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exhaslo · 5 months

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Puzzle Pieces Ch.5

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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You could feel how hot your cheeks were still. Ever since you had kissed Miguel's cheek, you couldn't stop thinking about him. He was so nice to you and such a gentlemen. Honestly, all you saw were green flags coming from him. You really wanted to keep seeing him and talking to him and just, enjoying how you felt around him.

You were currently at work, wrapping some meat for a custom order. It was strange. Immediately after your first date with Miguel, your work load got easier. You didn't feel as stressed or tired anymore that you were actually able to eat normally again.

"The usual?" Your supervisor asked.

Your ears perked up, turning your head. There was Miguel, whispering something before a bunch of men entered the third freezer. You watched as Miguel slowly walked by you, his hand swiftly patting your head.

Oh, you loved it when he did that. Miguel had started to pat your head every now and then. It was a small token of affection, but it made your body feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You thought it was silly, but you wanted Miguel to keep showing you such small affection like that.

"Clock out when I finish," Miguel whispered.

Your ears perked up and just nodded to his request. Once he entered the freezer, you scurried to your supervisor and informed him of your early leaving. Your supervisor just agreed with ease and let you finish your work.

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Miguel just drank in every loving look you gave him. It felt like you were so close to being his, but Miguel hasn't even kissed you yet. He was still warming you up to be his little wife. Miguel needed to know how comfortable you were with his part of his life.

Sitting against his chair, Miguel watched as his men took care of another Goblin Society member. He hummed towards the man's screams, still recalling your adorable expression to his head pats. Honestly, how innocent could someone be?

"Miguel, he isn't talking." Peter whispered. Miguel lazily glanced towards the pathetic man,

"Hobie, do whatever."

"Aye, finally."

Miguel leaned back, not interested in this anymore. He already had a long night dealing with Alchemax work, only to wake up to this fool snooping around his base. Miguel just needed his dose of stress reliever, aka you.

Once the screams finally stopped, Miguel inhaled deeply. He stood up and walked towards the body then faced his men. Taking a look at his watch, Miguel grunted lowly.

"Tighten security. The fact that such a worm like this attempted to sneak around is pathetic." He spat then turned towards Ben, "You and Jessica go to the port and check the shipment. I don't want anymore surprises."

With a wave of his hand, Miguel left the freezer first. He walked through the maze of boxes and exited. The hallway where the freezers were was empty as usual. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Miguel walked down the hallway, towards the deli.

You were looking better. It had only been two weeks since your first date, but things were changing for you for the better. Miguel made sure to have a word with the supermarket. He was going to take care of you little by little. You were deserving of his affection.

He on the other hand, did not deserve yours, but Miguel was sure as shit going to take it.

Making eye contact with you, Miguel watched as you hurried to clock out and get your stuff. Miguel was a greedy man. He always took what he wanted. That or it just happened to land on his lap, just like you did.

"S-Sorry, d-did I make you wait long?" You asked.

Miguel patted your head, enjoying the look you gave him. If only he knew it was this easy to win your heart. Miguel would have done this from the start.

"As promised, you get to pick the place for our date," Miguel said with a warm smile, walking you out of the supermarket.

"I-I saw there is this H-Halloween event in Central P-Park. P-Pumpkins, apple p-picking and some o-other stuff. C-Can we go there?" You asked him. Miguel helped you into the car,

"I'm not going to say no if it's where you want to go,"

"R-Really?!"

Watching you smile brightly, Miguel couldn't help but give in. If you wanted something, he was going to give it to you. Call it love, but Miguel was falling for you hard. His little bunny deserved everything, especially if you were going to be his.

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You squealed lowly as you and Miguel arrived at the event. Practically jumping in place, you grabbed Miguel's hand, wanting to look around. This was something new and actually fun. You hadn't had a chance to leave your apartment to do anything like this.

"Wah, look at those!" You whispered, spotting some stands that sold desserts.

Miguel just watched you, keeping his composure as he followed your every whim. Right now, he was outside his territory. Buying you a cupcake, Miguel watched as you stayed close to him, nibbling happily on the treat.

You couldn't stop smiling as you munched on your cupcake. For once, you actually went somewhere that you wanted to go. Not only that, but Miguel was treating you like his girlfriend. Following you around and getting you treats. It was making your heart flutter. Gripping his sleeve, you tried to hide your face as you kept enjoying your treat.

Miguel kept his arm was wrapped around you waist, keeping an eye out. Some of his men were around to keep guard, but Miguel still had to be careful. After all, everything worked out when he took care of it himself.

Miguel's goal was to have the whole city of Nueva York under his command. He was almost there, but there were still some small gangs and enemies who tried to stand in his way. Miguel wasn't going to let those scum win. Not when he was so close to being in charge of everything.

"Mhm~ Sure you don't want one?" You asked. Miguel leaned down towards you, his forehead against yours,

"If you let me lick off your crumbs," He whispered, watching your face turn bright red.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he wiped some frosting off you lip and proceeded to lick it off his finger. You squeaked and hid your face in your sleeve, while he scrunched up in disgust. Miguel was never a fan of sweets, but he'll do anything for you.

"W-Want....Want to pick out a p-pumpkin?" You asked lowly. Miguel played with you hair in response,

"Sure,"

You threw away your wrapper, still holding onto Miguel's hand. Your heart was racing since Miguel was the one who asked you to hold onto him at all times. You were feeling embarrassed. These dates were making you want Miguel more and more.

You were just scared.

Scared of another Eddie. You gave yourself the better of the doubt, wanting to believe Miguel to be different. So far, he sure did feel different, but deep down...You were still terrified of him turning around and turning into another Eddie.

Stopping at the pumpkin patch, you curiously looked around, wanting to distract your mind. You were having a good time with Miguel. It was best to avoid thinking about the past. Once you found the perfect pumpkin, you cheered quietly. You wanted to try and make your own pumpkin desserts. Give them to Miguel as a gift for taking good care of you. Picking up the pumpkin, you smiled and showed Miguel.

Right as you did, an explosion happened.

Miguel immediately grabbed you, pulling you into his embrace as he signaled his men to check it out. Miguel cussed lowly as he recognized the laughter to be Goblin's and his crew. Holding your head in place, Miguel swiftly picked you up and took you back to his car.

"M-Miguel," You whimpered, shaking as you still held your pumpkin.

"My driver will take you home. Text me when you arrive."

"W-Wait," You whimpered, putting your pumpkin down and hugging Miguel's waist, "P-Please...Please don't go."

"I have to," Miguel stroked your cheek and placed a firm kiss against your forehead, "Text me when you get home, mi amor. (my love)"

Your lips quivered as the car drove off. You watched as Miguel pulled out a gun and ran back to where the explosion was. Tears rolled down your cheek as you trembled in fear. You just wanted him to hold you a bit longer and tell you that everything was okay.

That's all you wanted.

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Miguel cussed in Spanish, angry that his date got ruined. Things were moving along quite nicely. Miguel actually felt like you were ready for him to kiss you. But, of course, like everything else good in his life, something had to happen.

"Take them down,"

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After a few hours of endless shooting and fighting, the Goblin and his crew ended up giving up. Well, Miguel got his hands dirty and beat the living shit out of the Green Goblin himself. Once the cops showed up, Miguel and his Spiders disappeared from the scene, leaving nothing but their webs of destruction.

Riding with Peter, Miguel finally looked at his phone and saw your text. He grunted lowly, recalling your tears before he parted. In an annoyed and demanding tone, Miguel told Peter to drop him off at your place.

It was a surprise, but Peter happily agreed. Teasing Miguel about finally finding love and whatnot. Miguel tuned him out since he knew that Peter was just going to show him more pictures of Mayday, his child.

"Peter, why don't you do something productive instead?"

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You whimpered lowly as you took the batch of pumpkin cupcakes out of the oven. You were still waiting for Miguel to text you back. It had been hours since you've heard from him. Five hours to be exact and you only knew that because it took you four hours to boil the pumpkin for the puree.

Placing the cookies down to cool, you gasp as you heard your door bell. Quickly, you rushed over and glanced at the peep hole. Seeing Miguel, you opened the door and tackled him in a tight hug. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried softly.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back inside.

"I-I was s-so s-s-scared! M-Miguel, p-please..." You whimpered into his chest, then gasped moving away, "S-Sorry! I-I'm getting your shirt d-"

"I don't care about my clothes," Miguel shut the door and pulled you back into his embrace, "How are you? No lingering pain from that explosion earlier?"

This a new. Your eyes widen as tears rolled down your cheeks as Miguel observed you. He was worried about you. Asking about how you were doing. No one had ever asked if you were ever doing okay. Shaking, you gripped Miguel's sleeves and hugged him again.

"Thank you," You whispered. Miguel sighed as he stroked your hair,

"Sit down, Mi pequeño conejito (my little bunny). I need to talk to you,"

You slowly followed Miguel to your couch, rubbing your eyes. You sat beside him, noticing the furrow in his brows. This was the most annoyed you ever seen him. You played with your sleeves, worried about what this could be about.

"I need you to know about what else I do, aside from being a CEO at Alchemax."

Miguel glanced at you, watching you fidget in your seat. He scoffed lowly, wondering what you were nervous about now. Gripping his hands, Miguel tried to hold this out as longer. It was always a risk telling someone about his mafia business. He had to secure their silence before revealing his secret.

But how could he do that to you?

You could have gotten injured today because of the Goblin's bullshit. Miguel wanted to protect those he cherished. His mafia group was made to protect the innocent, despite how it seems. Fixing his posture, Miguel turned towards you.

"(Y/N), what do you know about the mafia?" He asked, making eye contact with you. You flinched,

"Um...I've watched...the G-Godfather."

"Dios Mio. (My God). Alright, my fault there, I set the bar too low," He said with a grin, "How do you feel about underworld business?"

"Hm...Not sure...what you mean,"

"(Y/N), is there anything you know about the criminal world?" Miguel asked, honestly wondering your innocence. You shook your head,

"N-Not really, just that...it's bad stuff. Um, I-I was always told...t-to keep my nose down...a-and not...not know about anyone."

Miguel raised you chin, his thumb trailing your cheek. His eyes motioned you to come closer, to which you did. Miguel could see the curiosity in your eyes. The anticipation you had the closer to got to him. Miguel kept his hand against your cheek, his body turning to face yours.

"How would you feel if I was one of those bad people?" Miguel whispered, his other hand bringing you waist closer to him.

"Y-You're not...bad to me," You whispered.

"Oh, but I am,"

Miguel's smirk grew wider as he sat you on his lap, his lips drawing closer to yours. Once he had you secured, Miguel stole your lips in a deep kiss. Your lips were soft and your grip was light. It was strange, but Miguel felt a connection.

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You trembled slightly as you drew closer to Miguel. Your body was getting hotter as your heart raced faster. Once you were on his lap, you resisted a whimper. His touch was so soft and warm. He was gentle as he stole your lips with a kiss.

You felt weak as Miguel kissed you. His kisses were deep, rough, but somehow kind. His hand held your head while his other held your waist. You could feel your body heating up. Parting your lips for air, you whimpered lowly as Miguel took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

Another whimper escaped your throat as you gripped onto Miguel's shirt. As if he understood, Miguel broke the kiss, letting you catch your breathe.

"Sorry, got carried away there," Miguel whispered, holding your waist still. You shook your head,

"I-It's fine...I enjoyed it." You admitted shyly.

Miguel raised a brow as you stopped shaking. He raised his hand to your cheek again, watching you nuzzle into his palm. He smiled, finally giving into what Peter said. Miguel pulled you into a hug, letting you rest against him as he stared at your shitty cieling.

You belonged to him now. Miguel was going to hold off telling you about his mafia business. As much as he wanted to inform you now, Miguel had to make sure you were secured with him before saying anything. It will take some time though.

"Miguel," You whispered, slowly falling asleep, "I...made you...some pumpkin cookies,"

"I'll make sure to try them," Miguel hummed.

Once you fell asleep, Miguel inhaled deeply. You smelled delicious, probably from your soap. Miguel rubbed your back, his eyes glancing at the rim of your shirt. He wanted to see what you were hiding, but he knew that you needed to tell him.

That and he might lose his temper if there was something he did not want to see.

"Best not to think of that. Let me just enjoy this moment."

Closing his own eyes, Miguel decided to rest. He was comfortable with having you in his arms. This was a first and defiantly, not the last.

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @@lynxslokley

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel atsv #miguel x you #astv miguel

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oldschoolfrp · 2 months

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In the beginning there was Dungeons and Dragons™ -- Original Dungeons and Dragons, later called the Collector's Edition. Then there were Greyhawk and Blackmoor and Eldritch Wizardry, which were essentially Expanded Original D&D. Then came Advanced D&D (which was advanced Original D&D), and Basic D&D (which was basic Original D&D). And ultimately, we have Expert D&D, which is expert Basic D&D, not expert Original D&D, or expert Advanced D&D; and Expert Basic D&D brings it all to the same approximate scope as Original D&D. One gets the impression that the TSR crew spends its off-hours designing mazes for rats to become lost in.

Aaron Allston summarizes the history of D&D editions through the first 8 years, from the opening paragraph of his review of Cook & Marsh's Expert D&D rules in The Space Gamer 38, April 1981. His review is generally positive, noting that it is much better edited while fixing some but not all problems with the original game:

I wish I had had the Basic D&D series when I began gaming. The rules sets are legible, indexed, punched for 3-hole notebooks, reorganizable, and, best of all, understandable. One actually can learn the game from the rules, something not possible with Original D&D. That is, however, perhaps the most annoying part about this set of rules. With sufficient playtesting, it could have been released seven or eight years ago, instead of the original set. This series is the product of hindsight.

The complete 1981 B/X D&D (Moldvay's Basic and Cook & Marsh's Expert) remains one of the best-loved early versions of D&D, directly inspiring many of the OSR clones like Labyrinth Lord and Old School Essentials.

#Aaron Allston #Dungeons & Dragons #D&D #gaming history #dnd #The Space Gamer #Dave Cook #Steve Marsh #Expert D&D #OD&D #BX D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #Space Gamer #1980s

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busycloudy · 9 months

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HIIII HOW R U i saw ur 100 follers event and went: OMG UESS LETS SEND IN A ASK

So Can u do romantic chenya hcs or fic on a reader who is bffs with leona but chenya is like actively trying to rizz reader up? Pls twll me if this doesnt make sense and feel free to delete this if ur not in the mood for it :D

Oh ans pls make it gender neutral but female is fine too tyy and make sure to take care of urslef :D

Thanks for asking red! im doing good👍 I loved the idea and writing this, so I hope you enjoy!(I'm not sure if I did this correctly so if I didn't I'm truly sorry!)

A Jealous Cat

• Reader is gender neutral and goes by they/them pronouns

• Ft: Chenya and Leona

• Tw: None

• A fluffy and crack(?) fanfic

• Chenya and/or Leona might be a bit ooc

• Hope ya enjoy! ______________________________________________________________

You and Leona were best friends. Ever since you came to NRC you became friends with Leona at some point, but also a certain cat started to talk to you more. This was Chenya of course! When the two of you first met in the Heartslabyul maze you didn't talk much, but when you and Leona started to become better friends Chenya started to hang out with you more and more, and became a bit clingy to. It wasn't so often when Chenya left Heartslabyul, but for some reason he did a lot more. You would always find his arms on your shoulders, or his tail wrapped around your waist. Especially when you was with Leona he would do this. You were talking to Leona about what Ace and Grim did this morning until you felt a sudden weight on your shoulders. "Boo!" Chenya grinned ear to ear. You just simply sighed, used to his antics by now, and continued talking to Leona about what happened. "Why do you always hangout with this feline? Y'know, I'm much more paw-some, and energetic at that" Chenya interrupted again, wrapping his tail around your leg. You could see Leona slightly scowl, and at that Chenya's grin grew wider, maybe even sticking his tongue out to, but of course you were unaware of this. "C'mon Herbivore, let's get away from this pampered prince" Leona attempted to take you away but Chenya interfered. "Last time I checked Kingscholar you were a prince. Although, I don't recall me being one" Chenya had a small grin on his face. "It won't hurt if we stay with Chenya a bit longer Leona" You said. Leona mumbled "Fine" and you could hear the reluctance in his voice. You and Chenya then started talking. You'd sometimes go back to talking to Leona, but Chenya always found a way to get your attention back. When you and Chenya talked his face slowly got closer to yours, he always made teasing or flirty remarks. Wait...He was...Flirting with you!? The moment he said another flirty remark you instantly became flustered. What was you supposed to do in this situation!? You turned back around to Leona to try and get your mind off of this and started to talk. Chenya let the two of you talk for a moment, his head resting on the top of yours. Eventually Leona left, but before he did so he gave Chenya a quick glance, then finally leaving. As some days past you and Chenya got along more and more, eventually telling each other your feelings, and Leona supports your relationship. ______________________________________________________________

A/N: I think Leona would be a bit protective of you when around Chenya at first, but when you and Chenya's relationship gets stronger he would have trust in Chenya. Maybe a little frenemy thing going on? We love a protective and supportive bestie <3

Hope you liked it red! And again, I'm truly sorry if this is not what you wanted!

(Forgive me for my lack of cat puns)

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #chenya x reader

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svmjaeyvn · 30 days

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love maze, s.jy.

chapter nine pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER NINE: JEALOUSY

previous masterlist next

word count: 4.1k

warnings: minjun is being a stalker, that’s sort of it??

a/n: IM SORRY IVE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG. i’m working + doing an internship at the same time so im exhausted everyday since being an adult SUCKS so i’ve neglected writing (though i have a new idea for a smau lol) and this not that great but i wanted to provide something for you guys </3 jake is down horrendous and not even hiding it now it’s crazy

"PLEASE STOP STARING," Ni-ki whined, throwing an ice cube in Jake's direction who was perched at the counter with a giddy smile. You were on the other side of the store, in the midst of barring out drinks before turning to help your coworker with a unsatisfied customer.

It was different to see you in your element, of course to you it being a mere barista job but Jake couldn't deny how much a leadership position suited you. You were good at quite literally everything, barely paying him mind when he waltzed in 20 minutes ago due to the afternoon rush but seeming calm and collected as you handled the line of drinks that seemed never ending. You looked as pretty as ever in his eyes, your haired pulled up by the clip in your hair and bare skin that seemed to be glowing.

You were called in last minute by a fellow shift as they weren't able to come in due to an emergency. Knowing Ms. Cho would've been the one to cover, something you couldn't bare to make her do as she was meant to take the week off due to spraining her wrist, and not wanting to leave Ni-ki hanging you canceled on the previous study-date you had scheduled with Jake much to his disappointment.

Lo and behold though, said boy decided that he had all the time in the world to wait for you. After you called him on your break, excited that a coworker would be coming in to do the closing tasks, telling him you'd be off at 6:30 instead of 10, Jake stopped by an hour before your shift would end deeming that allowing him to treat you to dinner would make up for the raincheck.

"Bro honestly, I know she's your girlfriend but can't you go sit down at least," Ni-ki's voice breaks his thoughts once more. Jake merely rolled his eyes, waving off the boy who looked exasperated by his presence.

"Yah, whatever. You're just bitter 'cause you’re bitchless," Jake began to tease, watching as the younger boy rolled his eyes and discretely flipped him off without the other customers taking note.

There was a familiar jingle from the door, Ni-ki's eyes looking past him to greet whoever walked in but his face turned into one of visible disgust. Immediately making his way in your direction without a word, Jake curiously turned around with his brows frowned to see what caused such a reaction.

A small scoff left Jake's lips, watching Minjun b-line to where you were behind the bar with Ni-ki glued to your side and staring him down like a guard dog. A small smirk picks at his lips, Jake waiting patiently, watching from afar to see what he planned on saying as you'd be able to handle it yourself.

"___," Minjun spoke, attempting to gain your attention but you merely lifted your gaze for a second as you focused on the drinks you had sequenced. "Can we talk?"

"I'm busy," You said dryly, sending him a pointed look as you were on shift quite literally in the middle of working. "If you need something you can ask my other staff to help you,"

"Are you seriously going to ignore me?"

"Are you seriously showing up to my job when I told you to leave me alone?" You shot back, brow raising in disbelief. "It's harassment, do you want me to call the cops?"

Minjun bit his lip, seemingly collecting his thoughts to carefully piece what he intended to say next. "You're ignoring my texts, how else am I supposed to talk to you?"

"I blocked you," You answer with a small shrug. "I don't want to talk to you. We have no reason to either way, it was your idea to move on with our lives in the first place so I don't see what you need from me now,"

"It was a mistake," Minjun attempts but a loud scoff comes from your end at his words. Feeling yourself grow more and more annoyed, you take a second to collect your thoughts, having to silently remind yourself that there were a handful of other customers that you still needed to be portrayed to in a professional light.

Your eyes flickered to the left, feeling the familiar gaze boring into your side. You met Jake's look, his brows slightly pinched as he held an unreadable expression glancing over Minjun. His arms were crossed against his chest, leaned against the front counter while his head tilted in the smallest of ways meeting your eyes. Silently indicating whether of not you wanted him to intervene, you shook your head, turning over to Ni-ki who was still on gaurd just a step behind you.

"Can you take over for me?" You ask the younger boy, his eyes softening as he glanced down to you with a small nod. Telling Sooyun the same, you leave the two on the floor to handle the customer flow and walk away from Minjun without a word. He attempted to follow along the counter that kept you separated, only to stop short noting how you met Jake at the break that separated the workers and customer side.

"You okay?" Jake asks softly, his hand finding its place in your own as he traced his thumb over your palm in attempt to offer some ease to your mind.

"I don't know why he keeps trying," You mumble out, swallowing the lump in your throat while Jake pursed his lips. You had to admit, no matter how unaffected you attempted to seem, having Minjun back and weaseling his way into your life was slowly opening up old wounds that never fully healed. It felt exhausting seeing his face, much less feeling trapped in your own workplace since that seemed to be his resort to finding you no matter how many hints you've given to leave you be.

"You want me to call the guys and we can jump him out back?" Jake offers, the teasing in his voice caused you to laugh though the glint in his eyes made it hard for you to tell if he was entirely joking. "I could take him on my own but I'm sure Jay wants a few hits at him anyway,"

"So does Ni-ki," You snicker, glancing over to the boy who had his eyes trained on Minjun with a menacing glare. "I don't have the money to bail all seven of you out though so let's not do that,"

A cocky smile fell upon Jake's lips knowing well enough his next words would cause you to grimace. "It's okay baby, I'm rich remember?"

You roll your eyes but couldn't refrain from the small laugh that fell from your lips. "You're annoying," You huff, though the giggle that filtered through your words had Jake smiling from ear to ear. Leaning closer, he's quick to place a kiss to your lips, your eyes widening as you pulled away with a tsk. "I'm on the clock, stop making me look like a bad worker,"

"No one's looking," Jake reassures, not even sparing a glance around the room but he's sure of himself. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you in closer and technically he was right, the large pastry case and stack of boxes that you had yet to be able to put away had blocked a significant amount of view of where you two stood, someone would have had to come around the corner to see you two if they really wanted to.

A clear of someone's throat caused the two of you to pull away from the giddy bubble you were in. Your annoyance flooded back in a second while Jake lazily looked over his shoulder, his eyes lighting up taking note of Minjun who stood with a dark expression.

"What's up man?" Jake smiled, turning as he said so but still keeping one arm draped around your waist though you shifted slightly in your spot. His grip tightened feeling how you attempted to move, squeezing your hip as a silent way to tell you to stay in place at his side. "You need something?"

"Can you give us a minute?" Minjun's words were short and clipped, the visible annoyance dripping from his persona.

"Don't think so," He hummed with the click of his tongue. "M'names Jake," Holding out his hand with a cheeky smile, Jake waited for Minjun to introduce himself. You had to refrain from the laugh that wanted to spill from your lips, the obviously annoying but polite tactic one you wouldn't have guessed he'd play but it seemed to work better than being possessive or immediately hostile.

"Minjun," Was all he replied with, not bothering to complete the handshake Jake intended. Turning his gaze to you, he near pleaded in a softer tone. "Can we just talk?"

Jake let out a loud sigh, dropping his hand with the shake of his head. "You know, man, I wouldn't have held nothing against you but you're really making my girl uncomfortable," His previous bubbly expression was gone, now replaced with a bored one that shamelessly glanced over Minjun. "You know me personally, I don't go for girls I broke up with, especially after she told me to leave her alone and she has a new man. That's just me though,"

"No offense man, but I know you two just got together. Your new relationship doesn't compare to us," Minjun shrugs while you let out a laugh of disbelief. You and Jake were more comfortable together, by miles, in a short amount of time even if your relationship was based on a facade. After the first two months with Minjun, it felt as though you were walking on eggshells everyday to keep him around, a feeling you remember all too well and ridicule yourself for staying in for so long.

"I mean, you're the ex for a reason right? Our relationship s’not supposed to be like yours," Jake shrugs, a humorless laugh left his lips.

"You guys don't even make sense together!" Minjun was now speaking to you, gesturing between you both with an exasperated expression. "His life is completely different from yours and you know it, why waste time now when it won't even work out,"

You frowned yours brows, not knowing how much he had looked into Jake but either way, being so ambient on your differences seemed to rub you the wrong way. What exactly was he entailing? The fact that Jake was a party guy or he was rich? You grew up attached to the hip with Jay, sure you weren't directly apart of that life but you did know how to act with a cocktail dress and dinning etiquette when you needed to. You truly lacked nothing if the relationship was real and so far, Jake didn't either.

"It's cute to know you've been thinking about me," Before you were able to voice your thoughts, Jake beat you to it. His tone was teasing, though there was a slight edge to it indicating that the cat and mouse play going back and forth was something he began to grow tired of. His had squeezed your hip, somehow subconsciously knowing that your agitation grew as well, it a silent reminder that he was there for you.

Minjun scoffed, seemingly ready to retort but Jake shook his head. "You know, I don't really like being a dick and all," He starts, a small huff of air leaving his lips as if it pained him to continue. Jake's eyes flickered to you, he winked before the bored look was sent back toward Minjun. "But I do take advantage of the benefits that come from my family. Let's just make it easier on all of us since getting the lawyers involved is always so messy, yeah?"

Your eyes widened slightly, certainly not having any thought of any legal precedent but the threat should've been more than enough to get his point across. You felt a shiver run up your spine, thinking back to weeks ago when you got yourself into the situation you were now. She totally would've sued me.

There was a clear of the throat that broke the tension between you three. Ni-ki making his presence known as he sends Minjun a rather large, but most obviously fake, smile.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave since I've had a few customer complaints from the situation that's occurring," He says in his peppy customer service voice, the faux sympathy in his tone adding salt to the wound. Looking around, you take note of the lie considering the lobby had cleared out significantly and not a single person in sight was paying any mind to what was occurring in the corner but you were certainly thankful for the deescalation.

Minjun doesn't say a word. His eyes lock with yours, the silent communication causing you to feel uneasy. For a split second, you almost felt bad for him seeing the look of pleading sincerity, for a second he seemed like the boy you once knew and you couldn't deny the slight tug in your heart that longed for the past. But as Jakes’ hand made its presences know on your back, you shook out of the temporary daze, you subtly moved behind him, using Jake as a shield of sorts and looking away.

You weren't naive enough to fall for that. And your thoughts proved right as Minjun's expression changed in an instant, the look of anger and annoyance familiar but he merely turned and made his way out of the shop without hesitation.

The bitter feeling caused your stomach to turn, picking at the skin of your fingers as you pulled out your phone to check the time.

"You okay noona?" Ni-ki carefully asked, His brows were pinched, a slight frown at his lips taking note of your visibly discomfort.

You nod, placing a smile on your features but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You looked behind him, seeing Sooyun working by herself. "I'm alright, I need to finish my pull before Hejin comes in so support where you can for now," You delegate, already heading toward the back room while footsteps followed soon after.

Jake sighed watching you walk away. He didn't know the full story, certainly didn't want to know the details of how in love you were, but he did know that Minjun was important enough to still bother you after some time apart. A small part of him was selfish, never wanting you to think of anyone like that but him, even though your relationship wasn't even real in the first place, but he knew that was his own jealousy.

The larger part of him felt upset for you though, the crestfallen expression you held more than enough for him to want to hold you and wash all your worries away. In a perfect world, Jake would make sure you'd never feel sad again. He vows to never be the one responsible for your tears, and if he were he'd kick himself and beg for the room in your heart to forgive him.

You stopped by the back freezer, facing the stainless steel doors and you could see Jake's reflection behind you. "I'm alright," You repeat, not having the confidence to turn around knowing your eyes were glossing over and the lump in your throat grew.

Jake hummed, watching you from afar. He watched as you began to count the frozen pastries, having to go over twice losing your train of thought and seemingly looking around aimlessly. You let out a sigh, leaning your head against the frozen rack as you shut your eyes, the cold air that wrapped around your body caused goosebumps to form along your arms, though it did well in stopping the tears that were built up to the brim.

"You know, you're technically not supposed to be back here," You mumble, a hint of amusement in your words though you were rather dejected.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head while you couldn't see it. The two of you stood in silence, not knowing what to say that would make it better. Heavy footsteps sounded as someone entered the back of the house, you peaking from behind the freezer door while Jake straightened up.

Hejin pointed a finger at you as she pulled her apron over her head. Your brows frowned, clicking on the tablet that was stuck to the door to see it only be 5:50. Her keys jangled in her pocket, the lollipop in her mouth muffling her words. "Go home,"

"What?" You let out a small laugh, amused by the loud groan she let out upon her apron getting stuck while pulling it down. "It's not 6:30,"

"I'm here now so go," Hejin huffs, pulling at her ponytail as she nods towards Jake, a silent acknowledgment to his presence but not bothering to ask why he was beside you. "I saw creeps-a-lot in the parking lot. The kid and Sooyun were blowing up my phone to get me here so I chased him away. Go home and relax, I'll make a incident report to let everyone and Mama Cho know to not talk about you and refuse him service from now on,"

Your lips pull into a frown, the tears once again welding up in your eyes. You covered your face out of embarrassment, Hejin clicking her tongue as she waved you off.

"Ay, don't cry," She tuts. "He's not worth it, new boyfriend hug her!" Hejin directs, gesturing between you and Jake causing you to let out a laugh. Jake tilted his head, his arms open as you reluctantly stepped into his embrace. You refused to look at him directly, hiding behind your hands though you could see the fondness in his expression as he stared down at you. "Good, now get out of here. Pretty girls should never cry over ugly men,"

With that, Hejin was out onto the floor. You stifled your laughter, heart pulling at the thought of your work family. She, in particular, was known to be rough around the edges, not one to show praise or direct affection but small acts like these were truly the most meaningful. You made a mental note to treat them in the future, thankful for the saving grace.

Jake pulled away from the hug slight, a small smile perking at his lips as he tilted his head. He gently pulled away your hands from your face, wiping away the few stray tears with the same fond look.

"You know, I don't know how to feel about you crying over another man," He teased causing you to roll your eyes. "Guess I have a lot of work to do to make you forgive him,"

"Forgive?" You echo, raising a brow not following his words.

Jake nods. "You know, for being an idiot but at least it allowed for me and you which is like, a million times better," He says in the most obvious voice causing you to snicker. "Forgive but not forget, or whatever it is that people say,"

"Have you been looking at pinterest quotes?" You laugh while Jake begins to nod wholeheartedly.

"You put me on, it's honestly so chill scrolling. I have like, five different boards I've made so far,"

"Rookie numbers," You tease causing him to mock offense.

"They all have certain aesthetics and are listed in order," He offers causing you to hum.

You nod in approval. "Better,"

Noting that your mood had seem to raise, Jake leans in, placing a small peck to the tip of your nose causing you to let out a small squeal. Your face scrunches up, pulling away from him while he lets out a laugh.

"C'mon, you owe me your time and I think I have the perfect idea to get your pretty little mind off everything,"

"YOU’RE JOKING?"

"What?"

You sent Jake a pointed look, smiling down at the excited animal that jumped into your arms, licking the skin of your cheek while your heart nearly bursted at the sight of her tail wagging so happily. "We've been faking it for over a month and you decided to just tell me you had a dog?"

"Her name's Layla," He laughs, crouching down to the level which you were sat on the floor. As soon as you walked into the door of the unfamiliar apartment, you were greeted by soft paws jumping at your leg along with excited barks for attention. "This is my brother's place, she's a family dog but he has her most of the time since my parents are always out of town. He's on a trip with his friends so he asked me to watch her for the week," Jake cooed as he pet Laylas fur, eyes full of affection and love as she leaned into his touch.

“I’ll watch her for the week,” You smile, gaining her attention once more as you scratched at the spot just behind Laylas’ ears. Her eyes shut as you did so, a small giggle leaving your lips as the dog visibly relaxed to your petting. “I’ll keep her company while you party or whatever you do in that frat house,”

Jake rolled his eyes, his view set on you but you were far too focused on Layla to care. “I haven’t gone to a party in weeks, and if I do you’re with me,” He says pointedly as you merely hum.

“Exactly, you can go do what you want. I’ll stay here with the cutest little puppy I’ve ever seen,” The latter half of your sentence was spoken in a high voice, cooing at Layla who seemed to be happily responsive to it.

Though he liked seeing how well you got along with his childhood pet, Jake tsked. Maybe it was a bad idea bringing you to see her, all of your attention would go to the little border collie instead of him which, admittedly, he couldn’t have.

“What I want,” Jake starts, leaning over to flood your view. “Is for you to not love my dog more than me,” He finished, dangerous close to your lips as you blinked, a small snort leaving your lips.

“Well for one, I barely tolerate you so Layla wins by a long shot,” You tease causing his lips to pout. Lightly pushing Jake away, he ends up sitting directly in front of you, Layla happily pouncing into his lap but still begging for you to provide her with scratches as she rolled over onto her back to expose her stomach. “And two, you can’t be jealous over your own dog. She’s just too cute,”

Jake sighed half heartedly. “You kicking me to the curb now for my dog?”

“Precisely,” You nod, a wide grin playing at your lips that you were unable to resist. It was still between the two of you for a moment, Jake taking the silence to gently place Layla down onto the ground beside you. You rose a brow, noting how he inched closer causing you to move back. “Hey~”

His arms were suddenly thrown around your body, one around your waist while the other was behind your head, blocking the impact of him suddenly tackling you to the hardwood floor. Your laughter filled the air, arms stuck under the weight of his chest and your faces inches apart.

“Too bad, you’re not allowed to get rid of me,” Jake huffs though there was an amused smile playing at his lips. “Say you like me more,”

You gaped in disbelief. “Are you serious?” The response to your question ended up with Jake’s fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, your shirt riding up and him knowing how ticklish you were as you began to squirm beneath him. “H-hey! Okay, s-stop—”

“Say it,” Jake taunts, his laughter mixing with yours.

“O-okay—”

Layla’s loud barks suddenly broke the air before the view of her jumping onto Jake’s head was seen. Your laughs were now from seeing how he yelped at the sudden help you received, rolling off of your body and with Layla still attacking his face with an abundance of kisses, you sat up. Now straddling Jake’s waist, you returned the favor of poking your fingers into his side, moving until you found a spot by his ribs that caused him to squirm around.

“Hey! You can’t team up against me,” Jake called out, unable to move either of you due to the way you sat and how Layla was now perched on his chest to get a better angle of sloppy kisses that he attempted to block. “She’s trying to lick my nose! Baby please—”

“What? I’m giving you attention like you wanted,”

my tags!! @slutforsjy @jaklvbub @whowantshota @addictedtohobi @coolwitu @simjyunnie @kgneptun @graythecoffeebean @143ikeu @zyvlxqht @tesywesy @nxzz-skz @aishisgrey @enczen @vanvity @dreamiestay @caitysdelusions @ikkeumyluv @v3lv3tsin

#enhypen #enhypen jake #jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #jake sim #enha x reader #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #enha #enhypen jake smut #enhypen series #jake enhypen #enha series #enhypen jaeyun #enha masterlist #enhypen masterlist

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holisticpippin · 4 months

Text

HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO DIRK GENTLY: ALL THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE REFERENCES I'VE NOTICED IN DIRK GENTLY'S HOLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY (a.k.a. everything is connected)

(spoilers)

this took a good couple of hours and I tried to do this in order; buckle up!!

SEASON 1:

the posters on the windows as todd is walking by the convenience store place has a silhouette of a falling whale, what I assume is a reference to the infinite improbability drive whale, and an ad that says "zaphod," a reference to zaphod beeblebrox (s1e01 'horizons')

(also todd's stance here is so funny to me)

the rowdy 3, consisting of four (and later five) members, could be a reference to how the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy is called a trilogy that happens to consist of 5 books ("there are four of them!" "I'm wildly aware")

one of the screens in the death maze has the number 42 on it (s1e04 'watkin')

SEASON 2:

there are 42 blackwing subjects

farah's awesome jacket with "D Adams" on it and the number 42 (multiple episodes)

the boretons' dog is named agrajag, which is the entity that arthur dent accidentally kills in every incarnation. unfortunately he dies here too (multiple episodes)

in the tree car, farah remarks that "the odometer's only on 42 miles" (s2e02 'fans of wet circles')

the book francis cardenas has by him as he's having the nightmare that says "PANIC!" on the cover (in what can only be large, unfriendly letters), with the subtitle "attack devil dolphins." (s2e07 'that is not miami')

the executioner guy in wendimoor calling dirk a "hoopy frood" as he helps him unload the scissor blade things (s2e08 'little guy, black hair')

the blackwing phone number on the business card, "555-424-2424" with a wild amount of 42s (s2e09 'trouble is bad')

dirk telling himself "don't panic" before jumping into the portal (s2e09 'trouble is bad')

#hitchhikers guide #the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #dghda #douglas adams #42 #dghda details

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xiaq · 6 months

Text

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt. 7

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6

Eddie is good at puzzles

Cryptograms, jigsaws, Rubiks cubes, mazes. For all the trouble he has in school, he’s always loved word search and crossword assignments. He finishes first; he saunters up to the teacher’s desk; he slaps it down in the assignment box. He grins as they grade it with grudging respect. The strategy required for D&D was just as appealing, initially, as the escapism.

So. Eddie is good at puzzles.

Until, of course, Steve Harrington appeared in the early-morning hallway of Hawkins high, apparently having turned over an inexplicable and very puzzling new leaf.

Steve Harrington is unsolvable.

And it makes Eddie crazy.

He’d written out a list detailing the nuances of the Steve Harrington Puzzle. That was the title on the piece of the paper he’d torn out of his campaign spiral: There was the sudden friendship with Robin Buckley and the additional strange company he’d been keeping with Nancy and Jonathan and Barb. There was quitting the basketball team and absolutely burning bridges to ash with his former friends.

The panic attacks, related to flickering lights and D&D monsters The kids. The walkie-talkie check-ins and mentions of gates.

Chief fucking Hopper’s involvement.

The weird obsession Steve seems to have with Eddie. The flirting.

The baking.

Okay, the baking could be normal, but it’s still potentially out of character enough that Eddie doesn’t scratch it off the list.

Eddie's first hypothesis is drugs, even though that doesn’t explain everything.

As long as he’s not leaving town, there’s only one person Steve could be getting drugs from if he’s not getting them from Eddie. So Eddie walks to the gas station down the road and calls Rick from the pay phone outside.

“Hey. Weird question. Are you selling hard shit to Steve Harrington on the side?”

Rick laughs at him until he hangs up. That’s fair. It was a long shot anyway.

His second hypothesis is…

Well, that’s the problem. He doesn’t have a second hypothesis. Because nothing explains all of the everything going on with Steve and even drugs only explain like…half of it.

Eddie crumples up the paper and tosses it in the trash and the Steve Harrington Puzzle remains unsolved through Saturday night as he loads up his guitar and amp into Gareth’s mom’s car.

One of them really needs to buy a van or a truck or something. Showing up to your metal gig in a minivan is not the cool aesthetic they’re trying to embody.

Eddie has been trying not to have expectations. Just because Steve said, several days before, that he was going to come to their gig didn’t mean he’d actually show up. And unlike Eddie’s embarrassing, seat-saving hope from Friday, his anxious door-watching as they set up and then take the stage at Hideout does not pay off.

Steve doesn’t show.

Maybe he forgot. Maybe he changed his mind or something better came up or maybe he never intended to come at all.

It doesn’t occur to Eddie that there’s another potential reason until he gets home, hoarse and jumpy with endorphins to find a note from Wayne by the phone.

Steve called. Said he’d been in an accident and was sorry he couldn’t come. Sounded rough. Left his number for you.

Eddie calls the number, even though it’s late. It rings. And rings. And rings. They have an answering machine, because of course they do, but the woman on the recording sounds like a stuck up bitch and Eddie lingers, just for a moment, trying to think of something to say, before hanging up.

He tries again on Sunday, just past lunch. Still no answer.

By Monday morning he’s vacillating between annoyance and concern which takes a careening turn down the concern offramp when he catches sight of Steve in the hallway. His face is beat to shit and his neck––

His neck looks like someone tried to fucking hang him.

But despite the bruises and the line of stitches at his temple and the general signs of a thorough ass-kicking, Steve is moving through the tide of students around him with the unmistakable swagger of someone who won.

It really does make Eddie want to see the other guy.

Eddie isn’t thinking. Well, he is thinking, he’s thinking what happened and are you ok. He’s not thinking about optics as he pushes his way through the other students in the hallway, grabs Steve’s wrist and drags him into the bathroom. It’s empty, thank god.

“What happened?” Eddie says, tugging down the collar of Steve’s shirt so he can better see the—Jesus, the ligature marks on his throat. “Are you ok?”

Steve’s hands catch around his shoulders, pushing him back with an infuriating little smile that says he’s enjoying Eddie’s reaction. Enjoying Eddie’s concern about him nearly being killed, the sadistic asshole.

“Hey, easy,” Steve says, “I’m fine. Though that does hurt a little so maybe let go of my shirt, yeah?”

“Oh what, you can pull me into bathrooms and feel me up but I’m not allowed to return the favor?” Eddie snarls.

Steve goes delightfully pink. “Okay,” he says. “I’ve apologized for that.”

Eddie lets go.“And you still haven’t explained it.”

“I can’t.”

“And all of this?” Eddie gestures to encompass the entirety of Steve’s stupid, muscular, injured self. He’s wearing the same jeans and boots as he was on Friday, this time paired with a black T-shirt that is likely intentionally a size too small. “Can you explain this?”

“I––”

“Can’t.” Eddie finishes with him.

At least Steve looks cowed about it.

“Are these the worst of your injuries or are there more under your clothes?”

Steve opens his mouth and Eddie interrupts before he can say anything. “Don’t lie.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “My back is a little beat up, but it’ll be fine.”

“Let me see.”

“What, do you have a medical degree, now?”

“Let me see.”

“Fine. Fine,” he turns, bracing one hand on the sink and using the other to hike up the back of his shirt. “I forgot how goddamn annoying you are when you’re––”

He cuts himself off, going still. His eyes are wide where they meet Eddie’s in the mirror. “I mean. Sorry. Whatever. Look, I’m fine.”

Eddie looks.

“Oh my god.” He’s touching the mottled bruise down the left side of Steve’s spine before he realizes he’s going to do it and by then it’s too late. He tries to be gentle, at least. “What hit you, a truck?”

“Eddie.”

“Are you pissing blood?”

“Only a little. Honestly, I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Eddie drops the shirt and lets Steve turn to face him, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he leans closer still to inspect the tidy line of stitches hugging Steve’s temple.

“At least everything looks clean,” he murmurs, pushing Steve’s hair out of the way. “Did you go to the hospital for these? Please say you didn’t do them yourself.”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer, though, because Tommy Hagan pushes his way into the bathroom. Where Eddie currently has Steve pressed against the sink, nearly hip to hip, with his hand on Steve’s face.

He’s going to die today.

“Oh, fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says with a degree of annoyance that Eddie finds commendable considering the circumstances.

“What are you––what’s going on?” Tommy says as the door slides shut behind him. “Did Munson do that to you?”

Steve scoffs and Eddie should probably be insulted. Steve slides around him, putting himself just a hair in front of Eddie as he half-turns to face Tommy. One of Steve’s hands is on Eddie’s chest and Eddie isn’t sure how it got there, but it’s steady and firm, like he’s holding Eddie back.

“No,” Steve says. “He’s just a concerned citizen. What do you want?”

“He was touching you,” Tommy says, low and quiet and weirdly hurt.

“He was,” Steve agrees easily. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. Friends touch each other all time, right? No reason to make it weird.”

The words land like a blow. Eddie watches as Tommy physically recoils from them.

“Steve.” Tommy sounds wounded.

“Tommy,” Steve answers, dispassionate.

Tommy’s eyes move to Eddie. Move to Steve’s hand on Eddie’s chest. He turns abruptly and shoves his way back out of the bathroom with a muttered curse.

Steve watches him go, and then, when he turns to face Eddie again, his mouth twists.

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I sort of implicated you, there. I swear he won’t tell anyone, though, even if he does think we’re––whatever. I can,” Steve exhales, shoving a hand through his hair, and then winces, either because of the stitches or his side. “I can tell him you turned me down.”

As if that would happen.

“No,” Eddie says. “It’s fine. I mean, a lot of people already assume that I’m––” he knows he shouldn’t ask but he can’t seem to help it, “––wait, are you?”

“Yeah?” Steve says, like it should be obvious. “I like both. Either. All.”

“Right.” Eddie says. Like his entire worldview hasn’t been shaken to the core. “And you and Hagan—?”

Steve leans back against the sink. “I’m honestly not in the practice of outing people, if I can help it.”

“Hey, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve says finally. “I know.” He’s got his hands braced on the lip of porcelain on either side of his hips. It makes his biceps look enormous. “We didn’t have a thing,” he murmurs. “Not really. I wanted to, which is embarrassing in retrospect, but––” he laughs and there’s nothing comedic to it. “Some guys are just fine with you giving them handjobs in the dark, but god forbid you ask them to kiss you in the daylight, you know?”

Eddie does know.

“Their loss,” he mutters.

Steve bites his lip. “Hey, so. I’m sorry I missed your show. Can I buy you dinner tonight as an apology?”

Eddie might not recover from the conversational whiplash. “What?”

“I can pick you up at seven?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, cool. We should get to class.”

And then he’s gone.

Eddie has a quiet, 30 second, existential crisis before following him.

***

Steve takes them to the diner again: same booth; same waitress.

She doesn’t try so hard this time to get Steve’s attention, either because she learned from last time or because Steve’s face looks like it’s been put through a meat grinder.

Regardless, they’re mostly left to their own devices and Steve gets him talking about the Lord of the Rings and once again Eddie finds himself flailing his way through a long-winded rant while drinking a chocolate milkshake. Steve watches him fondly.

He keeps forgetting that Steve is a giant, potentially dangerous, puzzle that needs solving in the face of his fond looks. It’s really becoming a problem.

Eddie is trying to find an elegant way of inviting Steve back to his place when Steve’s ever-present overstuffed backpack makes a static noise and then Eddie hears the muffled sound of Chief Hopper’s voice saying: Steve, you there?

Steve is out of the booth, throwing money on the table, in seconds.

Eddie scrambles to follow him.

Steve unzips his bag and pulls out the walkie before he’s even out the door.

“Hop?” he asks into the receiver. He doesn’t hold the door for Eddie which Eddie will be bitchy about later.

Are you still at the diner? Hopper asks. He sounds out of breath.

“Yeah.”

I’m two minutes away, meet me in the parking lot.

“It’s happening now?”

It’s happening now. Sorry, kid, I know you probably haven’t recovered from Saturday yet but––

“No, it’s fine.”

Two minutes, Hopper repeats. Be discreet.

Steve starts running.

By the time Eddie catches up to Steve at the back of the parking lot, he’s got the trunk of his car open and he’s pulling basketball uniform shirts out of a giant duffel bag. Previously hidden under the layer of jerseys are—guns.

Holy shit, that’s a lot of guns.

And grenades? Probably. Eddie has never seen a grenade in real life but he’s reasonably sure those are grenades.

“What.” Eddie says.

Steve zips the bag back up, cursing, and reaches for a baseball bat wrapped in a towel. Except when he pulls it out by the handle, the towel falls away and Eddie realizes the top of the bat has been gored through with at least two dozen nails: Spiked and lethal and covered in a red brown patina.

It could be rust.

Eddie is pretty sure it isn’t rust.

“Steve,” he says.

And Steve meets his eyes with a disturbing degree of calm.

Neither of them has a chance to say anything else, though, because Hopper's truck is careening into the parking lot and literally screeching to a stop a few feet away from them.

Steve tosses his bag of guns and his murder bat into the truck bed with a degree of familiarity that Eddie does not want to think about.

“What the hell, Steve,” Hopper is saying through the open window, “what part of be discrete did you not––oh.”

Eddie turns and when Hopper’s eyes settle on Eddie’s face, he stops talking.

“Eddie,” he says.

And that is not a way that Chief Hopper has ever said Eddie’s name before.

“Hop,” Steve says levelly.

“Fuck,” he says, still staring at Eddie like—Eddie doesn’t even know. Like he’s a ghost, maybe.

“Right,” he says. “Munson.” He drags his attention back to Steve. “We need to go. Now. Is he—“

“No.” Steve says. “Absolutely not.”

“Am I what?” Eddie asks.

Steve is shoving something into Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s hand comes up automatically to close around—keys. Steve’s keys.

“Do you know where my house is?” He asks.

“Yeah? Everyone knows where your house is, dude.”

“Don’t go home. Wayne is working tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but—“

“I need you to trust me. Please. Go to my house and––wait, no. The pool.”

He looks at Hopper.

“Henderson,” Hopper says. “The Henderson’s house. The other kids are already there. No nearby gates.”

“Gates? What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Hopper says.

“Where are you going?” Eddie demands. “What is going on?”

“Eddie,” Steve says, urgent and terrible and wild. “Please.”

There’s an undeniable supplication in his tone, in his eyes, that makes Eddie say: “Okay. Alright. Just––tell me what to do.”

Steve pulls out a sharpie and a butterfly knife from his pockets. He pushes the knife into Eddie’s hand that is already holding Steve’s keys. He takes Eddie’s other arm and turns it palm up, uncapping the sharpie with his teeth. He writes hurried instructions across his wrist.

“Ok,” he says. “There. Take my car. Go to Henderson's house. Stay with the kids until I come back, okay?”

“When will you come back?”

“Late. Early. I don’t know. Before school tomorrow.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

“Just don’t go back to your house, ok? Don’t go anywhere near Forest Hills or Lover’s Lake. We’ll get a message to Wayne too, but. Don’t go back. Go to Henderson's. Wait for me.”

“Steve,” Hopper says.

He squeezes Eddie’s arm. He lets go like it hurts him.

Steve climbs into Hopper's truck and Eddie watches them pull out of the parking lot with a dread he can’t explain sitting like stagnant water in his chest.

Eddie’s pulse is loud in his ears and heavy in his stomach as he considers the black ink on his arm; the knife; the keys. There’s a thunderhead building, eerie and green, eclipsing the sunset in the distance.

He walks to Steve’s car, closes the trunk, and opens the driver’s side door. He sits. He cranks the engine.

Dio is playing.

He looks at the instructions on his arm, directing him left onto Main Street, and for a minute he considers obeying. He doesn’t. He puts the car in gear and turns right toward Forest Hills.

He’ll go to Henderson’s. But Steve is acting like the trailer park is going to get bombed in the night and there are things at the house that…there are things he needs. He still half thinks this is all some giant prank, but Steve’s injuries are real and the guns were sure as hell real and Hopper is real. If something terrible is going to happen tonight, Eddie has to save his guitar, his mom’s records, the t-shirt from the first concert Wayne ever took him to. He’ll need to get Wayne’s favorite mug and the rosary Wayne’s mother left him and their social security cards and other important documents from the drawer in the kitchen.

It’ll take five minutes. Guitar. Milk crate of records. One bag of assorted shit. And then he’ll go to Henderson’s.

Five minutes.

In and out.

It’ll be fine.

#steddie #time travel fix it #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie x steve #myfic #stranger things fic

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majorproblems77 · 10 days

Text

Hey Linked Maze fans! It's me! :D

Another update another ramble from yours truly! :D

I love the smol updates just as much as the large ones cause it gets me thinking ngl. Makes me wonder what's gonna happen next!

(Especially in situations like this)

Okay enough from me

A link to the comic page can be found here! Please do go and check it out and give it a lil reblog to show your support! It's wonderful.

Importantly!

Linked maze belongs too @linked-maze and its creator @frulleboi. if you've not seen it note that it's for more mature audiences! :)

without further ado!

You might not need snacks for this one, but get some water, I know you need some right now. Got some? Awesome, let's begin!

We start with this panel!

First off the saturation of the image, we know that wind's outfit is like blue blue. So it's interesting to see it so discoloured. Makes me wonder if this is how wolfy sees generally or if it's just in wolf form.

(Ha you thought I was gonna go straight to the sents right, nope :D)

But now I will

So we can see 3 colours here. A reddish pink, A purple, and cream? I'm gonna call it cream.

So this confirms something

Three people have had enough contact with this object to leave an impression.

And here we can see two of them

If im understanding this correctly, Red belongs to Sky. The purple belongs to this second figure who I am going to assume is Zelda.

Also who I can assume is Wolfie seeing this red in his eyes. A cool touch!

A visual representation of whose scent he is following I can only assume., which would defo be useful later. For like when we oh I dont know

Go looking for the cream-coloured scent owner?

This is the only frame we see this cream-coloured scent. So I'm gonna call this now and assume that this scent belongs to Angel or djævel. Probably Angel since she's the one we've seen wandering around collecting the hero's items.

He sniffin

it's the windy boi

I love him, your honour

Also totally not Wolfie pretending that sword isn't his.

It's not mine what are you talking about :))))))))))

I like this shot, it's very nice.

I am a little worried as to why Warrior looks worried. Surely he must know about dog scenes. and I feel like Wolfy has proven himself by now as to not be a threat to him.

Unless...

Do you think Warrior noticed Wolfy does not smell the sword handle? And smell the random fabric instead.

A sword handle would have the most intense smell of something right? Because of the sweat. So...

Warrior is wondering and now so am I.

This is the face of a man who knows something is up with that wolf

Man is trying to be a good friendo

Warrior dont apologise you smol cinnamon roll it's fine let the kids lead

The mix of the colours here is interesting.

(Totally not me zooming in on the coloured lines to see if I can figure out what colours they are made from)

I see mainly that pinky red here.

But something in me wants to say that there's a little bit of cream in here.

You think they are gonna use the sailcloth to find Angel later? That could be cool. Maybe get Wolfy to smell a bunch of items to build a scent profile for Angel so they can go looking for her later?

Just a thought! let me know what you think! I love doing these and it's great. Thanks again to @linked-maze for the permission to do this. I love doing them.

Thats all tho so I hope you have a wonderful day/night! :D

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dovithedarklord · 2 months

Text

Stucked - Part 5

You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.

..............................................

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader

Trigger Warning: Contains blood and gore, violence, injury, some body horror, description of dead bodies and viscera, and some dubcon (lightly). Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

......................................................

Author's Note

This part is starting to get gory, so be prepared!

The world is expanding, and maybe new threats arise. Maybe someone nice and kind appears for once. Or not :D

Have fun! :D

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

.................................

The familiar sounds of the night surround you with deceptive peace as you lean up against the musty wall of the woodshed, as if you wanted to melt into the cool embrace of the shadows. And without a doubt, you would give everything for the darkness to engulf you, because if you were swallowed up by the desolate unknown, then at least you would be safe there from the threatening presence of predators stalking you. Because even though you managed to disappear from their sight temporarily, you know that it won't last forever, and you can't hide from them here all night, because you're offering yourself up to them on a silver platter. The game has ways of forcing you to take action, and it’s not so kind as to give you more than a brief glimmer of hope.

You carefully sneak out from behind your shelter, your fingers gripping the rough wood with an almost painful force, the splinters straining against your palm like a thousand tiny needles, and you're almost happy that the sharp pain penetrates the restless nervousness that settles in your mind. Your every nerve is sharpened and tries to observe the terrain in front of you, and you aren't fooled for a minute by the unmoving calmness that greets you when your gaze sweeps across the yard behind the house. You know that they have already broken through the barricaded border of your room and discovered that you have left. And it's only a matter of time before they chase after you and find you. And you can't be sure for a minute that the cursed wooden structure hasn't already poured them out of its rotting mouth, because you know how imperceptibly they move. You won't see them until they want you to, so your survival becomes a gamble. But you have to try everything to beat this damned place.

You count to ten in your head, gathering the strength of the fear tingling in your limbs, which would drive you impatiently towards escaping, but you cannot be thoughtless. The few seconds that pass before you reach zero are almost excruciatingly slow, and then, swallowing the bitter taste of uncertainty in your mouth, you push yourself away from the protective arms of your hideout to head toward the depths of the forest with nimble steps. For a long time, you wondered where you should go. You went through every single moment you spent in this hellish maze, and you realized with a cruel force that there was no safe path that would serve as a way out for you. But the dense thicket of trees is the only place where you have a chance of disappearing from their sight long enough to find clues. Because even though you can feel the blood-soaked breath of the killers on your neck, you know that this is the real key to getting rid of it all.

With the tense attention of a hunted animal, you keep an eye on the open space bathed in moonlight, in the middle of which the inviting shape of the house stands out like a festering wound. Like an apple, under the wax-soaked, flawless skin, a rotting ulcer is exposed, and even you yourself admit how apt the analogy is. Because that can be said about every damn corner of this demonic game. You hurriedly cross the few meters between you and the protective vegetation, and you can almost feel how the windows of the house, like shining yellow eyes, follow you, as if they would only observe your fruitless attempt to slip away with sickly calmness. And the screeching noises echoes in your ears almost like contemptuous laughter, brought to life by the lazily swaying of the cold breeze between the carved walls. But you merely cast one last disdainful glance at the cursed thing and let yourself be slowly consumed by the blessed, vague darkness cast by the bushes and foliage. That goddamn house can fuck itself because you're going to prove that you can win.

You have rushed through the sea of untamed plant life thousands of times since you came here, and although each time your adventures were cut short by some horrible surprise, now you aren't filled with fear of the dangers lurking within. Because, if nothing else, the memory of the torments you suffered here now guides your way, and you wildly hope that all the vile traps and terrible tricks have remained the same as before. You hope that the game has at least this much compassion in itself, and that if everything turned upside down, at least its torture devices remained in place.

Under your careful steps, the dry leaves welcome you with a soft crunch, but they only reach your ears as a dull noise through the buzzing of thoughts descending on your brain. You know that the hours you can spend in this imperceptible calm are numbered, so you have to use every moment wisely. And even though fear rages through your body with an unbridled rush, which puts dampness under the soft fabric of your t-shirt, you know that there is a clue hidden here, which forces you to delve deeper and deeper into the forest. Because there is something waiting there that could be the light at the end of the tunnel full of the smell of corpses and viscera. Just get there, take it and you're on track. From then on, you'll have something in your hands that will help you start again.

You take every step and meter with tense anticipation, and even the hooting of the owls seems like an ominous melody to your senses, sharpened by stress. Like an eerie background music that vibrates through the stout trunks as you walk, letting you know you're not alone. But even without it, you feel the invisible gaze on you, as if a pair of watching eyes were hiding in every dark corner, just waiting for the moment when you're careless enough to sink its jaws studded with razor-sharp teeth into your supple flesh. And you're not afraid of wolves, but of those wild beasts who disguise themselves by wearing a human face, hiding behind friendly smiles and sweet words. And you're sure Johnny can't wait for you to squirm under his hand and start begging for your life.

You can't tell how much time passed as you wander through the uninhabited trees, but the apparent ease with which you move makes the grip of anxiety tighten around your stomach. Your mission is going far too smoothly, and your brain can't shake the suspicion that you'll pay dearly for it. Because nothing is free here, and every uneventful and blissful moment will later avenge itself as a bloodier punishment.

But, when the long-awaited goal appears in front of you, the debilitating voice of trepidation disappears from your head, and in its place comes urgency, which automatically directs you to the bizarre structure. Even the first time, when, bursting into the forest, you came across this grotesque shrine just as you were running from one of your pursuers, the sight of it filled you with sinister foreboding, despite the killer lurking at your heels. The deteriorating frame built of twigs stands out like a broken skeleton at the base of one of the trees, and the bony fingers tightly weave the small den that rests under the ruined structure in a carrion-smelling embrace. Like a ribcage, in the torn cavity of which the underworld opens up like a gaping hole, from which, like the breath of death, an absolutely stomach-turning stench creeps out, like the sting of the sickly sweet smell of fruit rotting in the summer sun. It climbs into your nose, down your throat, and into your stomach, stirring up its pitiful contents with such violence that you try to fight off the first wild wave of nausea by swallowing the bitter saliva that moves into your mouth.

Still, you pull yourself together and only acknowledge the little dolls swinging on the weathered branches with just a quick glance, deliberately not paying attention to how the necklace of teeth strung on human hair is wrapped around the little bodies made of sticks. It's not worth pondering why this monument was put here, and what kind of satanic creature they may worship at its feet, because it's just a clever distraction from what lies in the endless blackness dug into the ground, nothing more. And you, overcoming the resistance of revulsion, which causes all the little hairs on your back to stand up, crouch down on the ground covered with slimy mud, and smoothing one of your palms into the dirty dead leaves, you lean forward to venture closer to the hollow opening between the twisted twigs. And you stifle the cursing that wishes to surge to your tongue, as your free right-hand reaches into the mysterious pit, and your fingers touch the animal remains piled up there, which slide apart like slippery worms under your searching hand. It takes what seems like a thousand years before you finally find what you're looking for, and when you feel the rough material of the worn paper, you grab onto it and tear the treasure out of the hole with such speed, like a snake ambushing its victim.

And although you shake off the filth of remains stuck to your hands, soaked in dark juices in disgust, the disbelieving joy rises in you much more strongly when you take a look at the small folded piece of paper filthy from the soil. You open it with almost hasty excitement, and you feel a heavy weight roll off your heart when you discover the map outlined on the stained page. The horrible world of the game unfolds in the drawings scribbled with fading ink, and the suffocating feeling of happiness rises in your throat with an almost ridiculous force from the crimson dots resting on the shapes resembling a child's doodle. Because you know that each red mark hides a potential clue, and despite the horrors of recent events, this is the first hopeful turn that might lead you to your escape. You've tried to get hold of this wretched map many times, but every time you've failed, and if by some miracle you managed to get your hands on it, the monsters stalking you killed you immediately before you could even put the little object in your pocket so that it wouldn't be lost. That's why you gave up on it, because wandering around in the night looking for a damn piece of paper seemed like too much of a risky venture. But right now it's the only thing that can help you.

You turn all your attention to the map, and after you identify the familiar shape of the wooden house, the dark, tangled mass of the forest stretching around it, and the line of the dirt road that winds through it, you discover something quite strange. And you swear that the last time you took a look at this sketch, then there wasn't a lake gaping like a blue puddle in the middle of the thick line of trees, and there certainly wasn't a square-shaped, gray brick building resting in the corner of the page. You run through your memories, and you become more and more certain that these are foreign elements, and that they didn't even exist in this terrible universe until now. Now, however, they stand there so cleanly, blending in so naturally among the tattered drawings, as if they had always belonged there. Maybe the changes affected the entire game? Have new locations been added? Along with it, you can get new clues, but also new threats…

You're too deep in your thoughts to hear that tiny crack that cuts through the quiet night, loud with the hum of bugs, like a sick scream. But at the second snap, you come to your senses and freeze as suddenly as a deer in a spotlight. And fear moves into every single paralyzed cell of yours at the same time, as you slowly turn around and see the tall figure emerging from the shadow cast by the leaves, whose terrifying aura you would recognize out of a thousand.

The masked killer steps out almost lazily from the cover of the bushes, and as the huge blade of the hunting knife glints in his hand, you can feel it sinking into your throat. And the screaming ringing in your skull warns you that if you don't start running immediately, you can soon feel the deadly kiss of that knife on your skin again. And it's enough to meet his eyes for a split second to know that even though the man seems motionless, this is only a passing state, because the dark eyes under the skull-like mask promise nothing but excruciating suffering.

And as the adrenaline rushing through your veins moves into your muscles with agonizing pain, you hurriedly crumple the map into your pocket, and suddenly your body bolts, almost desperately throwing yourself into the lush vegetation. And you begin your desperate rush that fills your lungs with burning dryness and your limbs with frightened energy. Under your shoes, the twigs drifting in your path give in with loud crunching, and although the branches of the bushes full of thorns bite into your skin, the stinging doesn't reach your brain blinded by panic. You should have known this was going to happen, that the simplicity with which you had gotten this far was no more than a flitting illusion, and as soon as you put a finger on something good, something far more horrible would grasp you, dragging you back into the claggy hell you fell into when you became a prisoner of the game.

Your pulse is pounding wildly in your eardrums, and with each step, you feel it's getting closer and closer to breaking through the bony wall of your chest. But you can't stop, because then you voluntarily offer yourself up for slaughter, like a rabid animal that doesn't even feel when it dances into the mouth of death because of the disease that consumes its brain. The plants passing by you only reach your consciousness as blurred spots, and even though you try to find a hiding place from your pursuer, you're afraid to stop and try to climb into any of the small corners that present themself. It would be futile anyway, because this beast would be able to drag you out of the deepest recesses of the other world to cut your stomach open.

Maybe it's your haste, maybe it's the stress clouding your senses that causes you not to notice the rotting root that emerges like a gnarled stump from under the carpet of decaying leaves, but when your foot gets stuck in it, it's too late. You fall to the ground almost helplessly, and although you instinctively try to dampen the force of the fall with your hand, the small pebbles drifting under your palm cut your skin like blades and plow bloody trenches into your forearm as you sprawl on the moist soil. Air is forced out of your chest as you collapse on the hard ground, and small dark spots begin to dance in front of your eyes as you blink in confusion, trying to understand what just happened. But even despite the vibrating dots in your field of vision, you see the small, white sign on one of the trees, which seems to have an inscription on it. Quiet lake? What the hell…

With a hiss, you try to gather yourself, when the fog of surprise clears from your brain, and you realize that you have to get going, but as your trapped foot moves and you pull it out from under the root, you clench your teeth to stifle the tortured scream that is about to break out of you. Because the hot pain radiates through every single cell of yours with such force, as if someone had dipped a knife between the tiny bones, only to twist it and cut open the web of flesh and tendons.

But before the aching has a chance to clear your mind enough for you to assess how much damage has been done to your ankle, a large hand grabs you suddenly and flips you onto your back as easily as if you were nothing more than a rag doll. And you feel infinitely small and vulnerable, as you look up in alarm at the huge figure leaning over you, under whose body swelling with strength, the fear of death nestles in every fiber of you. And almost instinctively, the black mark on your stomach starts to burn, planting a bitter reminder in your mind, which makes you understand a painful moment later that if you die again at the hands of the masked murderer, you'll be stuck here forever.

However, even if this realization takes hold in your head, as soon as your wounded leg moves, the pain radiates through you, seeping into your bones, and now you're unable to hold back the painful whimper that escapes from your lips. It seems that this grabs the man's attention as well, because he just tilts his head lazily to the side, directing his gaze to your throbbing ankle, and your blood runs cold when you feel the caress of the cold metal on the swollen skin slowly enveloped in purple petals. And although the cool touch eases the sharp pulsating pain, your eyes are still fixed in horror on the knife, the tip of which slithers almost teasingly along the small, tortured surface emerging from under your jeans. And there is something strangely, morbidly tender about the way the weapon begins its terrible path and slides along your trembling legs with a feather-light touch. As if it were just caressing its lover with its icy fingers, but you feel the threat hidden in the delicate touch, which tells you, just a bad move and that kindness will disappear. That's why you freeze and let him explore every unwilling corner of your body, shaking in terror, and even though you know you should be thinking about escaping, you can't take your eyes off the blade, glimmering in silver beneath the moon's pale hands. Because you're afraid that if you lose sight of it even for a minute, the next time you'll see it sinking into your heart.

But when the metal reaches your belly, then, wincing in agitation, you turn your gaze at the killer, and even you're shocked by the mesmerized fixation with which he regards the terrified tremor of your stomach. And as the weapon wanders for a moment to the hem of your shirt and pushes the soft cotton aside, then for a petrifying moment the pressure of the blade intensifies and bites into the tissue of the delicate skin, and you flinch in fright from the lightning-like, stabbing pain. But it worries you much more when you see the man's dark eyes zero in on something, and your brain only catches onto what he might have found when you see the amused wrinkles gathering around the painted skin. And there is something upsettingly familiar in this small gesture, as if you've seen it somewhere before…

"I like it." The man speaks up suddenly, and the deep voice coming out from under the mask is so unexpected that for a minute you can only blink at him, like a miserable fish washed up on the shore. But even to your fear-numbed brain, it's clear what he's talking about, because such rapturous glee shines in his eyes, which makes the icy arms of dread tighten around your insides with crushing force. As if some horrifying softness would move into his tone, and for a moment you're not sure if you heard him right or if it's just your imagination playing cruel tricks on you.

But it doesn't matter, because when the knife begins its journey again, and it slowly moves up to your chest rising and falling from your frightened little breaths, reaching one of the soft mounds there, then the air, that you were trying so desperately to suck in, stops midway in your trachea. And even through the fine textile and the thin material of your bra, you can sense the pressure of the cool metal, tracing the line of your breast, and you feel almost naked under the man's leer, which hungrily follows the work of his hands. And as he finds your nipple under the fabric, you can't suppress the scared whine that rises in your throat, as the small bud hardens. And this is enough for your attacker to snap his eyes on your face with the speed of a wild animal ready to jump, and as he surveys the quivering line of your lips and the ghost of tears stinging your eyes, you already know that you're not imagining that he's smiling. Because you can see how the line of the grin that spreads under the mask reaches his eyes.

"I can see why Johnny likes you." He notes, and you don't understand what he's talking about for a minute. But then you feel as if a piece of a puzzle has fallen into place, and your mind is finally able to piece together through the curtain of disorientation why the thick accented voice was so awfully familiar to your ears. And even though the material of the mask muffles it, you still hear the hoarseness under his words, and suddenly you feel infinitely stupid for not realizing it sooner. After all, Simon appeared after the masked man killed you and his black mark took shape on your stomach. How ridiculously clear that the killer who has murdered you so many times is the new stranger himself. What a despicable move from this godforsaken game…

"Why don't you kill me?" The bitter question bursts out of you, and you don't even try to stop it from coming out of your mouth. Yet you have to know what this whole cruel farce is for, because the doubts in your head are trying to find some logic in the terrible comedy that is happening to you.

But you're completely unprepared for the chuckle that resonates through the man's chest, and the confusion penetrates even your fear. Because it's too surreal how cheerfully his voice sounds, as if you weren't exactly in the dark lap of the desolate forest. And it occurs to you that maybe you too would be in such a bright mood if you were the apex predator in this miserable jungle.

But what is perhaps even more unexpected is how suddenly he kneels over you, and your frozen brain just follows helplessly as he nestles himself between your legs with his thick, muscular thighs. He forcefully makes room for himself with his strong body, and as your ankle moves involuntarily to pull away from him, agony shoots into your tortured limb, and this breaks you out of the helpless immobility of terror. Your hands instinctively shoot out towards the man, and as they strain against his broad chest in protest, you feel the hard curve of the muscles tensing under the touch. However, your opposition doesn't deter him, and you can tell from the raspy sound that escapes from his throat that he's extremely amused by the pitiful force with which you try to keep away his body slowly descending on you.

But it seems that when your resisting hand finds his face to try to push him off, fingers getting caught in the mask, his patience runs out and you go rigid in fear when the hunting knife digs into the mud next to your head. Because you hear the wet crunch of the ground as the metal sinks to the hilt into it, and your mind involuntarily feels the pain, imagining how the deadly weapon could have drilled through the border of your skull into the soft ridges of your brain. And you understand the warning, because you doubt that it was an accident that he missed the target. And as your hands fall limply to the dirt, your frightened eyes meet his, and you see the glimmering light of anger dancing in the bottomless pits of his dilated pupils.

"Enough!" He snaps at you, and his command reaches your ears as such a dangerous whisper that your body, immersed in the deadly mouth of fear, obeys him almost automatically. "Be a good girl and take it… let me warm you up for Johnny by the time he gets here."

And this one sentence serves as a signal for you to know that you won't be alone for long, and panic permeates every cell of yours, because if the other monster strays there, then all your chances of fleeing from them will be lost. But even though you know you have to do something, when you feel the man's hardness pressing against your clothed core, your brain shuts down with almost ridiculous speed, and you can't help but gape up at Simon in horrified surprise. Because you can almost make out the thick line of his cock pressing against your pussy, rutting against it with such cruel slowness that you're unable to suppress the low, alarmed yelp that escapes from your lips, a sound akin to a wounded little animal. And the movement with which one of the man's gloved hands smooths on your face is almost evil, because there is a kind of condescending tenderness in the gesture, as if he were really trying to calm down a small bird with a broken wing before crushing its spine with his razor-sharp teeth.

But there's not enough mercy in him to take pity on you, and you let him slowly set warmness into your belly without resistance. His thumb strokes your trembling lips with mocking softness, and maybe, if you were more naive, you'd think that there is something loving in this movement. But you know that he's a monster, and there is no beating heart in his chest, only an ulcerated scar, whose insatiable hunger can only be alleviated by the suffering of others. And as he breaks through the line of your teeth, your mouth is filled with the taste of dried blood embedded in the rough fabric, through which you can also feel the saltiness of his skin, like some vilely lurking disease. And as his crotch rubs against your clit hidden under the jeans with a slow rocking of his hips, his finger presses down on your tongue with a warning force, and you powerlessly let those pitiful moans emerge from your throat, which the treacherous lust awakening in your core settles on your vocal cords.

And you know he's satisfied with your surrender, because he brushes against your lips almost gently with his mouth, as if he just wanted to reward you for how the power of fear and confused desire has made you so willing for him. And as he leans on his forearms and buries his face in the graceful valley of your neck, you shiver involuntarily as his hot breath caresses the vein in which your pulse beats with desperate quickness. As his strong body weighs down on you, every firm thrust of his hips presses you into the hard ground, and you're almost dizzy from the way the bitter scent emanating from him fills your nose. And as a deep groan breaks out of him, a shiver of fear instinctively sweeps down your spine, because it sounds much more like the growl of a starved animal that is about to eat you alive.

And through the dullness that descends on your head and the miserable desire that rises in your body, you become aware that it will happen. He’ll devour you until you breathe, sink his claws into your warm flesh, and close his jaws around your still-beating heart so that you can never escape this endless nightmare. But even though you're tempted by the formless heat that slowly begins to tighten between your legs, waiting for the cruel play of his cock grinding against you to finally release you from the torment, you know you have to escape. You can't let it happen, no matter with what devilish techniques the game and the monsters it created try to divert you from it.

Therefore, your eyes, breaking through the veil of darkness, run along the sea of twigs and yellowing leaves spreading around you, and it takes a few agonizing seconds before you notice the stone that peeks out from under the pile of dry branches as a saving solution. And as your fingers begin to inch toward it with excruciating slowness, all your nerves sharpen and focus on the man moving above you, because you know that one irresponsible move is all it takes, and the knife resting next to your face will find a new home in your head next time.

But as soon as your hand finds the damp stone, you grasp it with cold determination, and perhaps hesitate for a fleeting moment before making up your mind. The speed with which your arm swings towards Simon is unbelievable even to you, and the dull, familiar thump with which your weapon meets the man's skull is deafening. He almost freezes above you in surprise, and his body falls limply on top of you, and you whine in pain as the leaden weight of his heavy body presses you down. However, you don't have time to complain about how the solid muscle pressing against you crushes your ribs against your lungs, thirsty for air, because you know that the advantage you have gained is only momentary.

Gritting your teeth, you push the man off you, and when he finally rolls off of you and lies unconscious in the dirt, you find the trunk of one of the trees and stand up despite the burning misery in your legs, desperately inhaling the air through your nose, hoping that the fresh oxygen will help relieve your suffering. And you don't dare look at your ankle, because you're afraid that if your eyes could see the damage, you'd be unable to move because of the shock. And you have to go, because time is running fast, and with each tick of the clock, the end is getting closer and closer.

You make a quick decision, without delay, and as your gaze finds that worn little sign again, the pointed end of which beckons you towards a new danger, you don't have the energy to deal with the risk that might be waiting for you there. Leaving behind even the last grain of uncertainty, you let go of the tree that has been supporting you until now, and it takes all your strength to be able to overcome the dancing, bright spots that appear before your eyes, when you finally set off limping. And although the ache in your leg twists like a knife during the first few steps, the adrenaline slowly flows through your body and climbs deeper through the tangled network of your blood vessels into your muscles, soon easing the protest of the damaged tissues into a steady, dull pulsation.

You hurriedly drag yourself forward in the dark night, only the moon guiding on your way, and with each meter you take, the landscape becomes quieter and quieter. As if the birds had fled and the crickets had disappeared, an unsettling silence moves into every desolate corner of the forest, filling the air with such an eerie emptiness that it sends a frosty numbness into your fingers. Even the phantom gaze of the eyes watching from the shadows seems to fade away, as if the bloodthirsty monsters stalking you have retreated from the ominous, milky white fog that slowly rises above the ground like a thick curtain. And you would swear that the anxious beating of your heart is the only thing that makes noise in this terrible soundlessness, like a rhythmic drum that beats between your ribs and tries to keep you on the edge of consciousness.

And as the trees thin out, the darkly rippling body of water comes into view in front of you, the inky black surface of which almost swallows the pale light that falls on it. There is something otherworldly in the way the wide border of the lake stretches out on the lap of the forest rising around it, as if the peaceful, calm water would be a passageway to the dead, and the image instinctively makes goosebumps prickle on your skin. But before your mind could weave the thread of your thoughts any further, and you could even think about why this location is here, an earsplitting roar interrupts the sudden quiet, and you jerk your head around in fright, looking for its source. And although you don't see anyone moving behind the fog, you know exactly that the beast you left behind with so much effort has returned. And this gives you enough motivation to search for shelter, looking around desperately, so that when you find a steep stretch of shore rising above the lake, you rush into the water. Although you don't know what might be hiding here, the uncertain horror is better than what awaits you when the angry monsters find you.

Defying the sting of the icy water, you wade forward through the waves and stir up dark clouds as your shoes are violently torn from the greedy pull of the mud with every step, but you're unable to focus on anything other than reaching your hiding place. The cool embrace of the lake swallows you up to your waist as you stumble to the shore smelling of wet sand, and the musty smell creeps into your nose as you crawl between the roots emerging from under the sand, almost lying flat against the damp earth. And although the coldness sneaks to your bones, relief also breaks through the shivers moving through your limbs, as the shadows rising above you welcome into their embrace. And you tensely fix your gaze towards the forest, forcing yourself to remain motionless with every nerve cell, because your attackers could arrive at any time. Your only chance is to risk hypothermia and stay here as long as possible, and then maybe you can survive the night.

And at first, you think that maybe a curious fish swam closer to you, when you feel something bump against your leg, but when you look down, you see nothing, just a distorted blob swimming lazily closer to the surface. You forget about the predators lurking in the woods, as you squint, trying to identify the unknown newcomer, and it takes an uncertain second before you recognize what is slowly drifting upwards. But as the round figure tumbles over the border of the gently sparkling water, and the lifeless eye sockets opening from the decomposing flesh stare at you, and you see the snow-white teeth lined up in the mouth frozen in a silent scream, then you feel how the horrified terror tightens your insides, trapping the air in your lungs.

But the skull doesn't stay lonely for long, because it seems to call its companions to itself with its worldless gaze, and you watch in shock as the remains of the tortured and twisted bodies emerge from under the water, stirring up the peaceful waves. Suddenly the air is filled with the stomach-churning smell of rotting flesh, but the strain of nausea that moves to your stomach doesn't reach your brain, because it's paralyzed with elemental force, as the bones meshed with decaying muscles gather around you, as if the lake had just opened its putrid mouth to pour out the flayed carcasses of his victims, leaving nothing but skeletons covered in red slime.

But it cuts through on your shock when something quite different stirs on the other side of the sea of mangled cadavers. And as a tall figure slowly appears from the cursed depths, although you recognize the terrible strength that lies in the muscles under the taut skin, you're unable to focus on anything other than the smoldering gaze flashing from behind the hood covering the creature's head. Because in those eyes glowing like molten lava, you discover an absolutely horrible curiosity as they find you trembling against the sandy wall. And when the wet fabric flutters and the wet, glistening tentacles emerge from under it, the air stuck in your chest is able to break through, and even your ears ring from the scream that rises in your throat and finally breaks the silence.

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