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harknessxo · 4 months ago

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Professor Harkness

Paring: Darkish!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha is a very attractive but strict Professor in your College. You somehow manage to keep up with her without seducing her like many students tried but failed to, which makes her take an interest in you.

Warnings; spanking, fingering, cunnilingus, professor kink?

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: Haven’t posted in quite a bit, my bad!!! This is lowkey ass but I hope you like it!

This was your first year of college. You lived in Eastview most of your life but chose to go to Westview college when you got a full ride scholarship. It was scary at first, moving away from home, away from your parents but you got a new start.

As you got comfortable in your new environment, you had asked around about your teachers to know what to expect from them and everyone told you they were chill except for one, Professor Harkness. Many of the people you asked said she was a bitch, was way too strict, acted like she had a stick up her ass but “at least she was hot.” ‘Lucky me,’ you thought. You later figured out you had her once a week on Wednesdays. At least you only had to deal with her one day a week.

Your first day soon approached, your teachers all seemed very easygoing and understanding which only made you more nervous to meet the infamous Professor Harkness. Wednesday rolled around and you woke up nice and early to get ready. You wanted to make a good first impression, well, at least attempt to.

You were the first student to show up to the lecture hall. You took a seat at the very front, you liked to be able to hear everything your teachers said. After about five minutes, more students strolled in, filling up all the seats and finally, in all her glory, she walked in last. They weren’t lying when they said she was hot.

She walked to the front of the room, carrying a stack of papers and a bag. She placed the stack on the podium and began to set up for class. She didn’t bother addressing the class until the bell rang.

“Good morning everyone. I’m Professor Harkness and you will address me as such, no ‘Miss’ or ‘Mrs,’” she picked up the stack she had previously placed on her desk and started passing the papers out, “This is my syllabus. My email and office hours and at the top, if you have any questions, competent questions I mean, feel free to reach out. The first section talks about my deadlines-“ she was suddenly interrupted by a tardy student knocking on the door.

Her expression turned from somewhat welcoming to anger in seconds. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly frustrated by the tardy student, then opened the door.

“Don’t bother coming back to this class.” She stated in a cold tone before shutting the door on the student’s face. She continued on going over her rules and expectations, which were extremely high but nothing you couldn’t handle, like nothing happened.

This was going to be fun.

As the weeks went on, less and less people remained in her class either because they couldn’t handle it or they got kicked out. Many tried to seduce their way to an A but Professor Harkness was not having any of it. You found it embarrassing how the boys tried to flirt with her, sometimes even girls.

She dealt with the various attempts made to seduce her in the most professional ways, or unprofessional too, she didn’t seem to care. She would ignore their comments or straight up insult them, she had no time to deal with idiots.

You found it hot. You might have thought about her treating you just like that once or twice while getting yourself off, but of course you would never admit it or tell anyone. You were too scared to approach her anyway. She would most likely report you if she ever heard that you found her strict and harsh ways “hot”.

She didn’t seem to notice your presence much until she started noticing the efforts you put into her class. She couldn’t remember the last time any of her students were competent enough to reach the bare minimum of her expectations. She was not one to have a soft spot for students yet she found herself paying more attention to you in particular, she found it amusing how serious you were about her class.

You didn’t seem to notice her attraction at all. You didn’t notice the hungry looks or the way she would speak just a bit softer towards you if you raised your hand in class. Well, you did but you thought you were imagining things or that she was just in a good mood. You never actually approached her one on one. You thought she was very intimidating plus you always understood her material and never had to approach her. That was until now.

She had assigned a project and you couldn’t seem to understand a specific part of it so when the class was over and everyone strolled out, you stayed behind.

“Professor Harkness?” You called out nervously. She looked up from her papers and saw you still sitting in the classroom, the rest of the students were gone.

“Ah, Y/n.” She spoke your name, which honestly kinda surprised you. She set down her pen and stood up from her desk, walking over to you and leaned against the edge of the desk.

“You need something?”

“Y-yeah. I don’t mean to be annoying, I know you said if we had any questions, to reach you through email or visit you during office hours but I promise this is quick.” You rambled on, hoping she wouldn’t curse you out like she did other students. To your surprise, she simply nodded for you to go on.

“I can’t seem to understand this part of the project,” you pointed to a specific part of the rubric she gave out, “Could you explain further please?” She leaned over your desk to look at the rubric, her body hovering over yours. She studied the part you were pointing at, taking note of your struggle.

“Ah, I see. That part can be a bit tricky for some,�� she proceeded to explain the section in more depth, her eyes scanning your features as you took in her every word. She made sure you were understanding every word she said, her gaze never leaving your face as she watched your expressions. It was almost addicting how attentive you were.

“Oh okay. That makes so much more sense now, thank you Professor Harkness. I hope it wasn’t a bother.” She smirked at your response, amused by how polite you were.

“It’s no bother at all, Y/n.” She said, straightening up and leaning against the desk again.

“But, since you’re still here…” she turned to a stack of archives on her desk, “Would you be a sweetheart and help me take these to my office?”

“Of course!” you agreed immediately. You took half of the stack while she took the other half and led you to her office. The office was spacious and organized. She had shelves full of books, papers and other things. A large desk was displayed in the middle of the room, along with a comfortable looking couch against the wall and a chair across from it. She gestured to the chair as she set her half of the archives down on her desk.

“Set those down here, please.” You carefully placed the stack on her desk. She walked over to her chair and sat down, watching you set the archives down with a satisfied smile.

“Is there anything else you need, professor?” You asked, sweetly.

“No, that’s all for now. But I have a question for you, Y/n.”

“What is it?” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving yours as she studied your expression.

“You’re one of my best students, if not the best. You’re not like the other idiots who just show up to class and fail every test. You actually care about the material, don’t you?”

“Mhm…” you hummed in response, trying to figure out what she was getting at. She chuckled softly, crossing her legs.

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint me then, would you?”

“O-of course not.” She smirked at your stutter, finding it adorable how nervous you seemed.

“Good. You may go now. Have a good day, hon.” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name.

“H-have a good day, professor.” She watched as you left her office, a smirk still on her face. She couldn’t help but think about how cute you were when you blushed like that.

—

As the semester went on, Agatha tested you. She would give you material that was harder than the rest to see how you would do and you always came out on top. Rarely did you ever ask for help, nine times out of ten you could handle yourself. She was proud of you but she felt the need to punish you for something. To make you submit to her in a way, so when midterms began and you took her exam, she failed you on purpose.

When you got your grade back, you were stunned. You had studied your ass off night after night to prepare for it and you still somehow failed. This could potentially jeopardize your scholarship and not only that but you let down Agatha. You desperately needed her approval for some reason and you knew she would most likely not give you a chance to retake it but you chose to test your luck.

“Professor Harkness?” You said meekly as you strode into her office. It was six in the afternoon so mostly everyone had already gone home except for her apparently even though it was way past her office hours. She looked up from her desk, a small smirk on her face when she saw you. It was like she was expecting you.

“Yes, Y/n? Come in, close the door behind you.” You did as she asked.

“I um…I wanted to talk about my test score. I know you’re not one to give second chances but I really need to retake it. I studied so hard for it and this could put my scholarship at risk.” You pleaded with her. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms and looking at you with a cold expression.

“I was so disappointed when I graded your test, Y/n,” she stood up from her chair and walked around to the other side of the desk where you were, “But the fact is that you failed. I can’t just give you a second chance. It’s unfair to the other students who work just as hard as you.” Her words hurt you to your core. You let your favorite teacher down and now she was disappointed in you.

“Please, professor! I’ll do anything! I want to make you proud again.” You pleaded, desperately needing her approval. She stepped closer to you, standing in front of you now. She tilted your chin up with her fingers, making you look at her.

“Anything, huh?”

“Y-yes…” She smirked again, looking into your eyes and noticing the desperation in them. She could see how much you needed her approval, it was like you were addicted to it.

“I think there’s a way you can make it up to me…”

“Tell me…please?” You leaned further into her touch. She chuckled at your eagerness, running her thumb across your lower lip as she looked down at you.

“It’s going to be quite the task, darling. Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Anything just- please? I’ll be a good girl.” You almost sobbed. She shushed you, pulling you closer by your chin.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re already such a good girl. So eager to please…I can’t wait to see how well you can do this for me.” She pressed her lips against yours and you let her. You let her take control and so as she pleased.

She explored every inch of your mouth and moved her hand to grip at the nape of your neck. She roughly pulled your head back with a grin plastered on her face. In one quick motion, she manhandled you to bend over her desk. A pathetic moan left your lips when she did so.

She chuckled darkly at the sound, enjoying the way you bent over for her. She pushed everything off her desk with one arm, making a loud thud as it all fell to the floor.

“You want to be a good girl for me don’t you?” you nodded your head, “Then you will take this punishment for me and if you do good, I will change your grade on your test, is that a deal?”

“D-deal.” She smirked and moved her hand from your neck to your back, gently running her hand down your spine. She then pulled your hips back, pressing them against her.

“Good girl…” She lifted the hem of the skirt you were wearing and admired the lacy purple panties you had chosen to wear. Her eyes darkened as she ran her fingers over the lace.

Sometimes, when you would start daydreaming in class while staring at her beauty, you noticed she would always wear something purple. You guessed it was her favorite color and therefore wore purple panties. Of course, you didn’t expect for things to turn out this way but good thing you did.

She was quite pleased with your choice. It was almost like you were a perfect little doll for her, a toy to play with and do as she pleased. She knew you would submit to her easily and it was going to be so much fun breaking you in.

“Look at you, already being a tease for me even before I’ve begun. You look so pretty in my color, honey.” You blushed at her compliment and gasped when she started sliding the fabric off until it reached your ankles, leaving you completely bare before her.

She ran her hands up your bare thighs and ass, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. She admired the way your body reacted to her every touch, she loved how easily she could rile you up.

“I’m going to give you ten spankings and you’re going to take them like a good girl, right?”

“Yes, professor…” you whimpered. She hummed in approval, her hands still roaming your thighs. She leaned down and whispered in your ear, her breath hot against your skin.

“Stay nice and still for me. If you move too much, I’ll have to punish you even more. Understood?”

“Understood.” She smiled at your obedience and straightened up. She raised her hand and brought it down on your right cheek, leaving a red handprint behind.

“Count them for me, darling.”

“One…” She hummed again, satisfied with your response. She continued her onslaught of smacks, each one harder than the last. By the time she reached ten, your skin was red and sensitive, stinging from her touch. Tears had managed to escape your eyes and your breathing was ragged.

She rubbed her hands over your stinging cheeks, admiring her handiwork. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lower back, her lips gently brushing against your skin.

“You did so well, darling. You took your punishment so well for me…such a good girl.”

“T-thank you, professor…” you sniffled. She smiled against your skin, her hands still rubbing soothing circles into your flesh.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. Maybe I should reward you…” You felt your own arousal pool down your thighs at the thought of what kind of reward she meant.

“A r-reward?” She chuckled as she noticed the way you were reacting, noticing the way you got wet at the mere thought of a reward.

“Mhm…you look like you really want one, honey.”

“P-please? I’ve been so good!”

“I know you have, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good little toy for me…” She hummed in agreement, her hands slowly moving from your ass to your folds, dipping her fingers in your wetness. You shuddered at her touch, moaning as she spread your juices all over your lips. She smirked at the sound of your moans, enjoying the way your body reacted to her every touch. She circled your clit with her thumb, teasing you as she spoke.

“Look at you, so desperate and needy. You really do want a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I need it!” She chuckled darkly, continuing to toy with your sensitive bundle of nerves as she spoke. She leaned closer to your ear, her voice a low whisper.

“Yeah? You need it? You need your professor to fuck you senseless?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Her smirk widened at your desperate pleas.

“Such a good girl…” She removed her hand from your cunt, bringing it up to your lips.

“Open your mouth.” You opened your mouth almost immediately, allowing her to slide her arousal coated fingers inside. She pushed her fingers into your mouth, her eyes darkening as she watched you suck on them.

“That’s it, pet. Taste yourself for me…” She pulled them out slowly, a string of saliva connecting them to your lips. She then roughly pulled your head back by your hair and crashed her lips against yours. You moaned shamelessly against her lips. She kissed you passionately, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth again as she held you in place all while tasting you as well.

“You taste sweeter than I imagined.” That made you even wetter. The fact that she’d been thinking about you as much as you made you feel warm inside.

She could tell that you were getting even more turned on by her words, and she loved it. She knew just how to push your buttons and make you squirm for her. She pulled away from the kiss, a grin on her face as she looked at you with hungry eyes.

“You’re so responsive, darling. It’s adorable.” You gasped loudly when she slipped her fingers inside you without warning, thrusting them in and out without letting you adjust. She chuckled at your reaction, enjoying the way you gasped and moaned for her. She started to pump her fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well. You’re so tight, sweetheart…”

“Thank- thank you!” you stuttered out, overwhelmed with pleasure. She hummed in amusement, enjoying the way you were struggling to form coherent sentences.

“Such a polite little toy…I love how easily you unravel under me…”

“Only- fuck- only for you, professor!” She smiled, her fingers continuing to move inside you at a relentless pace. She leaned down and began kissing and biting your neck, leaving marks all over your skin.

“That’s right, only for me. You belong to me, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes! I belong to you!” You panted out. She let out a low growl against your neck, her possessive nature coming out.

“Good girl…now cum for me. Cum for your professor…” her mouth soon joined her finger, sucking mercilessly at your clit, sending you over the edge. You had to bite down on your hand to withhold the loud moan that almost left your lips as you came. Mostly everyone was gone but there were still janitors and such. You didn’t want to get caught.

She kept her mouth on you, helping you ride out your orgasm. She smirked against your skin, amused by your attempts to be quiet.

“Oh, pet…you’re trying so hard to be quiet, but I can see how much you’re struggling.”

“It felt so- so good…” you muttered, tiredly. She pulled her fingers out of you and licked them clean, looking at you with a satisfied expression.

“I know, hon. You did so well for me…” she reached down and pulled your panties back up. She gently patted your thigh once your panties were back in place, her eyes raking over your body with a possessive gleam.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up. We can’t have you walking around with cum on your thighs, can we?”

“Mhmm…” you hummed, too fucked out to form real words. She chuckled and picked you up, carrying you bridal style towards the bathroom in her office.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this, all dazed and fucked out.” She placed you on the sink countertop and used a wet cloth to wipe down your inner thighs. She was gentle as she cleaned you up, making sure to remove any evidence of your encounter. She smirked as she looked at your face, noticing how you were still coming down from your high.

“There we go, all clean and presentable again.”

“Are you changing my test grade?” You asked shyly. She chuckled and shook her head, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to look at her.

“Well, of course. We made a deal and you even got a reward out of it. Now, run along. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression.”

“Yes, ma’am.” you hopped off the counter and almost ran out of her office. Did that really just happen? Did you let your professor fuck you senseless? God, you were a mess.

She watched you leave, a satisfied smirk on her face. She chuckled to herself as she sat down at her desk, picking up a pen and grading papers as if nothing had happened.

“See you in class, pet.”

Taglist; @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover @oh-no-bummer @phixiesworld @eliscannotdance @venomhimbo @aka-patsy @scoliobean @chlondykebar @marvelwomenarehot0 @mgruiz @daenerys713

#fanfic #smut #agatha harkness #x reader #agatha all along #request #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #dark!agatha

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allisonlol · 2 years ago

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chuuya dazai and fyodor when reader tries to remove the hickies they gave reader the next day OHKYIGOAHSS

a/n: hiii everyone i have crawled out of my void to offer you this post !! ty to the anon who came up with this wonderful idea. i've missed posting omg and we somehow are so close to 3k despite my inactivity??? slay. shall open reqs again once we get there mwehehe

warnings: slight nsfw

(Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor) When You Try to Remove Hickeys

Chuuya

he's gonna be the most chill about this tbh

it's your body and if you don't want ppl seeing that on you then that's ur choice!!

however

hiding them is one thing, but that doesn't mean he wants to see you removing them

so yknow that hack where you take a whisk and like,,,twist it over the mark to get rid of it?

yeah so you tried that...and it was actually working until chuuya barged into the room and demanded to know what you were doing

bro is not happy to see the hickies he'd proudly left on you last night being somehow removed by a WHISK

grabs that mf thing and throws it across the room

chuuya's not angry at you, more so frustrated and insecure?? cuz like why would u wanna get rid of them

he's lowkey gonna start pouting tbh. won't say anything else but will glare & give u silent treatment

won't stop until you admit the only reason u removed them is because it was too visible with your work uniform and u didn't want everyone staring smh

insist that he should give you more in areas that people won't see and there's no guarantee y'all won't be late to work <3

Dazai

oh lord

so dazai really loves to mark you up

and last night was no different. your neck was black and blue with hickies

deadass to the point where you nearly had a heart attack when you saw it in the morning

"how am i gonna go to work like this?!" you practically sob to him while he LAUGHS

his only advice is "then don't go" as if both of y'all don't need to have ur asses at the agency in 20 minutes

you check ur phone for the time and when u see this you panic and sprint to your shared bedroom

you try everything you can think of to cover them

first you hastily layer concealer on your neck, to no avail as the marks were too dark

then digging through ur closet for clothes with a high enough neckline to hide it, to which you found none

whole time dazai is leaning against the doorframe, watching ur meltdown with an amused expression

he approaches and helps u up from the floor where u had collapsed with all the clothes strewn around you ☹️

"allow me to pick out something for you to wear" ….oh god

u guys are beyond late at this point so you sigh and accept defeat, to which dazai picks a shirt that of course displays all the marks on your neck

you got lots of stares that day to say the least

Fyodor

surprisingly fyodor doesn't usually leave too many marks on you to begin with

he's got that old fashioned take where it's like "other people don't need to see that and be in our business" if u know what i mean

however, he is also a very possessive man

^so when he gets worked up and does leave hickeys on you, the last thing he wants to see is you trying to hide or remove them

which is exactly what he walked in on u doing today

you were trying the good old "rub an ice cube on it" hack before u had to work

now this mf thinks you have some hidden agenda as to why you wanted them gone

"are you seeing someone else" 💀💀

PLS u didn't realize he had been watching from the doorway and this scares u so bad u drop the ice cube down ur shirt

u start frantically trying to get it out of ur shirt while yelling at him like "i have to work, wtf are u talking about???"

u immediately stop tho when he storms up to u and grabs your face to make you look at him

his face is so cold and unreadable omg it's scary

his eyes shift to the marks on your neck as he traces over them with his fingers

"leave these alone" he says lowly, then adjusts the collar of your shirt so they are partially covered

neither of u will say anything more about it after that, but fyodor sends sigma to secretly follow u to work to make sure that's where ur really going 😓

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato��@serenareiss @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @mianqo

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mikasa-imadebiscults · 3 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do hashira with an extremely tall s/o, who is additionally mean & scary looking but literally the sweetest person ever. No rush(if you do it) Thankyouu! ^^

(Hello hello Anon! I hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this. This is mainly like how you met/how the Hashira first impression of you so I hope that’s okay. Have a great day/night!)

Unexpected Softy

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: GN! Reader, fluff, and some swearing)

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- She first met you in her infirmary, you were injured in a fight fairly badly so you were in a vulnerable position. Due to the condition you were in she had to keep a very close eye on you, to ensure your safety. She saw it all by now in the Demon Slayer Corps after all, so your intimating looks didn’t faze her.

- She does find it adorable that you look all tough on the outside but is actually a big softy. She teases you about it all the time, she just can’t help herself.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- Was shocked at first about how sweet you were compared to your appearance. He thinks it’s a nice contrast though, it’s one of the things he likes about you the most.

- He ended up growing fond of you very quickly. It was a strange feeling for him at first, considering kindness in his world is hard to come by. Even so, you continued to be so nice and eventually he got used to the new feeling.

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- Was lowkey a tiny bit scared of you at first but still thought that you looked cool. She wanted to get to know you but didn’t know how exactly to approach you. So one day when she was having a snack, she saw you and offered you some. Once she realizes how nice you are, that fear completely dissipates in an instant.

- One of the many things she loves about you is that you’re taller than her, more of you to hug (koala style or one of those bone-crushing hugs)

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- Not afraid of you at all, in fact he approaches you first. You two got along really well, especially with both of your kind spirits. Even some of the people who were terrified of you saw you two being so friendly and got over their fears.

- If he sees other slayers nearby visibly shaking in their boots because of you, he’ll kindly introduce them to you and tell them that there’s nothing to be afraid of. He will also say how kind you are and to never judge a book by its cover.

🔊Tengen Uzui🔊

- He’s another one who talks to you first. He likes your vibe. He definitely helps boost your confidence, the compliments he gives you and how he hypes you up is enough to make your confidence skyrocket.

- When you meet his wives, they get comfortable with you fast due to your kind nature. Even though Suma is a bit afraid of you, she enjoys your company and eventually warms up to you.

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- Didn’t think much about you at first. I mean demons look scarier than you, some of them at least. Then fast forward to when you two started dating, he began to notice how others looked/acted towards you. He questioned it to himself but didn’t say anything as long as no one messed with you.

- Your kindness rubs off on him a bit the more you two hang out together. The other Hashira even notices the change.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- At first he mistook your tough demeanor as you thinking that you’re better than everyone and that made him angry. He didn’t say anything though, but that was until one day you accidentally bumped into him. He got pissed thinking that you did it on purpose and started yelling at you, accusing you of thinking that you’re superior to everyone.

- Once he was finished ranting, you cleared things up telling him that none of that was true. Fast forward months later when you started dating, that first confrontation became a inside joke between you two (he kinda feels bad about it, he makes it up to you tho)

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- He can relate to you, after all, being a Hashira he also knows what it feels like to have people be afraid of you. When you first spoke to him, he was pleasantly surprised by your kindness. It makes a small smile appear on his normally blank face.

- Does make a mental note to compliment your appearance and tough exterior often when you’re dating. Just in case your brain decides to mess with you one day and tries to make another insecurity.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- Doesn’t notice your “scary” looks because, well, he’s blind. Though he does however notice the way people act around you and the tension that arises in the air whenever you come along. He doesn’t understand at first until he asks the frightened people what’s wrong.

- Of course the terrified slayers just said it was nothing and scurried off. He was even more confused. Until you came up to him and explained that they were most likely scared of you. You said it like it was nothing because you were used to it by now. Gyomei nodded in understanding, he knows how you feel and offers some words of encouragement.

Masterlist

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lupinqs · 7 months ago

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SAFE AND SOUND (1/3) ━━ pazzi

☆ ━ summary: in which azzi fudd forms an unexpected alliance with paige bueckers as they fight for survival in the hunger games.

☆ ━ word count: 10.1K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing yet really, should all be in the next chapter lol

☆ ━ links: part two, part three, my masterlist, ao3 link

☆ ━ author’s note: if i had a nickel for every time i wrote one of my ships going to the hunger games together, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice 🧐 obviously this is a hunger games au so if you haven’t read the book or seen the movie or are not familiar with the premise, i don’t know how well you’ll be able to understand. alsoooo this part is lowkey very much buildup and not actual pazzi just mostly azzi; it was meant to be one whole part but it would’ve been too damn long so i split it!

“AZZI FUDD.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, everything stops. The world around her seems to freeze in time. Lucia Bliss, the escort from District Nine, says the name with a certain flair, her voice high-pitched and breathy, as if this is a celebration instead of a death sentence. Lucia’s purple hair gleams under the harsh midday sun, her too-bright smile a sick contrast to the crowd’s silence.

Azzi stands rooted to the ground. Her heart slams in her chest, and her vision narrows as shock seeps through her bones. She can’t move, can’t breathe. Her body is disconnected from her mind, numbness spreading through her limbs. She vaguely registers the weight of the stares from the girls around her—some wide-eyed with horror, others carefully blank. Azzi blinks. Is this real? She swallows hard, but her throat feels like sandpaper.

She never let herself think about this. Never allowed the possibility to take root. She spent the whole week worrying about her little brothers, Jon and Jose, her anxiety circling around them like a storm cloud. Jose, especially. It’s his first Reaping, and he’d been so scared he couldn’t sleep the night before. Azzi had promised him it’d be okay, that the odds were in their favor. She’d lied. And now it’s her name that hangs in the air.

Her legs feel heavy, like they’ve been weighed down with stones, but somehow, she forces them to move. One step. Then another. Each movement is stiff, mechanical, her body obeying while her mind is still reeling. The faces in the crowd blur into a mass of pale colors, and Azzi avoids looking at any of them directly. The sun presses down on her back, making her skin feel tight, suffocating, but she barely registers it. Her heartbeat thuds in her ears, a dull roar that drowns out everything else.

I have to do this. She repeats it in her head, over and over, as if it will numb the panic creeping up her spine. I have to get up there.

The platform is higher than it looks. It looms above her as she approaches, and the closer she gets, the more she feels the weight of the district watching her. Her hands tremble at her sides, but she keeps them balled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She can’t afford to show fear. Not now.

She steps onto the stage, the wooden floor creaking beneath her shoes. Lucia Bliss beams at her, all synthetic kindness and hollow enthusiasm, like she’s completely oblivious to the fact that she’s sending a sixteen-year-old girl to her death. Azzi wants to scream, to shout at her, to demand to know how she can smile like that. Instead, she stands there, stiff as a board, staring blankly into the crowd.

She doesn’t look at her family. Not yet. If she lets herself see them—really see them—she knows she’ll fall apart. And she can’t afford to break down, not in front of everyone. Not here. The numbness is the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

“Now, for the boys!” Lucia announces, with that same bright cheeriness, like this is all just a grand spectacle and not a nightmare come to life.

The second name is pulled, and Azzi barely registers the sound of the boy’s name. “Kellan Ryder.”

Her eyes catch a glimpse of him as he stumbles forward—a scrawny boy with messy red hair and too-thin arms. He looks no older than fourteen, maybe fifteen at most. His face is pale, his mouth set in a tight line as he walks toward the platform like a condemned man heading to the gallows. There’s no strength in him, no fire. He’s shaking like a leaf, and Azzi knows his fate immediately. Anyone with a brain should. He won’t make it.

Kellan’s knees wobble as he climbs onto the platform, nearly tripping on the last step. His frightened eyes dart around, but when they meet Azzi’s for a fleeting moment, she sees it—the absolute terror, the resignation that’s already settled in him. He knows he’s dead. And now, she’s tethered to him.

Lucia claps her hands together, looking as if she expects the crowd to erupt into applause, but no one moves. District Nine never claps at the Reaping. There’s nothing to celebrate here.

Azzi’s jaw tightens, her hands still clenched at her sides. What now? What happens next? She can’t feel anything except a dull, creeping fear gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. It’s been less than five minutes since her name was called, but it feels like an eternity has passed. She feels lost, unmoored, floating in a space where time no longer makes sense.

As the anthem blares across the square, she chances a glance into the crowd—just for a second. Her gaze locks onto her family. Her mom is there, her face pale but strong. Azzi’s dad stands right next to her, an arm around her waist. They wear the same firm expressions—like they may actually believe their daughter can make it through this. Azzi can’t find Jon and Jose—they’re somewhere within the rest of the relieved crowd of boys who have been spared this year.

Lucia is speaking again, but Azzi barely hears her. The words are muffled, distant, as she’s ushered off the stage and into the cold interior of the Justice Building. Her chest feels tight, her throat burning from holding back everything that’s clawing at her insides, threatening to break free. She can’t let them see her cry.

Inside the Justice Building, it’s quieter, but the silence only makes her pulse race faster. She’s taken to a small room to wait. The goodbyes. They give her only a few minutes with her family before she’s whisked away forever.

Her mother is the first to come in, and the second the door closes behind her, the stoic mask she’s been holding up crumbles. She rushes forward and pulls Azzi into a bone-crushing hug. Katie Fudd does not shed any tears, but Azzi can feel her shaking against her shoulder. Trembling, but trying to fight it.

“You’re going to come back,” her mother says firmly, as if she’s manifesting it into existence. And then, more choked: “Please, Azzi. You have to come back.”

Azzi stands stiffly for a moment, then wraps her arms around her mother. She wants to promise that she’ll come back, that she’ll survive, but the words stick in her throat. How can she make a promise like that when she doesn’t know if she can keep it?

“I’ll try,” Azzi says instead, her voice hollow. I’ll try. It’s all she can offer.

Her brothers come in next, Jon leading Jose. The second Jose sees her, he runs to her, clinging to her waist like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. His face is streaked with tears, his breath coming in ragged sobs.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Jose’s voice is small, broken. Azzi’s reminded that he’s only twelve. “You have to come back.”

Azzi pulls away slightly, brushing the hair out of his face. “I’ll do my best,” she whispers, her voice trembling. She can’t say anything more than that. She wishes she could lie, give him something more hopeful, but the truth is all she has.

Jon is much quieter, and he stands back, his face hard as stone. But his eyes—his eyes are full of pain, full of everything he’s trying not to feel. When he finally steps forward, he pulls her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear, “Please try to come home.”

Azzi nods, her throat too tight to respond.

And then it’s her dad that gets her last, his arms wrapping around her softer, less firm. He rubs a hand along her back, rests his chin on top of her head. It makes Azzi want to cry. But she doesn’t. She keeps the tears in. Tim tells her, “Be smart. Don’t trust anyone.” And then he pulls away, meeting her gaze. His eyes aren’t sad, they don’t memorize the lines of her face as if this is likely the last time they’ll ever see each other. Instead, they’re firm, a fire burning in them, a fire that believes Azzi has enough spark in her to win. “You’re strong, Az. You find what you’re good at, and you stick to it. Just like shooting.”

Azzi nods, though his words don’t truly reach her. She’s good at basketball—great, even. The best shooter in her district. But the Hunger Games isn’t basketball. It’s entirely different.

The goodbye is over too quickly, the Peacekeepers ushering her family out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. As the door closes behind them, the reality of the situation hits her with full force. This is happening. This is real. There’s no way out of it. In just a few days, she’ll be in the arena, and all that will matter is survival.

Azzi takes a deep breath, her hands trembling. She has to survive. For her family. For her mom. For her dad. For Jon and Jose. I have to win.

But as the cold emptiness settles into her chest, she knows it’s not going to be that simple. Not even close.

THE ROOM in the Capitol’s Remake Center is pristine and clinical—too clean, in fact. The walls are bright white, and the overhead lights are too harsh, casting everything in an almost sterile glow. The faint hum of machinery buzzes in the background, and Azzi sits stiffly on the plush chair in the center of the room, her back straight and hands clenched in her lap. She can feel the cold, unfamiliar air of the Capitol against her skin, a far cry from the familiar, earthy smells of District Nine. The whole place feels wrong.

Azzi’s mind is still spinning from the events of the past day, from the Reaping to the train ride to the Capitol. Everything feels like a blur—one unending nightmare she can’t escape from. The vibrant, colorful city that’s supposed to be awe-inspiring feels nothing more than a glittering cage, trapping her in a world that doesn’t belong to her.

A knock at the door startles her from her thoughts, and she straightens, her heart thudding a little harder in her chest. The door opens, and in walks a tall, slender woman with dark, shimmering hair cut into a sleek bob. Her skin is flawless, glowing in the artificial light, and she’s dressed in an outfit that’s both futuristic and elegant, all smooth lines and shimmering fabric.

She strides into the room with the kind of confidence Azzi has only ever seen in Capitol citizens, her heels clicking against the floor. When she reaches Azzi, she extends a perfectly manicured hand and offers a soft, warm smile.

“Hello, Azzi. I’m Seraphine,” she says, her voice gentle, as though she knows how jarring this experience must be. “I’ll be your stylist for the Games.”

Azzi stares at Seraphine’s hand for a second too long before realizing she’s supposed to shake it. Her fingers feel cold as she grips the stylist’s hand briefly, then pulls away, her eyes flickering nervously to the floor. She hasn’t said a word since entering the Remake Center, and even now, her throat feels tight, like it’s closed off from the weight of everything around her.

Seraphine seems to notice Azzi’s discomfort and doesn’t push her to speak. Instead, she walks around the chair, studying Azzi with a critical yet kind eye, taking in her features as if she’s a sculpture being examined for the first time.

“You’ve got very strong features,” Seraphine says, her voice soft as she moves to stand in front of Azzi. She lifts a hand, her finger tracing the air just in front of Azzi’s face as if imagining her canvas. “A really beautiful face. Great symmetry. Your nose is perfect—straight, but with just a little softness at the tip. And your lips,” she smiles, “plump and well-shaped, the kind people pay for here in the Capitol.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to say. She swallows hard and forces out a quiet, “Thank you.”

But the words feel hollow in her mouth. Two days ago, she probably would’ve flushed at the compliment and grinned at the woman before her. But it doesn’t matter now. Being beautiful won’t keep her alive. It won’t stop a sword or a spear. It won’t protect her when she’s standing in the arena, staring down a tribute who wants her dead. She doesn’t care about her looks. She cares about surviving.

Seraphine seems to sense the tension in her, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she steps back and claps her hands together, her expression shifting into something more professional. “Well, we’ve got a lot to do before the Opening Ceremony tonight. The tributes from District Nine usually get an agricultural theme, but we’re going to make sure you stand out. You’ll need something that catches the eye, something that makes people remember you. The Capitol loves a good first impression.”

Azzi tries to focus on what Seraphine is saying, but her mind keeps drifting, her thoughts pulling her back to District Nine, to the faces of her brothers, her parents, their small home nestled in the farthest corner of the district. She feels like she’s been dropped into an alien world, surrounded by people who don’t understand what it means to fight for survival. Here, everything is about image—how you look, how you present yourself. But in the Games, none of that matters. At least, not to Azzi.

Seraphine motions for Azzi to stand, and she does so stiffly, her muscles aching from sitting so rigidly for so long. The stylist begins to circle her, appraising her figure and murmuring to herself. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Seraphine snaps her fingers, and a team of assistants rushes in, carrying bolts of fabric and strange devices Azzi doesn’t recognize.

Seraphine smiles softly, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s shoulder. “We’re going to make you look incredible. Trust me, Azzi. I’ve been doing this for years.”

Azzi doesn’t respond. She lets the team of assistants work on her, trying not to flinch as they run strange tools across her skin, smoothing it, shaping it. They tug at her hair, pulling it back tightly from her face, and apply makeup to her cheeks and eyes. She’s never worn anything like this before, and the sensation of it all feels foreign, uncomfortable. The air smells heavily of perfume and hair products, nothing like the open fields and fresh earth of her home.

Seraphine watches closely, making small adjustments as the assistants work. “We’ll keep it simple but striking,” she says as she examines the fabrics. “District Nine is about agriculture, the backbone of Panem’s food production. So we’ll lean into that, but in a way that makes you look powerful. Strong. Like someone the Capitol will want to root for.”

Azzi barely nods, her mind half-absent.

The assistants pull out a long, flowing piece of fabric, the color a rich golden hue that shimmers in the light. It’s embroidered with intricate patterns, resembling the fields of grain District Nine is known for. The material clings to her body, forming into a fitted jumpsuit that accentuates her athletic build. The design is sleek and modern, with a slight flare at the shoulders, giving her the appearance of strength, while the fabric flows behind her like a cape made of golden wheat.

Seraphine steps back, admiring the final look, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “You look incredible, Azzi. Absolutely stunning. This will make the audience remember you—beautiful, but more importantly, formidable.”

Azzi stares at herself in the mirror, her reflection almost unrecognizable. The girl looking back at her is a Capitol version of herself, someone polished and made to look like she belongs here. But Azzi can see right through it. She doesn’t belong here.

“How do you feel?” Seraphine asks, stepping up beside her.

Azzi hesitates, her eyes lingering on her reflection. She looks strong, she looks like someone people might fear. But the question gnaws at her, the same thought that’s been looping in her head since she arrived at the Capitol.

“Being beautiful won’t help me in the arena,” she says quietly, her voice low, as if the thought escapes her without permission.

Seraphine’s expression softens, and she places a hand gently on Azzi’s shoulder. “It’s not just about beauty. It’s about presence. The Capitol citizens, the sponsors—they want someone they can believe in. If they believe in you, they’ll help you. They’ll send you things you need. And that could be the difference between life and death.”

Azzi doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s never thought about it that way—never considered that people watching her might care enough to help. She doesn’t know if she likes that idea, though. It feels too distant, too detached. How can she trust that some faceless audience in the Capitol will care enough to keep her alive?

But she nods anyway, her jaw tight as she looks back at her reflection. “I guess.”

Seraphine gives her a reassuring smile, but Azzi can see the flicker of something else in the stylist’s eyes. Maybe a recognition of the bleakness that comes with the Games. Or maybe just sympathy. Either way, it doesn’t change the reality.

And then Seraphine is clapping her hands again, signaling the rush of assistants and stylists bustling back into the room. They tidy up the last few details, adjusting the cape of shimmering gold fabric that flows behind Azzi, smoothing out any wrinkles in the intricate embroidery of her jumpsuit. The noise, the movement, all of it feels overwhelming, but Seraphine stays calm and poised, giving Azzi a reassuring smile before gesturing toward the door.

“Come, Azzi. We need to head downstairs. Your chariot awaits,” Seraphine says.

Azzi’s legs feel unsteady as she follows her stylist. There’s a gnawing anxiety low in her stomach, a knot that’s only been growing tighter since her name was pulled. She walks behind Seraphine, out of the room and down a long, marble hallway that echoes with the click of the stylist’s heels. The air feels heavier here, the anticipation hanging thick in the space around them as they make their way to the first floor.

The elevator doors open, revealing the Remake Center’s ground floor—a massive, gleaming stable. The smell of horses hits her first, a sharp contrast to the sterile air of the upper floors. The space is wide and open, filled with row after row of chariots, each one assigned to a different district, waiting to carry their tributes into the Opening Ceremony. It’s loud, too, with the sound of people bustling around, prepping the tributes, adjusting the horses’ harnesses, and giving last-minute instructions.

Azzi’s eyes dart around, searching for Kellan, her district partner. She spots him off to the side, standing next to one of the chariots, his eyes wide with fear and his shoulders hunched as if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. He looks terrible, Azzi thinks, her heart twisting in her chest. Kellan is so young—fourteen—the same age as her little brother Jon.

In fact, Kellan could’ve been Jon. Could’ve been Jose. The thought makes her feel sick. He’s just a kid. And now he’s about to be thrown into a fight to the death.

Azzi’s stomach churns as she approaches Kellan, trying to think of something to say, something that might ease his nerves, but nothing comes to mind. What can she say? You’ll be fine? It won’t be that bad? It would be a lie. There’s no comforting truth here.

Lucia is already there, too, flitting around with her usual enthusiasm. Her bright purple wig bounces as she talks, gesturing wildly with her hands. She’s all Capitol—flashy and clueless, too caught up in the spectacle of it all to realize what’s really at stake.

“Ah, Azzi! You look fan-tastic!” Lucia exclaims, clucking her tongue and clapping her hands together. “Seraphine has really outdone herself this year.”

Azzi gives a stiff nod, but her attention is drawn to the figure standing next to Lucia.

Their mentor—Cyrus.

A tall, grizzled man in his mid-forties, Cyrus won the Games when he was seventeen, Azzi knows that. His hair is streaked with silver now, and his face is lined with years of bitterness and loss—an expression she’s come to recognize in former victors. Cyrus isn’t the warmest person, but he knows what it takes to survive, and that’s all that matters to Azzi now.

He steps forward, eyeing her and Kellan critically, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You both look good,” he says, his voice gruff, as if the compliment costs him something. “But this isn’t about just looking good. It’s about making the Capitol love you. You need them on your side, or you’re dead in the water.”

Kellan swallows hard, his eyes darting nervously toward the chariots. Azzi can see his hands trembling slightly at his sides, and again, that pang of guilt hits her. He shouldn’t be here. He’s too young.

So is Azzi. So is every other tribute here.

Cyrus doesn’t seem to notice Kallan’s behavior—or if he does, he doesn’t care. He steps closer, his voice dropping into a low, urgent tone. “When you get out there, you smile. You wave. You make sure they see you, like you’re already a victor. The crowd loves confidence. They love tributes who look like they’ll win, not ones who are scared to death.” His eyes flick to Kellan, lingering for a second too long. “So you both smile. Got it?”

Azzi nods, even though the last thing she wants to do is smile right now. But Cyrus is right. They have to play the game, even here.

She turns her head slightly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment when something—or someone—catches her eye.

Just across the stable, standing next to another chariot with her district partner, is a girl. She’s tall for a girl, like Azzi is, with long blonde hair that’s been braided back into a bun. Her outfit is clearly themed around District Seven—lumber—and it’s made of rich brown leather, like freshly cut wood, with patterns that resemble tree bark. But what stands out most to Azzi isn’t the outfit. It’s her face.

The girl’s features are sharp but soft in all the right places. She has a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and a pair of piercing blue eyes that seem to flicker with something unspoken. She’s pretty—beautiful, even—but not in the overdone, Capitol way. There’s something natural about her beauty, something real.

Azzi’s breath catches in her throat as their eyes meet. For a moment, the noise of the stable fades into the background, and all she can hear is the pounding of her heart in her chest. The girl holds her gaze, her expression unreadable but intense, like she’s studying Azzi just as much as Azzi is studying her.

This girl is another tribute. Another person Azzi might have to kill. But the thought doesn’t stop her from staring a second too long, from letting herself get caught in the girl’s gaze.

It’s only when Cyrus barks something at them that Azzi snaps her head back around, her cheeks flushing as she tries to focus. This isn’t the time for distractions.

She forces her attention back to Cyrus as he continues giving them last-minute instructions. “Smile. Wave. Make them love you. Got it?”

Azzi nods, though her thoughts are still jumbled. She glances at Kellan, who’s biting his lip nervously, his eyes darting around the stable like a rabbit caught in a trap.

And then they’re being ushered toward their chariot. Azzi takes a deep breath, her legs feeling wobbly as she steps onto the platform, Kellan following behind her. The horses, sleek and muscular, are restless in front of them, their hooves clattering against the marble floor. She grips the edge of the chariot tightly, her knuckles turning white.

As the chariots begin to roll out, Azzi takes one more deep breath. She can hear the roar of the crowd growing louder, the excitement building as the tributes are about to make their grand entrance.

The moment they roll into view of the massive audience, the noise is deafening. The Capitol citizens cheer and shout, their brightly colored hair and outrageous outfits blending together into a sea of vibrant chaos. Azzi forces herself to smile, just like instructed, letting her dimples show through as she waves to the crowd, her arm moving mechanically as if on autopilot. She hates it—the way their eyes are all on her, the way they’re watching her as if she’s nothing more than a piece in their twisted game.

She’s never wanted attention like this. The only way she’d ever dreamed of being noticed was by playing basketball, maybe one day making it big enough to play in the Capitol’s professional leagues. But that was a stupid dream—something far out of reach for someone from a District. Even if she won the Games, even if she became a Capitol darling, she’d never be allowed to play. The basketball leagues are for Capitol citizens, not for tributes. Not for people like her.

Azzi keeps smiling, keeps waving, even though every second of it feels wrong. The crowd’s cheers grow louder, their excitement palpable, but Azzi feels nothing. All she can think about is the girl from District Seven—the girl whose eyes she can still feel on her, even now, as the chariots roll forward.

IT’S THE second day of training. Yesterday, Azzi found her strength—throwing knives. It was quick; the dagger was the first weapon she picked up and tried. And it just… worked. It surprised her at first, but as the blades left her hand, spinning in the air before sinking into the target with a solid thud, it felt almost familiar. The motion, the precision, the focus—it all reminds her of shooting a basketball. In her mind, it’s the same concept: aim, release, make the shot. Whether it’s a knife sinking into a dummy or a ball swooshing through a hoop, the goal is the same. And it comforts her in a strange way, turning something deadly into something she’s used to, something she can control.

Now, Azzi stands several feet away from a dummy, gripping a knife, the handle cool against her palm. She lines it up with the target. Her muscles tighten as she flicks her wrist, releasing the dagger. It slices through the air, embedding itself into where the heart of the dummy would be with a satisfying thud. A perfect hit. She lets out a slow breath, allowing a small flicker of satisfaction to cross her face. The trainers don’t miss it either, nodding with approval as they observe her from across the room.

Cyrus, her mentor, has been watching her closely since she got here. And, after Azzi informed him of her successes with the daggers last night and his compliments of her physique, the true muscle she has, it’s been clear he’s placing his bets on Azzi this time around. It seems there’s just no point in trying with Kellan.

As for Kellan, he hasn’t said much of anything since they were whisked away to the Capitol. He’s just a boy, and Azzi has watched the fear in his eyes grow with each passing day. Cyrus has tried to train him, to offer him advice, but Kellan’s barely even listened. It’s as if he’s already given up. Azzi sees it in the way his hands tremble whenever he holds a weapon, the way he flinches during combat drills, and the way he refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. He’s already dead in his mind, and Azzi knows that mentality will get him killed in the arena.

“Focus on yourself,” Cyrus had told her bluntly last night after dinner. “Kellan’s not gonna make it. You need to accept that now.”

Azzi had nodded, the truth of Cyrus’ words sitting like a heavy weight in her chest. She tried talking to Kellan once, offering him a few words of encouragement, but he barely even acknowledged her. After that, she stopped trying. She can’t afford to waste time or energy on someone who’s already checked out. It isn’t like she doesn’t feel guilty—she does—but she has to survive.

She can’t focus on anyone else’s survival but her own.

Today, Cyrus has her focusing on something other than knives. “You’ve got those down,” he’d told her before the session. “Learn how to survive the elements now. Plants, food, water. You need to know what’s safe and what isn’t. Most tributes die from hunger, dehydration—not all of it is blood and guts.”

So Azzi finds herself crouched in front of an information station, its holographic displays showing various plants, fruits, and fungi. She taps the screen, cycling through images of plants she might find in the arena, trying to commit them to memory. Which ones are edible, which ones are poisonous, which ones could be used to heal wounds. It’s not as exciting as knife-throwing, but it’s necessary, and she knows it.

She’s absorbed in her study, staring intently at a particularly nasty-looking mushroom, when she senses someone approaching from the side. Her muscles tense instinctively, and she glances up, prepared to brush off whoever it is—until she sees Paige Bueckers standing next to her.

Paige Bueckers. District Seven. Azzi knows who she is. She’s memorized all the tributes’ names and districts by now—it’s smart to know who she’s up against—but Paige was the first one she committed to memory. Maybe it’s because of the way Paige caught her eye before the opening ceremony, their silent exchange of glances lingering in Azzi’s mind longer than she’d like to admit. Or maybe it’s because she’s watched Paige train over the past two days and realized just how dangerous the girl really is. Azzi saw her with a sword earlier, moving with a deadly grace that sent chills down her spine. Paige might be one of the most skilled tributes here, and that’s saying something.

Paige is tall, even a little taller than Azzi, and her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a thin, black headband resting over it. Her sharp, blue eyes meet Azzi’s as she stops next to her, wearing a grin that seems completely out of place in the tense, competitive atmosphere of the training center.

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige says, her tone casual, as if they’re not preparing to kill each other in a matter of days. “District Nine.”

Azzi glances back at the screen, her brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t know how to feel about Paige approaching her. She doesn’t know what she wants. This could be some kind of strategy—get close to your enemies, make them lower their guard. Azzi isn’t stupid. She knows better than to trust anyone here.

“Bueckers,” Azzi replies, her voice neutral, not giving anything away. She keeps her eyes on the screen, scrolling through more plant images.

But Paige doesn’t leave. She shifts her weight, bouncing slightly on her heels, like she can’t seem to stay still. The grin on her face widens, and Azzi feels even more confused. Why is Paige so friendly? Why is she smiling like they’re just two normal girls having a chat?

“So, you’re, like, really good with daggers, huh?” Paige says, her voice light. “I saw you throwing earlier. Pretty impressive.”

Azzi doesn’t look up. She sighs instead, her fingers hovering over the screen. “Guess so,” she mumbles. In the back of her mind, she knows she should probably be nicer. Paige might be trying to form an alliance, and with Kellan being a dead end, Azzi could use one. But trust is a luxury she can’t afford right now, and Paige’s enthusiasm throws her off.

Paige doesn’t seem fazed by Azzi’s short response, though. She keeps standing there, grinning like an idiot, her eyes twinkling with some kind of amusement. It’s unnerving how at ease she seems, how… happy. It’s probably a mask. She’s probably as terrified as the rest of them, and she’s just getting through it in her own way.

Nevertheless, Azzi can’t take it anymore. She turns her head slightly, locking eyes with Paige. “Why are you talking to me?” she asks bluntly.

Paige blinks, her grin faltering for just a moment. For the first time, she looks a little unsure of herself. “Um… I don’t really know, actually,” she admits with a small, nervous laugh. “Just… wanted to, I guess.”

Azzi narrows her eyes, studying her. She has no idea if the girl before her is being honest. But the sincerity in her voice catches Azzi a little off guard, and for a second, she’s not sure what to say. This is the Hunger Games. No one talks to someone just because they “want to.” Everyone has an angle. Yet Paige stands there, looking oddly genuine, like she really doesn’t have a reason. Like she just wants to talk to Azzi, no strings attached.

For a moment, Azzi’s walls start to crack. She considers the possibility—however slim—that Paige is just… a good person. It doesn’t make sense, not in a place like this, but the warmth in Paige’s smile makes Azzi’s suspicion waver.

“Well,” Azzi finally says, her voice a little softer than before, “maybe you shouldn’t.” She doesn’t look away this time, her eyes lingering on Paige’s, almost like she’s testing her.

Paige’s grin returns, softer this time, but still there. “Maybe,” she says, “but I’m here anyway.”

Azzi shakes her head a little, gaze returning to the screen. She needs to focus on this, not the girl beside her.

Paige doesn’t seem to be deterred, though, still watching Azzi with that easy smile, her eyes bright. “You’re pretty serious, yeah?” she says, tilting her head, almost like she’s teasing but not quite. “Locked in. I get it. Gotta be. But… we’re all here, y'know? Same boat.”

Azzi shifts her weight, feeling her jaw tighten. “I have to be serious,” Azzi mutters, her fingers swiping across the screen, though she’s not really paying attention to the plants anymore. Her heart beats a little faster under Paige’s gaze. “You can’t survive if you’re not.”

Paige leans in just slightly, and Azzi catches the faint scent of something sweet on her, like flowers. “I know that,” she says, her tone softening for a moment. “But you might need some help in there—if you wanna win.”

Azzi’s shoulders tense. The suggestion makes her uneasy, and her instinct is to push back. Help. From anyone, it feels too dangerous. It feels like relying on someone she can’t control. She barely trusts herself in this place, let alone a girl from another district who, let’s be real, could very well end up as an enemy.

“I don’t need help,” Azzi says, her voice firmer than before. “Especially not from people I don’t know.”

Paige’s smile fades a little, but there’s no frustration in her expression. If anything, she just looks… thoughtful, almost curious about Azzi’s reaction. It’s like she’s trying to figure her out, trying to see beneath the guarded exterior.

Azzi hates that. She doesn’t want to be studied or analyzed, especially not by Paige Bueckers. She’s already doing too much of that herself—constantly assessing everyone, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, trying to predict who’s a threat and who might just fade into the background.

“I’m not trying to get in your way, Azzi,” Paige says quietly, her voice losing some of its earlier lightness. “But, y’know, maybe we don’t have to be enemies. I’ve seen you, and you’re good. Like, real good. And neither of us are Careers and both our district partners are kinda duds, so I just thought…”

Azzi cuts her off, turning to face her abruptly. “Thought what? That we’d be allies? Friends?” She shakes her head, ignoring the strange knot of tension building in her chest. Paige might be trying to help, but Azzi doesn’t want it. She can’t want it. Not here. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t work like that. Sorry.”

Paige stands there, still watching her, and for a second, Azzi thinks she sees something flicker in Paige’s eyes—disappointment, maybe, or understanding. But Paige doesn’t push back. She just nods once, a slow, thoughtful thing.

“Okay,” Paige says, stepping back a little, giving Azzi space. Her smile returns, softer, but still there. “I get it. Just… keep doin' what you’re good at.”

Azzi feels a strange pang in her chest as she watches Paige step away, like maybe she’s made a mistake. But no—she can’t think like that. She needs to stay focused, stay sharp, stay alone. That’s how she’ll survive.

Without another word, Azzi turns on her heel and walks away, her heart beating faster than before.

THE PINK dress hugs Azzi’s figure, its soft blush fabric shimmering under the bright lights of the dressing room. It’s not something she’s ever imagined herself wearing—not this shade, not this tight. She looks almost like a Capitol citizen now, polished and flawless in her own right.

The dress has a high neckline and delicate straps that crisscross her shoulders, falling in elegant folds down to her ankles. It’s simple, yet the color makes her stand out, glowing softly against her dark skin. Her hair is styled in loose waves, not unlike the Capitol’s obsession with effortless beauty, with the font pieces pulled back into braids. The makeup is light but dramatic—plump lips, accentuated cheekbones, and eyes that pop with a subtle pink shimmer.

Seraphine steps back, admiring her work with a satisfied smile. “You look stunning, Azzi. Like a dream.”

Azzi nods, not fully meeting Seraphine’s gaze. She knows she looks good, but it doesn’t feel like her. The face staring back at her in the mirror is a version of herself she doesn’t recognize. It’s not the Azzi from District Nine; it’s not the girl who shoots hoops with her brothers or helps her dad tend to the crops. It’s someone else—someone made for the Capitol’s stage. Someone for their entertainment.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, though her voice lacks enthusiasm. Seraphine doesn’t seem to mind. She knows by now that Azzi is serious, focused. There’s no time for compliments when the Games are looming.

Seraphine’s assistant adjusts the hem of Azzi’s dress one last time before stepping aside. “You’ll knock them dead,” she says with a wink, though the words sit heavy with the weight of their meaning. Knocking them dead. That’s quite literally what Azzi will have to do soon enough.

As she’s led out to the waiting area before the interviews, Azzi’s mind begins to drift. She thinks back to the training evaluations, how she had scored a 10—one of only four tributes to do so. A 10 is good, she knows that, but the competition is fierce. Both the girl and boy from Two scored 10s and Paige managed a 10 as well. There are other tributes with 9s, plenty who will be formidable in their own right. But Paige? Paige is different. She’s unpredictable, unnervingly skilled. And something about her makes Azzi feel a pang of unease.

As Azzi settles into her seat backstage, waiting for her interview with Caesar Flickerman, she watches the other tributes’ interviews on the screen. The Careers are all flashy and confident, playing up their deadliness to the crowd’s delight. Caesar eats it up, grinning and laughing as they boast about their skills and charm the Capitol audience. The boy from District Four also stands out—tall, muscular, and intimidating. A strong swimmer, no doubt. He’ll be dangerous, especially if the arena is at all water-based.

But none of them hold a candle to Paige.

When Paige steps onto the stage, it’s as if the entire room shifts. She looks stunning, effortlessly cool, in a crisp white suit that contrasts sharply with the frilly dresses most of the other girls have chosen. Her hair is down, styled in soft, wavy locks, with the top half pulled back in a way that highlights her sharp features. She looks more masculine than the other girls, but somehow that works in her favor. It’s not just that she’s different—it’s that she owns it. The Capitol loves different.

Azzi watches, unable to tear her eyes away, as Paige charms the entire crowd. She’s funny, confident, and just the right amount of cocky. Caesar practically beams at her, and the audience is eating out of the palm of her hand.

“You’re quite the swordswoman,” Caesar says, raising his eyebrows in admiration. “I saw your score, Paige—a 10! That’s incredible.”

Paige just grins, shrugging casually. “You know, I try.”

The crowd laughs, and Cyrus begins to mutter under his breath. “Damn it,” he says, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “She’s going to have sponsors lined up around the block.”

Azzi knows he’s right. Paige isn’t just skilled—she’s magnetic. People want to root for her. She’s dangerous, yes, but she’s also got this charm that makes you want to see her win, even if that means she’ll be killing people to get there.

Azzi swallows hard, feeling a knot form in her stomach. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s drawn to Paige, too. There’s something about her that pulls Azzi in—her confidence, her grace under pressure, her ease in the face of what’s to come. It’s not just attraction, though she can’t deny that Paige is beautiful. It’s more than that. There’s something about Paige that makes Azzi feel like she’s… alive. Like she’s not just surviving, but living fully in the moment, despite everything. Ironic, considering Paige could be the one to kill Azzi in that arena—or vice versa.

And Azzi hates that she feels this way. She shouldn’t be drawn to Paige. She shouldn’t be thinking about how Paige’s eyes had locked onto hers back at the opening ceremony, or how Paige had approached her during training, trying to talk like they were friends. None of it matters. Paige is just another tribute, another obstacle standing between Azzi and survival.

But still… there’s something about her.

As Paige’s interview wraps up, the crowd erupts in applause, and Caesar gives her a hug before she leaves the stage. Azzi watches as Paige walks off, her suit practically glowing under the stage lights. For a brief moment, Paige glances in Azzi’s direction, their eyes meeting across the room. It’s quick—just a fleeting second—but Azzi feels her heart skip a beat before she looks away, reminding herself why she’s here.

Just two interviews later, Azzi is taking a deep breath as the lights hit her, stepping forward onto the stage. The crowd is massive, louder than she imagined, and their cheers seem to echo in her chest. Her eyes land on Caesar Flickerman, who’s grinning wide at her as she approaches him, his flamboyant suit sparkling under the stage lights.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Azzi Fudd from District Nine!” Caesar announces, and the crowd’s cheers grow even louder.

Azzi sits down next to Caesar, her fingers resting awkwardly in her lap. Despite the excitement around her, she feels the familiar nervousness bubbling up inside. This isn’t her element—talking, being the center of attention. She’d rather be on the sidelines, unnoticed, but here, there’s no avoiding it.

“Azzi, you look absolutely radiant tonight!” Caesar says, his voice warm and enthusiastic. “Tell me, how does it feel to be here in the Capitol, getting all this attention?”

Azzi smiles politely, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “It’s… different,” she says softly. “I’m not really used to it. But it’s nice, I guess. Everyone’s been very kind.” Very kind because they probably know I’ll be dead in a couple weeks.

Caesar nods, leaning in slightly. “I can imagine it’s quite a change from life in District 9. Tell me, what’s life like back home?”

Azzi pauses, her mind drifting back to the open fields and the quiet days of working alongside her family. “It’s simple,” she says. “We work hard, but it’s peaceful. Most of my days I’m just spending time with my family, doing the chores or playing basketball. It’s nothing like here, but it’s home.”

Caesar smiles warmly, sensing the connection she has to her district. “Family, huh? I bet they’re watching right now, rooting for you. Tell me, do you have a big family?”

Azzi shrugs a little. “Not too big, not too small, I think. There’s my parents, and then I have two younger brothers. And we’re still very close to my grandparents. I just… love my family, they’re very supportive. They’re great.” She feels her throat get choked up by the end of the sentence, not wanting to think too much about her family, how much she misses them. Even though, truthfully, she knows she should be thinking about her family because that is what needs to be her motivation. She needs to win this for them, no matter how impossible it may seem.

The crowd gives a soft murmur of approval, and Caesar’s grin widens. “That’s wonderful. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of people cheering you on back home. And speaking of support…” He pauses dramatically, the audience clearly hanging on his every word. “Any special someone out there you’re hoping to impress? Perhaps a crush back home?”

Azzi’s eyes widen a little at the question, feeling her face heat up. A crush. That is quite literally the last thing on her mind right now. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not sure how to answer without sounding awkward.

“I, um… no,” she says with a laugh that’s more nervous than she intended. “Not really. I’ve been focused on training, so… no time for that.”

Caesar laughs good-naturedly, waving a hand as if to brush off the question. “Oh, I get it, I get it! Training comes first, of course. But I’m sure there are plenty of admirers in the Capitol who are wishing they could get your attention.”

The crowd cheers in agreement, and Azzi can’t help but smile a little at their enthusiasm, though she still feels her nerves fluttering in her stomach.

“But let’s talk about something fun,” Caesar continues, changing gears smoothly. “You’ve been in the Capitol for a little while now. What’s your favorite part so far? The food? The fashion? The luxury?”

Azzi takes a moment to think, glancing down at her dress. It’s true, everything in the Capitol has been overwhelming—lavish and excessive compared to the modest life she’s known back in her district. But there’s one thing that stands out to her more than anything.

“The food,” she answers with a small smile. “I’ve never seen so much of it in my life. And it’s all so… colorful. I didn’t even know you could make food look like that.”

Caesar chuckles. “Colorful! I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” He hits his knee as he laughs, the audience giggling with him. “But, yes! The Capitol chefs do love their extravagant dishes. Has there been anything in particular that’s caught your eye?”

“Honestly, the desserts,” Azzi admits, her smile widening. “There was this cake we had the other night, and it was shaped like a swan. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was so good.”

The crowd laughs once more, clearly charmed by her innocence, and Caesar claps his hands together. “A girl after my own heart! Who can resist a good dessert, right?”

Azzi relaxes a little more, finding it easier to talk now that the conversation has shifted to lighter topics. Caesar’s friendliness helps, and she realizes that, for the first time, the crowd isn’t as intimidating as she thought they’d be.

“You know, Azzi,” Caesar says, his tone softening just a bit, “you’ve got this quiet strength about you. I think a lot of people are really drawn to that. You don’t need to be loud or flashy to make an impact. And clearly you have made an impact—you scored a ten in the training. I mean, come on!”

Azzi smiles a little bit at the validation, her dimples poking through. “Thank you,” she says, nodding. And then she shrugs, her lips quirking up a little further as she adds, “I try.”

Caesar and the crowd chuckle at the action. “Well, you’ve certainly done well,” he tells her earnestly, before adding, with a wink, “And I have to say, your smile is absolutely infectious. I think you’ve got the whole crowd wrapped around your finger.”

The audience cheers again, louder this time, and Azzi feels her face heat up.

“Well, Azzi, it’s been an absolute pleasure talking to you tonight,” Caesar says, standing and offering his hand to help her up. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all rooting for you.”

Azzi stands, shaking Caesar’s hand and giving the crowd a small wave as they erupt into applause. As she walks off the stage, back to where Seraphine, Lucia, and Cyrus are waiting, the adrenaline from the interview still buzzes through her.

Lucia beams at her as she approaches, her hands rushing to cup Azzi’s cheeks. “You were perfect, Azzi! Absolutely perfect.”

Seraphine nods in agreement. “The crowd loves you. You’re going to get so many sponsors, I just know it.”

Even Cyrus gives her a rare grin, clapping her on the shoulder. “You did good out there, kid. Real good. I think you’ve got them in the palm of your hand now.”

Azzi lets out a breath, the tension slowly leaving her body as she realizes she’s done it. She got through the interview, and didn’t just survive it—she actually made a connection, made herself heard and liked. The Capitol might not feel like home, but for now, at least, she knows she’s done everything she can to stand out in the best way possible.

THE MORNING is unnervingly quiet. Azzi walks beside Cyrus, the soles of her shoes barely making a sound on the sleek marble floors of the Capitol building. They’re headed toward the hovercraft, the final step before the arena. The place where everything will change. Each step closer feels heavier, the weight of what’s coming settling into her bones.

Cyrus walks just ahead, his brow furrowed in thought. Azzi knows well enough that he’s not the type for overly emotional goodbyes, but there’s a seriousness to him today that wasn’t there during training. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and Azzi notices the faint lines of tension in his jaw. She’s quiet, still processing the fact that in just a few hours, she’ll be fighting for her life.

As they near the docking area, Cyrus stops abruptly, turning to face her. His eyes are sharp, cutting through the nervous haze that’s settled over her.

“Listen to me, Azzi,” he begins, voice low but firm. “This is it. From here on out, it’s all strategy. Everything you do, every move you make—it has to be calculated, smart.”

Azzi nods, her throat tightening as she listens.

“I know it’s not in your nature to trust easily, but in the arena, you’ll need to be even more cautious,” he continues. “Don’t form alliances unless it’s strategically sound. I don’t care if they seem friendly or if they remind you of someone from back home—trust no one unless it gives you an advantage.”

His words cut deep, and she swallows hard. She hasn’t really thought much about alliances, but it’s clear that Cyrus has. He knows this game inside and out.

“And whatever you do, keep your emotions in check,” Cyrus adds, his gaze hardening. “The moment you start caring too much about anyone in there, you’ve already lost. I know you’re good-hearted, Azzi, but that’s not going to save you—not in the Games.”

She doesn’t say anything, just nods again. The lump in her throat grows as the reality of what’s coming washes over her.

“And the bloodbath.” Cyrus pauses, before his voice lowers slightly. “The moment those platforms rise, it’s going to be chaos. Don’t linger. Don’t get caught up in the fight unless it’s unavoidable. Get what you need and get out. Do you understand?”

Azzi meets his eyes, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. “I understand,” she says softly.

He studies her for a moment, and for the first time since they arrived in the Capitol, Cyrus’s tough exterior seems to soften. His hand reaches out, resting on her shoulder, and the squeeze he gives is firm, reassuring.

“I believe in you,” he says quietly, his voice sincere. “You’re smart, and you’ve trained hard. I’m going to do everything in my power to help get you home.”

Her eyes well up slightly at his words, but she quickly blinks back the tears. She can’t afford to be emotional right now. There’s no space for it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, barely able to get the words out past the lump in her throat.

Cyrus nods once, and then he’s stepping back, his hand falling away from her shoulder as they reach the hovercraft. Seraphine is already there, waiting for Azzi, her usual cheerful demeanor muted with the solemnity of the day. The metallic hiss of the hovercraft’s door opening sends a shiver down Azzi’s spine. This is it.

Without another word, Azzi steps inside. Seraphine follows, offering a small, reassuring smile as the door slides shut behind them. The hovercraft hums softly as it lifts off, heading toward the arena.

Inside, the sterile, clinical atmosphere makes her stomach churn. A Capitol medic approaches her almost immediately, a small syringe in hand. Azzi barely flinches as the needle pierces her skin, injecting the tracker into her forearm. She knows it’s necessary. They need to know where she is at all times. It’s standard procedure, but it still makes her feel like livestock.

Seraphine sits beside her, her usual flair for Capitol fashion stark against the dull surroundings of the hovercraft. She doesn’t say much, just watches as Azzi rubs her arm where the tracker was inserted. The silence is heavy, filled with unspoken words, and it’s not long before they arrive at the underground facility just outside the arena.

Once inside, they’re led into a small room where Azzi is handed her arena outfit—a black, water-resistant suit that fits snugly against her frame. It’s durable, sleek, and clearly meant for endurance. The material feels odd against her skin, foreign compared to the simple, looser clothes she’s worn most of her life.

She glances at herself in the mirror. The suit is practical, but its design tells her something about the arena. Water. The Capitol is hinting that water will play a significant role in the Games. Maybe a jungle, maybe a lake, or something more treacherous. Her mind races with possibilities, but she pushes the thoughts aside. She’ll find out soon enough.

As she pulls the last of the suit into place, Seraphine watches her carefully, her eyes glassy. The usually confident stylist seems suddenly small, fragile, as if she’s struggling to keep herself together. She steps forward, her hands gently smoothing the fabric of Azzi’s suit, her fingers trembling slightly.

“You’re going to be alright, Azzi,” Seraphine says softly, her voice cracking just a little. “You’ve been so strong. You’re going to make it back—for your family. I know you will.”

Azzi’s chest tightens at the words. Seraphine’s sincerity, her belief that Azzi can survive this—it’s almost too much to bear.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers, her voice barely audible.

Seraphine pulls her into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around Azzi’s frame with surprising strength. It’s brief, but Azzi feels the weight of Seraphine’s worry in that embrace. It’s like she’s saying goodbye.

When they pull apart, Seraphine’s eyes are red-rimmed, though she’s trying her best to hold it together. “Good luck, Azzi,” she says, her voice shaky. “You’re going to be okay.”

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat and nods. She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she just gives Seraphine a small, grateful smile.

The door to the launch chamber opens, and it’s time.

Azzi steps into the glass cylinder, her heart pounding in her chest. The last thing she sees before the platform begins to rise is Seraphine, standing in the doorway, her hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer.

And then the ground shifts beneath her feet, and she’s lifted upward, the glass tube carrying her toward the surface. Toward the arena.

The first thing she notices is the intense humidity. The air is thick, almost suffocating, and it clings to her skin. As her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, she realizes why—it’s a jungle. Dense, tangled vines hang from towering trees, their massive roots weaving through the ground like some ancient network. The ground beneath her platform is slick with mud, and just beyond the edge of the platform is a large body of water—a vast lake, its surface calm and unnervingly still. It stretches out as far as she can see, bordered by the dense jungle on one side and the metallic glint of the Cornucopia in the center.

Water. She was right.

Azzi’s gaze darts to the other tributes. There’s movement all around her, platforms rising as the others are pulled into view. Some faces are familiar from the training center, others not so much. She spots the Careers first—the boy and girl from District Two, standing tall and confident, both of them dangerous and ready. Their eyes are already locked on the Cornucopia, clearly prepared to kill anyone who stands in their way.

A few spots down, she sees Kellan. His face is pale, his eyes wide with fear. He looks like he’s barely holding it together, his body stiff as if he might bolt the second the gong sounds. He’s trembling slightly, and Azzi’s heart tugs at the sight. He’s not going to last long, not with that kind of fear weighing him down. But she can’t afford to think about him—about anyone, really. Cyrus’s voice echoes in her mind: Don’t get too close to anyone.

She swallows hard, her gaze shifting back to the Cornucopia. The metallic structure gleams in the sunlight, stacked with supplies—everything they’ll need to survive. Weapons, food, water. But it’s a death trap. The Careers will get there first, and they’ll cut down anyone who tries to take something they’ve claimed.

Azzi’s eyes flick to the jungle behind her. It might be safer to head for cover, to avoid the bloodbath entirely. But then again, if she doesn’t grab something now, she could be left empty-handed, vulnerable. She forces herself to breathe deeply, trying to focus on her strategy. It has to be quick, precise. She’ll grab something—anything—and get out. That’s it. Nothing fancy.

The countdown begins, the metallic voice booming over the arena. Sixty seconds.

Azzi’s heart races as the clock ticks down. She glances around once more at the other tributes, trying to gauge their movements before it’s too late. Some are already tensing, their eyes glued to the Cornucopia. Others, like Kellan, are frozen in place, terrified to move. Far across from her, Azzi thinks she sees a flash of blonde hair. Paige. She wonders if she’s scared right now.

Thirty seconds.

Azzi’s hands ball into fists at her sides, every muscle in her body tightening. The humidity, the jungle, the water—it all presses in on her, but she pushes the fear down. She can’t afford to freeze up. She won’t.

Fifteen seconds.

Her pulse pounds in her ears, the world around her narrowing to just the Cornucopia and the water at her back. She feels the weight of everything—Cyrus’s words, Seraphine’s hope, the Capitol’s eyes—bearing down on her. It’s overwhelming, but she won’t let it break her.

Ten seconds.

The other tributes are crouching now, their bodies taut, ready to sprint the moment the gong sounds. Azzi glances at the Cornucopia again, her mind calculating every possible move, every route.

Five seconds.

Her heart hammers in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Three.

She digs her heels into the platform.

Two.

Her hands tremble.

One.

The gong sounds.

The Sixtieth Hunger Games have begun.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #uconn #wbb #wcbb #pazzi #pazzi fic #azzi fudd #uconn huskies #paige x azzi #hunger games #wnba #wlw #pazzi angst #hunger games au #safe and sound

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astrosouldivinity · 1 year ago

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Venus Sign Observations: 💞🤎💞

Mutable Venus Edition: ♾️

Pisces Venus: 🌊

🌊 Pisces Venus is open-minded when it comes to various love styles, which can be attributed to their mutable water nature. They possess a remarkable ability to offer unconditional love to virtually everyone they come across.

🌊 In intimate relationships, they enjoy pleasing their partners and don’t mind adapting to their partners love style/needs especially if that would make them happy.

🌊 Venus in Pisces can get obsessed with their partner too high-key. They are flighty but obsessed at the same time which can be confusing for their partner. However, I think their love can be pretty intense in general.

🌊 As loving as Pisces Venus are, I think it’s lowkey a f-boy/girl placement. They have a tendency to fall in love quickly, but they can also move on just as swiftly. However, the process of moving on can sometimes take a considerable amount of time for them as well. Their emotions can be chaotic, leading them to appear flighty in their relationships.

🌊 Pisces Venus doesn’t always want to be floating around in love. They yearn for a secure and comforting space to calm their emotional waves. Essentially, they desire a safe haven where they can find solace and relaxation in their relationships.

🌊 Venus in Pisces will love all of you even the darkness that is kept tucked away. It truly doesn’t scare them. So long as you keep up with their fantasy, don’t take advantage of them, and hurt them too many times to the point where they can’t forgive you, they aren’t going anywhere.

🌊 Venus in Pisces tend to be open-minded when it comes to relationships, they may even be open to polyamory, but they are not opposed to monogamy either. Their preference for one or the other depends on their other placements. For example, as a Pisces Venus myself, I am capable of being loyal when the situation calls for it. This ability to navigate both relationship styles can be attributed to my Taurus Sun/Mars placements, which provide stability and a sense of commitment.

🌊 Having a Gemini Moon further enhances my openness to explore different relationship dynamics. However, I will only participate in them if I am with a partner who is mature about it. I’ve been with people before that were non-monogamous but didn’t like it when I was the same way. Like, babe, I'm simply matching your energy.

Sagittarius Venus: 🏹

🏹 Sagittarius Venus is open-minded when it comes to choosing a partner. In fact, they are more likely to have a partner from a foreign country or a different cultural background. However, they do have a fear of commitment. Which often leads them to explore various relationship dynamics, as they value their freedom and independence.

🏹 In their intimate relationships, Venus in Sagittarius likes to maintain an easy-going nature. They prefer to let things unfold naturally and avoid rushing into anything. Clinginess is not well-received by them, as it gives them a sense of discomfort when their freedom is suffocated or suppressed.

🏹 They may be more inclined to explore relationship dynamics such as ethical non-monogamy or open relationships. Their love for diverse experiences extends to their romantic life, and they may find fulfillment in connecting with many different individuals.

🏹 Venus in Sagittarius’s adventurous nature and desire for new encounters can make them more open to exploring non-traditional relationship structures that allow for multiple connections.

🏹 While Sagittarius Venus have a tendency to value their freedom, they are still capable of committing to a relationship. However, it requires finding the right person. Like someone who shares their open-mindedness and free-spirited nature. They need someone who won’t restrict them.

Gemini Venus: 🦋

🦋 Gemini Venus are adaptable with their approach to love. They will adjust their mindset and actions when it comes to matters of the heart. While they may appear flighty and free-spirited in their romantic endeavors, once they make a decision to commit to a partner, they are decisive and fully dedicated.

🦋 Gemini Venus are witty and possess a great sense of humor. They enjoy playful banter and need someone who can match their energy and make them laugh overall.

🦋 Venus in Gemini values intellectual stimulation in their relationships. They seek a partner who is not only intelligent but also intriguing and captivating. They desire someone who can engage in meaningful conversations and challenge their thoughts and beliefs. The ability to broaden their perspectives is essential for them, as they thrive on continuous learning and growth.

🦋 They appreciate partners who are open to new ideas, experiences, and perspectives. Gemini Venus enjoys exploring different viewpoints and needs a partner who can also embrace diversity and adapt to new situations.

🦋 They are attracted to partners who can strike a balance between nurturing the connection and allowing each other to flourish as individuals.

🦋 Venus in Gemini values their independence and needs a partner who will respect and appreciate this aspect of their personality. It is important for them to be with someone who has their own interests and hobbies, as they believe in the importance of maintaining individuality within a relationship.

Virgo Venus: 🍃

🍃 Virgo Venus tends to approach love and relationships with a practical and analytical mindset. They value stability and reliability in their partnerships, seeking a strong foundation based on trust and mutual support.

🍃 They often have high standards in their intimate relationships, but it stems from their desire to see their partner reach their highest potential. They genuinely want their loved ones to be the best version of themselves.

🍃 In their intimate relationships, Venus in Virgo values self-improvement and personal growth. They always strive to become better versions of themselves and expect the same from their partners.

🍃 Intellectual stimulation and engaging conversations are important to Virgo Venus, as they enjoy exchanging ideas and learning overall.

🍃 Venus in Virgo has a strong desire to fix and save others, driven by their compassionate aura. However, their giving and selfless nature can make them vulnerable to being taken advantage of by others.

🍃 In their intimate relationships, they prioritize finding someone who fits seamlessly into their lifestyle and meets their high standards. However, if they genuinely love someone, they are willing to be more flexible and make compromises.

🍃 Virgo Venus values cleanliness, organization, and orderliness in their surroundings, and this preference often extends to their relationships as well. They appreciate partners who are responsible, hardworking, and self-sufficient.

🍃 Open-minded when it comes to different love styles. They are willing to try anything once, especially if it makes their partner happy. Open relationships could be a possibility for them, especially if they have other mutable placements.

©𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍.

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gothicxreylover · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I thought of this scenario that I'd love to make a request to you. I have this weird obsession with the Hashiras (and Tengen's wives) so I'd like to go with them this time as well. Everyone in the scenario below is members of the Corps.

「After coming back from a long mission that took several days, the Hashiras found y/n, their object of adoration, looking somber and refusing to look at them. Many questions and words of comfort later, y/n reluctantly turned to them, revealing a swollen dark bruise on one side of their face, a teary eye and a slight bloody lip.

Truth revelation: the bruise came from a powerful smack/slap to the face but it was y/n defending another person, who happened to be a friend y/n made in the Corps. Y/n just wanted to stop a petty, meaningless fight between them and the mean assailant (a typical bully) in peace. But the bully decided to attack their friend so y/n acted without a thought.

In the end, the whole ordeal was stopped but ended with pain and spilled blood. However, y/n understood their beloved's yandere traits too well as they were lowkey scared for the bully's sake if they knew. Hence y/n trying to hide the whole thing and tend to their injuries by themselves.」

Haha this random idea stemmed from a scene from a drama I saw long ago. Anyway, take your time and no need to rush. I'm sure it will turn out amazing with your writing. Have a nice day!

Ahhh! This is a good scenario! Here’s your story and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote Tengen and his wives separately.

[Scene: The Corps’ Headquarters, Late Evening]

After days of grueling battles and endless travel, the entire Corps had finally returned to headquarters. The familiar corridors and quiet moments usually brought relief—but tonight, something was off. You were seated quietly on a low bench near the entryway, your eyes cast downward. A dark, swollen bruise marred one side of your face, your lip was slightly bloody, and a single tear glistened as if it held all the unspoken worries of the night. The Hashiras—and Tengen’s wives—gathered around you, each reacting in their own distinctive way.

Giyu Tomioka’s Perspective:

Giyu’s usually calm, inscrutable expression shifted the moment he noticed your injury. He approached slowly, every measured step heavy with concern. “Y/N,” he said in his low, steady tone, “please, let me help.” Internally, Giyu felt a quiet surge of protectiveness. Though he rarely voiced his emotions, his mind raced with worry over why you’d hide your pain. He suspected you might be trying to shield someone from the fallout—a thought that made his heart ache in silent understanding.

Shinobu Kocho’s Perspective:

Ever the perceptive one, Shinobu’s gentle eyes took in every detail—the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the slight tremor in your hands, the bruise that told a story of sudden violence. “My dear,” she murmured softly as she knelt beside you, offering a delicate handkerchief. Her mind whirled with concern and curiosity. “There’s more to this than meets the eye,” she thought, recalling the hint of a struggle in your hesitant glance. Determined to soothe your pain without prying too much, she resolved to help you tend to your wounds—both physical and emotional.

Kyojuro Rengoku’s Perspective:

Kyojuro’s fiery spirit softened at the sight of you in distress. He practically bounded over, his usual exuberance tempered by genuine worry. “Y/N! I cannot bear to see you hurt!” he declared, voice brimming with passion. In his heart, the flame of protectiveness burned fiercely. He knew that you would never risk your well-being lightly—and if it meant defending another soul, you would do so without hesitation. Yet, the idea that you felt compelled to hide your truth stirred a mix of admiration and concern within him. “I will ensure you’re safe,” he vowed silently, his spirit ignited by the need to shield you from further harm.

Tengen Uzui’s Perspective:

With his flamboyant flair, Tengen strode into the room, his gaze instantly locking onto your injured face. “Oh my—what misadventure has befallen you?” he exclaimed, though his tone was laced with unmistakable care. In the glimmer of the overhead lanterns, he noted every detail—the bruise, the tear, the stubborn way you avoided his eyes. Tengen’s mind raced with protective instincts and a tinge of possessiveness that he rarely admitted aloud. “No one shall harm you again, not while I’m here,” he promised, his dramatic tone softening as he regarded you with a mixture of pride and worry.

Mitsuri Kanroji’s Perspective:

Mitsuri’s heart immediately went out to you. The sight of your pain—a token of your selflessness—filled her with both love and anxiety. She rushed forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to gently brush away a stray tear. “Sweetheart, why won’t you let us take care of you?” she asked in a tender whisper, her voice warm and nurturing. Internally, Mitsuri’s mind was a storm of emotions: admiration for your bravery, sorrow at your silence, and a fierce desire to mend not just your wounds but your heart. She promised herself that she would hold you close until you felt safe enough to share your burden.

Muichiro Tokito’s Perspective:

Typically reserved and often aloof, Muichiro’s eyes nonetheless flickered with concern when he saw your condition. He paused at a distance before stepping forward in his characteristically understated manner. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “I noticed something was amiss.” Although his words were few, his thoughts were anything but indifferent. Muichiro analyzed every small detail—each bruise and hesitation—wondering why you had chosen silence over confession. In his reflective mind, he resolved that once your wounds were tended to, you might find the strength to trust him with your truth.

Obanai Iguro’s Perspective:

Obanai’s sharp gaze hardened momentarily as he took in the sight of your injuries. There was a flicker of irritation mixed with concern; he could not fathom why you would hide something so important. “You mustn’t keep this to yourself,” he said, his tone clipped but earnest. Underneath his stern exterior, Obanai’s heart pounded with the fierce desire to protect you from any further harm. He suspected that your silence was meant to spare someone else—and though that choice might have been noble, he feared it would only invite greater danger. He vowed internally that he would not let anyone, bully or otherwise, threaten your well-being.

Sanemi Shinazugawa’s Perspective:

Sanemi’s rough demeanor cracked as he took in the evidence of your struggle. His first instinct was anger—anger that you had been hurt and anger that you’d chosen to hide it. “Damn it, Y/N,” he grumbled, stepping closer with a protective scowl, “you shouldn’t have done that.” Beneath his abrasive words lay a genuine care that few ever witnessed. He bristled at the thought of a bully taking advantage of your quiet sacrifice, and though his approach was blunt, his intent was clear: you were too precious to be left in harm’s way. His internal promise was simple—he would ensure no one ever dared to hurt you again.

Gyomei Himejima’s Perspective:

Gyomei’s deep, resonant voice was filled with sorrow as he approached. “Child, your pain weighs on my soul,” he intoned softly, his enormous presence radiating a calm reassurance. His eyes, wise and empathetic, took in every mark of your suffering with a reverence usually reserved for sacred things. Gyomei believed that every wound told a story—and tonight, your silent narrative spoke of a courage that demanded both healing and understanding. He knelt beside you with gentle care, promising silently that your spirit would be nurtured as diligently as your body was mended.

Makio (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Makio was the first of Tengen’s wives to step forward, pragmatic yet fiercely tender in her concern. “Y/N, you know you can’t hide from us,” she chided softly, her eyes both warm and inquisitive. In her mind, the marks on your face were not just signs of a physical scuffle but evidence of your brave heart. She admired your instinct to protect a friend, yet worried about the toll it was taking on you. “Let me help patch you up,” she offered, determined to ease your pain before you could even consider keeping secrets that might only lead to more hurt.

Suma (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Suma approached with a quiet, calming presence. “I understand that you wanted to protect someone,” she said gently, placing a soothing hand on your arm. Her calm exterior belied a mind that raced with both empathy and concern. Suma knew that behind your silent defiance lay the weight of responsibility and unspoken fear—the fear that revealing the truth might unleash a tempest of emotions in those who loved you fiercely. “Please, trust us enough to let us care for you,” she murmured, her voice as soft as a lullaby, promising that no harm would come from honesty among those who cherished you.

Hinatsuru (Tengen’s Wife) – Her Perspective:

Hinatsuru’s eyes shone with maternal warmth as she gently took your hand. “Your sacrifice is not lost on us,” she said, her tone imbued with a tender urgency. In her heart, she understood the delicate balance between protecting others and protecting oneself. Hinatsuru worried that your reticence might lead you down a dangerous path of silent suffering. “Sometimes, being cared for is the strongest defense,” she whispered, as she carefully inspected your injuries. Her thoughts danced between admiration for your valor and a desperate need to shield you from the internal torment of keeping secrets.

Epilogue (Y/N’s Moment):

Surrounded by those who cherished you, each with their own hopes, fears, and promises to keep you safe, you felt the weight of isolation begin to lift. Though the truth of that day’s events still trembled on the edge of your tongue, the unwavering love in every gaze urged you toward trust. In that shared moment—where fierce protectiveness met gentle understanding—you realized that no secret was too heavy when borne by hearts united in care.

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iveneverbeenhere · 5 months ago

Text

Mon Amour | NM & JK

Pairing: Namjoon x reader x Jungkook

Genre: Poly! BTS, established relationship, unrequited(?) love but not really, lowkey angst????? Maybe but it’s just cause Jungkook is stupid

CW: none, kinda sad, jungkook drinks, everyone bi inthis idgaf

Word count: Under 2K

A/N: WOOOOOO I’m free from the shackles of responsibility. Not sure how I feel about this but the poly bts wip post seemed to get a good reaction. Enjoy 🫡

Baby, you’re my kryptonite

Honestly, you make me wanna

“Ohhh, sexy Namjoon!” drunken words fall out of his mouth as though it was proper conversation.

Rvike: lol Jk is very drunk I see.

“Namjoon!” He exclaims in a slurred fashion.

Rvike: Wrong.

Rvike: Wanna take another guess “chic boy” lol

His eyes widen, looking like a small galaxy underneath his purple and blue LED lights. His pink lips part slightly in an “o” shape, and his tongue and teeth show through slightly.

“Huh?” He squints as if trying to remember something important.

“What…Oh! Noona! It’s you!” He cries out. He’ll get another noise complaint later, but the alcohol in his system makes him loose.

Rvike: Yep! There’s my smart boy.

He smiles. Alcohol makes him very loose.

Jungkook took a long time to warm up to you. He scowled at you when you were introduced as Namjoon’s girlfriend. Like hell, you two are serious. Namjoon told you “It’s just an adjustment period.”. Jungkook just needed to get used to you being around. He always treated him gently even as he grew into adulthood. He’s not sure if it’s because he still sees him as a kid or because he sees him as someone special.

“I don’t like her.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t.”

Tae and Jimin give each other a knowing look while eating their takeout. Tae chokes on his noodles as Jimin chuckles holding his chopsticks.

“What?” Jungkook crosses his arms and pouts as he questions them. He hates not being involved.

“Jealous much?” Jimin snorts as V throws his head forward, still holding the noodles in his mouth.

He furrows his brows, slamming his palms onto the table and shaking the silverware with his force. His ears turn red as he raises his voice reactionarily, “Of what?”

“Hi.”

You give Jungkook a small wave, tiptoeing towards him in your silettos. You slowly approach him like a stray rabbit. Afraid that the moment you make a slightly harsh move, he’ll run away scared.

He turns his head around and narrows his bloodshot eyes. His hair is dishelved as his nose drips like a leaky faucet. His makeup runs down his face in streaks, h There you stand gorgeous in your evening dress. You look like a goddess, someone to worship and devote their lives to you; to have your praises sung from the heavens while mortals like Jungkook can only destroy themselves in envy.

“You are my everything. Where my happiness begins and ends. The world falls apart when I’m with you; leaving me with nothing except us and our future. I—I feel truly present within myself whenever I’m with you. I may not be a perfect man and we’ve had our fair amount of disagreement. Ah–I can see you nodding your head. That’s cute. Oh, god, don’t make me cry too! In every moment, you’ve been there. You’ve supported me, loved me–made me a better man. I may not be able to fulfill all your expectations of me; however, I’ll be more than happy to stand next to you for the rest of my life.”

Don’t say it.

“Will you–”

Don’t fucking say it.

“Marry”

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. The moment you say it, I’m finished. The moment you say it, I’ll mean nothing to you. I’ll be nothing.

“Me?”

Fuck.

“I saw you leaving during dinner; which, y’know, seemed weird cause you’ve been complaining about wanting to eat the whole night.” You fidget with your new wedding ring over your long velvet gloves. The gold brings out the shine in your eyes, highlighting your long lashes. The small smile you give shows the gap between your front teeth. You’re so charming it's disgusting.

He turns his head and sniffles.

“I’m fine.” He mutters as wobbles onto his feet.

You stumble over; ghosting over his shoulder, worried he’ll fall face-first into the floor.

“Hey, are you sure because I can call an Uber–”

He roughly shoves his shoulder away from you leaving you standing in the cold night air.

He hates you and himself a little more that night.

He gets an earful that morning from Jin.

“The least you can do is show some conduct! Just because you’re jealous of Namjoon doesn’t mean you get to worry us all sick!”

Jungkook doesn’t understand what he means by “jealous of”.

Still, despite his standoffish attitude, he warms up to you.

You have a loud laugh that rivals Jin’s in obnxiousity. You feed Bam and Yeontan whenever he and Tae are too busy. You always ask how everyone in the group is doing. Most of all, he sees how happy Namjoon is with you. His dimples permanently frame his face and his eyes resemble a crescent moon when he’s in your presence. He looks at you you’ve given him life itself; although, something still feels off.

“Oiiii, Jung-kookkieeeeee.”

He bursts out in a bunny smile as he sits up in bed.

“Yesssss, Noonaaaaaaa.”

“You want dinner?”

“Absolutely–Wait why do you ask?”

“Oh, Namjoon and I were just thinking about you. He said this dish is your favorite, so why not share.”

His heart beats a little faster than he would like at that statement. He giggles as his cheeks turn pink.

“Ok, you want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself. You’re more than enough.”

He knows you mean that statement jokingly, but he can’t stop thinking about it on the way to Namjoon’s house.

When he arrives at the front door, you open it with Namjoon’s oversized hoodie and dark sweats on; wooden spoon covered in sauce in hand as you smile with a “Welcome!” it clicks.

Jungkook has never liked two people for this long. He’s had short-term crushes that have occasionally coincided with his long-term ones, yet they have never been so in sync as with his love for you and Namjoon.

Rvike: Jungkookie

“Hi, Noona.” He gives a toothy smile making his chews feel warmer than they already are.

Rvike: Kookie, sing me a song please

He leans into his arm as he giggles rereading your comment. His long curls tickle his eye lids.

“Sing me a song, which one?”

Rvike: Any song you feel like singing

“Song I feel like singing? Mmmm–Oh I know.” He quickly grabs his mic and pulls up the lyrics for his chosen song.

“This one’s for you and Namjoon Noona!”

Mon amour

You know you free my soul

You ride my wave, I control

Rvike: your voice is like butter

Rvike: I want to date you Jungkook

He chuckles and leans his head down with his bangs framing his face. His heart feels like its being squeezed.

“How can you say thing like that on live?”

A small fear sets in. He can’t help but voice it as his eyes go slightly wide.

“What will Hyung say?”

Rvike: lmao that was RM

Oh. oh. It’s a surprise but the squeezing feeling doesn’t leave. It feels like the hands have been replaced with another, stronger pair.

Rvike: Jk marry me

Rvike: I love you

He throws his head down on the counter next to his whiskey. His body shakes with laughter and embarrassment. He raises his head to show his small tears and wide smile. He runs his hands through his hair, wishing it was either one of yours. Suddenly, his apartment feels too big for him and Bam.

Rvike: lmao he’s also drunk

“Hehe, sorry for making you take care of us Noona.”

Rvike: Don’t worry

Rvike: I’ll take care of you both for the rest of my life if I have to

His eyes scan the message and he giggles. Everything feels so light but heavy when he’s drunk.

“You’re so sweet Noona. I love you.

Rvike: I love you too Kookie

Rvike: I’ll go take care of Namjoonie

Rvike: call me if you need anything

“Okayyyyy, bye Noona.” He gives a small wave.

He’ll think about calling you for the rest of the night. He’ll dream about sleeping between you and Namjoon. His large chest on his back, wrapping his arm around his waist. Your smaller hand will hold onto Namjoon’s as your other one guides Jungkook’s head into your shoulder. Jungkook always feels so small around you both. You’ll laugh about his hair tickling you as you drag your leg around him and Namjoon. Jungkook will grab you by your waist closer, as he’s always wanted as he tells you to bear with it. He’ll smell your jasmine perfume mixed with Namjoon’s musk and booze scent as he falls into slumber. There he’ll wake up the next morning to you and Namjoon smiling with him; instead of an empty bed and a hangover.

Je t’aime, Mon amour

I’ve been wildin’

Your love is so violent

You givin’ me solace

If only he could.

Je t’aime, Mon amour

You make me wanna dive in

Taglist: @joonlover1207

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sirhamburrger · 4 months ago

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UNRAVEL (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (detective x detective, for day two of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which you grow to love your case partner in all his unconventionality. ━☆ wc: 1272 || tags/cw: gn!reader, bachira is off the walla crazy, lover boy x no. 1 hater || event m.list ━☆ i'm lowkey very proud of this!! bit long but whatever

you absolutely hated meguru bachira.

he had risen through the ranks of the organisation, making detective in just under five years. you, however, did not have as easy a time, so everything about him ended up grating on your nerves; his too-loud laugh, his tendency to skip over vital steps in the investigation process, and his penchant for inappropriate jokes at even more inappropriate timings, just to name a few.

you’ve always been serious about your job, focused, meticulous. and he was... well, a walking distraction. the way he’d spin around in his stupid swivel chair, mutter nonsense about "feeling the rhythm of the case," and throw out stupidly outlandish theories at task force meetings? it did nothing but made your blood boil.

but you’re stuck with him as your case partner now, and there’s nothing you can really do about it.

"hey, what do you think about this case? i'm sensing some kinda weird vibe here," bachira says mysteriously, a grin plastered across his face as he expertly spins his pen between his fingers. "maybe the suspect’s hiding in plain sight, right? you know, like a ninja!"

you stare at him, simultaneously annoyed and baffled. "a… a ninja? seriously?"

he tilts his head, the usual playful glint present in his eyes. "hey, don't knock it 'til you try it! you gotta think outside the box." he pauses, looking over at you with a grin that’s somehow both mischievous and... genuine? "you've got the serious part down, but if we don't play around a little, we're never gonna crack this."

you roll your eyes, but part of you can’t help but be intrigued. no one else on the team has been willing to entertain his unconventional methods, but somehow, his outlandish thoughts feel intuitive. right, almost.

and despite how chaotic he is, things start to come together. as the days pass, you find yourself drawn to the rhythm of his mind. he’s got this way of looking at things from every angle, as though solving a case is a game he’s not willing to lose. you can’t deny that his unorthodox approach is starting to make sense, especially when the results speak for themselves. it’s like his chaos brings clarity to your logic.

it all comes pouring out one night, when you find yourself alone in the office with him after hours, when everyone else has already gone home. he’s unusually silent, like he knows you need the silence for clarity of mind. you thank him - in your head, of course, because you’d rather die than admit you appreciate him.

"you know," you say finally, breaking the silence, "i thought you'd be the death of me when we started this case."

he looks up, and a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"but now you’re kinda starting to like me, huh? and that scares you?"

you make a face, refusing to admit it to him, but you both know the truth. it’s obvious you’ve warmed up to him, grown to appreciate his bizarre brilliance. because there’s something almost beautiful about the way he sees the world, and you think you might be seeing it, too.

"maybe," you say quietly, and though you don’t dare to say it aloud, a small part of you is slowly beginning to fall for him - not just for his methods, but for who you now know him to be.

bachira grins toothily. "knew it."

“not the part about me being scared, though.” you glare at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. but there’s a warmth in your chest now, one that you think might have been missing before.

finally, after weeks of hard work, it all clicks. bachira’s wild theories, your steady persistence, and a little bit of luck - together, you had cracked the code and closed the case. it wasn’t the suspect’s usual behavior that had given them away, but something subtle, something hiding in plain sight, just as bachira had suggested from the beginning. a small detail, overlooked by everyone else, had been staring you in the face the whole time.

"told you," bachira says, flashing his signature confident grin as you both stare at the final piece of evidence, relief washing over you like a gentle coastal wave. "sometimes you just gotta let your natural instincts do the work."

you can’t suppress your smile even if you try. he’s right, irrevocably so. it hadn’t been about following the rules, or sticking to the traditional methods - it had been about seeing things differently. and, somehow, in the process, you’d come to appreciate his way of thinking. even if you didn’t fully identify with or understand it.

he plops down in the chair across from you when you get back from ego's office, completely unbothered by the chaos still lingering in the room. he looks over at you, a serious expression replacing his usual playfulness. you stare back, curious.

"hey," he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual. "ego called me into his office today."

“oh? what did he tell you?”

“he told me about your application.”

oh, crap.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter. the feeling of his rejection stings just as much as the tears welling up in your eyes. “i shouldn’t have sent it in without asking you first.”

“i mean…” his voice trails off, and he looks at you almost tenderly. “i didn’t know you wanted me as your permanent investigation partner. it’s honestly a huge compliment.”

you let out a watery chuckle. “are you serious? rin itoshi wants to partner up with you. rin freaking itoshi.”

“but you’re the best,” he insists.

you swipe at your eyes quickly. “way to let me down easy, i guess. thanks for being nice about it, though.”

“who said i was declining?”

“wait - really?” you perk up, eyes widening. “you want to be my investigation partner?”

he nods silently, and you notice his hand is almost brushing yours. he hesitates, reaching out to take your hand. in a decision that horrifies you, you don’t stop him.

“i want to be a lot more than that.”

and you think you might just swoon with how undeniably serious he looks in this moment, and maybe laugh a little too. you raise an eyebrow in mock surprise, feigning ignorance. "whatever do you mean?"

he leans in a little closer, clearly amused. "how about dinner? jist you and me. i think it’s time i take you out - somewhere nice, y’know. somewhere with no crime scenes, no paperwork, just... us."

you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. he’s for real, isn’t he? and despite all your stubbornness, your initial reluctance to admit any kind of admiration for him, you realized you want this. you want him.

"bachira," you murmur, your voice a little softer than even you expected, "is this you asking me out on a date?"

he gasps dramatically, clutching his chest as though he’s been wounded. "what? i’m heartbroken! i thought we were already dating!"

you roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

"fine, meguru. take me out to dinner. but only because you solved the case, genius."

he grins triumphantly, "yes!" and then, with a gleam in his eyes, he adds, "it’s a date then, detective. i’ll be on my very best behavior. maybe."

as you both stand, gathering your things, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your heart at what is to come. tonight, and in the days ahead. maybe things aren’t as black-and-white as you once thought. and maybe, just maybe, you’ve discovered something between the two of you - worth more than solving any case.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

#phantasmaebg #phantasma ebg #kai writes #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #meguru bachira #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira onsehot #bachira fluff #i love bachira

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mrs-reid-hotchner · 3 months ago

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Request: Perhaps a little something of Sang-woo finding the reader after the players vote to end the games, before everyone returns? And he almost chickens out and doesn't approach them, but then they see him and run up to him? lowkey need him to have a soft moment, knowing what comes in those games *sobs*

Together in hell

Cho Sang-woo x reader

Summery: After the players vote to leave, reader sits on a park bench to calm their head. Sang-woo see’s them and is conflicted on what to do should he leave should he talk to them. While he’s sitting there thinking of what to do he hears his name and see’s you running over to him

Word count: 685

Tw: ooc maybe. I don’t know if I wrote his character right at all, mention of illness and death, idk if I missed something let me know

You're sitting on a bench thinking about everything, the game you just played and the people who died. The only reason your shaking body made it out alive. Is because you saw a guy hiding behind another man talking to a guy about staying behind people so the doll thing won’t see you moving, so you got behind him you hoped he wouldn’t notice thinking he’d move leaving you dead but when he saw you he didn’t he stayed in front of you till you both got to the finish line you thanked him when you guys got to the room that you woke up in and you both had a small conversation that’s how you learned his name Cho sang-woo and you told him yours, when it was time to vote you voted to leave and sang-woo voted to stay which upset you but you don’t know him all you know is he saved you and he’s been kind to you, he’s also very handsome and tall but you didn’t think of that much. Right now as you sit there you don’t realize sang-woo was nearby. Sang-woo was walking when he saw you and he froze, you looking at you hand clearly thinking about something. He remembers how you smiled at him when you both passed the line in red light green light and how softly you spoke when you thanked him but what he doesn’t understand is why you were there in that he’ll hole in the first place, he know you know why he was there it was broadcasted on that screen but he didn’t know how someone like you could end up in that place, maybe he could go ask you and talk to you but what if you didn’t want to talk to him or what if he scares you. His thoughts are a mess, as he stood there you look up and finally see him standing there frozen.

Before he could think anymore he hears your voice “Sang-woo! Sang-woo!” He looks over as you run over to him smiling “I didn’t think I’d see you again. Do you live close??” He softly smiles and nods “what about you?” You look up at him “kinda I just like the park” you walk back to the bench and tap the seat next to you and he sits down “well may I ask you a question mister?” He looks at you and nods “why did you want to stay?” He looked at you a pauses for a moment “I need the money to pay my debt I made some bad choices and to loans on my moms work and her house and I want to pay the debt that I put her place in” he looks down at the ground in shame and you put your hand on his shoulder “I bet you’ll get the money even if it means going back…” that makes him smile “what about you why where you in that hell hole in the first place” you look at him then look at the ground fidgeting with your fingers “my mother was ill and she ended up passing her medical bills are a lot of money and I haven’t had the money to pay them” he look at you and thinks for a moment, then he hugs you and you hug him back you both stay there for a moment just hugging he thinks of how small you are in his arms and he kept holding you till you let go “thank you I…I didn’t know I needed that” you stand up and write your number and a notepad you keep on you. “Here, so we can keep in touch sang-woo” you smile at him and hand him the paper, he looks down at your hand and takes your number “thank you” he smile and you both goes your separate ways, when he woke up back in the games he looked around he’s sees Gi-hun, ail and you and his faced drop. He decided he’s gonna try his best to keep you safe as much as he can.

Tagged

@pixiepipedreams

#cho sangwoo #cho sang woo #squid game x reader #squid games #Cho sang-woo #sang woo #sangwoo squid game #sang woo x reader #cho sang woo x reader #sang-woo

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starryylies · 1 year ago

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maybe this sounds a lil weird but could you pls write abt how all of the cod boys (including graves and köing) dating a female!reader WHO SUPER famous like taylor swift level famous.

thank youuuuu💝💝💝

TF141 + graves and könig with a super famous s/o

Hii ong thank u for the ask and sorry for responding late, i was busy :((

I hope it’s to your liking and your ask is awesome not weird dw I love it!

PRICE-

he definitely did not know you were famous when you both met.

Plans dates at home since it’s pretty much impossible for you both to go out

But when you do go out He is crazy protective of you and doesn’t let anyone approach you.

He once told gaz to take care of you when you had to go to the airport for your tour since he wasn’t around.

Proudly boasts about you to tf141.

Gets jealous when he sees younger actors and singers get close to you :(

Asked you to sign papers for the rest of tf141 esp soap.

Takes pictures of you when you’re at your concerts.

He’s definitely the type who puts away your phone when your mood gets sad after looking at some hurtful comment.

Rents an empty restaurant to have a date with you.

He bought all of your albums.

GAZ-

Okay so he’s a total fanboy, he totally knew about you before you guys met.

He fell in love with you the minute he saw you up close

You both met through price when you needed someone to escort you to a stadium safely since there were high risks of you getting hurt

Asked you to sign his album the day you met.

Totally knows all the lyrics to all your songs

Tells everyone his girlfriend is THE BEST SINGER in the entire world

Biggest cheerleader in your concerts.

Defends you on the internet whenever anyone says shit about you.

when you’re in an interview or meeting a fan he’d make sure they don’t make you uncomfortable.

Makes sure you’re safe whenever you guys go out.

He’s a very proud boyfriend :)

SIMON-

Knew who you were when you guys met because of soap but didn’t give a shit. :(

He had to be your bodyguard during your interview and whenever you went out.

Initially thought you’d be a brat but was proven wrong.

Slowly fell for you as he noticed you’re a very warm and genuine person

Is very protective of you

He takes his role of being a bodyguard very seriously and won’t let anyone near you

avoids paparazzi with his huge frame guarding you.

Asked you to sign 4 albums that soap had given him to make you sign.

Doesn’t like other men flirting with you.

Whenever he sees a man flirting with you he’d come behind you to scare them off. :3

Hates it when your back-dancers get too touchy with you.

He is very cautious with you and is lowkey hyper vigilant.

Would never let anything happen to you.

SOAP-

Okay just like gaz he’s a totallll fanboy

He used to have posters of you in his room

Had many pre existing fan pages of you and even blogs where he would post his thoughts on your songs.

Knows all of your tracks and has his own interpretations on your songs.

Will come with you to the backstage and give you a kiss before you go.

Is the type who will fight strangers on the internet if they dare say anything wrong about you.

Would have an Instagram dedicated to you and post your pics together

Will show you off whenever he gets a chance.

Would have candlelit dates with you at an empty park so you nobody can find you.

I s the type who gets jealous of other fanboys.

Takes you out to amusement park dates while you both wear ridiculous disguises. :D

KÖNIG-

This Hulk of a man is so bbg, he loves your songs and sings to them when he’s showering.

He loves hearing you sing for him

Had been a fan of yours since you had started out with your musical journey.

Doesn’t let any fanboy get near you

Gets insecure when he sees you with all your celebrity friends :(

Thinks he’s inadequate for you :((

Definitely walks behind you to scare everyone away.

Will not let any fan even get a picture with you.

Is your make believe bodyguard

He is surprised by why you chose him but he won’t want it any other way.

GRAVES-

Okay this man is so cocky when it comes to you

Definitely boasts about you to the shadow company

Takes you out to expensive restaurants and places just so others can see him with you

Purposely goes through the paparazzi with you so everyone knows you’re his.

Takes you with him to the shadow company just to show you off.

Has allotted men from the company to guard you.

Because of him you have an army of bodyguard’s surrounding you.

Comes with you backstage to see your perform.

Clicks candid pictures of you whenever you’re performing.

Makes you his profile picture everywhere.

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ransprang · 1 year ago

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thank you for the wait @auryborealis we hope you like your match up <3

if anyone else wants a personalized fic this is our ko-fi

your lotr match up is....

LEGOLAS!!!

SFW

How you met: You were wandering the forests of Mirkwood, attracted by the legends of elven magic surrounding the place. Your footsteps were featherlight, softer than the wind caressing the leaves under the twilight moon. You didn’t really think you would meet any elves but you were enjoying nature. Suddenly you realised you were being watched. You found yellow eyes staring at you. A grey wolf padded out of the darkness. You knelt before it, beckoning closer, strangely calmed by its presence. The wolf allowed you to ruffle its fur before jerking its head up when a masculine voice called out, “Humans aren’t meant to be here.” You turned to see Legolas, standing behind you. His weapons were still sheathed so you took it as a good sign. “It's beautiful here, isn't it? The legends hardly do it justice,” you spoke smilingly. Legolas turned his gaze toward the canopy above, his eyes alight with a spark of reverence. "Indeed, the magic of Mirkwood is as boundless as the stars in the night sky. Few mortals dare to tread these ancient paths," he replied. You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of kinship with the elf prince. You asked if you could visit the woods again, and Legolas agreed with some reluctance. He said the forest had deemed you worthy, and it would not be his place to deny you access. You returned the next night, after exchanging a few curt words with him. He wasn’t there that night, but he appeared the night after that. Like a mistrustful cat, he warmed up to you over time, and eventually fell for you.

Legolas appreciates your love of animals and nature. He grew up in forests, surrounded by wild animals and he likes how you aren’t scared of them.

Horror stories rarely faze Legolas but he likes how animated you get while telling them and listening to them. He would try to collect ghost stories from everyone in the fellowship to come and tell you. Gimli would have some good ones.

Legolas would love your sense of humor. He often enjoys some verbal repartee with his companions and he would like someone who can give as good as they get. He revels in every witty comeback or sarcastic remark you make. He even finds it amusing when you cuss out people who annoy you when they aren’t looking.

Legolas, like most elves, is a rampant bisexual and he would love your androgyny. Elves are androgynous creatures themselves so you would fit right in.

After you both fall in love, Legolas would be completely devoted to you since elves bond for life. His family would be against it given the fact that you are mortal and he is royalty but he is not the type of man to dismiss his feelings in fear of heartbreak.

When you both are among friends he likes to quietly listen alongside you with his enhanced hearing. He’ll whisper comments about the tea and gossip being spilt into your ear making you giggle. The group looks oddly at you both.

Legolas enjoys practicing his archery while you are nearby learning how to dual wield light-weight swords. He would see you practicing and ask to spar with you. You both would teach each other a few tips and tricks unique to your individual fighting styles.

Everyone in the fellowship is lowkey scared by the two of you considering how light on the feet you both are. You both have accidentally snuck up on all the hobbits and Gimli, giving them mini heart attacks.

Legolas would love it when you sing. When you think you are alone and are humming, he would quietly come and sit beside you to listen, careful not to alert you to his presence.

N/SFW

Being an enjoyer of nature, Legolas likes to partake in walking and swimming with you. When you both approach a river to swim in he respectfully watches you shed your layers of clothing. He admires your curves and the light shining on your body. He joins you in being naked, already semi-hard and enjoys bathing with you. He hugs you from behind, letting his hands wander from your stomach to your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Legolas is quick to catch onto your people pleasing personality. He reminds you many times to not force yourself to do something for him unless you want to. You can reassure him by giving him head randomly, he’s always clean, don't worry ;)

When he goes down on you his hands go up your thighs as he slowly kisses the inner flesh. Legolas makes intense eye contact with you as he gets closer to your throbbing pussy hole. Tantalisingly he licks and sucks on your folds. He likes making you lose your cool and let out a slew of curses, so he takes his time to work you up.

It always starts with warm cuddles and spooning on a bedroll after the fellowship sleeps. Legolas loves being the big spoon, holding you close to him protectively, but the longer your hips push into his groin, the more heated he gets. He starts dry humping his hard cock against you, breathing heavily.

Legolas likes to keep his pace slow and steady, eventually catching speed. He almost loses control, and doesn't stop till he cums inside of you. He would always finish inside of you, just the thought of a creampie brings him closer to the edge.

He likes nipple play, flicking your breast and sucking on them while you straddle him and ride his cock. Also, when you lick his nipples while stroking his cock he gets so turned on. He never understood why, but he always felt comfortable sexually expressing himself in front of you.

If Legolas gets too close too soon, he likes to get edged. It's his little punishment for not being patient with you and losing control. He would moan and groan as you touch him, and would only allow himself to cum when he thinks you're close too.

He moans words in Sindarin, and looks at you smiling observing your confused expression before leaning in for a kiss as he's thrusting in missionary position.

He would carry your naked form up in his arms bridal style and take you with him on the secluded balcony to watch the stars with him, while he holds you close to him.

Legolas likes to play with your fingers, entangling his with yours after sex. Laying there just staring into your deep brown eyes, realizing how much he loves you.

your night owls,

admins sar, san & sav

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scvrgrl · 3 months ago

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strawhat crew modern!au headcanons

a/n: as someone who recently graduated from high school, there are lots of categories of people/tropes that i can see some of the strawhats falling into if they attended high school in modern times! soooo here are some completely unserious and random modern!au headcanons that i came up with!

THIS IS ALL SATIRE AND FOR FUN!!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

LUFFY

never wears actual shoes, strictly crocs and slides

he loveeees the pajama pants/hoodie/tank top combo, it’s a staple fit (nami gets on him and wants to wear “real clothes”)

lowkey a cart demon 😭😭😭 but only during his freshman and sophomore year (jr and senior year he locked in thanks to ace’s influence)

being a cart demon made him fail most, if not all, his classes during the first two years (he ended up in credit recovery and graduated by the skin of his teeth)

never has a pencil and will ask you for one before class starts

his pens are chewed up and dry

HE GOT CHICKEN SCRATCH ASS HANDWRITING

loves school lunch and makes his friends use their lunch codes to get seconds and thirds

not afraid to ask a random for their lunch code to get more food

backpack is a tattered, beat up jansport bag that hangs on by two threads (an ace hand-me-down), has no actual school supplies just crumbs and crumpled up worksheets

usopp definitely posted something adjacent to this on his instagram close friends about the state of luffy’s backpack

as a recovering cart demon, luffy got hooked on geek bars (courtesy to sanji) and will ONLY get the sweet flavors

always offers a hit to sanji (he refuses)

**L.A. KID NICHE** he’s on lots of girl’s spams but isn’t interested in any of them (lowkey a red flag for any girls actually interested in him)

ZORO

a relatively good student, put in enough effort to have good grades but never took honors/AP courses

doesn’t ever mention his grades or studying, just shows up and takes the exam (does surprisingly well)

is very reserved and only ever socializes with his friend group

gets SOOOO many girls, but they’re too scared to approach/confess to him

only follows back girls he knows (aka nami, robin, perona, etc), will not go out of his way to follow any girls’ spams

isn’t entirely interested in social media, occasionally will scroll on insta reels (usopp and luffy begged him to get tiktok and he would not cave)

has good penmanship, cannot read to save his life

definitely wears reeboks that he’s had all throughout high school, luffy and usopp tear his ass up for it 😭💔

got his license as soon as he could (16), will drive himself and only himself to school

lots of people beg him for rides and he asks that you give him gas money (will give free rides only if they really need it, mainly for his homegirls)

will hustle you for gas money (nami refuses to pay and will give him gum instead)

SANJI

LOVESSSSS HIS GEEKBAR (but is strictly a cool mint enjoyer, none of that sweet shit cause it gives him a headache and makes him feel like a bitch😭)

everyone’s chauffeur and drives a huge white mom van with the sliding door (the crew fits in nice and snug so it works out)

never charges nami or robin for rides, but will over charge the guys for gas money

style is heavily influenced by tyler the creator, styles polos and dress shirts with baggy jeans/shorts with loafers

smells goodddduhhhhh cause he’s a cologne connoisseur, no matter the occasion

an AP/honors student but will struggle from time to time (receives a C here and there but not afraid to ask his teachers for extra cred opportunities)

has okay penmanship, nothing too extra

had a girlfriend during his sophomore year but they had a bad break up, still not over her years later

follows a lot of girls from school (which appears as a huge red flag) — the girl-to-guy ratio in his following his concerning and nami makes fun of him for it

has lots of situationships but they never last, feels bad so he still talks to them but usually leads them on (can’t get over his ex)

USOPP

is HILARIOUS, which strangely attracts lots of girls (sanji doesn’t understand the hype)

first in the friend group to have a spam, everyone followed suit after (he wanted the followers)

everyone wants to be on his spam/cf for the funny content, but will occasionally post an aesthetic photo dump

wears athletic gear (lots of tracksuits and slides — doesn’t put much effort into his outfits)

will bust out the graphic tee/baggy jeans combo once in a blue moon and it looks fire

your average class clown

his grades are average (C’s and some D’s), was in credit recovery once for a class during his senior year (didn’t bother showing up)

smokes strictly bud, will only hit luffy’s cart if he’s feining

will hit peoples geek bars on occasion, usually at a function when people pass it around to look cool

has chicken scratch handwriting but is more legible than luffy’s

NAMI

she’s in her own little world, luffy and usopp have to explain brainrot to her or else she’ll never understand their references

definitely touches up her makeup in class, her lip combo is NEVER off

treats school like a fashion show, her fits NEVER disappoint and is always receiving compliments

HYGIENE ON 10!!! always smells delicious but will lowkey gatekeep her perfume

always has gum and hand sanitizer (the cute ones from bath and body ofc)

took honors courses and the occasional AP course (only for the GPA boost)

her grades consist of As and Bs (she did get one C but she was able to negotiate with her teachers)

best friends with all her teachers, always spends lunch with them and asks them about their day

has amazing penmanship and lovessss writing in cursive

she don’t play about her snapchat streaks but will only use snap for that — no guys getting snaps but her friends

mainly posts on her insta story and has sooo many highlights (friends, food, fits, herself, you name it)

doesn’t have a spam but is a close friends warrior

doesn’t have a roster but will entertain guys occasionally (doesn’t actually care to have a boyfriend)

many people are surprised that she is a party girl/lovesss her liquor

not huge on tiktok brainrot but is surprisingly well-versed in lolcow lore (ash trevino, tophiachu, daniel larson, etc.)

films tiktok grwm’s and has gained some popularity from it

ROBIN

very involved in school activities (extracurriculars, on the women’s track and field team, etc.)

takes all AP classes but does it cause she genuinely enjoys the rigor and workload

has never touched a drug in her life but she would never judge her friends for it

HAD AN EMO PHASE!! grew out of it but parts of it stayed with her

the tutor of the friend group (mainly usopp and luffy will be the ones to ask for help — complain when she gives them “homework”)

never had huzz and will have the same boyfriend for years at a time (very committed to her relationships)

has social media but is never active on it (you can only reach her through text messages)

phone always on dnd tho so good luck 😭🕊️

LUFFY & USOPP

these two are completely inseparable, always sitting together when there’s no seating chart (always end up being separated anyway)

definitely participated in the “devious licks” trend and had a competition on who could steal the most obscure items (luffy stole a bathroom sink and got suspended)

they’re the type of kids who never cared to learn the last names of their teachers so they strictly call them “miss” or “mister”

ended up on peoples close friends for doing random, stupid shit

they’re the type to pick on the kids who can’t read (zoro) for popcorn reading OR will pick on each other cause they know they can’t read either

INSTAGRAM REEL AND TIKTOK DEMONS (not afraid to show you the brainrot that consumes their feed, expects you to be on their level of humor)

participated in axe bombing the locker rooms after PE

everyone wants to be their friend, which is why they have lots of followers on their socials

luffy is more likely to get down for you/protect you at a function, but he’s gotta be there when something goes down or he’ll miss it completely

usopp, on the other hand, will not 😭😭😭 but he will console you

SANJI & ZORO

will pick on each other and get into heated arguments in the group chat (makes it a little awkward at first but will eventually make up by asking each other to hop on a video game)

the fighting in the group chat scares luffy so he sends this photo

had a bit of an academic rivalry after sanji found out that zoro is actually an exceptional student

sanji will reluctantly give zoro rides to the functions — makes him cover nami and robin's share of the gas money

not the best of friends but will get along for the sake of everyone else

will share a good moment or two once in a while, usually when they’re out and having fun with the whole group

the two of them would DEFINITELY have your back at a function — making sure you’re safe, watching your back, will get down for you if needed no matter what

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆

hope you guys enjoyed! lmk what you wanna see next ;)

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solaiced · 6 months ago

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CASE 15: I ACCEPT ANY FORM OF FUSHIGURO TOJI.

!content!: vampire-werewolf toji, toji reads your mind, fast paced (kinda rushed sowwy), werewolf sex, knots, mentions of breeding (can't help myself...) and is it stockholm syndrome if you're lowkey into it?

wc:3.2k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A vast forest spreads before you, dark and grimy. It smells like stale air, in contrast to what it smelled like before your friends dared you to go in it in the middle of the night, with only a camera, a flashlight, and fishsticks. Why fishsticks? Because everyone loves those, so you can trade that for your life.

"Come on! It's really not that scary!" One of your friends, Kizumi, pushed you forward, you stumble and the others chuckle, amused at the danger they're going to put you in.

"Girl," you glare at her. "What's scary is your unblended contour." The others gasp, shocked you even fought back.

"Just go!" One of them says, you associated that person with Aya. "There's no one, trust us." She assures, walking to you and placing her hand on your shoulder. It brought you a sense of comfort that someone in the group cared to reassure you.

She smiles, ushering you towards the dark path, "Don't worry about the batteries in the flashlight–I put new ones just in case!" You smile back, confident enough to walk to where the trees followed the grassless, earthly path.

Everyone bid you a good luck, all giggling at the videos you're about to film. They all camped at the start of the way; lighting a fire to make sure you knew where to go to go home.

As you ventured deeper, the memories of your friends' tips and tricks evaporated from your mind, long forgotten by the overwhelming sense of unease coursing through your blood. Flip flops were definitely not the best choice for an adventure like this one.

All of a sudden, you hear growling, feel eyes on your body and smell blood. Your mind was playing tricks on you, trying to lead you away.

But braveness (or stupidity) kept you going. The growling became just another background noise, your ears buzzing too much to

concentrate.

An out of place 'crack' behind makes you drop the camera you'd been holding this whole time. Force your spine, they said. That's what you do. You bend down, putting the flashlight down to search for the fallen object.

When you finally grab it, you barely have a hold of your light before it’s snatched away from your hand, eliciting a sharp gasp.

A click resonates in the air, the light going out and plunging you into pitch black darkness. You couldn't move or make a sound, fear response rendering it impossible.

Just then, your mind registers that the growling had ceased, making the forest even quieter than before. The insects didn't dare make a sound, fearing the predator near. Said predator obviously behind or in front of you, because there’s no wind strong enough to grab a flashlight and click it off with such ease, lest it would have blown you, too,

away. Leaves crunch under invisible feet, walking towards you.

Your flight-or-fight instinct kicked in, making you step back, turn around, and run the way you just came from. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, keeping your energy output high but steady. At the same time, a cackle scares the birds out of their trees, fast steps approaching rapidly behind you.

Tears gather in your eyes, blurring your vision and making you stumble momentarily. You'll blame your friends. You didn't want to die, what even is the thing chasing you?

"Little woman... "A deep voice drawls from behind you. Its tone is honeyed, like luring a small animal in. Something caresses your cheek, a breath, a hair, or an insect.

Fuck, you didn't know, but it was terrifying. Thank God for thinking of emptying your bladder earlier, or else you would’ve pissed yourself from how scared you were.

“Stop runnin’,” the voice orders,

you could hear a tired undertone to it, like it was sick of your running.

"I won't harm ya, physically.” It promises, almost purring. There's a breeze next to you, unlike the wind you were producing on your own.

Locking to the side, you see a figure, much bigger than you. This is it, you think, slowing down because you were tired, the adrenaline having consumed more energy than helped.

There was no way out of this. The figure reaches out, grabbing you and pulling you towards it. It lifts you up, carrying you and you scream, trying to get away. It shushes you, somewhat

softly.

Fuck. You hope it kills you

before eating you, because, as the darkness lets the moonlight shine through the tree leaves, you see rows of sharp teeth in front of your face.

It, or should you say, he, smiles,

"Hello, my girl.” It–he cackles when you whimper in fear.

"Don't be afraid, I've got you, now. And I'll always have you until we die." The monster walks deeper into the woods, carrying you with him. You're too scared to fight back, especially with this big of a man.

"What do you want from me?" You feel tears flowing down your cheeks when you blink. He coos and wipes them, licking his thumb

when he gathers enough.

"Your soul. No, I want you, all of It. Your body, mainly your love.

Because you're mine." He chuckles, pecking your cheek and you shiver in disgust, unable to move away.

"We're home." You look behind you, wondering what he meant.

Behind you is a ruined shack, covered in vines.

He waves a hand towards it, "It's better inside, I just made sure it looked haunted, since I don't want trespassers." He places you down, still holding your hand just in case.

“Come on,” Pulling you with him, he opens a door and switches on the lights. The interior is nicer, he hadn't lied. The couch was en earthlygreen, placed in frontof an unlit fireplace, surrounded by bookshelves over filled with disordered books.

You stiffle a sob, looking down at the carpetted floor. He worriedly lifts your chin, craddling your face.

"Don't cry. Y’er going to be fine"

"Let me go." You order waterily.

"No. I want you." He straightens, locking the door.

"What even… Why?" Eyes shining with tears, pleading with this monster of a man. Seeing him in full was devastating, dark hair that fell barely over his shoulders, green eyes that appeared almost grey as they glare daggers at you.

He wore sweatpants of the same color, but darker shade, probably to blend in with the bushes, and a black compression shirt that had no reason to be highlighting all of his hard musches. He smirks at your scrutiny, crossing his arms.

"Enjoy the view?" He asks, only then, do you notice a small scar in the corner of his mouth, like a knife had ripped the seam of his lips open. Scars had so many stories, and a small, stupid part of you wonders how he got it.

"No. I was just thinking of how pathetically ugly (no, he wasn't, liar) you are, and how pitiful it is to kidnap a girl because you can't get pussy on your own." Boom. Roasted. Knowing men's egos, you would probably get killed, but at least you went out with fire and style.

Oh, but all he does is chuckle, sauntering towards you. And you've never felt so terrified.

"If you thought that hurt my ego, think again," Had he read your mind? "Yeah, I can." He tilts his head as you step back, cold sweat dripping down your back. How did he ...

"How? I'm a vampire and a werewolf, lovey, that's my thing. I've got unimaginable shit and I'll kill if you ask me to. Poor you. Had no real chance from the very beginning." You swallow nervously at his mocking tone. Was this it? Dying in a monster’s hut in the middle of nowhere? You curse your "friends".

"I can't believe y’er own friends left you here. Alone." He coos, pouting and mocking you. This little...!

"Oh, I'm not little. You are, though.

I could just eat ya." That struck fear in you, freezing in place as he strokes your cheek.

You were too cute, he thought. Trying to act all brave, but staying in place the immediate moment you sense danger.

You bark out a laugh, hiding your fear, "That thing is." Finger pointed at his crotch, you mock him just as he had, sputtering when he slams you against the wall. The whole house shook, like you had.

"Wanna find out, hm?" He growls, mouth next to your ear. Once more, you swallow, feeling your whole face flush.

"Oh? You do? No need to lie, lovey." He lift a strand of hair that had fallen down from your pony tail, which was very loose, now.

You shake your head, attempting to deny the obvious.

Because, who didn't? He was handsome, albeit crazy, who wasn't curious, seriously? He pulls away.

"No, seriously, who wouldn't want to see my dick?" He puts a hand on your hip. "Wrap y’er legs around me." He orders

as his hands go under your thighs to support your weight. You comply. Hey, a hot man just told you that he was gonna fuck you, and he’s too big to even fight back, obviously you were going to obey.

"Very good girl. " He smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, smiling. Eugh...?

"Hey, wait..." You start, both hands on each of his shoulders. "What.. I don't even know your name?"

"Oh." He opens a door with his foot. "Fushiguro Toji. Formely Zenin." He mentions casually.

You don't need to answer with yours, because he read your mind and repeated it, smiling. It sounded nice on his tongue: Why were you so down-bad?!

And what did he mean, "formerly"?

"That's for another time, woman."

Toji places you on his bed.

It was so soft... You turn, nuzzling your face into the bed. Also because you didn’t want to see him. He was scary, if you were being honest.

"One day, you'll do that to me, too." The man behind you, hands on your hips, snickers.

You turn your head, "One day, I'll stab you until you die." You threaten, pushing your ass against Toji’s half-hard crotch. Was he commando down there?

"News flash, I’m stronger than you. Also, you know damn well you want me, and that's not a threat from you."

From you? What did he mean?

“It means I don't mind dying again if it means that you're the one killing me." He slaps your ass lightly.

"So romantic." You roll your eyes.

“And we just met.” He looks way too smug, right now.

"Well, you just met me. I met you a long time ago." Again, he confuses you. What more nonsense did he spew?

"You don’t notice when someone watches you." Is all he said before he rips, yes, rips off your leggings.

"You bastard! Stop doing that!" You yell, covering what was left of your shredded dignity (your panties).

"How else do I take them off, woman?" Toji groans, crossing his bulky arms (that you wanted to chew and drool on like a mutt).

"Take it off, normally.” You hold yourself up with your elbows.

He grunts again, kissing his teeth like he was the one who should be annoyed. "How was I supposed to know? I thought you wanted that." He’s too smug. But he wasn't wrong. You had thought about it.

"I'm never wrong about you." He adds, kissing down the column of your throat.

A little moan involuntarily escapes your mouth, eyes closed to lessen the embarrassment.

"Don't worry, I don't judge. In fact, moan as loud as you can. Scream my name. Fuck, I don’t even care, tell me your weirdest fantasy and I swear I’ll fulfill them." Toji promises, cupping your ass as he retreats, slipping your panties down slowly, you get goosebumps from it.

Shuddering, you turn and glare at him. A little part of you asked if he had a real form, because anything other this hunk of a man would be better. If you looked at him, you might get attached. Handsome as he is.

He looked confused at your earlier squirming, were you stressed? And then, he read your mind. Dug into your deepest, darkest fantasies.

"You think I have a real form?" The man laughed. "That's cute. But, this is my real form. If you want to fuck something unconventionally attractive, since you don’t want to see me…I'll make sure you will. Eyes closed." He covers your eyes with a large hand, angling your head to face away from him. Slowly, his hand's texture changes. His once calloused hand becomes just a tiny bit softer, but fuzzier.

When your vision returns, you immediately flip over, eyes widening at the figure. Before you stood a version of Toji. A werewolf version. You think you'd soak through your panties, had they not been removed. The sheets were probably wet from your arousal.

Sharp canines replaced Toji's straight teeth, his eyes sharper, greener, and more vivid. His arms had more... fur? Than skin. His ears were pointier, with more fur, and… was that a tail? Holy shit. When his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, you realise it was longer.

Fucking hell, you want it down your throat. Oh, wait. He probably read your mind. Well, fuck. He prowls toward you, smirking like the smuggest man ever alive. He's so annoying!

"You want my tongue down your throat? Ya gotta ask out loud, lovey." Toji bends down to be eye-to-eye with you.

"You’d have to slit my fucking throat if you want me to even beg for anything from you." You snarl while the werewolf smiles, sharp teeth glinting in the light. How he loved your attitude.

"We'll see about that." Stubborn bitch, he thought, pushing you flat on the bed.

——————

You were so dying. If you weren't, Why were you feeling like this? like God himself snatched your soul from your body. Just as your vision begins to spot with back dots, Toji's hand moves away, no longer crushing your throat.

You blink away the tears clouding your vision and look up at this monster-god. He thrusts into you, smirking at your little gasps for air.

“Are you okay?" He pouts mockingly, cooing at you suddenly choking, hand on the pillow beneath you and on your hip, grip so harsh, you felt a bruise forming in the shape of his hand. The man's own hips couldn't help but jerk, your sweet cunt's walls almost massaging the cum out of his cock.

"I'm fine." You gargle when he begins to choke you again, hand off your hip. Toji slams into you once more, and again, and again - it's too much. If he kept going, you were gonna—

"Cum?" He repeats, punishing thrusts becoming full-on torturous when his fat tip bulges through your stomach. His tail was wagging nonstop, too excited to be still.

You'd taken his knot a couple times, now. There's no Plan B to use, because it would be a waste of money. He'd completely breeded you. A small, freaky part of you found this... hot.

"Ffuck yeah, I'll fill you up with brats, and then you won't be able to leave, huh? You're not gonna leave, right?" Toji hums, baring his teeth like a warning and his ears twitched. The way his tip was hammering inside of you and hitting your deepest parts made your hands clench the sheets beneath you.

"Answer me, bitch. You gon' stay, or nah?" He tightens his grasp on your neck, as if he was trying to recreate how tightly you were wrapped around him. Claws digging into your skin…Oh, fuck, answer!

"Y-yes, yes! Toji, uhn!-" You whine, eyes rolling so far into your skull that you fear they may get stuck.

"Good fuckin' girl. You–ngh–bet your ass... if I find out yer lying, you bet yer ass I fuck you until your bones break." Toji's words strike fear in you, making you flutter wildly around him.

The monster disguised as a man releases your abused throat, pink coating the skin due to the force he had gripped you. His thrusts were wild now, hips snapping forward erratically, balls, heavy with unspilled cum, ready to breed you, smacking your ass.

You can already feel Toji's knot at the base of his cock, and that excites you to no end. You squirm, body unable to decide if it wants to get away or have more. The tantalizing plaps of wet flesh smacking eachother was so loud, paired with the thumps of his tail on the bed, you'd think they resounded in the woods outside.

Luckily, thoughts were erradicated the moment Toji pushed his bulbous tip in and out of your greedy pussy. You weren't the only one struggling to keep composure, though. Your hazy vision cleared just enough to be able to see the man’s scrunched up face.

Sweat covered his skin, which was also littered with scars like the one on his mouth, but worse. His bulging muscles that twitched at the same time as his pulsing cock, it made you insane with lust.

“What’re you waitin’ for? Rub that pretty clit for me.” Your monster orders, which kicks you into action, getting to work immediately.

Shaky, uncoordinated fingers come to rub the sensitive, red nub, abused by the unruly hair on Toji's pubic area.

He groans, balls tightening up, knot inflating in preparation to stuff your warm pussy, and paint her walls a pretty shade of white with his cum.

"Fuck... This 's... ugh, the tightest pussy ever. Hgk-! I'll make you loose, yeah? So that you wan't feel good for any other man except for me." He emphasizes the last words with mind numbing thrusts as you throw yourself over the edge with the most unexpected orgasm since Toji ate you out a few… hours? ago.

He moans deeply, breath coming out in short puffs. He looks down at you, green eyes filled with lust and something deeper, scarier. Like love. (But that’s impossible because you just met!)

"You gonna take the knot again?. Take all my fucking babies, hm?" He grunts, shutting his eyes as he pops the engorged knot inside of you, making you squeal in surprise. Your earlier orgasm had made you too sensitive to all movements he made inside of you.

The monster lets out a small, almost indiscernable whimper and cums, overfilling you until your stomach was slightly disented from the amount of semen sloshing around inside.

You felt nothing but Toji for a while, not even noticing your quivering hands in his messy black hair to pull him closer. Maybe to kiss him.

You pucker your lips, ready for a post-orgasmic romantic kiss. But he turns his head away.

"You didn't beg. " The green eyed monster grumbles, as if he was mad about his own teasing. It's obvious he wanted to.

"Please... Toji..." you whine petulantly, legs still wrapped around his waist and hands clutching his hair tightly.

"Not enough." He says gruffly, a wicked grin painting his features.

"Please kiss me, my big, bad, sweetest werewolf vamps." you beg sweetly, bursting out laughing at his wide eyes and disgusted face.

"I don't know what the fuck you just said, but that... Never say that shit again. "Toji straightens, sitting on his calves. He brings you up with him, strong arms craddling you gently.

"But, can I have your tongue down–mfph!" You were cut off by your monster's lips pressed against yours, tongue slipping discreetly into your mouth. God, he can't wait to fuck you, again, and have you take all of his pups and fuck you in his human form.

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