberus around as I was little and it refused me but never hurt me!", you smiled. "I want to! I don't believe in curses!", hector said holding out his hands. "Here", you said putting cerberus in hectors hand. Jack quickly run to your side and hid behind you. "What are you doing?", you asked jack. "It's safer here! I don't wanna stand next to hector-", jack explained, looking over your shoulder. "There is nothing to worry about-", you answered with a laugh but got cut off.

In the next second the sword started to shake strongly. Trying to escape hectors grip. "Woahh!!-", hector yelled as cerberus moved to you and almost pulled hector over, making him fall to his knees infront you. Jack and captain morgan started to laugh. And you giggeled. "See? Cerberus is just a loyal sword!", you praised the sword. And with that cerberus started to vibrate. Making hector drop it to the floor, "Ouch! Hot! It burned my hands!", hector cursed. Cerberus jumped back into your hands and you patted it twice, putting it back on your waist. Jack and captain morgan still laughed at the confused hector. You started to laugh too, "I told you so. Poor hector has to start believing in curses now", you laughed. Jack placed an arm around you and grinned, "Hector lost his mind just witnessing that", with that you both laughed more. "Can't you both take one thing seriously??", hector asked annoyed and got up from the floor.

This cheerfull moment made you forget all the bad stuff that had happened over the last few days. It was a refresher and a new start!

~~~ Some time later ~~~

"Reader can you come here real quick?", captain morgan asked as he held a map, jack standing next to him. You walked over to them. "Here captain!", you said. " Good! I thought it would be good to tell you our course! We will sail to the devils triangle! Did you sail this way before?", captain morgan asked you. Ahh.. this place again. The place you lost everything and barely managed to escape with your live. Yet you nodded at the question,  "Yes twice. Can I help with something?". " Can you draw on the map where we should avoid and how to sail the best?", the captain asked, handing you a map.

Taking a look at the map and taking the pen next to it, "Sure! My father said there are three areas to avoid! The front and the sides. Sides in: Don't sail to close to the island! It is to shallow, you would get stuck. Sail farther out on the sea there is the water deep. I mean VERY far out on the sea! The front is the most dangerous tho! There are everywhere rocks that grow from the bottom of the sea. You won't see them from above, especially at night time! Best is to avoid the front a mile before it!", you explained, drawing the spots on the map. "That is great information!", morgan said, praising you. "But how do we know when we should change the course infront of the island?", asked hector. Oh he was here too! You were so focused you didn't even see him there. "Thats simple hector! There, on the left side is a sharp rock, just one tall one. It's kind of like a warning sign. You see that, you change your course!", you answered.

" Why are we not just sailing from the other side where it's save anyway?", a good question asked by the handsome jack. Captain morgan and you looked at each other and nodded, you both shrugged.  "We can't sail that way jack! How will we sail all around the world to get to the other side??", hector the reasonable one said it as it is. You and morgan looked at each other again and nodded both your heads in agreement. "And why don't we just sail infront of the island and make a turn before we all crash and die?", jack asked again, picking up the map and looking at it closer. "Because there are stones everywhere jack! With a big ship like this you would crash and drown!", hector answered the confused pirate. Once again you and the captain just nodded.

"Great! Then everything is clear!", jack smiled proudly and walked away. Hector rolled his eye and you laughed calling out to jack, " Thanks for the help charmer~". Jack turned around again and winked at you. Making you wave your hands infront of your face while laughing. Hector made a chocking sound, "I just lost 10 years of my live seeing that", he turned around. And captain morgan just studied the map, before looking back up at you, "Thank you reader. We can work with this. Rest a bit and try to sort your thoughts mhh?", with that he left back to the helm.

Having some time to yourself you sat on the rails of the ship. Holding on to the ropes and looking at waves crashing and the stars above. It was night time already huh? Time moved so fast. It had been 3 days already since you had lost everything. 3 days since your live was turned upside down. 3 days since you saw your beloved ship burn down. It was a lot. You lost your home. Not because you had a roof over your head but in sense that you had a place to come back too. That was all gone now. You were alone. A compass lost at sea. With a course that wasn't her own. Tears in your eyes you locked at the stars above. You felt so lost. And in that moment-

"Ay love, are you counting the stars? Which one do you want I'll get it for you~", jacks voice cut through your thoughts. You looked up at him and giggeled, "Ay charmer, what nonsense are you spouting? How can you get a star for me?",  uncried tears running over your cheeks. Jack leanded over you, pressing his chest against your back and whispered in your ear, "Look down beautiful". So you did and you couldn't believe what you saw. The sea sparkled in a  bright blue light, making the ground beneath visible. It looked like many golden stars sparkling in the sea, rising towards the surfice and fainting.

"This is incredible jack!!", you smiled and your tears stopped. Jack smiled and sat down next to you. "Just like you love. Not everything is lost. Beyond the horizon waits a new location!", looking at the beautfiul sight before us, jack grinned at me. "Here love, to us and our first adventure together!", jack gave you a cup of rum, taking a sip of his own. You smiled at him. You werent lonely. Just lost. But jack was right. So you took your cup and also took a sip from it, "To our beloved horizon charmer", you smiled back at him.

~📖~📖~📖~

A lost compass? Does something like that really exist? Or is your home maybe right infront of you?~ Maybe Chapter 2 will give you the answer you seek?

~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~🖤~❤~

(Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Chapter 2 coming soon! 💜)

[descendantsramblings]

You are seriously such a talented writer! I was just wondering if I could request a hook x reader where he accidentally eats a love potion and falls in love with reader but like after the spell breaks it turns out he’s actually fallen for her?

Thank you so much sweetness ❤️ and absolutely it’s almost like an accidental Bal I love that

Side Effects

James Hook x Reader

Pronouns Used: she/her/hers

Summary: Someone should’ve warned him that one of the cups Uliana had given him held a little bit more than sprite and Malibu. Now it looks like he’s fallen victim to sugary side effects of a love potion.

Warnings: underage drinking, love potions are always a warning around here but especially right now because someone's drink is spiked with one, Hook is absolutely needy while under that spell and a little ooc but i promise it's due to the potion, flirty and sexual jokes but nothing that is truly nsfw (unless you count hook sleeping in his boxers ig), also a kiss scene that I didn't mean to make like that. so maybe a little spicier than I intended when I started on this idk

Word Count: 4.3K (idk how I did that either, inspired ig)

    Villain parties were so much louder and longer than hero parties were. There was alcohol mixed with  the faint smell of smoke and the type of music she would never hear back in her friend group’s parties. If she was honest with you, (Y/n) was enjoying it, absolutely drinking up the atmosphere around her, despite the fact that she’d normally be asleep by now. Not that she even felt tired, the room was too lively to let her give way to the normal exhaustion that would plague her by this time. She realized suddenly that she was actually kind of thankful Maleficent had invited her, swearing it had been a joke until she got there and the villains looked nearly excited to see her. This was actually fun, she felt relaxed in a way she probably shouldn’t be, two drinks in and singing along to songs she didn’t even realize she knew. Maybe she doesn’t know the words, but she’s saying something. God only knows how she was hoping she could get an invitation next time they decide to do something wild like this. (Y/n) wanted to drink up this feeling every time the cup would be offered to her. 

    Speaking of cups being offered to her, her “party buddy” as he’d deemed himself was heading back to her, sliding a blue plastic cup into her waiting fingers. “Now if you ask me,” his voice is raised over the music, “Malibu is a cheap excuse for rum, but it seemed like it would be more your style than that last drink was.” She nods, taking a sip from the cup which was the third one he’d given her all night. In a normal world, she wouldn’t trust a drink handed to her by just anyone, but something about Hook made her feel like she could. Maybe it was just because she felt like she knew him, the boy had been her partner in Alchemy for the past two years running, sharing little jokes and passing notes. “Yeah?” She hums, tilting her head to the side slightly as if to nod as she reaches out to grab the second cup from the crook of his elbow, holding it steady so he could properly grab it. “Better than the last one?” She nods, taking another sip as she looks at him, “Sweeter. This one doesn’t burn.” “Good, seems like I found your drink of choice, yeah?” The girl nods letting her words come out on a giggle, “Don’t give me that first drink ever again, Hook. I’m serious.” He hums, raising his own cup to his lips to cover his playful smirk, “I’ll get you warmed up to a gentlemen’s rum eventually, Lass.” “Gentleman is a strong word for you, isn’t it Captain? And you’d get me running around with your crew on the daily before you’d have me drinking that for fun.” Despite the callous words there’s a genuine smile hanging on her lips as she watches the boy. She hadn’t realized spending time with him could be so fun, perhaps that was wrong of her. 

    When the pirate looked up from his drink he could tell something felt new. His eyes dancing across her face as if eating up the memory of her like that, so carefree at one of his parties. Tasting the wilder side of life. The blue and green lights making her skin glow, hair slightly mused from where she had been dancing with a rosy tint to her cheeks from the alcohol and teasing little smirk on her face as she stared at him. The smirk coupled with the gentlest look in her eyes. She’d always been stunning to him but right now she looked nearly mythical. The gods should be jealous of her beauty, he was absolutely positive of that. “Have I ever told you that I think you’re breathtaking, Lass?” She looks down, tongue poking out between her teeth as she smiles, “I don’t think you have, Hook, no.” He tucks the dull edge of his hook under her chin, tilting her head up, “Hey, let me see you. Don’t shy away from me.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss to her right cheek before he whispers in her ear, “And I beg of you, call me James.” 

     The pirate before her was a flirt, (Y/n) was more than aware of that, and it made her hate the way butterflies erupted in her stomach at his touch. The feeling of his lips setting her on fire. “I bet that’s what you tell all your girls,” she teases, trying to sound confident as she shoves his shoulder gently. His hook wraps around her bicep, pulling her against him and her hand finds its way forward to absorb some of the shock of the collison. “What other girls love? As far as I’m concerned you’re the only one here.” She reaches up, smoothing a stray strand of his hair back into place as he takes another sip of his drink. “Is that so?” He nods, staring down at her glossed lips, “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to see you outside of that old man’s watchful eye. I’m so glad you came tonight.” Her hand busies itself behind his back, toying with the boy’s collar as they stand there face to face, “I think you’ve had enough to drink, James. I never picked you to be a lightweight.” He hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder, “The only thing I’m drunk on is you, love.”  

     Right hand reaching out to his, taking his cup and  she’s laughing, sliding it onto the table behind him, “Whatever you say, Captain. How about you let me take you home?” His ever present smirk turns into more of a genuine smile as he nods, letting the girl untangle herself from him. Normally he’d stay at a party until they had to shut it down, he’d never left this early. But he did feel off, maybe he was drunk? Had he made his drinks too strong to compensate for how light he was pouring hers without noticing? It didn’t matter, not when he was taking hold of her hand and she was letting him. Her thumb rubbing light circles on the back of his hand as she led him through the crowd. The cool air outside felt heavenly on his skin as the girl led him across the rocks of the black lagoon. Wind kissing his face that he didn’t even realize had started to sweat. “Hey, love?” She hums, pulling him slightly closer to her side as they make it to dry, stable land. “You know I meant it when I said you were breathtaking, don’t ya?” She shakes her head, “How long have you been holding onto that one, huh?” “Since last year, the second class project I think. God I should’ve told you how lovely you are sooner, I didn’t realize you’d let me hold your hand if I did.” It earns him a laugh, her hip knocking into his playfully, “Don’t make me take my hand back from you, Hook.” His grip tightens, a whine slipping out of his normally cocky lips, “You wouldn’t dare.” 

    “Wouldn’t I?” She hums, still drawing those light circles on his hand though. “I’ve gotta say, I’m kinda glad you’re a lightweight, James. You make a cute drunk.” He laughs, leaning his weight against her ever so slightly as they wander through the woods, “That sounds like you’re planning to take advantage of me. Not that I’d mind.” “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she stutters over the words, free hand flying up to cover her mouth.”I just meant like, you’re being so sweet right now you know? I’m glad I get to take care of you for a little bit, I feel like every time I see you, you’re watching over me you know? I’m glad I get to return the favor for once.” “You are?” “I am.”

   The rest of their walk to his dorm is filled with light and playful conversation. She hated to admit it, she knew her friends would hate to hear her say it, but Hook was a genuinely nice guy to be around. And his calloused hand felt so nice in her softer one. She was nearly disappointed when they got back to the boy’s shared dorm, not wanting to let him go. “Give me your key, Hook.” He shakes his head, dark feathered hair moving around his pretty features in a way that made him almost look like he was moving in slow motion. “Hook come on, give me your keys. It’s time to go to bed.” He points the golden piece of metal at the end of his arm towards her, “That is not my name, not to you.” She laughs softly, taking his hook into her other hand so she can pull him closer, “James,” the name is drawn out and cooed, their faces meer inches apart, “Would you please give me your key so I can get you into bed?” He pouts, shaking his head again, “Can’t.” 

     “And why can’t you?” She never dreamed him to be this needy and stubborn, part of her almost found it precious. “If I give you my key then I have to let go of your hand and you’re going to leave me.” Her hand lets go of his hook, dipping into the pocket on his jacket instead, “I promise you, James, I’ll stay until you fall asleep. Now can I please,” her fingers wrap around his keys, pulling them out of his pocket. “Thief,” he mumbles, watching her turn away from him to unlock the door. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you wake up in your own bed and not the floor somewhere.” He leans against her, shaking his head, “I always find my way home when I’m drinking, Princess.”: “Not a princess, James,” she sighs, throwing the door open. “You’re my princess.” 

     She ignores the remark, instead letting her eyes travel around the room. (Y/n) is pretty sure that she’s never seen a dorm room look like it belonged to the people residing in it as much as this one did. Maroon and forest green covering the beds, black decor and golden tapestries hanging to the walls. An old torn flag that she was sure once took its home on the Jolly Roger was hanging over Hook’s bed, taking up nearly his whole wall. There wasn’t a gap of space in that room that didn’t scream the two boys’ names. Something about it was oddly comforting. “Nice room, Captain.” He smiles, watching her take it in. She looked nearly awestruck, the boy couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in it. “Thank you, princess.” She rolls her eyes, headed over to the dresser on his side of the room, “Which drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” “Pajamas?” She turns to him, a single brow raised, “Yeah James, your pajamas. PJs? Sleep clothes?” He shakes his head, waving her off as he removes his coat, “Oh no, none of that. Just boxers and an undershirt. If I feel like leaving on the undershirt.” (Y/n) can feel the heat rising to her face as the pirate takes his boots off. Of course he didn’t wear pajamas.     “Okay, well then you get uh,” she swallows, turning around to face the wall again, “Comfortable. And I will face this way until you get in your bed.” James laughs, shaking his head as he shrugs off his silky button up, “I didn’t expect you to be so easily flustered.” “Yeah well, you just told me you basically sleep naked, so.” “It’s just a little bare chest and thigh, not like you’d get to see anything too frisky without wanting to.” “Just get in bed before I change my mind and leave you here alone, Hook.” He shuts his mouth, letting his belt and jeans fall to the ground before striding over to his bed. She can hear his blankets russel as he adjusts, sliding into the stiffly made double bed. “You can turn around now, love. Worst you’re going to see is my shoulders.” She rotates on her heel, slowly opening her eyes to look at him. 

    As promised, Hook is tucked into his bed, shoulders and head barely visible above the maroon comforter and white sheets. He watches her with a soft smile, waiting for her to move. “You said you’d stay with me. Do you need a shirt?” She shakes her head, making her way over to the side of his bed, toeing her shoes off as she goes. “I said I’d stay with you until you fell asleep. Not that I’d stay with you James, you need some rest.” She slides onto the bed beside him, legs stretched out along his side as her back leans against his headboard. James turns onto his side, an arm coming to stretch out over her thighs as he looks up at her, “Well, if you won’t stay the night with me, will you at least let me take you out tomorrow?” She holds her breath waiting for him to laugh at her or something. For him to give her any sort of sign that he’s teasing, or just trying to hurt her. But he doesn’t looking up to her with love struck and hopeful eyes that have her feeling a touch weak. “If you can remember asking me that in the morning, come find me to ask me again. Then I’ll say yes.” He nods, leaning his forehead against her leg as he gets comfortable, “I’ll remember.” She hums, letting her hand fall into the boy’s hair, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, James. Goodnight.” 

     (Y/n) isn’t sure how long she’s been by his side before the boy is softly snoring beside her, she does know the party has ended by the time he is though. Morgie le Fay slipping in visibly exhausted and ready to fall into his bed. The sight of the girl making him jump. “Hello, what are you doing here?” She slides out from under Hook’s arm, grabbing a spare pillow from behind him to take her place. “He was wasted, couldn’t let him just wander around like that,” She stretches the stiffness out of her muscles as she speaks, eyes glancing around to retrace her steps to her shoes. “Hook didn’t strike me as a needy drunk though, it’s kinda cute. He’s probably going to be hungover tomorrow, if y’all have tylenol or anything I recommend leaving some out before you go to sleep.” She slips her shoes on walking to the door, “Goodnight Morgie.” He nods to her, mumbling what he thinks is an audible goodnight as he turns to look at his friend. Needy drunk? Hook’s always been one to fight when he was drunk. The sorcerer couldn’t prove it but something was off about the interaction he just had. It would have to be something he’d figure out in the morning though, the boy too tired to worry now. As long as his friend was fine, which it seemed he was, that issue could wait. 

                           ˚⋆°˖ ～ 🍂࿔ ฅ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍂 ⋅

     Much to (Y/n)’s surprise, Hook did remember asking her out the night of the party. It was actually a sweet little date, just the two of them curled up in the corner of a cafe getting to know each other outside of what Alchemy and the party had allowed them. She didn’t think she’d find herself so excited to be on a date with James, he had a reputation of course, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. But then one date turned to two, and two turned to three. By the fifth date the pirate had asked her to be his girlfriend, something that she hadn’t expected but she accepted, albeit a touch too eagerly if you were to ask her. Not that he’d agree, if it wasn’t for Morgie’s voice in his ear he probably would have asked her on the first date. 

    Now it had been four months of whatever her and James got started on the night of that party and the whole school was hyper aware of the attachment the two had developed to each other. Not that Hook would let other people forget. He was seemingly always touching her, holding her hand or his hook looping through her belt loops with his arm around her side. Pressing needy little kisses on top of her head or softly on her cheek. She adored the attention but if she was honest something about it always felt wrong to her. Not that she didn’t deserve his affection, or didn’t want it. Goodness knew she craved him when he was away. More so like something about it was just, for lack of better words on her end, off. It was as if James never sobered up from that night’s party and she knew she wasn’t the only one who could see it. The boy's friends always felt like they were watching them, it nearly made her skin crawl. And the feeling was getting to be too much for her now, the girl squirming under their gaze from where she sat curled against Hook’s side. She should slip out now, it would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? 

     Her eyes flickered between the watchful eyes of Maleficent and Uliana before they flickered back up to her boyfriend. Softly tapping his cheek with her index finger so he’d look down at her. “Yes, love?” She smiles slightly, eyes staring at his ever adoring ones. Had they ever looked at her any other way? It was like she couldn’t remember. “I need to head out, I have a project for magical creatures that I need to go finish.” A frown pulls on his lips but he nods, pressing a soft kiss into her hairline before letting her get out of his grip. Eyes following the girl all the way to the door, drinking her in as if he’d never see her again, face settled into the palm of his hand. 

    “God, why are you still acting like that?” Uliana scoffs, glaring at the boy -who used to be her right hand man- in annoyance. “Acting like what, Uli?” He doesn’t peel his eyes from the door, as if she’d stumble back through it if he waited long enough, hoped hard enough. “Like you’re spelled,” she pauses, locking eyes with Maleficent as if they had both realized something dreadful had happened. “Oh my god,” Maleficent’s hand covers her mouth as she turns to look at her friend in shock. Had they done this? The girl was supposed to be the lovestruck zombie here, not Hook. “Oh you are spelled,” the pixie’s voice is littered with a hopeless regret, staring at her beloved friend in disappointment.     “I’m not spelled, Mali, I’m just in love. You of all people should get that, with the way you fall over Hades and all,” his tone is far too dreamy to fit him, the boy finally turning away from the door and back to his friends. “No, Hook, you’re spelled. Uli and I spelled you,” she sighs, shaking her head as she stares at the boy. His face seems to contort into an expression somewhere between confusion and anger, “What do you mean you spelled me?” “Well it wasn’t meant for you,” Uliana sighs, throwing her hands up, “It was meant for the girl. You handed her the wrong cup.” Morgie turns to the girls in shock, the night of the party finally adding up in his mind. Hook was an angry drunk, he knew his friend well enough to know that. The boy hadn’t been drunk at all, that’s why he wasn’t hung over. “You tried to spell (Y/n)? Why?” “We were trying to help him,” Uliana throws a hand out at Hook as she snaps, “He was too scared to ever admit he liked her to her and we were sick of hearing about it. She was supposed to fall in love with him so she would ask him out and he’d shut up.” 

     Hook rises off of his bed, glaring at Uliana with an emotion she couldn’t quite place dancing in his eyes. “So you decided to spell her?” He shoves the sea witch back, not rough enough to hurt her but it gets his point across. “You could have hurt her! What if there were side effects?” “But she would have loved you, is that not what you’d been whining about for a year?” “She wouldn’t have loved me! The magic in her would’ve tied her to me, she wouldn’t have loved me.” “Well she loves you now doesn’t she? So what does it matter?”

    He lets out an exaggerated sigh, turning on his heel to storm out of his dorm. Hook’s friends were calling for him from his room but he didn’t have in him to care. He had to find (Y/n), if their love was real -able to exist past the spell-she should be able to break it, shouldn’t she? They hadn’t kissed yet, the girl always shying away from his lips. Maybe some part of her could tell? Had Uliana told her? Surely not. If it didn’t work, if he felt the exact same after kissing her, he’d go take a dip in the enchanted fountain. That water could undo anything, then he would just have to potentially break the loveliest girl he’d ever met’s heart. Hook couldn’t help but hope she could end the whole thing, or maybe living his life spelled wouldn’t be that bad. Not if it meant he had her. 

    The pounding on (Y/n)’s door made her jump out of her skin. Who in their right mind would be banging on her door like that? Uliana maybe? Had she forgot something and James sent the sea witch to bring it to her? That didn’t seem right, he would always bring her things himself. So who in their right mind was on the other side of her door acting like a mad man?  She didn’t expect to see those familiar dark doe eyes and rich feathered locks behind her door. Her boyfriend looking panicked and a little angry as his eyes take her in. 

   “Don’t shy away,” he mumbles, grabbing the back of her head and threading his fingers through her hair. (Y/n) doesn’t get a second to question him before his lips are slamming into hers, kissing her hungrily like he needed her for survival. A movement so primal it was shocking. Yet she melts into him, hands sliding up his torso, one resting on his chest while the other needily cups his jaw, pulling him as close as she could. His lips were slightly chapped, feeling raw against her own soft ones but she couldn’t find it in her to care, fingers sliding further back on his head so she could softly pull at his hair. Hook groans against her lips slightly at the contact, biting her bottom one and tugging it back slightly as he pulls away. 

    He felt like something had been lifted off of him as he looked at her. She was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, Hook was entirely sure of that, but it was like the fog around her had finally lifted. By god she’d done it. James didn’t even know it was possible to fall in love with someone while you were under a love spell. She pants slightly, looking up at him in shock, “What was that for?” “Oh, Love,” he breathes, moving his hand from the back of her head so he could stroke her cheek, “You just saved me from myself.” Her brows furrow, pursuing her lips as she waits on him to elaborate, no further words seem to come though. “James,” she laughs, though the sound comes out more nervous than she intended, “What are you talking about?” 

    “Uliana, she,” he shakes his head, nudging the girl back into her dorm so he can follow her in, letting the door slam behind him. “I guess it was the night of the party, she handed me one of those malibu sprites we had remember them?” She nods, waving with a hand for him to continue, it was odd, like he had finally sobered up. (Y/n) felt like she could breath around him again, hands lingering on him without feeling like they were doing something wrong. “Well apparently she put a love potion in one of them, she intended it for you but.” “But you drank it, that’s why you seemed like such a lightweight. That's why Maleficent invited me, isn’t it? They were trying to prank me.” The girl shakes her head, dusting off his shoulder. “So what now, do you want to like,” she sighs, looking down, “Do you want to like, break up now that you realized you were just spelled or?” He grabs her chin with his good hand, tilting her head up to look at him, “Do I need to kiss you again or are you going to use your brain?” She looks at him as if he’s grown two heads and he sighs. “Darling, what are the two ways to break a love potion’s hold? I know you pay attention in alchemy, you should know this.” She bites her lip, searching his deep dark eyes like they’re going to answer the question for her. 

     “What breaks a love spell, Love?” She knew this, “Water from the enchanted lake,” there's a pause. She knows the second one, she knows she does. “I haven’t been to the enchanted lake or the fountain. I came straight here from my dorm so what broke my spell?” Her lip finds its way between her teeth, chewing on it as she stares at the boy she’d grown to love oh so dearly. Love. “I did,” she breathes it, pulling the boy closer and connecting their lips again. It’s gentler this time, not as aggressive and needy as the kiss before, this one is full of nothing but love. His hands moving to cup his lover's face, pulling her as close as he could manage. That was his smart girl, she saved him.

[siasthoughts]

« ADRENALINE »

CONCEPT; YOU WERE A NEW, YOUNG HIRE IN THE ORGANIZATION, AND RYU WAS ASSIGNED AS YOUR TRAINER.

TOPICS/CONTENTS; AGE GAP IN MIND . ORAL . GAGGING . P IN V . PRAISING . FEM!READER . MAYBE OOC? . DRUNK S3X . WITH PLOT 😔

LISTEN... i know i'm way more into dom!reader but these type of men got me bringing out my switch side 😍

WORD COUNT; 1.7K (forgot to add 😭)

"so you're the new girl here?" a raspy voice calls out as the huge doors open, you nod, feeling intimidated by his presence. "alright, i'm ryu, no need to tell me your name, i already know." you could read the room and tell that he definitely does not want to be here, yet he takes steps toward you, running a hand through his white-streaked hair and tying it back. he takes out the sword from the sheath, the scraping metal echoing throughout the large room.

"come at me." he taunts, standing unguarded, and unbothered as he holds his sword lazily toward you. you frown at his flippant attitude, you take out your two daggers out of their own cases. you smile, thinking you can easily outdo this old man. you run with your full speed, making you seem like you flashed out of sight. you jump behind him, getting ready to stab atleast his shoulders only—

his sword meets your daggers, clanging loudly as his eyes meets yours, maintaining his nonchalant gaze. "you're fast, but so predictable." you jump back, making him face you. "and... how do you suggest i should change that?" you ask, gripping onto your daggers tightly, "don't think about your next move," he walks toward you as he rolls his shoulders, "just let your instincts drive you."

"what do you even me—" and before you could even finish your sentence, he's behind you with his arm wrapped firmly around your neck along with his sword softly grazing it—making you feel it's cold metal and sending shivers through your body. you feel his breath against your ear, mixed with yours. you gulp, bringing the thin skin of your neck slightly closer to his blade for a mere moment. "don't be so tense, it's not like i'd kill you." he whispers, "even if i wanted to, you know i couldn't."

he lets go of you, and you let out a heavy breath, leaving you breathless for a good minute. "remember, don't think." he says, going back to his original starting point, taking up his hand, and using his index and middle finger to signal you to come back too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AFTER MULTIPLE FUTILE ATTEMPTS OF TRYING TO GET AS LITTLE AS A SCRATCH ON HIM, YOU SURRENDER.

"i... i give up!" you groan, completely breathless with your palms rested on your knees. he sighs, removing his hair tie, and letting his hair fall atop his shoulders. he walks toward one of the platforms near the stairs, and taking the quarter empty bottle, popping it open and bringing it to his mouth as his back leaned against the ledge. you wipe the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand as you walked toward him, hopping onto the ledge to sit and rest.

you peek at the bottle's label, not like you really had anything to know about alcohol, but you peeked at the label and just see the word 'rum,' "can i have some?" you ask, now looking at him. he doesn't answer until he finishes drinking, leaving half of the bottle, which is still an entire three gulps probably, "finish it if you want." he hands you the bottle without looking at you, you take it, and with only a few moments of hesitation, you drink it.

you feel it burn down your throat, though it was unexpectedly sweet, almost like caramel. you stop for a moment, staring at the label, making sure to remember it if you ever decide to buy alcohol. you don't notice, but he eyes you through the corner of his vision, observing your features and physicality. you down the remaining amount, since it was weirdly good. "thanks! i feel more... rejuvenated now." you place the bottle back down on the concrete with a clink.

you look down at him, observing him. wait, did he always look this good? his hair, rested nicely and complimented his face, or maybe it was just his aura and presence. you reach for his hair, playing with it, feeling its softness and how silky it is. he groans, keeping his arms crossed as your fingers got closer to his nape.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you don't know how you got to this point... with your hands trailing down ryu's wide back. wet sounds of your lips intertwining, along with your legs wrapped around his clothed body. you both stop the kiss, leaving only you breathless. he looks at you with the same unchanging expression, though you could feel a slight change in his demeanor. his skin was tinted with a slight pink, and desire burned in his eyes. "nobody's supposed to come back for at least another 30 minutes right?" you ask, trying to catch your breath.

he hums in response. you don't continue the conversation, since you hope that your actions will be enough to speak for themselves. your hands move to his chest, slithering down slowly to the hem of his pants and tugging at it lightly. he frowns, his eyes squinting for a brief moment along with a groan. you look down, seeing something strained against the once loose cloth, you try to keep your composure as you look back up at him. "seems like your body wants more too..."

"does it now?" he replies with an impatient tone. the alcohol ran through your veins, though ryu was almost completely sober—aside from his amazing alcohol tolerance, he barely drank from the bottle. "i want to see what type of person you are first in this type of situation..." you smiled, pushing him a bit to hop off the ledge. "do you want these lips first?" you ask, your index resting on top of your soft lips. his eyes follow, now looking at your lips then back at your eyes, "do whatever, as long as we get to the end of this..." he says somehow arrogantly, but you can see that he does want it, and more.

you let out a small, quick chuckle, getting on your knees as you untied the small cloth belt keeping his pants up, and slowly inching only the front down, making him groan and resting his onto hand on your head. you finally pull it down just enough to have his cock free, and his size casts a shadow upon your face, leaving you in awe. he looks down at you, seeing his dick almost outsizing the length of your face, he lets out a low laugh. you start to lick the body slowly, to the tip. from this specific angle, it looks even bigger.

you ignored it, as you slowly took him in, first the tip entered your mouth, earning you a husky moan from him. moving even further, he grips onto your hair and you hold onto his hips for stability as you finally take in his entire length. but you feel yourself gagging, "don't stop now." he muttered, you can tell he was aching for movement even though he didn't want to move to make you uncomfortable. you look up at him and continue.

you set a pace, starting off slow as you took it in out of your mouth, making him grit on his teeth. you hear whispers of profanity escape his lips as you started to pick up the speed, "that's it..." he chants, looking down at you as you take in his full size, and even though it hits the back of your throat and filling up your mouth, the pleasure definitely compensates for it. his moans and the lewd sounds of his progressively get louder, "oh god... i'm getting close. just- just like that..." he throws his head back, now using his hands to force your head onto his cock faster.

your throat struggles to keep up, making you gag audibly as he quickly gets faster. his hips tremble, "fuck, i'm cumming-!" he hisses, pulling out just at the right time to cum on your lips instead. you smile, looking up at him as you somehow succeeded to change his expression. his chest now rising and falling as he smiles down at you, "we're not done yet."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you now find yourself placed back on the ledge, with his body in between your legs, and his dick eagerly waiting at your entrance. his arms traps you in between them as he leans in, his mouth breathing against your ear, "are you ready?" he whispers as you feel his cock twitch against you, you hum in response. and he wastes no time, he positions himself against your pussy and slowly entering as a quiet groan leaves his lips and entering your ears like smooth butter.

you whine, feeling his cock filling you up. you never thought sex could feel this good—well you only ever had a few other experiences to compare it to—even then, this is heaven. he slowly starts to thrust in and out of you, and you secure yourself onto him by wrapping your legs back around him. his pace slowly starts to quicken, making you roll your head and eyes back, feeling it hit all your right spots. you feel a knot quickly form in your gut, and each thrust only made it tighter, and tighter.

"you're doing so well taking me." he praises, now holding your hips stable and your arms find comfort around his neck, as he pulls and pushes you toward him to match his rhythm—and this does not help your failing case. he's somehow hitting your insides even deeper now, making your throat and body emit the dirtiest noises. your voice echoes through the large room, along with the sloppy, wet noises of your skin slapping against eachother. "does it feel that good?" he smiles with a tinge of cockiness as he steadily keeps the pace.

he completely hugs you know, his arms engulfing as he moves his face onto the crook of your neck, "are you close?" he questions, quickly followed by your walls clenching around him, "i'll take that as a yes, so am i." he responds to himself as he leaves small, soft kisses on the tender skin of your neck. his grip on your body tightens as you hear his moans vibrating against your skin, "i'm so close... so close–" he mumbles when his speed peaks, you feel his fingers firmly pressing against your back.

you whimper, feeling your legs grow weaker, and feeling the knot inside you get closer to snapping. "fuck- i'm- i'm cumming-!" he takes one hand, taking himself out of you. you cry out, your legs trembling as you feel the knot finally snap along with his panting as you feel hot liquid spill onto your stomach.

and i, thank you. i finished this at 10 pm and speed read it and its not the best so... 😭