#(looking very fucking sternly at nintendo)
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youtube
oh, hey. so does anyone remember modding is practically illegal
#i have THOUGHTS about this topic#most of all is that i hate that this is how business is played#in short - mods might be cool but digging through game code and releasing your additions to it in public domain even if done freely#is great security concern for the owner and author of said code#i still find this atrocious and extremely unfair and plain wrong as mods are made by the Most Passionate members of the community with thei#own sweat and blood and you should only encourage this approach to your product#but i can now see the other side of the issue and like okay i see how modding could pose an issue for the company now#but dammit the solution is to take control of this initiative and not ban it and especially not lawsuit someone for this#(looking very fucking sternly at nintendo)#btw this channel is great and has a lot of eductational topic about law surrounding gaming it's extremely interesting to listen to#even if it may cause some gamerrage at how the things are in law terms#gaming#nintendo#zelda botw#the legend of zelda breath of the wild#i aged five years while i was typing that name xD#Youtube
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— love, max | steve harrington & max mayfield
summary: steve is the first to visit max in the hospital because he was her and the other kids' self-proclaimed protector. he should have been there to protect the only family he's ever known. (aka a fix-it fic inspired by this thread by @creelhousesteve)
tags: steve & max, fix it fic, canon adjacent, some unhealthy feelings, guilt, possibly anti-billy, average writing
a/n: i have too many feelings about steve & max, can you tell? we were robbed by the duffers. robbed.
“No fucking way,” Dustin whistles, as he, Lucas, Will and Mike peel back the wrapping paper of the box seated atop the tiny table, to reveal the newest Nintendo Entertainment System Console.
“No. Way,” they murmur in awed unison, just as Mike whistles.
“I didn’t know what to get you nerds, so I got this for you to share,” Steve explains, as the boys fawn over the gift, oohing and aahing and chatting animatedly as they start to unbox the video game.
“Now, I don’t want any fights. I don’t care how you share it but if I see any of you shitheads falling into trouble over a video game, I’m taking it back,” he adds sternly.
Dustin rolls his eyes, not bothering to spare Steve a glance, too engrossed in scanning the instruction manual he is holding.
“Don’t be such a Dad, Steve,” he quips and Steve scowls at him.
“Yeah, Steve! Don’t be such a dad,” Max echoes as she tries to snatch the manual from Dustin who turns away from her reach. El giggles from beside her.
“Watch it, Mayfield,” Steve chides, but there's barely any anger in his voice. Max feigns annoyance, her frown quickly disappearing as Steve removes her gift from his bag. It is a flat, elongated box that she tears the gift paper off of at lightning speed. The box falls open to reveal a skateboard— a proper one, wooden board with metal wheels and cool graffiti.
“I know you broke yours and I haven’t seen you skate in like ages but, hmph—” his monologue gets cut off by Max tackling him in a bear hug. He isn’t as much repulsed as he is surprised; Max Mayfield has never been the affectionate one in the brood.
“Thanks, Steve,” she mumbles into his side and just as quickly lets go with a clearing of her throat. Steve watches, bemused, as she turns the board over in her hands, gives the wheels a spin and turns back to look at him, lips pulled apart in a dazzling smile.
Her eyes are shining.
Steve has always hated hospitals. The overpowering scent of antiseptic, wet mops and sickness fills his nostrils.
He hates it.
He hates how blindingly white the room he is standing in is; how devoid of all color it is, except for the stark burst of flaming red at the very center of the room.
He hates the sight before him.
Max Mayfield lies on the hospital bed, as if sleeping— a sight that would have normally comforted him. Only, she isn't asleep.
Her hands and legs are swaddled in thick rolls of plaster and her neck is encased in a tight brace. Dark bags have formed under her eyes, which look harsher in the white fluorescent lights of the room. Two pipes trail into her nose— the only sign that she's getting any oxygen because he can hardly make out the rise and fall of her chest. What stands out most is the scarring. Lines that resemble dark tears emerge from her eyes, flowing right down to her cheekbones. A noticeable marring of her porcelain skin, a reminder of the horrors she has endured.
She looks small, incredibly small, drowning in the blue hospital gown and cocoons of plaster. The sight guts Steve every time his brain registers it.
The doctors say that even if Max wakes up, she may never be able to see again.
He has to clench his jaw and look to the pristine white floor to keep from tearing up.
Lucas had described to him, as they had driven to the hospital, what had happened. How she had been when Vecna had got her, how her heart had stopped. When Steve himself heard the fourth chime in the Upside-Down, the ground had slipped from underneath his feet.
He couldn’t bring himself to imagine what Lucas must’ve felt, bearing witness to such a horrific event.
He casts a glance at the boy standing beside him. His left eye is swollen, a cut across his lip that bleeds occasionally. He can see that he's shaking slightly, eyes fixated on Max. Involuntarily, he reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Lucas," he says, and the boy turns his face towards Steve.
"She's going to wake up. She will," he assures, and hopes to hell that his words don’t sound as empty as he feels.
"You don't know that," Lucas croaks, eyes swimming with tears.
"Hey, hey," he murmurs, pulling Lucas a little closer.
"You have to believe she's going to be okay. For her. For you. For all of us. If anyone’s a fighter, it’s Max. You know that."
Lucas lets out a muffled sob.
Steve's gut wrenches.
He wants to believe that anytime now, Max is going to wake up and call him something stupid. He can almost picture the smile that compliments her cherry red hair as she sneers, "You look like you haven't slept in days, Steve. Whatever will the girls say?"
"Hey, can I sit?" Steve asks hesitantly.
Max is sitting at the desk, doodling something onto a sheet of paper, the faint beats of Kate Bush's “Running Up The Hill” emanating from her walkman.
She scrunches her forehead, pausing the song on the player and he asks the question again. She nods a yes.
"Er, how are you?"
Max gives Steve one of her trademark depan looks. Well, he deserved that.
"As fine as someone who's probably dying can be." She delivers the sentence with the devastation of a sucker punch but Steve hears the accompanying tremor in her voice. His chest caves.
"You're not dying," he avows, with just as much finality as she has in her set jaw.
A beat of silence passes.
"Did you read my letter?"
"I'm not reading your letter, Mayfield," he says firmly. Max doesn't look at him. "Because you’re going to be okay."
It is the truth. He isn’t reading the letter. There is no need for it. Max is going to be just okay.
A frown upturns her mouth but she doesn’t contend further, only looks away.
“I’m scared, Steve,” she murmurs moments later, voice cracking. Suddenly, she looks tiny, like the twelve year old Max Mayfield he had met for the very first time. Then, there had been a bright spark in her eyes. Now, it seems to have dimmed by flecks of fear that seem out of place.
The only time Steve had seen her look this terrified was at Billy Hargrove’s house, a lifetime ago. A pang resonates in his chest as Max wrings her hands together.
He leans in closer, noticing the slight quiver of Max’s mouth, like she’s about to cry.
“Hey, hey,” he begins, softly. Max looks at him, lips pursed. She looks defiant but slightly on the edge, scattered. A stark juxtaposition that makes him reach out for her hand. She lets him take it.
“You’re going to be okay, Max. Nothing— nothing is going to happen to you," he says, giving her hand a squeeze. They’re alarmingly cold, and Steve fights the urge to pull her into a hug.
"I’ll make sure of it.”
Steve feels like a fraud.
Standing here, watching the kid he had promised to keep safe, fight for her life, feels like a failure he can’t ever come back from.
He had sworn, all those years ago, to protect these kids; taken it upon himself to look after them not only because they were his friends but because they were so awfully young and alone, facing dangers that were stuff of nightmares and should’ve remained as such. He had promised to himself, that night in the Upside-Down when they were distracting the army of demodogs, that he would never leave these kids to fend for themselves like his own parents had.
Promised to himself that he would always show up, always listen and always defend.
And he had failed.
"I'm going to— I have something to do. I’ll... I’ll be back," Lucas mumbles, slicing the thick air with his words and rushes out of the room before Steve can stop him.
He decides not to follow.
A suffocating silence befalls the room, save for the steady beep of the machine beside Max. Steve slowly edges closer to the bed. Up close, the bags under her eyes look darker and she seems fragile— brittle, almost.
Steve's hands are trembling as he grasps at the foot of the bed. From his back pocket, he extracts a piece of paper. It's creased from the folds, bits tearing off the corner because he has fiddled with it one too many times.
He didn’t want to open it. Had resolved against it, even when his worst fears had been confirmed about Max that fateful night. But standing before her, he thinks he owes her this much at least.
Unfurling the paper, Steve starts to read the scratchy writing on it and maybe it’s his own head but the room becomes a little darker around him.
“Dear Steve,” he begins, trying to clear his throat but his voice comes out hoarse. He doesn't know why he is reading it out loud, doesn't care. “I know I annoyed the hell out of you, but I had good reason— you can be insufferable.”
For a brief moment, he imagines Max giggling at the words as he knows she would, the image making his heart warm.
“As are we to be honest. Guess that excuses your exasperation with us somewhat,” he continues and the tiniest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Anyway, jokes aside,” he reads, “I wanted to thank you. I never really thanked you for saving me from Billy that night.”
Steve contemplates not reading further, his heart already beginning to sink, mind being yanked to memories he hadn't thought about in a while. He takes a deep breath and then continues.
"I was so terrified. I really think... he would've killed me that night if you hadn't stepped in. I think, that's when I realised how fucked up our situation is and how lucky we are to have you watching our backs."
The words choke in his throat. He really can't bring himself to look at Max.
"You're a good person, Steve. Thank you for always looking out for us. We don’t say it cause we’re idiots but we all know we wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for you,” his breath shakes, “And, at the risk of sounding lame...”
His throat burns and vision blurs as his eyes catch up to the rest of the words. He blinks back the tears, sniffing and clearing his throat, albeit in vain.
“… thank you for being the brother I always wished I had. Love, Max.”
Steve prays for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Max's words echo inside his mind like a resounding knell.
“I'm sorry," he whispers, the apology bubbling up his throat. He wants to say so much but words die on his tongue. His hands are shaking now and he can feel the surge of something heavy in his chest.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I should've been there to protect you."
It's stupid. Max can't hear him.
Or maybe she can, he doesn't know anymore. Maybe there's power in prayer and some truth in all that bull his mother used to tell him when he was a child.
"I'm sorry," he whispers again, incapable of any other words. There's a pressure on his chest, crippling and heavy and he's afraid to exhale too fast.
Just then, there is a clamor of voices and the door opens, causing him to hurriedly shove the paper deep inside his back pocket. In come the kids, pouring in through the door, faces looking grief-stricken and ashy.
Lucas has a book in his hands, followed by Dustin— the usual cheery smile on his face replaced by something alien— and Erica. Lucas moves to the wall beside Max's bed and sticks something on it— a paper with childlike drawing— and moves to reach for her hand.
He gives it a squeeze, Steve's heart feeling heavier as he watches the three of them mill about in the room— not knowing what to do with their hands, their bodies, their beings.
He knows that none of them will ever be the same after this. Robbed of their innocence, their joy at an age when his biggest problem had been some girl in his class.
And as Dustin comes to stand beside him, a vacant look in his eyes that makes him almost unrecognisable, Steve knows that he can never fail again.
Because, even if he apologized for the rest of his life and a seven million after, he doesn't think he'd come close to deserving forgiveness.
Thank you for being the brother I always wished I had.
He would do anything to protect them.
Even if it costs him his own life.
Especially then.
#steve harrington#steve harrington and max mayfield#max mayfield#steve & max#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x fem!reader#adding for visibility only bc ik y'all are not searching for fix it fics#mywriting
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part 2 to this
I'M BACK BITCHES!!!! my dog died and I went into a depressive episode for like all of July. Also, this isn’t very long just a quick tie-up.
pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!reader (but never explicating uses pronouns)
genre: hurt/comfort, fluff
word count: 532
masterlist
warnings: mentions of past fight, probably ooc billy but who cares?
tap
tap
tap
As soon as you register the taps, you run to your window. You’re met with bright blue teary eyes. You immediately open the window and pull him in.
“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask as you pull back.
“I missed you”
“It’s been 45 minutes Billy”
“You’re really gonna blame me for missing my girl” he asks as he plops down on your bed. You do the same.
“C’mon we both know that’s not the reason”
Billy just looks at you. With the most sincere adoration in his eyes.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
Your face flushed red. Billy let’s out a chuckle.
“Billy stop avoiding the real reason you’re here.” You barley manage to say.
“Honestly, it’s non of your fucking business” Billy says sternly.
A moment of silence erupts. Neither you or Billy know how to respond. You take a deep breath.
“Ok then you don’t have to tell me. I trust that whatever it is you have your reasons”
Billy murmurs a quiet ‘thanks’ and pulls you close to cuddle. You don’t know how but your fingers end up in his hair. It’s quite comforting to see Billy in such a vulnerable state. You know he’s not ready to talk about it but it brings ease to your mind to know that he at least came to you for comfort.
“One day I’m gonna get us out of here. Far far away from my dad” Billy murmures into your chest.
You just hum in agreement.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I mean I know you got a home here” Billy says.
You pull him up to meet him eye to eye.
“Anywhere is a home when I’m with you.” You state as your lips gently meet.
Billy pulls back and he looks almost scared.
“I think I maybe sorta love you” He states, waiting patiently for your response.
You let out a small laugh.
“Well then, Billy Hargrove, I kinda sorta love you back”
Billy pulls you in for another kiss, but this time it’s more passionate. You have to pull away once you run out of breath.
“That was hot” Billy interrupts your thoughts.
“Ehhh, I think we need to do it one more time just for good measure”
Then it’s your turn to pull Billy in for a passionate kiss. Your lips meet in a euphoric way. Billy gently bites your lip to slip in his tongue. Just like that your making out with Billy Hargrove. You pull back and he lets out a quick whine.
“Now are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“Ugh fine” he whines like an immature child.
You watch him, waiting for him to talk.
“I got home my dad was being a dick, as per usual, me and him got into and he got mad and told me to leave. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry.” As Billy talks tears begin to form.
You wipe them away.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re always welcome” You then pepper his face with kisses.
“I love you”
“I love you too, now let’s play on my Nintendo”
...
tags (sorry it took so long):
@7minutes-tomidnight
@fredweasleyscorpsebride
@bucket-hat-bestie
@frogtits1
#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove one shot#billy hargrove x female reader#hurt/comfort#fluff#stranger things#stranger things imagine#billy hargrove imagine#xreader#reader insert
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Let Them Hear- Liu Yangyang
Genre: Hard dom!yangyang x reader, smut
Word count: 976
Summary: Yangyang never thought he would get jealous of his baby talking to his best friends, yet here he is, making sure you prove to them that you’re all his.
Warnings: smut, jealousy, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), degradation, choking, dirty talk, spanking, dominance
A/N: Feel free to send me requests, asks and leave me feed back!
Main masterlist
Yangyang honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility of him getting jealous when he asked you over to his dorm to hang out with him and the ‘00 liners. That was until he is sat here, clenching his fists, burning holes into Shotaro’s back as he plays Mario Kart with you. Yeah, Yangyang knows it’s probably nothing. He trusts you and Shotaro at that, but he can’t help the jealousy he feels when he see’s you talking to other guys.
“Taro you’re cheating!” you squeal, shoving him playfully as both of you sit with your eyes glued to the screen.
“It’s Mario Kart i can’t cheat, you’re just shit” he teases, focusing as much as he can on the Nintendo Switch.
“Hah” you shout, standing in front of Shotaro, blocking his view of the television.
“Now look who’s cheating” he shouts, trying to push you out of his way.
Shotaro simply placing his hand on your side was enough to break Yangyang, even if it was to shove you out of his way.
Yangyang excuses himself from his conversation with Jaemin and Donghyuck before approaching you and Shotaro at the TV.
“Y/N, let’s talk” he states sternly.
“Baby” you respond, not picking up on Yangyang’s anger, “it’s nearly over just wai-”
“Pause it” he responds, cutting you off. That’s when you realise something is wrong. You pause the game, sending an empathetic look in Shotaro’s direction, who smiles back softly in response.
Yangyang grabs your hand harshly. “My room” he mutters.
You walk with him to his room, wanting to ask what’s wrong but also not wanting to anger him more than he already is.
Yangyang get’s straight to the point as soon as you enter the room, locking the door. “Across my lap, now. Count” he states coldly as he sits down on the edge of the bed.
You look at him hesitantly before complying, bending over on his lap. Yangyang lifts up your skirt, running a hand across your ass before slapping it harshly, resulting in a scream being released from your lips.
“One”
“What made you think you could act like a little slut in front of my face, huh?” he questions, slapping the tender area again.
“Two. Babe i don’t know what you’re talking about” you reply, genuinely baffled as to what you did to annoy your boyfriend.
“Fucking bullshit” he spits, slapping you hard again.
“Three”
“You know exactly what i’m talking about, don’t act like a dumb little slut. Flirting with Shotaro right in front of my face? Do i not deserve better than that?”
“Four. I wasn’t f-flirting with him. Fuck five. Baby you know i only care about you, no one else. Fucking hell six”
“Pity you decided to act like a fucking whore then” he complains.
“Seven. Babe please stop, i wasn’t flirting with Shota- fuck eight” you scream, your tender ass feels like fire from the red hand marks littered all over it.
“Just shut up, you’re boring me now slut”
“N-nine”
“Prove it to me that you’re sorry” he states, sending one last hard slap to your ass.
“Ten” you groan, as Yangyang drags you up by your hair.
“Lay down” he demands, staring you dead in the eye as you comply.
Yangyang pulls your panties down, not even bothering to take off your skirt or shirt, just simply pushing it up, allowing him to have access to your dripping core.
“Look at you, dripping for me already. Or is it for Shotaro?”
“You” you reply, eyes wide, “only you”.
“Good” Yangyang responds, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers, stroking himself lazily. “Open” he says, staring at your legs.
You look at him nervously, “Babe you didn’t prepare me at all”.
Yangyang leans down whispering in your ear, “Dirty sluts like you don’t need to be prepared. You can take my dick”.
He leans back, once again stroking his dick as you open your legs. He lines himself up with your soaking core before pounding into you with no warning.
“Fuck babe” you scream, putting your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your lewd noises.
Yangyang grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Let them hear you. Let Shotaro know who you belong to” Yangyang groans, snapping in and out of you at a ruthless pace, loud moans effortlessly escaping your lips.
“Such a dirty slut” Yangyang groans, throwing his head back.
“Holy fuck babe” you scream, as he hits your g spot repetitively.
“Mmh my good little slut” he groans, releasing your wrists from his grasp and wrapping a hand around your throat. “You’re gonna take all my cum so good yeah?Let me fill you up like no one else can” he breathily says, tightening his grip on your neck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fill me up please let me take all your cum” you choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head, causing Yangyang to twitch inside of you. He’s close.
Yangyang brings his hand to your throbbing clit, rubbing it as fast as he can, causing your whole body to shake.
“F-fuck baby” you moan loudly, your fingers scraping up and down your boyfriends back, “please leave me cum babe, need to cum”.
“Cum for me” he moans, as you both come undone together, the room being filled with heavy breaths and euphoric moans. Yangyang slows down his pace significantly, allowing you both come down from your highs.
“Good girl” he whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you both up.
Once you are both decent again, you make your way hand in hand back to the living room, being greeted by a very shell shocked ‘00 line. There was no doubt, you let them hear.
#nct#wayv#nct u#nct dream#nct 127#yangyang#liu yangyang#nct yangyang#wayv yangyang#nct smut#wayv smut#yangyang smut#yangyang drabbles#yangyang scenarios#yangyang timestamps#yangyang imagines#nct drabbles#nct scenarios#nct timestamps#nct imagines#wayv scenarios#wayv drabbles#wayv timestamps#wayv imagines
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corona borealis
summary: you and sungjin have been planning this road trip basically since you met each other, but it gets a little hard to concentrate on the grand canyon when you’ve got someone like sungjin standing next to you.
pairing: sungjin x reader
genre: friends to lovers, fluff
notes: secret santa gift for @svngjins !! merry belated christmas and happy holidays!! i hope you enjoy it!
sunday
sungjin’s got the windows down and your playlist blasting when he pulls up to your house. you kiss your mom on the cheek, throw your bags in the back of sungjin’s truck, and hop into the passenger seat to grin at him.
“ready?” he calls over the music. you give him a thumbs-up in the middle of pulling your shoes off, and he backs out of your driveway with a matching grin. as you leave the neighborhood you remember the story you’d been saving to tell him, and his laugh matches the sunshine gleaming off the hood of the truck.
the first hour and a half you drive sunday is filled with stories and a debate about who could actually beat who on rainbow road; sungjin appeases you by saying you’ll have to play a few rounds on jae’s console when you get to school, and you let it go. once you get onto i-40 it’s a straight shot to the grand canyon, so you settle back curled up with your arm resting on the open window, the wind whipping your hair into your eyes as it trails through your fingers.
the conversation dies off naturally after about the three-hour mark, but you and sungjin have been planning this road trip for years, so you prepared for it and pull out your nintendo to pick up where you left off in sun and moon. sungjin laughs at you when you yell encouragement at your pokemon during the battles, but he’s smiling softly as you look up to pout and tell him to stop, and maybe your heart skips a beat.
or maybe it doesn’t, you tell yourself sternly, and you grit your teeth as you focus on the trainer battle. you have no business falling in love with your best friend, so you shove the feeling away and sing softly to the music still blaring from the speakers and refuse to look at sungjin for a bit.
somewhere in arizona you find a rest stop and switch places, and while you’re waiting for him to get out of the bathroom you fiddle with the rearview mirror and sigh. it’s going to be a long week if you let yourself consider your feelings too much, and you’ve been wanting to make this trip almost since you met freshman year, so you start the car as sungjin jogs back over to you.
when you get back on the highway you focus on the black ribbon road and try to count cacti to avoid glancing over at sungjin where he sits in the passenger seat humming and continuing your game for you. it’s something you always do, share the games: when you’d found out over christmas freshman year that he was starting to go back through all the games you’d agreed to play them together, each taking the ds for a week and making whatever progress you could between classes and assignments.
younghyun says it’s a good metaphor for your friendship, all easy give and take and light-hearted competition. you’re inclined to agree, but you wish feelings were as easy to beat as boss battles, because maybe then you wouldn’t be so conflicted when you realize the cheap motel room only has one bed, and maybe you could sleep better curled up with sungjin’s arm thrown over your stomach.
for now, though, you sigh and examine his peaceful features and try to ignore the stupid desire to brush his dark hair out of his eyes and kiss him until it’s time to leave in the morning.
monday
the thing about the grand canyon that you hadn't really considered is that you’re not the biggest fan of heights. other visitors are similarly hesitant to walk out onto the glass bridge over the canyon, but sungjin laughs.
“you’re the one who wanted to do this,” he says, a few feet away from you with nothing but glass under his feet. “it’s perfectly safe, you know that.”
you wrinkle your nose. “i know, it’s just—intrusive thoughts and all that.”
he nods, all too familiar with your active imagination and its role in the things you hesitate about. “come on,” he says, and then he’s at your side, lacing your fingers together, and tugging you toward the bridge.
you pause, just for a second; it’s not like this casual physical contact is odd, for the two of you, not when your habit of holding hands walking between classes and sharing the big chairs in the library has given you the reputation of a couple that’s been together for three years. you just hadn't quite expected the touch, but you let him pull you out onto the glass and try to get over your initial flare of panic.
“so what kind of stuff would make this hard to build?” he asks, running a hand over the handrail, and you relax. he’s trying to take your mind off the height, and of course he knows exactly how to do it.
“loads! i mean, all bridges have to deal with loads but in this case there’s a significant amount more wind load than most places. and with the way it loops back on itself dealing with the dead load gets more complicated, since it’s not quite as easy as when you can support it from both sides.” you glance around, examining the structure, and the combination of analyzing the engineering and the comfort of his calloused fingers grounds you until the last of your anxiety slips away.
you stay in the park for lunch, take countless pictures to put on instagram later, and early afternoon you’re on the road again, sungjin’s pleased smile as warm as the arizona sun. it’s too hot for anything other than tank-tops, and you do everything possible not to get distracted by the definition of his arms as he drives with one hand, the other resting on the open window. he’s gotten tanned, over the summer, the florida beach sun kissing his skin the way you’re trying to tell yourself you don’t want to, and it’s beautiful.
dinner’s at a tiny diner you find somewhere across the border into new mexico, spent debating the team to use for the final boss battle in sun and moon, the one sungjin will play when you finish eating. it’s your turn to drive for the rest of the evening, and when sungjin finally wins and you nearly swerve off the road as you cheer you both laugh, the warmth in your chest nothing to do with the heat of the climate.
just over the texas border you stop for the night, pull onto the shoulder of the highway and set up sleeping bags in the bed of the truck.
out here, so far from any cities, the sky stretches forever. there are more stars than you think you’ve ever seen, with so little light pollution to block them out. sungjin points out the constellations he remembers from introduction to astronomy until you’re yawning more than paying attention to him, his low voice lulling you to sleep.
you roll onto your side to see him already facing you, and your breath catches in your throat: his eyes reflect the sky, or maybe they just hold universes in them. either way you’re struck by how beautiful he is, with his star-filled eyes and his smile softer than silk when he notices you staring.
fuck it, you think. if you’re going to fall in love with a friend, it might as well be the one who’s been by your side the longest, the one who knows you inside and out, the one who knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. if it has to be anyone, there’s nobody better than him.
tuesday
the thing about park sungjin is that he’s exactly the sort of boy you’re bound to fall in love with.
wonpil likes to tease you about the way you list the exact same traits when asked to describe your ideal significant other that you do when someone asks you what sungjin’s like, and that probably should have tipped you off about this happening sooner, but here you are flicking glances at him as he navigates the austin streets, your breath still stuck in your chest from last night. the realization is driving you crazy; you’ve texted wonpil you need to talk with him at some point today, and the second sungjin parks the truck in dowoon’s driveway you tumble out of the car and try to breathe, desperate to find air that isn’t filled with sungjin’s sunshine and familiar coffee order.
you look up to see sungjin watching you with concern in his eyes, but you wave him off and burst through the unlocked door to give dowoon an overly enthusiastic birthday hug and return jae’s dab. younghyun drags you into the kitchen to dig into the tacos they’d gotten when you texted that you’d run into traffic near the city limits and would be late, and in the bustle of six college kids and food you breathe a little easier. sungjin’s too distracted by jae talking his ear off about a new song he wrote over the summer to fill your space like he does when it’s just the two of you and the truck and the open highway, and somewhere between throwing presents at dowoon and yelling at him to open them and settling in for a ghibli marathon wonpil tugs you into dowoon’s bedroom and sits you on the bed.
“you wanted to talk?”
“i think i’m in love with sungjin.”
“you think?” wonpil raises an eyebrow. “sis, we know. took you long enough to realize.”
“no, like—” you sigh, run a hand through your hair, or try. you brushed it in the morning, but the wind has tangled it hopelessly again, and the knots stop your fingers before they get very far. “like, i’ve always loved sungjin, but now i’m in love with him.”
wonpil looks like he wants to reply sarcastically, but he looks at you again and something in your face makes him think otherwise, because he softens. “what do you want to do about it?”
“i don’t—i don’t wanna ruin our friendship or anything, so maybe nothing?”
“fer,” he sighs, “that’s maybe the worst idea i’ve ever heard, and i was there when jae suggested younghyun should just steal knives from the dining hall and tape them to his shoes and try to skate on the pond in october.”
you frown. “why the worst idea?”
“well, i have it on good authority that he likes you as well, and also unrequited love and the resulting sadness and jealousy and struggles with physical intimacy like you have is the quickest way to ruin a friendship, so regardless of his feelings you should probably just tell him.”
“yeah but like. how do i tell him?” you grab at wonpil’s hands, clutch his slender fingers like you’re back on the glass bridge above the grand canyon and they’re the handrail. you may as well be back there, since the idea of telling sungjin you’re falling in love with him makes your stomach drop just as much as imagining slipping over the edge of the bridge and tumbling into the canyon.
when the two of you emerge from the bedroom sungjin lifts the blanket for you to curl up at his side and wraps an arm around you, and even though he’s clearly curious he doesn’t ask, just offers you the bowl of popcorn. you smile hesitantly, take a handful, and resign yourself to figuring out how to tell your best friend the one thing you find most likely to mess up the easy dynamic you’ve established.
wednesday
wednesday is just a driving day. yesterday, as you got close to dowoon’s house, you got tired of the noise and the wind and rolled the windows up, but today the air in the car is too thick for you to think about anything but keeping the windows down, your knees tucked up to your chest as you press your back to the car door and let your head tip back into the wind.
several times sungjin looks over like he wants to say something, but you close your eyes and let the breeze tangle your hair and pretend to nap, and then when it’s your turn to drive after lunch you concentrate on the road.
you stop for gas in a tiny town in arkansas and sungjin grabs snacks from the convenience store, and five minutes later you’re back on the road pretending not to be affected while sungjin feeds you chips the way you’ve done for years when one of you has your hands full.
tennessee has more trees than texas, and you park in their shade when you stop for the night. it’s impossible to ignore sungjin when he’s lying right next to you in the bed of the truck, one arm sprawled into your space so that his calloused fingers brush your elbow as you curl your arms into your chest, and as you slip into sleep you give up, so that your dreams are full of his rough voice and sunshine smile and eyes brimming with stars.
thursday
you’re starting to think you drastically overestimated your willingness to sit in a car for ten hours at a time by the time you make it into ohio thursday afternoon. you’re antsy, twisting in your seat every few minutes, and you’ve abandoned your books and the ds to the backseat after you realized you weren’t going to be able to focus on them for longer than thirty seconds.
finally you reach over and crank up the music and start singing, let yourself breathe only because you need to in order to sing.
the playlist reaches a queen song and sungjin joins in, harmonizing the gravel in his voice to the playfulness of freddie mercury’s. you falter and fall silent, letting his singing fill the car; you’ve always adored it, and the familiarity of his chocolate tone stops your shifting in your seat so you can take it in.
for a little he sings seriously, but by the second chorus he starts exaggerating his falsetto and making weird faces, and you pull your phone up and take a video, a laugh tugging at your lips for what feels like the first time in days. the ridiculousness continues for another two and a half songs, until he gets too into the performance and swerves a little in the lane.
the sudden motion surprises the two of you into silence and you blink at him, wide-eyed, as he grips the wheel and makes a face and readjusts, and there’s a beat and then you crack up, the tension of the day bleeding away.
you pull onto junhyeok’s campus early evening, follow the texted directions to his dorm, and yank him into a hug when he meets you outside. he’d transferred after freshman year, and you’d all tried to keep in contact but it was hard, when there was always so much going on and he’d started making new friends. seeing him again isn’t necessarily awkward, but it isn’t quite as comfortable as it had been when you were a group of seven sprawled on the grass of the quad outside your dorm.
he takes you to dinner at a little pizza place just off campus and he and sungjin talk music for a bit before he sits back and turns an observant eye on the way you’re trying not to stare at sungjin’s wind-blown, beautiful dishevelment.
when sungjin’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom and you’re setting up sleeping bags on junhyeok’s floor junhyeok grins at you. “finally realized your feelings for him?”
you stutter over a response before sighing. “wonpil said i need to tell him, but i have no idea how.”
“just don’t make a fuss about it,” junhyeok says. “let it happen. the two of you are as easy as breathing, and i doubt this will change anything.”
before you can reply sungjin walks back in, and you turn to straighten your pillow, mulling over junhyeok’s advice.
friday
you get up early to drive to cleveland, and sungjin trips his way out of the truck when you get to the rock and roll hall of fame. he lights up, inside, grabs your hand and tugs you around the exhibits. with how much he knows you think he may as well be a worker at the museum, and one of the actual workers seems to share that idea, grinning when sungjin tells you about how stevie nicks believes she was guillotined in a past life.
the displays are fascinating, but you’re more captivated by the glimmer in sungjin’s eyes and the excitement in his voice, and you spend considerably more time memorizing his face than you do looking at the displays.
after lunch you go to the zoo, and it’s your turn to get excited as you point out animals from brazil, taking countless pictures of the sloths and tree frogs that aren’t common near where you live but are nevertheless a link to home. sungjin follows you as you hurry from enclosure to enclosure, taking pictures for reference later and already planning several drawings.
you make sungjin pose by the bears, laughing, because your group has a running joke about him and your teddiursa is named after him for a reason, and early evening you link hands as you walk back out of the zoo. you haven’t forgotten the awkwardness in holding his hand with your newfound feelings, but you’re determined not to let your hesitation ruin such an incredible day. the warmth of his hands is somewhat uncomfortable in the cleveland humidity but it’s familiar and grounding, and there’s something soft in both of your smiles as you head back to junhyeok’s dorm for the night.
saturday
there’s something bittersweet in getting up on saturday.
it’s the last day of the trip, the end of this weird in-between of you and sungjin existing together with nothing else but the truck and the highway, and no matter how tense you’ve been it’s still been nice to spend time with just him as best friends, without the rest of the group butting in and being constantly chaotic. and the road trip was something you’d wanted to do before graduating, so checking it off the list feels like one step closer to packing up your dorm for the last time and having to figure out where to go from there without the security of time to figure it out, so there’s something a little terrifying in the thought of arriving on campus in the evening.
regardless you say goodbye to junhyeok around noon and hit the road again, coffee steaming in the cupholders as you curl up with a book. today is quieter, the two of you tired from the adventures yesterday, but silence between you has never been a bad thing. it’s just as comfortable as talking nonstop, and you relax after an hour or two, sungjin singing just louder than the familiar rumble of the truck under your feet.
you’re the one driving when you pull up to the drive-through window for dinner, your surroundings finally things you recognize. you’ll get to campus in maybe fifteen minutes, but you’re not quite ready to finish your trip, so you park in the restaurant lot and suggest eating in the bed of the truck. sungjin climbs one step further to sit on the roof, pulling you up with him so that you’re sitting with your heels knocking against the back window.
the stars aren’t quite as visible here as they were in texas, but you can still see ursa major when sungjin points it out.
while he’s busy staring up at the sky, taking a bite of his french fries, you take the time to look at him instead, committing to memory the shape of his jawline and the way his eyes gleam dark under the streetlights.
“beautiful,” he says.
“sure is,” you agree, and he turns to you before you’re able to look away.
he pauses for a moment and then smiles softly and sets his food aside. you don’t quite have time to blink and question him before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, and kissing you. there’s a moment of shock as his chapped lips fit themselves over yours before you realize what’s going on and then it’s instinctual to reach up to cup his cheek and return the kiss. for a few breaths there’s only your heart beating against your ribs and the flutter of his lashes against your cheek and the warmth of his hand through your shirt, and you think this must be what heaven is.
he draws back far more quickly than you’d like, laughs when he sees the disappointment in your eyes.
“i just—” you sigh. “i can’t believe you beat me to that.”
he smiles, gentle. “is that what you’ve been worrying about all week?” when you nod he takes your hand, laces your fingers with his with more care than you’ve ever felt. “you can relax now, then,” he says.
he leans back in to kiss you again and you think this must be like kissing starlight, because he’s nothing if not a celestial being. in two days you’ll have freshmen to look after and he’ll be preparing the hall per his job as an ra, but for now it’s just you and the star you get to cradle in your hands and pull ever closer, and that’s enough for now.
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more than survive - chapter 12
“Jeremy, c’mon. Open your eyes.”
The desperation in that voice was the first thing that Jeremy became aware of. Everything still felt fuzzy and heavy and horrible, but he could hear someone calling his name. Michael. Michael was calling his name.
He felt like most of the water had left his system, so he allowed his attention to turn elsewhere. As he focused on the voice, he was slowly coming more into his senses. He felt like he was freezing, not simply numb as he had been before. He heard Michael’s voice and the background noises of the trees and wind, not just sharp ringing. Most importantly, his lungs were no longer on fire. He didn’t feel good by any means, but he was pretty sure that he was no longer dying.
Okay. Opening his eyes. He could do that. Slowly but surely, he watched the light of the moon come into view. He rolled over onto his back, wincing at the pain in his shoulders. Then, the light was being blocked by a head. Michael’s head.
Michael’s face, frowning and on the verge of tears. Michael’s hand made its way onto the side of Jeremy’s face, touching him softly. “Jeremy.”
Formulating a response was a tall order, so the boy simply blinked a few times and nodded. He watched as his best friend’s eyes frantically scanned him. His face, his body, the suit.
The suit.
Shit.
“Jeremiah Heere, you absolute idiot! I thought you were dead! I thought you died and you weren’t coming back and-” Michael let out the angriest sob that Jeremy had ever heard. The warmth of the other boy’s hand had left his face and was now being thrown about in exasperation. “And I absolutely hate you but oh my god, Jeremy, I love you. Never fucking do that to me again. Shit. Fuck.”
Jeremy nodded once more, trying to muster his strength to reply. “Love you too,” he murmured, mouthing the words more than speaking them.
“And, and, and—you’re Spider-Man, seriously? What the fuck, Jeremy?”
“Talk later,” Jeremy whispered. “Cuffs.”
“Cuffs? What are you saying? I just can’t believe that I’m supposed to be your best friend and you’ve hidden this from me for months, now. Months, Jeremy, and-” Michael paused as if he were suddenly remembering something. “Oh, shit, the handcuffs, sorry. God, Jeremy, what the fuck happened to you?”
“Talk later,” the boy repeated hoarsely. “Cold.”
Michael hesitantly nodded, watching Jeremy’s face for a long moment. As much as he wanted to scold him, he knew that he had to get out of his own head and help his best friend. “Okay, alright. Sorry. Talk later.” He moved his hands to gently urge Jeremy onto his side so that he could get a better look at the handcuffs. They were cheap-looking, but they dug into the skin on the boy’s wrists pretty intensely. There were angry red rims forming underneath them, and Michael suddenly felt all of his anger at Jeremy channel into pure rage for whoever did this. He knew that superheroes had enemies, obviously, but not Jeremy. Who had laid a hand on his best friend? On the guy that he valued above literally everyone else?
Jeremy could sense Michael’s tension. He swallowed and said, “Tell you everything. Later. ‘M sorry.”
“Let’s just get you home,” Michael breathed.
One thing at a time.
-
A pair of bolt cutters, two blankets, three cups of soup, and a frantic trip back to Michael’s house resulted in a Vaguely-Okay-Jeremy. They were sitting on a futon and he was pressed into the taller boy’s side comfortably, hands resting on Michael’s chest and legs draped over his lap. No discussion had taken place between the lake and the basement. But now, Jeremy was here. He was okay and huddled under blankets and he wasbreathing. He was wearing Michael’s pajamas, too-big sweatpants and a Nintendo 64 t-shirt. The incriminating suit rested in a heap in the corner of Michael’s bedroom, wet and miserable.
The taller boy’s arm rested against Jeremy’s shoulders. He chewed on his lips uncomfortably. Jeremy noted Michael’s unease and felt like he should probably do something to get the ball rolling on their conversation, but what was he supposed to say?
The boy took a deep breath and began, “Michael-”
“I-” Michael said at the exact same time.
“You go first,” Jeremy invited, not moving from his position against his best friend. He didn’t want to see the discomfort and unhappiness on his features.
“I just. I don’t really know what to say. I mean, Jeremy, it’s been a hell of an eventful night.”
Jeremy nodded. “I know. It’s been a lot. I’m sorry.”
“And earlier was great; the kissing, I mean,” Michael complimented, heat rising to his cheeks at the thought of it. Hours had passed since then: the sun would be coming up in due time. But the memory still seemed so close, like it was mere moments ago.
“It was great,” the smaller boy agreed. He shifted uncomfortably, the pause hanging in the air. “And I fucked it up. And I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Michael spoke softly, not even attempting to refute it. “What you said was shitty.” Both boys stared at the blank TV screen in front of them, unable to look at eachother. The air around them was heavy, filled with unspoken grievances.
“I know. I knew it was horrible the second I said it.”
“And yet you still left.” Michael shifted slightly, sighing. “Why’d you leave? I thought maybe you’d come down to apologize, but…”
“I don’t know,” he responded honestly. He didn’t know. That was precisely what he should have done. “I thought maybe letting you have some space was best.”
Michael nodded, accepting this answer as an okay one. “So you just decided to leave.”
Jeremy made a small hum in agreement. “I mean, I thought we would work it out in the morning. Like we always do. I was going to call you and apologize, and you were going to invite me over, and then everything was going to be fine. “
“But obviously something else came up,” the taller boy said, his voice more terse with the topic change. Jeremy was silent. Michael let out a long breath and said, “So. You’re Spider-Man. You’ve been lying to me about it for god knows how long. And you almost died tonight.” He counted these events on his fingers and then lifted the arm that wasn’t around his best friend to push his hair back from his forehead. “Am I missing anything?”
“No,” Jeremy spoke in a small voice. “That sounds about right.”
“So...is there anything you want to say to me?”
“There are a million things I want to say to you, Michael.” Jeremy transferred his weight, finally moving away from the other boy. He leaned against the cool metal of the arm of the futon. Watching as Michael followed suit, switching his position to lean against the opposite arm and parallel the position, he cleared his throat. “First of all, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I just, I don’t know, I guess I thought you would think I was crazy.”
“Jere-”
“No, let me say this. I thought that you would think I was crazy. And then, by the time I realized how stupid that was, I was too deep into this mess.”
“What does that even mean, Jeremy?”
“It means that I didn’t want to drag you into anything dangerous. There was no reason for me to put you on the line.” He folded his arms, finally looking up to meet Michael’s guarded eyes. “I didn’t know how to keep you safe if you were involved.”
“I didn’t need to be involved; I just should have known, at the very least.” He steeled himself for Jeremy’s gaze.
“You and I both know that if I had told you what I was doing every night, you would have wanted in. You wouldn’t have just stood by.”
“Maybe not, but-”
“And, Michael, admit it. You would have worried way more than necessary. What kind of friend would I be if I added that kind of stress to your life?”
Michael made no move to keep the venom out of his tone. “One who didn’t lie to me for months on end.”
“I’m sorry, but-”
“And on that account, actually, worrying wouldn’t have been unnecessary. You almost died, Jeremy. Dead. Gone. No longer breathing. Do you understand that?”
“I know, Michael, I was there.” Jeremy averted his gaze to the wall. “I didn’t know the SQUIP was literally going to attempt homicide. So sue me.”
“You don’t get to have an attitude with me right now,” Michael spoke sternly, locking his eyes on the other boy’s. “You were the one who lied, and you were the one who continued to lie even when you knew how worried I was.”
The blue-eyed-boy paused for a long moment. Letting out a defeated breath, he murmured, “I just wanted to keep you safe.”
“How are you supposed to keep me safe if you’re fucking dead, Jeremy?”
And. Well. He didn’t have a response for that one. It was at this moment that he looked, truly looked, at his best friend. He was a mess. Michael’s hair was sticking up at odd angles, his glasses askew, his jacket sleeves half-rolled and falling down. His jaw was set stubbornly and his arms were crossed, but Jeremy knew him too well. He was obviously upset, not just angry, but upset . He only bit his lower lip that hard when he was fighting tears. He only scratched at his bicep when he was bottling up his anxieties. “I’m sorry,” Jeremy said once more, only this time much softer and more sincere than he had since this entire ordeal began.
“I just. I don’t know what I would do, Jeremy. When I saw your face under that stupid goddamn mask, that was the most scared I’ve ever been. Ever. In my life,” Michael rubbed at his arm in a small attempt to comfort himself.
“I get it,” Jeremy all but whispered.
“And I was so mad at you, from before, but then you were dying. Like, actively not breathing.” Michael’s hands fumbled to mess with the zipper on his hoodie. “And I was so freaked out, I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted was to go back to the start of the night. I just wanted to kiss you again and I didn’t know if we’d get another chance to do that or talk or hug or...or anything.”
“But you saved my life. So we can get a chance to do those things,” the smaller boy responded, trying to lighten the mood. “I know I fucked up, but let me fix it.” He pushed his chest up a bit, moving closer and leaning in order to press a kiss against Michael’s cheek. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. All of it.”
“No more secrets?” Michael asked, his voice unsure. He sighed as he moved into a sitting position and he pulled Jeremy closer. They mirrored their arrangement from earlier in the conversation, the blue-eyed boy tucked against the other’s side.
“No more secrets,” he agreed.
“I hope you’re up for a long night,” the taller boy spoke, his tone more light-hearted than it had been in a while. “I want to know everything. I mean, you’re a superhero, Jeremy. That’s so fucking cool.”
With a laugh, Jeremy settled in to tell his best friend about it all. He’d wanted to share these events with Michael ever since the entire ordeal started. He rested his head against the other boy’s shoulder once more, claiming the warmth from him as he began his story.
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Video Game curse
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Could you turn the game quiet please, Dean?” Sam asks. “You don’t have to play it that loudly...”
“I’m not playing! I am doing research.” It was their new case. So much weirdness was almost too much even for them.
A girl witnessed her brother getting killed by a creature looking a lot like Bowser from Super Mario, a group of friends got attacked by Trevor from GTA five, one died the other two are still in the hospital, a boy was beaten up by Nathan Drake... everything seemed to be about video games. They called Charlie to use her expertise on the topic to see if there were any connections between the characters, but seemingly there wasn’t really.
Sam sighed and looked through the files they already had. It wasn’t much but at least the victims were seemingly connected. They were all big nerds loving the Games they got attacked by.
And now Dean uses the case as an excuse to play Pokemon Alpha Saphir on the Nintendo 3 DS.
“Yeah show ‘em!” Dean shouts. Sam looks over his shoulder. “You named it ‘Cas’?” He asks his brother amused.
“Shutup, it has the same color as his eyes.” Dean mumbles, face flushing red.
“Yeah, it’s blue, but I don’t see any other similarities...” Sam looked at the Pokemon that was seemingly a Mudkip. “Dean... come on, we have to get going, you know we wanted to talk to the boyfriend of the guy that got beaten up by that climbing-guy... Nathan... the boyfriend's name is Steve Davidson.”
Dean sighs and closes the DS. “Okay. Let’s go to the guy.”
“So you are saying that Thomas was totally into that Nathan Drake Game?” Dean asks. That fits with the other guys.
“Yeah... Tommy... he always loved Uncharted. Just like Dennis, they used to talk about it a lot... but Dennis also loved the old retro stuff you know...” Steve says the poor kid has red-rimmed eyes, probably cried a lot, since his boyfriend still didn’t wake out of the coma.
“Wait, Mandy’s brother... they were friends? We didn’t get that impression after our interview with Mandy and her parents.” Sam says raising his eyebrow.
The boy laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, I bet. They didn’t like Tommy that much...”
“Really? Why’s that?” Dean says leaning forward a bit.
“Why? Why the fuck do you think, agent? ‘cause he’s gay, obviously. They didn’t want their precious son to have contact with a guy like that... they damn religious... like ‘God doesn’t like fun’-religious, like most of the town... Tommy and I wanted to move because of that. Especially after the fire...” The guy stops and looks on the ground.
“Fire?” Sam asks.
“N-nothing...” He stands up. “I shouldn’t talk about this... please go now.”
“Well, that was weird...” Dean says as he sits down in the Impala. “What kinda fire did Steve mean, no one else mentioned any fire...”
Sam nods. “But I’m guessing that it was recent if it had any influence on Tommy’s and Steve’s decision to move. We should definitely look into this.”
“Soon,” Dean says and puts his hand on his stomach. “Now I am hungry. Let’s find a good Diner...”
They are waiting to get their orders, both of their gazes locked onto screens. Sammy’s on his laptop, researching the fire and Dean’s on the 3DS, he has to fight an Arena Boss soon and his Pokemon need some training.
“Dean! Get this. There really was a fire in town only a few months ago and guess where.” Sam says with a smug smile, that Dean doesn’t see because he’s still playing.
“Dunno.” Dean feels ready to get into the Arena now. Or should he wait? He doesn’t want his Pokemon to die again...
“In a video game store, doesn’t that fit a bit too well with this very video game themed murders?”
“Maybe... a bit.” Dean looks up from the DS, just to look down again.
“Dean. Focus!”
“I am focused...”
“Then put that thing away...”
“Just one sec...”
“Dean!”
The blonde waitress interrupts their quarrel. “Gentlemen. Your order...” Then she spots Dean’s DS. “Sir. Honestly, in your free time you can do whatever you want... but in our establishment, we don’t need games of the devil.” She says.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Dean looks up. What has the waitress against his DS.
“We believe in the lord and do not encourage any kind of devilish behavior...” The waitress says and goes away.
Dean puts his DS away with a bit of a pout. “Don’t get what’s devilish about my poor Game...”
“Maybe the hypnotic impact it has on you...” Sam says and starts eating. “What I wanted to say is that during that fire three people died. Two customers and the owner...”
“So you’re saying... vengeful spirit?” Dean asks.
This time Dean sees Sam’s grin and rolls his eyes. “Let’s check it out.”
The video game store is burned down completely. Dean looks at it. “Well, I’m guessing we won’t find anything useful here.”
“Nope...” Sam sighs nothing here. “Completely burned down.”
“And that’s good if you ask me!” An elderly man behind them says loudly. “Our priest is right. The stuff that this devil sold...” The man’s face twists in disgust as he shakes his head. “It’s good that he burns in hell now that bastard... tries to get our youth...” The man spits out and walks away.
“Well, have a nice day too...” Dean says, looking at Sam who seems just as irritated.
“I guess this town just has something against Games... I mean first the waitress, now that guy...” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Almost seems like the video game characters are trying to get revenge...”
Sam looks at his brother thoughtfully. “What if... there was another part of the article... apparently the cause of the fire wasn’t clear... the police looked into it... but dropped it after a few weeks. Because ‘there was no reason to believe that the cause was malicious arson’ one policewoman even got fired because she didn’t stop nagging.”
Dean grins. “Huh... and that guy just talked about a priest... so...”
“I’ll take the policewoman,” Sam says fast, not wanting his brother to get all of the fun.
“Aw come on... I don’t wanna talk with a stuck-up priest...”
Dean hates Sam, hates his stupid puppy dog eyes and how he always gets through with the stuff he wants.
He looks around in the church the only one in the small town. It’s not very big but there are a lot of people sitting around and preying. All of them are eyeing him strangely.
He eyes the pictures of the saints, all of them seem to look at him judgingly.
“Can I help you?” Dean looks at the small priest. “Yes... uh, are you the priest here? I’m Agent Chinaski, do you know a place where I we could talk, privately?” The priest shakes his head and looks at him sternly. “I have no secrets in front of my sheep.” He says and Dean sighs.
“We are looking into the things that recently happened in the last few weeks.” Dean starts and the priest nods. “Tragic... all of them... I wished I got to save them...”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Save?” The priest nods. “Yes... they were all involved in those awful, awful games...” “You mean the video games, right?” Some of the people start to whisper horrified. “Yes. They capture the youth, devilish, devilish things...” The priest's eyes narrow. “You are not... also a victim of them... are you young man?”
“Me? No... no. I don’t... have the time. Being an Agent and all...” Dean smiles.
“Realy... Agent Chinaski... don’t you know that lying is a sin?” The priest asks and Dean feels the warm breath in his neck. He turns around... Behind him stands a big blue monster... a tall monstrous version of the Mudkip he named after Cas.
Before Dean can say anything it attacks.
The visit at officer Bell’s hadn’t got Sam very far. The only thing he now knew was that the local priest seemed to have a personal grudge against video games and that he often rambled on about it in his services, something Sam had already figured and Dean probably knows more about it anyway, since he got to visit the priest himself.
Where is Dean anyway? Sam tries to phone him for the sixth time but no one is answering. Is he still at the church? Sam decides to go to the church himself.
It’s a short walk from the motel to the church and Sam has a bad feeling... Dean would have answered him long ago.
Dean runs for his life. The damn monster close behind him. He can hear the loud THUNK! THUNK! of its feet.
Dean is constantly slipping in puddles of water the Mudkip leaves.
Dean doesn’t even notice where he is running to. The Mudkip chases him into a forest and soon Dean stumbles over a wet root.
When he looks up the Mudkip is over him.
“MY DEAR SHEEP! THE SINNER WILL SOON BE WIPED FROM THIS EARTH. HE AND ALL THE OTHER SINNERS WE HAD TO SACRIFICE FOR GOD WILL BURN IN HELL!”
Sam has a bad feeling that Dean is the ‘Sinner’.He listens anxiously the service that the man is holding in there. People are cheering loudly at the idea of people burning in hell, yet another clue on how brainwashed the town looks up.
He looks around there is a small barn just behind the church... it looks very new. Sam goes and opens the door.
Dean is drowning. Drowning in water from a freaking Pokemon... that is looking down on him.
He’s trying hard to catch his breath again, but there is no way, his lungs are full of water... he looks up into the eyes of the Mudkip.
Eyes that suddenly don’t seem like those of a video game monster at all. They look like Cas’...
In the barn, the smell of fresh wood mixes with the ones of different herbs. There's a plan on one wall, a plan on how to burn the video game place with exactly three people in it. Sam looks over at a small table in front of him. On it lays a book... seemingly... magic.
Sam reads the first page.
When three sinners burn in the place of their sins, use their ashes to bind their souls, then they will clear the earth from the rest of the sinners...
Sam looks over on a small altar is a bowl with ash and some herbs... and oh god... Dean’s name is written with blood all over the altar. Sam wipes it fastly from the altar, hoping it will help Dean. Then he looks at the rest. He decides to just knock over the altar and hopes that is enough for the spirits to get freed. He calls officer Bell and tells her that he has found evidence that he has found evidence that the priest was involved in the fire.
Now he needs to find Dean.
“Dean! Dean, wake up... wake up...” Someone is clapping his cheeks.
Dean blinks fast and looks into his brother's eyes. He coughs loudly and tries to sit up.
“Easy there... easy...” Sam says when he slips down again. “Damn... what happened.”
“Cas... Cas tried to kill me...” Dean mumbles and coughs.
“Cas...?” Sam is really worried now. “Cas is not here, Dean...”
“Not that Cas... the other one the... Pokemon...” Dean sighs and coughs loudly again. “Dude... let’s get out of this town...”
Sam doesn’t object.
#inktoberbunker#day three#ficlet#sam winchester#dean winchester#bit of destiel... tiny bit#the explanation for any plot holes is: magic...#another one is that the third of October is almost over here...#I rushed this...#Sorry...#I also changed it a lot...
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