#and suspected that this season would deliver | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lusmeitli · 2 months ago

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader smut #loki smut #snow

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justinspoliticalcorner · 1 month ago

Text

Don Moynihan at Can We Still Govern?

An exhausted Bradley Boone, the assistant Fire Chief at Pensacola, took to Facebook on Saturday. As his community was recovering from Hurricane Helene he asked viewers for help. Not with aid or supplies. They had plenty of that for now. But to dispel the rumors that were making it harder for him to do his job. These rumors include that 150 people were missing, that the community was overrun with violence, that there were not sufficient food and water, that roads which were in reality in need of repair were being shut to limit the flow of help, and that FEMA was unwelcome. He said he had spent a large chunk of his day talking to citizens face-to-face to dispel the rumors. Boone is an example of how emergency responders have become one more category of public service worker who have discovered that they now have a second job they did not sign up for. Alongside librarians, teachers, public health officials, election officials, and law enforcement, emergency responders must now also be misinformation experts. They have to spend their days separating facts from reality for constituents who are being lied to via right-wing conspiracy theorists. FEMA set up a website to battle misinformation. Some of it comes from the usual suspects, like foreign adversaries such as Russia, seeking to sow mistrust, or professional conspiracy theorists like Alex Jones. But many of the lies (that FEMA is only offering $750 to disaster victims, running out of money, that FEMA money has gone overseas) comes directly from the people who could be in charge of the national disaster response next year.

JD Vance, Trump, and Fox News are key conveyers of the $750 lie. ($750 is intended to cover up-front costs, but citizens can apply for tens of thousands of dollars more in relief for property damage).

Trump said that Biden refused to talk to the Governor of Georgia, part of a pattern of discriminating against red states. But earlier in the day, Governor Kemp described the conversation he had with Biden the day before, and praised Biden’s support: “He offered that if there’s other things we need, just to call him directly, which — I appreciate that. But we’ve had FEMA embedded with us since a day or two before the storm hit in our state operations center in Atlanta; we’ve got a great relationship with them.” Other Republican leaders have issued similar praise of the responsiveness of the administration.

Trump: “They stole the FEMA money, just like they stole it from a bank, so they could give it to their illegal immigrants that they want to have vote for them this season.” Yeah, this is also untrue. But fun fact: Trump raided the FEMA budget to redirect money towards his immigration policies, including building a wall.

The misinformation, and much worse, is coursing through social media because much of social media has given up on policing lies, and some social media (e.g., Truth Social, Elon Musk’s X) see a strategic advantage in lying about the disaster. This false post from Elon Musk was viewed 28 million times. No community notes.

[...] We could be angry here about the hypocrisy. Trump says Biden does not want to deliver disaster aid to Republicans. Biden not wanting to visibly help swing states like Georgia and North Carolina, right before an election, doesn’t make much sense. But it fits with Trump’s own attitudes about disaster response. Multiple Trump aides say he was reluctant to allow FEMA support go to blue states. “One of his first questions would be: Are they my people?” according to a former aide, Stephanie Grisham.

But setting aside the hypocrisy, we should care because conspiracy theories affect the competence and quality of service delivery. I used to do research on disaster response. One thing that was clear is how important it is to have a functional national crisis response agency, and how dependent the response is on human factors. FEMA itself is not a large organization: it organizes and relies on a broader network of responders, and on the trust of the public. Take that trust away, and their ability to help people collapses. Competence really matters for disaster response like few other government functions. You can't bluff your way through it. You can’t learn the job as you go along. Mistakes are costly. Musk’s Cybertruck is on its fifth recall in the space of a year, while the boss spends his day on social media. His status as a natural disaster schmuck emerged when he promised to rescue a group of kids in Thailand stranded in a cave with a tiny submarine. When a cave diver who advised the successful rescue mocked the impracticality of Musk’s plan, Musk labeled him a pedophile, and hired a private investigator to dig up dirt on him.

[...] There is a basic asymmetry here. Democrats would certainly attack missteps by a GOP President failing in disaster response. The failure of Hurricane Katrina marked a key point in the decline of President Bush’s popularity. Trump was criticized for his sluggish response to Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico, and for pushing his appointees to violate scientific and ethical guidelines when releasing public information about the path of hurricanes to align with his Sharpie additions to a map. But that criticism was grounded in reality. Instead, the GOP simply turns to conspiracy theories rather than engaging in troublesome facts. More climate-driven disasters are coming. This is the future. Trump won’t acknowledge or prepare for this reality. Indeed, Project 2025 has proposed that the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration should be “broken up and downsized” because it is “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry.”

Another top notch post from Don Moynihan, this time addressing the hydra of lies and conspiracy theories about FEMA and the response to Hurricane Helene (and Milton).

#Hurricane Helene #Hurricane Milton #Misinformation #Hurricanes #FEMA #Disaster Relief #Conspiracy Theories #Hurricane Helene Conspiracies

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maxwellatoms · 6 months ago

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Good day sir. Hope I'm not bothering you My brother and I are rewatching The grim adventures and it's been fun. Miss cartoons that were just plain random fun. I'm curious about 3 things if I may ask - Jeff the Spider's design changed a few times, his first appearance was more simple, his second appearance was more detailed and gross looking, then after that he went back to a simple design. Was it because the "gross" design was too hard to animate? - I've noticed in some episodes a few characters with glasses would have green eyes, similar to Nergal Junior. Was there a miscommunication with the animation team? - Lastly, is there anything you wish you could've done differently in Billy and Mandy? Like doing certain episodes or characters different? Just retrospective sorta stuff I know this is probably asking a lot, but I just want you to know you're a great source of inspiration and one of the many reasons why I love spooky supernatural content. Keep up the good fight

Hey!

#1:

The reason that most of the characters changed over time was because I updated the models to help the overseas studios (and our own internal artists) get things on-model. I'll go deeper into Billy & Mandy's history with designs in "Billy & Mandy vs. The Entertainment Industry", but I went from wanting to allow artists to have complete freedom to tightening things down as time went on. The smart play would've to develop solid models first and then explain how, when, and why you can break the rules. That's the opposite of what we did.

Jeff was a more complicated character than most, with his double-mandible, multiple eyes, and eight limbs. I suspect that what happened in this case was that the overseas studio either didn't keep or didn't share the original Jeff model with their teams, and instead only used the "special pose" model of Jeff looking gross. Like a lot of the model stuff, it was a quality control issue. Back then when everything was analog (we still had to deliver on film up through the turn of the century) it was pretty hard to change anything once it had been done. So I'd always say, "next time" and then do a clarity pass over the designs.

#2.

Same deal. In the first few seasons, we had analog color correction, where you'd go to a big suite and some guy would run picture and you'd call out anything big that was bugging you. Chances are that we either didn't notice the error, or did and just couldn't do anything about it.

All of those early Mandy smiles were put in overseas, and I wasn't allowed to fix them. It bugged me so much that I vowed to find a way to fix stuff like that myself. I eventually figured out that I could export individual frames to Photoshop, tweak them, and then give them back to the editor. That way I could actually reanimate things that really bugged me but we didn't have the budget to fix.

#3.

Nah. It's fine.

Thanks and good luck!

#maxwell atoms #billy & mandy #cartoon network #animation industry

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ornii · 1 year ago

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Hey, don't know if it didn't delivered and/or you have done this before but.. Can we get some Hc's were (male)reader who's a werewolf like Enid and they both go into heat...?

I wasn’t able to work on the other one but I did get it! Been trying other content but I’ll finally get a chance to work on this one. Smut Warning.

Désir brûlant

Enid Sinclair X Male Reader, Smut ahead! Beware!

Being w Werewolf has It’s ups and downs, having Super strength, animal like instincts, the ability to transform into a massive hulking wolf man. Plus finding a mate was easy, they tend to pair off for life. But, there was one major drawback to this seemingly nice life.

Heat, very bad heat.

Heat cycles exist in Animals, and since werewolves are half human, half animal, it only stands that you’d have them as well. And that you did, this overbearing lust and emotional outbursts you’d have all due to the mixture of heritage. This year was no different so straying from girls was a must to avoid coming off as a creep, unfortunately there was one girl who was drawn to all things Creepy. Wednesday Addams.

Sitting in the back corner of the cafe, your pencil traced along the notepad for your Lycanthropy Homework, it’s usually child’s play for you, but something kept shoving its way into the focus of your mind. The notes began to fade and your mind wandered to the sense of touch, holding, touching, which quickly delves into intense, wild, bed breaking sex with, her.. you close your eyes and let instinct take over, it was all darkness. Until puffy blonde hair appears, beautiful emerald green eyes like a lush plane of emeralds, her face was unmistakable, it was Enid.

“(Y/n).” Your eyes shoot open to the sound of speien calling your name, you look up and a dark shroud darkens you. It was none other than Wednesday herself.

“Wednesday, I smelled black roses but, Nevermind. What’s up sunshine?” You Mutter. You met Wedensday by Proxy of Enid when she first darkened the Nevermore gates.

“I need your help with an.. issue.” She says, and sinks into the seat across from you. You casually place your pencil down.

“Look, depending on the size of the body, I can’t digest that much, it’s really bad for you.” You casually explain, Wedensday’s face was obviously a mix of conduit, but she cuts you off.

“That’s not why I’m here— let’s put a pin in that for later. This doesn’t require murder, yet.” She said, you lean back, gently covering your nose. Wednesday scowls a bit.

“Why are you covering you nose? Are you trying to imply something?” She said with her casual accusing tone.

“No, it’s just your… pheromones.” You can’t even look her in the eye, “I don’t want to end up drooling in front of you.” You admit.

“Humorous.” She replies deadpanned, “But this isn’t the first time, it concerns Enid.” She looks a bit, uncomfortable. Pushing your instincts down you wipe your mouth and look at her.

“Is something wrong? Is she okay?” You ask.

“She’s, different… making odd noises in the late night, I suspected her to be “Wolfing out” but that doesn’t seem the case, her whining, noises, it’s droning on and she’s not being cooperative.” Wednesday explains, “As a fellow wolf I assume you might have some insight.”

“Oh, I See.. yeah that makes sense.” You say to yourself.

“What do you mean?” Wedensday said.

“Heat Season. She’s probably struggling the way I am.” You explain, Wedensday looks down, thinking. “I hadn’t considered that option.”

“You didn’t think mating season would be a thing? It is for all of us, that and teenage hormones all mixed together…” you drone on, but stop. “Might want to keep your face away from hers. Might wind up with lipstick on it.” You say in jest, Wedensday having the sense of humor as a dead sewer rat, stares at you.

“She would do such a thing?”

“No Jesus, Wedensday I’m fucking with you, you’re probably not her type anyway.” You stand up, stepping out of the booth.

“Only real way for her to go back to normal is for her to wait out her heat season. Or…” you say, which catches Wedensday by surprise.

“Or what?…”

“You, give her what she wants…” you awkwardly admits.

“You mean, give you what you want?” Wedensday fires back, you try to act as if you have no idea what she means, but the sudden shift in your body language told her exactly what you had in mind. Wednesday thinks and then also stood up.

“I’ll be spending most of the afternoon in the cemetery, go get it out of her system..” she demands, and leaves, something about the way she said it. You felt almost compelled to, following up on Wednesdays “Offer.” More like a demand really, you awkwardly made your way to their room. Gently knocking on the door, you awaited a response for a moment.

“Hey, Enid?” You ask, Wedensday wanted me to Uh, Check on you..” you utter, you hear her shuffling and moving and the door opening. Enid was still as beautiful as ever, just with a very, tired look. Her eyes lit up for a moment seeing you, and a few very inappropriate ideas flooded her brain, she smiled.

“(Y/n)! It’s, really good to see you, really good.” She really extended her pronouncing on that one. You took the hint and leaned in slightly.

“Well, is there… anything I can do to—“ You could barely make out the sentence before you felt her hand grip your tie and yank you into the room.

3RD Person.

Enid wasn’t always so forward with things but to get the itch she’s been dying to scratch for so long, she took the first opportunity that came. It didn’t take long for (Y/n) to realize Enid had her hands on the door, pinning him against it and her lips assaulting his, her trying to coop herself in her room for the cycle to run its course wasn’t going to work, and Him drooling over her wasn’t going to help that. His hands gripped what part of her they could, her waist around his palms that get hotter each second, she was, surprisingly, barely wearing anything besides underwear that she was dying to tear off. Switching positions, Enids body was pressed against the door, this time (Y/n) taking the more dominant role as his lips pursed and kissed her neck, hard. (Y/n) stripped himself down to match her, sweat beading off both.

Her desperate moans crept into his ear, panting and gasping. “Harder, bite me, harder~” she pleaded, he gently let his teeth sink slightly into her skin, her body shivers, her nails digging into (Y/n)’s back as her grunts of pleasure were like music to (Y/n)’s ears. His enhanced strength lets him effortlessly Lift the girl up and walk her to Her bed, lying her down he mounts his mate and both are ready for the main course. His sex aligns with hers and his eyes locked with hers, he waits for a moment, to gauge wether she wants to go this far, Enid nods, looking lovingly into his eyes. He obliges, and slowly pushes inside, the hot wave of pleasure runs though them both, but Enid more, the way her head cocked back and the way her voice shivers as she yells “Fuuuuuuck~” as he enters. Her legs wrap around his waist, not letting him out. Her chest presses against his, holding (Y/n) tightly. His palms grip the bedsheets as he thrusts away, sloshing in her soaking wet depths, her cries of pleasure ring though the room. It only took a few thrusts for Enids to feel an orgasm coming.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna—“ she could barely let the worse escape her mouth before her body clenched around his, shaking in orgasm. (Y/n) pulled his throbbing shaft out and let his seed explode all over her stomach, both gasping for air they lie down together. (Y/n) wipes the sweat from his brow to recover, but he got no rest as he felt Enid this time Mount him, she didn’t hesitate to slide right down on his cock and ride away.

It was hours of passionate love, different positions, both being the dominant and submissive role in their relations. It was nearing midnight and Wednesday had given them ample time to get themselves together, she approached the door and opened it to the waft of sex hitting her nose, she, realizing the mistake she made walked to the window and opened it to air the room out, she completely ignored the exhausted duo lying on Enids bed.

“H-Hey, roomie…” Enid grumbles, tired.

“Good night Enid, (Y/n)?” She asks, he looks over to her.

“Yeah?” He asks, tired.

“Thank you for getting it out of her system.”

#netflix #male reader #wednesday #wednesday x reader #enid sinclair #enid x male reader #enid sinclair smut #enid sinclair x male reader #wednesday smut #smut #reader insert

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myfairstarlight · 6 months ago

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An Ode to Friends to Lovers - Colin and Penelope's story

Fine, I give in.

As someone who considers themself more of a casual viewer (as in, I've never engaged in the fandom before), I went into this new season with mild interest. And then I fell down the rabbit hole. I should have suspected it though, Friends to Lovers is a trope I affectionate particularly when it comes to romance, unfortunately one I very rarely think is done well. So I was still skeptical going in.

But by God, did they deliver on that front and I need to break it down and talk about it. So I guess this is my review of Bridgerton s3, part 1.

Under the cut though, because this is gonna be a long one (seriously, this is a warning).

I don't particularly think Bridgerton is a complex show, and one can argue all day about whether it is even good (in my eyes, as long as it's entertaining, I don't care if a show is "good"), however, the number of takes I've seen online not understanding basic story-telling worries me a bit.

Don't get me wrong, I agree this first half has pacing issues but I do not think Penelope's and Colin's love story suffered that much, it did not feel rushed to me since we already knew these characters for two whole seasons (and I maintain Colin has always had more depths than what people pretend he does, it seems like, just like the ton, viewers like to overlook him and just characterise him as naive).

And I guess this long ass post was born in the process. So:

Part One: Penelope's glow up

Yes I'm starting by looking at them individually first. I think this post on reddit sums it up so perfectly. I get we're all joking about how unrealistic it is that no man was ever interested in Penelope despite how she looks like an absolute goddess (and I maintain she was the cutest in both previous seasons as well!) - unfortunately it is realistic. That's the reality of bullying, it doesn't get solved by a glow up. Even her association with the Bridgertons through Eloise and Colin did not lessen the bullying, so without them? Even the prettiest dresses would not have changed the ton's perception of her, and she's still the awkward, anxious girl she's always been, and unfortunately, most of these men are not attracted to that. It's not satisfying, she doesn't get her triumphant revenge on a society that always ostracised her - and I think it's important that she does not. That she accepts it. She should not have to change for a ton that will not change for the better either. And it's a lesson she learns quickly - someone will love her for who she is, pretending will only lead to misery. And, it is when she's being herself that she successfully gets the interest of some gentlemen (shout out to Lord Remington! I was so hoping we would be seeing more of him on top of Debling. He's such a Whistledown fan I thought that even after the whole lesson reveal scandal he would have stuck to call on Penelope the next day to gossip together, it would have been cute but I guess he too wanted to avoid being written about) (also I'm just saying in fics he should be the one considered as a proper other suitor for Pen since they seemed to have a genuine connection, meanwhile Debling was really searching for practicality).

The thing I wanna add to that post is this: despite all that, she decided to change her looks for herself. When I first learned of the plot of this season, Colin helping her find a husband, I was scared it would mean Colin would be the one to tell her to have a makeover. It doesn't happen. Sure, Penelope subconsciously requests for a more Parisian style for her new dresses because it is the last place Colin went to, but by that point she has already given up on him. She wants something new, and to feel good in herself. That's how she blooms, by finding a style that she feels comfortable in, finally free from her mother's horrendous tastes. That's what allows her to be more confident as well, the new looks and her motivation to move on from her "unrequited fantasy". As for Colin? He never comments on her change, he compliments her dress (and mind you, that is when he's trying to play up the charm because he knows she's upset with him and he gets humbled, hard) but he never says it looks better on her than what she wore before, he never has a "I never realised how beautiful you were" moment we see a bit too often in friends to lovers stories, because to him she's still his Pen, new dresses, new hairstyles, but the same Pen he's always loved, even if he didn't realise to what extent yet.

But Penelope's confidence... is not quite there yet. Difficult to be, when she's grown up in a loveless home, with horrible sisters, a father who barely cared and a mother who constantly puts her down. Whenever she gets a compliment, her first reaction is "ah, it must be a joke" - that isn't even exclusive to Colin, in the brief interaction between Edwina and Penelope, when Edwina compliments her dress, Penelope also dismisses it. And then, there's Colin, who is always oh so honest with her and does not shy away from praising her. But I'll touch more on that later.

Part Two: Colin's new self.

And then we have the opposite: Colin showing up with a new attitude, and succeeding at it (well, on the surface). Something I haven't seen people bring up a lot though is that he's already tried a new look in s2, and he got mocked for it. The only one who didn't? Penelope. Why didn't he try to emulate being a rake back then? Because Penelope's letters grounded him, he admits it himself. It's seeing himself through Penelope's letters that gave him confidence. But that kind of confidence was not enough in the ton's eyes, and on top of that, between s2 and s3, this time Penelope doesn't write back, and neither do his family. He grows insecure, he's lost the one person who kept him grounded, he thinks his family is annoyed with him, and he still is in search of a purpose, so what does he do? He clings to Anthony's words in s1 after the disaster that was his engagement with Marina: he's too green, time to "fix" that and be more like his big brothers. They got it together, they know their purpose (well, Benedict lost his again but that's a story for another day), so surely, if he acts more like them, and not like the sensitive and naive boy he was, then surely everything will be alright! Right? Note that as opposed to s2, where he kept talking about his travels and it annoyed everyone, in s3 he doesn't go into details about them anymore, even when he's asked. They're only interested in the company he kept during the travels rather than the sights he saw. And honestly, it was heartbreaking to see right away how much of himself he was holding back, even with his own family. Penelope, however, gets the details without even asking because he already knows she likes hearing him talk about them and she makes him comfortable, and he's fully aware of that when he apologises in s3e1.

(I also want to note that, even if this new persona is fake, his new style genuinely fits him better. Just like Penelope, this season Colin found the style that makes him feel good and confident.)

And here's where I need to praise Luke's acting for a bit, because he absolutely nailed the subtle way Colin behaves differently with Penelope vs everyone else. His voice is softer, he is effortlessly charming (I was kicking my feet when he recalled how they met), his smile is bigger, even his whole face looks more relaxed whenever Penelope is around, meanwhile he always appears stiff and like he's calculating his every move when around his "friends". In fact, it is in the carriage scene we finally truly see s1&2's Colin back. When he has that look on his face, as he decides right there and then he's gonna marry her, and then a second later when he asks the question, his face. By God, his eyes are sparkling, he's so happy, and he looks as youthful and carefree as he did in previous seasons, far are the thoughts of trying to fit in a society that he hates.

Because above all, these two know and understand each other in a way no one else in their lives does. And that is a fact that remains despite the outward changes. So yes, I liked that their dynamic did not shift to romance because of their "glow ups", but because they are spending even more time together now. Speaking of which:

Part Three: Authenticity and Vulnerability

One big theme this season is being true to oneself. It's no coincidence mirrors are such a big part of it (even outside of the yet to be seen spicy scene), because looking at a mirror means looking at oneself, and be vulnerable. If s2 was about duty vs heart, eldest siblings trying to do right by their family to the point of self-sabotage, s3 is a battle between the head and the heart. It is not even exclusive to Polin - Eloise is learning and growing by trying to take genuine part in society but struggling to fit in. Cressida wants to become a better person, torn between the pressure put on her shoulders by her parents and this new friendship with Eloise. Benedict is looking for his purpose after learning Anthony paid his way to art school, and feeling like a fraud as an artist. Anthony and Kate are unashamedly in love, as they deserve to be after the struggles they went through last season. Francesca has no care for the suitors the Queen and her mother parade in front of her as the "sparkler" of the season (sidenote but I hated that, stupid name, should have stuck to diamond or select another gem) as her heart seeks out the handsome and quiet John Sterling instead. And this will continue in part 2, as Penelope will have to be honest about Lady Whistledown (because she's always her most authentic self around Colin, there is still this big secret she is so determined to keep to herself, when she should not).

The beauty about friends to lovers stories to me is the small declarations of love sprinkled throughout the relationship. It's about the trust already built in with no expectations and the vulnerability we'd never allow anyone but our closest friends to see, something even our family can be ignorant to. I mentioned earlier that Colin never shies away from praising Penelope, way before their dynamic shifts to lovers. He tells her she's good, constant, loyal, special, warm. All of these are declarations of love, even if not with romantic intent, it's about showing his appreciation for her, for the role she holds in his life. And Penelope responds in kind as well. That is why I believe people who think the romance was rushed in s3 either did not watch the past two seasons or see friendship and romantic love as two distinct things rather than a cohesive continuation of each other. In s1, people focus so much on the Marina stuff, as if that cancels out Colin's friendship with Penelope. We still do see Colin actively seek out Penelope at balls, and defending her against Cressida, he compliments her and tells her she's the one who inspired him to travel. Then s2 rolls in, and they're exchanging letters, which will become the cataclysm for their dynamic changing later on. And then there's one of my favourite scenes with them: them talking about their purpose. They both open up here, Colin about his insecurity, Penelope about her dream, it is so intimate. And then, there's of course Colin protecting the Featheringtons from ruins. I'm mostly emphasising Colin's actions, because Penelope's crush on him was always in your face, and while Colin may not have realised it yet, he's always cared about Penelope in a special way, as manifested by his actions and how vulnerable he allows himself to be around her, when even his own family has no idea about what's going on inside his head.

There's a misconception that Colin calling her his friend was him rejecting her, and yet we see in s3 he had no idea whatsoever that she has a crush on him, so he could not lead her on (unlike his book counterpart, who was aware of Penelope's infatuation and was careful never to toe the line until he realised his feelings. Show Colin though? Completely oblivious. And it makes sense, he's still young.) He asks Violet "how do you know it was reciprocated" and not "how do you know you're in love with your best friend". As of right now at the end of part 1, he genuinely thinks he's the one who fell in love first, or at least realised it first. His "You're Pen, you do not count, you're my friend" in s2, was not a rejection in his eyes, but a declaration of love; he's forsaken love and women but not his Penelope, never her, she's his exception And it's not like Penelope resented him for that friendship he so readily gave her, yes she had a crush, but she was proud to call him her friend! He was, with Eloise, her solace away from her family. At the end of the day, this is a friends to lovers story, it is silly to get upset that they considered themselves friends first before there is a click as they realise they are now on the same page to shift their relationship.

Side note but I've never liked the term "friendzoned" because it makes it sound like being friends is a bad thing. I've had unrequited feelings before but I've always felt grateful that being friends with them allowed me to stay close to them even if I knew nothing else could happen. I was still very much happy and content. But maybe I'm projecting on Penelope and that's another debate.

See, what I ended up loving about the lesson plot, which I was so wary of at first, is that Colin barely teaches Penelope anything. At first, he goes for the "do what society expects women to do" (since it worked for him) but then she acts awkwardly, she can't fake it, and it surprises him for a moment. That's when it clicks for him, she just needs to be comfortable because with him, she's always smart, witty and charming, she's herself. He's always seen her that way, and he did not quite realise he had that privilege in the first place. And I love how we see him slowly realise it is no longer a privilege thanks to his help. We see it in e2. When she talks to the guy with the dead horse (forgot his name, oops), Penelope forces the flirt and Colin is amused by it. Fast forward Penelope approaching Lord Remington by herself, without Colin's initiative, and she's being more authentic, and suddenly Jealous by Nick Jonas plays in the background and Colin doesn't look proud, but apprehensive, or dare I say jealous. The shift in Colin's head happens long before Debling is in the picture. I'd argue it already shifted earlier in that episode, in his study, which he flashbacks to in e4.

His journals detail how unfulfilled he feels when he lays with random women in his travels. He longs for emotional intimacy. And guess with who he finally finds that, when a certain red-head asks the one question that allows them to break the physical barrier they had to keep between them for the sake of propriety?

Ah yes, that first kiss. To Colin, everything has been building up to this, this is his true Oh moment. A favour turned into a revelation. For Penelope, this is quite literally the end of her fantasies. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment. She bares her heart, she's sad, she's desperate. And some people have been calling that moment pathetic, interpreting it as her being weak and giving in to her crush again, saying that she should not have to beg for that man's affection. I concur that she is brave, and bold. I also concur that some of you all are a bit too attached to the girlboss archetype forgetting that allowing oneself to be vulnerable is also a strength. She's never had to beg for Colin's attention anyway because he readily gives it to her, but in this one instance, for once in her life, she is truly being honest. In her head, she has nothing else to lose, and she wants to experience the one thing she thinks she can never have so of course she's gonna turn to the one person she's always trusted and feels the most comfortable with, because before her crush, Colin is her friend. She's asking a favour from a friend. And then she can move on, whatever "moving on" will turn out to be. In this instance, she has the power in her hands.

And it is her bravery that is the true cataclysm for things to change properly. Of course, things have already started to change the moment she stopped replying to the letters, but that moment really expedited their relationship.

Part Four: Lovers, but in a best friends way

The thing with Bridgerton, in the books or in the show, is that each couple has their trope. This is not news to anyone, I think. We've had fake dating, and enemies to lovers, and one characteristic that these two tropes share is a growing tension between the characters before it snaps. There is a reason the early marketing for s3 focused on Penelope being cold towards Colin, tension and conflict are more appealing on the surface. And then the first half of the season comes out and that conflict between our main couple? Solved after one episode because they did one thing that is severely missing in most romance dramas: communicated healthily. Penelope laid out why she was upset (although she does not stay to let Colin explain and then vents out her feelings in Whistledown... she still has some learning to do), Colin immediately went to apologise and make up for it. All of this by talking. And yet I'd argue friends to lovers still has its own tension, just not to the same intensity as the other two, and more difficult to market. The tension comes from the brewing feelings, the way you start seeing every touch, every interaction, in a whole new light, and wondering if it's only in your head or if it's reciprocated. But now combine that with Colin who's always been so earnest about his feelings with Penelope? And Penelope who's always quietly wanted their relationship to evolve that way? Of course they figured it out quickly and got together in half a season. And I'm delighted that we will see them handle the whole Whistledown mess as a couple, as two people aware they love each other deeply, which gives a whole new meaning to the conflict compared to the book where I felt like it was brushed over a bit too quickly (because they got distracted in that carriage). It is the last secret between them, their last obstacle.

I also do not like the "Colin should have grovelled and pined more" argument, when he is the one who insisted on the lessons to help her find a husband in the first place, and then has to face the fact that actually, he doesn't like the idea of another man taking Penelope away, and oh, isn't that the consequences of his own actions? He is grovelling, you just don't see Penelope holding it over his head, because that's not the person she is, this is not a revenge fantasy story, in fact she does not realise the power she has on him because she is used to Colin seeking her out. I like that he didn't stew on his feelings and decided to act on them right away. I also don't like how this whole grovelling thing makes it sound like love is a competition, that just because Penelope has known she's been in love for longer and "suffered" longer, that means Colin needs to do the same to even the planes. Because in my eyes love isn't exactly something to be earned — it is given. Now, are you worthy to keep it? To nurture it and make it bloom and last? That is the real question.

Admittedly, since this is only the first half of the season, we do not see them in a romantic setting a lot. That first half is focused on them rekindling their friendship lost during the summer when Penelope stopped responding to the letters, and Colin having the realisation he cannot live without his best friend, not just because she is his best friend, but also because he loves her. But we do have two important, and obvious instances.

So let's talk about that first kiss again. It is, in my opinion, one of the most gentle and romantic moments in the show so far and also showcased their friendship really well. Colin trying to joke to lighten the mood as Penelope spirals down (peak best friend behaviour actually), the gentle, swelling music, the light of the moon, Colin's deep exhale of realisation as he holds her face when he goes back in for the second kiss, with the furrowed brows of a man on a mission. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment and Colin's big realisation. And I felt like I was intruding.

And same goes for that carriage scene, but even before they go at it; now this is Colin's most vulnerable moment, and Penelope's realisation that they can be more. He chases the carriage by foot, then goes on his knees to confess his feelings to his best friend in the softest and most determined voice we've ever heard him use this whole season, eyes wide, tears threatening to fall as it is his turn to bare his heart and ask for a chance. Meanwhile Penelope takes it all in, running her hand through his hair because she can finally touch him, melting under him. Things get steamy. And then... and then... The carriage stops, they get startled, Colin jokes that the driver should have kept on driving and then... they laugh. They just made out, and went to second base together, and yet here they are now, laughing. It is such a genuine and lovely moment. And it's then that Colin has that look in his eyes, that "I'm gonna marry her" look. That is when he realises he cannot live his life without her. That his purpose is now right in front of him: making Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, laugh until the end of their lives.

Conclusion

There's no conclusion, I just love them so dearly. Yes, there still is the whole Whistledown mess to deal with and sure, the argument with Eloise may make you think great angst is ahead but if there is one big difference between Colin and Eloise, it is this: Colin has always listened to Penelope, and this is not a diss on Eloise. Eloise, bless her heart, can be pretty self-centred, she's loud and a bit immature, something she is growing from in s3, and you cannot ignore that she did not really listen to Penelope (she has no idea Penelope wishes to marry when Penelope tells her she does in s1, we can blame the writing, but I do think it fits with Eloise's journey to realising how privileged and dismissive she is. Penelope was too polite to call her out until their falling out. Meanwhile Cressida is exactly the type of honesty she needs for a wake up call). Colin, on the other hand, is very sensitive and a good listener. Furthermore, this season, Penelope is learning to be more confident, to voice what she wants, and I like to think it is leading to her finding her own voice and not needing Whistledown to hide behind anymore. If there's someone with whom she has no filters, it is Colin, so I have faith that when the reveal happens and an argument breaks out, this new Penelope will not back down and will lay out all her reasons and all her regrets, and Colin may be stubborn, but he loves that woman and he always listens.

A part of me also wishes they keep the jealousy he felt about her writing in the book, and that they don't focus just on the whole "you lied to me" aspect (we've already had that with Eloise). How he, himself, is insecure about his writing, and here Penelope is, less fortunate than he is, and yet who did have the courage to get her writing out there, even if publishing under another name. Because that is also a reality in relationships, when your partner is at a different stage in their career, and how they can communicate to support one another.

Anyway, I'm just rambling now (as if that isn't what I've been doing this whole time). I like them. A little. Just a bit. I'm very normal about them <3

#bridgerton #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton spoilers #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #long post #ok i got it all out of my system don't expect more bton posts from me lol #at least until part2 i guess #star.txt

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604to647 · 5 months ago

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Skittles

3.8K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Detective Tim Rockford in a compromising position.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please) - but it's all fluff (things start to move towards spicy near the end)! Talk of prostitution (sex work is work!), nicknames (Shutterbug, baby), feather light dusting of angst, soft!Tim as usual 💕

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio! Because the collection of one-shots is non-linear, they can all be read as standalone - though there is a reference to something that happened when they first met in Marine Attraction. This one can take place anytime, but I imagine it to be earlier on when Tim and Shutterbug have started dating for a few months/they're in a newish established relationship. Graffiti Alley is a real place! There might be others, but the one I frequented (and where the moodboard pics were taken is in Toronto, behind Queens Street).

Series Masterlist

Photography themed dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

“Thanks for your help, Darlene.”

“Sure thing, boss. Sorry no one showed.”

“Not your fault. You sure it’s this alley though?”

Darlene, seasoned pro at the world’s oldest profession and one of Detective Tim Rockford’s longest standing and most trustworthy informants, gives him a withering stare, “I think I can remember where I gave the guy a blow job, Timothy.”

“Geez Louise, Darlene, alright – I’m sorry,” Tim throws his hands up in mock surrender. Over the years, Darlene has provided him countless pieces of good intel – usually regarding the comings and goings of suspects or other persons of interest in his cases; her information always panned out - he didn’t have any reason to doubt her.

Theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement, as most cop-informant relationships were. He never busted her for soliciting, and to be honest, he probably wouldn’t have even if she didn’t help him. In Tim’s mind, sex work was work and Darlene and her fellow sex-workers had the right to make a living, as long as everyone was being safe and no one got hurt. He had a tendency to emphasize the safety part – Darlene and a few of her closer friends knew that if a client were to ever get rough or out of hand, a call to Detective Rockford would bring about an appropriate response.

That Darlene had once tried to use Tim’s business card as a get-out-of-jail-free card was another story.

Early on in their arrangement, Darlene had offered to include some additional ‘perks’, but Tim had never taken her up on it; the power imbalance didn’t sit well with him and she eventually stopped offering, the possibility of their relationship being anything other than strictly professional evaporating years ago. He knew other cops that didn’t object to mixing business with pleasure, and while Tim didn’t judge, it wasn’t for him. He saw it as his responsibility to take care of his informants, and he did so by paying Darlene one of his higher informant rates and providing her with some security in the knowledge that he was but one phone call away if she ever needed help; in return, Darlene kept an eye out for information that could help with his cases and she nearly always delivered.

Unfortunately, today was not one of those times. Darlene had called and said that she had it on very "good authority" that a few of Mr. Pie’s men had been hanging out a lot in Graffiti Alley. Darlene had overhead the men in question talking about Mr. Pie’s distribution network – an area of the Pie organization that Tim had been heavily investigating. And as a result, Tim’s spend the better part of his Saturday sitting in his car with Darlene, parked in an inconspicuous alcove in said alley waiting for her to identify any of the men should they turn up. No dice – during the daytime, Graffiti Alley is almost welcoming: people walk their dogs here, photographers and artists with sketch books come to be inspired by the ever changing graffiti art, even tourists wander through to admire the colourful murals. Apparently, the less than savoury characters only emerge at night.

Tim hands Darlene the envelope with her informant pay, which she accepts eagerly, “And do you have the other stuff?”

“Of course. Not my first rodeo, Darlene,” Tim reaches his long arm into the back seat of his car and grabs a small plastic grocery bag and hands it to her as well.

“Yesssss… you got Skittles this time,” Darlene digs into the bag, eyes eagerly looking over the selection of candy that Tim's given her as part of their agreement. She selects the package of Skittles and starts to tear it open – eager for her sugary reward.

“In the car? Be carefu-,” starts Tim, but it’s too late. Darlene pulls apart the wrapper just a bit too aggressively and the bag of candy explodes, scattering the little sugary rainbow orbs all over the front seats and floor of Tim’s department issued Crown Vic.

Darlene shrieks with laughter, “Sorry, boss!! I’ll clean it up!” and starts scooping up all the candy she can see. Tim helps as much as he can, but he’s already groaning at the near guaranteed prospect that they won’t be able to find every spilled Skittle and days, weeks and even months down the line, he’s going to periodically find candy in his car – crushed, melted and sticky.

Darlene leans over the centre console, hands groping around the floor of the driver’s side, feeling for errant candy. Tim closes his eyes and sighs, “Don’t bother, Darlene. And don’t eat candy that’s been on the floor, okay?”

“Tim?”

Tim’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice coming from somewhere outside the car, not too far away. He turns his head and looks out the window to you standing across the alley, a small smile of surprise on your pretty face – clearly not expecting to see him in Graffiti Alley where you had come to shoot photos. Tim’s about to roll down his window to greet you when Darlene chooses this exact moment to pop her head up so it’s now visible to you from outside the car and Tim watches as your face goes from bemused to shocked.

---

You love Graffiti Alley. It runs behind one of the city’s busier, more fashionable streets downtown. An alley in every sense of the word: dirty and lined with the bins and refuse discarded by businesses that only cared to maintain a posh appearance for their front of house. But what the back walls lining the alley way lacked in cleanliness and refinement, it made up for in vibrant and exciting graffiti art. You’ve come to admire and shoot the murals in Graffiti Alley many times before, but you returned often – the street artists frequently paint over, around, and even collaborate with each other so there’s always something new to see. After a delightful brunch with your friends in the same part of town, you made your way over to Graffiti Alley with the intention of trying out a new lens you had downloaded which you suspected would pick up on the saturation of spray paint colour rather prettily.

Noticing several new murals you’ve never seen before, you had happily snapped pic after pic, rather pleased with the results when you checked your camera roll. You’re looking through your latest set of photos, thinking that Tim might particularly enjoy a few of the bolder, stylized tags, when, almost as if you manifested him, you look up from your phone and see him sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, partially hidden in a shady alcove along a wider part of the alley way.

Tim's eyes are closed and he looks like he’s sighing – you knew he was working this afternoon, but looking around, there’s no one in this alley save him and you; thinking perhaps he’s taking a quick break, you call out his name.

Spying the look of recognition on his face when Tim turns to face you, you’re about to start walking over when the head of a woman pops up into view and based on the angle at which she appears, the only place her face could have been prior to surfacing had to be Tim’s lap.

You’re not sure what your facial expression conveys upon realizing that you've just caught the man you’ve been dating in the middle of receiving a blow job in a dingy back alley, but internally, you’re stifling a nervous type of laughter – this is awkward and mortifying. Maybe later, you’ll remember to be hurt, but right now your confusion and embarrassment for the situation are protecting your heart.

Your instinct is to run away. To put as much distance between you and Tim’s daytime dalliance as possible, as soon as possible. The instant you spin on your heel, you hear the car door opening and Tim call out your name.

Only able to take two steps before you hear, “Shutterbug! Please don’t go!” accompanied by Tim’s hurried footsteps catching up to you, stopping you in your tracks - it'll be impossible for you to outrun him if he insists on chasing after you with those stupid long legs of his.

Did he even have time to zip up his pants?! You cover your eyes before turning around, not sure if you can choke down what would undoubtedly be a sign of hysteria if you have to come face to face with Detective Tim Rockford being caught with his literal pants down.

Tim puts his large, warm hands firmly over yours, gently pulling them down before he says softly, trying to catch his breath, “Baby, I promise it’s not what it looks like.”

Still afraid to look, you keep your eyes closed, and say in a rather sarcastic voice, “I’m not sure what you mean, Tim. What does it look like?”

You hear Tim give a low chuckle, and your eyes fly open, Does he think this is funny?! You’re ready to give Tim a piece of your mind but your outburst dies in your throat as soon as you see the desperate, near panicked expression on the big, strong detective’s face. Normally so stoic and formidable (save with you), you don’t think you’ve ever seen Tim look quite so vulnerable.

He must register the change in your attitude, because Tim gently takes your hand in his and makes to lead you back to his car; the driver’s side door is still flung open and through it you can see the pretty, though tired looking woman sitting in the passenger seat looking at the two of you rather sheepishly. Softly, Tim pleads, “Come with me please, Shutterbug. I’ll explain everything.”

When you arrive next to the car, the woman gives you a small nod when Tim introduces you to one another.

“Baby, Darlene is an informant who’s helping me with the Pie case. She’s actually helped me with many cases over the years. We have a long-standing professional relationship,” he hopes he's properly emphasizing the strictly business nature of his and Darlene’s relationship, “… part of which includes her exchanging information for diabetes.”

Tim makes a sweeping motion with his hand and for the first time you notice that the car floor mats, driver’s seat and all the little nooks and crannies of the centre console are all positively littered with Skittles.

You giggle, “There’s so much candy.”

“Yeah, well, I splurged for the family pack to be nice,” Tim rolls his eyes, but his shoulders release a little of their tension at the sound of your laughter.

Darlene comically holds up her hands to show you both of her fists, clenched full of candy, “The bag exploded and I was just trying to salvage what candy I could from the floor – Skittles are my favourite. I promise I didn’t have your boyfriend’s dick in my mouth.”

You laugh loud and true at Darlene’s frankness – any and all uncertainty or insecurity you've been feeling evaporating in an instant. When you feel Tim’s arm wrap around your waist, you lean into the firmness of his hold. Looking up, you find him already gazing at you with look of devotion; he whispers, “Promise.”

Studying the earnestness in his eyes and the softening of his normally steely countenance, you believe him and whisper back, “Okay.” The smile that breaks out across Tim’s face is nothing short of mesmerizing, warming you through and through – though you see it only for a moment before his mouth descends upon yours. Lightly brushing your lips repeatedly, Tim nuzzles your nose and presses his forehead to yours – anything to stay close enough to feel the soft fan of your breath; he expresses his relief, his contentment and his desires, all without words.

“Dammmmnnn boss, you’re soft for her.”

“Darlene,” Tim’s voice stern, signaling an end to today’s stakeout.

“Right, got it. Me and my bag of candy will be going now – sorry for the mess and … yeah, well, you know. Anyways, I’ll call you if I see those guys again,” and with a wave of her rainbow colour stained hand, Darlene exits Tim’s car and saunters down Graffiti Alley.

Finally alone, Tim cups your chin with one of his paw-like hands, the other cradling the back of your head, and in a tender tone he pledges, “Baby, I would never, okay? Never with Darlene or any informant. And now, not with anyone but you. There’s only you.”

You kiss him softly to match the promise of his words before deepening the kiss, licking behind Tim’s teeth and letting his tongue tangle with yours so he knows you believe in him.

When you break apart, you’re in a teasing, jovial mood about the whole situation, “Not even with Darlene? She seems fun.”

“She’s a handful is what she is,” Tim grimaces.

“But you still make sure she’s okay and take care of her,” you suspect that it’s no small deal to your gentle giant when people make the effort to help him; you look at him lovingly, appreciating that while he may not broadcast his kind and considerate nature, it likely drives all his decisions and actions.

“Well, I try,” Tim looks bashful under your admiring gaze. He gestures to the mess in his car, “And look where it gets me.”

Giggling, you offer, “Want me to help you clean up the car?”

“Nah, there’s a car wash place nearby that has those vacuums. I’ll take it there. You wanna come, Shutterbug?”

Nodding, you go help Tim brush off what candy you can from his seat before rounding the Crown Vic and doing the same to the passenger seat. Tim insists on putting down his jacket for you, and although you don’t think it’s necessary, you made yourself a promise when you first started dating Tim that you would never pass up an opportunity to see him wearing his gun holster.

As luck would have it, a high school soccer team is running a fundraiser at the car wash today, so you and Tim don’t have to do anything but sit on a bench and wait for the car to be cleaned. You stifle a laugh as you watch Tim give a nervous, pimply teenager his keys after flashing his badge. Only when he returns do you tell him that he’s had a green Skittle stuck to the back of his slacks the entire time.

Tim sighs, with no actual air of annoyance, as you turn him around where he stands and take your time unsticking the candy from the fabric, making sure to run your palms unnecessarily over the swell of his ass, pretending to look for other rogue Skittles.

Tim looks back over his shoulder down at you, “You just about done there, Shutterbug?”

“Nope,” you chuckle, giving his butt another once over with your grabby hands before lightly slapping each cheek, watching in satisfaction at your boyfriend’s cute booty dancing a little. “Now I'm done,” you announce cheekily to Tim’s amused silent mouthing of 'Finally' to the sky.

Wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling your legs into his lap, Tim presses a soft kiss to your temple as you snuggle into his soft embrace.

“You know, I thought I might lose you today,” Tim confesses into your hair.

Tilting your head up, you meet his tired eyes, the rich browns deep and swirling, “Like if I hadn’t believed you and Darlene, and just left?”

Tim sighs and looks pained, reliving the flash of fear that ran through him earlier that you might want nothing more to do with him, “I would have understood.”

Cupping his distressed face in your hands and running your thumbs soothingly over Tim’s facial scruff, you hope he feels your sincerity when you assure him, “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, Detective.”

“Don’t want to get rid of you. Wanna keep you always,” murmurs Tim, closing the distance between your faces. Mouth pressing to yours sweetly, unhurried but full of feeling – Tim drinks in your returned affections, thirsty for your reassuring and calm touch.

After your affectionate display attracts the hoot and hollers of the carwash teens, the two of you break apart, smiles goofy. Still a ways to go before the car is finished, Tim asks if you shot any good photos in Graffiti Alley and you happily take out your phone and walk him through today’s captures.

You’re nearly done showing him the colourful murals that caught your eye today when Tim suddenly straightens, “Wait, go back please, baby.” You swipe back a few pictures until Tim points at a bright stylized tag and you give him your phone so he can study the screen. After a minute or two, he resumes scrolling slowly through today's street graffiti pics, pausing only to take retrieve his case notepad from his jacket pocket – flipping to a page of notes and using it for reference while he intently scrutinizes your photos.

Silently, you watch the cogs in Tim’s mind turn, lost in his theories and the problem solving nature of detective work that he loves so much. You're always fascinated seeing him like this: in his element, where his brilliant mind and the shrewdness of his instinct meet, and he can seemingly conjure solutions to problems you don’t even understand out of thin air.

When he gets to the end of today’s camera roll, a brilliant, heart stopping smile illuminates the detective’s entire face, the type that if you weren’t already sitting would make your knees buckle. He looks at you, roguish grin on full display, “Shutterbug, I have good news and bad news.”

Your shout of “Noooooooooooooooo!! Not again!” carries across the carwash, causing the teenagers to furiously debate amongst themselves who's to be the poor soul who has to come over to tell the two of you that Tim's car is clean.

You're incredulous. Your boyfriend really has to stop confiscating your phone for police work.

---

It’s a little past midnight when a persistent knocking wakes you up. When you open the door to a sheepish looking Tim, he apologies but you don’t mind the late hour – not when you spy the glow of success stamped all over his handsome face and the spring in his step when he enters your apartment.

It’s clear that Tim, having gone straight to the precinct after dropping you at home this afternoon, hasn't gone home. You pull him towards you for a tender kiss, concerned for the long hours he keeps, “You’ve been at work this whole time, detective?”

Taking off his jacket and shoes, Tim nods but looks the opposite of tired. He’s excited and elated at the way the puzzle pieces of this case have started to fall nicely into place today, in large part thanks to you.

“Special home delivery,” Tim holds out your phone, voice full of gratitude.

“So my photos helped?”

Did they ever. Tim eagerly shares with you the fruits of your joint labour – when you showed him your snapshots earlier, he had recognized some symbols discreetly painted into the graffiti art in a few of the photos. The same symbols appeared over and over in coded messages that the police had intercepted between Mr. Pie and his distribution network. The messages were unreadable and a source of great frustration for the detective squad until today, when Tim realized that the code breaking key was hidden in plain sight all over Graffiti Alley. Tim had spent the rest of the day with the LAPD Cipher Team, decoding the messages they had on hand and setting up stings and operations necessitated by the freshly revealed information.

It had been a good day. Tim grins at you and thanks you earnestly for your contributions.

Slipping your fingers under the smooth leather of Tim’s holster straps, you give them a little pull – instead of pulling him towards you, Tim’s solid frame remains unmoved and your actions cause you to tip into his space. Eyes all innocent, you blink at Tim, “I want to be paid in candy too”

Detective Rockford is on you in an instant, hungry and eager to reward you - for your help, your understanding of the nature of his work, your understanding of him. Mouth never leaving yours, his hands roam expertly over your lithe body, slipping under the soft silk material of your lace trimmed sleep set. Meanwhile, your delicate hands are decidedly less gentle as you tug and pull at Tim’s belt, pants, dress shirt buttons, undershirt – breathy whimpers of victory attempt to escape your occupied mouth every time your fingers relieve Tim of another piece of clothing. No patience for order, you litter your floor with his clothes to create a telltale trail leading to your waiting bed.

A shirtless Detective Rockford rests his head on your fluffy pillows as you climb on top of him, worshiping you with his eyes, still unable to believe his incredible luck that such a goddess would allow him to worship at her alter. You worship him right back – tracing soft shapes over his hard chest as you marvel at the goodness housed within and the quiet strength of his broad shoulders and muscles. Though your touch gives him nothing but pleasure, Tim removes your hands from his chest by your wrists and brings them to his lips, gently kissing them before raising them over your head so he can remove your camisole.

With you straddling his hips, bare and gorgeous only for him, Tim hardens fast under the plush globes of your ass. Willing himself to slow down, he slowly skates his thick, rough fingers over your delicious curves, bringing his large palms to a rest just under your breasts. You're just beginning to tremble with arousal from Tim thumbing your nipples, pretty peaks already pert and hard from his attention, when a frightening thought enters your mind,

“Wait, Tim! Wait!”

Sitting up at your urgent tone, Tim wraps his arms around your waist, lightly running his commanding hands up and down your spine in a soothing manner – eyes full of concern.

“If you used my photos in your investigation, does that mean we have to break up?” you remember the conflict-of-interest protocol that separated you from your handsome detective for seven months the last time he used your photos in his casework. The idea that you’ll have to part from him again threatens to break your heart.

Happily, Tim would never let that happen. “Don’t worry, baby. We went and shot our own photos today to enter into the file - we won’t use yours as evidence,” he presses his plush lips against the sweet spot on your neck that he discovered the first time he slept with you, “Never breaking up with you, Shutterbug.”

“Good,” you breath, grinning before pushing him back onto the bed, your body falling on top of his. Ghosting your open, wanting mouth over Tim's lips and inhaling the intoxicating, woodsy scent that always leaves you dizzy, you murmur, “Wanna keep you always, Detective Rockford.” And then you kiss him.

#tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford series #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fic: The Rockford Portfolio

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wolfiwonderer · 4 months ago

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Season 2 shows us Sahed's life is a series of cages and betrayals growing more constraining each time. That he hasn't given up is impressive (but giving up would not be in his character). Anger and magic is basically all he has to hold on to, and I think we have yet to see if his anger at Tonny was misplaced.

Cage 1: the concentration camp that he grew up in.

I'm not sure exactly how long ago this was, but I'm guessing 100 years, which means Ah'kon have not had freedom for over a century. And what's the first thing we see he's doing (other than being a cocky brat <3)? Building a flying machine to get out and see the wider world. He's enticed to leave peacefully because it comes with leaving. And so first betrayal of trust in someone offering an escape.

Cage 2: the research center. I think we'll learn a lot more about this, but clearly he started thinking about it positively, hence the happy picture. My theory is that the giant wave was made by Sahed, and when he implies he's killed before, that is the event he's referring to. We know that Steinheimer died young, but Sahed doesn't seem quite broken up about the guy. Since he says he was haunted, it just doesn't feel like that would be the haunt.

Cage 3: the circus

I think it's clear that Sahed was an addition after the circus started. For one, I can't see Sahed really confining himself the castle, but also it would be hard for him to live as a fugitive. So he manages to escape, but needs refuge and meets Tonny. Tonny promises to give him freedom from Kalgratt and that he'll support Sahed's cause. But Tonny continuously makes ill-fated promises that even a casual understanding of their situation is morally wrong. I want to write something about why I think Tonny is not good, even if he does not realize it. But suffice to say, Sahed didn't get what he thought he would get from the bargain.

Adding a cut because it rapidly passes into fast pass zone.

Cage 4: the circus but worse

Now he's alone in a cage. And when he gets out, it's not really freedom from the cage, it's just walking room. Because while in theory Tonny is going to help now, the circus is turned against him. They're morals have long seemed suspect - very selfish and disconnected with how their choices might affect people outside the circus. Sahed and Julia are really the only ones still concerned with anything outside the circus.

The third betrayal is Julia, but this is different, because he also let her down, and because he knew he was in a position of power over her. This hearkens back to when he was the leader of his group of friends and led them into the research center. He doesn't know, I think, about her 1 year limit, so he probably thinks he had even more influence on her decisions than he did. Honestly, I think he gets too much blame from others on her decision. She wanted validation that Tonny deserved it because she wants to live. But Sahed delivered when he should have realized the consequences. He feigned confidence in the plan that he didn't have. Her turning on him hurts but not in a way he can get angry at her about, although I think he has a right to be mad if she really doesn't support his takedown of the research center.

Julia can give up in a way that Sahed can't. The only person she has to save is herself, whereas he feels responsible for the Ah'kon's treatment (even if he isn't). Still, Julia and Sahed share a sense of righteousness, and I don't see meek Julia lasting.

I am totally here for the shipping too, but I really love Sahed's character. I love how we start with Sahed as a potential villain (okay we knew he wasn't but Julia def thought he was) and brat, but as we learn more about him, his motivation becomes clear as an activist -- he's still a brat (affectionate).

#marionetta #not particularly insightful for anyone who thinking about it but wanted to write down what's in my head #I just love this story and both Sahed and Julia #Glad he's becoming a viewpoint character #essay I guess #sahed marionetta

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sublimitymp3 · 2 years ago

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good day🍃what do you think of yandere daemon, aegon, aemond, criston upon finding out that his beloved and dear wife reader is drinking moon tea so as not to have their children? 😱❤

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Daemon could only help to feel betrayed as the poor maester he had backed into a corner admitted you had employed him to make and deliver you moon tea. Daemon had his suspicions after you were still not pregnant after many nights of him filling you with his seed. He immediately began making his way to your shared chambers where he knew you were currently resting. And for the fate of the poor maester, Daemon opted for dealing with him later, for as of right now, you were his only focus. As he grew closer and closer to the doors of your shared chambers, he made mental notes of all the ways he was going to fuck you later that night to ensure you would be carrying his heir. You were going to regret ever drinking a drop of that tea.

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Aegon wasn’t stupid like you may have thought him to be, he suspected something was going on the moment you began to take your tea alone in your chambers. And he finally realized what was happening when he noticed that this strange behavior of yours just so happened to start the day after your wedding. Did you think that he was unfit to be a father? Or did you simply wish to play a cruel game with him? Aegon could only ponder this subject as you started to leave to go to your chambers to drink your daily moon tea. Unfortunately, you were none the wiser as Aegon began to stealthily follow you to your chambers, deciding he would put an end to this punishment you were enacting onto him once and for all. You only became aware of his presence when he pushed you onto your bed and climbed on top of you, whispering in your ear that it was your duty as his wife and queen to give him heirs.

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Aemond always had a watchful eye on you, even when sometimes it wasn’t his own. He liked to give you a false sense of space from him, but whether it was your handmaiden or the guard that was sworn to you, he always knew what you were up to. So it only made sense that as soon as your handmaiden saw what tea the maester had given you to drink, she reported it to Aemond. Now, Aemond knew that should he confront you about this, he risked damaging the relationship you two had, as you had just begun to show signs of reciprocating his feelings. So he quietly made threats to the maester, and had him deliver regular tea, and you had absolutely no idea. As the months passed and the seasons changed, the bump that was growing on your belly grew and grew, and you simply had the strangest inkling that the tea you were given by the maester wasn’t moon tea at all; and that it wasn’t exactly his idea to make the switch in the first place.

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Ser Criston knew his vows as a member of the Kingsguard prevented him from taking a wife and fathering children, but it didn’t stop him from marrying you. And he had no plans of letting it stop him from fathering children. However, he did find it a bit strange that you were still not pregnant after being married to him for some time, but he brushed it off as an effect of the two of you not having many opportunities to conceive due to his job requiring late hours. But he was proven wrong when he caught you stealing the materials needed to make moon tea from the maesters supply. It frightened you as he said nothing when he stumbled upon you, only clenching his jaw and dragging you to the small room you had been allowed to have in the Red Keep. Once he sat you down on the bed you shared, he started guilting you, telling you that he risked being put to the sword for breaking his vows to marry you, and he’s done so much for you just so you can turn around and betray him in such a way? Did you not love him anymore? You can only help but feel regret for drinking the moon tea as you sat on the bed, wallowing in your own thoughts. So later that night when he spills inside of you, you decided to never drink moon tea again.

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Tag list: @moonmaiden1996 @itsghostgirlyo @the-wanderer-2022

Side note: Happy holidays guys <3

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen x reader #Daemon Targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen x reader #Aegon Targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen x reader #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #yandere criston cole #yandere criston cole x reader

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jellycrusher · 1 year ago

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Wolves and Lambs: Part 2

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter's Premise: "It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract."

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

In this society that we now live in, there are three "types" of humans.

The most common one, which also makes up 90% of the population are the Betas.

Then, there are Alphas, they're said to have superior characteristics which make them great leaders. Which is why most of the successful athletes are usually Alphas.

And lastly, a class that is even rarer than alphas, the Omegas. One of the pecularities of Omegas is that they constantly release a sweet scent, what we call pheromones. These affect mainly Alphas and lures them. During their heat, the pheromones they produce will be much stronger and will be more luring to Alphas.

One can take medicines to control their pheromones, especially during their heat period. Suppressants can be taken by Omegas. Alphas can also take them if they wish not to be affected by any Omega in heat.

Society has indeed taken it in to protect Omegas because of their special constitution. Sadly, there are a lot of people who thinks that Omegas are inferior and are only good for mating.

Just because someone is an Omega, it doesn't mean that someone isn't meant for greatness ahead.

It was horrifying to think that your career is now ruined when it hasn't even started yet. You choke on your own saliva, making you cough so loud that a few heads turn in your direction. You fiddle with your fingers when you closed the book. Oscar quickly noticed the panic in your voice and in your body language.

"Oh no, don't worry. I'm an Omega, as well. I thought this was public knowledge?" Oh right, bugger me, I wasn't paying attention to Megan when she told me the names of the two Omegas on the grid. You looked at Oscar with a puzzled look and he quickly adds, "Good thing that the venue was swimming with Alphas. Our smell won't really affect anyone. But you? You didn't smell of anything at all. Maybe a hint of sweetness but nothing too obvious. There were a few Omegas at the event so I think the other drivers didn't suspect you."

Realization hits you. You pull out your phone from your pocket and opened the calendar. "I must've missed my suppressants. I was so busy with pre-season testing, the gala, and extra training. That can't happen again."

Wondering if only Oscar was the one who noticed your peculiar scent. It's scary to think that if maybe somebody else has caught you, you won't even be able to continue as a driver for your team.

"It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract." You confess.

"Well, that's true. It took a lot of convincing before my teams in F3 and F2 trusted me. We had to work twice or thrice as hard to prove to people that we' can deliver the same results as others, if not better." Oscar leans back on the couch, arms sprawled on the backrest. "Besides, my heat doesn't affect my performance anymore. Not since I met Lando."

"What d'you mean?"

"Lando's my mate. I don't get intense heat ruts anymore since he gave me my mark. One time I drove through a GP when my heat came. That was scary, I almost crashed." he says, amused when you got visibly surprised at the revelation.

You felt relaxed that he was able to confess this information with you even if you just met for the first time during the gala. Maybe he was just trying to comfort you when your secret was discovered by him.

"Please don't tell Lando just yet. You didn't, right?" you ask. Oscar shaking his head at your question.

"I kinda have a responsibility to take care of you now. It's not my place to tell anybody. In our line of work, nothing stays a secret so I guess you'll tell who you'll want to tell at the right time." Oscar leans forward to you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. We stick together."

"What secret?" You jump at the familiar voice. Lando pops up behind you two.

"Nothing. She's just telling me which of the drivers she finds cute." Oscar stand up from his seat and guides Lando to the direction of the restaurant.

"I bet it's me, right?" Lando points to himself. Oscar gently punched the side of Lando. They waved goodbye and disappeared into the restaurant.

It wasn't much of a calm air to make you continue reading your book in the lounge. Despite Oscar making you calm even after your conversation, you were still worried. You needed to let out some steam.

When you came up to your room, you took a suppressant and changed into your workout clothes. You arrived at the empty hotel gym and started pretty quickly on the treadmill.

If you weren't a race car driver, no one would bat an eye if they thought you were a track and field athlete at how fast you were going through that treadmill. Your music blasting through your headphones on maximum level when you didn't notice two men entering the gym.

You were breathing too hard through your mouth to even notice the waft of Alpha scent coming from the two men. They were cheerfully chatting and joking when they took notice of you aggressively running on the treadmill. Surprised at the unsettling scent you were giving off. You were angry, very angry.

They chose the two empty machines at either side of you. Careful to not disturb you, they quietly took their place and slowly started running.

Once you got all the frustration off your mind, you pressed a few buttons on the machine to slow it down. You take a moment to catch your breath but not long after, your nose twitched at the strongest Alpha scent you've ever smelled your entire life.

You try to hold your breath and cover your nose with one hand but that didn't help. You didn't know where it even came from. It's so strong that it's starting to make you sick and dizzy. Your limbs felt like jelly and your throat was getting dry. No scent has had this kind of effect on you before. The music blasting in your ears is not helping any bit so you yank it off.

"Hey!" Shocked at the unexpected voice, you shriek and tripped on the treadmill. Good thing it was running very slow that you weren't hurt when you amusingly slid off the machine. The man quickly paused his machine and yours, then ran to help you. "Are you okay?"

You recognized him to be Charles Leclerc. The other half of the driver pair of Ferrari. He offered his hand out to help you stand. You got a bit too close to him as you rise from the floor. You can't help but sniff him inconspicuously. He had a strong Alpha scent, similar to the one you smelled earlier but not entirely the same. The effect it has on you was not as powerful as earlier. Maybe what you've smelled was a mixture of scents? You're not entirely sure.

"Surprised you're a driver with that kind of a reaction with just a hello from Charles. Wonder how you'll do at the track." You turn on your heels at the sound of an arrogant voice behind you, and saw Max Verstappen still very much running and have not batted an eye when you fell.

"I..." You step forward in annoyance, almost about to snap back at him but your feet quickly froze. You recognize the smell. It's coming from Max. The golden boy of Red Bull. The man who dominated all of the drivers last season, and who had broken and topped a lot of records.

The salty taste of fear lingered on your lips. Your muscles screamed at you to leave, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were utterly frozen, your body cutting all communication with your mind. Unable to distinguish if you were immobilized in fear or in shock at how his measly Alpha pheromones have this much effect on you.

Thankfully, Charles' voice brought you back to reality when he checked up on you. You bolted to the door as soon as you regained control of your body, leaving the two men baffled at your swift exit from the gym and into the lobby.

"What's up with her?" Max stopped his treadmill and stepped down. Both of the men still looking at the direction you left.

"What's up with you? Why were you rude, mate?" Charles lightly smacked Max's head with his Ferrari cap. "You scared her off. Look, she even left her things in a hurry." They noticed your green flask still on your treadmill.

"What? I was just telling her, that kind of reaction is dangerous on track." Max replies.

"In what universe did you tell her that?"

"I did!"

"You did not. You clearly need to work on your communication skills, Max. Use your words." Charles reached for your flask and aggressively placed it on Max's hand. "For that, you apologize to the woman and return this to her."

"FINE. I'll apologize." Max scoffs as he fix his hair in his Red Bull cap. "Reserve that treadmill for me." He points at the machine you were previously using that was beside Charles.

Charles scoffs and shoos Max away. Max headed to the lobby but he was not able to locate you. He doesn't even have your number. He thought to ask his fellow drivers but surely no one have asked it yet. He spots an Aston Martin staff but when he asked where you might be, they are clueless.

"Max!" He turns at the call of his name and saw Pierre. "Why do you look so troubled?"

"Have you seen y/n by any chance? I have to give her this." Max raises your flask to Pierre as Yuki and Esteban walks up behind him.

"We just got back here from lunch outside the hotel but maybe you could send her a text to get that. Much easier." Yuki suggests.

"Yeah right, like I have her number." Max chuckles sarcastically.

"We do!" Yuki, Pierre, and Esteban answered in chorus.

"Wait, when did you get her number?" Max asks as he was genuinely bewildered at their response. He remembered that you were barely mingling with any of them during the pre-season testing in the circuit.

"Of course we got her number. Who wouldn't?" Pierre says as he scrolls through his contacts looking for your name.

"We competed through heads and tails to see who'll ask her number first." Esteban adds as he giggles.

"Lando introduced us to her during the gala. She was pulled away by Lance multiple times but when she got away from the sponsors, she would come back to the bar to chat with us." says Yuki.

"Here you go." Pierre shows Max your number and he types it in on his phone. He thanks his pal Pierre and sat down on the lobby couch to put your name in his contacts and start messaging you. The three of them bid farewell to Max and continues to walk up to the elevator.

Unknown Number: Hi! You left your flask in the gym. I'm still at the lobby. I was wondering how to give it to you.

It took almost 5 minutes before Max got a reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: Who's this? How did you get my number?

Max looks at the conversation thread and felt stupid that he didn't mention his name. Anybody would be wary in your position if they got that kind of text.

Unknown Number: My apologies, I didn't tell my name. This is Max. From Red Bull. I got your number from Pierre.

Then it took you 10 minutes to respond. You were fiddling with your hands on the screen as you think of a reply. It was supposed to be a simple reply but the fear in your body hasn't subsided yet. Fully sprawled out on the floor of your hotel bedroom.

Unknown Number: Do you plan to get it from me or do you want me to give it to any Aston Martin staff?

Another ping on your phone and you read the new text. Worried that you'll inconvenience a staff, you quickly typed in your reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: I'll get it. Going down in a sec. Wait.

You took your time to even stand up. Letting your pheromones and instincts recover from the nightmare you experienced just by taking in his scent. As you slowly walk towards the door, you changed his name in your contacts. At that moment coincidentally, you received another text from him.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: Are you almost here? I still have to work out with Charles.

Aston Martin Y/N: Can you please wait? I'm waiting for the elevator.

Max decides to wait by the elevator when he read your text. He tilts his head up every time it opens and was starting to get irritated at how long you took to come down when finally he sees the door open with you in the elevator... with what seems to be ear plugs up your nose.

He bursts out laughing, even snorted at one point. "Still on brand, I see?" He noticed the green earplugs with a small brand logo peeking out on the side.

"You really enjoy teasing me, huh?" You say in a nasally tone while yanking the flask off his hands as he busies himself laughing his ass out. You turn back to the elevator, about to press the button.

"No, no. I'm sorry." Max fixes himself. "I apologize for earlier. Didn't mean to say those things that way."

"What do you mean?" You stop your hands from pressing the button and looked at Max.

"I'm glad you're okay. Just... maybe you could work more on your reaction time. A fraction of a second could mean winning or losing, and even crashing or not." Max mellows out his voice into concern.

"I am fully aware, not like i've just started racing this year. Thank you for the tip." You reply but as soon as you get a whiff of his scent despite there being a plug up in your bloody nose, you frantically press the elevator button.

The strength of the smell was less this time, maybe because Charles' scent is not in the mix. But nonetheless, Max's pheromones are still causing your hair on your arms to stand up even with the plug. You don't want to imagine the effect on you if you are able to clearly smell him this close without the help of suppressants.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be? You always seem to be in a hurry." Max asks in confusion. You pinch your nose to help minimize the scent.

"I just.. need.. to get out of here." You press the button a few more times and finally, it opens. "Thank you for giving me back my flask. Bye!" You ran inside and pressed the close button.

"What's wrong with her?" Max says out loud, leaving him utterly confused as he goes back to Charles in the gym.

He calls out to Charles when he stepped up on the treadmill.

"Hey! How was it?" Charles asks in between breaths.

"Do I stink?" Max sniffs his shirt and even his pits. He even lifts the collar of his shirt to prompt Charles to sniff him.

"No, mate. Why? Did somebody tell you that you stink?" Charles asks, fully focused with his workout and didn’t bother to actually sniff Max.

"No one. Just asking."

You spend the rest of your day cooped up in your room, trying to avoid Max. You try to think of ways to pass the time but all you have is a deck of cards and a television. Not really a fun way to spend your free time in the room.

No amount of Alpha pheromones have bothered you before. Not unless someone is raging mad like what you've regularly felt during races. But not like this. The combination of Charles' and Max's pheromones are dangerous for you, clearly more of Max's. Like it's enough to trigger a heat from you. Right now, you can't afford that. Good thing you took a suppressant before you met them.

A few minutes before dinner, you heard a knock on your door. You rush to get up from your bed and walk to the other side to get to the door.

"Hi Oscar!" you beam up at the presence of your fellow Omega when you opened the door.

"Hey! They want me to ask you if you're interested to play Switch and PS5 with the guys. They have food and drinks." says Oscar as he stands in front of your doorway.

"Sure. I could use some food right now. Let me get my phone." You smile and went straight for your nightstand.

"Great. I'll text..."

"Wait. Is Max there?" You halt in your steps.

"Him? He never joins us for game night. Too focused on race day." Once Oscar mentioned the absence of Max, you relax and continued to grab your phone and room key, then went back to the doorway. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering."

Oscar didn't think anything more about your question. "They say to hurry. Almost done with the current tournament on Mario Kart. You have to join as the 4th driver." He gently pulls your hand and escorts you to the elevator.

Still, the mystery of why Max's pheromones have that effect on you continues to linger on your mind.

A steward reminded each team that the briefing was about to commence. All 20 drivers are ushered to find their own seats. As you were to take yours, you scan the room and noticed Charles and Max sitting together on the first row with either of their respective teammates beside them. As you were about to sit on the other far end of the next row, other drivers appeared out of nowhere and sat on the chairs next to you.

Oscar made sure to take the seat on your right and pulled Lando to sit next to him. As Alex was about to sit next to you, George hastily took the seat on your left. You quietly giggle at how amusing the boys look. You've gotten so close with some of them after spending your pre-race break by playing video games as a group.

The briefing started and they discussed new rules, and addressed some concerns that were brought up during the pre-season testing. Everything was on point and on time. Good lucks were thrown back and forth to all the teams and everyone bid their goodbyes before heading back to their respective hospitalities in the paddock.

You and Fernando struts back into your own room in the team's garage and came out in your white racing top with your race suits' sleeves tied to your waists and a green cap to keep your hair in place. Your trainer proceeds to work with you to test your reflexes using tennis balls.

Megan pats your shoulder and points at the far end of the Aston Martin Garage. Oscar, in his orange overalls, tries to peek his head through and calls your attention. You excused yourself from your trainer and sprinted towards Oscar.

"What's up? You need anything?" you smile at the Australian driver.

"Did you take your suppressants?" Oscar asks and you nod quickly in respond. "Good. Don't underestimate the pheromones of these guys during races. I had trouble back then when I was still unmated, especially with Lando's. They could really fuck up your races without even needing any contact with your car."

"Really? That bad?" You reply with a nervous laugh.

"Just make sure you have your suppressants with you every race week. That's a priority. Don't ask anyone else to give you or else, your secret might get out. Also, I don't bring mine anymore since Lando takes care of my heat prior to every race week."

"Okay Mom! At least somebody's getting some action." You sheepishly tease Oscar, nudging him at his side.

"Anyways, good luck out there rookie!" Oscar jokingly pulls down your cap to cover your eyes and he steps away, back to his team garage.

"Good luck to you too, Mom!" You shout. Oscar raises his hand and waves it, still walking forward.

You go back to your trainer and continued on with your training.

"Formula 1 is back, and it's time for Qualifying for the 20th World Championship Bahrain Grand Prix. 23 races in 2023 and we get underway for the 6th time in F1 history right here in the Bahrain International Circuit"

You and Fernando went to your respective corners beside your car. Like a well-oiled machine, every part was doing its job perfectly. A team of engineers briefed you of the strategy, at the same time Fernando's team of engineers did theirs.

You fix the rest of your race suit on and placed the earpiece before putting on your balaclava. An engineer hands you your helmet and hans device. Now all set-up, the two Aston Martin drivers lowered themselves into the cockpit and buckled up. Mechanics making their final checks and removing the tire blanket. The engine roared and echoed back. Music to your ears.

Driver number 13 officially representing Aston Martin for the start of the season. Time to do what you do best.

You and Fernando went to do incredibly flying laps through Q1. The engineers back at the pit wall seem pretty pleased with the pace. In Q2, it was unfortunate that Fernando failed to continue for Q3 after a Haas collided with his rear wing and puncturing his rear tire.

Your pit mechanic signals you to go out of the garage once again when Q3 had resumed, followed by the drivers of Ferrari and Red Bull. For the first five minutes, Red Bull and Ferrari had dominated the front row as Verstappen in P1 and Leclerc in P2.

In the last seven minutes, you were able to climb P3 with purples in sector 1 and 2.

You heard a familiar beep in your earpiece as Ben, your race engineer, informed you,

"P3, that's P3."

"Do I have enough pace to try for P2 on the final lap?"

"Confirm. We can try for P2."

You push flat-out on the throttle, eyes darting forward like a hawk. Concentrated on getting purple on all sectors.

Max was granted the provisional pole as he crosses the line, followed by Charles. Charles was informed by his race engineer that he's on P2 at the moment. Max was able to snatch the purple sectors in 1 and 2, while Charles got purple in sector 3. Time's up for Q3 and the remaining drivers' lap times are still to be recorded.

One by one, the remaining drivers cross the line. Max and Charles was told to wait as their race engineers inform them through the radio that you now got purple in sectors 1 and 2. You've yet to complete sector 3 and cross the line. The two men now looking back at their mirrors, catching to see a glimpse of you.

"And it's y/n on pole position for the first race of the season! Her maiden pole! What an amazing lap by this year's only rookie, and she starts on the front row tomorrow."

The two men, in awe by your performance, didn't notice their respective engineers talking through their radios.

Your PR officer guided you to the flock of reporters in the media pen for the driver interviews. Each of them congratulated you and asked about your maiden pole. You carefully answer every question while your PR officer stand beside you, before going on to the next reporter.

Charles and Max were also inside the media pen at the same time as you. Charles to your right and Max to your left. You were the first one among the three of you to finish your media duties. Your PR officer bid you goodbye as she rushes to the team hospitality while talking to someone on the phone.

Charles approached you from behind, "Hey y/n! Congratulations on your maiden pole!"

You gave a genuine smile at the compliment from the Monegasque. "Thanks Charles! You two were extremely hard to beat."

"I look forward to racing with you on the front row tomorrow!" Charles quickly waved goodbye just as how short he said his greeting.

He seems to be in a hurry as well so you just responded, "You too!"

A few seconds later, somebody came behind you to pat your back. As you turn your head, Max blurts out, "Congratulations. That was a pretty good qualifying debut."

Still wary at his presence, you vaguely took a step away from him and held your breath. "Thank you... Congratulations to you too." You try to take a sniff but relief wash over you as his pheromones today wasn't as strong as you'd think. Possibly because you did two doses of the suppressants.

"What's your problem?" Max darts his eyes at you.

"Huh?" You reply, looking confused.

"You always seem to act like I stink when you're around me. I thought it was just my imagination but you act the same every time you stand by me." Max stood tall and crossed his arms.

"No. That wasn't what I..."

"I have the same perfume as Charles yet you don't have a problem with him. Kinda rude for a rookie, don't you think?!" Max continues.

"Are you done? You gonna let me explain?" You reply, also crossing your arms.

And there it is again. That scent. But this time it smelled a bit different. Smelled stronger but muskier. More aggressive than the last time you smelled it on him. Once again, your throat starts to dry up. Your chest and legs are starting to feel weird.

Max noticed your nose scrunch and sees you slightly take another step back. Appalled by your reaction, he cursed under his breath so quietly. He was about to voice out his irritation at you when Oscar runs to insert himself between the two of you.

"Hey Max! Sorry but I need to snatch her away. It seems that y/n is needed by... her engineers! Yes, for a meeting." Oscar mumbled and chuckles as he tries to make more space between you and Max.

"Her engineers asked you to get her? You're a Mclaren Driver." Max raised an eyebrow in response.

"Oh, who minds the small details?" Oscar wafts his hands in the air before pulling you away from Max. "Sorry if i interrupted your conversation!"

Oscar pulled you away from Max's line of sight as fast as he can. Almost comical to see you two running across the paddock. He turns to a corner and lets go of your hand. You lean your hands on your knees and try to catch your breath as Oscar looks back just in case Max is still in the area.

"That was close. A photographer almost took a photo of you two and from where I was standing, the conversation didn't seem to look so friendly." says Oscar.

"Yeah, that was close-- Huh?"

When Oscar pulled you away from Max, you thought he could sense the trouble you were in. Your trouble with Max's presence.

"Wait, you couldn't smell him? His pheromones?" You ask, clearly puzzled at the reason for Oscar's interruption.

"No. Max didn't smell any different when I stood between you two. Why? What's wrong?" Oscar now looks concerned as he walks closer to you.

"Nothing. I just think my nose is busted." You dismiss the lingering thought at the back of your mind. Surely that musn't be it.

"Wait, I just remembered that you really are needed at your garage. Lance was looking for you earlier." Oscar pats your back and pushes you to the direction of your garage. You almost curse that you lost track of time as you ran back like your life depended on it.

"And it's lights out and away we go!"

Next Part: Part 3

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