#plan 86: fix the finale

[painthorseblues]

CALLING ALL CREATORS!

There are only 10 days before registration for OPERATION: FIX THE FINALE closes!

This is a fandom event in honor of the collective trauma we all received in the finale of season 2. With your help, we can cheer up the fandom and bring some positivity back to the community. Registration forms close in 10 DAYS (April 30th), and can be accessed by going to the #announcements channel in The Clone Zone. (If it has been buried, check the pinned messages)

If you have any questions or concerns, please send me an ask or direct it to the #help-desk channel in the Discord. Since all participants of this event must be a server member, here’s a link to the server. We’re excited to see you there!

[swift-creates]

Summary:

Tech falls. Tech lives. Hemlock finds him. The Empire captures Strike while she tries to help the Bad Batch find their lost vode. Darth Vader is relegated to Mount Tantiss after failing his Master.

my fic for the event Operation: Fix the Finale to go with the amazing @cameronirat's wonderful art!!! (some fic scenes also co-written by Cam <3)

playlist | listening guide

[simply-ivanka]

How the Biden-Harris Economy Left Most Americans Behind

A government spending boom fueled inflation that has crushed real average incomes.

By The Editorial Board -- Wall Street Journal

Kamala Harris plans to roll out her economic priorities in a speech on Friday, though leaks to the press say not to expect much different than the last four years. That’s bad news because the Biden-Harris economic record has left most Americans worse off than they were four years ago. The evidence is indisputable.

President Biden claims that he inherited the worst economy since the Great Depression, but this isn’t close to true. The economy in January 2021 was fast recovering from the pandemic as vaccines rolled out and state lockdowns eased. GDP grew 34.8% in the third quarter of 2020, 4.2% in the fourth, and 5.2% in the first quarter of 2021. By the end of that first quarter, real GDP had returned to its pre-pandemic high. All Mr. Biden had to do was let the recovery unfold.

Instead, Democrats in March 2021 used Covid relief as a pretext to pass $1.9 trillion in new spending. This was more than double Barack Obama’s 2009 spending bonanza. State and local governments were the biggest beneficiaries, receiving $350 billion in direct aid, $122 billion for K-12 schools and $30 billion for mass transit. Insolvent union pension funds received a $86 billion rescue.

The rest was mostly transfer payments to individuals, including a five-month extension of enhanced unemployment benefits, a $3,600 fully refundable child tax credit, $1,400 stimulus payments per person, sweetened Affordable Care Act subsidies, an increased earned income tax credit including for folks who didn’t work, housing subsidies and so much more.

The handouts discouraged the unemployed from returning to work and fueled consumer spending, which was already primed to surge owing to pent-up savings from the Covid lockdowns and spending under Donald Trump. By mid-2021, Americans had $2.3 trillion in “excess savings” relative to pre-pandemic levels—equivalent to roughly 12.5% of disposable income.

So much money chasing too few goods fueled inflation, which was supercharged by the Federal Reserve’s accommodative policy. Historically low mortgage rates drove up housing prices. The White House blamed “corporate greed” for inflation that peaked at 9.1% in June 2022, even as the spending party in Washington continued.

In November 2021, Congress passed a $1 trillion bill full of green pork and more money for states. Then came the $280 billion Chips Act and Mr. Biden’s Green New Deal—aka the Inflation Reduction Act—which Goldman Sachs estimates will cost $1.2 trillion over a decade. Such heaps of government spending have distorted private investment.

While investment in new factories has grown, spending on research and development and new equipment has slowed. Overall private fixed investment has grown at roughly half the rate under Mr. Biden as it did under Mr. Trump. Manufacturing output remains lower than before the pandemic.

Magnifying market misallocations, the Administration conditioned subsidies on businesses advancing its priorities such as paying union-level wages and providing child care to workers. It also boosted food stamps, expanded eligibility for ObamaCare subsidies and waved away hundreds of billions of dollars in student debt. The result: $5.8 trillion in deficits during Mr. Biden’s first three years—about twice as much as during Donald Trump’s—and the highest inflation in four decades.

Prices have increased by nearly 20% since January 2021, compared to 7.8% during the Trump Presidency. Inflation-adjusted average weekly earnings are down 3.9% since Mr. Biden entered office, compared to an increase of 2.6% during Mr. Trump’s first three years. (Real wages increased much more in 2020, but partly owing to statistical artifacts.)

Higher interest rates are finally bringing inflation under control, which is allowing real wages to rise again. But the Federal Reserve had to raise rates higher than it otherwise would have to offset the monetary and fiscal gusher. The higher rates have pushed up mortgage costs for new home buyers.

Three years of inflation and higher interest rates are stretching American pocketbooks, especially for lower income workers. Seriously delinquent auto loans and credit cards are higher than any time since the immediate aftermath of the 2008-09 recession.

Ms. Harris boasts that the economy has added nearly 16 million jobs during the Biden Presidency—compared to about 6.4 million during Mr. Trump’s first three years. But most of these “new” jobs are backfilling losses from the pandemic lockdowns. The U.S. has fewer jobs than it was on track to add before the pandemic.

What’s more, all the Biden-Harris spending has yielded little economic bang for the taxpayer buck. Washington has borrowed more than $400,000 for every additional job added under Mr. Biden compared to Mr. Trump’s first three years. Most new jobs are concentrated in government, healthcare and social assistance—60% of new jobs in the last year.

Administrative agencies are also creating uncertainty by blitzing businesses with costly regulations—for instance, expanding overtime pay, restricting independent contractors, setting stricter emissions limits on power plants and factories, micro-managing broadband buildout and requiring CO2 emissions calculations in environmental reviews.

The economy is still expanding, but business investment has slowed. And although the affluent are doing relatively well because of buoyant asset prices, surveys show that most Americans feel financially insecure. Thus another political paradox of the Biden-Harris years: Socioeconomic disparities have increased.

Ms. Harris is promising the same economic policies with a shinier countenance. Don’t expect better results.

[trashmouth-richie]

ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

MODERN! EDDIE x FEM! READER

MODERN! KING! STEVE x FEM READER

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

summary: taking the back roads to Indianapolis was Eddie’s idea. the day trip there was Steve’s. But when Wayne’s borrowed truck grinds to a halt on the hottest day in September, the tension and the boys’ tempers aren’t the only thing to rise.

warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol use, drug use, drug mention, kinda sadboy! Eddie, king Steve being king Steve, modern times so things such as google and Snapchat are mentioned. no use of y/n, reader has a nickname, pet name usage.

The blazing swell of the late September sun had been pelting down on you all day. Stuffed right between your best friend Eddie and his best friend Steve, the humid Midwest air trickled through the open windows in a hazy wave of oven door heat. 

  Between Steve’s hair-brained idea of driving to Indianapolis for tickets to the annual Irvington Halloween Festival and Eddie’s even more ridiculous idea of taking Wayne’s single cab truck, without A/C to make the 4 hour round trip drive— it was no surprise when the clunking metal of the brown ‘86 Chevy spluttered to a grinding stop alongside the highway. 

  100 miles from Hawkins, and nothing but pent up anger boiling at the surface to keep you all company.

  “Oh this is just great Munson,” Steve groaned, swinging open his door and slamming it shut with a metallic bang. A ring of sweat set deep in the Hawkins athletic shirt he was wearing, a heavy hand pushing his hair from his face, “dude, let’s take the truck!” he mocks the long haired metal head, “fuckin’ told you this would happen!” 

  The boys weren’t exactly getting along for the entirety of this trip. Eddie and you had made plans to decorate your apartment tonight for Halloween, a month too early just like you did every year, a night full of themed snacks and cheesy 80s horror movies, the perfect opportunity to finally make his move. 

  But when Steve showed up at the light blue trailer looking for his wingman to help him score at Hargrove’s party— he was less than impressed to find you peeking around Eddie’s outstretched arm holding open the door, a shit-eating grin on your face. Even more pissed when Eddie told him that you would be tagging along. A roll of his eyes and a scoff on his lips as he pounded down the concrete steps. 

  Steve wasn’t your favorite and you definitely weren’t his. He didn’t get the appeal.. Always too loud, too annoying, acting like one of the boys when clearly you were just too insecure to have any friends that were girls. 

  As he stomped through the dead grass he told himself it had nothing to do with the fact that you turned him down freshman year, never mind that it was six years ago and Steve had plenty of girls added to his belt, his snap score and drawer full of stolen panties proved it. Never mind that his bruised ego from that night at a bonfire in the woods pushed him into his King Steve era. He flicked a cigarette into the dirt, muttering under his breath. 

  “Fuck off, Harrington.” Eddie gripes as he shoves the gear shift into neutral, he lowers down to his left and pulls the hood jack towards him. “It’ll be an easy fix.” He says to you, his breath fanning your sweaty cheek as he shoves open the door and jumps out, boots crunching along the gravel as he pushes the hood open. 

  To be fair, Wayne’s truck had about a 50/50 chance of making the trek to Indianapolis, but Eddie had wanted to take it for a few reasons, and not one of them was for a trip down memory lane like he had told Steve. 

  The first reason he wanted to drive the truck opposed to Steve’s BMW, was lol was because it was a stick shift. An opportunity to let him float the gears and have his veins pop out that he knew was a panty wetter for most girls, he had only hoped you fit into that category. 

  The second reason was simple: there was no air conditioning, meaning the small tank top you were wearing would undoubtedly become very hot, and maybe… just maybe you would think of taking it off to cool down. 

  And finally the third reason mimicked the first… you would be sitting bitch in the middle, and with each shift between gears, his arm would be sliding around the soft plains of your luscious thighs. The same thighs that were bare besides a high waisted pair of cut off shorts that had his mind flipping the perv meter to dangerous levels when you hopped off your bike this morning.

  Greeting him with the same smile that cooked his brain to mush for years. 

  Only today— you were starting to flirt back with him, pushing your ass out and bending at the waist just to untie your shoes. Even though in the history of forever, you had never once taken off your worn converse in the Munson trailer. You also were wearing a tank top, accentuating your curves, and Eddie was ready to chew a hole in the makeshift drywall of his trailer when you bounced up the steps to greet him. 

  Usually you hid your body with a baggy shirt and a pair of jeans, your fuck-off attitude is what earned you the right to have Eddie as a friend in the first place. 

  Tonight he was going to push the limits, share a joint with you when the yellow harvest sun dipped low into the indigo trees, kiss your ear with chapped lips while he held you when the movie had a jump scare… he had a plan. And Steve ‘cockblock’ Harrington was being the worst wingman of all time. 

  Sliding out of Eddie’s door, the Navajo rug blanket snags against the cracked leather of the worn seat. The back of your knees were sticky and shiny with sweat, same as your cleavage, not a single stitch of wind to be found along the gravel road— unless you counted Steve’s annoyed huffs.

—

  Steve bitched and moaned the entire time Eddie was bent over the truck. Investigating what had gone wrong, “aren’t you supposed to be some sorta mechanic?” He grumbled, pushing his hair from his forehead, slotting his hands back into place around the Levi’s on his athletic hips, “swear to God if you make me miss this party, and what Lily has been teasing me with on snap,” his eyes roll into the back of his head at the thought of it, almost letting out a desperate whine.. “I’ll shoot you dead Munson.” 

  “Take it easy Stevie,” Eddie grunted, his jaw tensed and an irritated tone on his lips. His brows turned inward in concentration as he twisted a wrench with strong grease covered hands from behind the hood, “just need’t..  fuck.” Dark smoke started billowing out around him.

  His foul mouth spewed a string of words that barely made any sense, ending his fit with a slam of the hood and his wrench thrown into the ditch. 

  You walk pointed nails across his sweat covered bare back easing his bruised ego with a sickly sweet voice, “it’s okay,” you preen, pushing your chest into his side  when he wiggles from your tickling fingers, his dark eyes swirling into calm and the huff from his breath lost in his throat, “I’ll just call AAA.” 

  AAA did not service in your area, and according to google— the nearest gas station was twenty miles away, a podunk hole in the wall that sold newspapers for a quarter and had 1 star reviews. 

  “Fuck,” Eddie shouted, kicking the tires and hiding the burn of ache traveling up his leg, “the hell are we gonna do now?” 

  “Guess we’re fucking stranded! Great idea Munson, gonna die by the inbred hands of the family from The Hills Have Eyes, but god we just had to take this piece of shit!.” Steve spit as he flopped back into the bed of the truck. 

  Eddie pointed a greased finger into Steve’s chest, “you,” he said prodding with emphasize, “were the one who didn’t want to buy them online, oh God Eddie let’s just get out of Hawkins for the day, make Lily sweat a little bit, make her think I have a bitch in Indy..” 

  “Fuck off,” Steve said shoving Eddie’s hand away, sitting up, casting a stank eye in your direction, voice laced in venom, “at least my dick is getting w—”

  A pack of cards hits Steve right in the chest, hard and knocking the insult from his lungs. 

  It was your idea.

  The slick pack of cards in the glove box with paisley red design on the front was sure to lend some relief and make time pass between now and when Robin would be on the way, driving Steve’s BMW with white knuckles and the radio off no doubt. You had texted her when the boys were arguing, explaining the situation and promising her a small white baggy from Eddie’s stash when you got back. 

  “great idea,” Steve accuses, “s’ gonna take at least 2 hours to get here,” his hands fly in the air in defeat as he yells, “she’s failed her drivers test four fuckin’ times because she drives like my grandma, and that old bag has been dead for years!” 

  “Cool it, you didn’t have any other ideas besides whining Steve,” Eddie defends, fingers wrapped around the neck of a foggy glass bottle filled with amber liquor, he hands it to you in a slick move of his wrist bending and presenting both a blunt and the bottle like a flower blooming in his open palm, “might as well relax a little s Sswhile we wait, make it worth our while.” 

  The liquor went down with a burn, hotter than the pinked shoulders of Eddie’s sunburnt skin. And the small band of splotchy salmon across Steve’s nose. 

  Eddie wrestled a dusty moth bitten blanket from behind the seat, and spread it on the bed of the truck. Before you could push your ass up onto the tailgate, he had wrapped his hands tight along your hips and hoisted you up. A grip so tight he didn’t want to let go, your body feeling just right in his palms, and you were feeling it too. 

  As the liquor bottle got lighter and lighter, the tension eased, Steve was actually laughing at Eddie’s jokes and wasn’t rolling his eyes as much when he had to give you a card or when Eddie praised you for winning again. 

  When Steve threw his cards on the blanket and twisted his arms in a pout at losing another round of Go Fish, it was his idea to play another game. 

  “It’s real easy,” he explained around a puff of smoke as he shuffled the cards back into the pack with his large tanned hands, a single bead of sweat sloping down from his temple and curling around his chin. “You hold up five fingers, and if you’ve never done what one of us says, you keep a finger up, but if you have… you put a finger down and take a sh—- hey dickhead!” 

  Eddie’s lips turn sinister around the glass bottle as rogue drops of Crown dribble from his chin. “Ooops,” he says coyly, eyes bigger than Betty Boop’s and already feeling the combined high and drunken stupor take over his body, “were you needing this?” 

  Dragging a hand down his face, Steve sighs, “yeah it’s kinda the whole point of the game, fucker,” 

  “Hey…” Eddie whines, “be nice Stephanie.” 

  With another ten minutes of arguing about Eddie being a jackass and Steve being crabby in hot weather, you all agree to play the game, the loser has to finish the bottle and strip off an item of clothing. 

  “Okay so let’s start this easy,” Steve explained, “never have I ever been arrested.”

  Eddie puts a finger down and scowls, “good one Harrington,” he adjusts his legs and leans back against the frame of the truck, “just because you got away doesn’t mean your ass wasn’t just as guilty as mine.” 

  “Shoulda ran faster,” 

  The boys make annoyed faces at each other and it’s Eddie’s turn, “never have I ever… nope I’ve done that… never have I.. shit.. okay pass! I gotta think.” 

  “Your turn,” he says, passing you the bottle of almost empty liquor.

  “Okay, Uhh..” you hold the bottle with both hands and gently peel back the label with your fingernail, rubbing the sticky residue between your fingers, you rack your brain for something that would get them both, “never have I ever… peed standing up.” 

  The boys roll their eyes, and each put a finger down, “cheap shot,” Steve whines, and glowers when you stick your tongue out at him. 

  “Oh I got one!” Eddie says rubbing his hands together, splaying a wicked grin on his face, “never have I ever, socked Billy Hargrove in the face.”

  You push Eddie’s shoulder and slap his chest playfully, as he laughs like a hyena, “he deserved it!” 

  Steve chokes on his inhale of the passed blunt, “that was you?!” 

  “Fuck yeah it was!” Eddie says proudly, “that’s why she’s banned from the pool.” 

  Laughing at the now funny memory of Billy slapping your ass as you walked by him in your swimsuit. 

  The way Eddie’s fist felt in your hands as you shoved it down, the rage in his eyes as he was ready to beat the bricks off of Billy. 

  The sick twist of his mustache when it formed a grin knowing that Eddie was on his last strike with Hopper and couldn’t defend you. 

  And the satisfying crack of his molars splintering in his gum line when you knocked your fist into his jaw.

  The pain and swollen fingers were worth it. 

  “And I’d do it again,” you say lowering a finger and taking a swig from the bottle, the burn of the liquor barely there now. 

  Steve laughs, a new sense of almost admiration, as he looks at you with his hair in his face, grabbing the joint from Eddie’s fingers and holding it firm between his teeth, “my turn,” he says clearing his throat, “uh..never have I ever… kissed Eddie.” 

  You and Eddie look at eachother and giggle awkwardly around the cloud of dense smoke, but your fingers never budge. 

  “Seriously?” Steve says incredulously, looking from you to Eddie and back to Eddie and then you again, “can’t lie in this game, dude.” 

  Eddie had come close to kissing you on a few occasions. Once in high school at Steve’s party after winning the beer pong tournament, he looked at you the way someone would a lover, wetting his lips and looking at your mouth, but in the end he gave you a bone crushing hug and twirled you around the room. 

  Another time during the 4th of July fireworks last year when you had both smoked two bowls from the pretty pipe he gifted you earlier that year on your birthday.

  The air was warm, just like today, and you leaned your back into his front as you laid lazily on the roof of his van. He was singing a song you were too high to comprehend and when you turned your head into his shoulder and looked up at him. 

  His fingers wrapped around a lock of your hair and you hummed in approval. Snuggling further into him. And the next thing you knew it was nearly dawn and you had fallen asleep. 

  It just never seemed like the right time. 

  “So who’s turn is it?” Eddie said clearing his throat. 

  “Oh n-n-n-n-n-n-no!” Steve said leaning further into the circle, clearly interested to know what’s going on, “we aren’t just gonna skate past this.”

  “Drop it, Steve,” Eddie said all too fast, his boots stretching out to kick at his thigh. 

  The bottle in your hands is suddenly heavy and you set it down with a clunk on the bed of the truck. And you pick hastily at your nails, avoiding two sets of brown eyes. 

  “Fuck it,” Steve says, tongue dancing around his mouth trying to stop a smirk, “I dare you to kiss her.” 

  You're certain your heart stops beating. 

  “Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs. Running his hand on the back of his neck, his open cut off flannel shirt showing off his tattooed chest. 

  “Y-you don’t have to Eddie, it’s okay…” you say trying to brush the tension off, not noticing the way his hands are fiddling with the ends of his shirt and how his eyes haven’t left you, “but I dare you to.” 

  It could have been the combined high. It could have been the fact that you hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eddie since you parked your bike against his trailer this morning. 

  He was always good looking, in that goofy best friend kind of way. And although your friendship was never normal, Eddie’s hands always searing through your skin like grill marks on a hotdog, it never crossed the boundary into something more. And you’d be lying if you weren’t curious about how his lips would taste. 

  That was all the convincing Eddie needed before he pushed himself up in a fluid motion, balancing on his knees, and leaning back with a second guess, but it’s you who leans up on your knees too, meeting him halfway.  

  His dark curls swing around your face as he gets impossibly closer. “You sure?” he asks, working a finger under the tip of your chin. 

  And your surprised when your nod is followed by soft lips, slipping against yours. 

  He tasted like the liquor you’ve been drinking and matches. Musky, and woodsy. Your tongue swipes against his bottom lip and catches into the corner of his mouth, the brine of sweat on your tongue has you whining into his mouth and he swallows your noises with glee. 

  He shudders when you pull him closer, fingers hooked into the fabric of his shirt. His eager hands holding your face, lips smacking against yours, and for the first time today, it’s not the heat that has your panties wet. 

  Kissing Eddie is like finding money in your jeans after they go through the dryer. It’s easy, and slow, and so fucking good. 

  Seconds, minutes, days? go by before Steve clears his throat and mutters an ahem! 

  Eddie finished the kiss by nudging is nose down the apple of your cheeks and kissing behind your ear. 

  “Fuck…” is all Steve can muster and you bite your lip and sit back down, lips still buzzing with Eddie’s spit still on them. 

  Eddie is smiling and looking at you, eyes drunk on lust. 

  “I— uh, yeah, it’s my turn I guess, ” straightening your back and crossing your legs in a pretzel, you know damn well you’d get at least one finger down from Steve. “Never have I ever… kissed Nancy Wheeler.”

  Steve rolls his eyes and puts a finger down, and when a long finger covered in grease despite the many wipes against denim jeans  also disappears into a fist… a sloppy grin lines Eddie’s mouth as Steve looks like he might throw up. 

  “Are you fuckin’ serious man?” 

  Eddie explains to a butthurt Steve, “let me explain, fuck— it was like a hundred years ago, after junior year, she kissed me!” 

  It was true. 

  Nancy went to Eddie to buy some “forget-‘ems” (Eddie’s coined word for ecstasy) after Jonathan left her for the pretty long haired new boy from California. She was scared and didn’t want to be alone while she took the white pill. Drug use being foreign to her entirely. 

  Eddie? She had asked kindly, unsure about herself for the first time. Take it with me? 

  His long curls bounced as he nodded his head, taking one of the pills from her dainty hands and placing it between his teeth. Tipping his head back with a quick jerk and a rough swallow, hoping it looked cool, he looked into her blue eyes and gave her a grin. 

  It was strange, having the preppy Nancy Wheeler in his trailer with her proper fitting cardigan and light wash skinny jeans. 

  He could tell she was uncomfortable, the normal glow of her skin was lost behind shallow cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, pressed tight with setting powder to try and hide it. 

  maybe she should have had a smaller dose, being that her small frame had never dealt with drugs before. And right when Eddie’s high took over, Nancy Wheeler had started to feel it too.

  She ran around the trailer giggling and feeling the rough edges of the peeling wallpaper. She did flips on Eddie’s bed and spilled cereal all over the kitchen, laughing with dark wide pupil filled eyes. Completely rolling. 

  The high lasted longer than Eddie had thought it would, and she started to cry when thinking about her mom, crying harder when she asked Eddie about his. Forgetting she was gone. 

  She took it a step further by kissing Eddie square on the mouth, wet cheeks and harsh lips pressed to his before he could pull away. And immediately after, Nancy threw up all over his lap. 

  Ending the high and the four hour sudden friendship they had gained. 

  Eddie had told you the story one night when he got too drunk, making you swear to secrecy the next morning that you’d never tell a soul, and you hadn’t. Keeping the pinky promise with your friend all the way to your grave— if he hadn’t just spilled it all to Steve. 

  “See,” you say to try to smooth things over, voice calm and cool through your own high, “no harm no foul, Stevieee,” you chirped, hiding a small giggle behind bit lips. 

  “Really?” Steve spit, flustered and a bit bold trying to mask his hurt with venom. Tongue pressing deep into his cheek and his dark eyes locked on your own, hands tapping onto his bent knees, “then maybe we should even the score, huh?”

  Eddie blows a ring of smoke into the air, following its lazy descent into the dense humid sky. “You wanna kiss Chrissy?” He looks at you with a quizzical expression, laughing at your stunned face, not understanding what Steve is getting at, “be my fucking guest, dude.” 

  “No,” Steve says firmly, not breaking eye contact with you, dark knives of fury peel back each layer of skin, “her.” 

  Eddie says your name in disbelief, and you’re stunned to your core, realizing the air was suddenly much stickier and hotter than before. 

  He sits up straight and leans over the discarded card game, pointing at Steve, eyes narrowed in on him, “you don’t even like her.” 

  “Sure I do,” Steve lies, sniffing loudly, his wicked eyes glance towards Eddie and he licks his lips when he turns his head back to you, eyeing you up and down, as he leans back on his palms, “don’t I, Taffy?” 

  Eddie’s nickname he had given you when you were kids for love of the cavity inducing candy, felt wrong falling from Steve’s mouth, especially in the grim sentiment it was said in. 

  Of course he was referring to the way he had approached you at that party at the lake all those years ago. 

  You could still smell his Acqua Di Gio cologne, the way the sun highlighted his hair that summer, the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the warm beer on his breath. 

  You make a face in disgust towards him, “I’m not kissing you, Harrington.” Crossing your arms in finality as if your words held enough power to command an entire kingdom. 

  Eddie shoves Steve’s shoulder, “what the fuck man,” mixed pleasure of pain and concern painting his face, “don’t be weird.”

  Steve knew how much Eddie liked you, having spent many nights on the roof of his practically abandoned home listening to Eddie through FaceTime over analyzing how to make his move. 

  “‘m not,” he says with a shrug, long fingers tapping against the metal of the truck bed behind him, legs stretched out so the tops of his air forces skim your bent knees, eyeing what he wanted, you. 

  “just trying to get even,” Steve said nonchalantly. 

  “She’s not gonna kiss you,” Eddie said, shaking his head and throwing his hands around, hurt lacing his voice, “give it up.” 

  Steve wiggled the toe of his sneaker against your knee, shooting you a wink, “not until she does.”

  It’s not as if the question hadn’t crossed your mind. It had more times than you’d like to admit. What would it be like to kiss Steve Harrington? 

  “Dude! She doesn’t wanna do it. Fucking leave her alone.” Eddie’s voice was loud and on the cusp of breaking as he pleaded with his friend.

  What would have happened if you fell for his charm instead of turning him down? He was definitely sweet back then, taking your hand in his and guiding you along the rough terrain of the woods. 

  “Let her speak for herself!” 

  Eddie’s eyes fall to yours in desperation, his heart aching for you to tell Steve off, “c’mon, tell him, Taffy.” 

  Pressing your eyes shut tight you can feel Eddie’s hand on your knee, rubbing soft circles in an attempt to remind you that he’s there. 

  “One.”

  “What?”

“What!”

  “Just one kiss, then you need to shut up, got it?” 

  “Taff, you don’t have to do this, we can— we can just get home and I’ll pay him or something.” He’s desperate, willing to do whatever it took to not have this happen. 

  “It’s okay, Eddie, what’s one stupid kiss gonna hurt?” 

  You don’t hear the way he groans and throws himself back against the side of the truck, pinching the corner of his eyes between his fingers trying to ignore Steve’s low chuckle and smirk planted on his face. 

  “C’mon then,” Steve presses, man spreading his legs and patting his lap, “get over here.” 

  You roll your eyes and push yourself up again, “cocky aren’t ya?” 

  “all confidence babe,” he says back, licking his lips, and you roll your eyes again before kneeling in front of him. 

  Eddie groans and kicks at Steve’s leg again. 

  “Sorry dude, just bro code,” he said to Eddie, “and you,” he says addressing you with a nod, “ready?” 

  “Yeah, whatever.” 

  He doesn’t move like Eddie, he’s grabby and rough, taking what he wants and not waiting for cues. He bullies his way into your mouth with his tongue, colliding yours with his and massaging it wildly. It wasn’t bad, just completely different than how you were just kissed by Eddie. When his teeth bite the flesh of your lip you yelp in surprise.

  You turn your head and Steve’s lips trail down your neck, hungry hands grab at your waist and pull you into his lap. Your eyes are closed but his are open, looking at his friend and moving his hand in a wave to beckon him over. 

  A second set of hands is on your shoulders and you feel Eddie’s lips against your neck. 

  “This okay baby?” 

  His breath is hot and stuttering as you reach up and fist your fingers in his hair, your answer muffled by Steve’s mouth. 

  You moan their names, and it drives Eddie wild. 

  Eddie’s hands lower the strap of your tank top scraping your skin with the blunt of his nails. He groans when he sees the absence of a bra strap, diving into your warm skin with a lapping tongue, thrashing slow against your skin, working a strawberry shaped bruise into your skin.

  Steve’s hands are already working to pop the button on your jeans, and you whine when you feel his hard cock beneath your leg. 

  “So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie breathes as you crane your neck to meet his lips, desperate for your lips to connect with his sgain. 

  His hands fumble on your tank top straps and he groans when his fingers skim over the swell of your tits, you twist his hair in your fingers when his rough hands pinch at your nipples.

  Steve takes his shirt off and tosses it carelessly, his skin is warm on your bare chest as he licks at your exposed neck and earns another moan from you, causing you to whine into Eddie’s mouth and move your hips against his cock. 

  You’re all a tangle of bare chests and sweat coated skin. The boys are barely giving you any time to breathe between open mouth kisses and lazy tongues before the other one commands your attention. 

  “oh, fuck,” Steve whimpers when he works your shorts down, his large fingers find their way into the wet folds of your pussy, “no panties?” 

  Eddie pulls his mouth from yours to let out a desperate groan as your hands unzip his jeans, “shit, all day and no bra or panties,” his hands caress your cheeks and his thumb slips into your mouth open, which you close around him and moan, “you’re a bad girl, huh?” 

  “With the tightest little pussy, fuck,” Steve groans as he pushes a finger into your slick walls. 

  “Mm’mm” you answer them both at once, grabbing needy at Eddie’s cock through his boxer briefs as it flips into your hand, heavy and leaking a pearl of cum from the slit. 

  Noises of all kinds flood the bed of the truck. 

  Wet sloshing from you gushing over Steve’s fingers, him coaxing an orgasm from you as quick as he could, determined to hear your pretty mouth hum. 

Eddie almost in tears as your mouth devours his length  and the head of his cock slides into your throat. 

  The velvet skin of Eddie’s heavy cock slides in and out of your mouth at a slow speed, a small patch of hair rubs on your nose as you take him deeper.

  He’s muttering incoherently and Steve is egging you on. His lips wrapped around your nipples and teeth nipping harshly. 

  “Jesus Jesus sweetheart, Taff— I’m gonna, don’t want to shit shit shit,” you open your mouth and he slides out on accident as you cum all over Steve’s fingers. Sloppy and wet as he rubs at your clit like a DJ. 

  “Thas’it,” he encourages, “so fucking wet, pretty little pussy, yeah, you like this? The two of us giving you what you want huh?” 

  “Yes, Jesus Christ yes!” you’re a blabbing mess, as your high peaks and Eddie spins you away from Steve.

  Steve’s jeans are soaked from you and he’s pitching a tent big enough to host a family reunion. 

  “My turn baby,” Eddie says kissing you sloppy on your lips, “been wantin’ to taste this sweet pussy for years.”

  He helps you lay down on the blanket, making a makeshift pillow with the discarded clothes from the three of you. 

  You’re covered in sweat and more than likely sunburnt in places no one ever should be, but you could care less. Being worshiped by Steve and Eddie had you feeling like the sexiest woman alive, and nothing could compare to the separate high that alone was giving you. 

  Eddie nudges his nose in the crook where your thighs meet, tongue lapping up the pleasure leftover from Steve. “What’d’ya think Stevie boy? Wanna bet I can make her cry?” 

  Steve’s busying himself with unthreading his legs from his jeans, his cock in his hand as he strokes it up and down at the sight of you spread out and naked for them. 

  “You’re on, Munson.”

  Eddie’s tongue was tantalizing. Demon-like against your puffy clit and going further into your pussy than any tongue has before, including Robin’s. 

  His nose pushes up against your clit as he goes deeper, swirling his wicked tongue and slurping your folds into his mouth. 

  You’re buzzing all over. Vibrating from the intense pleasure. Moaning and yanking Eddie’s hair between your fingers as he moves and licks and darts his tongue. 

  Pretty whimpers elicit your body and are swallowed by Steve’s lips, as he hungrily works his tongue into your mouth. The swirling and twirling is all too much.  Their tongues work like hands on a clock and your second orgasm arrives quick fast and in a hurry. The tears spill from your eyes as your writhe and moan beneath them, clawing every inch of their skin. 

  Eddie cleans you up with his tongue holding your hips in place as you shake and try to wiggle away from him. Too sensitive as you lay practically lifeless on the bed of the truck. 

  “Told you,” Eddie says as he sits up, with a sheen of your arousal all over his face. Smiling wide. “I’m just that good.” 

  Steve sits up and tucks his cock back into his boxers, pushing his hair back from his sweat slicked face, “yeah yeah, whatever…” he says, looking out towards the blue sky and the wavering, heat wave horizon, a stupid grin on his lips, “better get dressed sweet girl.” 

  “Thought we were just getting started,” you whine as Eddie kisses his way up your body, laying on his back next to you, his finger threaded with yours. 

  Steve chuckles and points a long finger to the road, “it’ll have to be another time, princess, our ride is almost here.” 

I have a part two partly written .. lemme know what you would think of that?

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

[biblicallyinaccuratespoons]

Linked Universe Links Custom Skates Explained!

yeah, i'm really milking this, aren't i? based on this post of mine!

Close-ups and explanations under the cut!!

Legend: his in-lines were half custom built, half attacked with leather/vinyl paint and stickers. Marin painted the hibiscus while Ravio put on the rupee sticker and Legend was gifted the pink bunny. The toe protector was an add on by Ravio to tie in the magenta wheels. They’re a bit of a hodgepodge but Legend likes them.

Hyrule: his are hand-me-downs from someone in the chain. Wild, probably. Once he can actually skate he’s planning on getting a nice pair for himself. According to Legend these skates were once a nice light yellow.

Warriors: CUSTOM SUEDE MOXI SKATES. Yes i am dropping names in this lmao. He originally started the sparkly wheel kick the chain seems to be on. His other skate has the reverse stopper (stopper on the back) as his are specifically made for dancing. He religiously takes care of the suede and keeps his bearings perfectly cleaned and oiled, and his trucks perfectly loosened to his liking. Yes they were over $500. Yes they were worth it. If you were wondering: yes. The wheels light up too. i want them so badlyyyy

Wind: they were a regular pair of Rio skates that he let Tetra take leather paint to. She tried to paint the ocean but it turned out more like blue flames. Whatever, he likes them. They go fast and he had fun making them his. Once he stops growing he’s gunning for a better pair though, ones that go EVEN FASTER. my friend @/lunalia_121 on twitter helped me figure out the design of these!

Time: He bought his Riedells back in ‘86 and he’s NOT giving them up. These things go for $2000 now! He recently had to replace his wheels since they finally wore out (again, they’re ancient), Warriors convinced him to join the sparkly side. He has long ass laces that he has to wrap around his boot at least twice before they’re even manageable. Next time Warriors is gonna need to bring him to get new stoppers, they are just about worn out too. He also likes keeping his trucks nice and loose, a trait Warriors learned from him.

Wild: As i said; derby style skates. Flora painted the silent princess on his heel for good luck and he personally seeks out to murder anyone who makes him scuff it by accident. He skates for the Sheika team and therefore their logo is both on his helmet and scribbled onto his skates. tie up your goddess-damned laces

Twilight: HOWDY. YOU ASK I DELIVER, WHAT CAN I TELL YA? But no, I un-ironically love these. He found them on the internet and fixed them up. He loves them so much, the matte leather is always taken care of perfectly. When he’s not wearing them he keeps a skate key in them. Since they were kinda cheaply made the trucks and shocks are always wonky so he has to fix them up at the beginning of every night. He’s saving up to rebuild them.

Four: padded vinyl skates. They were originally made as dancing skates, but he just uses them for leisure. One of Warrior’s friends outgrew them so they sold them to Four for a good price. They’re a little much with all the gold and embellished stitching, but he likes them. He keeps up the different coloured wheels even if it means he buys Four packs when he needs more. Though, he doesn't have to buy a new set the next four times the wheels go wonky.

Sky: gimme these i need them so bad please please PLEASE!!! They were just plain blue Impalas when he bought them, Sun said they were too plain. Sky painted the design on the tongue and the clouds, Sun found the wings in a skate store and added on the details so they looked more like Sky’s bird, Crimson. Another perpetrator of the sparkly wheel agenda.

--- --- ---

the art of this took six hours from start to finish, so yeah, I'm really proud of it! i may end up making more of these if you like them, and if you draw any of the characters in these, tag me!!!!

[yuanf3]

VIXEN — HAN SEOUL-OH

2. chapter two — "heart-to-heart"

series masterlist

A/N sorry everyone for the delay, got caught up with school - anyway, here's chapter two, hope you like it <3

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The sun bore down relentlessly, casting waves of heat that seemed to dance off the cracked pavement. Beads of sweat formed on my brow and I let out a breath but remained focused, my hands steady on the wheel of the 86’ Honda Civic. I sat patiently, my eyes fixed on the men across the street, their movements deliberate as they loaded duffel bags into the sleek black SUV. 

Come on, let's go already.

As they finally finished — thank fucking God — and climbed into the vehicle, I fired up the engine of my own car and reached for the burner phone, fingers dancing over the screen to dial Dom's number. 

"Four's on the move," I murmured into the receiver before hanging up, my attention shifting back to the road as I subtly tailed the SUV.

Minutes ticked by, the world blurring past as I kept a safe distance and weaved through the bustling streets, the black SUV never far from my sight. Then, like clockwork, I spotted a familiar 70s Dodge and beat-up Nissan idling at the intersection ahead, and I briefly glanced to my left, catching my brother staring at me. A sudden sense of realization crept into the back of my mind. I shook my head, scoffing. Our plan was working.

Another heartbeat later, and we split off in different directions, each of us playing our part. My heart raced, fueled by adrenaline cursing through my veins when Tej's voice crackled through the radio on the passenger seat, his words slicing through the tension. 

"I know y'all said they were consolidating the money somewhere, but, y'all ain't going to believe this."

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I stood under the scorching midday sun, squinting against its relentless glare as it beat down on the streets of Rio. The heat was oppressive, mirroring the tension that hung thick in the air around us. My eyes narrowed as I caught sight of the imposing building ahead, its stone facade gleaming in the sunlight — a freaking Police Station.

The irony wasn't lost on me, and I felt a wry smirk tug at the corners of my lips. Police officers bustled in and out, seeming oblivious to the criminal activity unfolding right under their noses. I wanted to scoff at the whole situation. Hernan Reyes, the notorious drug lord, hiding his ill-gotten gains right under the nose of the law. It was audacious, I had to give him that. But it also made our job that much more difficult.

"Well," Brian muttered under his breath, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, "this job just got a lot harder."

“No kidding,” I chimed in, standing beside him and crossing my arms over my chest, my expression a mix of amusement and disbelief, “We’ll have to get even more creative.”

Rome's voice cut through the tension, his disbelief palpable. "If he's moving it into a police station, he's got some serious brass in his pocket."

"Looks like this is going to be a shorter trip than I thought," Santos said in Spanish, his tone heavy with defeat and resignation. Leo's agreement was swift and vehement, "Hell, yeah, we can't do this."

“'Can't'? You mean, 'shouldn't,'" Han’s words sliced through the conversation, drawing my attention. I turned to him, a flicker of surprise at his perspective dancing in my eyes. A small smile passed between us before I quickly turned away, squashing any flicker of conflicted emotion this man’s smile stirred within me. 

Before I could dwell on it further though, Dom's voice broke through the internal turmoil. "I say we stick to the plan."

"You say what?" Roman's incredulous voice broke the silence, injecting his trademark skepticism. His words drew my attention, and I turned to him, intrigued by his reaction. He looked at Toretto as if the man lost his mind. Couldn’t blame him.

"This just went from Mission: Impossible to Mission: In-freaking-sanity," he continued to exclaim, his frustration evident in his tone.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Brian, a small smirk playing at the corner of my lips. Roman's dramatic outburst never failed to entertain.

"Whatever, man. I ain't scared, I'm just letting you all know, going in that building is crazy," he finally declared. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away.

My brother followed his suit as he muttered, "I got this.”

Aware of the moment of silence and a whispered conversation between Leo and Santos, I stepped closer to Dom, the midday sun beating down on us, casting harsh shadows across the pavement. 

"Don't worry about him," I said, my voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Pearce is a full-time drama queen, but he'll come around. Besides, we’ve faced crazier situations than this before."

Dom nodded, his expression still serious. "Yeah, but this time we're walking into the lion's den. Reyes isn't going to make it easy for us."

I couldn't deny the truth in his words, but I had to maintain some semblance of optimism.

"True, but that's never stopped you before. You've always found a way to come out on top,” I replied, my tone firm, injecting a note of reassurance into my voice that I hoped would bolster his resolve. 

"We gotta make sure everyone's on board before we move forward,” he said, his gaze scanning the scenery ahead of us. He seemed lost in his thoughts as if this job put more pressure on him than anything ever before but he’s been like that since I’ve met him. I guessed losing the love of your life had that effect on you. 

I’ve never gotten a chance to meet Letty. It was ironic actually because my brother met up with her quite often in our apartment during her undercover work to take down Braga but I was either out with friends or working. Brian sometimes shared a few stories about her from the time when he wanted to make a detective, how he always thought that Letty had seen right through him but she never said a word. Things would’ve been different if she did. That’s why in some kind of a twisted way, I owed her. 

"Agreed," I affirmed, crossing my arms on my chest and then shrugged, following Dom’s gaze. "No biggie. Just remind them of the 11 million they're getting."

My attempt at levity didn't go unnoticed. I grinned and watched as a brief crack in his serious demeanor appeared and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Bullseye. 

It was good to loosen up a bit, especially during moments like this, so I liked to think that sometimes optimism was the best thing one could ask for in times of struggle. And I was here to provide it. 

Because God only knew how much I needed it.

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The dimly section of the warehouse cast shadows across our faces as we gathered around the table. Out of pure coincidence, I stood beside Han, my senses on high alert while the place seemed to shrink with every second that went by. I felt like I was sixteen again, having a crush on a boy who helped out in Brian’s garage part-time, only to find out he was gay and worked there to ogle my brother. Tough times. Learned my lesson, never again. 

That’s why irritation grew inside me like a parasite and the uncomfortable feeling of awkwardness washed over me as the scent of his perfume lingered in my senses and my attention was divided between the man to my right and the task at hand. His presence was like a magnetic force I couldn't ignore, even as I desperately tried to focus on Mia’s briefing.

"The beauty of public offices?” She leaned over the table, a roll-up in hand, exposing the blueprints of the Police Station we wanted to break into. I was aware of the fact of how ridiculous it sounded. “Public records."

Brian's finger jabbed at a point in the labyrinth of walls and measurements. "This is where he's keeping the money. The vault in the evidence room."

“Um. Uh, yeah. Can I get everyone's attention, right here, for a second?” Tej interjected, raising his finger. “We're talking about breaking into a police station.”

Silence fell upon us as everyone waited for him to elaborate. “Is anyone listening to those words? Anybody? Popo? Five-O. One-time. Pigs. People we don't like.”

He’s got a point.

"You know, police stations are designed to keep people in, not out,” Han spoke calmly, glancing toward Dom, who observed with a cautious and sharp gaze. I could almost see gears turning in his head like the man was coming up with a detailed plan on the spot. 

My brother nodded in agreement. "That's why it's a stealth mission. We'll be in and out before they even know we were there."

"Well, we'll need to get eyes in there,” I chimed in, already getting an idea of what we could use. Or rather who. “At least to find out the make and model of that vault."

"So the vault and then, so…” Roman muttered probably to no one specifically, seemingly lost in thought, making a sudden, weird gesture towards the papers. “It's crazy. Who's supposed to do all this?"

Without missing a beat, I exchanged a knowing glance with Brian before turning to Pearce. Another wave of silence settled between our group as the man in question looked around, bewildered by our sudden focus on him. I raised my eyebrow, waiting for him to realize what was going on. His eureka moment occurred a second later.

"What do you mean? Why me?"

"Because you got the biggest mouth,” I stated matter-of-factly as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. My smile was sweet as honey when I earned a scoff from Tej, a couple of snickers from the others, and a very offended stare-down from Rome.

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The sun cast hues of orange and pink across the sky as I stood alone on the rooftop of the warehouse, the wind whispering against my bare skin. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to relax, even if just for a second. It was moments like these that made me forget the troubles that constantly haunted me. 

Brian, Tej, and Rome had gone to the station to get an idea of what exactly we were about to encounter and it was nothing that we hadn’t expected already, so Santos and Leo had taken over to blow up a few pipes in the main bathroom. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see these two smiling like Cheshire cats when they heard what their job was. It was safe to say that I had my doubts but hey, gotta be positive, right?

Just as I began to lose myself in the beauty of the scene unfolding in front of me, my phone interrupted the moment with a sharp ding.

“There goes my peace,” I muttered to myself. Sighing, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and glanced down to see a text from an unknown number flashing on the screen. My brows furrowed and I quickly unlocked the screen, my eyes going back and forth as I read the message that immediately sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine.

Have fun in Brazil, love. I’ll see you soon.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, igniting a surge of anger and panic within me. It was like the wind got knocked out of me and my heart sank as painful memories flood back, memories I've tried so hard to bury from a time when I had been naive and desperate. I never told Brian how badly I’ve struggled after I’ve moved to London. I didn’t want him to know about that part of my life where I made mistakes that almost cost me my life.

Those first few months after my move, when I was vulnerable and alone, struggling to make ends meet and juggling between studies and two jobs, were terrifying. My brother was gone, disappeared without a trace, I was hit with the enormous amount of assignments and I was about to be evicted from my apartment.

Then I met Owen. He appeared like a savior, dazzling me with his charm, his sophistication, his extravagant gestures that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. Back then, I had been naive, craving affection and stability in a city that felt alien and hostile. 

I thought I loved him. He had swept me off my feet with his lavish dates, his expensive gifts, his promises of a life I had only ever dreamed of. And as simple as that, I had fallen. Oh, how I had fallen, head over heels, straight into his trap. I hadn't even stopped to question the sincerity of his words or the intentions behind his actions. I was too enraptured by the illusion he had crafted around me, too desperate to believe that someone like him could truly care for someone like me. Someone so insecure and scared.

I didn’t realize who he was until it was already too late. The facade had slowly begun to crack, revealing the darkness lurking beneath the surface. And then, when I finally dared to confront him, to demand the truth I had been too afraid to seek, he’d shown his true colors. The subtle manipulation, the way he always seemed to know just what to say or do to keep me ensnared in his web. I was so blinded by the illusion of love that I never stopped to question the price I was paying.

And I’ve paid a fortune. I’ve paid in tears shed in the dead of night when I thought no one was watching. In missed calls from my friends, whose concerns were silenced by Shaw, and in the gradual erosion of my self-worth, chipped away bit by bit until there was almost nothing left. It was a miracle I’ve managed to leave him, but I wouldn’t be able to if it wasn’t for Hilly and Jessie. 

Now, a fury surged through my veins. I wanted to throw my phone against the concrete floor, to scream out in frustration and defiance. But instead, I took a deep breath and forced myself to ignore the message, to push it aside like I've pushed aside so many other reminders of my past. If he was going to try and get me, I’d welcome him with open arms and a gun pointed at his head. 

With a sharp exhale, I dismissed the text, refusing to let fear consume me. The hatred I’ve felt towards Shaw had reached a level that could no longer be described with words but with actions. 

As I stared at the vanishing sun, lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly startled by the sound of footsteps approaching behind me. Instinctively, my body tensed, ready to defend myself against any potential threat. But before I could react further, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

"Quite the view, isn't it?"

Han's voice was calm and reassuring, instantly soothing the frayed edges of my nerves. Slowly, I turned to face him, my heartbeat gradually returning to its normal rhythm. He had a small smile engraved within his stoic expression.

I nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, it is."

"Brian sent me up here to find you,” he said and stepped closer, his presence comforting yet electrifying all at once as he stood next to me. “They're looking for you,"

Sorry. My crazy ex just texted me and almost scared the shit out of me. I felt like that would’ve been a conversation breaker, so instead, I sighed, tearing my gaze away from the horizon with a pang of guilt for disappearing without a word. Should’ve told someone I was coming here. "Well, you found me."

My gaze caught with his as his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. There was a brief silence between us, but it was not uncomfortable. Instead, it was filled with an unspoken understanding, a sense that Han saw right through the walls I've built around myself, and at that moment, I couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at me. 

I felt exposed under his scrutiny. It was as if he saw through the facade I'd carefully crafted, glimpsing the turmoil that lay beneath. Panic threatened to claw its way back into my chest, but I pushed it down, refusing to let it surface.

Swallowing the bitter taste that formed in my mouth, I decided to break the silence, my voice steady. "I just needed a moment alone.”

"I get it," he replied simply, his tone gentle yet reassuring. His dark eyes met mine, and a shiver ran down my spine. But beneath the surface, there was a tension, a hesitation that I couldn’t quite shake. This was dangerous. This… This whole situation was a disaster waiting to unfold and I couldn’t afford to let myself get too close. I burned myself once and I got a reminder of the consequences not that long ago. Fear gripped me tightly, twisting my insides into knots as I tried to suppress the memories of my past but I wasn’t brave enough to do so.

Instinctively, I step back, creating a safe distance between us. It's not that I didn’t trust Han, despite meeting him only a few days ago. I didn’t trust myself and there was something about our connection that both enticed and terrified me. 

God, I was a mess, wasn’t I?

"Come on," Han's voice interrupted my tumultuous thoughts, breaking the spell that bound us in this moment of uncertainty. "Let's head back down."

I nodded silently, torn between the urge to flee and the longing to stay. But as I took a step forward to walk past him into the warehouse, heading towards the stairwell, I fought to ignore the ache that spread in my chest.

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series masterlist

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #86: Percy Jackson, but make it Time Travel

I was minding my own business at work this morning when a terrible, awful, wonderful idea for a PJO time travel fix-it hit me out of the blue.

Or: What if a deified Percy was sent back to the start of canon?

aka the In Another Life fic

Just imagine it:

Percy wakes screaming, which is immediately disconcerting as he's not slept in nearly 100 years. He summons a storm practically out of reflex, still caught up in the horrors of everything he just left behind, and promptly passes out, his 12 year old body not used to the strain.

-because he is twelve again - mortal again, - in his bed at Yancy Academy again, a week out from the field trip that will change his life.

Not that Percy realizes this straight off, what with the panic and the passing out, though he does pick it up fairly quickly once he wakes up again in the school infirmary. This nearly sends him into another tailspin of panic - (he is small, he is weak, he is alone in his head, one hundred years in the past, and can barely feel any of his domains) - before Percy manages to get himself under control enough to come up with the basics of a plan: get somewhere safe so he can start figuring out what the Hades is going on.

Percy manages to sneak out of the infirmary while everyone else is at dinner, hails the Chariot of Damnation even though he's way out of their normal service area ("We'll put it on your tab, dearie," the seeresses say, "we know you're good for it."), and arrives at Camp Half-Blood just after midnight.

His entrance is much less spectacular than it was originally, but no less startling for all Mr D is the only one awake to see it, for the moment Percy crosses the ward lines the magic begins to recognize him as the future Camp Director - which in turn startles Dionysus just enough that he doesn't immediately smite Percy when he practically throws himself at the god and starts going on about how pleased he is to see him.

The truth comes out in fits and starts, with Percy's exhaustion (and Dionysus' gifts) being the only thing keeping him from another panic attack. His story boils down to this:

Percy has always been a powerful demigod, perhaps the most powerful child of his father ever to be born to a mortal. His actions from his first quest onward only pushed him closer to the brink of immortality. Divinity did not come until several months after the events of ToA, when a camper had jokingly raised a glass to Perseus Jackson, Trainer of Heroes, which was all that was needed to push him over that final precipice.

As Lord Perseus, he was from the onset more powerful than most minor gods, his domains being the eclectic mix of Heroes, Natural Disasters, and Misery - the first earning him the permanent position of Director of Camp Half-Blood and Patron of Camp Jupiter, the second keeping him quite busy in an era of climate change, and the last having been unwittingly stolen years before from Akhlys in Tartarus. It is this power that causes Zeus to become even more paranoid.

-which is saying something, as his paranoia had already skyrocketed to new and greater heights after Apollo returned improved from the events of ToA.

It grows worse over the better part of the next century, with the Titan War, Giant War, Triumvirate, and all that follows eventually disabusing the majority of the gods that Zeus will never be an effective ruler. Apollo leads a rebellion against his father - and would have succeeded, had not Zeus not managed to somehow push Apollo directly into Chaos as Apollo was preparing for his final blow, which has the unfortunate effect of the universe trying to unwrite one of the most important gods from the history of Western Civilization and undoes the fabric of reality in the process. Percy was watching it unravel before his eyes (desperately, desperately trying to weave it back together but it won't hold) when he suddenly found himself screaming 100 years in the past.

It is a fantastical story, but Dionysus has no choice to believe it.

("But why did you come to me? Why not your father?" Percy looks down, running a finger along the grain of of the wooden table, "We became friends in the future. Misery and alcohol, you know? One of the oldest pairings in the book." There's more, Dionysus can tell, but the boy is already flagging, unused to the weaknesses of his childish mortal body. It can wait.)

The events of canon proceed apace - or at least as much as they can when Percy shows up at camp almost two months early knowing more about the Greek and Roman pantheon than anyone who hasn't lived through it, with the attitude of a hero who's been through Tartarus and the power levels of a minor god burning him up from the inside. All while sneaking off in his spare time to 1) plot to stop the end of the world with Dionysus and 2) hang out with Dionysus, because he is one hundred twelve, thank you very much, and needs adult company every now and then, for all he’s missed his long dead friends.

I actually have no idea how the events of the books themselves would play out - Percy has neither the patience or the ability to let everything play out exactly as before, but the major beats of PJO still take place, with Percy doing his best to undermine the arguments that drew so many to Kronos as he can while still mortal. (Advocating for cabins for minor gods and/or undetermined, or combined housing with temples. Gods being forced to claim their children when they arrive at camp, etc.)

Perhaps Kronos tries harder to sway Percy to his side once he sees how strong a demigod he is, showing his hand too soon and causing the Titan War to be an all out war from the start of TTC until the Battle of Manhattan? Percy is more than just a child solider - he is a seasoned teenage general, directing battles, saving many with is experience but still loosing too many; a one-man army who eventually ascends on his sixteenth birthday, Luke's misery as he kills himself being the last push Percy needs to reclaim his divinity and his domains.

Gaining his godhood early allows Percy to temper the events of HOO and TOA (the Giant War still happens, but a generation later with a different set of demigods, and allows Zeus to redeem himself somewhat by being an effective war leader; Apollo never becomes mortal but the Triumvirate is destroyed a generation after that), if not prevent them. Though a part of him will always long for his mortality, it was never in the cards. It was either godhood or an early death, and Percy would rather spend an eternity protecting demigods and giving them the training they need to protect themselves than the alternative.

And so that's what Percy Jackson does, because that's what he's always done: accept as much misery for himself to make the lives of those he loves as misery-free as possible.

Bonuses include:

No hint of Percy/Annabeth in the new timeline, with the pair in the original having broken up shortly before Percy's ascension, having realize their codependency was not healthy, nor was it actually romantic love. From 100 years on, Percy is critical of his first relationship, but still counts Annabeth as one of his best friends, even if they're not as close in this timeline.

Although never widely disseminated, several individuals come to learn of Percy's trip through time and the circumstances that lead to it. (Poseidon, Sally, Thalia). A few others suspect Percy has some level of prophetic gift to go along with his other powers. But for the most part no one has any idea Percy is anything other than a powerful demigod with some really bad luck; and

It eventually coming out that Percy and Dionysus had a thing in the future, with Percy over the course of 100 years coming to like, respect, and eventually love the God of Wine. Percy is absolutely convinced it was entirely one-sided, their thing only adding up to a few drunken fucks between friends (because that's what Dionysus does with his friends), but Dionysus after he learns of it not being so sure (because it's really not what he does with friends and hasn't been for millennia). Whatever the case, it is exceptionally awkward when it comes out, especially as Percy's only physically 14 at the time, and attempting to resolve this awkwardness is how Thalia ends up learning about the time travel.

Extra bonus points if Percy and Ariadne were decent friends in the original timeline, become decent friends again in the new one, and settle into a polyamorous relationship with Dionysus (after Percy is deified and comes of age) that has Hera spitting teeth for decades.

And that is far, far more than I'd ever thought I'd have, but I think this plot bun somehow merged with a thread of an idea for a Dionysus-positive fic that's been tickling at me for years now. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[blueflamehellfire]

If Not For You (Hellcheer) pt 1

Eddie Munson hadn’t left Hawkins like he always planned, instead he went to a trade school after ‘86 and got his ASE certification. He found a small shop that was abandoned, paid the property taxes, and opened his business. He quickly became the best mechanic in Hawkins and thanks to his uncle managing the books he has been able to focus on fixing the cars.

However things weren't going smoothly due to Eddie having to make the appointments, leave time for walk-ins, etc. He needed help on that front so over dinner at Benny’s he asks about Wayne possibly hiring a person to make appointments. Wayne says of course and a few days later he calls Eddie into the office.

“The new hire is coming in soon. She’s a single mother and needs to bring her daughter with her for now. I set up a playpen for the girl.” Wayne says motioning to the corner behind the desk. “I expect you to be nice Eddie Munson.” he says firmly. “Wayne, I'm not going to ruin my business by being a jerk to whoever it is you hired.” He says sighing as he pours him some more coffee into his cup, “How old is the kid? I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s 2. I’ve explained to her mom that she’ll need to keep her with her or in the playpen.” Wayne says and Eddie nods. “You have a customer.” He says pointing to the burgundy 1983 BMW 733i that just pulled in causing Eddie to take one final drink and set it down before walking out. Eddie is busy talking to none other than Steve Harrington to notice Chrissy walking into his shop with a blonde toddler on her hip and a baby bag on her shoulder.

“Wayne, I need to order a new camshaft for the Bmw 733i.” Eddie calls as he walks through the door stopping short when he sees Chrissy behind their little desk on the phone with a client writing something in a notebook and then she hangs up.

“Hey, Eddie.” She says nervously, “Your uncle hired me.. I hope that’s not a problem.” She nervously played with the hem of her skirt.

“It’s ok.” He says giving her a small smile before walking over and taking the phone dialing a number. He gets the part ordered and has Chrissy write down when it’ll be in. He hangs up and looks at her, “If you can stay a bit later I’ll tell you what I need you to do around here.” 

She nods, “I can stay later. It’s just me and Beth now so I don’t have any reason I can’t stay.” She says quietly and Eddie nods.

“Ok thank you.” he says before leaving back to the garage part of the shop. He explains that it’ll be a few days and that Steve is welcome to use the phone in the shop to call someone to pick him up. Then his appointment arrived so he parked the BMW and hung the keys up.

It’s 6 hours later when Eddie closes up shop and walks into the office as the last customer was leaving. He has oil and grease on him from the cars, but he looks happier than he ever had in school. Chrissy iss swaying side to side with her daughter who looked like she had just got done crying.

He washes up and sighs, “I’m hungry. Are you guys?” He asks, looking at Wayne and Chrissy. Wayne nods, but Chrissy shakes her head.

“I don’t have extra cash for anything but essentials.” she explains and both men look at her then each other.

“My treat.” Wayne says, straightening up and grabbing his keys. “Come on we’ll get Benny’s.” He says and Eddie hums with a nod.

“You really don’t have to feed me. I can make something at home. It’s no problem.” she argues and Wayne looks at her with a small smile.

“Miss Cunningham, you’re a part of us now so we’ll take care of you as we would each other.” he says and pats her shoulder “You’re not a problem at all.”

Chrissy nods and grabs her diaper bag following Wayne out of the shop leaving Eddie to lock everything up. He had just bought Wayne a new truck since his truck had crapped out on him. Eddie opened the door for Chrissy who crawled in and buckled her and her daughter in with a soft thank you.

Eddie climbed in the front and looked at Wayne, “Let’s stop by the general store really quick.” He says and he turns down the radio.

“So what are you going to need from me?” Chrissy asks nervously as she holds the little girl’s hands.

“I’m sure Uncle Wayne explained most of it, but I need you to make appointments and order parts.” He says looking at her. “You’ll handle the money and I’ll need to make you a cheat sheet for what are problems and what questions to ask the people who call in.” He says making a list of things he needed to do, causing his uncle to laugh slightly at his nephew’s antics.

“Eddie slow down a little bit. It was her first day, there's no need to cram everything into one day.” Wayne says after he caught the panicked look on Chrissy’s face.

“Right. I’m sorry. The second half was more for me, not you.” He says twisting to look at her again. He studied her face a moment before humming, “What’s your little girl’s name?” 

“Elizabeth.” She says quietly and smiles at her. “She’s two and my whole world.” Chrissy says it proudly as if being 21 with a 2 year old was the best thing to happen to her.

“I see. She’s adorable. She looks like you.” He says reaching back to offer his hand to the little girl who just stared at him with big blue eyes. He laughs and pulls his hand back as they get to the general store.

Everyone in town knew who the father was; The Cunninghams and the Carvers made a huge deal out of their families merging and becoming one when Chrissy and Jason got married in September of ‘86 when they were just 19. Eddie, being 2 years older, couldn’t imagine being married with a kid at 19 let alone now.

“Chrissy, can you come in with me?” Eddie asks as he gets out of the truck. He helps her out and Wayne comes around to take Elizabeth promising to take care of her.

Chrissy nods and follows Eddie in, “What did we stop here for?” she asks, looking up at the curly haired man. “Well if we’re going to be feeding you and Elizabeth at the weekly business dinner then we’ll need to get a carseat for the truck. I also want to get some things to keep at the office in case you run out.” He says looking at her.

“I plan on getting a babysitter once I have a steady income. I just need to bring her for a little bit.” She says looking down. “I just have to find someone who would be willing to do it.”

“Why don’t you try Steve Harrington? A friend of mine says he’s great with kids. I could talk to him for you. I know he’s in between jobs right now.” Eddie says looking at the car seats he looks so lost as he reads about the features and safety things. He picks out one that sounds really good and looks at Chrissy in question. “That’s really expensive, Eddie. We can get a cheaper one.” She says, sounding like she’s panicking a little bit. It’s obvious she’s already thinking of how to pay him back.

“Hey don’t worry about paying me back. I want to make sure the little one is safe and has what she needs.” He then turns red, “Not that you’re not doing a good job. I just remember my mom and uncle telling me that sometimes you can have everything you think you need and then something happens and you need something else that you don’t have.”

Chrissy nods slowly, “Ok…you don’t have too though. I know you need office space for the business.” “We have a closet that holds the coffee, filters, snacks, and personal things. We can just put her stuff there.” He says smiling softly. So they spend a good 20 minutes making sure to get Elizabeth everything that Chrissy may need while at work including fruits and veggie snacks.

Once they are done and back at the truck Eddie installs the car seat properly and smiles, “There we go.” he says and takes Elizabeth and sits her in the car seat buckling her in with a big smile and puffing his cheeks out. The little girl giggles and grabs a handful of his hair causing Eddie to squawk and grab her little hand gently. “Gotta let go of my hair, pretty girl.” he says as Chrissy works to untangle her hand from his curls.

She finally got it undone and the girl starts whining so Eddie smiles, “How about I sit back here by you?” he asks looking at Chrissy for her ok. Once she nodded he climbed in and sat by Elizabeth entertaining her while they drove to Benny’s and then they took Chrissy and the baby back to her house bidding her good night.

[pitifulbaby]

kiss-a-thon

summary: a mixtape and some kisses can fix anyone's day.

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: you might need to see a dentist after with all this tooth rotting fluff.

a/n: okay so the wonderful @thefreak0fhawkinshigh​ made this post and I just had to write it with their permission first of course. but i hope you enjoy it! also bc i said so the upside down and all that doesn’t exist. 2.1k words

THE MIXTAPE ignore how some of the songs came out after 86′

You never thought that the last few months of your senior year would be like this, sure you knew it would be haywire- but not like this. Most days were fine, from waking up early to finals and tests throughout the school day to rushing out of school to your part time job at the local grocery store, getting home to scramble and do homework before passing out- though now that you think it doesn’t sound fine. It sounds hectic. How you manage to take time to breathe between any of it is beyond you. When you can, you also help your boyfriend Eddie study, he deserves to graduate this year- and he wants to, but whereas your life in a sense is nonstop, his brain is the same way. It’s obvious he has a hard time concentrating on things he doesn’t enjoy which is understandable, but with your patience and his will- Eddie Munson was graduating in 86’. 

The day was long, but luckily you were free from work for the day. Though you knew you had a break, it still was obvious that you were in need of a rest. It wasn’t that you were tired- perse, you were just worn down and in need of sitting and doing something you enjoyed. Eddie had noticed your sluggish attitude, you two shared a few classes, but what sealed the deal was you not sitting with him and the hellfire club at lunch, opting for sitting in the library to finish up some things, wanting some quiet instead of a highschool lunchroom. Time got away from Eddie- he was planning on cutting his lunch short to go sit with you in the library, wanting to give you some time alone before he would venture off to you. But the boys had questions, one after another and soon enough the bell rang, showcasing the end of the lunch period. 

Seemingly the rest of the day seemed to go by fast, and Eddie had a plan. He typically brought you to and fro from school- truthfully, Eddie tried to drive you anywhere and everywhere you needed to go. It wasn’t even that you couldn’t drive, no, you had your licenses and a car. But Eddie had to drive you around, he enjoyed even the short time with you in the car. He was gonna take every chance to be with you, even if it was a five minute car ride. 

With one final bell ring, the school day ended. Even better it was a Friday, the weekend finally in sight and in grasp. Standing at your locker you put away the books you didn’t need and took the ones you did need, before you could grab the last book you felt a hand on your lower back- letting out a soft gasp as you turn your head.

“Hey, it’s me-” Eddie’s hand runs up your back and rests at the back of your neck, smiling at you. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Which it was odd to him, it wasn’t hard to hear Eddie when he was walking. With his chains and big boots, plus knowing him for quite a long time, you are able to pick up the sound of him by his walking. And even through the busy halls, through the sounds of people chattering about the weekend and trying as fast as possible to get out, you usually can hear him. He simply hums in response, watching you close your locker. Before you can do anything else Eddie is zipping up your backpack and taking it from your hands, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. “I have an idea, sweetgirl.” He leaned down to whisper to you, with furrowed brows you turned your head a tad to look at him.

“Should I be nervous?” You questioned him, which he only responded with moving his arm from around your shoulders to around your waist- pinching you over your shirt ever so softly. “Hey!” You couldn't help but giggle, which made Eddie’s heart soar at the sound. Stepping outside of the school’s front door and down through the parking lot you two were finally at Eddie’s van.

Eddie Munson’s van was a sight to behold, the 71’ Chevrolet was one of the males prized possessions. It had been his uncles in the early 80s before letting his nephew have it when he got his permit. Ever since then the metal head treated it like it was his baby- sure he was a bit rough with it, it really wasn’t his fault that he sped, the music he listens to shouldn't be so damn easy to speed to! To others it was just a rusted tin can, but it was something special to him.

He brings you round to the passenger side, opening the door for you and holding out his hand to help you up, bowing his head. “Your chariot awaits, princess.” He purred, which caused you to laugh and blush at his antics, taking his hand and stepping in. Once you were seated in he was leaning over you to fasten your seatbelt- pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door and running to the drivers side and hopping in. “Whats the plan?” You said, turning your body to him.

He simply hummed in response, starting the car. His hand went to the back of your headrest, looking behind as he pulled out. It might be weird but there was something so attractive when he did that, watching his hair fall in his face, trailing your eyes up his arm. But the moment was over soon and he was driving off. 

“Were you checking me out?” Eddie drawled out, letting his voice be a bit more high pitched. He kept one hand on the wheel while the other came and rested on your thigh. Your skirt rode up a bit, his hand warm but his rings cold, giving an odd contrast. Placing your hand on his with a smile. “Always,” You promise, letting your gaze shift out the window. 

Now Eddie was a man who drove a bit recklessly, enjoying to have his window down and music blasting as he ventured off wherever. But with you he was more careful, he had precious cargo so he wasn’t gonna risk anything.

With furrowed brows you realize he completely ignored your question, turning to him with a small pout. “You didn’t tell me what the plan is, Teddy.” You mumble out, playing with the rings on his fingers. His hand gently squeezes your thigh, “Its a surprise.” His reply is plain and simple, gaze focused on the road.

A few turns, stoplights and stop signs and you are pulling off into a clearing that takes you through the woods before he is parking with the back of the van facing out to lovers lake. “Hop in the back.” He says while turning to you, reaching over and undoing your seatbelt. His smile is wide as he watches you climb into the back, placing a small smack to your bottom as you climb over the console into the back of the van. 

In the back of Eddie’s van was a mattress, a couple pillows and a blanket or two. He also had an amp and some wires for when he would play at The Hideout. Once in the back you plopped back onto the mattress, leaning your back against the side of the van as you looked toward the front of the van. You watch as Eddie fumbles with the radio, popping in what you assume is one of the many mixtapes he has made for you. But, the song that plays through the van’s speakers is one you haven’t heard in any of the cassettes. 

Seconds later the sound of a saxophone is coming from the speakers, the voice of George Michael following the instrument as Careless Whispers plays. The song itself causes a laugh to bubble out, but your laughter only grows as Eddie is stumbling over the console just like you moments before- only he is less graceful than you were. Literally stumbling and fumbling onto the mattress. He is then scrambling onto his knees, reaching forward to you and resting his hands under your knees and pulling you forward to him. Sending you to lay back flat against the mattress. His hands move from your legs to rest on either side of your head, his body resting between your thighs. 

“Wanna know the plan now?” He questions, his words soft. If he wasn’t so close you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the saxophone. Your own hands trail up, gently brushing through his curls that fall into your face. “Hm?” You question, already lost in the boy. Eddie move to rest on his elbows, the front of his thighs pressing against the back of yours, your skirt having flipped up during this all.

“I am gonna kiss you, a lot.” Before you could even respond to him, his plush lips are pressing against yours. The faint taste of cigarettes linger on his mouth, but its a taste you have come to enjoy because it is whole heartedly Eddie. 

The shirt you wore had rode up as well, the blanket against your back scratching your skin ever so slightly against the material. One hand stays locked in his hair while the other trails down to rest against his chest. Your hand gravitates to the guitar pick necklace he always wore, feeling it dangle down against you- letting your fingers gently mess with the jewelry. Eddie keeps one arm propping him up, his other arm moving to wrap around your waist, his hand splayed against the small of your back and pulls your body closer to his, though he was already pressed flush against you.

He never lets up his kissing, the kiss started out sweet before turning into something more, gently nibbling your bottom lip and fighting for dominance against you in a war you were glad to lose. You could feel the need for oxygen become strong, but the thought of pulling away from the kiss sounded like a nightmare, you never wanted to be away from Eddie- especially when he was kissing you like this.

But he seemed to have other plans, pulling away slightly only to start to trail kisses down, starting from the corner of your mouth, to the underside of your jaw before attaching himself to your neck. He found your sweet spot quickly, he knew your body like the back of his hand. Feeling him start to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin causing you to gasp, back arching and hand pulling at the strands of hair you were holding. The pull wasn’t hard, but enough to pull him away from your skin. He looks up at you with a small pout, lips red and kiss swollen. 

“You said you were gonna kiss me a lot.” You said with a huff, brows furrowing as you tilted your chin down to look at him. The way you look at Eddie has his heart soaring for a second time today, “I know, but I didn’t say where.” He says in the same tone as you, copying your huff and furrowed brows. After that he was back to leaving kisses across your throat, leaving blossoms of purple and blues in his wake as he left his mark. 

Careless Whispers finishes, the song soon changing to Rock You Like a Hurricane. You open your mouth to question Eddie, letting out a shuddery breath before trying to catch your composure. “I haven’t heard these two in any of the tapes.” You manage to mumble out, eyes fluttering shut.

He pulls away at your words, shifting to hover over you. “Made a new mixtape for you last night.” Eddie smiles through his words, pride lacing each syllable. “And before you lecture me about not getting any sleep-” he pinches your thigh mid sentence, causing you to squeal and open your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

It wasn’t that you lectured Eddie, you just told him often you think it would do him good to get a decent night's rest, going to bed at a good hour. “So I made this mix, and its titled the ‘kiss-a-thon’ mix.” His nose scrunches up after his words, cheeks more red than usual as he blushes. “Probably a stupid name-” He trails off, which you quickly shake your head. “No! It’s not stupid, Teddy. I love it.” Your smile is bright, eyes wide and happy as you look at him. 

“Yeah?” He questions, a little unsure. You nod, before furrowing your brows a bit, letting out a hum. “Though I might have a better name for it.” Your smile widens, more devious this time. Eddie catches on to that, a look of fake surprise on his face. “Oh? And whats that?”

“The kiss-a-thon mix that might lead to more.” And with that, you are crashing your lips back to his.

[goldenseresinretriever]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Chapter 2

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“Bradley Bradshaw, #86, five-minute major for fighting.” You let out an audible groan as you watch the ref lead Bradley off the ice into the penalty box. Bugs gives you a pained smile as she nudges your shoulder with hers even as you can feel the rage radiating from Cyclone. Bradley’s got drying blood in his mustache from where he took a retaliatory hit from the Florida player after practically throwing him into the boards. Bradley’s been avoiding you the tiff in your office. Clearly, he hasn’t spent the time considering your words since he’s taken the first opportunity possible to ignore your advice. When the line changes you make eye contact with Jake as he swings over the boards, grabbing his water bottle. You watch as he takes a drink, his mouth set in a thin line that has nothing to do with the current 5-2 score in the Dogfighters’s favor, and everything to do with his alternate captain.

You know this has to be hard on Jake too. Even though he was spared Cyclone’s screaming session the other day, you could tell he was aware of the problems and risks that Bradley was presenting. Jake’s the team captain and Bradley is one of his guys, which makes him his responsibility. The biggest problem, however, is that Bradley had been partially right when you argued the other day. Hockey’s a contact sport and fighting is a part of the rules as well as the culture, and it’s hard to argue with the results given that Bradley is currently the third-highest goal scorer on the team.

After finishing his drink, Jake turns on the bench to face you and Bugs, his green eyes hard. “We need to talk.” You and Bugs give him firm nods before he turns back to the game. It seems Cyclone is too busy glaring daggers at the penalty box to notice your exchange. You sigh, as you realize just how much longer your night has gotten.

~~~~~

You just manage to wedge your tiny Bug in the driveway next to Javy’s Landrover. The way he’s parked is the equivalent of manspreading across the space that could easily hold two or maybe even three cars on a good day. You growl in frustration as you do your damnedest not to slam the door in frustration as you get out to survey his handiwork. Your car is a pastel pink convertible bug and it looks comical parked next to the giant SUV, but you sigh and lock it before heading up the short walk to Jake’s front door. The seaside home with beach access was tucked cozily into a sleepy suburban neighborhood. It's not what you’d expect from a bachelor NHL player but the more you’ve gotten to know Jake, the more it makes sense. The main is painfully domestic. This is affirmed by the sight you’re treated to when you open the door that’s been left open in anticipation of your arrival. Jake is at the stove, making pancakes despite the fact that the sun has long since set outside. Bugs and Javy are seated across the counter from him, already digging into their plates.

“Hey, Zam! Thanks for coming!” Jake calls, offering you a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Congrats on the win!” You answer, dragging a chair from the dining room up next to the counter since there are only two stools. Bugs elbows Javy and he offers you his stool, taking the chair instead and somehow still looking comfortable at the raised countertop. You give Bugs an appreciative look before sliding Javy’s plate over to him and taking a seat.

You fix Jake with a look. “So, what are we going to do about Bradshaw, because I know Cyclone is just ITCHING to fire me over it.” Bugs stiffens next to you and you turn to look at her bewildered expression.

“He can’t fire YOU because of BRADLEY’S behavior! How is that even your fault?!”

“His behavior isn’t, but how the press spins it? That absolutely is. Sports outlets are calling him dangerous and a loose canon. It’s reflecting poorly on the team, not to mention Dare’s and Mav’s leadership, and of course Cyclone’s management.” You shrug as Jake hands you a plate piled high with pancakes.

“You’re not his babysitter though!” She exclaims and you swallow a mouthful of pancake, gesturing at Jake.

“Correct, that’s your man’s problem.” Jake scowls as he flips a pancake. You just raise an eyebrow at him and he growls.

“Look I’ll talk to him first thing tomorrow, alright?”

“Fhank hou!” You chirp brightly through a mouthful of pancake and he rolls his eyes. “Love you, Jake!” You flash a hand heart at him as you go for another bite.

“Love you too, Zam,” he says with a rueful smile and Bugs giggles next to you.

“What about me?” You turn to Javy, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“What about you?”

“Do you love me?” He grins wolfishly at you.

“Well now, Javy, I know better than to love you, I’m not trying to catch anything.” You say dryly.

“Like feelings?” He waggles his eyebrows at you.

“Like chlamydia.” You respond coldly and Bugs chokes on her pancakes beside you as Jake bellows a laugh.

~~~~~

The next morning you’re already elbow-deep in damage control over Bradley’s behavior last night which ended with him getting raucously drunk at a dive bar, when Mickey comes into your office, wordlessly placing a pink can of Monster on your desk. Your hands are instantly off the keyboard and wrapped possessively around the can as you grasp it tightly, cracking the tab in record time to take a long sip.

“Marry me,” you groan as you come up for air.

He laughs, shaking his head. “I told you Zam, if I still haven’t found a trophy wife by the age of forty, the job’s yours.”

“Jokes on you, Mickey, you’d rather be a trophy husband than have a trophy wife.”

“What can I say? I’m a feminist at heart.” You snort, ignoring the way the carbonation burns your nose as he grins, tossing himself into the chair across from your desk.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” You ask with no bite, a matching grin gracing your lips as you turn back to the email you’re sending, occasionally bringing the pink can to your lips. He shrugs, settling further into the chair.

“We’re doing individual conditioning for the rest of the morning, I needed a break.” You nod, typing away at your keyboard. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you finish the email and finally turn back to him.

“Mick, I need a favor.” You slump, resting your cheek against the cool surface of your desk, regarding your best friend’s sideways face.

“Anything,” he says without hesitation.

“What’s the deal with Bradley?” You watch the storm clouds gather over his normally sunny disposition. Despite the tension that now lingers in his slumped form, his voice is light as he says, “No idea.” He shakes his head and you can see his jaw tightens. “That’s just the thing? He’s quiet, kind of a loner, but perfectly nice to everyone on the team. He doesn’t argue with anyone, hell, not even Javy!” He shoves an irritated hand through his hair, his eyes darting around as the tension in his shoulders seeps into his actions.

“So you have no idea why he’s acting out? He was never like this with the Flyers. All the research I’ve done indicates not a single incident that would explain his behavior, I’m drawing a blank here, and you know I never draw blanks when it comes to this stuff.” You’re about to turn and press your forehead against the desk next but you catch the flit of Mickey’s eyes and sit up instead, leaning across the desk to point an accusatory finger at him.

“You know something!” He grimaces and shakes his head but you shake yours back indignantly. “Mickey Garcia, I know you and you know something!” He shakes his head again, lips sealed and you let out a groan of frustration before you purse your lips tightly, sitting back, folding into yourself a little. “Mickey, my job depends on this, please.” Your voice is quieter now, vulnerable, and you hate being vulnerable but Mickey’s seen you at your lowest. He’s earned the right to see you like this.

He sighs, letting the tension run out of his body as he faces you. “Look, this isn’t anything, really, just something I’ve observed,”

“Mickey, I’ll take anything at this point.” He nods slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I think there’s something going on between him and Mav.” He says slowly and you perk up at that.

“Him and Mav?” Mickey nods.

“Whenever Maverick corrects him or even just tries to suggest something to him, he gets standoffish and weird. I’ve noticed it a couple of times and I don’t know, it could just be a coincidence but he’s not like that with Dare.” He studies his hands as you turn this new information over in your head. “You seem to think that’s something.” He states when you haven’t said anything in a few minutes as you wrestle silently.

“Mav is Bradley’s godfather.” You say, finally. You need another head to help you think this out. You watch Mickey’s eyes widen as he absorbs the new information.

“Fuck, really?” You nod. “You think there’s something going on between them?” You shrug, shaking your head in confusion.

“That’s just the thing though? Maverick specifically asked to trade for Bradley when we were building and negotiating the roster.”

“Damn,” Mickey sits back, rubbing his jaw at the influx of new information.

“I’ll say.” You mutter and the two of you sit in silence a while longer, mulling over the mystery before you until Mickey finally has to leave you with your thoughts and caffeine.

~~~~~

A few nights later you’re wrapping things up after yet another late night. The arena is empty as you make your way to the parking garage, looking forward to going home and putting your feet up while some mindless TV show plays in the background. Of course, that’s not happening as you receive a series of text messages from the last person you want to hear from right now. Well, it’s not a message so much as an order. The first message is a link to a TMZ article posted thirty seconds ago. It’s chronicling the latest in Bradley’s drunken escapades at a dive bar not far from here. The second message makes you audibly groan. “Get him out of there. NOW.” You have half a mind to call Jake and tell him he’s up for babysitting duty but you know that’ll just cause more problems than it will solve. You’d rather leave him and Bugs out of Cyclone’s line of fire. They’ve suffered enough.

You groan again, listening to it bounce off the concrete walls back to you as you lean your head on the cool metal of your car, mourning the loss of your quiet night in. You’re hardly dressed for the bar in your pink suit but at least if the paparazzi are still hanging around they’ll recognize you immediately and back off. Resigned to your fate, you get into your car and put the name of the bar into the navigation.

~~~~~

You pull into the parking lot, glaring at the mass of cameras and reporters lining up outside the building waiting for their prey. Your instinct had been right and as much as you wish you were at home right now, you have to thank Cyclone for calling you. This had the potential to be a dumpster fire if Bradley was left to his own drunken devices. You catch sight of Bradley’s obnoxiously bright blue Ford Bronco in the parking lot and you make a mental note to suggest that he find a less conspicuous mode of transportation if he’s going to insist on self-destructing in public. You take a moment to breathe and check that your ponytail is still flawless as you exit the vehicle, locking it behind you before squaring your shoulders and marching up to the pavement in front of the dive bar, right in front of the cameras.

“Alright people, let’s move, show’s over.” You scan the crowd that’s making no effort to clear out whatsoever. “Anthony! Andrea! Mason! Let’s GO!” You clap your hands once, the crack of skin on skin deafening on the street. You notice the three paparazzi you’d just called out by name start to squirm uncomfortably. It pays to know the enemy by name, they respond much better to threats that way. “Nathan! Louise! Gary! I can do this all night and still have time to call your lawyers the minute the clock strikes nine, let’s get a move on, shall we?” That works and you see the crowd start to move.

You wait, hands on your hips until the last of them disappears into the balmy San Diego night before hauling open the door to the dive bar that’s been painted black to keep out the light and coincidentally also the cameras. The bar is cast in red light from the numerous neon signs that litter the walls advertising various beer brands. Your eyes adjust to the light as your ears sort through the music crackling out of the jukebox in a corner, the murmured conversation of regular customers, and finally settle on the raised voices in the back of the bar. The sound of skin hitting skin swallows up the sound of your heels peeling off the sticky floor as you get closer to the commotion. Bradley’s standing at a pool table, the cue stick looking almost comically small in his huge hands. His shoulders are tense as is his jaw. There’s the beginning of a bruise coloring the edge of said jaw and his lip is split, dried blood smeared on his chin. His eyes are hazy and unfocused from the alcohol he’s clearly been consuming. There are three guys surrounding him who look worse for wear even as they leer at the much larger man.

“Alright boys, we’re done here.” You snip, hands on your hips as the three guys turn to face you. You watch Bradley’s head turn to unsuccessfully focus on you.

“And who do you think you are, Missy?” One of the guys scoffs as he gives you a once-over.

“His PR rep, so unless you’d like this to get a whole lot uglier in the legal department, I’d get out of here if I were you.” You watch their eyes widen in surprise even if some of them look suspicious. “Bradshaw, let’s go.” You jerk your chin at Bradley, but he shakes his head.

“Fuck off, Honey, this isn’t your business.” Bradley glared at you and you could have laughed if you weren’t so pissed off. “Come on boys, let’s finish this.” The men look warily between the two of you and slowly start to back off, clearly taking your threat of legal action seriously. Bradley, however, is having none of this and you move into his path before you can think it through. Bradley’s fist that’s aiming for the man closest to him collides with your jaw and you go down hard, spared from a sticky collision with the floor by the man Bradley was aiming for. Your head is spinning with the force of the blow and you’re very aware of why Bradley’s defenseman because there’s some serious force behind his punch even inebriated. The older man who caught you helps you stand shakily and you blink to try and clear your vision as he asks if you’re alright. You manage a nod, waving him off as you straighten, glaring at Bradley who’s staring at you, bewildered.

“BRADSHAW. OUTSIDE. NOW.” Thankfully, he’s smart enough to drop the pool cue and start heading towards the exit. You march after him, still shaken up from the hit that’s definitely going to leave a nasty bruise. You make a stop at the bar, stopping Bradley from getting too far with a death grip on his bicep that’s too large for its own good. You close out his tab and the bartender gives you a sympathetic look that tells you she’d been watching your little altercation as she passes you a ziploc of ice and points you two towards a side exit and you give her a tired thanks before dragging Bradley behind you. The night air is as sticky as the floor of that bar and you grimace as stray hairs stick to your jaw that’s damp from the makeshift ice pack you’re cradling to it with one hand while you drag Bradley towards your car with the other. You pin the ice pack between your shoulder and chin while you fish your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the car and practically throwing Bradley at the passenger side. “Get in, Bradshaw, and if you throw up in my car I swear to god I’ll kill you myself.” Bradley drapes himself over the top of the car and if you weren’t so damn tired you’d muster up the energy to laugh at how easily he covers the width of it, the man truly is huge.

“There’s no way I’m gonna fit.” You suppress a groan at Bradley’s words.

“Shut up and get in the damn car, Bradshaw.” You put your hand on your hips, wondering exactly how much trouble you’d get in if you just left him here.

“S’not a car.” His brown eyebrows pinch together in imitation of great focus even as his words are slurred, exhibiting exactly how much he’s had to drink. A guy his size doesn’t go down without a fight, not to mention that he smells like a distillery. Your feet hurt. You should be home, in your pajamas with your feet up. Instead, you’re still in your work clothes in a shady parking lot outside a dive bar attempting to wrangle a drunk hockey player into your car so you can take him home. Your patience was already paper thin when you got here, now it’s nonexistent.

“Bradshaw. Car. Now.” You snap. He gives you a dubious look as he yanks roughly on the passenger side door and maybe he has a point because you watch as he gracelessly smacks his obnoxiously large head on the bottom of the canopy that forms the doorframe. You can’t help the bubble of deranged laughter that escapes your mouth. You’re exhausted and seeing Bradley Bradshaw get a little comeuppance for the trouble that he insists on causing you is karma at its finest.

He’s groaning and attempting to fold himself into your bright pink bug which would probably be a tall order when he’s sober, but drunk? It’s an impossible task. You sigh and get into the car, turning it on before slamming the button to retract the canopy. Thankfully, it’s a beautiful night in San Diego as you pull out of the parking lot, the cool air whipping your ponytail around. You glance at the man next to you to see that despite being crammed into the passenger seat like a trick snake in a can, he’s fallen asleep, one cheek smashed against the window, a thin line of drool escaping a corner of his mouth. You chuckle to yourself, and if you pause to take a photo for later at the next streetlight, he’s none the wiser.

~~~~~

Halfway back to your apartment, you realize you have no idea where Bradley lives and you groan, making a turn that’ll take you back to the arena. When you pull into the long-empty parking garage, you lean your head against the steering wheel, praying for patience you’re not sure you still possess after the night you’ve had. Bradley stirs now that the car has stopped moving, blinking against the harsh lights of the parking garage.

“Where are we?” He groans, covering his eyes and you turn to glare at him.

“Work. I don’t know where you live.” He grumbles a low sound, before spitting out an address that you quickly enter into your navigation, scoffing at the luxury apartment complex that it belongs to as you put the car back into drive. Bradley drops his hand as you pull back out into the night air, letting it rest out of the window that he’s rolled down.

Since he’s awake and you’re not in the mood to beat around the bush you casually ask, “What’s the deal with you and Maverick?” You’ve been thinking about it ever since Mickey mentioned it to you. If Bradley and Mav are having issues, you need to talk to Mav about it. Bradley’s quiet, his attention focussed out the window, the breeze whipping his sandy brown curls into a frenzy that’ll be a bitch to tame in the morning. You see the hand in his lap curl into a fist, however, and you swallow, hoping he’s drunk enough to let an answer slip.

“Maverick’s the reason I got traded.” His voice is quiet and the slight slur is almost lost to the wind and sounds of the night but you catch it.

“I know, he asked for you specifically. It was sweet.” You say, prodding gently, fishing for anything he’s willing to give you. Bradley snorts and you turn slightly to see his fist is even tighter and his jaw is set.

“Sweet? Considering I’ve seen him once in my life before now, at my mom’s fucking funeral? I wouldn’t call it sweet.” Your heart lurches. You knew both of Bradley’s parents were dead but you’d assumed he and Mav were close as a byproduct but this was news to you.

You curse the appearance of Bradley’s apartment complex coming into view, desperate to get more information out of him as you pull into the driveway. A doorman rushes over as Bradley opens his door and all but tumbles out of the car like water out of a dam.

“Mr. Bradshaw, sir!” The older man exclaims as he wrestles Bradley to his feet with a surprising amount of strength for his age. “You’ve had too much to drink again, Mr. Bradshaw.” He chastises gently as you come around the car to try and help as he waves you off. “I hope you’re not giving your pretty lady any trouble.” You give him a tired smile before shaking your head.

“Oh I’m not his pretty anything, we work together.” The man nods, giving you a smile.

“Alright then miss, I’ll take him from here, don’t you worry about him.” You glance at his name tag.

“Thank you, Tony.” He gives you another bright smile and waves you off with his free hand.

“You get home safe, miss!” He calls back to you as you get back into your car, watching him lead the much taller drunk hockey player into the building like this is every night for him. Well, it probably is. You turn over Bradley’s revelation in your mind as you drive yourself home to your waiting bed, exhaustion setting in along with the throbbing in your jaw.

[decimalsheep]

I finally watched Bride of Halloween and I love Amuro content (even tho he was stuck in a box for most of the movie LOL) but it got me thinking about like. how so many of his friends died and i’m a sucker for fix-its so:

Time Travel!DCMK where Conan is thrown ten years into the past, right back to the day he met Akai at the beach. He’s bewildered and disbelieving but, quote, “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” so he accepts his new reality and makes a plan accordingly.

At the beach he makes sure to cling stubbornly to Akai, refusing to let go and when they eventually leave the beach, Conan has a new number registered in his phone and a new pen pal buddy. Understanding that Conan is not as he appears, Akai agrees to send updates on his life occasionally (at first out of amusement and pics of whatever food he’s eating, later on asking Conan for advice on specific cases). 

At 9 years old, Conan begs his dad for tickets to Kuroba Toichi’s magic show in Tokyo. Yusaku, who is about 86% confident that his son is a time-traveler, agrees easily and may or may not have called the police for back up just in case. Because Conan doesn’t watch magic shows, time-traveler or not (if you don’t count Kid’s heists) and the poorly hidden desperation when he asked was more than enough of a hint that something was going to go down. Surprise surprise, the venue burns down, but this time Kuroba Toichi lives with some minor injuries. (The incident leaves his arm numb, and he feels that his days as Kaitou KID is running short - he decides to pass on the mantle to Kaito when he’s old enough)

At 10 years old, Conan bumps into Hagiwara Kenji at the park. It’s an incident he almost forgets about until he’s staring at the rest of the police academy students. It’s July, and Hagiwara dies in November. Conan doesn’t know the specifics, but when November rolls around, Hagiwara gains a watchful shadow. It’s when the serial bomber case appears on the news that he knows it’s time. 

There are officers at the entrance of the hotel stopping guests from entering, but Conan has never let that stop him before, so he runs, and runs and runs to the floor that Hagiwara is on. The timer is stopped, but Conan knows that it will explode regardless. He throws himself into the room, startling the occupants, and starts shouting.

“The bomb is going to explode!” he shouts and claws at the arm that tries to stop him from getting closer. “The bomber- he- it’s going to start again, Matsuda-san says it’s going to explode!” Hagiwara looks up at the commotion, radio in his hand. “What’s going on?” Matsuda snaps.

“It’s going to explode, the timer isn’t stopped!” The kid shouts, desperate and pleading. “You’re going to die!”

The kid looks straight at him when he says that. Unbidden, dread settles in his stomach, every single hair on end and the unshakable feeling that what the kid is saying is-

“Everybody out!” Hagiwara shouts - commands. “Down the hall, now!”

There’s a rush to get out the door and the kid falls to the ground in the process. He scoops him up and together they exit the hotel room. It’s as he’s turning into the hall that he hears the tell-tale sign of the timer turning back on, ticking down to their demise. The radio is left lying on the ground, Matsuda’s voice coming out loud and panicked.

The bomb explodes.

The force of the explosion sends him flying, curling his body around the kid so as to cushion him from the impact. There’s a ringing in his ears and his back hurts like a bitch, but with more distance from the bomb and several walls to take the brunt of the damage, everybody lives.

Matsuda definitely isn’t crying when he sees him coming alive out of the hotel. Life-threatening situation aside, he is so making fun of him for it in the future. Temporarily forgotten in the moment, a small boy slips away from the crowd.

A few days after his 11th birthday, Conan feels someone tailing him. He acts as if he doesn’t notice, fiddling with his phone. But as the crossing light starts flashing for an oncoming train, he bolts and takes off across the street. His tail startles and the chase begins. Using his smaller stature he zigzags through the alleys and streets, throwing himself into crowds in an effort to shake off whoever is following him. But they’re good, and persistent. He turns into an alley that he knows has a gap wide enough to fit only him from his time in the future/past. But he comes to a stop when he sees the construction going on and curses under his breath. 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jolts, reaching for his tranquilizer watch that he got Agasa to remake, only to freeze when he sees who’s behind him.

“Oh, it’s just you Amuro-san,” he sighs, heart beating wildly but now calming down knowing he’s not in danger.

“Amuro-san?” Furuya Rei repeats, bemused, and shit he’s not Amuro yet.

He stutters out some random excuse about how he mistook him for someone and Amu-Furuya seems to let it go. But from that day on, he sees Furuya lurking in his peripherals. He never gets close, hovering from afar, but he’s there nonetheless. It’s not until Conan gets involved with a kidnapping incident does Furuya appear, kicking down the door and a wild look on his face. The rope leaves a burn on his wrists but he’s uninjured otherwise, still, Furuya treats him like he’ll break at a moments notice, carrying him with surprising softness. 

From that moment on, Furuya gets close. He’ll say hi if they run into each other (on the days it’s a coincidence) or help him out with whatever errand he’s on (if it’s not). Conan get’s the feeling that Furuya isn’t sure how to treat him. 

He asks him about it one day, when Hagiwara spots him across the street and drags him into a family restaurant, proclaiming that he’s “caught the kid.” At the table are seated several familiar faces, Furuya included.It’s apparently lunch to congratulate Furuya and Hiromitsu on their new promotion. Everybody at the table orders for him, saying something about how he saved Hagiwara’s life. Conan insists that he has no idea what they’re talking about, but they don’t seem to care, already three beers in on a Saturday afternoon. 

It leaves him and Furuya sitting together, who appears to be the chaperone for the day. 

“That day,” he starts, keeping his eyes on his glass of orange juice even as he feels Furuya’s gaze slide to him. “Why did you...”

Furuya stares at him, expression carefully controlled. “You’re... familiar,” he says slowly, looking away as Conan freezes at his words. “Somehow, I have the feeling that if it weren’t for you... that because you’re here, everything will be different.”

His eyes flash, grief and anguish and rage flickering before fading into a calm. “Everything will be okay,” he whispers and Conan isn’t sure if he was meant to hear that.

He’s 12 when he meets up with Sera to watch the new Gojira movie, having become close friends with her since the day at the beach, forming a tight knit group of four along with Ran and Sonoko. The other two aren’t there that day, saying they’d rather go to the new cafe than watch a monster movie, so it’s just the two of them at the theaters.

At the train station where they’re about to head back home, he excuses himself to go to the restroom. On his way back out onto the platform, he bumps into someone.

“Shuu-nii?” he blurts (Sera had convinced him to call him that, and Akai hadn’t protested) and Akai blinks in surprise at seeing him. 

“Oh, are you here with Sera?” He asks, then glances at the ticket in his hand. “Then I’m assuming Sera actually does have money for a train ticket?”

They walk together back to the platform and he’s treated to yet another surprise when he sees Sera standing with Hiromitsu. Wait, he remembers Sera mentioning this-

“Hiro-san?” He asks innocently, plan forming in his head. He scoots closer to Akai so that they’re shoulder to shoulder, silently willing him to play along. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Hiromitsu looks up, surprised at first then apprehensive once he sees Akai next to him. At this point in time, Furuya, Hiromitsu, and Akai are all unaware of each other’s undercover status. In Hiromitsu’s view, Conan is currently standing next to a criminal. And in Akai’s view, Sera as well.

“I’m currently on a job,” Hiromitsu says pointedly, urging Conan to take the hint and not drop any important information, like the fact that he’s actually an undercover police officer. He knows Conan is smart, but today Conan is willfully obtuse.

“Where’s-” Furuya, he was going to ask, but suddenly he’s grabbed by the arm and dragged away from Akai. When he looks up, he sees a flash of blond hair under a baseball cap.

“It’s dangerous to be out so late at night,” Furuya says, smile tight and forced, even as his grip shifts into something more protective, his body standing in front of his as if to shield him from Akai’s view. He brightens up, bringing out his inner Ran.

“Rei-san!” He exclaims and beams up at him excitedly, doing his best to appear as innocent and friendly as he can. Sera and Akai are staring at him like he’s insane. Furuya and Hiro are staring at him the same way too. “It’s okay, I was with Shuu-nii.” 

“Shuu?” Furuya questions, eyebrow raised as Akai raises a hand to stop him from saying anything more.

“Yeah, Akai Shuichi! He’s like an older brother to me.”

“Oh? I could have sworn your name was Moroboshi.” 

“Surely you understand the importance of aliases. Right, Rei?”

“So how’s work going with the FBI, Shuu-nii?”

“Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about-”

“What the fuck do you mean FBI-”

“And you too! Matsuda and Date and Hagiwara-san were complaining about how ever since you two got into PSB you were too busy to hang out-”

“What the fuck do you mean PSB-”

[alpha-trauma-novel-trans]

Chapter 86

Wooyeon stared blankly into space. A flurry of thoughts floated slowly through his mind. Most of them were Suhyang's words, but at the end of them was Dohyun's.

'See you tomorrow.'

A little while ago, after Suhyang had finished talking, Dohyun had gone home with a complicated face. He offered to call for Secretary Yoon, but Dohyun politely declined. It was a strange reaction, considering that everything was going to work out if everything they'd heard was true.

Perhaps that was why Wooyeon did not return to his room but stayed quietly in the study. He thought over everything he had done, recalled the conversation in the car, remembered Secretary Yoon's apology, and even had a small question.

'What did they talk about the day Dohyun went to get his phone fixed?'

Dohyun said he wanted to ask for permission. In the car, and in retrospect on the day of the argument, it was implied that Dohyun had reached out to Suhyang first. As if he brought up Wooyeon on his own accord, not because he was told to.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Suhyang's words cut off his train of thought. Wooyeon focused and slowly looked around. The study, decorated similarly to Suhyang's office, still had a faint scent of Dohyun's pheromones.

“There's something I wanted to ask you.”

Suhyang looked at Wooyeon as if to telling him to talk. Her eyes, which looked nothing like his, were bright in color but strangely heavy.

"Last week...Seonsaeng-nim said he met you."

“Yeah, why?”

“Why did he come to see you?”

He hadn't asked because it was too obvious. Dohyun's reason for meeting Suhyang was obviously to give her an update on Wooyeon, but why did she want to hear about their relationship?

"You don't necessarily need to know that."

Suhyang cut him off firmly. But Wooyeon had a set plan for what to say.

"It involves me."

“....”

"Like I said earlier, this is all my own business."

It seemed to work this time, since she didn't argue back. It was a subtle look of amusement, but it was enough that she didn't kick him out. Suhyang stared at Wooyeon for a moment, then spoke up.

“He came here because he thought he knew the person who posted the photo. He had someone he suspected and it would be quicker to investigate this way.”

It started out differently than Dohyun's story. But what came next was similar to what Wooyeon had heard.

“He said you weren't safe on your own, so he was going to keep you at his place for the time being.”

“....”

“What did he say, he apologized for dating you.”

It was subtly different from what Wooyeon knew. Unlike what he'd expected, which was that Suhyang had asked him to tell her how Wooyeon was doing, this was Dohyun's own will. It wasn't even really a 'report'.

“...Is that all?”

“No.”

Suhyang turned her head, her gaze shifting away before returning to Wooyeon after a short pause. With a hint of hesitation, Suhyang spoke.

“He even asked me to wait until he told you."

Wooyeon didn't ask what he needed time to say. From then until now, there was only one thing Dohyun had to tell him. What mattered was why it was Suhyang and not Dohyun who told Wooyeon the truth. 

“But...you told me first?”

If she'd granted Dohyun's request, Wooyeon wouldn't have been so hurt. There would have been no need for Dohyun to desperately beg, and no argument that they took the long way around. It's possible that Dohyun would have remained silent, but at least that would have been better than the current situation.

"I just weighed the pros and cons."

Even after living his whole life, he still couldn't figure out Suhyang's feelings. Especially not when she stared at him so expressionlessly. Her pupils were transparent enough to see through, but they didn't reveal what she really felt. 

“If I hadn't told you, do you think you would have left his house?”

“...Ha.”

He felt like he couldn't breathe. Shackles rising up from the ground tightened around his ankles. The pressure that had been creeping in finally reached the tip of his neck.

'No. This is a misunderstanding, Wooyeon.'

He remembered the sensation of Dohyun's grip on his wrist. He remembered the way his gaze, which rarely wavered, was filled with desperation. The whole scene flashed through his mind like a panorama, from the moment he let go of Dohyun, turned his back, climbed into Secretary Yoon's car, and drove into the main house.

Why did Dohyun’s phone ring at that particular time? Why did she insist on calling Dohyun when she knew Wooyeon was going to him? He didn’t check the caller ID, but he now knew exactly who was calling.

‘I’m sorry about a few days ago.’

“You did it on purpose.”

Dohyun probably knew. If he was shrewd enough, he would have seen where and how it had gone wrong. That’s why he would have sarcastically told Secretary Yoon that it was too late.

“You deliberately...to make me return to the main house..."

His head was dizzy, his eyes spinning and his body drained of energy. Even breathing was difficult, and then he heard a hoarse voice.

“It was for the best.”

It was an irresponsible statement. It wasn't the kind of thing you say when you're angry and frustrated.

"The wounds you receive from people will heal over time. Moreover, how could you trust and keep by your side someone who would leave bruises on your wrists?"

“Ah...”

The bruise on his wrist. Wooyeon, recalling the memory from that time, gasped in short repetitive bursts. A feeling that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry from quickly turned to bitter resentment.

“Then the wounds you received from your mother?”

It was a single sentence, but Suhyang stiffened. Her normally sharp pupils became unusually dull. Wooyeon stood up and walked out of the study without giving Suhyang a second glance.

next chapter

[swift-creates]

Plan 86 fic playlist listening guide (possible spoilers under the cut)

songs:

It’s Not A Fashion Statement It’s A Deathwish - My Chemical Romance

Scared Of The Dark - Lil Wayne [from Into the Spider-Verse]

You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison - My Chemical Romance

Hear the Sound - Mayday Parade

Imperial March - John Williams

Still Breathing - Mayday Parade

One Man Drinking Games - Mayday Parade

Old Scars / Future Hearts - All Time Low

Cages - We The Kingdom

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

I Thought I Lost You - Miley Cyrus and John Travolta [from Bolt]

No Matter Where You Are - Diego Luna and Zoe Saldaña [from The Book Of Life]

fic themes/segments they align with:

1–2: Tech isn't dead

3: Strike and Mayday in jail

4: Hunter POV, ‘she’ can be Omega

5–7: Anakin is Sad

8: Strike and Anakin psyching themselves up to get it together

9–10: LET’S GET OUT OF HERE (Tantiss breakout)

11: Reunion :D

12: Happy ending <3

[painthorseblues]

CALLING ALL ARTISTS, WRITERS, AND THE BAD BATCH FANS! PLAN 86: FIX THE FINALE, ON THE DOUBLE! This is a fandom event in honor of the collective trauma we all received in the finale of season 2. With your help, we can cheer up the fandom and bring some positivity back to the community. Registration forms open TODAY (April 5th), and can be accessed by going to the #announcements channel in The Clone Zone. (If it has been buried, check the pinned messages)

If you have any questions or concerns, please send me an ask or direct it to the #help-desk channel in the Discord. Since all participants of this event must be a server member, here’s a link to the server. We’re excited to see you there! DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO DUNK ON OR BASH THE ORIGINAL WRITERS OF THE SHOW. We understand that Tech meant a lot to everyone, he is personally a big comfort to me -- but the creators of The Bad Batch are real people. Bullying, harassment, and threats towards any member of The Bad Batch crew is not tolerated nor will it be associated with this event. This is all in good fun. THANK YOU! 🧡 REBLOG TO SPREAD THE WORD! 🧡

[crimsonwing62]

Stranger Things HC (Based around the Christmas holiday but not really a Christmas HC)

Its the late 2010s? Everyone's grown up, they have their own families, their careers, their own lives.

Steve's a support worker at the local all through years school.

Robin currently teaches a humanities subject at the local university. 

Nancy worked as a journalist eventually building her own paper from the ground up and just celebrated its 10 Yr anniversary. She and Robin have travelled the world and still plan on new adventures.

Eddie's was discovered in '88 he toured throughout the 90s and early '00s. He still makes music but likes to focus more on Music Producing so he can spend more time at home with Steve and the kids (15f, 10f, 6m). Robin and Nancy are their Godparents

The four get together for an adults only dinner at least once a week, alternating who's hosting - everyone secretly prefers Steve's cooking but no-one ever says it. Robin often pops in to the Harrington-Munson household for a cup of tea and a gossip throughout the week anyway.

Dustin works at NASA (or an equally impressive physics institute), in Florida which they all simultaneously give him shit for and are jealous of bc he can go to Disney and Orlando whenever he wants to. 

Lucas and Max have been married for 7 years now. Max still skates, Lucas still plays basketball with his friends on Saturdays. They have a two kids (12f, and 4m). 

Erica is also a world renowned scientist in her field. She often gets brought on to teams as a consultant and has worked with Dustin on a couple projects.

Will has his own Gallery in California which Jane (El) sometimes volunteers at. Mike works across the road at a job he loves but not as much as his Husband, Will.

Jane's taking life easy taking in experiences, learning what she can about the world. Max and Jane often meet up for girlie days.

Jonathan tours new exhibitions, releases photobooks, does photography around the world. He travels with his partner (or roommate depending on which country) Argyle. His most recent photobook has been his biggest success. It featured a collection of his earliest work of the Upside Down Gang. Themes of Queer Platonic Family and Queer Joy could be explored through the photos and the accompanying pieces written by Nancy.

Hopper and Joyce retired together and finally married in the 90s. Hopper gets antsy so he still does some volunteer work here and there.

Karen finally left Ted Fucking Wheeler after his reaction to the revelation of the the '86 earthquake actually was, was less than appropriate (he under reacted, which made her realise how much of an ahole he was) she remarried to a lovely chap called, Dan, a few years later. The Wheeler kids warmed up to him eventually. And Holly Wheeler exists somewhere but doesn't really apply here.

Anyway every year they made a promise to go away for Christmas.

Robin usually researches the place to go, Steve co-ordinates the kids, hopper-byers', and Karen and her Husband's Schedule to find the best dates to book it for, and everyone's order of arrival. Nancy organises the travel for the four and Steddie's kids whilst everyone else organises their own. (Will books Jim and Joyce's flights for them. Joyce is okay with a computer, much better than Jim, but if it goes wrong she can't fix it) Eddie wrangles their kids, packs and gets their family ready to go as Steve is often to focused on the craziness of  school the run up to winter break.

Steve, Eddie, their kids, Robin and Nancy are the first to arrive, two days after their schools finishes. Eddie and Nancy are usually sent into the village to get a Christmas tree whilst Steve and Robin unpack the food, the drinks, snacks, the decorations. The kids, after exploring and claiming beds, get involved in the decorating part, often making paper rings, snowflakes. The eldest acts like she hates it but secretly loves making them better than last year.

When Eddie and Nancy get back, most of the decorations are up except for the Tree. They do that together, Christmas music blasting in the background.

The Jim, Joyce, Will, Mike, Karen, Dan, arrive mid morning the next day having met up  after the airport and drove up together.

Lucas, Max, their two kids and Jane, Jonathan and Argyle arrive at the same time mid afternoon.

Dustin's the last one to arrive late evening that day.

The whole time is full of fun, buzzing energy, exchanging stories from the year and generally enjoy being in each others presences after being away for so long. A family walk outside on Christmas Eve. One day, They play in the snow and end up in a massive snowball fight. Inevitably there's at least one evening, when the kids have gone to bed, and a couple bottles of alcohol have been consumed so the everyone's a little tipsy and honest, the topic of that place comes up. Most of them have dealt with the trauma it caused, gone to therapy (either paying for it themselves or via Eddie, Jonathon, or Nancy covering the cost). Night terrors were few and far between, paranoia about flickering lights or animal screeching noises have turned into a dulled response. The initial flinch will always be there but panic and worry that used to follow doesn't anymore. This particular year, it hits the party that Lucas and Max's eldest is the same age as the younger party members were when Will went missing, and Jane turned up on Mike's door step. And Steve and Eddie's eldest is a year younger than the elder party members were, and their middle daughter the same age as Erica when she was brought into the fold. Lucas, Max, Steve and Eddie make a mental note to keep a closer eye and hug them a little tighter this year.

----

Jonathan's photography book is based on one of my favourite head canons by @schrijveer

I

This headcanon was inspired by a house i saw in an interior design book and thought it looked like a perfect place for the Party's Christmas get together…

I'm also 60% sure my brain was also consulting the Music video for Last Christmas for ideas of activities...

[cursorist]

Devlog 6

Hello everyone, It's devlog time again. 

This week has entirely been spent working on the big cg. After staring at pixels in photoshop for more then 10 hours this week, I can safely say it's finally done and implemented. It was quite a challenge but I'm proud of the end result. (I even managed to give it a tiny animation of three frames.)

Since my attention was squarely on drawing the big cg and implementing it I haven't worked on anything else this week. So the goal from last devlog of finishing all the cg's this week sadly couldn't be met. 

Next week my focus will lie on finishing the last cg and programming that one into the game. Once that's done I'll code all the new cg's into the updated gallery. The rest of the time will be spent on bug fixes and an addendum I wanted to write for one of the scenes. 

On sunday I'm planning on posting a summer sneak peek containing the last sprite that has yet to be shown off. (I won't spoil anything but someone got a haircut.) 

Here are the obligatory numbers:

Writing summer (95%) 

Programming summer season (85%)>(86%)

Sprites (100%)

Gui (85%)>(90%)

Thank you for reading the devlog and to the people who've played the game. Follow me on my socials for further updates, sneak peeks at future content and answers to your questions. 

Have a nice day!