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#upper owens
benevolenterrancy · 10 months
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this is a little belated by I saw @dayinthedeath's discussion about who in torchwood is most likely to be spiderman and I needed to join in with this proposal: it's a team effort in united nerdy idiocy
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scattered-winter · 11 months
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911 doing another earthquake disaster in earthquake-prone territory......don't be shy lone star you can do the same.......*looks around* feels an awful lot like tornado weather, don't you think??
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reversesymmetry · 1 year
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You know that post that’s like “what if when you die you see a scroll of all your stats of your lifetime?”
I want that but I want to see how much money I spent on Taco Bell in my entire life.
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dick2big · 6 months
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Hi good day how are you? I really like Wind Breaker but I don't find smut about it. If you don't mind, won't you write about it.
BED-BREAKER
Summary: just smut about windbreakers boys.
Warning: sexual theme, oral sex, doggy style , missionary and cowgirl!
Pairing: Dom, Vinny , joker & Owen x f! Reader
Hi there, ofcourse, sorry this was posted late! I had some other works to post and started slacking off! You can always request anything here, next time please specify which characters you’d like. And I apologize if your wanted character wasn’t in this. - samii 💌
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★ DOM KANG
dom 100% loves taking you about anywhere, one time he even requested having sex in his dads club.
Big fan of stomachs, no matter the size , scar , rolls , moles or any insecurities he just loves planting kisses on yours and because of your heat he often finds his self sleeping on it
During sex he’s not very loud , a few grunts here and there but nothing like whimpering or moaning unless you two have been at it for a while he would leave a few gaspy noises!
really into doggy style for some reason, he just loves how your ass slams back against his hips and how easily he can make it jiggle and red with his hand prints <3
He’s definitely big, I mean have you seen this guy? Packing about a 9/10 inch
He has a happy trail. Argue with the wall
Likes wrapping his arms around you , then continues to ravage you.
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★ VINNY HONG
Despite his looks he gets embarrassed when you two have sex, but when he sees you underneath him clasping at the sheets or anything to control yourself his red eye glows with excitement to ruin you
He loves missionary so he can see your face, plant kisses on your jawline then savor the taste of your lips
He isn’t really into any specific type of body part , but he does love it when your breasts slightly bounce, and once again doesn’t care if their small , middle or huge. As long as he can watch he’s fine with it.
Vinny whimpers, I’m sorry but he does. He’s a sensitive guy and when you have sex he’s glad you chose him and cherish moments with him
Definitely spanks your ass when you walk by him or when your back is arched
Hickeys , hickeys lots of hickeys! Vinny can’t control his whimpers so he chooses to muffle them by painting your body with marks. <3
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★ JOKER
this is unrelated but why doesn’t this motherfucker have a last name 😭
Joker loves cowgirl, that’s it. He just wants to hold your hips to thrust back into you and control your ever move even though your the one topping him. He can’t help it, that’s just how he is a dominator.
Speaking about dominator, he’s definetly a dom. Even if you tried to take over this mf will pin you down and just thrust harder into you not even stopping his hips for a second.
He’s fast in sex, fast and rough. Where do you think all that anger goes ?
he likes your ass, biting it , spanking it , kissing it. Anything <3 he just loves it. Sometimes he’d just slap your ass so hard you’d jolt high in the air then look back at him disappointed
He likes his arms, the way he can just choke you with them while fucking you from behind muttering stuff into your ear
When you guys fuck his earrings dangle and make noises so that’s sends you both over the edge
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★ OWEN KNIGHT
he’s mean during sex, his eyes glowing in the dark and just making you whine for mercy.
Definitely fucks you in front of a mirror , just so you can see his blue orbs focused on you watching your every move even if you try to squint them he’d just force them open by pounding even harder
His favorite body part on you are your thighs , he likes having them on his shoulders while you massage his scalp while watching a movie, just holding you up in the air and to see them pressed against your chest when his cock keeps getting sucked into you
I headcannon he likes giving you oral sex more then you give him, something about you arching your upper body and thighs twitching makes him wanna pounce onto you, Ofcourse after you cum first <3
Has tried to record you two having sex before , but once he saw you looking at the camera with a fucked out look and eyes rolling back biting your lower lip he threw his phone away before smashing his lips onto yours roughly while his hips never stopped… but the recording luckily still went on and your voices were heard.
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Anger Issues
When Owen first came to this new city, in this new and foreign country, he was full of hope. A fresh start in an unfamiliar land. It was an adventure! The world was his oyster, and the possibilities were endless! He had just finished university and had a degree in art history, which should make it easy for him to find work.
As it turns out, that was a lie.
For three long, grueling months, Owen tried everything to make a living in the big city. The truth was that his degree often wasn't recognized, and even when it was, he wasn't considered qualified to do the job, often without any obvious reason. The financial reserves he had were draining quickly and his hopes of finding good and fulfilling work in the new city were getting smaller and smaller every day.
"You need experience to get a job, and you can't get a job without experience". Owen never realized how true this saying was until he had stumbled into that very situation. Desperate to get out of it, he finally found an unpaid internship in a museum for ancient art. It was a really interesting field for Owen, but it turned out his tasks were mundane and not related to the exhibits at all. Instead, he was confined to a small office room to scan and sort invoices - a tedious job and hardly what Owen had studied for.
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So, one day, in his break, when he went through the exhibition as usual, a wooden figure caught his eye that was apparently brought here this morning. It depicted the torso of a man, showing a sculpted chest. The figure was cut off below the upper arms and above the legs. The face of the man was symmetrical and angelic, although frowning. Above the hair, it showed either a thick halo or some kind of hat.
Owen was inexplicably drawn towards the figure. It was well-preserved and Owen couldn't quite assign it a region or time period. Looking at the sign, Owen realized it had no information about this either. Clearly a curiosity!
Driven by his own desire for knowledge, Owen stepped closer, hoping to get a more detailed look. It was as if a faint whisper was coming from the grim statue, but that must have been his imagination. He reached out with his hand to touch the wooden surface, only to hesitate again. It was, of course, forbidden to touch the exhibits, but perhaps feeling the structure of the wood would help him understand the piece more.
As soon as he touched the surface, the whispers grew louder all of a sudden, and his fingers felt a slight jolt - but both sensations stopped immediately again.
Someone behind him was clearing his throat.
"Ahem. Owen. Do I need to remind you not to touch the exhibit?", Mr. Hastings, the director of the museum, said, looking sternly at Owen.
"Oh, no, Sir, I just thought... it might give me some better understanding..."
"Rules are rules." Mr. Hastings said, but he was smiling again.
Owen however felt a most unusual feeling bubbling up in him. At first, he didn't quite know where to put it, but it soon became very clear to him. He was angry! The rational part of his mind tried to understand why - there was no real reason. Mr. Hastings was right of course and judging by his smile, Owen really didn't have a problem. Regardless, he felt as if he had just been insulted the worst possible way. Before he could stop himself, he burst out:
"Do you know where you can put your precious rules? Fuck them! Fuck you! Fuck this whole place! You don't want me to do real work here?! Fine! I quit!"
Head steaming, Owen removed his museum badge from his jacket and threw it to the ground with such force that the plastic shattered. With another loud "Fuck you!", he ran off, leaving the befuddled Mr. Hastings behind, as well as the museum.
Only after he had walked a few blocks, Owens anger subsided somewhat. What has he been thinking? He should turn around and apologize at once!
Then again, it was an unpaid internship. Even though the way to quit this job hasn't been too professional, what was done was done - and perhaps for the better, too. He could focus on finding a better job now. There surely had to be something.
There wasn't. Owen had no better luck then before, but inexplicably, his tolerance for frustration had diminished. After the third denied application, Owen had become so angry that he actually punched a hole into the thin walls of his apartment. Alongside the anger, there had been some changes to Owen's body, as well: He seemed overall fitter and filled out his clothes better. He also found his libido increased somewhat. Where before he had jerked off perhaps once a week, he found himself hard now more and more often, and his hand was drawn to his cock even more.
Jerking off helped to cool the red hot anger somewhat that he found himself quite often in, so it was quickly becoming a daily thing. However, being constantly torn between being angry and being horny didn't leave much space for patience. His money was running dry, too, so, Owen finally accepted a job in a field that was far below his academic standards: He started a job as a fast-food cashier.
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The red "FST" uniform, as the fast food chain was called, was tight on Owen's chest, when he started his first work day. They had probably given him a smaller size, even though they said it was XL. Owen was already feeling angry about that obvious mistake, but he swallowed his anger and let himself be introduced to the cash register.
The system was overwhelmingly complex. It had like a hundred different buttons, and Owen quickly felt his head swimming. It shouldn't be so hard to understand a fast food cash register, but apparently, this one was extra complex. Just his luck!
At some point, he just nodded as the manager showed him the functions of the device. The introduction wasn't very long, only ten minutes, but Owen didn't understand a thing. You really needed a degree for that monstrosity! Still, he was expected to serve his first customer right away, pure insanity.
The first order was easy enough, a plain hamburger and a coke, and after searching the right buttons for a good two minutes, Owen managed to put in the order. However, the second customer wanted a milkshake, too, and that was the final straw. They really couldn't expect Owen to juggle such complex orders in his mind AND put them into the machine. Angrily, he shouted out in frustration and let his fist come down on the cash register with full force, again and again. Of course, the thin metal and plastic yielded to his rage and the machine broke.
"FUCK THIS FUCKING JOB!"
This was the breaking point for Owen. Everything had gone wrong since he had moved to this fucking city. No job, no money, no nothing! He tried to wriggle out of the way-too-small uniform top but ended up ripping it apart instead.
The manager ran over and pulled him from behind.
"Stop that! Stop that right now!"
"LET ME GO! I QUIT!"
"You're going nowhere! You can't leave after what you've done!"
With an angry roar, the now half-naked Owen shoved the manager against the counter with full force and stormed off. He didn't care if the manager wanted to call the police, or sue him, or whatever.
As soon as he arrived at his shabby apartment, Owen took out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He didn't get very far, though. The computer was confusing, and Owen was still feeling angry from his last job. He finally managed to pull up his favorite porn site and started watching videos.
The normal porn he usually consumed didn't do a good job of calming him down today. He needed something rougher, something more primal. The female porn stars were too weak for the sex to be stimulating, he decided.
After clicking through a few more videos, he spied a thumbnail of two guys getting at it roughly. Brilliant. When there were only men involved, the sex would be much better. They wouldn't take shit from the girls, and they'd be strong. Much more satisfying.
Seeing two men having sex brought back his cock to full erection and soon enough, Owen splattered his cum all over his muscular torso.
As the post-nut-clarity set in, Owen realized he had a problem. He needed something to channel all that rage into before it destroyed his life entirely. After some research, he decided to join a Krav Maga club.
The raw brutality of the sport helped Owen to tune off the complicated world around him and made him feel happy for the first time in weeks. He trained often and hard, quickly stacking even more muscles on his already impressive frame. Of course, Owen wasn't clever enough to grasp the techniques of the sport, so he just substituted it by raw strength. A lot of kicks and hits found their way into his face, but he was healing quickly as well. Over the course of a few weeks however, the brutality left its marks in his face. His nose looked crooked as if it had been broken and his jaw looked manly, but not exactly beautiful.
Still, joining the club was the best decision he could have made. He met some new friends, who set him up with a new job as a warehouse worker. Carrying crates and heavy barrels from one place to another was the perfect job for Owen. He didn't need to understand what he was moving, nor did he have to do any paperwork (not that he would have been able to - Owen had his trouble with letters and numbers, which left him pretty much illiterate). He just needed to do what his manager said, and he was happy for it.
Besides the Krav Maga, he found another outlet for his anger issues. Since he couldn't afford his flat anymore, Owen moved in with a couple of garbage workers he met at the warehouse. As it turned out, they, too, were gay and enjoyed it quite a lot when Owen split their cheeks roughly, not holding back one bit.
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lupoteodoro · 2 months
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Actors talking about their understandings of Winters/Nixon relationship:
It's a great relationship. There isn't a lot of romance in Band of Brothers. We don't see a lot of ladies. But that is a romance of the sort. -- Damian Lewis, the Ross Owen Show (2011)
I really enjoy the scene where Damian and I are having this bromance at the end, and there's this awkwardness, like, are we going to see each other again? It's almost like inviting the girl to the prom, asking him to come work with my factory, you know what I mean. And there's something about the idea of these guys being 1940s guys who weren't really allowed to talk about their feelings or admit that they like each other at all. They weren't allowed to. --Ron Livingston, the Ross Owen Show (2017)
I think there was a lot of sibling, friend, rivalry. That's part of any deep and abiding love. --Ron Livingston, HBO Band of Brothers podcast (2022)
Nix is such beautifully played by Ron. This slightly cavalier, Ivy League, upper-class, roguish character, seems to have got through the war, somehow, with his humor intact. And as long as there's a bottle not too far away you figure he can get through the day. And Dick is completely straight next to him. Opposites attracted. -- Damian Lewis, HBO Band of Brothers podcast (2022)
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froznwater · 2 months
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It’s decided. Alejandro is going to offer Noah a massage. Just to help him out a little. When he gets the superior grades at the end of the semester, he wants it to be because he is superior. Not because Noah was too busy suffering because of the pain throughout his body. That would be unfair. Plus, it’s just the nice thing to do. Alejandro is nice. And it has nothing to do with the itty bitty, basically non-existent interest he has in his friend.
Never.
That would be untoward.
-
“Hey, buddy!”
“Buddy?” Noah replies, a turn in his upper lip, “You’ve been spending too much time with Owen.”
He must agree.
It was the best he could come up with. Noah opened the door with far more haste than normal. Usually, it takes him at least thirty seconds. Sometimes more. But this time Alejandro only got one rap on the door before it angrily burst open.
Noah raises an eyebrow, bags dipping heavily under his eyes. His hair is a bit messier than usual and his shirt is askew on along the neckline. Showing off more of the skin there than ever. He has to actively force himself to keep eye contact.
“May I come in?”
The boy inside swings the door open a bit wider and turns on his heel, leaving Alejandro standing there, staring dumbly.
:)
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saintmuses · 1 month
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❝𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙣❞
Pairing:
Matthew Joy x Chase!Reader
Summary:
When he moved to a house next to Owen Chase and his wife after Essex journey; he was not expecting to see Owen’s sister -who he liked very much- as she thundered towards him in a mess of wild hair and a dress men like him would die to see her in.
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Warning(s): SMUT. Age gap (Reader is in her early 20s and Matthew is in his late 20s/early 30s). Voyeuristic themes (???). Fingering. P in V. Flashbacks in italics. Minors, DNI! Note: This happened after the events of the movie, but Matthew is still alive. Some scenes are inspired by Reign.
Word Count: 4.9k
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Nantucket, 1820
The water splattered when the rocks that Y/N had previously chosen were thrown in the water with a vicious intent exposing her frustration at her brother, Owen.
Standing at the water’s edge, she wrapped her arms around her frame to guard herself from a slight chill that held over the country.
Archie, her dog was suddenly barking, and the noise drew her attention to the side to see the golden-brown animal running towards the edge of the woods.
"Archie," she scolded him, her voice raised slightly. Gripping onto her skirts in reaction of concern once she saw him disappearing into the dark shadows of the trees. "No, come back!" She called out frantically, lifting her skirts slightly to run after her dog. "Archie!"
Her feet pounded into the ground as she ran towards the edge of the woods. "Archie, come back!" She called out again with a desperate twinge in her voice.
Before she could enter the woods, she felt large hands gripping her arm, swinging her around to face a man who appeared out of nowhere, except his strength overwhelmed her that she barreled into his firm chest instead.
She gasped inaudibly as she stumbled back with his hands gripping her arms to steady her. Her eyes peering out under her lashes, to see the man with medium dark brown hair curling at the base of his neck, and her eyes flickered down to his chest to see it was covered with white collared work billow shirt.
Although she could see the little gold earring on his left ear in her peripheral vision.
She had never seen him before, granted she lived here for a long while; However, the way he was dressed, he might have been in the same circle as her brother.
"Are you alright? People like you do not leave the land unattended." He said firmly, gripping her upper arms with gentle icy eyes.
She turned her gaze away to the woods, hoping her dog would show up, "but my dog..." she trailed off, meeting his eyes once again.
She felt his hands loosened before letting her arms go, "let him go." His eyes softened at what she was sure, concern on her face, in her eyes. "You cannot go into those woods alone." He said softly while his eyes conveyed seriousness that she couldn't help but to ask.
"Why not?" She asked, "what's in those woods?" Looking aside to observe the darkness that gripped the woods, "besides my dog who I might've caught if you hadn't stopped me." She then narrowed her eyes at him after turning her face to his.
"He'll find his way back." He said it with a mere smirk, "there's dinner." His eyes trailed off to behind her, indicating the house. "Who wouldn't want to be at the house where there’s food?" She then looked down at his statement, "except, perhaps, you." He said almost incredulously, "rather be running in the woods, would you?" His eyes flickered with amusement, "trudging through mud?"
Her eyes flashed with fire, "I quite like the way mud feels under my feet." Her voice was made of steel, defending her reasoning to be outside.
"Maybe you'll be sent to a covenant.” He said lightly, with a gentle hint of teasing in his depths. "For being a wild woman.” Shooting for an insult but missing the mark with the wide smile that colored his tone.
She looked at him in shock, "you're cheeky." She murmured.
"And you're upset about more than your dog taking a little jaunt into the wild." He took a step back, "what is it, darling?" He asked.
Her breathing hitched slightly, clearing her throat. "You should ask my brother," she scoffed, her tone expressed irritation as she narrowed her eyes once again.
"Ask him what?"
"Why he's such a moody arrogant ass." She said boldly, looking at the wood structure that was built as a home.
He smiled with amusement in his depths when she looked back to him.
"I find myself not inclined to ask him. Maybe you'll find my presence who would be interested in sharing your discontent with your brother after knowing why." He offered, a mask of indifference slipped on his face, looking at her before looking towards the woods.
"You know him?" She sounded surprised.
“Aye,” His mask of indifference faded away, “we have been on ships together, hunting for whale oils. I will be his ship second mate for Essex. Spending that much time would of course cause fission between us and we would have minor disputes because of it.”
"My apologies, but what I would like to know is..." she trailed off, looking over him and his clothing. "Who are you?" She asked softly, clasping her fingers together.
"I am Matthew." He introduced himself, "and I'll find your dog. I have an inkling of knowing where he might be at." He said with seriousness that outranked her brother's seriousness. “What is your name?”
“Y/N.” She said softly while the blood filled her cheeks as a sign of timidity, and he murmured her name which was spun sugar melting on his tongue.
It tasted like flowers; like the dandelions children would find in the vast fields when they would use their tiny hands and pull the stem away from the soil. They eventually would get curious by the bright color and would wonder about what they taste like.
Only her name was more sweeter than the flavor children would get in their mouths from the dandelions.
“I will find your dog if you go inside,” he said, raising his eyebrows, knowing it would prompt her to listen.
A smile tugged his lips as he stared at Y/N before looking down to the dirt ground when she opened the back door of the house.
She was untouchable in the vast wasteland out of Nantucket.
1821
Her brother had made it home last week after a long journey and had informed her to set up a room at the guest house for his friend who was coming this week for the duration of his stay. She did not question him, just relieved that he was alive albeit with a haunted look in his eyes.
Today had been a pleasant day, although not without a slight argument between her and Owen about her betrothal.
She was humming a soft tune her sister-in-law had used on her niece whenever she needed a nap.
Archie barked; the tone was filled with excitement. She was startled as he began to run out of the door of the guest house, and down the stairs, before she can even think to stop him.
Squinting, she peered out of the window to make out the lone figure sitting on the tree stump by the water’s edge, feeling her heart almost skipped a beat when realizing who it was.
Matthew.
She found herself following Archie, bare feet thumping against the floor as she bolted out of the guest house, the door creaked loudly, hearing the dirt shuffling as her feet hit the pathway after running down the stairs the same way Archie had.
She could tell the sounds of her footsteps pounding on the ground and Archie’s barking had caught his attention due to the tilting of his head before turning his head towards her until he realized she was running towards him.
He disembarked himself from the tree stump, squinting at her through the sunlight that was soon to set below the horizons.
She could tell he recognized her as he spread his arms apart, and she ran into his familiar arms. He hoisted her, holding her close, as her arms wrap around his neck and his chuckle sounded breathless in her ear.
“I didn’t know you would be here, Matthew,” she said his name breathlessly, looking into bright blue eyes before bringing her face to his neck, her arms tightening around his shoulders. She missed him more than she could ever admit, but the way he held her to him gave his inner thoughts away just the same as he burrowed his face in the juncture of her neck.
“I know, darling,” he murmured against her skin, squeezing her waist hard before placing her onto the tree stump next to him as he sat down. 
“How long are you going to stay for?” Her tone sounded eager. The first time he was here was before they boarded Essex journey and he only stayed for about a week. She was secretly praying that he was going to stay longer than that.
His eyes shined with unbridled softness reserved for her. “However long you want me to stay for,” his lips curled into a soft smile.
She giggled, “that is a dangerous statement.” Her eyes landed on the scar etched in his skin around the scalp, and she frowned. “How did you get that?”
“A nasty wound from the battle with the whale,” he said shortly, giving her a small smile.
She looked at him while he bent over to the side slightly, and she noticed his satchel propped against the wood when he reached down for it. Unbinding it with his hand to take out an object, and she saw him holding a flask that was bound with leather.
"I could use some of that." Offering her hand out for the leather flask, she looked at him expectantly. She could tell he didn’t want the liquid that was in his hand.
Looking at her with an unreadable expression, "is everything alright?" He handed her the flask before putting his hands on his knees.
"No, it isn't." She said softly, feeling the thick leather, and raised it to her lips. She tilted the flask, and the liquid poured into her mouth; she then swallowed it and winced at the burn as it inflicted on her throat. "I don't know how you can tolerate this."
He looked at her with a hint of amusement in his depths, "I haven’t drunk a single drop of alcohol since I almost died outside of the pub in the town many moons ago.” He gestured towards the flask. “I found a bottle of it on the ship before Essex sunk into the ocean and took it with me. Almost drank it.”
“Then why do you carry it with you?”
He hesitated, clearly it was a story he rarely told especially to someone like her. “To serve me as a reminder, I suppose. Of how far I have come.” He gave her a soft bitter smile. “Still doesn't make the temptation any less painful. Although I should probably tell you to slow down." He chuckled, a baritone sound that rolled down her spine.
"But you won't." She said, knowingly before handing him back the flask. “I hope you wouldn’t give into temptation of it.” Referring to the flask, her eyes implored into his.
He looked at her, “well drink all of it since that is my gift to you and I’ll just keep the flask.” His eyes shined in slight mirth.
She giggled, knowing it was not a gift. Her smile fading, “May I ask what happened before arriving back to here?” She asked softly, hesitant.
He swallowed; his eyes dimmed at the memories that haunted him as he stared out to the sea before turning his head towards her. “Perhaps when I am ready to talk about it. I do have all the time in the world now, not going anywhere.” 
She did not want to push it, so she nodded.
"May I indulge in what has happened?" He asked after handing the flask back to her, and she took it before she turned around to face him, her skirt clad knees barely touching his.
"It was so foolish of me to think that Owen would let me end the betrothal." She heaved a sigh, moving the flask in her hand.
“How long have you been betrothed to another?” His tone was sharp as he inquired, almost as if he was against the idea of her being betrothed to someone. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of him being on her side.
She cared for the man she was betrothed to, but she could not trust him. She could not love him but would have loved him if he had fit all in the expectations she had; not if he could take another woman so eagerly into his bed and share such intimacy with her, but she did tell Peggy, her sister-in-law after she found out the news that a man was required to marry someone did not mean he had to love her. It was a marriage of convenience. Some were fortunate in that department, like Owen and Peggy.
She sighed, “right before you and Owen left for the journey.”
His jaw tightened in response, and she looked away, ignoring the little fluttering in her abdomen.
 "I mean, Owen implied that one is not free to leave if one is unhappy. And while I am stuck with this man of my brother’s choosing with no recourse, he's free to do whatever he wants." Her eyes were downcast to the grass under her feet, "with whoever he wants, and I can’t do anything. I was fortunate enough that Owen left before he could push the betrothal along, I was able to stall and now I can’t." She took a sip of the alcohol before returning her gaze to his, "do you think I'm overreacting?" Ignoring the burn, she asked, "am I boring you?"
Moving his head from side to side, "no. No, it's unfathomable." Matthew said quietly, with an indescribable emotion in his eyes.
"What is?"
He parted his lips to let his tongue swipe his bottom lip before speaking. "Well, he has you. Why would he ever look elsewhere?" He murmured, with a gaze that somehow increased the intensity in his orbs.
She closed her mouth slightly, looking at him, and she trailed her eyes over his face. Seeing the details, she hadn't thought of before; his eyes were icy blue, but it had specks of gray in them; his nose was shaped impeccably that seemed soft and yet defined; he had a sharp jawline that could just brush against glass, and it would've shattered under slight pressure; and lips that were soft looking and the desire to kiss him increased within her.
She leaned towards his face, hovering over his lips with hers momentarily before capturing his soft lips. His lips parted slightly, allowing her to mold her lips between. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her.
Leaning back in shock, startled at her own action. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She stammered, apologizing profusely as she flushed in embarrassment.
"You're right. I should have." He reached out and gripped her wrist, pulling her forward to his face. She flushed deeper at the sight of the emotion in his eyes, more so on his face.
She gasped when his lips were pressing against hers, an urgent feeling as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, exploring. His hands tugged at her hair, before cupping her jaw briefly. The air was shared between them as they continued to move their lips to one another.
"I should go." She breathed after withdrawing from his lips.
Y/N muttered to herself after successfully avoiding Matthew for a few days, almost got caught at the wrong time. Fortunately, she was able to divert the possibility of having to deal with him. She lightly tiptoed behind the house, looking at softly lit window, she frowned. It was unusually late for Owen and Peggy to be awake. 
Her eyes widened once she walked up to the window, wishing her curiosity did not get the best of her as she saw the shadows of two figures on the bed through opaque layers of fabric. She moved away from the window, resting against the building’s structure.
She was curious enough, or else she wouldn't have followed the sounds to the narrowed area outside of the house that could get her into trouble, a situation that would never let her out unpunished if she were ever caught.
Once the sounds of the high and the low-pitched moans reached her again, she closed her eyes momentarily before opening them and she found herself hairbreadth away from the glass panes of the window. 
She peered in, to see her sister-in-law lying on her back on the bed and the man she married to was hovering over her behind the curtain. It was a good thing the curtains were opaque because she could not stomach the idea of seeing her brother in his nude form or her sister-in-law for that matter.
Their shadows illuminated their lovemaking, and she leaned away from the window once the man thrusted into his wife.
She was enthralled by the emotions, the passion and lust that seemed to radiate the entire room casted by a mere couple who were doing what everyone had been doing for centuries. It did not stop her from feeling intrigued by the raw scene before her.
Her mind then wandered as she turned back to the scene, to the man with dark hair who shared the stories of his travels with her, with eyes that lit up when he talked about anything he was passionate about, and a smile. Oh, that smile.
She wanted that with the man who she met a year ago.
"What on earth are you doing?" A low timbre voice whispered into her ear, not wanting to break the spell. She yelped taking a step back, accidentally pressing into him. Her eyes widened as he inhaled sharply, she could feel him…his cock pressing into her hip. His hands gripping her waist as he murmured throatily into her ear. “Careful.”
“What are you doing here?” She questioned before turning to face him, to see him backing away slowly to give her space.
He looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 
“No, I have not. I was simply busy.” A little white lie.
His blue eyes glittered, knowingly. “Avoiding me for too long.”
Turning to the window, she stared at the glass as she pondered. Something clicked inside of her. She wanted him wholly, betrothed be damned. “Go before they catch us," she told the him after she removed her gaze from it, turning to him, sighing quietly before she ran away, scattering the connection between him and her. She knew what she was going to do once she reached her destination in mind.
And she was secretly hoping he would know where she went.
Grasping the wooden ledge, far away from the house, she rested her left hand onto the roughened surface, and she peered out to the water.
The moon was at its apex, and it casted over the sea making the water glow shimmeringly. 
Her other hand had its mind of its own, tracing across her waist, trailing down to her skirt before lowering towards her knees so she could scrunch up the material away from her legs.
A heat was simmering low in her abdomen once she grabbed the material in her hand, and she closed her eyes once she dragged her hand back up, lifting the material little by little.
She was supposed to be loyal to her soon-to-be husband; arranged by marriage that was decided the moment before her brother left for Essex journey. However, she could just have that with Matthew if he would allow it to go far between them, she knew there was something implicit growing in between him and her. 
All she could think about was his blue eyes that were a shade of water with ice crusting on surface in the winter, how it darkened when she leaned in, lips inches away from his, and how handsome he looked.
A touch made her gasp once she had reached for her clit, a sound that faded into the air. The sound that people were too far from the grounds to hear, then she had a smile growing on her lips out of pleasure when she stroked herself with her fingers.
Another gasp was made, and the sound disappeared once again.
She then stilled her fingers when she heard footsteps brushing against the dirt pathway.
Her smile only grew deeper, though, and she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in the moonlight.
She felt his presence behind her, his arm was the first part of him that touched her around her waist; then his hand on his other arm found her hand lightly touching herself, he then gripped his fingers on her hand that was somewhat coated with her wetness.
He was pressing against her like he was the cloak that she wore so frequent in the winter. 
"Out in the open? My darling’s bold and daring." He breathed against her ear, pushing his fingers onto hers to stroke herself together. She made another noise in the back of her throat. He then rolled his hips experimentally against her side and suddenly she was aware of just how hard, and large he was through his breeches. She bit down her bottom lip to prevent a gasp coming out of her lungs. “Did you know you wore the same clothing when we first met? Thought you were the prettiest thing in it. Rebellious against society’s proprietary of showing ankles.” His voice held a teasing lilt.
Her hand that was previously gripping her skirt had found its way to gripping the stone ledge as the passion began to build in her abdomen.
"Please," she pleaded quietly. Unashamed by how needy she sounded.
His palm sliding up her side to cup her breast through her dress as his other hand withdrew from her hand to skim along her inner thigh.
"A woman, betrothed to another, is begging for a man's hand to touch her." He whispered, "but a woman begging for a man who feels something for her is something that some people will never experience, wouldn't understand it." He breathed against her skin, lightly biting her neck with his teeth.
A thrill shot through her, from the top of her neck to the base of her spine, headily with lust, she turned around; allowing their hands to fall before she faced him.
They were out in the open. Even if it was dark and even if it was nighttime, there was a chance of them being seen. 
And yet, she did not care.
She took his face in her hands and hungrily kissed him with a desire far stronger than any she had known before.
She then sighed when she withdrew from him, only to kneel down onto the ground, and she then put her hand on the side of her to lay down on her back.
He knelt as well to lean over her form, his eyes positively burning into her soul as he hovered over her.
Then he was pushing her dress up her thighs. His hands skimmed over the bare skin of her thighs like she was made of glass, like he might break her if he grabbed too hard, and the contrast from the quickness of touches was startlingly glaring as she bit her lower lip in anticipation. His fingers found the juncture of her thighs almost immediately, skimming over her undergarments and making her shiver, her hips jerking involuntarily towards him. He continued to finger the edge of her underwear for a moment, before he looked back up at her and pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, then he grazed his lips down over her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts.
His lips lingered there as he slipped his fingers inside of her underwear, and she inhaled sharply, a slight keen noise rose in her throat when he lightly grazed her clit.
Before she could breathe his name, she felt him sliding his index finger into her.
He then slowly started to thrust his fingers in and out of her, drawing a deep shudder out of her body.
She wrapped her thighs around his hips, eyes fluttering closed as she rolled her hips along with the movement of his finger.
"Oh," she moaned aloud, her chest heaving as she fell onto her elbows on the ground covered by the grass, dragging his head along with her.
Using the other hand, he grasped the back of her head and kissed her hard, thrusting another finger inside of her. A surprised noise left her mouth, but she was pleased. 
She spread her legs further, and Matthew moved on top of her. He withdrew his fingers to rub them in a circle against her clit, adding enough pressure to produce another shiver out of her. 
She was shaking, her hands grasping at the back of his head. He pressed his thumb down hard on her clit, and she made her loudest noise yet, a deep tremble reaching through her nerves.
"So wet..." he breathed. "You may be untouched, but you're a little bundle of fire. So passionate. So intense." He let his mouth lingered against the hollow of her neck.
Withdrawing his fingers from her, she moaned in a near protest, but her hips had a mind of its own by rolling up against his.
He buckled, almost collapsing entirely upon her at the unexpected sensation. Matthew buried his head into the side of her neck, muffling his own moan as he pushed himself fully against her in response. She sighed, tightening the grip of her legs around his waist, the feeling of him straining, so solid, beneath his breeches. He hissed and without warning bit her at the curve of her neck to dampen his loud groan that reverberated on her skin.
She felt him undoing his breeches, and she shivered in anticipation. 
Then she felt him sliding into her so powerful, and so passionate that had her arching her back in slight pain but more out of pleasure.
She moaned wantonly as he stilled for a moment, her walls were stretching deliciously around his cock; she was so tight, and he was so big, and she had never felt so full in her very short life.
His head dropping to her shoulder, his body quivering at his display of control.
"Matthew." She said his name quietly in his ear. "I will not break, lose yourself in me like you want to."
He exhaled warm air against the column of her throat, "Y/N."
She then grabbed his jaw gently to bring his face to hers, his eyes were dark blue as he stared at her in the moonlight.
She said almost defiantly, "you approached me with the intention to claim me, so make the statement true." She breathed; desperation twinged in her tone.
There was a long moment as he withdrew slightly, and he looked at her, she gazed back at him then her whole body shook with the impact when he surged forward.
Gasping, she closed her eyes in sheer pleasure.
He withdrew almost all the way, and then slammed himself back to her, and her back arched as his name left her lips. Before she could gather her bearings, he had rammed himself inside her again, and she shouted, fingers clawing into his shoulders at the intense sensation. How full she was when he was inside her, how empty she felt when he withdrew.
Inflaming a reckless abandon that consumed her, had her writhing beneath him, gasping his name, the pleasure he stirred inside her still not enough; she wanted more, impossibly more.
She then gripped at his arms, a deep sound reverberating in her throat. She couldn't moan aloud with his mouth against hers. 
Matthew grasped the bottom of tree stump with his right hand, using it as leverage as he drove into her, and she gripped onto him for her life, biting on her lip to hold back her cries.
"I have had lovers, but none of them compared to you. Never," he said fiercely, rasping against her cheek as he thrusted into her. Their eyes fixed to one another, their breaths coming out raggedly as he continued his excruciatingly thorough pace. "Say you are mine." he murmured, his words firm but his eyes betraying so much more. "Say you will only ever be mine."
He rolled his hips in such a way her eyes momentarily fluttered and closed. "Yours." She breathed. "Forever yours."
"You are mine as much as I am yours," he breathed against her mouth. His hands moved hastily to shove her hair from her face, gathering it to the back of her head and gripped it there with a force that made her cry out in pleasure with a twinge of slight pain that only heightened the pleasure. His mouth found her pulse, kissed her there, her shoulders, her throat, as if he was a man possessed. “I will talk to your brother and end the betrothal myself.” He growled into her skin.
She cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, raking down his back as she sucked in a breath as her walls clenched around his cock. There was an inaudible curse against her neck, and he slid into her again, their hips moving against one another over and over as she finished chasing the high.
He then groaned, grunting her name in her ear as he buried himself in her one last time. She felt his cock pulsing as he came deep inside her.
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agent-carvour · 2 months
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[Schaffer and Axel had both received a phone call from Owen telling them that it was time and he was waiting for them at the WItchwood cabin. While waiting for them to appear, Owen sit's on the cabin's floor, cigarette in one hand, a bunch of hand-written notes in the other, and the black book on the floor in front of him. Instead of his usual jacket, he's wearing a black leather jacket with red stripes on the upper arms and red shoulder pads, and while the bags under his eyes reveal the stress he's been under recently, his eyes look awake, glowing with a confidence that hadn't been there during his last conversation with Schaffer.]
@peip-peeps @agent-black-heart
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smytherines · 15 days
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Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation
We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.
Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.
And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.
At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.
Here's WWII London:
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This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:
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If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.
Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.
Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.
I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.
But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.
I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.
Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.
I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.
This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me
I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them
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hbyrde36 · 5 days
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Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)
CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7
Chapter 8: Master of Puppets
WC: 5053 | AO3 link
Eddie woke to the sound of a phone ringing in the distance and his head throbbing. 
He rolled over, cracking one sore and puffy eye open to find himself surrounded. The two boys were already up—Max and Erica too. A graveyard of empty cereal bowls lined the coffee table in front of them, while Saturday morning cartoons played quietly on the TV. 
Despite how miserable he felt, something about seeing these kids just… being kids, filled him with a surge of renewed affection for the little shits, and reminded him of all the countless reasons he had to not fuck this up again.
He drug himself up off the couch, grunting with the effort like a 90 year old man with aching bones and deteriorated joints, and made his way to the kitchen—called by the siren-smell of good strong coffee. Steve appeared in the doorway as he approached, watching the scene just as Eddie had with a fond look in his eyes. He held two mugs, handing one off with a lopsided grin. 
Eddie looked down at the drink, finding it pale with too much cream for most people’s preference, but exactly how he liked it, and could almost smell the tooth-rotting sweetness of the excessive amount of sugar. It was perfect. How did Steve know?
“I love seeing them like this.” Steve said quietly, taking a sip from his own cup. Eddie didn’t need to look to know his was black. Blasphemy. “They don’t get to do it enough.”
Eddie offered a sad smile, humming his agreement. He looked back over his shoulder at the kids, and could only imagine how three years of fighting interdimensional monsters had cut pretty severely into each of their childhoods. Steve’s too, really. They often got caught up in worrying about the younger teens but Steve would have been what, 16 or 17 when this started? 
Babies, all of them. 
He turned back to say as much, but Steve tipped his head towards the kitchen, beckoning Eddie to follow. 
“That was Joyce on the phone.” Steve began, standing close—too close for so early in the morning when Eddie’s defenses were down, speaking low to make sure no one else overheard, the rumbling tone of his voice threatening to set Eddie’s skin on fire. 
“Owens’ people are sending a car to pick them all up, today.”
“What about Hopper?” Eddie whispered.
Steve sighed. “Well, she had to tell the Doc a little about our situation to explain why she was contacting him.”
“How’d that go?”
“She said he was weirdly accepting of the whole time loop thing, almost like he wasn’t surprised? Which, I guess they do research all kinds of weird shit in those labs, and he’s worked with kids like El for years, so maybe it just wasn’t all that unexpected. He knew some things about Vecna—Henry, whatever. Once they got talking she decided to tell him about the ransom note too, figuring he might have the resources to get Hop out, and they certainly owe us at least this much. He said they would handle it.” 
He shrugged, clearly trying to appear unconcerned, but suddenly wouldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie knew him too well by now to be fooled. Something was bothering him about all this, even if he was trying to pretend like he was fine. 
“It’s okay if you’re worried. I know you don’t exactly trust these people.” Eddie said.
Steve tried to turn away, but like muscle memory Eddie reached out to lay a hand on his upper arm, giving him a knowing look.
“It’s stupid.” Steve said.
Eddie tightened his grip around Steve’s bicep, squeezing reassuringly as he rubbed his thumb back and forth. “I’m sure it’s not.”
“First I was worried about her going out there, and now—I know she’s right, they probably have ways to get to him that are much safer than her and Murray just fucking off to Alaska to meet with god-knows-who, and I’m happy that it’ll keep her out of the line of fire…” 
“But?” Eddie prompted.
“But, if anyone can bring someone back from the presumed dead, it’s Joyce Byers. I don’t know how much you remember from back when Will went missing, but she never gave up. Not when they found a body in the quarry, or when the whole town treated her like she was crazy for believing her son was still alive. Against all odds she fought for him, went into the Upside Down and brought him home. I just… Hopper deserves that. Someone who cares enough to bring him home no matter what.”
This time Eddie couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Steve. At least now the other boy knew they’d been close before—friends. Friends could hug. 
As he had so many times before, he wished he could tell Steve that everything would be okay—but he just didn’t know, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie and offer false words of comfort. 
To his surprise Steve hugged him back, tentative at first, but he quickly melted into Eddie’s embrace as though he were starved for touch. It felt wonderful and devastating all at the same time to touch Steve like this—and to have Steve’s arms around him again too. It was a painful reminder of all that he’d lost, but still he refused to be the one to let go first. 
“Thank you.” Steve said, pulling back and roughly clearing his throat.
All at once Eddie realized how quiet it was. Steve’s headphones sat down around his neck, which wasn’t weird in itself, it was something Eddie had seen Max and Chrissy do whenever their ears needed a break too, but they never let the music stop. Steve's song wasn’t playing at all, and Eddie couldn’t handle watching him be taken like that again. 
He reached up, lifting the earpieces back over Steve's head, fingers itching to caress his cheek as they brushed by. He clenched his fist instead. 
“Your tape stopped.” Eddie said, breathless, his heart hammering inside his chest. 
Steve’s wide eyes never left his face as he nodded absently. There was a sudden tension in the air stretched perilously tight between them and Eddie had to force himself to take a step back before it snapped. 
Shaking himself, Steve finally looked down, popping the tape out of his walkman to flip it and begin again, the volume set as low as it could be, and still be heard. 
Eddie took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” He asked, managing to sound almost normal. 
“The kids should probably go home or something, spend time with their families and stuff before things get worse. We’re still going to need to stock up on weapons, right? Even if El gets her powers back?” Steve asked.       
“Yeah.” 
“Feel like doing some shopping today?”
Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised. It made sense for all the same reasons that it had in the last loop. The War Zone was closed on Sundays, and there hadn’t been a single murder yet in town to raise the alarms with the public or the Hawkins PD. Still, he felt a shiver make its way up his spine at the idea of the past repeating itself. Thinking not only of the store, but what happened after. 
He did his best to push those thoughts way, way down.
“Sure. I’ll let you break the news to your children.”
“Our children.” Steve corrected, grinning.
Fuck.
Eddie gulped, backing his way out of the room, stammering, “I-I’ll go tell Robin and Chrissy t-to get ready.”
-
Predictably, the kids fought back, having no interest in being separated now. As before, they all decided to go to Mike’s together, and it wasn’t until Steve picked up the phone to call and let Nancy know the plan that Eddie realized she and Mike hadn’t come back this morning the way they did last time. Funny how some things changed while others stayed the same, without obvious rhyme or reason. 
The trip to The War Zone went smoothly and pretty much as Eddie recalled. He’d racked his brain on the drive there, wondering if there was anything they could have used more or less of. Fire seemed to be the most effective weapon against the creatures of the Upside Down, so the molotov cocktails were still a good choice. 
If only they could source an actual flamethrower. 
Ultimately he didn't think any different number or type of weapons would be what turned the tides. This thing would come down to a battle of wills, he’d bet his life on it. 
Nancy got quiet as they were unloading the supplies after returning from the store, and Eddie could almost hear the gears turning over in her mind. It was no surprise to him when she eventually spoke up. 
“I want to go look for Fred.” She began, holding up a hand before anyone could argue. “And I know what you’re going to say. If we couldn’t find him last time what’s the point—but you said his body turned up in the trees behind his house right?”
“Yeah,” Eddie replied. “Sometime overnight or early in the morning they found him.”
“Okay so, that’s a clue we didn’t have before, and a place I’m sure I wouldn’t have looked.”
“How about this—the three of us,” Robin jumped in, indicating Nancy, Chrissy, and herself, “can go for a fun-filled hike in the woods, and we’ll leave you two here to hold down the fort in case Joyce or Eleven calls.” 
She met Eddie’s gaze, winking at him like she was doing him a favor. He grit his teeth and scowled. How she’d caught on already that there was anything going on between him and Steve, he had no idea.
…Not that there was anything going on since he was doing everything in his power to stay far far away from that possibility right now.
Steve didn't seem to notice their little exchange, thankfully, and was only watching the three girls with obvious concern. “If that's what you want to do. Just… be safe, okay?”
“Always.” Robin said, giving Steve a pat on the shoulder before getting back into the car with Nancy and Chrissy. 
The anxiety Eddie had already been soaking in all day reached a critical level as he and Steve were left home alone together, and more than once he found himself obsessively staring at the spot on the kitchen floor where he’d first held Steve, as he fell apart after Vecna had so ruthlessly attacked him on this same afternoon in another life.   
He had to find some way to distract himself or he was going to lose it.
There was only one surefire way to settle at least some of his nerves, but Eddie was too afraid to go outside and smoke—afraid to let Steve out of his sight for even a second actually, and so when he wandered away from him—for the dozenth time—to the living room, Eddie had no choice but to follow. As he did he recalled the bag of tapes he knew was stashed in the entertainment center—bingo.
He moved to the cabinet and pulled it out, digging for the only decent film among the bunch, not caring that he’d just watched The Goonies a week ago. Ironically, he thought the familiarity of it might even offer him some comfort. He glanced back over his shoulder to ask Steve if he minded, only to find him with his headphones off and silent, again. 
“Dude, how many times—” Eddie stomped across the room, his concerned frustration at Steve's carelessness spilling over to rage. 
How hard was it to keep a fucking tape going? 
He reached for the walkman clipped to the other boy’s waistband and yanked it off him—huffing as he popped the tape out, flipped it over, and shoved it back in, jamming his finger into the play button so hard he almost broke the damn thing, before shoving it back into Steve’s hands. 
“It needs to be playing to work, asshole, and you really need to start keeping those on your ears more.” He flicked the hanging cord of the headphones as he leveled Steve with a hard glare. 
“It’s–they–they’re uncomfortable.” Steve mumbled in half-hearted defense of himself.
It occurred to Eddie suddenly that this had never been a problem for Steve before. He’d never forgotten to keep his tape running, and never once had he complained about having to wear the headphones. 
He narrowed his eyes. “Really, Harrington? Because I’m finding it hard to believe that you can’t deal with a little mild discomfort to keep that fucking monster at bay after all the other shit you’ve endured.”
“Okay, fine. Just… listen, If Vecna doesn’t attack me before we go after him, how can we be sure I’ll be on his radar—that he’ll take me as bait?”
“Wait, were you–were you leaving the music off on purpose so he could get to you? What the fuck, Steve?!” Eddie shouted.
“What was your plan then, huh? To make Chrissy play the lure? How is that fair?!” Steve yelled right back. 
Eddie honestly hadn’t thought it through that far yet, and maybe Steve had a point. He certainly didn’t relish the idea of poor Chrissy being put on the chopping block again, but this certainly wasn’t the answer.
“It’s not fair to you either!” Eddie growled. “It’s not fair, period!”
“I can handle it!” Steve bellowed, smacking himself in the center of his chest. “And if it’s gotta be someone—why not me, huh? At least I have experience with this stuff! At least El knows me a little! If this whole thing winds up hinging on her piggybacking in someone's brain again, isn’t it better—easier if it’s someone she knows?!”
Again Eddie was brought up short. He shook his head—he couldn’t argue with the bulk of Steve’s logic, but–
“You don’t know what you're signing yourself up for! You have no idea what he’s capable of! Steve, don’t do this to–”
“Why does it matter so much to you if he takes me anyway?!”
Eddie recoiled, feeling the force of Steve’s words like a slap in the face.  “What? What do you mean why? Steve, you’re my—” He snapped his mouth shut, fighting to retain control of himself even as he spiraled further into panic. 
“We’re friends. I care about you.”
Right in front of his eyes, Steve’s face hardened into a cruel mask. 
“Friends,” Steve mocked with a bark of laughter, mouth twisting into an unfriendly smile. “We’re not friends, not really—you do realize that right? If you hadn’t gotten yourself caught up in all this, I would have never said two words to you. Why would I?”
All the blood drained from Eddie’s face. It felt like he’d been kicked off the edge of a cliff. 
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t thought of himself. A nagging fear in the back of his mind, that any feelings Steve was developing for him were circumstantial at best, nothing that would stand up to any sort of test—that it wasn’t real. That Steve had only clung to him because he was there—convenient and willing. 
He’d thought, after the kiss– 
Well, he’d started to hope he was wrong. Almost believed it when Robin gave him so much shit for doubting Steve when they’d spoken in the woods. But here it was in front of him. Proof that he’d been right to worry. 
“Honestly,” Steve went on, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’ve only been pretending to be nice to you so you’ll help us. Why else would I ever want to be associated with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”
“Wh–what are you saying?”
Eddie’s eyes grew wet, hot tears threatening to fall. Oh god, what an idiot he’d been. 
“Poor thing,” Steve cooed at him, all pouting lips and false sympathy. “You should know, when you told me you were gay?” He paused, shuddering. “I was completely repulsed. I had to pretend otherwise of course, so you’d cooperate, but it made me sick having to lay next to you night after night.”
“Wait, I didn’t…” Eddie breathed, a barely audible whisper. “But, that didn’t happen this time.”
Something was very, very wrong here. 
He started to slowly back up, eyes darting between the doorway to the kitchen and the hall leading to the front door, trying to calculate his best move.  
“You’re not Steve.”
“Not quite.” The thing that wasn’t Steve smirked, folding his hands together locked behind his back. “Hello, Eddie. We meet at last.”
He was still wearing Steve’s face, but the voice coming out of his throat was becoming something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.
Any relief Eddie felt for the fact that it hadn’t really been Steve saying those awful things to him was overshadowed by the terror of meeting his enemy in person for the first time, and in his own domain no less.
“Fuck you.” Eddie spat, projecting a bravery he absolutely did not feel. 
Steve—Vecna began to pace a slow circle around him. “I don’t know how you’ve managed this trick, sending yourself back in time over and over again, but it’s no matter. I’ve seen what’s in your head now. I know what you and Eleven and all your little friends have planned. It won’t work.”
A guitar riff Eddie would never forget, even if he lived a thousand lifetimes, began to fill the air around him. Someone, somewhere was playing Master of Puppets for him—trying to pull him out of this place. Trying to save him. Hope blossomed in his chest as he thought about what Chrissy had described seeing the first time he’d successfully pulled her out of her trance, and searched around frantically for any signs of an opening or portal. 
Either unable to hear the music or uncaring that Eddie was in the process of being rescued, Vecna kept taunting him. 
“Of course, you already know that, having failed so many times before. I wonder why it is you even continue to try and fight the inevitable. This is your fate, Eddie, and his.” The monster gestured to himself, to the suit of familiar skin he wore, drawing Eddie’s attention back. 
The eyes—Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes that Vecna had stolen to use against him rolled back and began to bleed. With a loud crack his jaw dislocated, hanging loose, mouth gaping open in a silent scream. Another snap and his arm bent back the wrong way, broken.
Eddie choked back a sob, his heart shattering into even smaller pieces as he witnessed first hand what he already knew Steve had gone through, knowing he'd never be able to scrub the image from his mind. 
“The sooner you accept that, the sooner your suffering will come to an end.” The words spilled forth from the gaping maw that Steve’s mouth had become.
Eddie cried out, screaming his pain wordlessly.
The music picked up suddenly, getting louder as the song reached its middle, giving Eddie the strength to look away—and finally he spotted it, a faint glow like the promise of sunshine coming in through an open window, emanating from somewhere behind Vecna, through the doorway to the kitchen. 
He took a few stumbling steps back, the disfigured visage of Vecna-Steve following his every move, and faked a run for the front door, pivoting at the last second to switch direction down the hallway, entering the kitchen from its other side and dove into the hazy mirage head first without hesitation. 
-
Eddie came-to with a shuddering gasp. He was on the floor, headphones shoved over his head and Metallica blasting in his ears. Strong arms circled him from behind, rocking him gently as a soft voice mumbled the same three words over and over again. 
“Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.”
“Stevie?” Eddie wheezed, out of breath and a little disoriented from his sudden fall back to reality. Which was saying something, considering he’d died and come back as many times as he had. He reached up, hesitantly pulling the headphones down around his neck. 
“Oh my god.” Steve let out a rush of breath, sounding relieved as he slid himself around to Eddie’s side, still cradling him in his arms. He looked Eddie up and down, as if assessing him for physical damage, a haunted look in his eyes.
“You’re okay?” Steve said. Part statement, part question.  
When he didn't answer right away Steve pursed his lips, concern evident on his face as he raised a hand up to gently brush the tears from Eddie’s wet cheeks. He hadn’t even known he was crying.
Eddie blinked up at him, caught between wanting to bury himself in the other boy’s chest, and the instinct to shove him away. He had Vecna’s vicious words stuck in his head now, replaying over and over again.
He knew it wasn’t real. Steve hadn’t said those things, would never have said those things. They weren’t his thoughts or feelings even if they were said with his voice. Eddie knew all of that, but still it was enough to taint what little comfort he might have allowed himself to take from Steve’s embrace.
That bastard had stolen Steve's face and used Eddie’s own insecurities against him, and it’d worked like a fucking charm. 
He sat up slowly, pushing Steve away with a firm hand on his chest. Steve frowned, actually tried to push back for a moment, to keep holding Eddie, before realizing what he was doing and backed off to give him space.  
“Is that… that was Vecna, right?” Steve asked. 
“Yeah, it was him.” Eddie pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes hard enough to see stars. If only it would erase the image of Steve’s broken form from his mind.   
“I’m so sorry.”
Eddie dropped his hands from his face abruptly to stare at the other boy. “What do you have to be sorry for?” He asked, incredulous.
“You tried to tell me how bad it was and I–I argued with you. That was the most terrifying few minutes of my life, and I was going to force you to watch that—again! How many times did you have to watch it happen to Chrissy? To me? I’m such an asshole” Steve closed his eyes, sniffling as he shook his head. “I’d still rather it be me than you, or Chrissy, or any of the kids, but it was… selfish of me to put you in the position to have to save me again on purpose. So, I’m sorry” 
“It’s not—you’re not selfish, and you’re not an asshole either.” Eddie sighed heavily. “And I hate to admit it, but you may have had a point. We can’t bait Vecna with something he doesn’t want, someone he isn’t actively after. I guess now that someone’s gonna be me.”
“How will that work? You’re just as much of a stranger to El as Chrissy is.”
Eddie tightened his jaw, readying himself for another fight, but Steve quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I'm not–I'm not trying to—I'm just raising a concern.”
“I’m not letting anyone else go through that if we don’t have to, ok? We’ll ask El about it when we can, and go from there.”
Steve nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”
-
Steve searched through his closet and dug up his old walkman for Eddie to use since he’d given his own up for Chrissy. There was nothing wrong with it, just an outdated model. A new pair of batteries and he was all set.
They made Eddie’s tape in relative silence, save for the music itself which they kept turned low to save his head—a side effect of the Vecna attack being a massive fucking headache.
The girls returned a few hours later, looking completely dejected and exhausted. They still hadn’t been able to find Fred.
Nancy didn’t stay long, wanting to get back to her own house to keep an eye on the kids, and it wasn’t until she left that the other two noticed the change in Eddie, and what he now wore over his head. 
Chrissy came up to him first, throwing her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek on his chest. “Oh no, Eddie, you too?”
He hugged her back, and as bad as the day had been, he couldn’t help smiling to himself a little. He’d been so sure that he had ruined any chance of friendship with her this time around, but the easy affection gave him hope that it wasn’t a lost cause just yet. 
“I’m okay, Chris.” He assured her as they separated. “Harrington had my back.”
-
In a bid for normalcy, and while they had nothing better to do, Steve ordered some takeout for all of them to share while Eddie put his movie on—hours later than intended, but better late than never. 
He tried to enjoy it—the food, the conversation, hanging out with these people he’d come to care for like family—but his heart was in the past. Instead of the TV screen in front of him he saw Steve fighting off a grin as he’d watched Eddie flutter around the kitchen cooking for them. In place of the drink in his hand, he felt the warm press of Steve’s palm in his, remembering the way he’d laced their fingers together and held on all the way upstairs that night. 
Giggles coming from the other side of the room were what brought Eddie back to the present, and he glanced over to see that Chrissy and Robin had drifted awfully close to one another on the couch they shared, even resting their heads together as he watched.  
Not thinking he nudged Steve's shoulder with his own to point it out, wondering when they themselves had gotten this close, and tilted his head in the girls direction. 
Steve glanced over, smiling at first but then his body went visibly tense, eyes guarded as he looked back at Eddie.
Oh.
“You don’t have to worry I–” Eddie only barely managed to stop himself from coming out, though he wasn’t sure why, and changed course mid sentence. “I'm cool with—Robin. I just think it’s sweet that they’re getting close again.”
Steve took him at his word, relaxing immediately. “Again?” He whispered back excitedly.
Eddie nodded and went back to watching the girls, glad that this particular thing was a staple of the loops. 
Once the credits rolled and the girls made their way up to bed, Eddie helped Steve clean up, picking up trash and carrying their few dishes to the sink. He fled as soon as they were done, saying a quick goodnight before rushing to the downstairs bathroom to change and laying himself down on the couch, the big one this time. Dustin had been right, it was a lot more comfortable. 
He assumed he’d gotten away with it, that Steve had already gone up the stairs, but less than a minute later Steve came striding into the room carrying two blankets. He tossed one to Eddie before wrapping the other around himself, and settled down on the other couch. 
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“Steve.”
They both sat up, staring daggers at each other from across the room.
Steve broke the standoff first. “I don’t think you should be alone. What if something happens, or your tape runs out? Since you seem to have something against sleeping in a bed with me again, I figured I'd just join you down here. It’s fine.”
“Fuck’s sake.” Eddie grumbled. 
So much for keeping this one boundary, but he’d manage somehow. He suspected Steve still felt like he must have done something wrong before, and Eddie couldn’t live with him feeling guilty over something that wasn’t his fault. And, he supposed, there was no use in both of them sleeping on couches when there was a perfectly good bed upstairs.
Eddie reluctantly got up, flinging a throw pillow at Steve’s smug face as he did. “Come on then, big boy. Lead the way.”
-
In the familiar comfort of Steve's room, Eddie laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling, hugging his side of the bed to keep as much space as possible between them. He was exhausted from the attack, from the day in general, but his heart pounded as he found himself surrounded by all things Steve. His scent on the sheets, his pillow under Eddie’s head, his clothes strewn about the room.
He breathed it all in deep, and, still keeping his eyes pointed forward, finally dared to ask the question.
“How did you know what song to play for me?”
Steve shifted around, turning on his side to face him. 
“It was the tape from your Walkman. The kids took it out last night after they made Chrissy’s and left it sitting out on the table. It was a lucky guess, really. I just hoped that whatever you had been listening to last would work.”
Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. He’d survived by simple chance and dumb luck, and sure he was old hat at dying by now, but it didn't make the idea any less scary. He turned too, meeting Steve's eyes through the dark. 
“Thank you, that was… good thinking.”
“I was so afraid it wouldn’t work. One second we were screaming at each other and then you went so still. Your eyes rolled back and–” Steve’s voice cracked, unable to finish.
“I know.” Eddie whispered. And he did know, far too well, what it was like to feel so powerless.
He started to reach out, wanting so badly to cup Steve’s cheek or pull him close, but let his hand drop to the bed between them mid-motion. Steve slid his own hand closer, inch by inch until their pinkies touched, and then oh-so-slowly, he tucked his whole hand under Eddie's, entwining their fingers and gripping him tight. 
“I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t worked.”
Eddie swallowed a whine, praying Steve couldn't hear it, and squeezed back. He didn’t have the strength to pull away, though he knew with every touch came the potential to break him beyond repair. 
Chapter 9 (coming 3/31)
Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.
Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜
Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch @lawrencebshoggoth @stillfullofshit @lil-gremlin-things @mamafaithful @klausinamarink @starlight-archer
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reasonandempathy · 1 month
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A brief summary of how Education fails Boys
I saw people sincerely questioning and minimizing the current struggles boys face in education.
So, I wanted to collect some relevant information, with sources. All of these are from the past couple of years, from 2021 onward.
Girls have more difficulty accessing education and are more likely than boys to be out of school at primary level. However, boys are at greater risk of repeating grades, failing to progress and complete their education, and not learning while in school. Globally, 128 million boys are out of school. That’s more than half of the global out-of-school youth population and more than the 122 million girls who are also out of school. The Leave no child behind: Global report on boys’ disengagement from education shows that boys are increasingly left behind in education. They are at greater risk of repeating grades, failing to progress and complete their education, and not learning while in school. While previously boys’ disengagement and dropout were concerns mainly in high-income countries, several low- and middle-income countries have seen a reversal in gender gaps, with boys now lagging behind girls in enrolment, completion and learning outcomes. Boys are more likely than girls to repeat primary grades in 130 countries, and more likely to not have an upper secondary education in 73 countries. At tertiary level, globally only 88 men are enrolled for every 100 women. 
In 1970, women only made up 42 percent of the college population. Today, the roles have essentially reversed. The U.S. Department of Education estimates men to make up 43 percent of enrolled individuals in college. And this crisis impacts minority populations even more: only 36 percent of Black and 40 percent of Hispanic bachelor degree recipients are male. 
This is not an issue of colleges neglecting to admit men at an equal rate. Rather, colleges are receiving fewer applications from men than women. In 2010, only 44 percent of college applications were from men and that number has been steadily declining since. The decrease in male applicants is a sign that men are discouraged from pursuing higher education at a disproportionately high rate. 
These statistics point to a larger, systemic problem. The American education system perpetuates a series of gender norms that cause significant harm to children; boys are impacted by these expectations in a way that tends to be overlooked. The stereotype that boys have a higher propensity to misbehave has led to the over-punishment of boys in the classroom.        
Boys are facing key challenges in school. Inside the effort to support their success
An APA task force is spotlighting the specific issues and recommending evidence-based ways to enact swift change At school, by almost every metric, boys of all ages are doing worse than girls. They are disciplined and diagnosed with learning disabilities at higher rates, their grades and test scores are lower, and they’re less likely to graduate from high school (Owens, J., Sociology of Education, Vol. 89, No. 3, 2016; Voyer, D., & Voyer, S. D., Psychological Bulletin, Vol. 140, No. 4, 2014; “The unreported gender gap in high school graduation rates,” Brookings, 2021). These disparities persist at the university level, where female enrollment now outpaces male enrollment by 16% (Undergraduate Enrollment, National Center for Education Statistics, 2022). “The gap between boys and girls is apparent from very early on,” said developmental psychologist Ioakim Boutakidis, PhD, a professor of child and adolescent studies at California State University, Fullerton. “The disparities not only exist across the board—from kindergarten all the way to college—but they are growing over time.” For boys of color, that gap is even larger. They face suspension and expulsion from school at almost five times the rate of their White male classmates and are even less likely to finish high school or college (“Exploring Boys’ (Mis)Behavior,” Society for the Psychological Study of Men and Masculinities, 2022 [PDF, 261KB]). The implications of these disparities are huge. Doing poorly at school is strongly associated with major challenges later in life, including addiction, mental and physical health problems, and involvement with the criminal justice system—problems that also have ripple effects on society at large. In the United States, getting at least a college degree may be the one remaining, relatively stable ticket to a decent life, Boutakidis said.
In a recent New York Times essay, “It’s Become Increasingly Hard for Them to Feel Good About Themselves,” Thomas Edsall reviews a variety of research studies highlighting the plight of young men in the United States. As a front-line educator who has worked in boys’ schools for 30 years and served as the head of a boys’ school for the past 20 years, I’ve been an unhappy witness to this dilemma. Data supports the claim that boys are falling behind, and dramatically so. For example, there is a growing gender gap in high school graduation rates. According to the Brooking Institution, in 2018, about 88% of girls graduated on time, compared with 82% of boys. For college enrollment, the gender gap is even more striking, with men now trailing women in higher education at record levels. Last year, women made up 60% of college students while men accounted for only 40%, according to statistics from the National Student Clearinghouse. College enrollment in the United States has declined by 1.5 million students over the past five years, with men accounting for 71% of that drop.
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jackiequick · 11 months
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Operation Baby Rescue - Fast & Furious Fic 🏁 (Part 2)
Val Toretto x Deckard Shaw
Check out the backstory to the character and couple here
Operation Baby Rescue / Fast & Furious Fic 🏁 (Part 1)
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Val reread the note more than twice and groans, can’t believe what she just read onto the real reason why Dom kept working with the bad side of the story. She has his son. She took a breath and looked up at Santos who pointed with a smile to take a look in the back.
She nodded and busted open the door, stepping inside to see a rather older woman she hasn’t seen before hanging over Deckard’s body. “How lovely..” Val mutter and took a seat across from her, with the man in question in the smack middle of them. “Sorry, haven’t met you before..who are you?” She asked.
The older woman gave her a cheeky grin and shook her head. “Bloody idiot didn’t think of mentioning me to anyone, did he?” Said the woman sending a small glare to Deckard’s unconscious face then glance back at her, “I’m Magdalene Shaw, dear.”
“Sh-Shaw? As in his mother, Shaw.”
“Ah, so you heard of me?”
“He mentioned his mother once or twice. Nice to finally meet the face to the name.”
Mama Shaw smiled, “You’re prettier than your brother said and humorous, i like you. Too bad my idiot son, didn’t bother to tell me about you!”
Val snickered and nod, “We should make plans for a lovely brunch, just the two of us. Let’s wake up him.”
Magdalene Shaw took a syringe stabbing it into her son’s chest. Deckard gasp glaring at her, “Jesus mom, your supposed to avoid the nerves!”
“Oh shut up.” Replied his mother, putting the syringe away, “Don’t be such a baby. That’s for also not telling me about her.”
“What?”
Deckard’s upper body slowly turned to his left, his eyes widen at the sight and groaned, “Oh hell..”
“Not happy to see me, Deck?” Asked Val, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed waving at him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Clearly Dom didn’t tell you, I’m coming.”
“Of course he’ll ask his sister. I’m guessing you met mom.
“She’s lovely, we’re having brunch if we survive this.”
“Oh no..”
His mother smirked, “Oh yes. That’s what you get for not introducing me to her earlier!”
“We’ll discuss this later! Did Toretto hold up his end of the deal?” He asked, looking at both woman.
Magdalene held up a communication device, that looked like a smart watch to track Cipher with. “But you can’t do this on your own, it’s got to be 3 of you.” She explained.
“Fine, we got contacts.” Deckard said with a shrug.
“No, you’re taking your brother. Toretto knows where he is, it’s called the devil’s bumhole or something.”
~~~
Val tried not to laugh as she corrected her, “It’s called God’s eye. And we’ll take Owen.”
“No we’re not! He’s a lost cause.” Deckard remarked, not liking the idea.
“He’s your brother, Deck.”
“Yeah so?”
“We should take him, we need someone to help as back up.”
“I can call one of my guys back home, get the job done much easier.”
His mother added onto Val’s response and started to cry, “He’s your brother. My son, your family. And our family don’t die, bloody..how can you talk like that about Owen i can’t believe you! You gone and upset me, why can’t you just listen to us and..”
Deckard sigh looking around and said, “Oh come, mom. Ok, I’ll take him!”
Mama Shaw grinned knowing her son fell for that trick every time and wink at Val. “He’s too easy.” She said, slapping her son’s chest, “Now, how long have you two been together?”
“Oh mom!” Deckard exclaimed annoyed and slightly embarrassed at the question, taking Val’s hand, “This is why I didn’t want you to meet her.”
“How long, Deck?”
“Since 2011. It’s been a going on for a while now, we’ve all seen each other every couple times a year.” Val answering and chuckling brightly, squeezing her boyfriend’s hand.
His mother gasp, “How long were you gonna hide this from me? You’re own mother! Have i’ve not taught you anything?”
“Mom, I didn’t think i needed to tell you. I was prison for more than 2 years, for god’s sake!” Deck tried to explained and sigh, “..I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“At least kiss the sweet girl, she must’ve thought you were dead for half a day. Us women deserve more from you Deck.”
“I can handle this. You two meeting wasn’t on my agenda for this..”
~~~
Val leaned forward watching the two and smirked, “She’s right, you scared the shit of me after Dom fake shot you.”
“You’re just as worse. Come here, you.” Deck said as he rolled his eyes and cupped her cheeks pressing his lips onto hers, giving each other a taste of how much they missed each other, “I’m sorry, we couldn’t tell you.”
“It’s alright. I must’ve known Dom was planning something else involving you and the team.”
“I promise we’ll go on another vacation after this, your choice.”
“Let’s get to work then.”
——
Val packed up her guns and the carrier, waiting for the Shaw brother to stop bickering. “Boys! Seriously?” She yelled, looking at the clock.
“Sorry, love. We’re planning out who flies first.” Deck replied and kiss her cheek.
“I still can’t believe i get called back to action, to see my brother in a relationship with what used to be my enemy.” Owen said looking over and scoffed.
“Shut it.”
Within 4 minutes, they stood up and out of the drop zone. Placing their helmets, as they flew behind and beyond the plane that belong to Cipher. Owen in front opening the back of the plane as the three of them stumbled onto the track, holding onto crates closing the back door.
Removing their helmets, Val took a breath, fixing her handheld set and pushing hair out of her face. The brother talked quickly, Val instructed Owen to take the pilots while her and Deck searched. Cipher got alerts about them being on the plane right now and got pissed.
“Surprise.” Deckard said looking over his shoulder at the security camera and the next two smirked. The doors open as the 3 shot down a few agents Deckard instructed Owen to wait for his signal before following Val down the halls safety.
The two ran down the hall fighting a few guards reaching the room, that carrier the package. Owen signaled his brother that they’re in position, Deckard slide open the door as Val’s jaw dropped at the very package in front of her. A bouncing baby boy in his crib babbling, reaching his hands in the air.
“Hello chulo, hi. I’m your Tia Val.” She said calling him ‘cutie’ in Spanish as he gushed at her making grabby hands.
Without a second later she picked him, bouncing him on her hip. He curled comfortably into her chest. She nuzzled her cheek onto his head, “You’re so cute. Deck i think i want one.”
Deck chuckled as the baby boy grabbed his finger and he replied, “We’ll see about that, love. He’s a very handsome boy, seems to like us. A happy kid, for sure.”
He opened a comm link to Dom, waiting for the other line. Once he did, Deckard announced, “We got the package, Toretto. All 12 pounds of him.”
As he did, the baby smile bouncing and babbling, “Ya!..yeahhh da..dada..da.”
The two chuckled at him, in love with the kid already. Val can only imagine the sigh of relief on Dom’s face as she cradles the little guy in her arms. Deckard smiled at the two of them, cooing at the kid, imagining his lady as a mom one day.
Deckard placed the baby boy in a carrier, covering his ears with headphones as the kid just softly smiled at him. He turned up the volume of the music being Alvin and The Chipmunks. Val gave him a look, “Seriously? That song?”
“What? He like it.” Deckard replies turning back to the baby, “You good?”
The baby boy just made a satisfying sound as if to say, ‘yeah i love this song. We’re good.’ Val cracked a laugh, placing a kiss on her nephew’s forehead before nodding towards the door with her gun.
Deckard looked down with a soft look of reassurance to the boy and said, “Alright little man, this might be a little scary but its’ gonna be a lot of fun.”
—-
Once the door open, Deckard held the carrier jabbed and punched a two men as Val pointed her gun shooting down two more. The two took cover, switching off who gets the carry the boy next. Like a game of hop potato. “How’s the music? Good?” Deckard asked the kid, who was in his own little world waving a hand in the air replying to his question.
Val pinned and kicked a few men off balance and onto the glass table, even shot once in the chest, satisfying herself. Deckard scoffed dragging one across the bar on the wall, slamming him against a few glass as he shot a few others.
“Going for a ride.” He said, sliding the carrier over to her, as Val catches it with her foot like a Soccer ball.
She heard her nephew giggle which cause the girl to smile in return, “You like that, huh kiddo?” Val slide the carrier in between a few seats safely, “Back in a sec, keep watch.”
Deckard and Valentina stood back to back, holding up their gun to the soldiers who glared at them, they shot down two. Deck leaned forward, causing her back to rest against his, holding Val securely spinning around as she kicked a few steps onto the soliders. Once he dropped her onto the ground, Deckard dodged a few punches swiftly whooping a couple of asses successfully along the way, eventually throwing one across the room breaking the glass shelf in between them.
Val dodged a couple of punches and switch places using items such a bowl to slam a few heads. She crouched down in front of the carrier, “Where’s that handsome smile?” Baby Toretto smiled brightly listening to his music. “There is it!” She added, picking up the carrier blocking a couple of bullets, spinning to shoot the very who shot at her.
“How dare you shoot a baby? No respect!” Val scoffed and looked over shoulder jokingly signaling him, “You heard Deck?”
Deckard peeked his head from the other side of the wall after punching some guy. He scoffed at the man, “You were gonna shoot a baby? You sick bastard!”
He turned the carrier toward windows and stepped over to the male guard with a smug smirk slamming his head into a table multiple times until he passed out while fighting off two more.
Val noticed a huge guard charging at them and she scoff in annoyance, “Ugh! Another one of you? Aren’t you tired yet of this game?!” The man flipping her over and slammed her against the table, swinging her around like a rag doll as glass shattered around her as Val tries to fight him.
Before he can get a strong shot at her, Deckard came in swinging and slammed the man across the room yelling, “Hands off, asshole!”
He quickly pulled her up from the ground checking her face. Concern was laced in his eyes, scanning for any damage aside from the hits they already took to the head. “Are you okay? Did the bastard hurt you badly?” Deck asked.
“N-no, I’m alright I think..” Val reply noticing a few cuts on her man’s shoulders from the fight, “Are you okay?”
“Ah, I’ll live. We’ll get bandage up later.”
“Yeah, and next time you take the big guy.”
The two crack a few smiles, running over to the baby carrier to check their special package, making sure no more guards or soldiers coming in anytime soon.
Deckard wink at her before checking on Baby Toretto with a soft smile, “How we doing, buddy? Good?” The baby was clapping his hands with the brightest toothless grin he ever seen.
“There’s that handsome smile!” Added Deck grinning from ear to ear, before looking back at his lady, “I love the little guy.”
“Me too. He’s one of the funnest rescue I’ve ever had.” Val joked, making a silly face toward her nephew who giggles in return.
Val walked into the room that held Cipher holding the gun straight to her face, a piercing look laced with such attitude and seriousness. “You bitch.” Is all she said at the blonde in braids.
“Fair. How did you find me?” Cipher asked, noticing Deckard walking in behind her holding his gun with a glare and gentle placed down the baby carrier.
Deckard smirked as hee answered the question, “A friend gave us a tip.” He revealed Dom’s famously worn cross necklace, tossing it over to his lady, who caught it.
“Clever.” Cipher said with a smirk, “You’re also out of bullets, Deckard.”
“Like i need a gun to take care of you.”
“Also very resourceful, I’ll give you that.”
“You have a lot to answer for Cipher. What you put both of ours families though, my mother. I’mma make sure that never happens again. Not to anyone ever again!”
“You should know by now, you messed with the wrong crew. Especially when my brother’s really calling the shots around here.” Val added, “It’s simple really, stop you for the damage you caused.”
Cipher scoffed, “Only one fault in your pretty plan.”
“What’s that?” Deck asked, with a glare.
“Only one of us has a parachute.”
Within not even a matter of seconds, Cipher grabbed the raven black backpack that held a parachute inside, opening the doors flying out. Val raced after her causing her to almost hit her fist and slip out of the plane, gasping and yelling out in frustration at losing Cipher. Deckard noticed the baby carrier sliding towards the door as he jumped to grab it quickly, but almost being able to reach the buttons to shut the door.
He grunted as he noticed her almost slipping out of the door, Deckard reached towards her forgetting about closing the door for a moment and pulled her back. Once Val was near the doorframe of the bay, she grunted pushing the baby carrier away safely as both their feet hit the button to shut off the plane door, sliding down closing them in safety.
Deckard lays with his back against the floor and banged his fist against the wall, “Damn it.”
“We tried.” Val responded with a annoyed sigh, laying down next to him.
“No more racing after the enemy.”
“Or planes for a while.”
“Agreed.”
The two stayed there for a moment to catch their breath, with a slight smile but those smiles only grew once they heard a sudden giggle and sweet babbles.
Val sat up first pulling the baby carrier towards them chuckling, “What you laughing at, huh?”
“Told you this will be fun.” Deckard added with a chuckle and winked at the baby.
Baby Toretto giggled some more looking up at them with huge chocolate brown eyes that reminded Valentina so much of Dom and Elena. She remembered Elena she called the sweet baby boy Marcos as a middle name but Dom should be the one to give him a first name. She adored the name Baby Marcos Toretto but she was also interested to see what name Dom picked out for him.
The baby giggles once again, snapping her out of her thoughts. Deckard’s voice that held a smile caught her attention as well, talking to Baby Toretto with a quick wink. He stood up, lifting up the carrier with him and informing his brother to talk to the pilot to land soon. She watched Deck take Marcos out of the carrier and bounce him in his arms chuckling. It made Val wonder how Deck would be as a father one day, seeing him being so sweet and loving towards the baby.
“You alright?” He asked, reaching out his hand to help her off the floor as he carried the baby with the other.
She took it and stood up, “Huh? I’m good.”
“You seemed lost in thought for a moment there.”
“Just seeing you with him, had me thinking about you as a dad.”
Deck smiled and joked eyeing her for a moment, “You’re not pregnant, aren’t you?”
“No!” Val laughed and playfully slapped his arm, “I’ll leave the baby making to my siblings.”
“Okay good, but you will make a good mom one day.”
“And you’ll make a good dad.”
Baby Marcos Toretto had a toothless silly grin waving a hand up and down, as the headphones stayed on his head playing ‘Alvin and The Chipmunks’ on repeat. Val reached out to tickle his belly, then bopping his nose as Deckard bounced him for a moment catching his attention, fixing his headphone.
The pair knew the next few days would be interesting, since they headed off to a select safe house to take care of the boy with Owen’s help while Dom and the crew finished settling the mission for Mr. Nobody.
—-
Thank you so much for reading! What did you think it? Let’s discuss if you like. Please remember to like, comment & share! ✨
Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @t-nd-rfoot @topgun-imagines @ohgodnotagainn @morgan108 @yetanotherwells @hanlueluver @blackheart-beauty @gcthvile @mandylove1000 @rooster-84 and etc
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totowlff · 1 year
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beware the trap
➝ request: could you right a short fic of toto telling the reader everything will be okay and it will all work out, don’t beat yourself down?
➝ word count: 3,6k
➝ warnings: mental breakdown
➝ author’s notes: i haven't written a one-shot for a long time and i was particularly inspired this week. the poem toto is referring to is called beware the trap by kelly mistry. I read it this week and it touched me deeply. finally, remember: do not fall into the trap.
As you stretched after hours of being slouched in front of the computer, your eyes found the clock in the corner of the screen. You ran a hand over your face and rubbed your eyes a bit, because you were sure you weren’t reading it correctly. It was not possible that it was already this late. A second look was enough for you to make sure you weren’t seeing things.
It was past midnight.
You pressed your palms into your eyes and took a deep breath. You were supposed to have left hours ago, when the rest of your team left. But, there you were, sitting at your workstation in your cubicle in the wind tunnel building, which was part of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 Team complex. You’d stayed late, but hadn’t meant to stay quite this late. No reason to leave now, though — it didn’t make any sense, with all of the work you had to do.
“You made us throw a whole year in the bin”, you remembered Mike, your boss, telling you that morning. You leaned back in your office chair as his voice echoed in your head. On the monitor in front of you, the dorsal view of a 3D car model made something feel tight in your chest.
When the new set of technical regulations hit your desk, you, as the chief aerodynamicist, made a point of studying them closely, along with Jordan and Giorgio, two of the best aerodynamicists on your team. Soon, you began to draft concepts, and eventually, your team narrowed it down to two radically different interpretations of the regulations. From the readings you were doing, it seemed that both of them had great potential. 
After running models through the CFD software and running numerous simulations, everything pointed to the idea that you had — the concept of a low, flat sidepod, nicknamed the ‘zeropod’ — being the most efficient from an aerodynamic point of view. It was something definitely different than expected by John Owen, the chief designer, who believed that the car would follow a similar concept to that envisioned by the FIA.
However, the idea you ended up pushing was a bold choice. Your idea of placing the air intakes vertically and more or less glued to the cockpit, with the upper area of the floor designed to direct airflow to the rear wing. In all of the modeling, simulations, and wind tunnel testing, it generated the ideal amount of downforce.
The presentation of the concept was a success. You remembered James Allison smiling as you explained the design, along with all of the calculations and results of the testing that you and your team had done. Aerodynamically, it was your best work, the fruit of many long hours in front of the computer, many cups of coffee, and even the occasional cans of energy drinks that you usually preferred to avoid.
On the day of the W13 presentation, you were sure that you’d delivered your master work, that you would finally be able to make your mark on the team’s history. 
But then, reality came crashing down.
During the shakedown, it was clear that something was wrong. The car was unstable, bouncing wildly and unpredictably. It was something that hadn’t shown up in wind tunnel testing and simulations. 
You had it wrong. Your concept required the car to be run as low to the ground as possible, which caused the floor to scrape and bounce over every miniscule bump on the track, because the suspension also had to be incredibly stiff. The issue could be alleviated by raising the ride height, but that caused the car to run with far too much drag, eliminating its straight-line speed.
 Your masterpiece had turned into a monster.
Every race weekend was torture. The questions, doubts, and stares from your team made you feel like you were in a court of law, going through the longest trial of your life. It was your decision that put the team on the back foot. As much as Toto liked to tell the press that everyone in Brackley and Brixworth was working “flat-out” to unlock the car’s performance, you could tell that your coworkers were losing motivation. Lewis was suffering, George was suffering.
It was your fault. Only you could fix it. 
You started working on the W14 by yourself, almost in complete secrecy. You would come home from work and sit in your office at home, doing calculations and making models for hours. You wanted to fix things, you wanted to offer the team a better car. You wanted to make your idea work.
When you pitched the project to Mike Elliott, he was skeptical. He didn't believe the concept was a good one, it hadn't worked up to that point in the season. You argued, you presented the differences, you showed the points you had reworked, especially on the floor. After reviewing the data and the simulations your had run with Frederik, he seemed more interested.
The presentation of the W14, with the sidepod design you had in mind, was an indication that the technical and sporting team still trusted you to create a car capable of winning championships. You had done it before, and you were sure that this time you had hit the nail on the head with the floor design.
And then, it all came crashing down again.
You took another deep breath and looked at your clock again, clenching your jaw. You hadn't eaten anything since lunch. In your mind, every minute of work counted, especially after what Mike told you that morning. At the same time, your body was begging for something, your stomach rumbling loudly.
You stood up from your chair, stretched your back and shoulders a bit, grabbed your phone and your work badge, and walked out of the aerodynamics offices, and out of the wind tunnel building. You were hoping the cool night air would refresh you, but as you walked slowly to the main building, you felt completely absent from your body. Your mind was too distracted, a swirling maelstrom of numbers from the simulation results of the new design. Your team had affectionately nicknamed the concept ‘WNewey’, as it took cues from the concept used by Red Bull’s car the year before.
Entering the main building, you nodded as you were greeted by the receptionist, and made your way towards the cafeteria, which was strangely empty. You approached the counter, where an employee was sitting, fiddling with her cell phone.
— Hi — you murmured. She stood up and slipped her phone into the pocket of her apron.
— Good evening. What can I get for you?
You looked around, trying to take in what was on offer to eat. Despite how hungry you were, everything just looked like blobs of colors to your tired eyes, and your stomach was churning too much to eat anything.
— Do you have any Monster, or any other energy drinks? — you asked quietly.
— We do. What flavor do you want?
— Dealer’s choice.
The woman went to the refrigerator on the back counter, took out a black can, and placed it on the counter. After scanning your badge and the payment terminal beeping to confirm your payment, you went to one of the tables and sat down. After opening the can and taking a sip of the sugary, syrupy drink, your gaze was lost on the table in front of you.
After a few minutes, you heard someone else walk into the canteen area, but didn’t look up until you heard a familiar voice.
— Good evening, Poppy. Could you make me an espresso, please?
You lifted your head and saw Toto Wolff, the team principal and CEO of the company, standing in front of the counter. He was holding his cell phone, in its fluro yellow case, in one hand, and his badge in another. His posture indicated that he had to be tired, too. His shoulders looked tense under the white dress shirt he was wearing. His sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, as they usually were. 
— Of course, Mr. Wolff. You’re here late. Did you want that with milk?
— No, just sugar, thank you. And you know how it is, remote meetings with Crowdstrike executives in Texas — Toto replied. He turned his head slightly to the side, which allowed you to see his face. He was scratching his forehead with one hand, and scrolling through something on his phone with the other. He seemed tired. Poppy had just set his coffee cup down on the counter as he sighed deeply.
“Another year in the bin”, you thought, as you heard the sound of his badge scanning on the payment terminal. Then, you watched as he took his coffee and turned toward you with a small smile on his lips.
— Ah, good evening, Y/N — he said, his smile fading as he looked more closely at your face — Is everything okay?
You blinked, as you snapped out of your cycle of mental self-flagellation. 
— Yeah, everything is… Fine.
He approached you, seeming to study your expression. His appraising look made you feel somewhat exposed, as if Toto was able to know exactly what you were thinking and feeling at that moment.
— What are you doing here at this hour?
You stayed silent for a few seconds.
— Working. Well, I came to get something to drink, but I'll be heading back to my office in a bit. 
— Wait, weren’t you here this — he hesitated, glancing at the black and teal watch on his wrist — I suppose, yesterday morning?
— Yes.
— What are you still doing here? Aren’t you normally finished at five?
You sighed, pursing your lips.
— I'm working on the car.
— You can do that during the day. You don’t have to stay past midnight, you know.
You looked down at the floor.
— Yes, I do.
— Why?
— Because I — you started to say, but your voice cracked. You took a deep breath to try and compose yourself before continuing. — I need to save our year.
Toto put down his coffee cup and phone next to your drink can and pulled up a chair, sitting next to you. You felt a bit sheepish as you glanced up at him, noticing the concern in his expression.
— Y/N, you're not going to save our year — he said, in a low voice — Simply because there's nothing that needs saving.
You lifted your head, feeling your throat tighten.
— But the car…
— Of course, we're facing difficulties with the car, but it's not going to be one single individual that will solve all of its problems, especially working such long hours by yourself.
You let silence hang between the two of you. You could feel the misery welling up inside you, anger and anguish filling your chest. You felt like you were a ticking time bomb.
— It's all my fault — you stammered, your voice low, your eyes brimming with tears, and your lower lip trembling. He stared at you intently, seemingly trying to process what you'd just said.
— What?
— It's my fault — you repeated, before burying your face in your hands and starting to sob. The anger you felt at yourself for screwing up was painful. It felt like hot, acidic bile in your throat. All you wanted to do was prove yourself, but you threw away all of your team’s hard work, eight years of constructor’s victories, and seven years of driver’s championships, all because you were too invested in the idea of making your damn sidepod concept work, when every race on every circuit across the world was proof that it didn’t.
You were so deep in your misery that you didn't notice the moment when you were wrapped in a pair of arms, nor when a gentle hand came to the back of your head, pressing it into a broad, firm shoulder. You were surprised when you realized that Toto had pulled you into a hug, but it felt like a lifeline, something you needed. You’d been drowning in the feeling that you’d failed for far too long.
After a few more minutes of Toto letting you cry on his shoulder, in the most literal sense, you managed to pull yourself together enough to lift your face and look at Toto again. There was concern in his dark eyes as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your eyes
— Feeling better? — he asked. His voice was gentle and quiet.
— A little — you replied, swiping the back of your hand across your nose as you sniffled.
— Do you want to talk about it?
— About what?
— Whatever is making you cry in the factory canteen past midnight.
Your throat tightened again, but you resisted the urge to cry. “Breathe”, you told yourself, as you struggled to get air into your lungs. After some time, you managed to find your voice steady enough to start talking.
— Well, for starters, the zeropod concept was my idea. I was the one who invested all of my time and energy into it, and convinced everyone to get behind it. Worse than that, I was the one who insisted that we continue working with this concept in the W14, even though it didn't work out — you said, looking at your hands — In the end, I guess Mike is right. I threw this year into the bin.
— What? Mike said that to you?
You looked up at Toto. His expression changed from concern to what looked like irritation. It was unexpected, especially in reference to someone he worked with so closely. 
— Yeah, this morning. We were talking about Bahrain and Saudi Arabia, and he said that the results were disappointing, and that he doesn't understand my insistence on this zeropod concept. I explained that the problem wasn’t the sidepods anymore, but the rear downforce — you hesitated for a moment — He wouldn't listen. He said I threw the team's year in the bin with this and that I should start thinking about doing something different next year.
Silence hung between you again. Toto flexed his jaw, looking thoughtful. It felt a little wrong to sell your boss out to the CEO of the company like that, but your frustration and tiredness was overriding your desire to avoid further conflict with Mike.
— Well, one thing I can tell you definitively is that Mike is wrong, Y/N.
— Toto...
— I understand his frustration, as he is the technical director and everything related to the design of the car comes down on his head. But, our performance this year and last year isn't anyone's fault in particular — he continued, grasping your hands in his — We're a team, Y/N. Everything we do, we do as a team. You came up with the idea of zeropods and presented them well. We couldn’t predict the issues with suspension and ride height, which did not help.
— But if we had…
— It's no use thinking about what could have been, Y/N. Of course, we would like to be further ahead in the development of the car this year, but we made a mistake. It’s okay to make mistakes, and it’s okay to admit you’ve made mistakes. The problem is not learning from it. And clearly you've learned, so much so that you're trying to make it right in the worst way possible.
— The… worst?
— Staying so late, especially when you arrive so early, is not the way to go about this. You think you have more time, but you will just end up burning yourself out, which will cause you to make even more mistakes. No mind, no matter how brilliant, is immune to weariness.
You took a few seconds to absorb what you’d heard, like you couldn’t believe it. Toto Wolff had just called you brilliant.
But why wasn’t it making you feel any better?
— I just wanted to stop feeling like this…
— Like what?
— Guilty — you whispered, ducking your head — I feel so guilty, all the time.
He sighed, bringing his fingers to your chin and gently lifting your face to look back up at him.
— A while ago, I read a very interesting poem. I can’t remember who wrote it or what it was called, but it struck me because it was all about how guilt implies that you have the power to change the course of things when, in fact, you may not actually have the power to do so. This ends up making the emotion of guilt somewhat of a trap. It tricks you into believing that you are always in control, when in reality, you are not.
You blinked, listening to his words and the way he was talking to you. It was strangely soothing.
— What I mean, is that no one has control over the consequences or impacts of their actions. What we can control, though, is our actions and intentions. And you had the best of intentions, Y/N. You thought outside the box, came up with an innovative solution and even gave us a win last year.
— One win out of twenty-two races, after eight winning seasons. It feels like nothing.
— It’s not nothing, Y/N. It’s proof that, working together, we can achieve our goals. It makes me very proud, not only of you, but of the entire team. At the beginning of last season, nobody would have expected us to get a 1-2. We worked as a team and proved everybody wrong.
His words immediately brought tears back to your eyes, and it wasn’t long before you started to cry in earnest again. Toto just pulled you back into hug, your head nestled on his shoulder.
You had always admired him, for his own resilience and mental strength. The way Toto always saw difficulties as a comfort zone made him an inspiration. You wanted to be like him, to become an even better person under adverse conditions, like graphite under pressure becomes a diamond. 
Pulling away again, you ran your hand over your face, trying to dry the last of your tears. Then, you noticed that his shirt was wet from where you’d been crying onto it.
— Sorry — you said quietly, feeling your cheeks heat up.
— For what? — he asked, raising an eyebrow. As you pointed to the shoulder of his shirt, Toto smirked — No need to apologize, Y/N. I have a five-year old son, I've dealt with worse than a few tears on my clothes. Far worse.
His comment brought a small smile to your face.
— I can imagine — you murmured.
— Now, I want you to go to your office, get your things, and go home. And I don’t want to see you tomorrow… I mean, later today, at the office. You need to rest.
— Toto — you started, but he cut you off.
— Smashing your head against your keyboard is not the solution to our problems, Y/N. I insist. You will stay at home, off duty. If you think about showing up, you'll be stopped at the gates.
— You know that I can just work from home…
— Don't make me have IT revoke your access, Y/N.
— You wouldn't do that — you said, in a slightly indignant tone.
— Are you going to challenge me on that? — he asked, his voice teasing.
— No, Mr Wolff.
A satisfied smile appeared on Toto's face.
— Good — he said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear — Oh, and one more thing. If Mike starts again with this talk about you ‘throwing our year into the bin’, come talk to me, please.
His request made your stomach lurch. You liked Mike. He didn't seem as open to your ideas as James was when he was the team's technical director, but he had his own vision, which you respected. The relationship between you and Mike was always cordial, and he was willing to challenge you on your ideas, but it never had been so acrimonious as it had gotten that morning.
— I don't want to hurt Mike.
— You will not hurt him. He will be hurting himself if he continues with this behavior. He knows we have a zero-blame culture here, and why, and how seriously I take it. Please let me know if this happens again.
You nodded.
After a good-natured comment about his coffee, which, by that point, must have gone cold, you got up from your table and returned to the office, downing what was left of your energy drink on your way back to the wind tunnel building, feeling relieved, and strangely light.
You turned off your computer and left the factory for your flat, which wasn't far away. After taking a shower and changing into your pajamas, you laid down on your bed and became acutely aware of how tired you were. It was as if every part of your body was screaming at you to take a break, and you finally got a chance to do so.
After sleeping a good part of the next day, you took the afternoon to clean up your flat, relax, and cooked yourself a nice meal instead of getting takeaway or heating a frozen dinner. You avoided picking up your phone to even look at it, as Toto had sent you a message on the company Slack telling that he would confiscate it if he saw you online.
You felt much better the day after. You felt rested, and felt better about yourself and your work. You had hope for things to get better, for you to get more confident. You were trying your hardest, and it was being noticed. There was nothing better than that.
So you thought.
When you arrived at your desk, you noticed a cardboard to-go cup sitting in front of your keyboard. The coffee inside was still hot. There was a blue Post-It note stuck to the lid, the handwriting on it familiar to you.
“Beware the trap of believing you always have control - TW”.
You smiled as you stuck the note to the bottom edge of your computer monitor.
You would not fall into that trap again.
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blueparadis · 2 years
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❝ Cross the line ❞ + (Owen Knight,Vinny Hong,Jay Jo,Dom Kang,Joker,Wooin )
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+. CWs—» : afab-reader, explicit and non - explicit smut, suggestive themes, sub - dom dynamics, roleplay, powerplay, oral activities, foreplay; just some headcanons and scenarios before they're inside you.
+. NOTES—» this is my first post on webtoon content; so plan to write more. tap to view my works.
⌗ tags: @zoraedits @dejwrites @sukunababy
OWEN KNIGHT
Owen is soft and gentle yet so sly and perceivtive. He likes to have you underneath him, especially when he is about to go down on you. He will take his time exploring your body, testing your patience until he finally gets rid of your underwear. He is not much of a talker but he'll whisper magical things into your ears; like: “Want me to mark your body? Hmmm? Or should I eat you until you squirt?” He loves your body scent that he rubs his nose against your nape while his muscular toned arms sneak into your panties. “is this for me?”, he remarks and without providing a moment to answer he takes his slick wet fingers rubbing them on your puffy lips saying, “I can smell how wet you're.”
VINNY HONG
Vinny is a very cocooned guy and hence he's always embarrassed in your presence. It takes a little while for him to warm up to you. “No! No, you don't have to...”, he retorts when you start to unbuckle his belt. But he doesn't want you to stop because he wants to give you what you need, satisfy the lust he sees in your eyes when he offered you his half-burnt cigarette the last time. "Just stay still", you'd remark and he listens like a good boy who lets you suck his cock. The more you push his cock inside your mouth, the more you could feel your warm clit folds. Your free arm deliberately reaches down to your feminity yet a firm grip clamps around your wrist. "Uh-uh, you're not touching yourself until I cum", he hisses making you suck on his aroused cock as he stares down at your exposed body.
JAY JO
Jay is extremely introverted and maintains a thin line between calm and chaos, between rules and breaking the rules. He likes to press you against the wall, or the bed; his hand being solely used to hold you down as he kisses you until you gasp for air. Your chest heaves up and down vigorously as he goes down, rubbing his nose and finally taking your boobs in his mouth. Your legs are restless, unsteady as he sucks your hard nipple followed by a slow bite. "No no no! stay still baby, 'm not gonna hurt you", he mumbles as he peppers kiss along your neckline pressing his knee against your warm feminity.
DOM KANG
Dom is such a sweet and goofy guy. He is way too shy to take the first move but once you've made him comfortable he is a little hard to control. After all, it's a fool's move to try and compete with him in strength. He loves to kiss your nape when he is hugging you from behind and if you turn your face leaning for a kiss, he gets a little carried away. his hands slip under your shirt, fondling your boobs, rubbing and squeezing, pinching your nipples making you pull away from the kiss. "Sorry, did that hurt?", he asks only to stare at your pouty face.
JOKER
Joker no doubt contains a wave of erupting anger, yet he is so serene in bed. He likes to have you on top of him whether he is seated or layed underneath you but he still likes it when you give him the upper hand. "Let me know if I hurt you", he meekly says as he grips your ass cheeks rubbing his member against your thin panty while his lips suck your pulse point. "Oh, Goghd! AhhhHaaah", you gasp and your ear is blessed with a sweet chuckle as he pressed his naked chest against your boobs. He coos, "Girl calm down. I've barely even started." to which you would just say that you're trying to inflate his ego all the more.
WOOIN
Wooin is a firm believer in freedom. He likes it when a little birdie is given the taste of vast sapphire sky, unable to control the gush of happiness, yet so eager to fly. "Hey now, stop fighting, you're gonna hurt yourself", he hisses pressing your face against the wall as he grips your hand in the valley of your waist. He kisses your cheeks softly while his free hand roams all over your belly as inhales sharply. As much as he enjoys your vulnerability his heart screams for solace to come to you. His thin arms wrap around your body as he coos, "Ya'know I would never hurt you", to which you say," hm -hm I know" and that's what he needs a stable reassurance
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MY OC MILITARY FILE
(major thanks to @crashtestbunny and @thelaisydazy because I took full inspo from yours PLUS I love your OCs)
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NAME: CALLAHAN, VICTORIA ISABELLE
DOB: October 27th, 1991 (33 years old)
BIRTHPLACE: Nashville, Tennessee, United States of America.
SERVICE NO: 230-13-24
CALLSIGN: Whiskey , Bravo 7-0
SEX: Female.
MARITAL STATUS: Married.
EDUCATION: French BA with a Minor in Russian. (University of Winsconsin, Milwaukee)
LANGUAGES: English, Spanish, French, Russian.
BRANCH: United States Navy Sea, Air, and Land (SEAL) Teams.
RANK: Lieutenant (O-3).
TRAINING: Direct action, Counter-terrorism, Amphibious reconnaissance, Unconventional warfare, Hostage rescue, Underwater demolition.
Training Scores
PFT: 286
Rifle Qual: 300
CQB: 23.1s
Disciplinary Record: Clean.
Notes: 1 foreign distinction (Légion d'Honneur) awarded by the French government for an act of heroism while off duty.
Past Medical History
Height: 5ft8in / 172cm
Current Weight: 185lbs / 83kg
Blood Type: B+
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Extensive physical injuries.
1x 3rd Degree Burns (from prolonged exposure to flames) and lacerations after an explosion. Extensive injuries to the skin and soft tissue of the lower extremities. Surgical intervention performed successfully. *
10+ Stab Wounds with various degrees of gravity to the torso and upper extremities. 2 instances of antibiotics to stave off infection.
8x GSW. 5x in upper and lower extremities. 1x in upper torso (left clavicle). 2x in lower abdomen.
1x Laceration to the face. Extensive tissue damage and facial deformity. Surgical intervention performed successfully. Patient politely declined cosmetic intervention.
2x Concussion.
2x Hypothermia. 4 rounds of IV fluids.
2x Pneumonia. 2 rounds of antibiotics for treatment.
3x Hypoxemia and respiratory distress from smoke/toxic gas inhalation. 3 rounds of oxygen therapy.
2x Food Poisoning.
Evaluated for hearing loss. Result: minimal.
Evaluated for visual acuity. Result: 20/20.
Family History
Spouse: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ [EMERGENCY CONTACT] **
Father: Owen Callahan. August 14th, 1961. Deceased. 56 years old. KIA. United States Marine Corps, MSgt.
Mother: Evelyn Callahan. January 18th, 1963.
Sibling: Nathaniel Owen Callahan. August 29th, 1993. Deceased. 25 years old. KIA. United States Marine Corps, SSgt.
Sibling: Madilyn Anne Peterson. June 26th, 1989.
Note: Family medical history shows a tendency for diabetes, pancreatic cancer, and high blood pressure/cholesterol. Continue to monitor.
Social History
Smoking? No.
Drinking? Yes, socially. Never binging.
Physically Active? Yes. Swims 2+ hrs, 3 times a week. Boxing, 3 times a week. Cardio, everyday.
Sexually Active? Yes. Clear of STDs and STIs. In a long-term relationship. Currently on 2nd year of 5-year hormonal IUD (Mirena).
Psychological Treatment? Yes. Attends online therapy with Dr. Norbert Karbowski every two weeks.
Religion? Christian, Baptist. Non-Practicing.
Associations? N/A.
Medication List + Indications
Lidocaine – Issued for 3rd degree burns, 5 years ago, discontinued use.
Oxycodone - Issued for 3rd degree burns, 5 years ago, discontinued use.
Allergies
N/A
Notes
* Patient shows a preference for the use of compression tights as additional treatment for burn wounds.
** Request clearance from Station Chief Kate Laswell, CIA.
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