#in my law firm era

[comphyjost]

just met someone at work from nova scotia who talked with me about nate (and sid) and said how much their small little province is so proud of those boys and that any time she watches hockey now especially the avs she’ll think of me 🥲🥲

[erotetica]

Hiii Lewie

Special thanks to @transarmand for making these great GIFs, which were a godsend when drafting that plaid. My other refs r below the cut in case anyone finds them useful:)

[mummer]

got a job offer but the hours are absolutely shite and it doesnt start til the end of next month

[kaurwreck]

fun fact! the contemporary Japanese constitution as amended does not and can't exist in bsd. this isn't conjecture— there are institutions that still exist in bsd that were dissolved by Japan's current constitution, and the events leading to Japan's current constitution have not happened in bsd.

Japan's constitution was rewritten by US General Douglas MacArthur in 1946, in the aftermath of WW2. But WW2 hasn't happened in bsd. (This is also not really conjecture; it's evidenced by there being a Great War and Fukuchi's aims to prevent a second would-be-greater war— irl, the Great War was only called that prior to WW2 because it was, until WW2, the most destructive, widespread war in the modern world. We then had an even greater war and so began numbering them.)

but, it's not even only that WW2 hasn't happened. you might have noticed bsd's Great War parallels but doesn't mirror irl!WW1— in bsd; the international alliances were different (ex: France was allied with Japan and Germany); Japan disengaged from the Great War before its conclusion (after Fukuzawa killed Japan's war hawks); the subsequent peace treaty was between France, Germany, and England (in lieu of the Treaty of Versailles); different nation states arose in the aftermath (the Republic of Nares only exists in bsd, it never existed irl— but WW1 did collapse empires and beget several new nations); the Great War beget the United Nations instead of the League of Nations; etc.

it's not clear precisely where bsd's alternate history breaks from ours— or if there was ever even a break or if it's an entirely parallel timeline—but it is canon that the Port Treaties that forcefully opened irl Japan exist in bsd but were never abolished like they were irl in 1899. it's canon that Suribachi City formed after itty bitty baby Chuuya black hole kaiju'ed a foreign settlement in Yokohama since there wasn't any appetite to rebuild it— which means that as recently as approximately a decade prior to canon, there were still foreign settlements in Japan. this is further confirmed by the Colonel in 55 Minutes.

all of this to illustrate: any claim regarding bsd!Japan's laws based on irl!contemporary Japan is incorrect unless specifically affirmed in canon. Based on the information we've been given thus far, the two Japans are operating on completely different legal frameworks.

in other words, there's no basis for deciding same sex marriage is illegal in bsd!Japan until Kafka Asagiri writes it into canon.*

*For example, I'm fairly certain Yokohama's municipal tax laws and regulations are similar enough to irl!Yokohama because Kunikida mentions a specific tax zone in Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam that seemingly aligns with a tax zone specific to some contemporary Japanese municipalities, including Yokohama.

*Random fanfic of any gay BSD ships getting proposed to/are married/seems like they are married

“it’s cute and all but you’re forgetting that gay marriage is illegal in Japan”

Stfu, they are literally part of the mafia and have killed poeple, you really think they’d care about that💀

[dear-ao3]

theres something so incredibly prolific about john mulaney's comeback kid special. i cant tell if it aged like milk or fine wine or maybe just a nice slightly stinky cheese. the whole bit with his wife who he is now divorced to, relating it to the movie the fugitive with the "i didnt kill my wife!" "ooo whos that fella, i bet he did kill his wife," and the whole bit about not wanting kids when he now has a kid, the office temp stories from when he was young and drinking and addicted to drugs and now how that happened again in his adult life, the bits about his parents sprinkled throughout and how it all comes in to the grand finale with bill clinton, the comeback kid, a political bit in the pre tr*mp era that hits just correctly and just at the right time to be funny for what it is, how he ties the fugitive back into it, then hits you with the "hey ellen" "cause he never forgets a bitch ever" and slam dunks the end with his dads law firm representing clinton. truly a work of art that could not have hit the same in literally any other year.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

China hacked Verizon, AT&T and Lumen using the FBI’s backdoor

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

State-affiliated Chinese hackers penetrated AT&T, Verizon, Lumen and others; they entered their networks and spent months intercepting US traffic – from individuals, firms, government officials, etc – and they did it all without having to exploit any code vulnerabilities. Instead, they used the back door that the FBI requires every carrier to furnish:

https://www.wsj.com/tech/cybersecurity/u-s-wiretap-systems-targeted-in-china-linked-hack-327fc63b?st=C5ywbp&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

In 1994, Bill Clinton signed CALEA into law. The Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act requires every US telecommunications network to be designed around facilitating access to law-enforcement wiretaps. Prior to CALEA, telecoms operators were often at pains to design their networks to resist infiltration and interception. Even if a telco didn't go that far, they were at the very least indifferent to the needs of law enforcement, and attuned instead to building efficient, robust networks.

Predictably, CALEA met stiff opposition from powerful telecoms companies as it worked its way through Congress, but the Clinton administration bought them off with hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies to acquire wiretap-facilitation technologies. Immediately, a new industry sprang into being; companies that promised to help the carriers hack themselves, punching back doors into their networks. The pioneers of this dirty business were overwhelmingly founded by ex-Israeli signals intelligence personnel, though they often poached senior American military and intelligence officials to serve as the face of their operations and liase with their former colleagues in law enforcement and intelligence.

Telcos weren't the only opponents of CALEA, of course. Security experts – those who weren't hoping to cash in on government pork, anyways – warned that there was no way to make a back door that was only useful to the "good guys" but would keep the "bad guys" out.

These experts were – then as now – dismissed as neurotic worriers who simultaneously failed to understand the need to facilitate mass surveillance in order to keep the nation safe, and who lacked appropriate faith in American ingenuity. If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can build a security system that selectively fails when a cop needs it to, but stands up to every crook, bully, corporate snoop and foreign government. In other words: "We have faith in you! NERD HARDER!"

NERD HARDER! has been the answer ever since CALEA – and related Clinton-era initiatives, like the failed Clipper Chip program, which would have put a spy chip in every computer, and, eventually, every phone and gadget:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clipper_chip

America may have invented NERD HARDER! but plenty of other countries have taken up the cause. The all-time champion is former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, who, when informed that the laws of mathematics dictate that it is impossible to make an encryption scheme that only protects good secrets and not bad ones, replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable, but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.zdnet.com/article/the-laws-of-australia-will-trump-the-laws-of-mathematics-turnbull/

CALEA forced a redesign of the foundational, physical layer of the internet. Thankfully, encryption at the protocol layer – in the programs we use – partially counters this deliberately introduced brittleness in the security of all our communications. CALEA can be used to intercept your communications, but mostly what an attacker gets is "metadata" ("so-and-so sent a message of X bytes to such and such") because the data is scrambled and they can't unscramble it, because cryptography actually works, unlike back doors. Of course, that's why governments in the EU, the US, the UK and all over the world are still trying to ban working encryption, insisting that the back doors they'll install will only let the good guys in:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Any back door can be exploited by your adversaries. The Chinese sponsored hacking group know as Salt Typhoon intercepted the communications of hundreds of millions of American residents, businesses, and institutions. From that position, they could do NSA-style metadata-analysis, malware injection, and interception of unencrypted traffic. And they didn't have to hack anything, because the US government insists that all networking gear ship pre-hacked so that cops can get into it.

This isn't even the first time that CALEA back doors have been exploited by a hostile foreign power as a matter of geopolitical skullduggery. In 2004-2005, Greece's telecommunications were under mass surveillance by US spy agencies who wiretapped Greek officials, all the way up to the Prime Minister, in order to mess with the Greek Olympic bid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_wiretapping_case_2004%E2%80%9305

This is a wild story in so many ways. For one thing, CALEA isn't law in Greece! You can totally sell working, secure networking gear in Greece, and in many other countries around the world where they have not passed a stupid CALEA-style law. However the US telecoms market is so fucking huge that all the manufacturers build CALEA back doors into their gear, no matter where it's destined for. So the US has effectively exported this deliberate insecurity to the whole planet – and used it to screw around with Olympic bids, the most penny-ante bullshit imaginable.

Now Chinese-sponsored hackers with cool names like "Salt Typhoon" are traipsing around inside US telecoms infrastructure, using the back doors the FBI insisted would be safe.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/07/foreseeable-outcomes/#calea

Image: Kris Duda, modified https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahorcado/5433669707/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[raekensluver]

rekindled bonds (introduction)

introduction, part one, part two,

description: reuniting with your old childhood best friend, spencer reid, in the most unlikely of places, the fbi's behavioral analysis unit.

pairing: spencer reid x bau agent!fem!reader

contains: fluff!!, spencer and r reuniting after a decade, childhood best friends to lovers trope.

song rec: pretty boy by the nbhd- "pretty boy, you did this with me, boy."

w.c: 870+

an: if you want to be added to the taglist for this series lmk! i'm planning for this to have at least three parts !!! also i haven't watched criminal minds in forever so, i definitely think i messed up on what agents are on the team in this era....(my bau team is prentiss, morgan, rossi, jj, reid and garcia)

"you know, i never expected to end up here," you murmured to yourself, glancing around the bustling office space filled with a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. the hum of conversation and the tap of keyboards created a comforting rhythm that was almost soothing. the walls, lined with case files and maps, whispered tales of a world you had only ever read about.

"you'll fit in just fine," a voice said from behind you, and you turned to find emily prentiss, her eyes gleaming with a knowing smile. "this place has a way of growing on you." she began to lead you through the maze of desks, each one a miniature universe of clutter and chaos, until you reached one that was shockingly neat. "this is where you'll be working."

as you took in the organized space, she continued, "i'm emily prentiss, unit chief. i've heard a lot about you." her hand extended in a firm, confident gesture. "it's an honor to finally meet you."

you took her hand with a warm smile, feeling a sudden rush of excitement. "likewise," you said, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head. "i've followed your work closely. i'm thrilled to be joining the team."

emily's smile grew as she gave a nod of approval. "i have no doubt you'll be an excellent addition to the team." she turned and began to lead you through the office, her heels clicking against the tiles with a confidence that seemed to resonate through the room. as you walked, you couldn't help but feel like you were stepping into a dream - a world of law enforcement and psychological profiling that you had only ever watched unfold on television screens.

each desk you passed had its own story to tell, with case files piled high and personal mementos scattered among the paperwork. "this is where the magic happens," emily said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "every member of our team brings something unique to the table, and together, we solve the unsolvable."

as you followed her, you noticed a man in the corner, his eyes glued to a computer screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. something about him was eerily familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. his hair was shaggier than you remembered, and he'd filled out a bit, but the intense focus was unmistakable.

"spencer," emily called out, and the man's head snapped up, his eyes darting around the room before landing on you. "i want you to meet our newest member."

you felt your heart skip a beat as the realization dawned on you. it was him - the boy from your past, now a man with a sharp intellect and a reputation that preceded him. "reid," you murmured, a mix of disbelief and excitement coloring your voice.

spencer reid looked up from his computer, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before recognition lit up his eyes. "you," he said, his voice a perfect blend of surprise and delight. he pushed back his chair and stood, a warm smile spreading across his face. "i can't believe it's you."

you couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "small world, huh?" you stepped closer, feeling a mix of nostalgia and nerves as he closed the distance between you.

"indeed," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "i never thought i'd see you again, especially not here."

you chuckled, feeling the weight of the years that had passed between you. "life has a funny way of working out, doesn't it?"

spencer nodded, his smile never wavering. "it certainly does. how have you been?"

you felt a flush rise to your cheeks, not quite knowing where to begin. "i've been… good," you managed, trying to keep your cool. "i studied psychology in college, like i always talked about. it's what brought me here."

his eyes searched yours, and you could see the curiosity in them. "i've missed you," he said, his voice sincere. "you were always the one who could keep up with me."

you blinked, surprised by his candidness. "you too," you admitted. "i always wondered what happened to the kid who read encyclopedias for fun."

just as the conversation was starting to flow, emily cleared her throat, her eyebrows arched in curiosity. "you two know each other?" she asked, looking back and forth between you.

you nodded, unable to wipe the smile from your face. "we're old friends," you said, still slightly in shock. "we grew up together."

emily's eyes widened. "really?" she looked intrigued. "i had no idea."

"yes," spencer said, his smile growing wider. "we were practically inseparable until i left for college. she was the one who could actually understand what i was talking about when i went on one of my…rambles."

emily chuckled. "well, that's a rare skill around here. we could all use a little more of that." she turned to you. "i'd love to hear more about your history with reid, but we're on a tight schedule. we have a case briefing in ten minutes."

you nodded, feeling the excitement of the moment give way to the reality of your new job. "of course," you said, trying to compose yourself. "i'm ready."

edited 8.20.24

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 1

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None really in this first chapter.

Word Count: 2,656

A/N: Okay, so this is the series that I orphaned over on fanfiction.net and I conducted a poll on what people wanted me to do with it if I brought it over to Tumblr. Converting it into a Dean x Reader AU won quite handily. So, that's what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy.

Just so everyone knows, this is a historical AU set in 1900, and there is no hunting involved. (Though there is a family business. 😄)

Series Master List | Main Master List | Tag List

Dean Winchester was bored; he admitted it. He was bored of the balls, the soirees, the empty conversations, the glittering jewels and the painted smiles. He needed a break. So he'd left New York City and all its glamor and come to Newburgh to spend time with his brother, Sam, Sam's wife Jessica and their little girl, Lucy.

However, now that he was standing in the quiet train station, waiting for Sam to pick him up, he had to wonder what he'd been thinking. With the sleepy ticket agent sitting behind the counter, gently dozing, and an old man sitting on a bench, lazily browsing through a local newspaper, this no longer seemed like a solution to his restlessness and boredom. This place actually seemed like the town that boredom was born and raised in!

But what could it hurt to stay for a week or two? He'd visit with Sam and Jessica, see how much Lucy had grown in the last year and maybe it would wash away the taste of sweaty, over-crowded ballrooms and smoky parlors with too much lemon furniture polish.

He shook his head. He didn't know what had gotten into him lately. That life was all he'd ever been interested in. Certainly, he'd never wanted his brother's life. Slaving away at his private law firm, saddled with a wife and child, and living in the middle of nowhere, a six hour train ride away from civilization; it had always horrified him.

In the last few months, however, the idea of breathing fresh air, of laughing with and even arguing with his brother, of bouncing his niece on his knee, and even the idea of listening to Jessica's bouncy chatter, had been growing in his mind until it was a constant disruption in his thoughts. So, he'd left the reins of his family's shipping and trade business in the hands of his very capable manager and sent a telegram to Sam that he was coming to stay, and to pick him up at the station.

But Sam was late. Dean had been waiting nearly an hour. Tired of standing around, Dean decided to wander a little. He woke up the ticket agent briefly to ask if he could leave his suitcase behind the desk with a message for his brother. The agent yawned and gave him a pen and paper, reaching over to take his suitcase.

Sam,

Got tired of waiting for you. Went exploring. Be back in an hour - two o'clock.

D.

"Thanks." He said to the agent, and set off on his quest to cure his boredom. There had to be something in this town to interest him.

***

Y/N breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh. The air was crisp, fall air that smelled faintly of damp leaves, spice, and wood smoke. It was a warm and inviting smell and it made the lonely chasm inside her heart widen.

"Miss Y/N, watch!"

Y/N gave her attention back to the little girl who was running down the hill, scattering the birds, and laughing loudly. She couldn't help but smile at the little hellion. It might not be very ladylike behavior, but she wasn't even four years old yet. Y/N decided to save the admonishment and let her be a carefree little girl while she could. These years of innocence and abandon were fleeting. The little one should enjoy them.

"Hello."

Y/N jumped abruptly at a man's deep voice. With a hand over her thumping heart, Y/N turned to scowl at the stranger who'd startled her. As she looked up into his face however, her scowl melted and her heart started beating hard enough to jump out of her chest.

The man was smiling at her, a smile that hitched up one side of his mouth and made Y/N's breath catch in her throat. He was very tall, towering above her where she sat on the park bench. The perfectly tailored, brown traveling coat he wore stretched across broad shoulders and narrowed in a V shape over his flat stomach. His wool pants were of very fine quality and accentuated the strength and muscle of the legs beneath them.

He was beautiful, there was no doubt, but his eyes were something more than beautiful. They were a bright emerald green, long-lashed and penetrating. They stared into Y/N, like he could see through to her back collar button. His eyes alone caused Y/N to blush and she realized she was blushing because there were promises in his eyes, promises of something dark and sensual and all consuming.

He was speaking. She tried to clear the buzzing in her brain so she could hear him.

…"Dean."

She shook her head. "What?" she asked quietly.

He chuckled softly and Y/N's stomach clenched at the sound.

"Dean. I said my name is Dean Winchester and I asked you for yours."

"Y/N!"

At the sound of her name, Y/N turned, thinking wildly for a moment that someone had simply been telling this man her name, but then she realized it was Mr. Winchester, her boss. And as she realized this, the name the man had just given her penetrated through the haze in her mind.

She looked back at the stranger. "Winchester?"

But he wasn't looking at her anymore; he was looking at her boss who was jogging slightly towards them. "Dean!" he called out. "You weren't at the station, so I thought I'd track you down. Sorry I'm late." Mr. Winchester threw his arms around the man and pulled him into what looked like a bone crushing hug. But the man simply pounded Mr. Winchester on the back before her boss turned to face her.

“You’ve met my brother?”

***

Dean closed the door of his wardrobe and leaned against it, closing his eyes so he could bring that perfect face into his mind's eye. Beautiful (y/c) eyes, soft features, and an incredibly succulent mouth. He'd immediately had plans for those perfect lips and he'd already begun imagining them beneath his own, or moving down his body, slowly…

Then suddenly, he'd heard his brother's voice and was crushed in an embrace. When he pulled away, he could see the woman (Y/N?) was blushing profusely and trying to stare a hole into the ground.

He had quickly learned this woman was governess to his niece, his brother making the formal introductions. Lucy came running over and launched herself into Dean's arms.

"Uncle Dean! What did you bring me?"

"Lucy, manners." Sam had scolded. 

But Dean chuckled, and pulled gently on one of her braids. "I have lots for you, kiddo, but it's back at the station."

So, Sam had herded them all back towards the station. He'd told Lucy and her governess that they should get into the carriage as well and ride home with them, but Y/N had refused quickly, blushing again.

"No. Thank you, Sir. You're very kind, but Lucy needs to stretch her legs and wear off her energy. We'll walk back. I'll have her ready for supper at six o'clock." With that she took off with Lucy's hand in hers, walking fast enough that the little girl had to jog a bit to keep up.

"What did you do?" Sam had asked immediately, cuffing Dean none too softly in the back of the head.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I barely said two words to the woman."

"Really?" Sam asked, disbelievingly. "Well, two words from you and my level-headed, almost stoic, governess has turned into a blushing school girl."

Dean had just grinned. Sam rolled his eyes and cuffed him again.

Now Dean was changed out of his traveling clothes and into a fresh suit having bathed and rested. And he was bored once again. Sam had returned to his office in town to see his last client of the day and Jessica was out paying calls. He wandered around their modest, but beautiful home, reacquainting himself with the warm wood floors, expensive oriental rugs, and the smell of freshly cut flowers that Jessica grew in a hothouse in the back.

After a half hour, he was officially restless and all the signs of his brother's apparent domestic bliss had him desperate to find a distraction.

He wandered into the library hoping to find a book that might do the trick. Instead he found the beautiful governess he'd met so briefly. She was sitting on a green chair in the corner. She had her legs tucked up on the seat and one stocking clad ankle was showing as it peaked out from beneath her skirts. Lucy was nowhere to be seen, and he assumed she was taking an afternoon nap.

His body thrummed with desire immediately and he had to give his head a shake. He wasn't some green boy about to lift his first skirts. He needed to get control of himself.

Then she looked up from her book, sensing him, and her look of surprise mixed with the innocent desire that flooded her gaze took that control away in an instant. He pictured pulling her into his arms, and ravishing her sweet, lush mouth, which was now open slightly in surprise.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I apologize, Miss Y/L/N. I seem to startle you each time I see you."

She closed her mouth and shook her head. "Not at all, Mr. Winchester. I'll leave you to your reading." She stood to go, but Dean leaned against the closed library door and crossed his arms.

"No, I'd like you to stay, please. Can you recommend a book? What are you reading?"

She took a moment before answering, swallowing several times. She held up the small book. "It's a book about biblical poetry."

"Oh?" Dean couldn't think of anything less interesting, but he moved to her side, and took the book from her hand as an excuse to get closer.

The scent of something sweet, but spicy hit him as he stood near her, making his head foggy, so it took him a moment to register what he was reading as he looked down at the page she'd been on, it was marked with a piece of ribbon.

Taking the ribbon out, he read the words again and then looked back at Y/N with an incredulous expression. "You were reading…this?" He turned the book back to her and pointed his finger at one passage in particular.

"Yes, that's right." Y/N confirmed. "I must confess, I'm not much of a poet, it all sounds fairly confusing to me. This poem talks about a man and woman who are gardening. What a mundane subject to write poetry about." She shrugged delicately. "But it is biblical, so I thought it could only enrich my mind."

Dean couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across his face. "This is the Song of Songs. It's love poetry."

Y/N looked puzzled. "Love? Of what, gardening?"

Dean's smile deepened. "It's written in metaphor. You know what a metaphor is, don't you?"

Y/N's expression became slightly annoyed. "Of course I know what a metaphor is, I'm a governess."

"Of course." Dean said and suddenly he had a wonderful idea. "Let me see if I can help you see the metaphor here. Sit back down, and allow me to read this section to you and see if you understand."

***

Y/N was trying hard to pull air into her lungs without appearing to pant. There must be something truly wrong with her that made these kind of thoughts run through her mind. She couldn't focus her gaze on anything. When she looked into his eyes, thoughts fled completely and her mind was just a rolling mass of red haze.

So, she tried to focus on his neck. But the column of his throat and square corner of his jaw, with it's slight shadow of stubble made her breath catch again. She looked lower to where his hands held the book. But his hands were large and his fingers were long and thick, with blunt squared tips. They made visions pop into her mind's eye, visions that no respectable lady would be having. She pictured those fingers taking hold of her hand, wrapping around it, she imagined the warmth of his skin on hers, and soon she was nothing but a mass of nerves again.

She was very proud of herself for getting words past her lips. But then he'd suggested he read to her and she heard herself agreeing. A part of her mind was telling her to simply leave, but she thought it might seem rude, he was the brother of her employer after all. So she sat.

He opened to her page and began:

Awake, north wind, and come, south wind! Blow on my garden, that its fragrance may spread everywhere. Let my beloved come into his garden and taste its choice fruits. I have come into my garden, my sister, my bride; I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I have eaten my honeycomb and my honey; I have drunk my wine and my milk. I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

Y/N listened and the words themselves held no new meaning, she could find no metaphors in them. But she heard the husky timbre of his voice, heard the low rumble as his tongue and lips formed the words, and she suddenly knew that what he was saying was scandalous. She could hear the impropriety in his voice, knew it from the way it made her shiver. Quoting the bible shouldn't create such a hedonistic reaction!

She jumped to her feet, unsure of what her next move would be, but she knew she couldn't stay in this room alone with this man another minute.

Dean stood slowly, putting the book down.

"Did you like it?" He asked and his voice was rough and low, slow and drawling.

She shook her head. She definitely didn't like this feeling. Her head felt stuffed full of cotton and her body tingled. He stepped closer to her and reached out to take her hand.

It felt exactly as she had imagined. It was warm where his fingertips held hers.

"I just realized that when we were introduced earlier I was very rude. I didn't even offer a kiss for your hand."

He tugged gently on her hand and she shuffled forward until only a few inches separated them. Her breathing was rough and her mind screamed at her to pull away. But she didn't. Instead she watched as he brought the back of her hand up to meet his plump lips. They were smooth and warm, and his breath just heated her skin there.

He moved his lips slowly, turning her hand in his so he could kiss the inside pulse point of her wrist. She had to tell him to stop. He was behaving with unbelievable impropriety. But his lips…they moved again, grazing her skin as they did, up to the tip of her thumb. Then he kissed the tip of each finger, before grasping her hand more firmly and pulling her the last inch toward him, so that now she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He dipped his head and she felt his lips in the center of her palm. Suddenly she felt his tongue flick out briefly to taste her.

It was the jolt of fire that shot up her arm that brought her to her senses. She gasped loudly and wrenched her hand out of his. She stood frozen for a moment, staring at the mouth that had brought on such a feeling. Then, desperately, she bolted from the room, trying to outrun the image of the heat burning in those stunning green eyes and of the wide, sensual mouth she suddenly longed to feel against her own.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcannaa

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

[chaoticbreadcrumbs]

HAVIK EXPLAINED

⚠️SPOILERS⚠️

Thanks to the previous games Havik set himself up as a strong, very intriguing figure when it comes to his lore, firm beliefs, his iconic terrifying appearance, and unpredictability. After many years and not being involved in the MK games, the character's potential was revived as Havik took a pivotal turn in Mortal Kombat 1, establishing himself as the hero, the anti-hero, and a villain in the game's new era yet again but this time even more distinctly. His actions in the game shaped his character arc and laid significant groundwork for future narratives within the MK universe. Today I decided to explore Havik's appearances throughout the Mortal Kombat franchise.

Havik's original design was intended for Noob Cybot as an alternative skin in Mortal Kombat 4 but was scrapped. 🎮

Havik's beta name was "Skab." 🧪

Havik was first introduced in 2004's Mortal Kombat: Deception. 🕹️

Mortal Kombat: Deception (2004):

Havik originates from the Chaos Realm. 🌀

Havik is a cleric of chaos who is very protective of his home and culture. 🌪️

He seeks to spread chaos across the Realms. 🔥

He is approached by Shujinko, a supposed Earthrealm emissary of the Elder Gods, who seeks guidance from him to obtain the Kamidogu of Chaos. 🌍

Havik agrees to help Shujinko if he helps him defeat the Seidan Guard invaders (Order Realm), who have invaded the Chaos Realm and are trying to control and alter its water (which was worshipped by Chaos Realm inhabitants because of its shapeless, malleable, impossible-to-control form). ⚔️

Havik teaches Shujinko the ways of chaos and gives him the keys to obtain the Kamidogu of Chaos. 🗝️

Havik plays an active role in the events of Mortal Kombat Deception, as he sees the rise of Onaga as a threat to the Realms. 🐉

Havik wants to obtain Onaga's heart as it possesses the power to raise the dead. 💀

Havik, seeing Kabal as a valuable ally, nurses him back to health and convinces him to reform the Black Dragons. 🐲

Havik seeks out others to assist him in his cause, but it is unknown how much of a part he plays in Onaga's downfall. 🤔

By the end of the canon lore, Havik is able to somewhat fulfill his wish with Onaga's defeat but is unable to obtain his heart. (Havik wanted to restore the Chaos that once ravaged Outworld by bringing the heroes' worst enemy back to life as was shown in his non-canon ending). 💔

Mortal Kombat Armageddon (2006):

Havik plays a very minor role due to the large roster. 🎭

He appears as an illusion battling the Edenian demigod Taven. 👻

The real Havik makes his last and final appearance during the battle of Armageddon, joining the forces of darkness in their war against the light. ⚔️

Despite his connection to the Chaos Realm and his defiance of mortal laws, Havik dies during Armageddon. 💀

Comic Book:

In the MKX comic book line, Havik was portrayed as the main antagonist. 🔪

He used the blood code, a powerful form of blood magic, to enchant the kamidogu daggers. 🩸

Anyone cut by these blades would be infected by his possession, allowing him to spread chaos across the realms. 💥

Despite its initial release being canon, the comic book line was later retconned. 📚

Mortal Kombat 1 (2023):

Havik's story in the new era is drastically changed as Liu Kang's vision is one without a Chaos Realm. 🌌

Now, the title "Havik" is given to an already existing MK character named Dairou introduced in MK Deception. 🔱

Dairou was a former god of the Order Realm who was stripped of his title for killing the murderer of his family. ⚖️

Dairou strongly disliked the Order Realm and fought against it actively. ⚔️

Dairou's bio mentions the idea of chaos, but there was no connection between him and Havik until the new era. 🌀

"Once a member of the Seidan Guard. I believed in the power of Order and lived by the strict codes of my superiors. I had saved many lives during my years of service. But when I killed an assailant in a fit of rage, I was arrested and sentenced to a life of incarceration. For all the good I had done, the event that had come to define me was that one moment of Chaos. I eventually escaped during a riot incited by the Resistance. I emerged from prison a changed man. No longer would I follow orders of the Seidan. Neither could I bring myself to give in to Chaos. Instead, I opted to serve myself. I became a mercenary, a warrior for hire, and have become revered in Orderrealm's secret underground. My neutrality has been put to the test, however, as my current contract is to find and kill my former guardsman, Hotaru."

In the new era, Dairou takes on the title of Havik in defiance of the Order Realm. ⚔️

Havik does not have a family in this timeline, as his fall from grace was due to the Order Realm's belief that purging chaos was the only way to save the realm. 👪

Havik forms an uneasy partnership with Quan Chi, who grants him supernatural abilities. 🤝

Havik makes his first appearance in the game during Ashrah's chapter, where he and Darrius hand over a red crystal to Quan Chi to power her soul harvester. 🔴

Havik battles Ashrah but is defeated. ⚔️

Havik later appears at the Ying Fortress, guarding the stronghold and keeping out intruders. 🏰

Havik successfully keeps out intruders until Scorpion and Sub-Zero infiltrate the facility. 🔥❄️

Havik and Darrius are defeated by Scorpion, who melts off half of Havik's face, giving him his iconic look. 💀

Havik's story ends here in the game, but his aftermath is revealed in the game's story. 📜

After the Deadly Alliance crumbles and Titan Shang Tsung is defeated, Havik achieves his goal of cleansing Seido by causing a great flood with the help of Rain. 🌊

Tens of thousands of Seidans die, and Havik turns Seido into an anarchist Utopia. 🌪️

Another Havik emerges after the battle of Armageddon. 🌀

This Havik is a Titan variant with many followers. 🌟

He swears that the next time such madness, murder, and anarchy occur, it will never stop. ⚔️

I am sure that Havik's character will continue to grow and shock us in the most chaotic and unpredictable ways in the future. I can't wait to see him as a main villain. I mean, he definitely showed us in the last minute of the game what he is capable of.

[comphyjost]

going to watch the avs stanley cup film while doing files today just to feel something

[lynnerdo]

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Herald of the Change Current Chapter - Leaving Caladan

***

The journey to Giedi Prime was a mix of tension and excitement. As the Atreides ship descended, you couldn't ignore the anticipation thrumming through you. Upon arrival, the Harkonnen stronghold appeared as imposing as ever, the atmosphere inside laden with formality. Yet, despite the stoic surroundings, the glances exchanged between you and Feyd were almost giddy with unspoken emotion.

The formalities seemed endless. Feyd stood beside you, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the cold decorum. When he finally had a chance, he pulled you aside, his eyes filled with gratitude and warmth.

"Let me explain," he began, his voice low. "The Baron made the mistake of using poison from Caladan. Let’s just say I’ve grown quite immune to it."

He smirked, but he meant it, he was happy about it. He wanted to kiss you all over to thank you, but people were watching so he had to find the strength in him to supress the emotions. He spotted right there that you were wearing the pendant he gave you. His eyes turned soft for a few seconds when he looked at you and he had trouble abiding by his own laws.

“Feyd, I-“he cut you off by crashing his lips on yours.

He hadn’t heard your voice in so long, he forgot how mad it used to drive him even before the two of you were married. Fuck formalities, he was Baron now, he would be able to do what he wanted. You kissed him back fiercely, allowing him to press you against the wall of the cold palace, his hand snaking down your back and holding you close to him. His tongue darting on yours, making you blush at how intense and open he was with you.

“I love you, Baroness”, he whispered as he broke the kiss.

Duke Leto and Lady Jessica observed from a distance. Leto's stern expression softened, while Jessica's eyes were bright with a rare joy.

"The path is now set and secured," she said, her voice filled with reassurance and hope.

As the evening wore on, the formal events finally concluded. Your family retired to their quarters, leaving you alone with Feyd. He took your hand, his touch gentle but firm.

"Come with me," he whispered, leading you through the quiet corridors of the Harkonnen stronghold to your private room.

Once inside, Feyd turned to you, his eyes vulnerable. He knelt before you, taking both your hands in his.

"You have my loyalty and my heart."

His voice trembled with emotion, and you felt your own heart swell in response.

"I owe you everything. Your love, your support—it kept me alive. And now, all my dreams for the future, they’re because of you."

Tears welled in your eyes as the depth of his words sank in.

"I love you, beyond anything I ever thought possible," he continued, his voice breaking slightly. "Together, we can face any prophecy, any challenge."

His sincere confession made your tears flow freely. You realized in that moment just how deeply you loved each other, how your bond had become unbreakable. Feyd looked up at you, his own eyes moist with emotion, clearly surprised but moved by your tears.

"I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Whatever the future holds, as long as we’re together, I know we can face it."

Feyd rose, pulling you into a tender embrace. The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around you, made you feel safe and cherished.

"I love you," he murmured into your hair. "More than anything."

As you held each other, the significance of this moment deepened. It felt like the dawn of a new era, a future where your love would conquer all adversities. The prophecies that once seemed daunting now held a glimmer of hope.

[dottores]

okay well, i logged back in, obviously, because there are clearly some things that need to be addressed and have been taken out of context. just because i’m leaving doesn’t mean i should sit here and let my name be smeared. 

to preface this, anantaru and i had a discussion where we came to a congenial understanding of what happened, there's been an acknowledgment on both sides of misunderstanding and believing distorted rumors and people that we probably should not have, but i’m still going to give a full explanation as to the background of everything so you all can understand and come to your own opinions. plus, if there's going to be a call-out post directed majorly at me made, i want an official address of it.

please do NOT send any hate their way, we have ended this discussion on good terms and have worked out what exactly was stirring this discourse between us. (spoiler alert: there was a third-party shit-stirrer that we both considered a decent friend at the time!)

i don’t really need a reason to block someone, and i shouldn’t have to explain it, but i did and i will again but more explicitly this time: @/anantaru made a post that i did not like. it’s as simple as that. it was a post about genshin characters and sex icks and one of the lines were “venti: too drunk.” i’m not anti-dc, but there are topics that i am sensitive about because i was sa’d in my freshman year of college—that is something i have talked about on this blog before, many of you who've been around since my tr era are aware of it. i acknowledged, and tee acknowledged, that this was probably a joke and was not meant to be taken the way i took it, but the aloof/casual way it was mentioned without any TW of implied dubcon, and without acknowledging that it was at least dubcon and could border on noncon in certain interpretations made me uncomfortable. i don’t mind seeing it as long as i’m warned. if it was tagged properly, i would have moved on without much care, but it wasn’t, so i was scrolling through the post snorting and was hit with that and i was made uncomfortable because i didn't like how it was just being passed off as an ick, and i blocked. there was no reason for it to go beyond what it did, yet we are here. anantaru mentioned that if you frequent their blog, you would know that they often write about venti and reader being drunk—i don’t frequent their blog, in fact this was my first encounter with them being reblogged onto my dash by shared mutuals, so it rubbed me wrong. thats the end of it. 

i’m not sure the exact timing, but i believe it was two(?) weeks after this, when i reblogged an unpopular opinion’s post with an opinion that i thought was fairly harmless. sure, looking back on it i could have phrased it better, i’m not going to deny that, but pinpointing my one opinion out of the hundreds of others that were objectively far more controversial than mine and crucifying me for it is uncalled for. you guys know very well that i do not have the time or energy to sift through random people’s blogs to look for minors. every once in a while i glance at the notes of shit posts that happen to be on my dash and i’d be a bit startled at finding a minor in them because i still do think you should at least try to catch minors who interact with shit posts because that’s the easiest way to find them. but i was working at a medium sized firm for a year and a half at the time of the post and i am currently in law school, i do not have the time to be psychotic about people’s likes and interaction, and even if i did have the time?? i’ve always gotten incredible interaction from y’all lmfao, imposing the idea that i’m jealous is entirely inane. i do still stand by the fact that my words were twisted, i was made out, more than once and by more than one person after the next bullet point's events, to have been some psycho that stalks peoples’ posts for excuses as to why they get interaction when that is simply not the case. 

regardless, after this incident, anantaru made a vague post that was almost directly quoting my tags from the reblog and was thus sent to me because many shared mutuals put together that it was about my tags. this was upsetting for multiple reasons 1) i had blocked anantaru by this point so i felt a bit violated that i was being vagued for something by someone that i blocked. 2) i started getting hate anons en masse after it, some of which were very unnecessarily explicit. needless to say, i was very upset and made a subpost on my main account after noticing i’ve been blocked on ao3 because 1) i was already upset and i didn’t even know why anantaru seemed to have it out for me much less go to the point of blocking on ao3 which leads into my next point and 2) i thought it was a bit ridiculous because the only thing blocking on ao3 stops is people from commenting on posts and i clearly was not going to comment on a post of someone who i was not on good terms with. reasoning aside, anantaru can block who they want and i was out of line for making comments about that in particular. i’ll admit that, and apologize for it. 

a screenshot was taken from my personal—not a good moment for me, obviously, but anantaru claimed in their post that it was about them with no evidence. i dmed them about this in particular because i was genuinely confused, we spoke about it, i offered them proof that it was not them because i had a discussion about this post with a close friend at the time of posting it and they believed me. i will attach screenshots below (cropped because there's no reason to attach the whole conversation) because i feel as if this accusation was rather extreme and i wish it would’ve been removed because it was obviously not my best moment. an explanation for the post itself, i was upset over plagiarism accusations regarding something i put my heart and soul into and then seeing the same person that made them consistently on my dash just straight up triggered me, for lack of a better word lol, so i made a vent on my personal. how it got misconstrued as to be anything about anantaru is baffling to me but i suppose that's a question for the subject of our next bullet point. i don’t want to go into detail about the accusations in themselves because i don’t want people to send the actual person who it’s about hate. regardless, that post was not about anantaru, i have never called them a cunt nor have i ever called them a gatekeepy cunt, though i’m beginning to think i should probably remove the word from my vocabulary atp, i use it far too flippantly. anyway, i do not know them well enough to formulate any sort of opinion like that. aside from that, in our discussion we came to an understanding over it and i wish that would have been cleared on their blog as wel. so i'll attach here (i crossed some out because i don't want to breach any boundaries regarding what anantaru might be comfortable sharing but i do think it's fair for me to want this particular point fully cleared as it was a bold accusation remaining up):

5. in our discussion, we came to realize that we have/had a shared mutual who was fostering discourse between the two of us. many of you will recognize her as audri aka alucrds, who has supposedly left tumblr by this point—i suspected this and anantaru has confirmed it while we were talking. audri was sending anantaru my posts claiming that they were about anantaru, but i will stress that the only actual discussions i ever had with anyone about anantaru was with tee and eris about that initial joke because it had upset me at the time, it never extended beyond that and it certainly was never with audri. my only conversation with audri that mentioned anantaru at all was probably around a week or so after i made the post in point 3, when audri asked me about ao3 blocking in casual conversation and i offhandedly mentioned that anantaru had blocked me on there—audri was a close friend at that point and iirc, she had actually told me right after that that anantaru had her blocked on tumblr, i had no idea that they'd been mutuals at all but either way, it was an offhanded comment that led to nowhere (or so i thought LOL). looking back on it, it was clearly her baiting me into giving her information about the post i made a week or so prior because after talking with anantaru, they explained that they got an anonymous message claiming that i was shit talking them for blocking them on ao3 and the only person that could have put together that the vent post from point 3 was about anantaru was audri herself. audri continued to evidently cherry-pick random vent posts of mine to show anantaru and claim that they were about them. why? i wish i could tell you. i considered audri a decent enough friend, and though she had her fair share of issues with mutuals and other friends of mine, i never really thought she’d stoop to this with me. but i guess there’s really no explaining people who thrive in discourse.

6. my comment in my most recent post about being harassed on ao3 and in comments and in asks was not about them at all. i thought it was very clearly about heliotropes (my dottore series) and pressure to update from certain readers, but i'm clarifying that now.

7. i never intended on directly addressing this, which is why i did not directly name anantaru in my post, if i’d known at the time that tee was going to end up addressing all of this, i would’ve just been straight up with all of it.

anyway, i think that’s all, hopefully this will be the last post for real as i am tired mentally and now i am also physically sleep deprived. i've been up since three so forgive me for typos and grammar errors. this all has gone on for over a year. sorry for all the discourse on y'all's dash, wish i could have left with a bit more grace than this. rumors have been blown out of proportions and blindly believed, things have been taken out of context, such is life. i made my fair share of mistakes on my personal blog with my vents, others have admitted and owned up to their own mistakes, some will never admit to their mistakes. such is life. it moves on, always does. i know all of y'all are smart enough to come to your own opinions.

over and out, sorry again, and logged out (hopefully for real this time),

cat

[garglyswoof]

Fragile Things

ao3 For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marci like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could. 

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night. 

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office. 

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening. 

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

---------------------------------

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marci, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her. 

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now. 

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor. 

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows. 

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing. 

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell? 

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.” 

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass.  “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?” 

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.” 

She almost laughs. 

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt.  “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time. 

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

[yoonavii]

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Regency Era! Law x F! reader

Description: Lady Y/N defies societal norms with her down-to-earth nature, setting her apart from other noble ladies. During her debut, she captures the attention of numerous suitors, but her heart is unexpectedly drawn to Lord Trafalgar Law, a brooding and mysterious Duke known for his coldness towards women. As their relationship develops, they face the challenges of unraveling Lord Trafalgar’s enigmatic nature and navigating their contrasting personalities amidst societal expectations. Will their connection withstand the obstacles they encounter? or will it crumble?

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

As the viscount walks down the main hallway, his steps echo with a sense of purpose and authority. He positions himself in front of the grand entrance, prepared to greet the families who have arrived for the gala. Beside him stands his wife, the viscountess, a complicated mix of emotions churning within him. He casts a sidelong glance at his wife, his expression a mask of controlled anger. The knowledge of her betrayal weighs heavily on his heart, but he understands the need to set his personal grievances aside for the sake of the gathering.

In a tense silence, the viscountess breaks the stillness, her voice carrying a mixture of defiance and determination. She mentions the importance of finding a suitable match for y/n during the gala, her words laced with a misguided sense of authority. The viscount’s gaze hardens, his eyes narrowing as he locks eyes with his wife. He speaks, his voice a low growl that carries a subtle warning. “You would do well to stay out of matters concerning our daughter,” he asserts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I will not allow history to repeat itself.”

He recalls the painful lessons learned from the ill-fated marriage of his eldest daughter, a tragedy that had scarred the family deeply. He resolutely reminds his wife of the consequences that befell their family, the loss and heartbreak they endured. He refuses to subject y/n to a similar fate. The viscount’s words hang in the air, his unwavering resolve painting a picture of a father fiercely protective of his daughter’s well-being. In that moment, he asserts his authority, vowing to shield y/n from any potential harm or manipulation. As the viscountess listens to the viscount’s stern words, a flicker of defiance dances in her eyes. She meets his gaze, her own filled with a mix of resentment and frustration. Her voice carries a touch of arrogance as she responds to his warning. “And what would you know about finding a suitable match for our daughter?” she retorts, her tone laced with condescension. “You’ve always been blinded by your own pride and stubbornness.”

The viscount’s jaw tightens, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes. He inhales deeply, his resolve evident as he maintains his composure. “I may not always have made the right decisions, but I will not allow you to jeopardize y/n’s happiness” he asserts, his voice firm and unwavering. The viscountess scoffs, a derisive smile playing on her lips. “Your concern for y/n’s happiness is nothing more than an illusion,” she retorts, her words dripping with disdain. “You care only for your reputation and your precious family name.”

The viscount’s nostrils flare, a mixture of frustration and hurt crossing his face. He clenches his fists, battling to maintain his composure in the face of his wife’s cutting remarks. “You know nothing of my intentions and the lengths I would go to protect our daughter.” he counters, his voice laced with quiet determination. A tense silence fills the air between them, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the space. The viscountess, realizing the depth of her husband’s conviction, looks away, her defiance momentarily subdued. As the first guests begin to arrive, the viscount and the viscountess stand side by side, their expressions guarded and their emotions simmering beneath the surface. The air is charged with an unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills that will shape the course of the evening. Despite the lingering animosity, a shared understanding emerges. They both desire what they believe is best for you, even if their paths to achieving it diverge. For now, they must set aside their differences, don their social masks, and navigate the intricate dance of high society.

With a deep breath, the viscount takes his wife’s arm and leads her forward, their steps synchronized yet their hearts still in conflict. As they greet the arriving families, their gestures and smiles belie the underlying tensions, a delicate facade of unity maintained for the sake of their esteemed guests. As the carriages line up outside the Claydall estate, a sense of anticipation fills the air. Nobles adorned in their finest attire step out, their garments exuding elegance and opulence. The viscount and viscountess stand at the entrance, their smiles carefully crafted, as they welcome the arriving guests with gracious hospitality.

Amongst the distinguished crowd, the viscount’s gaze falls upon a familiar face – Edward Newgate, his close friend and trusted confidant. Their friendship has weathered the tests of time, providing solace and support in moments of both triumph and despair. With a warm smile, the viscount extends his hand to Edward, embracing him in a heartfelt welcome. “It is good to see you, Edward,” the viscount says, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “We truly have much to catch up on.”

Edward’s eyes twinkle with delight as he returns the gesture, gripping the viscount’s arm in a friendly manner. “Indeed, my friend,” he replies, his voice rich with familiarity. “It has been far too long since we last shared stories and laughter.” The viscount nods, a glimmer of nostalgia crossing his eyes. He leads Edward away from the bustling crowd, seeking a moment of privacy to reconnect and reminisce. As they make their way towards a quiet corner, the viscountess is left standing alone, her eyes following their departure.

Slightly isolated from the conversations and festivities, the viscountess observes the interactions around her, her expression a mix of curiosity and discontent. Her eyes meet those of other noblewomen, some filled with intrigue, others with veiled judgment. The weight of societal expectations rests heavily upon her, threatening to suffocate her spirit.

Resigned to her current position, the viscountess maintains a composed facade, masking the turmoil within. She straightens her posture, ensuring her smile remains poised and her words carry the expected grace and charm. In the depths of the Claydall estate, the viscount and Edward find refuge in the solitude of the bathroom, away from prying eyes and the cacophony of the gala. Behind closed doors, their conversation drifts between lighter anecdotes and deeper reflections, their shared camaraderie serving as a reminder of the unbreakable bond between friends.

In the seclusion of the bathroom, the viscount opens up to his trusted friend, Edward, about the troubles that have plagued his marriage. With a heavy sigh, he confides in Edward, his voice filled with regret and weariness.“I find myself in a difficult position with my wife,” the viscount admits, his words laced with a tinge of sadness. “I regret marrying her, as our union has become a source of constant strife and discord.” Edward listens attentively, his eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. He places a reassuring hand on the viscount’s shoulder, offering a silent gesture of support.

“It pains me to see you burdened by such a situation,” Edward replies, his voice calm and soothing. “You know I have always valued our friendship, and I am here for you Laken.” The viscount’s eyes meet Edward’s, gratitude shining through his wearied gaze. “Your friendship has been a constant source of solace for me,” Laken admits, his voice tinged with gratitude. “I appreciate your willingness to lend an ear and extend a helping hand.”

Edward offers a comforting smile, his gaze filled with unwavering loyalty. “Whatever assistance you may require, know that I am ready to aid you in any way I can,” he assures the viscount, his words carrying a sense of genuine commitment. The viscount’s tense shoulders relax slightly, the weight of his troubles momentarily eased by Edward’s presence. In the intimate confines of the bathroom, the viscount finds solace in the words and unwavering support of his steadfast friend.

Their conversation continues, delving deeper into the complexities of the viscount’s marriage, as well as potential solutions and avenues for change. The viscount takes comfort in the understanding and guidance offered by Edward, knowing that he is not alone in navigating the challenges of love, loyalty, and family. Outside the confines of the bathroom, the gala unfolds, a whirlwind of dazzling conversations and shimmering gowns. The viscount and Edward rejoin the festivities, their faces a mask of composure and camaraderie, their shared secrets kept safely hidden from prying eyes.

As the duke and Lord Ace make their grand entrance into the gala, a hushed silence falls over the crowd. Whispers ripple through the room, carrying tales of the duke’s enigmatic past and his notorious aloofness. The nobles, intrigued by his unexpected presence, steal furtive glances in his direction, their curiosity piqued. Law, maintaining his signature air of indifference, scans the room with a critical eye. His gaze lands on Lord Ace, his childhood friend and partner in mischief. A wry smile tugs at the corners of the Duke’s lips as he comments on Ace’s well-known reputation as a playboy.

“Ah, Ace,” the Duke remarks, his voice laced with subtle amusement. “Always the charmer, aren’t you?” Ace grins mischievously, leaning in closer to Law. “What can I say Law? It’s hard to resist when the ladies adore me,” he teases, his voice filled with playful bravado. The Duke rolls his eyes, his expression a blend of fond exasperation and camaraderie. “You never cease to amaze me with your antics,” he retorts, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration.

Their banter fills the air, momentarily overshadowing the whispers that surround them. The nobles, captivated by the presence of these two enigmatic figures, find themselves drawn to the energy and intrigue that emanates from their interaction. Unbeknownst to them, the dynamics of the evening are subtly shifting, their actions and choices intertwining with the lives of those around them. In the midst of the grand gala, where secrets lie beneath the veneer of elegance, the paths of the duke and Lord Ace will cross with unexpected consequences, setting in motion a chain of events that will shape the course of their destinies.

———-

The sounds of the live orchestra fill the air, its melodic strains weaving through the elegant dance hall. Guests, adorned in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, enter the grand space, their presence lending an air of sophistication and excitement to the atmosphere. The viscount, determined and focused, engages in animated conversations with high-ranking gentlemen and influential officials. His vision of expanding his gentlemen club captures their attention, igniting their curiosity and sparking discussions about potential collaborations and partnerships. The viscount eloquently articulates his plans, exuding a confidence that captivates those around him. Meanwhile, the viscountess revels in the attention and adulation of her lady circle. She regales them with tales of her accomplishments, skillfully crafting her words to accentuate her own triumphs. Her voice carries with it an air of superiority, drawing eager listeners who hang on to her every word, captivated by her social standing and ostentatious stories.

As the dance hall fills with lively conversations and the clinking of glasses, the aura of anticipation grows. The nobles and social elites navigate the intricate web of social dynamics, seeking connections and alliances that will bolster their own standing in society. Amidst the glittering backdrop of the gala, the ambitions, desires, and insecurities of each guest intertwine, creating a tapestry of intricate relationships and clandestine agendas. The dance floor beckons, enticing couples to twirl in graceful harmony, their movements a reflection of the delicate balance between tradition and passion. Outside the grand ballroom, secret meetings take place in secluded corners, hidden from prying eyes. Whispers of intrigue and whispered promises of alliances fill the air, further fueling the undercurrents of power and influence that permeate the event.

As you descend the steps, your hand held by a loyal maid, you feel a mixture of nervous anticipation and excitement. This is a rare moment for you, breaking free from the confines of strict rules and the sheltered life you have led. The grand ballroom awaits, filled with the elite of society, eager to catch a glimpse of a Lady such as yourself. As you enter the ballroom, all eyes turn to you, their gazes lingering in awe and admiration. The room seems to hush momentarily, as if the air itself recognizes your entrance. The whispers of anticipation ripple through the crowd, each individual eager to experience the presence of the highly acclaimed Lady Y/n. Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, approach you with a mixture of confidence and nervousness. They vie for your attention, introducing themselves with charm and charisma. Their flattering words echo in your ears as they strive to make an impression, hoping to capture your interest and perhaps even your heart. Mothers, ever watchful for advantageous connections, bring their daughters forward, their eyes gleaming with hope. They introduce their offspring, their voices carrying a mix of excitement and expectation. Each mother aims to secure a place for their daughter in your esteemed circle, hoping that a friendship with you will elevate their social standing.

Overwhelmed by the flurry of attention, you take a moment to gather yourself. With a deep breath, you remind yourself of the importance of staying patient and gracious. You navigate the sea of introductions with poise, engaging in polite conversation, and offering genuine smiles. Amidst the symphony of conversations and the graceful movements on the dance floor, you find solace in the genuine connections you form. Engaging in meaningful dialogue, you discover common interests, shared values, and the potential for lasting friendships. Each encounter is an opportunity to understand the hearts and minds of those around you, to glimpse the multifaceted world beyond your own sheltered existence.

———

As the Duke’s gaze sweeps across the ballroom, he notices a gathering of gentlemen surrounding Lady Y/n. He listens with an air of detachment as their flirty remarks and attempts at charm drift towards his ears. Though he tries to ignore their advances, a faint annoyance tugs at the corner of his mind.

His antisocial nature often shields him from the frivolous conversations and superficial interactions that dominate social gatherings. While others revel in the dance of courtship and display their charms, he remains aloof, seeking solace in the quiet corners of the room.

Yet, there is something about Lady Y/n that captures his attention. A curiosity stirs within him, compelling him to observe her interactions with a subtle intrigue. He watches as she handles the attention with grace and poise, deflecting advances with a blend of politeness and discernment. The Duke’s gaze lingers on Lady Y/n, drawn to her presence amidst the swirling sea of social connections. He finds himself silently acknowledging the allure that surrounds her, even as he guards his own heart from such distractions.

Unbeknownst to Lady Y/N, her mere presence has evoked a flicker of interest in the Duke, an emotion that seldom stirs within him. Though he may resist the pull, there is an undeniable fascination that lingers in the depths of his stoic demeanor. As the night progresses and the festivities unfold, the Duke continues to observe from a distance, his thoughts and emotions shrouded in a veil of mystery. The dance of courtship and the pursuit of romantic connections may seem trivial to him, but the enigma of Lady Y/n lingers in his mind, sparking a curiosity that refuses to be extinguished.

————-

As you approach the Duke, a smile graces your lips, your heart pounding with excitement. The room seems to hold its breath as all eyes turn toward you, anticipation palpable in the air. With graceful confidence, you extend your dance card to the Duke, your voice carrying a playful tone. “Good evening, Your Grace. Would you be so kind as to grace my dance card with your esteemed presence?” The Duke’s piercing gaze meets yours, his expression guarded. A moment of silence hangs between you, the tension crackling like electricity. “Lady Y/n, I must admit, your audacity surprises me.” He says coldly “What makes you think I would be interested in a dance with you?”

In a playful tone, you brush off the Duke’s initial coldness, refusing to be discouraged. With a twinkle in your eye, you manage to charm him into signing your dance card. “Well, Your Grace, I have heard whispers of your unparalleled skills on the dance floor. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to experience it firsthand.” The Duke’s icy exterior cracks ever so slightly as he looks down, processing your response. The Duke’s gaze then meets yours again, his intense golden eyes assessing you with a hint of intrigue. His lips curve into a subtle smile, a rare sight that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. “You are quite the persuasive one, Lady Y/n. Very well, I shall grant your request.” He takes the pen from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. With practiced elegance, he signs his name on your dance card. As the ink dries, a murmur ripples through the crowd, whispers of astonishment and admiration. The other gentlemen, eager to secure a dance with you, rush forward, their voices blending into a cacophony of requests.

“Gentlemen, please. Let us maintain order and courtesy.” You announced gracefully “There will be plenty of dances to go around.” Your words have a calming effect, and the crowd slowly settles, each gentleman eagerly adding his name to your dance card. With the Duke’s name already signed, you feel a mixture of exhilaration and nervous anticipation. The ballroom is abuzz with excitement, a symphony of laughter and music filling the air.

You exchange a final glance with the Duke, a silent understanding passing between you. It’s a fleeting moment, charged with unspoken possibilities. The room seems to fade away as you imagine the dance that awaits, a dance that could change everything.

————-

As the last group dance comes to an end, the next one, the elegant Cotillion, begins. You gracefully navigate the ballroom, scanning the crowd for the one person you’ve been hoping to dance with—the Duke. Catching his eye, a faint smile plays on your lips as he approaches you, extending his hand for the dance. The music envelops you both as you glide across the polished floor, your steps synchronized with the intricate choreography of the Cotillion. Amidst the graceful twirls and precise footwork, you find a moment to express your gratitude to the Duke for his earlier warning about the treacherous creek during your horse ride. “I want to thank you sincerely, Your Grace, for your timely warning about the creek. Your concern was most appreciated.” He glances at you, his demeanor composed and aloof. “As a gentleman, it is my duty to offer assistance when necessary. Your reckless riding called for caution.” Your brows furrow slightly in surprise and offense at his curt remark. However, you refuse to be undermined and swiftly gather your thoughts, ready to defend yourself. “Reckless? I assure you, Your Grace, my riding skills are impeccable. I might have taken a risk, but I was in complete control of the situation. I value your concern, but please do not underestimate my abilities.” The Duke’s now piercing gaze meets yours, his features betraying a flicker of astonishment at your boldness. The dance continues, the air tinged with an unexpected tension. Driven by a mix of pride and frustration, you decide to deliver a sharp retort to the Duke’s aloofness. Without another word, you gracefully break away from his hold and stride away, leaving him momentarily stunned.

Unbeknownst to you, your mother, the Viscountess, observes the exchange from a distance. Her gaze flickers with concern and intrigue as she witnesses your heated interaction with the Duke. Determined to understand the cause of your sudden clash, she excuses herself from her circle of acquaintances and discreetly makes her way towards you. As the Cotillion unfolds, whispers ripple through the crowd, spreading the tale of your spirited encounter with the enigmatic Duke. The guests exchange curious glances, their intrigue piqued by the unexpected clash between you and one of the most influential figures in the room.

———

You hastily make your way outside the grand ballroom, the heavy doors closing behind you with a thud. The cool night air embraces you, offering a respite from the intensity of the gala. Finding solace in the family garden, you settle on a weathered bench, seeking refuge in the symphony of nature’s nocturnal creatures. The soothing sounds of chirping crickets and distant owls fill the air, providing a calming backdrop to your racing thoughts. As you try to regain your composure and process the events that unfolded with the Duke, you reflect on your uncharacteristic outburst and its potential consequences. “I can’t believe I acted that way.” You thought to yourself “It’s not like me to engage in such confrontations. I must have let my emotions get the better of me.” Lost in contemplation, you find a semblance of tranquility amidst the natural serenity of the garden. However, your moment of introspection is abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Your mother emerges from the ballroom, her countenance a mix of concern and disapproval. She rushes over to you, her voice tinged with annoyance.

“Y/n, what on earth were you thinking? Leaving your dance with the Duke like that? You have just ruined any chance you had with him. I can’t believe you could be so impulsive!” Her scolding words pierce through the calm ambiance, shattering the fragile peace that enveloped you. Your glare intensifies as your mother continues her scolding, the weight of your earlier confrontation in the tea room still fresh in your mind. The strained relationship between you fuels the fire of defiance within you, sparking a flame of independence “You know nothing of what truly happened, stepmother. I suggest we leave it that way. It’s best for both of us.”

Your words strike a nerve, causing the viscountess to bristle with anger. She raises her hand, ready to strike, but before she can follow through, a gentleman intervenes, his voice carrying authority and a hint of warning. “I advise you to halt this confrontation, Viscountess.” The man said “We are in the presence of many watchful eyes.” His words hang in the air, a reminder of the delicate balance between decorum and scandal that permeates high society. You look up, your eyes adjusting to the dimly lit surroundings, revealing the gentleman’s presence. Moonlight casts a soft glow upon his chiseled face and hints at the hue of his hair, which appears to be a shade of green.

The viscountess, caught off guard by the sudden interruption, gazes at the gentleman with a mix of surprise and recognition. It dawns on her that she stands before none other than Prince Geno Tesoro, the next heir to the kingdom of Gran Tesoria, and his presence demands respect. “Apologies for the disturbance, Your Highness.” Your stepmother blurted out, Courtesy as well. “It was a momentary lapse of judgment.” As the viscountess quickly retreats, leaving the scene with a humbled demeanor, Prince Geno turns his attention to you. He gently takes hold of your hands, his concern evident in his expression. “Are you alright?” The prince asked softly “That was quite an intense exchange. I hope it hasn’t dampened your spirits for the evening.”

You compose yourself and respond to Prince Geno, thanking him for his timely intervention. The Prince’s charming demeanor and flattering words slightly fluster you, making your heart race. “Thank you, Your Highness, for stepping in. I really appreciate your help.” Prince Geno, his charm on full display, smiles warmly at you, his sea blue eyes sparkling.

“It was my pleasure, my lady. I couldn’t bear to see such a spirited young woman caught in such a predicament. Your resilience is truly admirable.” As Prince Geno continues to engage you in conversation, his words flow effortlessly and his gestures captivating. You find yourself drawn to his presence, his compliments and attentiveness igniting a sense of excitement and curiosity within you.

Unbeknownst to you and Prince Geno, your exchange doesn’t go unnoticed. From a secluded spot nearby, the Duke watches with a mix of intrigue and jealousy. His gaze lingers on you, a tinge of regret swirling within him. The Duke’s thoughts drift, and he finds himself questioning his own reserved nature and its consequences. He observes the connection between you and Prince Geno, a hint of jealousy flickering in his eyes. Perhaps, for the first time, he begins to question the path he has chosen and the potential he may have overlooked.

As the evening unfolds, the Duke remains conflicted, caught between the emotions stirring within him and the duty he has always upheld. The presence of Prince Geno and the unexpected turn of events leave him contemplating the possibilities and what they may mean for his own heart.

—————

As the staff meticulously arrange the dining table, ensuring every detail is perfect, the atmosphere in the room grows more vibrant. The aroma of the sumptuous dishes fills the air, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight. The table becomes a masterpiece of culinary art, a feast fit for nobility. Chef Crosby takes utmost care in plating each dish, skillfully arranging them to showcase their flavors and textures. The fresh seafood glistens enticingly, the succulent pork releases a tantalizing aroma, and the specialty dishes stand out as culinary gems.

Meanwhile, the diligent staff members light the room with flickering candles, casting a warm glow on the exquisite setting. They meticulously place the delicate plates and gleaming silverware, ensuring everything is in its rightful place. Among the staff members, Emily, with her innocent smile, slyly switches a few name tags on the table. Her mischievous act goes unnoticed, but it holds a secret intention—to bring you and the Duke together at the dining table. She believes that fate may have a hand in uniting two souls, even amidst the grandeur of the gala.

©𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[sinofwriting]

Your Sweets and Daniel make my feelings all mushy. Like they’re the cutest.

What’s was the other drivers’ reactions to them dating?

I know they don’t wanna care but at the same time I feel like Sweets could feel a bit more worried maybe, especially after maybe PR trying to tell Daniel that people are questioning character or something. But we know Daniel for the wiiin he would never allow Sweets to try and push him away…at least I don’t think? I’m not entirely sure how you plan on writing them 🖤

I had to do so much thinking about this ask and I apologize for such a long wait.

So from the first part, where Sweets and Daniel reveal that they're together, we already know (or i already know) that a few drivers have known that they are together. (Putting the rest under read more)

The drivers that found out before the reveal are: Max, Charles, Lando, Sebastian, and Lance.

Lance finds out from Scotty and his sister. More so Scotty, because he couldn't shut his mouth about how his sister in law was going to be a singer. Lance doesn't have much of a reaction, a little how the fuck did you manage that? But is whatever.

Sebastian is the first driver Daniel tells. Daniel had been in a serious relationship or two before this, but nothing like what him and Sweets have, which is forever. So he goes to the one guy he knows understands what forever is in a relationship. Sebastian doesn't mind the relationship (is a little flattered that Daniel came to him about it), but does hope that they both know what they're doing.

Lando, Max and Charles, find out about them around the four month mark.

Lando is a bit jealous, he's got a bit of a sharing problem, but he also never says it outloud but he thinks the two are crazy for how serious they're treating the relationship.

Charles loves it, and he's happy that Daniel trusts him with this, considering they had some rocky moments. He also is the first driver to become friends with Sweets and is the only one to view himself as more of her friend than Daniel's by the time they reveal their relationship to everyone else.

Max is wary. He's seen Daniel in a few relationships. Seen the way Daniel has loved but never really put everything into it and Max doesn't know how to feel/think with how Daniel is putting his all into this one. After meeting Sweets though (and Max refuses to think about their first meeting more than he ever has too), Max realizes why Daniel has put is all into this relationship and likes Sweets, thinks she's a good fit for Daniel.

Okay, now onto to drivers who found out when everyone else did by reaction.

Thought it was cool/great: Mick, Pierre, George, Yuki, Nico, Fernando, Alex, Logan

Didn't care (aka no reaction): Kevin, Carlos, Nyck, Zhou, Valtteri, Checo, Oscar

Judgement: Esteban, Lewis

Sidenote: Logan and Sweets in this vaguely know each other, so Logan was stoked when he found out.

Now about Esteban and Lewis, because I don't want to get flamed. Esteban is judging her heavily here, because he once tried hitting on her at a party (she has no recollection of this) and she just stonewalled him.

Lewis is judging both of them, but he also judges all of the drivers and their girlfriends. He is still in his hoe era and thinks that getting into a serious relationship while still being on the grid is a bit stupid and will backfire on you. He was a bit whatever about it until finding out that they got together while Daniel was at McLaren, and then the judgement came in. He also is the only one that has a problem with age difference, he'll never say anything, but he's a firm believer that age differences like that are meant for one night stands/situationships, not an actual relationship.

You also mentioned PR and let me tell you, her PR not so happy, not because of the relationship itself, but more because they act like teenagers who aren't in the spotlight when they are one not teenagers and two very much in the spotlight.

Red Bull on the other hand fucking loves it. People having an issue with an age difference means nothing to them (ie: max and kelly) also dealing with Sweets and Daniels online antics is easier than the occasional shitstorm certain people cause for them.

This was so fun to think and write about.

Explore the listen, please verse here