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mugglebornmarvelite · 6 months ago

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Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning.

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm.

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home.

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway.

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic.

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall.

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound.

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall.

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything.

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky.

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

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starsenha · 1 year ago

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COLLAB STAGE / Y.J

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!idol!reader x dom!idol!jungwon (ft. Lesserafim Yunjin)

Genre ◊ SMUT, fluff

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), harddom!jungwon, hair pulling, fingering, oral (m. receiving), semi-public sex, overstimulation, rough, slight dacryphilia, mirror sex, aftercare, dry humping, petnames (sweetheart, baby...), reader is a year older than jungwon (so he calls her noona)

Word count ◊ 6.7k

Summary ◊ You and Jungwon were friends since your trainee days, you've always seen him as a little brother, until this collaboration you had to with him for your Summer Gayo Daejeon performance

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You stepped out of the sleek, black car provided by Hybe Entertainment, the cool morning air brushing against your face as you headed toward the familiar studio entrance. The tall building loomed above you, your company logo glinting in the sunlight. As you entered the lobby, you were greeted by the usual bustle of staff and trainees, everyone busy with their own schedules.

“Good morning!” you called out to a few familiar faces, receiving nods and smiles in return. The anticipation bubbled in your chest as you reached the designated practice room. Today was pretty special. The CEO had chosen you to do a collaboration stage with a member of Enhypen for the upcoming SBS Gayo Daejeon performance. And you were so happy that that member was Jungwon. You used to train together back in the day. He was only a year younger than you, and you were always pretty close. Plus, your groups debuted around the same time. But, what you did not know, was that Jungwon always kinda had a crush on you, and he’s been trying to make you see him differently for months now.

Pushing open the door to the studio, you saw him already there, stretching on the floor. His eyes lit up when he noticed you, and he jumped to his feet with a wide grin.

“Noona!” Jungwon called out, his youthful enthusiasm infectious.

“Won! You’re here early,” you said, smiling back as you dropped your bag on the bench and joined him in stretching.

“I was too excited to sleep much,” he admitted with a chuckle. “This is going to be so much fun. I can’t believe we finally get to do this.”

“I know! I’ve been looking forward to it too,” you replied. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to work on something together.”

As you both chatted and caught up, the door swung open again, and the choreographer, Ji-eun, walked in. She was a renowned figure in the industry, known for her intricate and dynamic hip-hop routines. You had already worked with her, as she created the choreography for your group’s last comeback.

“Good morning, everyone!” Ji-eun greeted, her energy palpable. “Are you two ready to work?”

“Yes!” you and Jungwon responded in unison, exchanging amused glances.

Ji-eun clapped her hands together, signaling the start of the session. “Great. Let’s get started with the basics of the routine. It’s a hip-hop piece with a lot of sharp movements and synchronization. I need you both to bring your A-game.”

You and Jungwon nodded, focusing as Ji-eun demonstrated the initial steps. The beat of the music pulsed through the room, and you found yourself getting lost in the rhythm. Jungwon mirrored your movements perfectly, his natural talent shining through.

“Good, good! Now, let’s add some more complexity,” Ji-eun said, moving into the next sequence. The steps were fast and challenging, requiring both agility and precision.

As the session progressed, Ji-eun occasionally stopped to give pointers, adjusting your posture or tweaking a movement here and there. The routine was demanding, but you relished the challenge. You and Jungwon fell into an easy rhythm, your movements syncing effortlessly.

“Perfect! That’s what I’m talking about,” Ji-eun praised after another run-through. “You two have great chemistry. This stage is going to be amazing.”

Jungwon grinned at you, wiping sweat from his brow with his towel. “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

“We always have,” you agreed, returning his smile. “Remember those practice sessions back when we were trainees? We were always trying to outdo each other.”

“Yeah, and you always won,” he laughed, a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Not always,” you corrected him. “But most of the time, yes.”

You saw Jungwon roll his eyes playfully and open his mouth to retort, but Ji-eun called for another run-through. You threw yourself back into the routine, your body moving instinctively to the beat.

An hour and a half flew by in a blur of music and movement. By the time Ji-eun finally called for a break, you were both exhausted but exhilarated.

“Take fifteen, and then we’ll do a full run-through with the music,” Ji-eun instructed, heading out to take a call.

You collapsed onto the floor, stretching out your legs. Jungwon flopped down beside you, panting lightly.

“This is going to be epic,” he said between breaths.

“Definitely,” you agreed. “We’ll show everyone what Jokerz and Enhypen can do together.”

Jungwon’s expression softened as he looked at you, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Ji-eun returned to the studio and gave you both some final pointers before she left you to rehearse on your own. The studio was buzzing with the high-energy choreography you had been perfecting all morning.

“Okay, you two, I think you’ve got a good handle on this,” Ji-eun said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll leave you to practice on your own for a bit. Just remember to keep the energy up and stay in sync.”

“Got it!” you and Jungwon chorused, both of you giving her a confident nod.

As Ji-eun left the room, you turned to Jungwon with a grin. “So, ready to run it again?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with determination.

You both got into position, and the music started up again. This time, without Ji-eun’s watchful eye, you found yourselves more relaxed, allowing your natural chemistry to shine through. Your movements were fluid and synchronized, feeding off each other’s energy.

“Nice move there, wonnie!” you called out mid-routine as he nailed a particularly tricky step.

“Thanks, noona! You’re killing it too!” he shot back, his smile wide.

After a few more run-throughs, you both paused for a break. You went to take your water bottle in the corner of the room, trying to do some air with your hand.

At the corner of your eye, you saw Jungwon pulled off his hoodie, revealing a tank top underneath. You blinked, momentarily taken aback. You had always seen Jungwon as a little brother figure, but seeing the definition of his muscles was… he was so hot. You tried to ignore the unexpected flutter in your stomach as you took a sip of water. As he took his own water bottle, you watched him discretly, a pool forming in your belly.

“Uh… you’ve been working out lately?” you said, attempting to keep your tone casual.

He glanced down at himself, then back at you with a casual shrug. “Oh, this? Yeah, I sometimes work out with the hyungs. Gotta stay in shape, you know?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the conversation and not how his tank top clung to his frame. Wow, this was new. “Makes sense. It’s just… I guess I never noticed before.”

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he caught the slight flush on your cheeks. “Noona, are you blushing?” he teased, flexing his arm a bit more prominently.

Your face heated up even more as you sputtered, “N-no! I’m just… it’s hot in here, that’s all.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Determined to shift the focus, you stood up and stretched. “Let’s get back to it. We’ve got to nail this routine.”

Jungwon chuckled, following your lead. “Alright, let’s do it. But don’t think I didn’t notice, noona. You were totally checking me out.”

You shot him a mock glare, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “Focus, won. We’ve got a show to prepare for.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, still grinning. “I’m focused, don’t worry,’’ his grin transformed into a cocky smirk as he put his hands into the pockets of his gray sweatpants and walked up to you.

As the music started up again, you threw yourself into the routine, trying to push aside the newfound awareness of Jungwon. But every now and then, you caught him glancing your way, that same smirk still on his lips. It was clear he enjoyed seeing you flustered, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long and exhausting practice session, you finally made your way back to your dorm. As you opened the door, you were greeted by the familiar sight of one of your bandmate, Yunjin, lounging on the couch with her phone in hand.

“Yay, you’re back!” she exclaimed, looking up from her screen. “How was the practice with Jungwon?”

You sighed, dropping your bag by the door and collapsing onto the couch beside her. “It was… something.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What happened?”

You hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Well, you know how I’ve always seen him as a little brother, right?”

“Yeah, of course. You’ve mentioned it a million times,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.

“Okay, so today, we were practicing this really tough hip-hop routine for Gayo Daejeon,” you began. “And Ji-eun left us alone to rehearse on our own for a bit.”

“Uh-huh, go on,” she encouraged, leaning in closer.

“Well, Jungwon took off his hoodie because it was getting hot in the studio,” you continued, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory. “And he was wearing this, like, tank top underneath. I had no idea he was that… fit.”

Yunjin’s eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. “Oh my God, you got flustered, didn’t you?”

“I mean…a little,” you admitted, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just, I’ve always seen him as this cute younger brother or something. But today, he looked… argh.”

“Different how?” she pressed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sighed, finally giving in. “He looked… so, so hot. I couldn’t stop staring, and he totally noticed!”

She laughed even harder, clutching her stomach. “This is priceless! Our ynnie has a crush on Jungwon!”

“It’s not like that!” you protested, though your blush betrayed you. “I was just… surprised. I didn’t expect him to have grown up so much.”

“Oh, sure,” she said, still giggling.

“Stop teasing me, Unnie,” you groaned, playfully shoving her. “I’m just trying to process it. I mean, he’s always been like a brother to me, and now suddenly, he’s this attractive guy. How did that even happen?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad,” Yunjin teased, nudging you with her elbow. “But seriously, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s time to see him in a new light.”

You sighed, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t know. It’s just… really confusing. I’ve always been so sure of our dynamic, and now it feels like everything’s shifted. It doesn’t feel…platonic anymore.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Feelings can be complicated, especially when someone you’ve known for a long time changes. Just take it one step at a time and see where things go.”

“Thanks, Unnie,” you said, grateful for her understanding. “I guess I’ll just have to see how things play out during this collaboration.”

“It’s just a week and a half away, you’ll be fine. And in the meantime, try not to get too distracted by his muscles,” Hana added with a wink, causing you to throw a pillow in her direction, one she dodged as she got up from the couch and sprinted to the kitchen.

“I hate you,” you said, loud enough so she could hear you.

As the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but replay the events of the day in your mind. Seeing Jungwon in a new light was certainly unexpected, but maybe Hana was right.

The next day, you arrived at the practice studio a bit early, hoping to get some stretches in before Jungwon showed up. As you rolled out your yoga mat and began your stretches, the door opened, and Jungwon walked in, his demeanor radiating confidence.

"Morning, noona," Jungwon greeted you with a charming smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Morning, wonnie," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "Ready for today?"

"Absolutely," he said, dropping his bag and joining you on the floor. He started stretching beside you, his movements fluid and relaxed.

You chuckled nervously. "We need to nail this routine."

As you both warmed up, the studio felt smaller, the air charged with an unspoken tension. Jungwon seemed more confident, and his movements were more assured. And you couldn’t help but feel turned on by his confidence. Focus, yn. Stop thinking about that. When you began practicing the routine, his eyes never left you, making you hyper-aware of his presence.

“Alright, let’s take it from the top,” you said, hoping to focus on the choreography and not on the way his tank top accentuated his toned arms. Of course, he had to wear a tank top again. A white one this time.

The music started, and you moved in sync, your bodies effortlessly flowing through the steps. But every time Jungwon’s eyes met yours, you felt your concentration waver. He seemed to notice, and his smirk grew more pronounced.

“Come on, noona, keep up,” he teased, executing a particularly sharp move with ease.

“I’m keeping up just fine,” you shot back, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

As the routine progressed, Jungwon's playful teasing only intensified. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to mirror each other's movements, he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear.

“You’re doing great, noona,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you missed a step, stumbling slightly. “Th-thanks,” you managed to stammer, trying to regain your composure.

He pulled back, grinning. “What’s wrong? You seem a bit distracted.”

“Just focused on getting the steps right,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t see through your facade.

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced but not pushing it further.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. The routine was intricate, demanding your full attention, but Jungwon's newfound confidence made it increasingly difficult. He moved with a grace and assurance that was hard to ignore, and his constant teasing only added to your distraction.

You couldn’t continue like that, or else you might burst. You never noticed how handsome he was or how hot he looked when he was focused on something. But since yesterday, that was the only thing you could think about.

During a break, you sat down to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead. Jungwon plopped down beside you, a bottle of water in hand.

“Here,” he said, offering you the bottle. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking it and drinking gratefully. “You’re really on fire today. Did you have an extra shot of coffee this morning or something?”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you flustered.”

You nearly choked on your water, coughing slightly. “I-I’m not flustered.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his smirk widening. “It’s okay, noona. It’s kind of cute.”

Your face burned, and you looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why did your heart skip a bit when he said that? The way he was looking at you, with his playful smirk and his glimmering eyes. You should scold him, he was younger than you, how could he called you ‘’cute’’. You hated that you actually liked it.

You cleared your throat, your cheeks still red and got up from the ground. ‘’Uh… we should get back to practice ‘’

“Of course,” he agreed, but the playful glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done teasing.

As you both resumed practice, Jungwon continued to push your buttons, his confidence making him bolder. During a particularly challenging sequence, he placed his hands on your waist to guide you into the correct position, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“There,” he said softly, his breath warm against your neck. “Perfect.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his closeness. “Thanks,” you murmured, stepping away to put some distance between you. You couldn’t be cphysically close ot him right now. Not outside of the chores.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Anytime, noona.”

By the end of the session, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Jungwon’s confident teasing had left you more flustered than you cared to admit, and focusing on the routine had been a constant struggle.

“Good work today,” Jungwon said as you both gathered your things. “We’re getting better.”

“Yeah, we are,” you agreed, forcing a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” he said, giving you a wink. “I can’t wait.”

As you left the studio, you couldn’t help but replay the day’s events in your mind. As the days unfolded, you avoided him the best you could. After practices, you always came up with an excuse whenever he asked if you wanted to grab something to eat or drink. But most of all, you avoided looking into his eyes. His beautiful and hypnotizing eyes.

Today was one of your last practices, as the Gayo Daejeon was approaching. You tried to keep your focus only on the routine, determined not to let him get to you. You couldn’t. The choreography required for you to look into his eyes, but today was clearly impossible. His hair was parted in a way to make his features appear stronger. he looked so good. Every time your eyes locked, your cheeks would heat up, and your heart could race uncontrollably. Instead, you fixed your gaze on the floor or focused on a point over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

But Jungwon wasn’t one to miss much. After the fourth time, you avoided his eyes during the routine, he began to suspect something was up. Plus, he noticed how distant you were and how you tried to avoid him during the last few days. During a particularly close part of the choreography, where you had to face each other and mirror each other’s movements, he finally decided to confront you.

You were supposed to step into each other’s space, your faces mere inches apart. Instead of looking at him, you kept your gaze firmly on the floor, focusing on your feet.

“Look at me,” Jungwon’s voice was low but commanding. He stopped his movement and placed his fingers gently under your chin, tugging your head upwards to look at him, holding your waist wth his other hand.

You swallowed hard, your eyes reluctantly meeting his. “Why are you avoiding my eyes, noona?” he asked, his smirk widening as he saw the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“I’m not avoiding your eyes,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his fingers still holding your chin. “You’re a terrible liar. What’s got you so flustered?”

“I’m not flustered,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away, but his grip, though gentle, was firm.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence. “Come on, noona, you can be honest with me.”

The intensity of his gaze, coupled with the proximity of his body, almost buckled your knees. “I just… I’m trying to focus,” you stammered.

He leaned in closer, matching your height, his breath warm against your lips. “And looking at me makes it hard to focus?”

You bit your lip, your mind racing for a plausible denial, but nothing came to you. The way he was looking at you and how confident he seemed made it hard for you to concentrate. “Yes,” you finally admitted, your voice barely audible.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his other hand that was on your waist pulled you closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt like you were melting into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with a hunger you hadn’t realized you’d been suppressing.

You both pulled away, breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see the desire in his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he looked at you with half-lidded eyes.

Without even thinking twice about it, you grabbed the front of his tank top, pulling him back to you for another kiss, this time a lot more aggressive and forceful. Jungwon groaned against your lips, his hands finding the small of your back and pulling you closer. The kiss was fiery, your mouths moving in a heated dance. You both put so much force into the kiss, you were practiaclly sure your lips would have bruises on tomorrow.

He backed you up until you felt the cool surface of the mirrored wall against your back. His hands were firm as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Your hands were feeling him, going from his broad shoulders to his biceps to his abs. You felt every muscle tense against your hands, and you absolutely loved it. You needed to touch him.

“Look at you,” he murmured as his lips attached to your neck, kissing and biting it, his voice thick with desire. “So needy. You like this, don’t you?”

You gasped, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “Fuck, yes,” you whispered, the admission making your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

His eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he pinned your hands above your head, his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the mirror. You could feel how hard he was through his sweatpants. “Say it again,” he demanded, his tone commanding.

“Yes, I like this,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungwon smirked, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl.’’ His hand slipped under your shirt, caressing your skin, eliciting a moan from you. He chuckled, his hand moving higher, his thumb brushing over your bra. “So desperate for my touch. Fuck, you’re perfect.’’

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan. “Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted, his thumb circling your nipple through the fabric. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please, touch me,” you begged, your voice breaking.

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping under your bra to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin. “I love hearing you beg for me.”

You moaned, pressing into his hand, your body trembling with need. “Wonnie, I need you…”

He growled, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. “I know, baby. I know.” His free hand slid down to your thigh, lifting your right leg to wrap around his waist. “God, you’re so perfect. So responsive.” You felt his hard-on against your clothed core as he started to move a bit, causing both of you to hiss.

You felt like you were drowning in him, every touch, every word sending you spiraling deeper into desire. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Look at you, so desperate for me. Do you know how hot you look right now?” He thrust again, a little harder this time, and you let out a small, needy whine. He smirked, his hand moving to the waistband of your sports shorts.

In one swift motion, he slipped his hand inside, his fingers finding your core. You gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. ‘’Fuck you’re so wet for me,’’ he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So ready to be touched.”

You moaned, unable to form coherent words, your body responding to his touch with a mind of its own. “Yes, yes, please…”

He leaned in, his lips hovering your ear, before you could feel him sink his teeth to your lobe. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” And with that, he entered one finger and started pumping it, slowly at first. He picked up the pace when he saw you responding to his moves. He quickly added another one and you couldn’t stop the moans from slipping.

"God, you’re so tight," Jungwon murmured, his voice laced with a mix of awe and desire. "I can barely fit two fingers in."

You gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he pushed his fingers deeper inside you. The tightness and the heat around his fingers made him groan in satisfaction. "Fuck. If you’re this tight around my fingers, I don’t know how I’m gonna fit."

You moaned, the combination of his words and his rough touch driving you wild. He smirked, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing harsh circles around it. "You like that, don’t you? You like feeling my fingers inside you, stretching you."

"Yes," you breathed, your hips bucking against his hand, seeking more of his touch.

His smirk widened as he pushed his fingers deeper, his pace rough and unrelenting. "Look at you, so desperate for me. So wet and tight. Oh, I’m gonna ruin you."

You whimpered, the pleasure building inside you, making it hard to think or speak. He chuckled darkly, his free hand coming up to cover your mouth as a particularly loud moan slipped out of your mouth. "Shh, we can’t have anyone hearing you, can we? Anyone could walk into the studio and see you like this, begging for my touch."

His hand muffled your moans, the pressure of his fingers inside you and the movement of his thumb on your clit pushing you closer to the edge. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re such a good girl, taking my fingers so well. But you’re also a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Getting off in the practice studio where anyone could see."

You nodded, tears of pleasure forming in the corners of your eyes. The combination of his praise and degradation made your body tremble, every nerve ending on fire.

"You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice low and commanding, as he felt your walls tightening around his fingers. ‘’Fuck, I can feel how close you are. Go ahead, come for me, but keep it quiet. Show me how good you can be."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You bit down on his hand to muffle your cries, the intense waves of pleasure crashing over you. Jungwon continued to finger you through it, his touch relentless and rough, prolonging your release until you were a shaking, panting mess.

When you finally came down from your high, he withdrew his fingers slowly, his eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. ‘’You’ve made such a mess, all because of my fingers."

You blushed, leaning your had against the mirror. You were completely breathless. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "You taste amazing. I can’t wait to be inside you.’’

When you finally find some sanity left, you gently push him a bit from you and let your hands run through his abs before tugging at his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. You wanted to make him feel just as good. He took off his shirt, revealing his toned abs.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, his smirk reappearing as he realized your intent. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Returning the favor," you said, your voice husky with desire.

His eyes darkened with lust as you dropped to your knees in front of him, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled them down slowly, your breath hitching as you revealed more of his skin. When his boxers followed, you couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. His cock was big indeed and the sight of him made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice dripping with arrogance and amusement.

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his impressive length. You licked your lips, your desire evident.

"Then show me," he commanded, his tone dominant. "I want to see that pretty mouth of yours around me."

You nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the tip of his hard cock. He groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command.

You opened your mouth, taking him in slowly, savoring the weight and feel of him on your tongue. He let out a deep groan, his hips twitching as you began to bob your head, your hand wrapping around the base to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

‘’Fuck, baby" he growled, his grip tightening in your hair. "You look so good like this.’’

You hummed around him, the vibration eliciting another groan from him. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length.

"That’s it," he praised, his voice breathless.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity of his gaze made you shiver. His dominance, the way he looked down at you with a mix of adoration and arrogance, only fueled your desire. You wanted to make him lose control, to hear him praise you more.

You deepened your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Jungwon’s head fell back, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips. "Fuck. Your mouth feels so fucking good. So fucking perfect."

You felt a surge of pride and arousal at his words, your movements becoming more fervent. His grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he thrust roughly into your mouth. "You like this, don’t you?" he asked, his voice rough. "Being on your knees for me, taking my cock like a good little slut."

You moaned around him, the degrading words sending a thrill through your body. He was pushing all the right buttons, and you loved every second of it.

"Answer me," he commanded, pulling you off him just enough so you could speak.

‘’Fuck, yes, I love it," you gasped, your voice breathless and needy. "I love making you feel good."

"Good girl," he purred, thrusting back into your mouth. "Keep going. Make me come."

You redoubled your efforts, your hand stroking him in time with your movements. His breathing became more ragged, his moans louder. "I’m close," he warned, his hips bucking into your mouth. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come."

You moaned in encouragement, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could. With a final, guttural groan, he tensed, his release spilling into your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savoring the taste and the sound of his pleasure. When he finally released his grip on your hair, you pulled back, licking your lips and looking up at him. Jungwon’s eyes were dark with satisfaction and something deeper, something more tender.

He grabbed your jaw forcefully, making you go back on your feet and crashed his lips into yours, tasting himself on your tongue. He grabbed your hips firmly.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire.

You did as he said, your heart pounding in anticipation. Jungwon pressed you against the mirrored wall, his body heat radiating against your back. He tugged your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, and you gasped at the sudden coolness against your skin.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his hand gripping your chin and tilting your head up to face the mirror. “I want you to see how desperate you are for me.”

Your eyes met your own reflection, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with anticipation. Jungwon’s eyes bore into yours through the mirror, a predatory gleam in them. He positioned himself behind you, his hand sliding between your legs to tease you, finding you already wet and ready.

He smirked, positioning himself at your entrance. Without warning, he thrust into you roughly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he filled you completely. You cried out, the sudden intrusion overwhelming, but Jungwon’s hand quickly covered your mouth.

“Quiet,” he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. “Anyone could walk in and see you like this, see how much you love being fucked by me.”

You nodded, biting down on your lip to stifle your moans as he began to move. His pace was relentless, each thrust rough and deep, pushing you against the mirror. The sensation was intense, every nerve in your body on fire.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to meet your own eyes in the mirror. “Look at how you’re taking me, how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your reflection showing you lost in pleasure, completely at his mercy. His other hand slipped between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in sync with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, and you felt your body tightening, the first orgasm building rapidly.

“Wonnie, I’m gonna—” you started, but he cut you off with a harsh thrust.

“Do it,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Come for me, beautiful. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His words, combined with the relentless pace of his thrusts and the pressure on your clit, sent you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Jungwon’s hand muffled your cries.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice rough with satisfaction. “You look so beautiful when you come.”

He didn’t give you time to recover, his pace never slowing. Each thrust pushed you higher, the overstimulation making your body tremble. “Won, please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. “It’s too much.”

“You can take it,” he growled, his eyes filled with a dark hunger. His fingers moved faster on your clit, the pressure building again. You couldn’t believe how quickly another orgasm was approaching, your body responding to his every touch.

“Won, I can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with another rough thrust.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, his voice filled with dominance. He leaned in, his chest pressed against your back as his lips hovered over your ear. “You’re going to come again, and you’re going to do it while looking at yourself. I want you to see how much you love being fucked by me.”

The intensity of his words and the unrelenting pace of his thrusts pushed you over the edge again. You screamed into his hand, your body convulsing with the force of your second orgasm. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, your vision blurring as you were overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jungwon groaned, his own release approaching. “You feel so good. So tight and wet. You’re fucking perfect.”

With a final, deep thrust, he came inside you, his body tensing as he filled you with his release. You both stayed there for a moment, panting and trembling, the intensity of the encounter leaving you both breathless.

After you both recovered a bit, Jungwon carefully helped you straighten your clothes, pull up your shorts and panties, and made sure you were comfortable. He guided you to sit down on one of the benches, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and concern.

“You okay, noona?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, still breathless and trembling slightly. “Yeah, just… wow.”

He chuckled, his confidence still shining through. “Yeah, wow.’’

You smiled weakly, feeling the soreness already settling in. “I don’t think I can practice anymore today. I’m too sore.”

Jungwon’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I guess I really did a number on you, huh? Didn’t expect you to be so breathless and sore. Maybe I should’ve gone easier on you.”

You gave him a playful glare. “Don’t get too cocky, now. You’re just lucky I didn’t outlast you.”

He laughed, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure, sure. But that’s not what you were saying when I was indie you, huh? All I heard was you begging for more.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you feel better.”

Jungwon stood up and retrieved a small towel from his bag, dampening it with some water from his bottle. He knelt in front of you and gently wiped the sweat from your face and neck, his touch tender and caring.

“Here, let me massage your legs a bit,” he said, his tone softening. “It’ll help with the soreness.”

You nodded, grateful for his thoughtfulness. As he began to knead the muscles in your calves and thighs, you felt some of the tension easing away. His hands were skilled, and the massage was both soothing and relaxing.

“Better?” he asked, looking up at you with a warm smile.

“Much better,” you sighed, feeling more at ease. “Thank you, wonnie.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned in and kissed your neck, his lips warm and gentle against your skin.

You shivered, a mix of pleasure and exhaustion washing over you. “Won, we can’t… not here. We’re already lucky nobody walked in on us.”

He pouted playfully, his eyes filled with mischief. “But I was just getting started on round two.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe later. I’m way too tired right now.”

He smirked, his confidence and cockiness still evident. “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. But don’t think I’ll forget.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle hum of the studio lights created a comforting atmosphere. You laid down on the bench, your head resting on his tights, while he played with your hair.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of footsteps in the building provided a soothing backdrop to your quiet moment together. Jungwon's fingers traced light patterns on your scalp, making you feel relaxed and content.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, peeking up at him with a playful smile. “That sounds dangerous.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Very funny, noona. But seriously, I was thinking we should go out sometime. You know, on a proper date.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued. “A date, huh? Are you sure you can handle that?”

Jungwon smirked, his fingers still threading through your hair. “I think I can manage. Unless you’re too scared to go out with me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Scared? Please. I’m just worried you might not be able to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” he said confidently. “The question is, can you handle it?”

You rolled your eyes, enjoying the banter. “Alright, tough guy. Where do you plan on taking me?”

He pretended to think for a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about dinner at that new rooftop restaurant downtown? I heard the view is amazing.”

“Ooh, fancy,” you replied, impressed. “Trying to impress me, are you?”

“Is it working?” he asked, his expression hopeful but playful.

“Maybe,” you said, pretending to ponder. “But I’m going to need more than just a nice view to be impressed.”

He laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Challenge accepted. So, what do you say? Dinner tomorrow night?”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Despite the teasing, you felt a genuine excitement at the prospect of going out with Jungwon. “Alright, you’ve got yourself a date. But only if you promise not to be late.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning seriousness. “I promise. I’ll even show up early, just to make sure.”

“Wow, early?” you teased. “You must really want to impress me.”

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his tone more sincere. “You’re worth it.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Well, in that case, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” he said, his fingers resuming their gentle play in your hair. “It’ll be nice to spend time together outside the studio.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Yeah, it will be. Just you and me, no distractions.”

“No distractions,” he agreed, his voice a soft promise.

2K notes · View notes

sunsburns · 2 months ago

Text

GONE GONE / THANK YOU — variant!mark grayson

⟢ synopsis. you’ve never wanted to fight mark grayson, but the universe has a way of twisting your arm, and now you're forced to reckon with it.

⟢ contains. 18+, mark grayson x reader, evil variant!mark grayson x reader (but not the way you think), serious injury, death, gore, violence, major angst, no happy endings here, oliver locks tf in.

⟢ wc: 5.6k+

⟢ author’s note. do not be fooled, this is a tragedy. there is no romance here.

You remember, vaguely, back when he still worked for Cecil and trained with the Guardians. When you were teammates, rookies with too much adrenaline and not enough experience. Mark Grayson used to ask you to spar like it was a game.

You always turned him down.

It was always him asking, too—never Cecil. Sometimes, Rex would try to coax you into it, just for fun, by placing bets with Bulletproof like it was a pay-per-view event. “Come on, just once,” he’d say, “I got twenty bucks on you getting tossed into a wall.”

It wasn’t like you’d stand much of a chance—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You weren’t helpless, sure. You could fly, move faster than most. You had telekinesis, strength just barely above the average hero’s. You could throw a car without touching it and take a punch that would hospitalize most people. But you couldn’t split the sky open with a single blow. You couldn’t level a building by accident.

Mark could.

He was much stronger than you. You knew that. But he always swore you were the only one on the team he’d ever have a fair fight with.

You remember him saying it once, voice all boyish and sincere as he watched you hurl a semi-truck into a monster that crawled out of Hell with nothing but a wave of your arm. Or that time you tackled him midair to shield him from a laser blast—one that left you burned and stumbling, but still standing.

Back then, he was new to this. Sloppy. Hopeful. Moved like he was wearing his dad’s boots and still trying to grow into them.

Maybe back then, you could’ve taken him.

Maybe it would’ve been fair.

You’d always brushed off the sparring sessions he suggested, hiding your nerves behind a smirk. He’d flash that stupid grin, eyes too bright to take seriously, and you’d wave him off like it was nothing. “What, so I can lose in front of you? No thanks.”

You never said what you really meant: I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even want to know how to.

Looking back, it was kind of embarrassing how quickly you’d grown fond of the new superhero.

“Oh, c’mon,” he’d beg, hovering beside you in the sky, similar to some overeager golden retriever, “it’ll be fun! I’ll go easy on you.”

You remembered the way he’d grin when he said that, like he meant it. You remembered the way he used to chase after you mid-flight on your off days, shouting challenges through the wind when all you wanted was to fly in peace. You’d mentioned craving Caribbean food in the Caribbean once—offhand, totally casual—and next thing you knew, you were midair, scrolling your maps app while Mark kept pace beside you, claiming he just wanted to “smell the sea air or whatever.”

Yeah, right.

You knew better. He just liked being near you. (Or at least that’s what Eve told you later, when you brought it up and she rolled her eyes like you were the last person on Earth to get the hint.) And when it came time to carry the food back, he always helped without you asking.

He was kind like that. Earnest. The kind of guy who matched your pace, who never minded when you stopped flying to rest on a rooftop or circle over a new city just to take it all in. He kept you company. Slowed down for you.

But he also liked to annoy the hell out of you.

He had a talent for pushing your buttons—prodding, teasing, egging you on just enough to make you want to hit him. Not in the playful, shoulder-shove kind of way either. You’re talking a real punch. One that might actually break his nose.

He’d say stuff like, “What if you just threw stuff at me?”

You blinked at him, mid-hover. “Throw stuff at you?”

“Yeah. Like, I don’t know—trucks? Cars? Big, heavy stuff. No combat. Just toss things.”

You’d laughed. “No combat? Why? You think I’d beat you in a real fight?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Probably, yeah.”

And he meant it.

You were better at combat than Mark. Everyone knew it. He had raw power, sure, but he fought like he was still learning where his limbs ended. He was always a little too reckless, too eager to win fast, to fight them and leave, always charging in when he should’ve taken a second to think or hear out whoever he was fighting this time. He always let his opponent push him onto the back foot. Unfortunate because Mark only knew how to block with his face.

Which sucked, because he had a very pretty face.

“I don’t want to fight you, Mark.” You said it because it was true. Because even if it was just a playful team match, even if the stakes had only ever been bragging rights, you’d seen what he could do. Just a glimpse of it—enough to leave you rattled for days.

You didn’t want to feel helpless under him. You didn’t want to see him like that.

“Train with me,” he corrected you.

You arch a brow. “We already train together.”

“Spar with me, then.” He rolled his eyes, like you’re being deliberately difficult.

It made you laugh, escaped before you could stop it. It almost makes you cave. His voice, the slight pout in his tone, the way he gets when he wants you to meet him in the middle.

“What would I gain from this if we do?”

“You’d know my weaknesses.”

“I already do.”

“Fine. You’d know what to do in a fight with me. A real fight.”

That made you pause.

You glanced at him, really glanced, and saw the honesty in his eyes. It sobered you.

“If I ever try to fight you, Mark,” you murmured, “I must be the craziest person on the planet.”

And maybe that was the problem.

Somewhere, in the quiet corners of your mind, the part of you that didn’t speak often, you understood what he meant. You saw the logic. It wasn’t about wanting to fight. It was about being prepared for the possibility. That one day, something might happen—someone might twist his arm, or his mind, or the world might just break wrong—and you’d be the only one left to stop him.

Just like he was the only one who could stop his dad.

But it was Mark.

You couldn’t picture it. Couldn’t even begin to shape that version of reality in your head. A Viltrumite? Sure. Maybe. But not Mark. Not the one who flew slower just to stay beside you. Not the one who remembered where you liked your food from or made you laugh just to hear the sound.

A Viltrumite, sure. But never Mark.

It always surprised you that Cecil never forced the issue. That he never pulled you aside, never handed you a file full of fail-safes and protocols for some contingency plan. Never demanded you run a one-on-one simulation, just in case. Not even after Anissa.

Maybe he was too busy moulding Mark into a weapon. Focused on teaching him how to dodge the hit instead of what it would mean to land one. Maybe no one really wanted to imagine a world where Mark Grayson needed to be stopped.

But now?

Now you wish you’d said yes.

You wish you’d tested yourself. Learned his rhythms, his tempo, the way his shoulders moved before a strike. You wish you’d paid closer attention. Memorized every tell. Every blink. Every breath. Every violent twitch in his body.

Should’ve known what it’d feel like when one punch hit you for real.

When he hits you for real.

“Why won’t you fucking die?!”

The voice is his, but wrong.

It curdles in your ears: guttural, unhinged, warped by something deeper than rage.

You’re weightless—thrown midair like a ragdoll. For a single, surreal moment, there’s a strange comfort in it. Suspended high above the wreckage, the sun kisses your skin, and a breeze slips across your face.

Up here, the sky is still beautiful. A stretch of blue that hasn’t yet been stained by smoke or scorched by heat. Far enough from the screaming and all the noise. Far enough to forget what’s happening on the ground.

But you can’t breathe.

Your lungs seize, your eyes snap open, pupils blown wide as your body remembers the pain.

You barely register your own gasp before a blur of blue and black cuts through your vision. Fast and close.

Your body shudders violently. Instinct claws at your nerves as the blur sharpens.

He’s coming. Again.

Faster than before.

Faster than you can think.

Gravity slowly claws you back down. You’re dropping.

You don’t even get the chance to scream before two boots slam into your stomach.

Your body folds inwards with a crunch—sick, absolute. Something inside you gives way. Ribs, maybe. Or your will.

The air vanishes from your lungs.

And then you’re falling.

Plunging faster than you can think to pull yourself up again.

The wind whips past your ears, colder now, biting at torn fabric and skin. Your suit peels away in places, edges fused with blood and grime. It soaks through the fabric, your blood. It clings like glue.

You hit the ground like a meteor and concrete craters beneath you.

Your spine strikes first, a bolt of blinding white-hot pain rippling through every inch of you, from the tips of your ears to your toes. And then your body goes limp, twitching in the dust.

You heave; a short, broken breath. Once.

Twice.

Then blood rises up your throat like a tide. It fills your mouth, thick and choking. You cough, gag. Swallow a bit without meaning to. The taste is iron and fire and fear.

Your nose is shattered, and has been since the second time he hit you; it’s not getting any better—just a wet, twisted mess that sends pain knifing through your face with every shallow breath. Blood seeps from the split at the bridge of it, more of it rolls out to coat your lips. You try inhaling through it, and it’s like dragging air through broken glass.

Your vision pulses. Static edges. Fireflies at the corners of your eyes. The sunlight above you flickers like it’s behind dirty windows.

Everything burns.

You’re vaguely, bitterly grateful to discover that you can take a punch or two from a Viltrumite.

Even more grateful to realize he still gets frustrated when a fight drags on longer than he wants.

He’s always had a temper. That little crack in his armour. That flicker of impatience just before he stubbornly decides to end things.

Funny how that trait sticks. Across dimensions. Across versions.

Across Marks.

You try to move.

You know he’s coming again.

You fight to make sense of where you’ve landed—what part of the city this is, how far the damage might’ve spread. The world tilts wildly when you try to sit up. Every muscle screams. Every joint trembles under the weight of your own body.

Your fingers dig into dust and rubble. Arms shaking, elbows buckling when you roll over.

Somewhere past the ringing in your ears, a footstep echoes.

Not his. Too light. You freeze. Your body goes rigid with fear.

Then you see a child.

Shit.

A girl runs past, tripping over debris, breath coming in broken sobs. Your heart lurches.

She stumbles toward a crumbled wall, where a hand reaches out from a narrow crack in the broken concrete. A voice calls softly, a little desperately. She throws herself into someone’s arms, and the space swallows her whole. Hidden. Safe.

You meet someone’s eyes inside the dark. Just a flash. Then a whisper.

“Is she okay?”

“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

However, your blood goes cold because you don’t hear him land. You feel it.

A tremor shocks the ground beneath you. Dust kicks up into your throat. Something inside you screams at you to run. But your legs won’t listen. Your body doesn’t move.

A shadow twists along the edge of the crater, slow and crawling, swallowing the light around it. You watch, frozen, as the figure nears, closer with every heartbeat, every rasping breath that burns your lungs. Your chest is caving in under the weight of fear, the panic a raw, wild thing clawing up your throat and getting stuck. You barely move.

Your instincts take over before your mind catches up—what little you can summon lurches to life, and a thin, violet barrier flares to life around you.

It glows dimly, trembling in the air like it’s afraid too.

Then, the first strike lands.

You flinch as a violent crack echoes through your shield. His fist hits it again, harder this time—shockwaves rippling outward, shaking the ground beneath your knees. You collapse backwards, knees buckling beneath you, your limbs no longer listening.

And now, you see him.

The colours of the suit are the same. Black and blue. Familiar. Too familiar. It’s his jawline, his mouth, the slight crookedness in his lips—only this time, there’s no smile at all. No warmth. Just something brutal and cold in the lines of his face. It’s haunting, how much he looks like your Mark.

His fists don’t hesitate. They don’t tremble. They don’t stop. He slams them again and again into the shield, and you know it’s not to knock you out. He’s trying to kill you.

Your vision blurs, not from the impact, but from the emotion cracking inside your chest. It’s like looking into a mirror, someone shattered and glued back together in all the wrong ways. His jaw clenches, tighter than you’ve ever seen on Mark. And he shouts and screams at you like rage has him by the throat.

His suit is covered in blood. Not just stained. Soaked. You know Mark bleeds more often than not and carries his wounds to prove it. This isn’t that. This isn’t his blood. These are other people’s. It drips from his fists. Smears across his shoulder. There’s a tacky smear along his jaw.

And then you notice the difference: his hair is tucked beneath a tight, blue cowl, pulled back out of reach. It’s smart, almost too smart. You’ve seen people grab Mark by the hair mid-fight, use it to throw him off balance. This version, this thing pretending to be him, has made sure that won’t happen. Even so, a few strands of inky black hair have broken free, fluttering in the wind, familiar enough to steal your breath.

It’s that hint of recognition that almost costs you everything.

His fist crashes into your barrier again, and this time, it shatters and you feel it crack down your spine.

There’s no time to think. You throw yourself upward with a burst of raw energy, launching into the air, limbs screaming in protest. You don’t look at him. You look past him toward the building where the civilians are hiding, where you felt their fear.

Get away from them. Get him away from them. That’s all that matters now.

You’re gasping, your lungs pulling in air like they’re drowning. Your hands are trembling so hard you can barely summon the force again. Your vision is swimming. Blood sticks to your side, to your lashes, to the inside of your mouth.

And you’re scared.

You barely make it a few feet into the air, just high enough to feel the wind stir through your hair, when he grabs you by the throat.

The momentum dies instantly.

His hand clamps around your neck like a vice, fingers cold and unyielding, and you’re yanked backward through the sky with brutal force. Your body jerks in the air, and you choke on a scream as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. A ragdoll. A thing.

You claw at his wrist, nails scraping, scrabbling, legs kicking beneath you, wild and useless, searching for something, anything, to find leverage. But there’s nothing. Your lungs seize, scream for air, and your chest caves in with the effort.

“M-mm…” It slips out, a little pathetic. A strangled, broken moan choked on blood and bile, laced with panic you can’t swallow down.

Tears finally break. They spill hot and fast over the curve of your cheeks, over the cuts already weeping there. You can’t stop crying—it hurts too much to cry, but your body doesn’t care. Everything is on fire. Your ribs ache where they’re cracked. Blood drips down your chin from your split lip. Your shoulder pulses where you hit the ground earlier. It all bleeds together in one screaming pulse of pain.

The variant grins. Wide. Delighted. His teeth are strangely white, and there’s something sickening in the shine of his eyes you can see through his goggles. He brings you closer, so close you can smell the blood caked beneath his collar. So close your lips brush the edge of his ear.

“Sorry, what was that?” he murmurs. His voice is casual, almost amused, like he’s not slowly squeezing the life out of you. Like he’s enjoying this.

You try to speak again. Try to push past the pressure in your throat, the blood in your mouth, the trembling of your jaw.

“Mmar—muh—”

He laughs. Laughs.

“Muh-muh—come on, you can do it. You know my name. Say it.” He’s mocking you, voice all sweetness and cruelty. His grip tightens just slightly, and it sends a new spike of agony ripping down your spine.

Your face crumples.

You’re sobbing now, really sobbing, even though it hurts. Even though every broken breath feels like it’s digging your grave faster. You collapse inward, deeper into his grip, your weight sagging against his hold as your feet dangle uselessly beneath you. Blood smears down your neck, thick and warm, mixing with the salt of your tears. It leaves tracks on your cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever been this afraid.

He shakes you once, sharp and jarring.

A cry slips out of you, louder this time.

“Say it,” he demands again. “C’mon. At least beg a little.”

Your lips part. It hurts. But you do it.

“Mark—please. Please.”

He hums like he’s enjoying it, cocking his head.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

“Please, Mark. I don’t—I don’t wanna…”

Your voice breaks again. Trails off into something too small to hear. You meant to say die. But it catches in your throat, and you’re not even sure if that’s the truth.

Because you don’t want to die at his hands.

You don’t want to die looking at his face.

You don’t want to die thinking this is the last version of him you’ll ever see.

You squint through the blood stinging your eyes, searching—anything. A broken pipe, a shard of metal, a loose brick. Something you could use before he chooses to tear your head from your body or snap your neck like a twig. But your brain blanks. He could do anything to you. You’ve seen him do worse.

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head like you’re a puzzle he already solved. He pushes you away, just slightly. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight—”

A jagged chunk of broken concrete comes hurtling through the air behind him. It slams into his back and crumbles instantly, like dirt hitting steel. It doesn’t hurt him, but it makes him falter. Just for a second.

It’s enough.

You land a shaky kick to his stomach. It barely moves him—he grunts, more annoyed than wounded—but it’s enough to loosen his grip on your throat. His hand slips, and you drop like dead weight, gasping as air stabs back into your lungs.

You’re in the air again before you hit the ground, desperate to put distance between him and the civilians hiding in the building nearby. You knew you wouldn’t get far. You just needed space.

But he’s faster.

His hand snatches your ankle mid-flight, yanking you down so hard the air tears from your lungs again. Panic hits like ice in your chest, he could rip your leg clean off. You brace for it. But it doesn’t happen. You’re more durable than you give yourself credit for.

He must realize that too because he pauses. And in that pause, a car slams into him from the side with a scream of twisted metal, sending him skidding across the air. The vehicle shatters around him like glass against a god.

You hover in the air, staggering, breath ragged. Run. You burst away. But it’s like he never left. A blur of movement, and he’s on you again. The wind trembles around you as he grabs the back of your suit, lifts, and throws.

You crash through a concrete wall like a bullet, debris exploding in every direction. The force slams you into the tiled floor of the building behind it, breaking the ground beneath you as you skid across it. Each bounce against the cracked floor sends more shards of pain ripping through your ribs, your spine—until your body then slams into another wall, cratering the surface.

Your ears ring.

You blink rapidly through the haze and spot them. Movement. Figures, crouched in the corner of the room. Wide eyes. Shaking hands. Trying to stay quiet. Shit, you need to get out of here.

Then you feel him.

“—You little shit.” His voice is right there. Hot. Furious. His goggles have broken, and you can see his eyes. You feel sick when he looks at you, and you realize he has the exact same eyes as the Mark you know.

Hands seize you, claws in your skin, and you flinch, scrambling weakly, but there’s no time. Icy fingers dig into your face like meat hooks, one thumb gouging dangerously close to your eye as he yanks your head forward and smashes it back against the wall.

Once.

Twice.

He does it again. And again.

Your skull slams into the concrete until the plaster splits—until the wall peels back like wet paper and your head strikes the raw metal beam embedded beneath it. The sound is sharp. Hollow. Like a bell rung for the dead. The metal dents and bends to the shape of your skull.

“Fight back,” he snarls, saliva spraying across your cheek. His grip tightens. “Fight back, coward.”

The building groans around you. Cracks crawl like veins across the walls. Dust sifts down from the ceiling like ash from a burning sky.

Still, you don’t move.

Because your hands, shaking and soaked in your own blood, remain limp next to you. Fingers splayed, twitching, and glowing with desperate violet light. Your force field is fragile now—no longer the confident, humming barrier you’ve conjured in countless fights. This one sputters. Fractures along the edges. It buzzes with instability, as if your own heartbeat is the only thing keeping it alive.

Through it, the civilians cower in the corner. A young girl sobs into her mother’s chest. An older man clutches his chest, gasping. Blood trickles down someone’s temple. One of them meets your eyes—just for a second.

They’re depending on you.

You’re the wall between them and a god gone mad.

Even as blood pours freely from your nose, leaks from your ears, and chokes your throat, you hold the shield.

And he sees it.

His gaze flicks from your face to the trembling light shielding the survivors. Then he turns. Slowly. The glow reflects in his eyes like a glint off polished glass.

He sees them. The people you’re breaking yourself to protect. The reason you’re not fighting him back.

“Oh,” he breathes, realization flooding his face like bile. “That’s what you’re doing.”

There’s no humour in it. No mockery. He stands up. Steps back just enough to leer down at you. Then he nudges your leg with his foot, light, almost lazy.

“Am I not worth your full attention?” he spits, voice low and venomous.

You manage to lift your head just slightly, breath rattling in your chest.

That’s when you see it—the sudden flick of movement. His leg tensing, rising, snapping downward.

The stomp hits your knee. Hard.

A flash of pain rips up your thigh. Your force field flickers. Cracks splinter across its surface.

He sees that too.

And then he lifts off the ground. Just slightly. Hovering. Charging his weight.

“No—” you croak.

But it’s already too late.

He comes down full force, heel slamming directly into the joint of your knee. You hear the wet pop before your body processes it.

“Wait—”

Crunch.

The sound is sickening—like splintering wood wrapped in muscle. Your femur caves, bone shearing beneath his strength.

You scream. It rips from your throat with raw, animalistic agony. A sound born from every nerve in your body, catching fire.

But he doesn’t stop.

He stomps again.

Your leg gives entirely. Another crunch—louder this time. Bone bursts through skin, blood pooling fast and dark across the tile. Flesh torn. Tendons snapped.

You try to crawl away, sobbing, your fingers scraping uselessly against rubble, but he pins you with a single hand, heavy and uncaring. Whimpers slip past your lips. Your body trembles. Tears return—hot, relentless.

Still… you hold the shield.

Or try to.

Your hands flutter now, weak and slow. The violet glow dims, sputters, and flickers. You feel it dying.

You let out a choked sob. “No— please—don’t—”

He doesn’t even look at you.

Just kicks your side and shoves you down to the floor with a dull, wet thud. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs. You taste blood again. You bite your tongue to keep from blacking out. Your world is sideways.

He steps over your body, shadow stretching across the floor.

“You wanna play hero?” he says, voice thick with disdain. “Then try and stop me.”

The force field fails.

The whine that comes with it is soft. Pathetic. Like a dying heartbeat. The light vanishes.

And then he moves forward.

You hear it first. The civilians scream. A cacophony of fear and hopelessness, and panic. Feet scramble across the floor, slapping and slipping in the dust. Bodies scatter like bugs when a rock is lifted, rushing to corners that won’t save them.

You try to look away. But you can’t.

Tears stream down your bloodied face, your vision blurring, every nerve screaming.

“No—please—stop—”

You watch as he grabs one by the throat, fingers sinking into flesh with a sickening wet crunch, and slams them into the ground hard enough to collapse the tile and crater the concrete beneath.

Bone shatters. The body twitches once. Then doesn’t move again.

Another screams before she’s hurled across the room and hits a concrete column so hard her spine snaps with a sound like cracking ice. Blood sprays in a wide arc, painting the pillar in a bright red fan. What’s left of her folds in on itself like meat dropped from a rooftop.

A third runs. Tries, anyway.

They don’t make it two steps before the variant is on him, driving his fist into the back of their skull like a sledgehammer. The head doesn’t just break. It bursts. A wet, explosive noise followed by silence.

You cry again. All you can do is cry, helpless and shaking. Because you can’t do anything. Can’t crawl. Can’t protect them. Can’t stop it.

All you can do is lie there, twitching, crying, blood in your mouth and dust in your eyes, your own leg bent backwards beneath you like a snapped twig, ribs stabbing sharp into your lungs every time you breathe.

The room shakes. Then goes still.

The screams stop. The begging stops. Everything stops. Except you. You’re still breathing. Barely.

And he sees that.

The Mark who isn’t yours. Who wears his face but none of his soul.

He turns, eyes raking over the ruined bodies, the cracked walls, the crimson streaks painted across your cheeks and neck and chest.

Then he walks away.

He doesn’t even kill you.

He doesn’t even care enough to anymore.

He just leaves you here. A pile of meat and power and broken promises. Like you aren’t even worth finishing off.

The world sways. Tilts. Cracks. You’re not sure if it’s the building or your skull. Everything blurs at the edges, the colours too red, too dark. The air is too hot.

Your ears ring—sharp, high-pitched, like a scream still echoing inside your skull. You can’t tell if it’s someone else’s or your own.

The walls are split open like ruptured flesh. The ground is thick with dust and blood and the sickly stench of offal. Light flickers from a shattered fixture above—rapid, dizzying pulses that make your stomach lurch.

What’s left of your forcefield gutters across the floor like dying embers. Violet flickers catch the blood, the bone, the ruin. Cast soft light on glassy eyes staring up from broken faces.

Some of them look like they were trying to run. Some tried to hide. One looks like they were shielding another.

None of them made it.

You should move. Should crawl to the window. Should drag yourself somewhere someone might see you. Maybe he’ll see you. The real Mark. If he’s out there.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Your leg’s twisted beneath you, a grotesque knot of blood and shattered bone. One arm lies limp across your stomach, fingers twitching without purpose. You think something’s wrong with your ribs—sharp edges press against your insides every time you try to draw in a full breath. So you don’t.

The sun begins to sneak through the crumbled wall, golden light stretching over the carnage like a lie. It touches the broken bodies. The cooling blood. Your face.

And you lie there. Unmoving. Unseeing.

Because what’s the point?

Your hands are burned from your own force field. Still faintly glowing. Still trying.

You’re alone in the ruins of hope.

The concrete groans once more, something shifting far above. A soft cascade of dust falls like snow.

But otherwise—nothing.

No rescue. No sound. No light.

Just the stench of blood. The sting of smoke. And you, barely holding onto the thought of staying awake. Not because you want to. But because something in you still refuses to close your eyes.

Even now.

Even when there’s nothing left to save.

And help arrives too late; a sound, distant, frantic, pierces the silence.

Footsteps. Heavy. Rushed. A younger voice screaming, raw with something deeper than rage: “Die! Die! Die!”

Your heart clenches. That voice. You know it. That high, stubborn pitch. That little face, purple and wide-eyed and brave in a way only a child could be.

Oliver.

But then… silence again.

That silence terrifies you more than anything. He was here. You heard him. And now you don’t.

You start to cry again. Weak little sobs, more breath than sound. It hurts too much to make noise. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe your brain, desperate and failing, conjured him to spare you from dying alone.

Then at first, it’s just a crunch. Soft. Careful. The sound of wind shifting through broken glass. Your ears twitch—what’s left of your hearing, catching the shift in air, the gentle thud of shoes landing on broken tile.

Your ears twitch, catching it through the sharp ringing that’s made a home in your skull. Another crunch. The delicate movement against the air.

Approaching.

Your vision swims in red and static. But you see it—a blur of violet streaking in from the jagged hole in the wall. It flies crooked, clumsy, like it’s too fast for its own balance. It shouts your name.

Not your hero name.

Your real name.

The sound cracks through your chest. A sob tears up your throat.

He lands too hard. Hits the ground with a gust that kicks up glass and bloodstained dust. Then he’s on his knees beside you.

“Oliver?” you whisper, the name catching on something wet in your lungs. The word barely makes it out. A cough wracks through you, sharp and tearing. But it’s something.

Your eyes flicker toward him. He’s breathing hard. Shaking. His fists are covered in blood—not just his, you think dimly—and there’s a long scratch across his cheek that’s already scabbing over. His eyes go wide when he sees you. So wide they look like they might spill over.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” you croak.

Oliver stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. His mouth opens. Closes. Then opens again, trembling.

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he says.

You try to breathe, but it’s shallow. The weight in your chest doesn’t budge.

He reaches out, but doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t know where he can.

“I saw him,” Oliver whispers, “I saw what he did. I thought you were holding him off—I thought—then I couldn’t see you anymore, and I—I stopped him. I got rid of him—”

His voice cuts off. He blinks too fast.

You try to move. Your fingers twitch, scraping weakly against the rubble. You don’t know if you’re reaching for him… or for the people you couldn’t save.

Oliver sees it. And he starts to cry.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, urgently, scooting closer. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. Just—just stay awake, alright? Stay with me. Please.”

He’s a child. Still a child. And he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t see this.

“You have to go,” you rasp, barely audible. “Mark... he’ll be looking for you.”

Oliver shakes his head. “Mark’s fine. You’re not. I’m getting you out of here. I’ll take you to Mom. You’ll be safe with her. She’ll know what to do.”

He says it like it’s a promise. Like it’s fact. But you know better. You feel it in your bones—what’s left of them. You’re not going to make it that far.

You close your eyes for a moment. Just a blink. Just to rest them.

You let the words settle into you like warmth in a cold room.

Maybe that’s enough.

#imagine me diddle daddle-ing #then boom i am locked in #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson angst #invincible x reader #faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ #mark’s empire #mark grayson x you #mark grayson invincible #invincible comic #mark grayson #variant mark grayson #⟢ rotten work

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prettygirl-gabi · 5 months ago

Text

Title: Sideline Chemistry

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Sports Media!Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: As a sports media intern, having to interview Paige for a class project and games should be fun right, but she takes it as an opportunity to shamelessly flirt each time.

As far as internships went, I had a pretty good one. Covering UConn sports for SNY as a student journalist meant I got to attend games, interview players, and build a solid portfolio. But it also came with one huge downside—my current assignment.

Interview Paige Bueckers.

For most people, that wouldn’t be a problem. Paige was an easy-going interview subject, known for her charm and humor. But I wasn’t most people. I was also in her friend group, which meant I had to deal with that version of Paige—the one who lived to tease me, held eye contact for way too long, and always found a way to make me flustered.

I’d prepared a professional approach. Keep it short, ask good questions, and don’t let Paige’s antics get to me.

Too bad she had other plans.

By the time I arrived at the UConn practice gym, most of the team had already left. A few players were still getting shots up, but Paige was leaning against the scorer’s table, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up when she heard my footsteps, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite journalist,” she said, slipping her phone into her hoodie pocket.

I sighed, setting up my camera. “Don’t start, Paige.”

“What? I’m just stating facts.” She stepped closer, resting a hand on her hip. “I feel honored. You could’ve interviewed anyone, but you chose me.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on adjusting my tripod. “I had to choose you. It’s an assignment.”

“Mm-hmm.” Paige rocked back on her heels, watching me work. “Admit it, though—you’re kinda excited.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, totally. This is the highlight of my week.”

She smirked. “See? Told you.”

I shook my head, refusing to let her get under my skin. “Can you just stand over there so I can frame the shot?”

Paige moved to the designated spot, but instead of standing normally, she put her hands in her hoodie pockets and tilted her head, eyes locked on me.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, adjusting the camera settings.

“You look cute when you’re focused.”

My fingers fumbled over the buttons, nearly knocking the camera off its mount. Paige’s quiet laugh filled the space between us.

“Paige,” I warned.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just being supportive.”

I took a deep breath, trying to reset my brain. Focus. I hit record and lifted my notepad.

“Alright, let’s start. Name, year, position.”

Paige grinned. “You already know all that.”

“It’s for the recording, genius.”

She huffed dramatically but answered. “Paige Bueckers, red shirt senior, guard.”

I nodded. “So, this season’s been a big one for you. Coming back after injury, new team members, leading the team—what’s been the most rewarding part?”

Paige leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on her knees. “Honestly? Just being back on the court with my teammates. The rehab process was tough, but it made me appreciate the game even more. And, you know…” She flashed me a smirk. “It’s nice having my favorite reporter covering it all.”

I kept my expression neutral. “I’m sure you say that to every reporter.”

“Nah. Just you.”

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smile. “Next question.”

Paige chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.

I went through a few more, mostly straightforward ones about team chemistry, goals for the season, and her personal growth as a player. And, to her credit, Paige answered them seriously—at least, until the end.

“Last question,” I said, scanning my notes. “What’s something people don’t know about you?”

Paige pretended to think. “Hmm. That I’m a great flirt.”

I blinked at her. “Paige.”

“What? It’s true.” She leaned back, giving me a slow once-over. “Want me to prove it?”

I pointed at the camera. “I will put this in the final cut.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, grinning. “Maybe it’ll finally get you to admit you like me.”

My breath caught in my throat. She wasn’t just playing around anymore—there was something different in the way she said it. Confident. Sure.

The air between us shifted.

I looked at her, really looked, and she met my gaze without hesitation. Her blue eyes held mine, steady and unyielding, a challenge wrapped in warmth.

I swallowed hard. “Paige—”

“Say the word,” she murmured, stepping closer. “And I’ll stop messing with you.”

The way she said it—low, teasing, but undeniably sincere—made my brain short-circuit.

A sharp whistle from the other end of the gym shattered the moment. I jolted back, turning off the camera.

“We’re done,” I said quickly.

Paige chuckled. “For now.”

I spent the next couple of days editing the interview, but no amount of technical work could erase the way Paige had looked at me. It didn’t help that our friend group noticed something was off when we met up for a post-practice dinner.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi noted, sipping her drink.

“Just tired,” I lied, stabbing at my fries.

Paige, sitting way too close beside me, leaned in. “Or you’re thinking about something. Or someone.”

I elbowed her. “Stop.”

Kk, sitting across from me, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Paige smirked. “She interviewed me. Got all flustered.”

I groaned. “I was not flustered.”

“Yeah?” Paige tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “So you didn’t almost drop your camera when I complimented you?”

Azzi grinned. “Oh, this is good.”

I shot Paige a glare. “You’re the worst.”

Paige just laughed, draping an arm over the back of my chair. “Nah. I’m your favorite.”

Kk snorted. “Yeah, this is definitely a thing.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Can we change the subject?”

“Fine,” Paige said, nudging my knee under the table. “For now.”

But as the night went on, she stayed close—casual touches, lingering looks, little comments only I could hear.

By the time I left, my heart was pounding.

A week later, my professor praised my interview, and my editor asked if I wanted to do a follow-up feature on Paige.

I hesitated.

Another interview meant more flirting. More of those looks. More of whatever was happening between us.

But before I could think too hard, Paige texted me.

Pb5🙄: So when’s our next interview? Gotta keep my favorite reporter happy.

I stared at my phone, exhaling.

Then, against my better judgment, I replied.

Me: Next home game. Try to behave this time.

Pb5🙄: No promises.

And somehow, I knew she meant it.

The next home game came so quickly, I wasn’t even mentally prepared.

So, when the first half of the game had been intense, UConn leading by only a few points against a tough opponent. Paige had been playing lights-out, and I knew she’d be the one pulled for the halftime interview.

I ran over my questions in my head, reminding myself to stay professional. But when Paige jogged over after the buzzer, sweat on her brow and a grin on her face, I knew I was in trouble.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, eyes glinting as she took her spot next to me.

I swallowed hard, forcing a neutral expression. Professional. Focus.

“Paige, great first half from you,” I started, keeping my voice steady. “What’s been working so well for you and the team so far?”

She wiped her forehead with her jersey before answering. “Honestly, just playing together, trusting each other. The energy is great out there.”

A solid, textbook answer. Good. Maybe she’d keep it normal.

I nodded, moving to my next question. “You’ve been on fire, leading the team with 15 points already. What’s your mindset going into the second half?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smile just a little too amused. “Stay aggressive. Keep making plays. And, you know—keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

My breath hitched.

I knew she was doing it just enough to be subtle—flirty, but professional enough to avoid getting in trouble. Still, my ears burned.

I cleared my throat. “Right. Well—uh—” I cursed myself for stumbling, but Paige’s smirk only grew.

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Daring me.

I quickly recovered. “What adjustments do you think the team needs to make in the second half?”

Paige took pity on me, answering normally. “Just tightening up on defense, getting stops, and taking smart shots. If we do that, we’ll close this game out strong.”

I nodded, feeling my pulse return to normal. “Thanks, Paige. Good luck in the second half.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lower but still audible on the mic. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

I barely held back a reaction as she jogged off, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

And then I heard the announcers laughing.

I turned my head slightly, realizing the game commentators had been watching the whole thing.

One of them chuckled, “I don’t know about you, but I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.”

The other commentator joined in. “She’s got the confidence on the court and off it. That was smooth.”

I wanted to die.

The interview wrapped, and the second half started, but my phone was already blowing up.

Fuzzy Fudd: No way you just let that happen on LIVE TV.

Hey Arnold: Paige Bueckers is NOT real.

Icey B: Not sweetheart on a broadcast—BE FR.

Kayla Wayla: girl. GIRL.

Me: you three shouldn’t even be on your phone rn, like listening to coach fudd about the two man pick n roll p and sar been doing all night.

I groaned, clicking send before stuffing my phone in my pocket. I am never living this down.

UConn won. Of course they did. Paige went on a scoring tear in the second half, finishing with 27 points, and the team dominated the fourth quarter.

By the time I finished post-game coverage, I was exhausted—and dreading seeing our friend group.

But Paige had other plans.

As I packed up my things, she walked over, still in her warmups, a towel draped over her shoulders. “Hey.”

I glanced up, wary. “Hey.”

She grinned. “So, since I was on my best behavior tonight—”

I shot her a look. “Best behavior?”

“Okay, decent behavior,” she corrected. “I think I deserve a reward.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Bueckers?”

Paige shifted closer, lowering her voice just enough that it sent a chill down my spine. “Go on a date with me.”

My brain short-circuited. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” she said smoothly, blue eyes locked onto mine. “A real date. No interviews, no sideline reports—just us.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She smirked. “You thinking about saying no?”

I exhaled sharply, glaring at her. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” she shot back. “So? What do you say?”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “Fine. One date.”

Paige grinned like she’d just won the national championship.

“Oh, and don’t think you’re off the hook for movie night tomorrow,” she added, nudging my arm. “Kayla said we’re doing a marathon, and you’re not skipping.”

I groaned. “Paige—”

“See you there, sweetheart.” She winked before jogging off, leaving me stunned for the second time that night.

I should have known I wouldn’t make it through the night without getting clowned for the halftime interview.

Kayla’s apartment was packed when I walked in. UConn’s entire women’s basketball team, plus a few extras like me, Sam and Kariny had claimed every available couch, bean bag, and blanket-covered floor space. The lights were dimmed, popcorn bowls were already half-empty, and The Lion King was paused on the screen.

But the second Paige walked in after me, all hell broke loose.

“Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Ice called out, her smirk way too satisfied.

Caroline flexed dramatically from her seat on the floor. “UConn’s power couple has arrived!”

Azzi, the only one who usually kept it low-key, still shot me a knowing look. “I hope you’re ready for tonight.”

Paige just grinned, completely unbothered. I, however, was already regretting this.

We barely made it to an open spot on the floor before Ice turned to the TV. “Hold up, before we start, let’s go over tonight’s highlights.”

She grabbed her phone, tapped something, and suddenly, my own voice echoed through the dorm.

“Paige, great first half from you…”

I froze.

No. No, no, NO.

“ICE, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

“Oh no, let it play,” Paige interrupted, smirking.

The entire room erupted when we got to the part where Paige smoothly said, “Keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

Aubrey wheezed. Kayla facepalmed. Ice was on the floor.

KK pointed dramatically. “AIN’T NO WAY.”

I wanted to die.

“Okay, fun’s over,” I rushed, reaching for Ice’s phone, but Paige just casually leaned back, enjoying the chaos she created.

Azzi chuckled. “Nah, because the announcers even backed her up—‘I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.’”

Allie snorted. “THEY WERE ROOTING FOR HER.”

I groaned, sinking further into my spot on the floor. “This is actual harassment.”

Kayla nudged me. “It’s what you get for flirting on live TV and expecting us to ignore it.”

“I WASN’T FLIRTING.”

The entire room answered in unison: “YOU WERE FLIRTING.”

Paige, the devil herself, finally took pity on me. “Alright, alright, let’s focus on something important—like how I carried us to victory tonight.”

That successfully derailed the conversation, as the team started debating plays from the game.

But Paige?

She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “You were flirting, by the way.”

I turned my head sharply, ready to argue, only to be met with those damn blue eyes already on me.

Paige smirked. Held the eye contact.

I swallowed hard.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

Kayla clapped her hands. “Alright, we’re starting the movie! No more flirting in the corner.”

“We’re not—” I started, but KK cut me off.

“Shhh, let them have their little thing.”

I gave up. Completely.

Paige just threw an arm around my shoulders as the movie started, completely unbothered by the attention.

“Hope you like long movie nights,” she murmured.

I huffed, but I didn’t move away.

I was doomed. So, so doomed.

And, somehow, I didn’t mind one bit.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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thaatdigitaldiary · 7 months ago

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⟢ — COACH BUECKERS

⟢ — pairing : paige bueckers x fem!reader

⟢ — warnings .ᐟ : fluff

⟢ — author’s note .ᐟ : i miss overtime

⟢ — summary .ᐟ : you take your little brother to basketball practice, not realizing there was a new coach.

⟢ — tags .ᐟ : @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @cherryswisherz @tndaqlifwy @sierrale8ne @janaelalfysblunt @bueckersbitch @lovegalor333 @juspeaks @ohbueckers @omg-imtumbling @xxloveralways14 @mrsarnold @wbbgetsmewetter @lupinqs @linebg0 @authentic-girl03 @melpthatsme @ashortyluvsports @paigesbabygirl @d3arapril

enjoy! — thaatdigitaldiary

the squeak of sneakers against polished hardwood filling the gym as you pushed open the heavy double doors, your little brother bounding ahead of you with his basketball tucked under one arm. he was practically buzzing with excitement, his energy infectious despite your initial reluctance to spend your saturday morning at youth basketball practice.

“i hope coach micheal let’s us scrimmage today!” your brother said, as he bolted toward the court.

“you’d better warm up first!” you called after him, shaking your head fondly as you adjusted your jacket and stepped inside.

it was a small, community gym—the kind with fading lines on the court and slightly dim lighting. parents scattered on the sidelines, chatting or scrolling through their phones. you found a spot on the bleachers, glancing toward the court where the kids were starting to gather. but something—or rather, someone—caught your attention.

a tall figure stood at the center of the court, clipboard in hand and whistle hanging around her neck. she wasn’t coach micheal. blonde hair pulled back into a sleek bun, athletic build, and a commanding yet approachable presence…she looked familiar. too familiar.

your breath caught as recognition hit you.

paige bueckers.

you blinked, half expecting it to be some look-alike, but no—it was her. the paige bueckers. basketball star, uconn legend, and one of your not-so-secret celebrity crushes.

she clapped her hands, drawing the kids into a huddle, her voice clear but warm. “alright, team! coach micheal couldn’t make it today, so you’re stuck with me. i’m coach paige, and i’m here to make sure we have some fun—and maybe learn a thing or two about hoops. that sound cool?”

the kids erupted into cheers, your brother among them, his excitement reaching new levels. meanwhile, you just sat there, trying not to gawk like an idiot.

as practice began, you couldn’t help but watch her in awe. she moved with an effortless confidence, demonstrating drills and guiding the kids with patience and encouragement. when your brother stumbled during a dribbling exercise, she crouched beside him, her voice gentle but firm as she gave him pointers.

“you got it,” she said, offering him a fist bump. “just gotta keep your eyes up, okay?”

your heart melted a little at the sight. paige wasn’t just an incredible athlete—she was amazing with the kids, too.

after about an hour, she blew the whistle and called for a water break. the kids scattered to grab their bottles, and you seized the moment to approach her, your nerves buzzing with every step.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

she turned, her blue eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“hi,” she said, her smile easy and genuine. “you’re here with one of the kids?”

“yeah, my little brother,” you said, nodding toward him as he chugged water on the sidelines. “he was really looking forward to today. he’s obsessed with basketball.”

paige chuckled, glancing at the group. “i can tell. he’s got some good moves already—once he gets the hang of it, crossovers gon’ go crazy.”

you smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “thanks for steppin’ in today. the kids love you.”

“well, they make it easy,” she said, leaning casually on her clipboard. “plus, it’s fun to get back to the basics. reminds me why i fell in love with the game in the first place.”

her words hung in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the gym.

“so,” she said, breaking the silence, “do you play?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “nah, i just know the game. never played though.”

“nothing wrong with that,” she said, her smile turning slightly teasing. “knowing’s just as important as playing, ma.”

before you could respond, your brother ran up, his face lit with excitement. “did you see me! did you see me? i did the crossover like coach paige showed me!”

“i saw!” you said, ruffling his hair. “you looked great out there.”

paige crouched to his level, giving him an encouraging nod. “keep practicing, and you’ll be breaking ankles in no time.”

your brother beamed, running back to the court as paige stood, her gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary.

“maybe i’ll see you around?” she said, her tone light but hopeful.

“maybe,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you.

she gave you a quick wink before blowing the whistle to start the next drill, leaving you to retreat to the bleachers with a racing heart.

as practice wrapped up and you gathered your brother’s things, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance at paige. she caught your eye, giving you a small wave that made your stomach flip.

you waved back, already wondering how long it would take for your brother to ask to come to practice again—and secretly hoping paige might just be there next time.

that was until you saw a shadow behind you, and a sudden tap on your shoulder. you turn to see the blonde with her phone out.

“how about that number though, yeah?”

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bytemycupcakes · 1 day ago

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I'm so normal about Villys and Cabin Boys I spent all day making designs for all seven of them.

(click for quality sorry I'm too lazy to make them individual for easy closeups)

Design notes and headcanons under the cut!

Cabin Boys Design Motifs: Flannel shirts. Hefty footwear sporting steel toes. Fingerless Gloves and some sort of small pack (Or lots of Pockets- Etho.) "Hey guys lets all wear green and not tell Scar" /j

Scar: Vex - After being trapped in Secret Life for so long he genuinely thought Wild life may have been a dream. Now another game has begun and He's having to come to terms with Wild being a real game. And thus all the emotions coming with it. Due to his final death in the previous game via Grian abandoning him to be killed by his snail (and the general rocky dynamic they had the whole game), He's finally accepting They've DEFINITELY been broken up since Double Life. He's handling this well clearly. With all of two buttons done on his shirt, he cant keep it tucked in- He WILL claim this is for easy removal for the Hot Tub. Do Not Believe Him. His team is convinced he hasnt seen a hairbrush since his previous victory. Now that he knows Wild Life wasnt a dream, Scar supposes he's just permanently going grey now. Fun! Scar has his winners "crown" as a pseudo brand over his heart- Taking the shape of a mangled crown. His cane seems to be hand carved from Dark Oak- Wait thats not available yet? Dont Question it. He wears Hiking boots and a pack strapped to his leg. He seems to not have anything but his eye colour displaying his remaining lives.

Scott: Celestial Horse - Scott is just COVERED in Star motifs. It comes with being a celestial creature he supposes. His winners "crown" is the yellow star nestled in his half-star shaped ahoge. He has high waisted jeans with his flannel tucked into them to give the silhouette of a crop top. The flannel of course is falling off his shoulders- though his hair seems to hide it most of the time. His pack is just strapped around his waist, and his boots are- Well they have steel toes! Etho HATES that they're heels. Not Very Woodsy. But Scott's Cute so who cares really? He's keepign his tail braided- Not just for it beign a death game- but they're Cabin Boys, so He needs to make sure his tail stays out of the way. Scott's lives are shown via the two main stars on his head, the streaks in his hair/tail, and his eyes.

Bdubs: Nobody knows what he is honestly.... - Bdubs Stole his flannel from Etho because he didnt have his own and wanted to match everyone. He's been going grey since his bleached hair phase. I'm sorry I didnt pull from his old skin for his face I hate not-smiling Bdubs you cant make me not draw a smile. Bdubs has combat boots, and his fanny pack is what displays his remaining lives (its base colour will change from green to yellow to red, and the respective hearts will grey out as well) aside from the faint coloured glow in his massive eyes. The bandages around his arms arent for any injury, they're just a quick option to keep his hands protected with all the building and inevitable combat.

Etho: Artic Fox - Kakashi as a canadian mountain man. Etho is THE prepared cabin guy for this team. Sure he's got cargo pants and a thick jacket, yet He still has pockets you couldn't even understand. His jacket is flannel so he really didnt need the extra shirt- So bdubs can have it. (ethubs truther what who said that) His jacket has a patch on each arm, but only one has anything on it- Being the canadian maple leaf- The other is entirely Blank. Etho is one of very few lifers who's (not hidden) eye doesn't give away his lives- That would be great if he didnt have his headband showing it off instead. Etho's boots are shockingly high quality and even have traction spikes on them.

---

The Villians Villys motifs: Roses. Seatbelt buckled belts. Heart Patches (Pearl's is currently missing). Converse-adjacent shoe types. "eye bags".

Pearl: Grey Wolf - She is shocked to find she arrived in this game looking like a shotty recreation of her old look from 2011... Her hair is already growing out who did this dye job?? Seems the dye didnt cover up the moons in her hair though. (Her hair will continue to "grow out" to her normal brown as the season progresses). Her old apperances bright blue eye ALMOST overtakes the life-series-induced Green Eyes- So she has sectoral heterochromia for awhile. Pearl has small roses woven into a crown with moon phase emblems. Her winners "crown" is the crescent ahoge that floats above her head. Due to her win being Double Life, and Scott, already a winner, was her soul mate, her crown took a similar apperance to his- She's been covered in moons almost like he is covered in Stars because of this as well. Several games later and she still has to live with that connection to him. Pearl's outfit is as emo/scene as I could make the original skin. Featuring many belts, wedge heel knee high converse, a single fishnet glove and too many bracelets on one arm. And- Oh god who did this smokey eye look- she looks like she hasnt slept in weeks because of it. Gross! (/dram) Pearl has a studded checker belt, and her seatbelt buckled belt has its buckle looking similar to the Watchers logo as she's a previous EVO member. She is Currently missing her hoodie, and thus her heart patch- Her jacket will reappear later (whenever cc!Pearl puts on a hoodie'd skin), and the patch will be on her back. She misses her jacket :(

Grian: Avian (Cardinal) - Grian is grateful he didnt spawn in his old outfit like Pearl did- At least. He didnt entirely... He Spawned in with his Link Hat... But he was able to rip it off his head and shove it in his pocket before anyone figured out what it was. Everyone assumes it's a handkerchief or something- It's green so maybe it'll show his lives (it will not). He's wearing Kahki cargo pants and his shoes go halfway up his lower legs. They have suns embroidered into their sides. Grians seatbelt buckled belt also sports the watchers logo like Pearls. He has a pouch strapped to the belt with a poppy and some lilacs embroidered into it. He hasn't seen this pouch since 3rd life. Scar did the embraidery for him... Huh. Interesting. He's so sure he didn't base in the desert on purpose Guys Stop Looking At Him Like That- Grians winners "crown" is a glow always behind his head. Its like he glows like the sun (though Much less bright. Its tolerable- sometimes barely noticeable. But bright enough that he's not in a bad spot if he runs out of torches). He and Gem have matching large roses. His Heart patch is a third light-green to show he's down to 5 lives. And after his diamond crash out he is TIRED. He is EXHAUSTED. He's got eyebags now. Guess he matches Pearl and Gem now.

Gem: Deer - Gem. Is. Sick. Poor girl. Her eyes seem dull, her eyebags are dark. She's always sniffling and her hair is a mess. But she swears she's fine. Alongside the rose she has to match Grian, Pearl braided some rosebuds and leaves into her hair. She may have lost her pvp Match against Etho (as shown by the light green slowly filling the Heart patched to her chest), but she's keeping a sword strapped to her hip- She even crafter a little rose bulb to put on the end of it. It's just run through her belt- Shes the only oen in the team without the Watchers logo. For obvious reasons of course. Hers instead has a green button and will change with her lives. Her overalls have vines and roses embroidered down the sides, and of course she has her bi flag as always. Her shoes are checkered- a popular pattern way back in the day.

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successtea · 2 years ago

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thegoldendoorknob · 1 month ago

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RF Guardians of Azuma general tips (Spoiler-Free)

Copying my advice I made for reddit for any GoA community here too-

I updated it because reddit blew up my tips post for a few minutes and scared me lol

Story Tips

Kai, Ikaruga, Kanata, Clarice, and the other Protagonist are unlocked late in the story, so if you're having trouble raising Kai's bond, or you can only find him at night, you aren't far enough in the main quest yet. It seems like a few characters have bond levels locked behind this too, like Mauro...

The main quest expects you to level up towns once or twice before leaving, so you can get an early start before you hit that point, if you want. The 4 Villages are set up to encourage specific builds, from what I've noticed:

Spring - Farming plots

Summer - Shops

Autumn - Rice, Barns

Winter - Fruit, Fishing

Press the R3 button (right stick) or T-Key to switch to overhead view in building mode to make edits much easier.

If you hold down the button (A | X | Left Shift Key) after deleting an object in this mode, you can quickly delete anything you move the cursor over -Odd-Implement-7045

When you are in build mode, the day timer is stopped. Your RP still recharges when you're in build mode, so if you want to get some early levels for Drum Dance without eating food, you can.

When the quest says 'Pray at the Kagura Shrines' after the winter village, the shrines are on these turtle-shaped islands in the sky, not the village shrines. [Thanks AdDecent7641!]

Speaking of, monsters on islands with a tall red tower on them will be around 40-50, since they're involved with a quest later in the game.

There's some parts of the main quest where they'll stop you until you cook something specific or tame an animal. So far I've had to tame a Buffamoo, Cluckadoodle, and a Wolf.*

*You can use Fubuki and Kurama for that quest instead of the Cluckadoole and Wolf, apparently! They even have flavor text if you do -asteriuszenith

Bosses also have weapon weaknesses and elemental weaknesses based on the free weapon and divine instrument they gave you for the region earlygame. Think of it like a Zelda game; whatever tool you picked up, they expect you to use later. It's always possible to go against the flow, though the lost bonus damage is pretty noticeable this time. The weapon weakness (first icon) and elemental weakness (second) will pop up above the boss's health bar when they are hit by them.

Boss dark attacks will slam the party for big damage. I thought I was underleveled my first death, but no, it was the dark element alone blowing up my party. Maybe invest in Dark Defense equipment when you get close to level 50.

Perfect dodging an attack before attacking lets you deal big damage to enemies and boss stun bars. You also charge a lot of spirit gauge by doing them

Suzu is really easy to level bond up on and doesn't faint, so she's a great team buffer for most of the game.

If you're indecisive about who to party, I ran Suzu-Iroha-Ulalaka for almost the ENTIRE game and rarely ever had to equip them to keep up. In the lategame whenever Ulalaka was unavailable, I used Yachio as a substitute until she returned, but any healer is probably fine really.

You won't have access to Monster Barns until you complete Autumn Village, so you may want to chat your favorite characters to Bond lv1 and take them out for a spin until you reach that point. You can check their personal skills by switching to them on the Equipment menu and pressing Y | Square | X | X Key

On that note, when you unlock the 'back row' after Winter Village, the back row gains passive exp. Good for grinding characters and monsters!

Some decorations show random stats like STR, these will increase your stats when you place them in the towns! Later decorations can raise them like quite a lot, so they may be fun to experiment with. Each unique deco can only raise that stat ONCE, so duplicates won't raise the stat again. You can check what town it needs to be placed in, and if you already placed one by looking at the highlighted symbol in the crafting menu. -Haktarius

Speaking of- some decorations also need to be placed in specific villages to get their buffs. They show this with flower icons on the side in the crafting screen. -KainYusanagi

Try to pace yourself- the bond and character locks suck, but this game is deceptively long and easy to burn out on if you rush. To give you an idea- there's roughly 16 to 17 dungeons total over the course of the entire game. 4 for the seasons, 6 for the story after, another 4, then 2-3 more.

General Tips

A lot of recipes are locked behind Frog Statues, make sure you grab any you come across.

In later village levels, they'll unlock more fields for you to build on top of.

If you use the first person bow scope with the Summer Treasure equipped on top of a harvestable crop, it will sickle the crop without using any rp!

If you dash just before falling off a ledge, you maintain that dash speed through the air for GREAT air-time. This is especially helpful and fun when you get the winter sacred treasure.

Negative trait villagers will lower your town stats- evict the ones with only negative traits whenever you can.

A good time to evict negative villagers is right before the day ends- on the next day, if there's any empty slots, 2 or more new villagers will reliably fill them. -Alexaius

It helps to invest a little in logging and mining villagers early on to stockpile materials for builds later.

Fruit trees will always be a plain-colored, green tree. You can find Oranges on some cliffs around the Summer Outskirts and on that small island to the south, Apples behind the purple vines to the west of Spring Village [?], Grapes directly to the right of Autumn Village next to an ore, Chestnuts further to the right side behind all the vine walls, Bamboo shoots are to the right of the castle, and Peaches I don't know where in the overworld they might be, but I found some in a dungeon you unlock after getting Kanata. There's a traveling merchant from higher village levels that can sell saplings later, apparently!

Algester has a visual of my fruit tree directions Here!!

You can find most Golden Vegetable seeds off of islands in the sky, the mushroom master has some gold pumpkin seeds behind his house as an example. You can also buy them off basic seed shops later once a town is leveled enough.

There's a traveling merchant for every region! They will randomly show up next to teleports and appear as a white dot on the map -ego157

Onigiri holes ask for: Onigiri, Salmon Onigiri, Miso Onigiri, Tempura Onigiri, Bonito Flake Onigiri, Greatest Grilled Onigiri (Cook Together with Matsuri) -Haktarius

inkstainedgwyn is starting a Unique Dishes list! You can unlock unique dishes when you are Bond Level 6 with a character.

SEEEECRETSmuahaha has made a simple Gifting Guide for the romanceable characters! Big-Buzz-Jet recently made a more in-depth one Here!

Taming bees for their honey is a pretty good way to make money! Higher level monsters will give you higher level produce for more $$$ as well! -ego157

The DLC swim suits and the default swim suits are different! You can unlock them by reaching bond 2 and inviting them to the waterfall or beach.

Yukata outfits are unlocked on Summer 20th! You get them by attending the firework festival. They can be unlocked a little earlier on Summer 7 if you have Kanata. -Kisaell77, Haddock_Lotus

Higher bond levels also unlock some personal accessories, like Iroha's headband or Kai's mask.

#Rune Factory #guardians of azuma #if this picks up at all y'all can reblog and add stuff too #*GUIDE HAS BEEN UPDATED*

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deniable-masterpiece · 3 months ago

Note

Would it be alright if you did a Kraven x civilian husband reader? Just general HCs on how they met and their relationship with each other. Whether NSFW is included is up to you.

here you go anon! (this is probably so bad im sorryyy)

Married!Kraven x Civilian!Male!Reader

The first time you met Sergei, you met him as Kraven. It was on a work-based team-building retreat. You worked at one of the bigger firms in New York City, but your department was unfortunately one of the groups of humans that became acclimated and accustomed to the cushy luxuries of life in an office, and as expected, they weren’t well-versed in any sort of dangerous wildlife situation. What should have been an easy, moderate hike and two-day camping trip in the woods turned into a life or death situation when your group wandered off the path, far away from the rest of your coworkers. There, in the thick tree line, two imposing figures emerged: a mountain lion that was ready to make an easy meal out of your group, and shortly after, Kraven. Before Kraven had appeared, you had tried to stand up to the lion. Looking the gift of death straight in the eye and telling your other coworkers to run or at least start playing dead. When your savior did appear, he was primed and at the ready to save you from the lion, and admired your that your lack of primal skills couldn’t hold you back from doing the right thing. From still enjoying the battle, even when you would lose. He admired that, despite your lack of basic survival skills and possessing a first world exterior (big time city boy exterior), you weren’t afraid to ruin all of your cleanly material belongings—your dress shirt and pants, your expensive accessories, the organic snacks you brought to take care of your body—in exchange for protecting the ones you cared about the most.

It turns out that Kraven had been hunting the lion for a while and was rather far away from his typical base camp, but he knew the area well enough and had the tracking abilities to escort you back to the rest of your group by the end of the trip in one piece. During those two days, you got to cozy up with him by the fire and listen to his stories, how he became so skilled in surviving in the woods, and he even taught you how to make your own weapons and a few other basic survival skills. All of that made you fall for the rugged man pretty hard, and he was more than happy when you asked if you could see him again. “Do you just live in ‘the woods’ or is there an actual address carved in one of these trees?”

Kraven, while not showing it beyond a lighter—but still rugged—tone, expressed that he would happily extreme your two-day trip into a three-day one. And you got to see him for an official date in the city shortly after.

Kraven spends most of his time in the woods, there will be weekends where you drive out to his basecamp and he catches you up on any new developments. But there will also be times where he comes into the city to visit you for a few days, cleaning himself up to see your friends and family. If you manage to get him to stay over on the weekdays, he will often drop in to give you a lunch he hunted himself, and if he can't, he'll usually send you back with about thirty pounds of deer meat as meal prep for the week. As much as you miss him, it just has to be this way for him to function. Otherwise, he'll be like a stir-crazy animal trying to claw his way out of any room you put him in. He needs the wild, but there's benefits to going deep into the forest with him. The intimacy, the lack of any distractions allows the two of you to bond closer than anyone could imagine. All you have to make your own fun with is him and your imagination.

Date night also operated in a similar fashion. Each week, it would flip on who took out who and where. Kraven’s dates were often at night, moving through the woods and setting up traps to catch dinner for the next evening, or playing his own game of predator and prey, where he’d give you a head start to run deep into the woods and survive with the skills he taught you while using his own abilities to track you down. He loves testing you for how much you’ve learned and payed attention, but it has backfired in the sense that you kept learning and bettering yourself to the point that when he finally catches you can take a whole day. And what does he do when he catches you? Let’s just say it involves some natural instincts.. (More on that in the nsfw section. ) Though, he was still the one donning a suit and taking you out on dates on his expense, but he would let you pick the play—unless it was for a special occasion. Then he was the one taking the leading charge. There will be times when he takes you to the Sahara, isolated and cut off from the rest of the word. There, the sprawling Savana’s made a wide expanse to watch him roam and immerse himself in the natural setting that the dense forests north of the city, and the city itself, could not replicate. Those types of trips became common, taking place at least every month or so. Kraven would get crazy otherwise.

When you were ready to take it to the next level, he proposed to you unceremoniously. There was no fanfare, nothing out of the ordinary from your regular routine. It just... happened, in a good way. He managed to teach you to not rely on so many material possessions in order to be happy, and he was the perfect example of that. Kraven had things, but you didn't love him for the things he had, but for the person he was. The same could be said for the wedding; it was held in a nice field that the two of you discovered on one of his many hikes, and the decorations and seating were made of the most natural components found in nature. Flowers for the arch that you married him under, tree stumps and logs arranged for the seating, and large, somewhat flat rocks with moss accents for tables.

NFSW

To continue my point above about roleplaying with him in the woods, when Kraven does successfully catch you, you’re his for the rest of the day, or days if there’s an extended trip or something further negotiated. He spends the day taking you back to his base, and engaging in some heavy amounts of breeding and biting since you’re, you know, his supposed “kill.”

Generally speaking, Kraven is wildly good at sex. Not in the traditional sense where he's caring and attentive, but that he fucks intensely and it's hard not to finish every time from his powerful thrusts alone. Physically, he's well-endowed, but the way he manages to scratch an itch so deep with his cock, how he can bury himself further than anyone else can is a testament to how good he comes off as. It really is about the motions with him, but the size helps too. To put it simply, he's just a natural at sex.

You do have to teach him about lube, though, since that isn't a naturally occurring thing in the wilderness. He knows of it from his boarding school days, but he has never used it, unless you ask him to. Same for douching, if you were to top him. That kind of prep would be foreign to him or something that he never practices as a man of more primal behavior.

You can expect Kraven to have a fat, toned ass and legs to support him maneuvering around on all-fours, but it makes for a nice fuck and a nice thing to eat out whenever you get sick of foraged berries and meat. You didn't need a tape measure to know that his cock was big and girthy, rounding off at seven and a half inches, and wide enough to split wood down the middle--now imagine it splitting your ass. His balls hang low and are nice and round, swinging around like wrecking balls between his legs whenever he goes naked to prowl on all fours, and he typically shoots fountains that rival the flow of rapid waterfalls he's fucked you under.

If feet are your thing, he usually wears size 11 boots, but he isn't afraid to get his bare feet and soles dirty in the wilderness. They would definitely need a good cleaning from his husband afterwards.

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thelonelyshore-if · 2 years ago

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Meet me at the cabin. Please.

You weren’t sure what to make of it. A cryptic late night text sent from your younger sibling, begging you to meet up at your family’s old lake home. The plea for help was as concerning as it was confusing. As far as you knew, neither of you had set foot in the cabin in a decade. You had your hesitations, but Willow seemed desperate. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Everything goes downhill fast when Willow's research into childhood ghost stories lands you in a town that doesn't exist. A town where people go missing at an alarming rate, where things that aren't quite human run businesses with hungry eyes, where time runs differently.

A town you can't leave.

Something about Easthaven is wrong. A supernatural fog permeates the town, so thick you could choke…but you’re one of the only people who seems to notice it. You’re quick to realize the fog keeps the residents ignorant, keeps them passive, keeps them trapped. When people who have long since gone missing start coming back home, you realize Easthaven’s mysteries go deeper than you could have ever imagined.

Explore the magic and the horrors of the small town of Easthaven, team up with the few others who can see through the fog, and do everything you can to make your way back home.

The Lonely Shore is an 18+ supernatural horror story (and mystery) inspired by works such as Midnight Mass, The Mist, Scarlet Hollow, and Gravity Falls. A story about how sometimes places can feel like people, how easy it is to do terrible things for those we love, and how small towns have a way of eating you alive.

FEATURES:

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; trans or cis. Choose up to two sets of pronouns or input your own. Customize your appearance and develop your personality throughout the game.

Romance or befriend a cast of characters. Options for ace and aro routes, as well as three polyamorous paths.

Customize Willow, your younger sibling. Select their gender and determine what your relationship with them is. Will you rebuild a broken relationship? Or let a good one go down in flames?

Explore the world of Easthaven, a town that exists outside of time, separated completely from the rest of the world. A place where tragedy is mundane and death is around every corner. Encounter the Fog, the source of all of Easthaven’s horrors.

Build up to one of five distinct magic styles as your character comes to life; including necromancy, clairvoyance, manipulating the Fog, becoming something monstrous–or suppressing your magic instead, having it come out in uncontrollable bursts.

Solve the mystery of the Returned: citizens who have been missing for months, years, decades but who have recently started coming back home.

CHARACTERS:

Jaylen 'Jay' Jones (M/F)

A veterinarian-in-training and member of the town's Search & Rescue team who has seen Easthaven's horrors firsthand. A kindhearted but wary person who cares more about keeping people safe than they do about solving the town's mysteries. They're tired of losing people.

Yasmin Bakir-King (F)

The local librarian, a fiercely clever widow with very little patience for nonsense. Very outgoing, she's one of the most well-known figures in town. She starts the story unaware of Easthaven's dangers but very quickly gets thrust into the middle of the town's latest mystery.

Amir/Amara "Croft" (M/F)

A reclusive, ill-tempered horror author who just so happens to be the town's latest newcomer…until you show up. Croft came to town with their share of secrets, and there's nothing in the world they want more than to escape Easthaven.

Beck Dawn (genderfluid)

Fun-loving and reckless, Beck is an adrenaline junkie who can't seem to stay out of danger…despite being completely unaware of the town's secrets. A magnet for trouble, it's no surprise Beck lands right in the middle of Easthaven's latest mystery.

Ravi Singh (M)

Easthaven's local mortician. Ravi is easygoing and quick to laugh; though sometimes his humor leans towards the macabre. But his easy smiles don't cover up his almost chilling comfort with the Fog; nor do they get rid of the pile of skeletons in his closet.

Perri Loveless (M/F/NB)

Runs one of Easthaven's three radio stations. In the day they play music, and at night they host a supernatural-themed call in radio show, The Lonely Shore. Perri is an enthusiastic (if a bit awkward) person whose theories tend towards the unbelievable. It's unfortunate that, despite all of their theories, Perri has no idea what's actually going on in Easthaven.

And…

"Willow" (M/F/NB)

Your little sibling. Flighty, impulsive, and outgoing; their fascination with the occult is what lands you in Easthaven. Your relationship can range from best friends to sworn enemies. Will they be able to save you from the mess they've made?

LINKS:

DEMO | ROs | Content Warnings | Extras | Discord

( current wordcount : 333,798 without code )

#interactive fiction #if intro #choicescript #dashingdon #hosted games #if wip

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naomis-daydream · 11 months ago

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love & basketball // paige bueckers

summary: y/n and a particular uconn player get a little to close for comfort on the court, adding fuel to the fire of allegations that the two were more than rivals, quite the opposite in fact.

warnings: none?

a/n: that one game of dijonai and nalyssa? yeah.

✧

your nose scrunches in discomfort as your chin connects with the harsh wooden floor of LSU’s gymnasium. you shake your head at the sting, taking a deep breath before the blow of a ref’s whistle rings you back to reality, signaling a foul on UConn by player number five.

you two had been going back and forth the entire game. you had been crowding her shots with your defense, she’d been faking you out every time you’d think you had her. it was an entertaining game to watch, and even more interesting to play.

your team was down by six, you knew if you got a foul on UConn, you could match the score easy with two free throws. it was hard at first, if you’re being completely honest. you had to get one of the most talented college basketball players to fall into your trap. paige is a good player, a smart one, but so are you.

which brought you here, feeling the pressure of two arms wrapping around your waist, two hands planted to pull you up slowly.

you use the ball to push yourself off the ground, coming to a stand as you push your hips back slightly. paige doesn’t miss the way your ass brushes against her pelvis as you rise, sliding her hands down to your hips to steady you as you passed the ball to the ref.

she leans over slightly as the two of you approach the free throw line, whispering a small, “you good?”

you turn your head slightly but don’t avert your gaze towards her completely, giving a short nod because jogging to meet your teammates for your two frees.

paige was tantalizing, anyone with eyes could see that, but you weren’t gonna let a little slip up throw off the rest of your game, especially this close to march madness. she knew this, which is why her lips pulled into a sly smile as she took her place beside her teammates and across from yours.

nika glances at paige with raised brows, an incredulous expression laced across her face, to which the blonde puts both hands up in defense, mumbling something about simply “helping you up.” the defensive guard shakes her head, facing away from paige and to the center where you got ready to take your shot.

the arena falls silent as you dribble in place a few times, lining up your shot before sending it. you see uconn’s defense attempt to block it, but its through and through. same goes for your second shot, swishing through the hoop as the student section erupts with cheers. you leave your arm in the air, three fingers waving as the clock starts again.

you look back at paige as you begin to jog to your next position, smirking.

oh this was gonna be a fun game.

you slowly gather your belongings into your gym bag as the rest of the girls file out, voices overlapping about celebratory plans. you opt to stay back, enjoying the peace and quiet of the empty locker room after a win.

they were no doubt on their way to a local bar or the team dorm hall to round out what’s been an eventful night. it was a close game, 92-89, but LSU managed to pull through.

your post-game plans, however, involved a little less noise and a lot less people. only one, in fact.

as you exit the athletic building, you spotted just the girl you hoped to see, leaning against the brick wall, eyes focused on her phone.

“you know,” you say as you approach her,” you really shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”

her head pops up, eyes meeting yours from your position a few feet away from her.

“or what, a pretty girl might run up on me? try and steal another dub?”

“i ain’t steal nothing from you, you just gotta work harder if you don’t want me to take it.”

“ohhh,” she laughs, cocking her head to the side, “it’s like that?”

“yeah, it’s like that,” you reply, stepping closer to the girl.

the two of you hold each other’s gaze, eyes only focused one the other. you let your eyes linger over different parts of her face. the blue in her eyes, dust of heat on the apples of her cheeks, and her lips that were pulled into a smug smile.

“you came here to taunt me or are you gonna give me a hug?”

you couldn’t ignore the smile that spreads across your face as you close the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around her waist as hers drape over your shoulders, pulling you in deeply.

the two of you sway a little, rocking further side to side as the hug continues. you only stop when you almost fall over. a fit of giggles escape your lips as you regain balance, a few falling from your girlfriend’s as well.

as your laughs subsides, you pull back, just enough so you can see her face, the only noise being the hum of the outdoor lights surrounding you. you stood there for a moment taking each other in, enjoying one of the limited occasions you could do this face to face.

“you know that foul was bullshit, right?”

“oh, whatever!” you say, moving your hands to her lower abdomen as you push her away.

“you guys needed those two points to match us, it’s alright. just know it won’t happen again.”

“if you really wanna talk about what shouldn’t happen on the court, let’s talk about that little stunt you pulled, hm?” you ask, as a dragged out “alright,” leaves the other girl’s mouth.

“i was just tryna help you up.”

“oh, that’s how you help everyone up?”

paige smacks her teeth, shaking her head as she responds, “don’t act like you weren’t tryna push all up on me.” to which you roll your eyes.

a silence falls over the two of you once again. it’s comfortable and soothing, a stark contrast from the early spring chill that occupied the air around you. and again, you admired each other, doe eyes and warm-hearted smiles covering your faces.

paige lifts one hand to your chin, turning your face towards the light. she could see a small bruise on the underside, a slight frown on her face.

you can tell she feels guilty about the fall, even more so now that she sees the redness forming as a result. you wrap your hand in hers, holding it tenderly. “hey, you didn’t bruise me up too badly, okay?”

“yeah, i know,” she mutters, but her eyes are still fixed your chin.

“if you really wanna make it up to me, you could kiss it better,” you suggest.

her furrowed brows turn to raised ones, a smile lingering as a soft, “oh yeah?” leaves her lips.

“mmhm,” you nod, cupping her face, “c’mere.”

✧

#naomis-daydreams #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fluff #paige x reader #paige bueckers x reader

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minawritesfanfic · 10 months ago

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You are who you eat

Dexter Morgan x Reader

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: After lots of games it is finally time for meet Dexter in person

Part 4

Previous | Next

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The last few days were hectic, to say the least, with Dexter’s constant crew of agents surrounding him it was hard to send him any more goodies without risking exposing my identity earlier than I intended. I wasn’t sure if they’d allow me to send him treats without thoroughly expecting anything I send so I held back. Things were also hectic due to the new developments in the Bay Harbor Butcher case but also a big lead on someone the fraud department had been trying to catch for months, meaning my team was split pretty thin throughout the building trying to help with major and minor technology errors. It was absolutely insane how many calls we got where it was usually a simple fix, I love my job but god some of my coworkers are idiots. I crossed my arms over my chest with a sigh as I walked down the hallway past the homicide department towards the elevator, I couldn’t help but peek through the glad walls, I was surprised to see that Dexter and his entourage were nowhere to be seen. Though I could see him and another guy hiding away in the back, my attention was drawn away as I heard a voice call out my name. To my surprise it was Debra, Dexter’s sister, I didn’t know her very well but we had started talking more frequently as she’s needed my help quite often as of late.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you up here in a while, how have you been?” She said with a smile tucking her hands into her pockets.

“I’ve been alright considering everything that’s going on, how are you? I heard you guys found the butcher.”

“I’m alright as well, I’m just glad we’re close to putting this guy behind bars. It fucking sucks he was one of us though, you just never know what a person is like behind closed doors yknow?” I nodded stiffly trying not to laugh at the irony.

“Yeah, yeah it’s awful. The world’s a really scary place, but uh can I ask what was the deal was with all those FBI agents and your brother?”

“Ugh don’t even get me started on that, they were his protective detail just in case the butcher came after him but he fucking called them off. I was actually headed to go give him a piece of my mind about that when I saw you.”

“Well, they did seem kind of suffocating..” She gave me a look and I raised my hands defensively, “Sorry not my place, I’ll let you talk to him then.”

“Thanks, I will but uh I was wondering if you would maybe want to grab some drinks later?”

“Oh, I’m sorry not tonight, I probably won’t be done until very late. Maybe another time, first round on me?” She frowned but nodded, she patted my shoulder before storming off to see her brother.

It was great news to hear that Dexter’s constant security detail was gone but it also meant he was off to cause trouble tonight and I was going to figure out what. For now, since I have the chance I should probably send another note, I left the department and headed back to my office. I didn’t like the fact I was going to have to print it here but it would have to do for now, I didn’t want to wait too long and lose his interest and curiosity. Once I was back in my office I had to figure out what I was going to write, the other notes came easy but this one was harder to write. The big finale of our interaction was coming, the day we were set to meet in person, I was thankful I had scheduled it for a week or so after I sent the note as having him meet me with security detail would not have been fun. Now that I knew they were officially gone I could send another note confirming that I still wanted to meet him that Friday after not sending anything for nearly two weeks straight, I printed it out in my office and placed it in the bag with the double fudge brownies I had originally brought as a treat after lunch to instead give to Dexter. This time I would deliver it myself to spice things up. As I walked towards the elevator I wondered if he would try to kill me, that’s definitely something I had to consider. I know he kills murders but I don’t know the full extent of how he operates and if I’m safe from being tied down on one of his tables, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Of course that doesn’t mean I was going to meet him unarmed, I would take my own precautions. I stepped out of the elevator and glanced around making sure he was in his office and approached. I knocked on the door and held out the bag of brownies with the note as I smiled at him.

“Special delivery for Dexter Morgan.” I handed them to him and he offered them, I couldn’t help but notice the grin that briefly appeared on his face.

“Oh thank you, any chance you’re willing to tell me who this admirer is?” He asked as he set it down on his desk and looked away not expecting much.

“Sorry no can do, but I hear it won’t be long. Make sure to clear your calendar for Friday.”

I smirked and turned to make a quick exit when I saw the infamous Lila who Debra could not shut up about, she frowned and I knew she saw my interaction with Dexter and I could only imagine what she was thinking but it couldn’t be good. Before I could do anything she said goodbye to the detective she was talking to and hurried out the room towards the elevator. I sighed knowing that there was no way that this could end well, I left the department with a glance back at Dexter. It wasn’t a surprise that our eyes met again, I just smiled and disappeared out the door.

★ ✮ ★

Dexter read the note as he savored the brownie, it was delicious as always but his mind drifted to the brief conversation with a particular someone who he’d been seeing more frequently around the office. Most would say it was a coincidence but Dexter had stopped believing in those long ago with the job he had, they had to be the secret admirer or very closely involved with them. It didn’t make sense though, how could someone so normal and friendly be like him, he simply refused to believe it. From the most recent note it appears he’ll have an answer soon enough, they reiterated their intentions to meet at the beach beside Coral Cove Marina tomorrow afternoon. It was unsettling how much they knew about him and Dexter wondered if he would have to kill them, his number one rule was to not get caught and it’s not like they were innocent. But if he was interpreting the notes correctly they were likely about as innocent as he was, it was conflicting and killing them would make him the biggest hypocrite. Harry’s code has never prepared him for a situation like this. What right would he have to kill them if they worked under a similar code of conduct as he did? If what he did was just how could he persecute you for the exact thing he would be doing to you?

Rather than fretting over the ethical conundrum of his secret admirer, Dexter had other matters that needed his attention like whether or not he would have to kill this ‘Harlow’ person, after searching up his phone number it wasn’t hard to find his full name. Dexter put Christopher Harlow into the department's database, a known alias for one Jose Garza who had committed various crimes but none of which involved murder. Dexter didn’t need to kill him as long as he didn’t know where the cabin was, so he sent a quick text inviting him there to get his ‘snow’. Dexter didn’t wait long for a response and was relieved to hear that he had no clue, he tucked the phone back into his pocket and stood up. He needed to have a quick chat with Debra but more importantly, he needed more answers from Doakes. What he said had stuck with him, was Harry truly not who he said he was?

★ ✮ ★

Of course, I followed Dexter after he left work, I knew better than anyone he didn’t ditch his security detail just to lay around at home and watch tv porn. My suspicions were confirmed when he didn’t take the usual right at the light toward his apartment, I drove far behind keeping a safe distance between us to avoid being caught. Which grew harder to do as he ventured into the more rural part of Maimi, eventually he turned down a long dirt road. I watched as he took one more turn and eventually turned off his car, as I crept slowly towards the turn I could see up ahead was a very remote cabin. Now that I know where it was I could come back later to see what exactly he was doing here, for now, I had more important things to tend to like Franklin Graney.

The thirty-eight-year-old phone technician who not only kills people but violates them alive and dead, he’d just finished checking in after his last job for the day and was about to head home. He made his way to his truck but before he could even unlock it I came up behind him and used my wire garrote to strangle him, I forced him to kneel on the ground and pushed him away from me so he couldn’t reach back to scratch me. It only took a few minutes for him to pass out, I let his body haphazardly fall onto the concrete. I left him there and pulled my car up beside his, then I dragged him into my backseat. I got into the front and sighed, I peeked back at him through my rearview mirror with a frown but resolved myself to finish the job. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to paradise.

Paradise was in the basement of an abandoned hospital, specifically an abandoned hospital with a morgue built into its basement which was equipped with everything I needed. Of course, I had to rig a few things to work the way I needed them to and clean things very deeply, it was awful in here when I first found it. Now it looked quite nice and I had even decorated it to my liking, and I had taken several measures so that any wanna-be urban explorers wouldn’t be able to get down here even if they tried. It was truly perfect. I turned on my music and got to work dismembering and draining the blood to save for later.

It was nearly midnight when I finished, cleanup was messier than usual today but I got what I needed. Unfortunately I couldn’t bring any of the meat or blood I harvested home because Debra was, unfortunately, spending the night, after we went drinking the last time she confided in me about her relationship with Lundy and apparently took that as us being friends now. I wasn’t a big fan of Debra but if I was going to pursue Dexter I figured it wouldn’t be a bad thing to befriend her, so even if it was unconventional to have her over I was prepared for this. It took a lot of reading, trial, and error but I had successfully managed to rig this floor to a generator which allowed me to use the mortuary fridge. I slid out one of the chambers originally used to store bodies and set the coolers containing the meat and blood onto it, then I slid it back in and shut the door. All I had to do now was take what was left of the body and incinerate it, I chose this hospital specifically because of its incinerator. I could start and finish my disposal of the corpse in one place and didn’t have to bother traveling around to complete the job it was wonderful, I placed the remnants on a cadaver stretcher and wheeled them into the other room. I opened the incinerator door and pulled out the long tray that slides inside, I transferred everything onto it and slid it back in. Then after pressing a button and pulling the lever, the incinerator roared to life, thankfully it was advanced enough to shut off on its own. I just had to come back for the bones another day, I walked back into the main room and grabbed my bag and keys before heading out. I needed to get as much sleep as I could considering what I had planned for tomorrow.

I quietly shut my front door behind me as I slipped off my shoes, of course, Deb had just tossed hers over here haphazardly. I bent over and neatly put them to the side like mine, as I stood back up I was surprised when a light turned on behind me. Debra was sitting up on the couch still awake, I completely forgot that she was still struggling to fall asleep when she was on her own. I smiled over at her and approached.

“You really were out super late.”

“Yeah, I really needed to blow off some steam then I ended up driving around not realizing how late it had gotten.” She nodded but still looked at me a bit odd.

“I see, well I’m glad you’re back safe. I was starting to think something bad happened to you.” I gave her a spin and smiled.

“Well as you can see I’m A-okay, but I desperately need a shower and to sleep for at least a decade.” I walked past her towards my bedroom, “ Good night Deb oh and I probably won’t be at work tomorrow by the way.” I said before shutting the door behind me, I desperately needed to sleep in and prepare for my meeting with Dexter tomorrow.

I tossed my bag off to the side of my bedroom and started to undress, I grabbed my towel and got into the shower. The water was warm and poured down my back it was like a really wet and warm hug. I reveled in it as I wrapped my arms around myself, killing people wasn’t something I had ever come around to enjoying and wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my life. I had my life fucked from the beginning by people even more fucked up than I had become, so now I kill people so that I could cannibalize them. What a twisted life I was living, everyone I knew would be mortified to learn about what I do or the kinds of things I eat. Though if things continued the way they were nobody ever would, I finished showering and stepped out. The bathroom was warm and foggy from all the steam from my shower, I wrapped my towel around me before wiping away the steam on the mirror. I stared at my reflection briefly and a bloody monster stared back at me, I turned away and quickly left the bathroom. I just needed to go to bed rather than dwelling on things I couldn’t change as it wasn’t doing me any good.

Friday morning came faster than I anticipated but I made sure to call out yesterday so I slept in until ten, though it was hard to stay asleep when I had exciting plans for today. I got dressed and practically ran out the door, thankfully Deb had already left. I got into my car, I still had some time before it was noon so I decided to check out Dexter’s cabin in the woods before meeting him at the beach. I struggled a bit to remember where I was going but the closer I got the easier it was to remember, and eventually, I made it. Thankfully it seemed Dexter wasn’t here right now, I got out of the car and my clothes flowed slightly in the breeze. I nervously approached the cabin, it was old and looked damn near run down. I opened the door and was instantly met with a foul but familiar stench, I winced but stepped inside despite it and was surprised to see Sergeant Doakes locked behind a cage.

“Thank you, god, please you have to get me out of here.” He said with a relieved sigh as he stood up.

“What-what happened to you? Why are you locked up here?” I asked mostly to myself as I approached the cage resting my hand against the bars.

“It’s that freak, Dexter Morgan, he’s the Bay Harbor Butcher and he locked me in here. You have to get me out, the keys are over there.”

I frowned and I genuinely felt bad, to be honest, I liked Doakes and respected him as an officer but I couldn’t let him expose Dexter when I still had business with him. I thought for a moment debating what I should do, I didn’t want to leave him here as realistically Doakes hadn’t done anything wrong besides getting too close to the truth. Which was probably why Dexter hadn’t killed him already. It was his problem to deal with and I really shouldn’t get involved, I turned around and bolted out of the cabin despite his cries for help. I felt sick to my stomach, just leaving him there but what was I supposed to do? I had finally found someone somewhat like me, how could I throw away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this? I quickly turned my car around and drove as fast as I could back to the main road, I decided to head to the beach even though there was still time before noon. I could hang out there and wait for Dexter to arrive but also spend some time clearing my head.

★ ✮ ★

After an enlightening but also earth-shattering conversation with Captain Matthew Dexter was lost, despite that he still arrived at the beach on time to finally find out who this secret admirer was. He stood far away from the shore in the shade with his hands in his pockets, he stared off into the distance where the ocean stretched out for miles farther than he could see but he also observed the various people littered across the beach. So when someone approached him from his left he turned to see who it was, and his suspicions were confirmed though it left him with far more questions than answers. She smiled at him but seemed apprehensive and kept a safe but reasonable distance.

“See we finally met huh? I’m sure you’re already working out how to get rid of me in your head which I wouldn’t recommend unless you want everyone at the office to know it was you. I’m just here to talk, now can we do that or are you going to take care of me like you did Roger?” Despite her body language showing how anxious from her eyes Dexter could see she wasn’t afraid.

“I have to admit I’m impressed by how bold you are, but you know me well. I won’t kill you for now just don’t give me a reason to.” He said narrowing his eyes slightly for a moment daring her to try something, “Why have you been sending me these gifts, what is it that you want from me?”

“That’s a great question, honestly at first I was just messing with you but then I grew curious once I found out you were the infamous Bay Harbor butcher. We operate in similar ways and I was a bit envious of how neatly you worked, at some point I started to look up to you and maybe even develop a crush.” She admitted turning away and walking further towards the beach, “It’s not every day you meet a serial killer especially one with morals. I figured we could be friends or something.” She said with a laugh as Dexter followed slowly behind her as they walked along the beach.

It was weird for Dexter to hear the words ‘serial killer’ fall so casually from her lips as she laughed like it was the most innocent thing in the world. Dexter’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions and complex thoughts, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they asked to meet him here. But he definitely wasn’t expecting a genuine love confession, sure they had been sending him notes under the guise of a secret admirer but he assumed it was just an excuse. Not to mention he was still conflicted as you did have morals on killing like he did so it’s not like he could justifiably kill you, this entire situation was baffling. Dexter couldn’t say he wasn’t attracted to her though, despite being weary she still carried herself with a confidence and aliveness that he didn’t have. He couldn’t wrap himself around how she could when they were the same, what did she have that he didn’t?

“That was a bit forward, wasn’t it? I’m sure this is kind of a lot.” She said with an awkward laugh, Dexter wondered if she could read his mind.

“I just never imagined I would find someone like-minded, but you want to be friends? How do I know you won’t just betray me?”

“Uhh I don’t know…” She paused thinking for a moment weighing her options in her head, “I could give you the location to my kill room? Then you could give me something more concrete about, uh let’s call it our hobby, then we’ll be even. Is that good enough for you?” Dexter thought for a moment, he hesitated but he’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t desperate for a connection much like this one.

“Sharing our vulnerabilities would be enough for me to consider this friendship, I keep my tools in a secret compartment in a chest in my apartment.” Dexter frowned as soon as the words came out his mouth, why did he tell her that, he could be risking his entire well-being just for some woman. But after everything going on with Rita and Lila, he needed someone more like-minded and rational.

“Oh so that’s what was in that trunk, I knew it was suspicious. Well, there’s this abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town that closed a little over a decade ago, in the basement is where I keep everything and do my work. There now we both have a safeguard in case of the other.”

“Yes, mutually assured destruction.”

“Exactly, but now for the other reason I invited you here. I do want to actually get to know you as a person Dexter, so how do you feel about treating this as an actual date?” She extended her hand out to him offering to hold hands.

Dexter mused for a moment with an unreadable expression as he stared down at her hand, “An actual date doesn’t sound bad. That’s fine with me.” He laced his fingers between her and she smiled.

“Perfect, I should probably start by introducing myself.” She told Dexter her name and he remembered Debra mentioning her once or twice, “Anyway do you know why I chose this beach?” She asked.

Dexter nodded and listened quietly as the woman went into a long speech about why she had chosen this beach besides its connections to Dexter. They walked along the shore as she did hand in hand with the sun shining down on them from high in the sky, from afar they appeared to be a normal-looking couple on a normal date. Dexter still wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, but he was at least enjoying the company as she made for a decent conversationalist. Not to mention he didn’t have to sugarcoat what he said because of a certain hobby of his because she understood, it was refreshing for him. Intoxicating even, his grip on her hand tightened slightly as he stared forward listening carefully to her words.

★ ✮ ★

We ended up walking along the shore talking for several long hours, well I did most of the talking as Dexter wasn’t exactly the chatty type which was fine. He still responded and was actively listening to what I said and occasionally when the topic broached something he was passionate about then he became chatty, but just as quickly he’d go quiet as if he was afraid to be passionate about anything. It was odd but I decided not to comment on it, as it was still the first date and I would have plenty of time to learn about him. Especially about the way he operated, and at some point our conversation drifted that way. I had seen his neatness in person, and I complimented him on how amazing it was that he never left a crime scene. He was very interested in how I disposed of my bodies though, I kept it vague and only talked about the incinerator. It was too early to talk about my cannibalism, I’m sure that’d scare him off faster than I could say, cannibal.

Eventually, the conversation strayed away from our extracurricular activities, we talked about our masks and he was curious how I hid who I really was so well, we talked about family, our normal pass times, and at some point the meaning of life. It was nice being able to let go like this, not having to hide what I do because someone wouldn’t understand. It was like I was breathing for the first time, and from the relaxed smile on Dexter’s face, I could tell he felt the same. I glanced past him and could see the sun setting over the horizon, it was a beautiful sight and the sun illuminated Dexter with a warm glow.

“This is so nice, I feel like I just let a huge weight off my chest. Not to mention the sunset is amazing, it’s so beautiful.” I said walking towards it as Dexter followed closely behind me as our hands were still linked.

“Yeah, admittedly this is kind of nice. I almost feel alive.” He said staring out at the sun with his hand on his heart.

“News flash buddy, you always were alive. You’ve been living every moment, I think you just can’t see it.” He glanced at me but didn’t respond so I changed the topic, “So does this mean I get a second date? I think this went too well to end with one.”

“Yeah, I think a second date would be quite nice.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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