#been saying it's because of delayed shipment

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter VIII

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, impending doom sort of arrives, lots of kissing so we can call luna a serial kisser now-

chapter wc: 11.7k

chapter synopsis: jaemin informs you about the political shift with the sirens turning on president lee because of his involvement with a strictland official. you finally have a conversation with yeosang and at the bar, you decide to confirm your relationship with the boys. they warmly welcome you as a true leader. meanwhile, at the port, the illegal shipment to mist island returns unexpectedly with the navy hot on the crescents’ tail.

prev chapter recap: on your last day in edenary, you go prepared to the ju residence where eden newspaper’s 50th anniversary is being celebrated. you learn about the cuff bracelet hongjoong gave you from sunmi, heiress to maddox and co.. you meet chan of wolfgang and he shares tips about assemblyman kim. you are surprised when the assemblyman recognises you from years ago and you offer him the crescents’ support. you return to sector 1 and the crescents catch up with each other. you make up with hongjoong and he admits the bracelet he designed was intended to match the crescents’ rings. he has delayed madame tiffany’s deal and you are still waiting to hear back from madame cha. anxious, you go to the bar to find yeosang but run across san who offers a drinking session at his house. you get honest with each other and you learn about the crescents’ relationship. the night ends on a romantic note and you make up your mind about the crescents. you hear back from madame cha’s gang member, jaebeom, only after hongjoong signs the deal. he implies that the crescents’ doom might be around the corner.

“Good day, Missy,” the fifteen-year old Jaemin took off his newsboy cap to bow, ever the gentleman.

“That’s Miss Luna for you,” you tried keeping the smirk to yourself but the young informant was far too observant to miss it.

“Just Luna then,” he set his cap on his hair. “I bring news for the Captain.”

“And if you’re his informant, you must know that I am the Captain when he’s not present– sort of. At least, for you.”

“I’d say you’ve become the chief mate,” Jaemin considered, attempting to do some justice to the rankings. “I should make this official. The Captain has found his mate.”

The Captain has found his mate. You covered your cheeks to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“Considering you’re lounging in his office and all,” he added with a shrug, continuing to inform you that he never saw this coming. The last time you had interacted, you were still a bookkeeper bordering the lines of a secretary. 

“Lounging is not the right word. I’m working,” you motioned at the documents splayed out on the table and he pointed at your cross-legged position.

“Don’t let the Captain catch you like that. He’ll discipline you.”

“Oh, shut up already,” you told him, beckoning him to sit. “What’s the news?”

“I still don’t know if I can trust you, so if you do me wrong, I will be out for blood, but,” he stopped you before you could throw something at him. “There’s been a shift in politics. The Sirens have crucified President Lee.”

“President Lee?” You asked. “Not General Wi? I thought he was their target. Doesn’t the Siren Rebel Party work to make sure that the military does not pull the strings of the parliament?”

“That’s right,” he folded his arm, proud to be the bearer of this news. “The Sirens have been protesting against a possible martial law for a while, because that would mean the army gets to make decisions regarding the issue with Strictland and its immigrants here. But anyways, they won’t publish this in the newspaper. Mr. Jang of Eden News is acquainted with President Lee so he will take special care not to publish anything about the scene the Sirens created. He’ll make sure nothing gets out.”

“Hold on,” you said. “One thing at a time. What scene did they create?”

“I’ve heard that they made a puppet of President Lee and set it on fire,” he said and you grimaced. “The cops got to them and they had to flee. They will try to torture the information out of the ones they caught, but I think they will still get away with it. They always do.”

“Woah,” you grimaced. “Now, how are Mr. Jang and President Lee connected?”

“I thought you would know, considering you’re an Edenary citizen and all,” he said and you shrugged. You were aware that the partners, Mr. Jang and Mr. Ju, didn’t see eye to eye on all things but made good partners nonetheless. 

Jaemin continued. “I don’t know how much they go back but when President Han was killed, there weren’t many articles published in the newspapers. Only the Edenary citizens who were present at that time have an idea of how exactly the events of her death took place– the rest only know the rumours that she was assassinated, some not even aware that it happened at a public event.”

“Hmm… why would he not publish articles about his wife getting killed like that? It could have earned him votes, if nothing else.”

“That’s what’s strange. He claims he kept it under covers to respect his wife but he never shuts up about it in his campaigns and broadcasts,” Jaemin said. 

“Why do you think President Lee was targeted this time?” You asked.

“Oh, right. That’s the thing– apparently a Hala Official is arriving soon for ‘discussion’ on the improvement of relations between the two nations. The Sirens claim that the man should not be the face of that discussion because he usually handles the Strictland affairs and is known to play dirty–”

“He’s related to Strictland?” You narrowed your eyes.

“That’s what I said,” Jaemin leaned forward, clasping his hands in a manner similar to a certain boss of a certain company. “He was present when the Treaty happened. He’s not very famous even in Halaland, so it’s kind of strange but not strange at the same time because he is a Hala official. The Sirens must have thought things might take a weird turn after their meeting, so that’s what they protested.”

“And they won’t mention this in the newspaper.”

“Right,” Jaemin concluded with a grin. “Juicy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” you muttered. “How did you find all this out?”

“Oh, I just run errands for the elites,” he said casually, getting up. “But I only answer to the Captain.”

“How loyal,” you smiled. “How did you manage to get him to take you seriously?”

“I told him a Captain must have a pet by his side– someone who can shapeshift and be his eyes and ears. Someone as loyal as a dog, as sneaky as a rat, as sly as a fox, and as cute as a bunny–”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t mention the last part,” you chuckled.

“You wanna bet?” He said in all seriousness. “You’ll take me with you the next time you go to the warehouse.”

“Why do you want to go there?”

“Because it’s been a while. The warehouse boys spoil me,” he grinned. “And don’t worry about finding me– I’ll find you when you’re about to go.”

With that, he bowed mockingly before leaving, your smile falling as you processed the new piece of information. 

You really needed to dig into everything that was happening. There had to be a connection somewhere with the things happening in Strictland. If President Lee himself really was involved… you shuddered at the possibility. 

You wished you had asked Jaemin the name of the Hala official but you weren’t sure you would recognise him anyway. You decided to wait for one of the boys to come who might be able to identify the man with the description you had. You felt like you really needed to talk about everything related to Strictland again, to look into the Sirens and their involvement, to look into Mr. Jang and his media censorship–

But your mindspace was still occupied with Jaebeom’s warning. It had been three days and you still hadn’t heard back from him. No one else was aware that you had met up with him, and you intended to keep it that way. Every moment, you prayed that his suspicions would simply be that– suspicions. Not facts.

Burying yourself in work was easier now. You were finding that you had a special talent for multitasking when you were stressed. You could work speedily but then you would have a moment where you would zone out for a significant period of time until someone would interrupt you.

And it was Seonghwa who interrupted this time, whistling in a low volume as he entered the room, apparently feeling good. You didn’t move, only shot a glare at him before continuing to stare holes into the stained glass of the window.

“Well, someone clearly forgot to have lunch,” Seonghwa checked the time. “Weren’t you going to wrap this up and go home to rest for the evening?”

“I’m almost done,” you told him, sighing at the bundle of paperwork. “I think I’m more suited for field work.”

“Should I have a car prepared for you–”

“No, I think I’m good here,” you buried your face in your hands momentarily. You are only suited to stay in the shadows, your father’s words rang in your head. Maybe he was right. Maybe working from the spotlight was finally taking a toll on you.

“What are you stressed about?” Seonghwa asked gently, sitting in front of you across the table. He passed you a bar of chocolate that he must have grabbed from the reception on his way upstairs. You popped a cube in your mouth, letting the rich texture of it soothe your nerves.

“Stuff. I’m always stressed though, don’t worry,” you tried to joke it off, knowing it would never work in front of Seonghwa.

“Is it about Madame Tiffany?” 

You shrugged in obviousness. “You know I won’t relax until I hear back from my sources.”

“Ah, nothing that can be done about that then,” Seonghwa slumped back. “Anything else bothering you, my love?”

My love.

“Uh,” you bit your lips in nervousness– he clearly had no idea of the recent progression. Yunho had kept his mouth sealed for once, and you were glad because once everything was official, you wouldn’t be able to hide how these casual terms affected you to your very core. “Yeah, Jaemin came by. Have you heard about the recent news?”

“Oh, yeah, I caught him on my way to the port earlier in the morning,” Seonghwa told you. With the recent shipment of Black Shadow due for export to Mist Island soon, he had been quite occupied at the port since he came back from Edenary. “Strange happenings.”

“Do you know who the Hala official is?”

“That would be Major Sung Dongil,” Seonghwa said. “He’s a very respected and a hated personality in Halaland. Some believe that his aggression caused Halaland most of the war casualties.”

You nodded slowly. “So he’s not very loved back home, and he’s related to Strictland in some unknown ways.”

“He’s basically in charge of Strictland’s status– kind of like a pseudo-governor of that area.”

“So… he would be well aware of whatever goes on in Strictland, right? Nothing would go past him,” you said.

“He should be. If he isn’t… that means he needs to do a better job.”

“And now he’s meeting with President Lee,” you folded your arms, voice dripping with suspicion.

“Not the first time this has happened, and it’s not unusual for him to meet with President Lee,” Seonghwa mirrored your position. “Whatever happens in Eden affects Strictland too– especially because there’s still the matter of illegal immigrants. That’s probably the reason they’re meeting, and if the Sirens Rebel Party heavily comprises those immigrants of which most are illegally residing here, it makes sense that they got angry and protested the way they did.” 

“True,” you scratched your chin in thought, slumping back again. “I’m probably just overthinking again.”

“That’s why we like you,” Seonghwa chuckled. “Sometimes overthinking makes sense– especially when it comes from you.”

“Well, the overthinker in me wants to look into Major Sung and why President Lee keeps using media censorship to his advantage. I heard about how he never talked about his wife’s public assassination yet brings that up for pity votes every now and then.”

“Understandable. Let’s just wrap up the new deal first, yeah? I can have someone look into Major Sung for you in the meanwhile,” Seonghwa asked and you agreed, thanking him. He took over the files and asked you to go and take a breather and you laughed, staying to finish it before eventually leaving with a kiss blown his way. He shook his head in amusement, smiling through work for a good while after.

It was a little awkward, very overwhelming and kind of nerve-wracking but very familiar to wait for Yeosang in his office in the Crescent Bar. 

But it was something that needed to be done in order for your relationship with the boys to progress. In order for there to be a clarity to who and what you were– as a Leader, as a Crescent and as their romantic partner. 

You still were not sure how your relationship was going to progress with some of them– that included Hongjoong, first and foremost. There certainly was palpable tension between you two, but he respected you perhaps as much as you did (despite all your squabbles). He held you in high reverence and reminded you how important you were to them and to their cause at every step, and it was thanks to him that you were Luna of the Crescent Company now. 

As for the boys in the warehouse… you couldn’t say anything about it yet. You were content with your current situation– three of them already reciprocating your feelings felt unreal. Perhaps, this was how it was supposed to be. They were the ones opening you up to the idea of love and how it came in all forms. They were also teaching you how to be good at receiving love. They sure knew how to give it.

You were now on the way to shift your relation with Yeosang. Four of the Crescents wanted you. No wonder you felt like you were drowning, overwhelmed with the idea, while also feeling as if you were taking your first breaths after remaining underwater. 

The warm atmosphere of his office room and its familiarity comforted you like a lover’s embrace while also soothing your nerves for the discussion. Yeosang entered after a few moments in the middle of instructing one of the employees. When he finally finished and turned towards you, he clapped with a pointed look.

“I see you’ve almost finished my precious wine.”

“It was there for me,” you said as you shifted awkwardly, realising that he was right. The previous three quarters were down to a few sips. “It was looking at me.”

Yeosang laughed, settling down on the couch beside you. “How have you been? And what’s stressing you out so much that you almost drank the entire bottle? Not that I mind a tipsy Luna…”

“I’ve been well, for the most part,” you said. “The stress– you know why. Work stress. And… I wanted to talk to you about something, but first tell me how you have been. I heard you’re almost prepared to ship Black Shadow to Mist Island?”

“Yep,” he sank down, a tired groan escaping his mouth. “The police have been sniffing around so it was tough to get around them. We just hope it can leave the Eden territory without any trouble. Once it crosses the Eden waters, we’re mostly safe.”

“I sure hope so,” you said. “Why are they sniffing around? Is there a mole?”

“There actually might be– far too many strange coincidences have been happening, but San and Yunho are looking into it so I’ll leave it to them,” he said. 

No wonder Yunho had been so busy these days– you hardly caught him in the office anymore. 

“So? What did you want to talk about?”

“Well,” you turned towards him, stifling a smile– he looked far too welcoming in the brown tones of his outfit that perfectly complimented his hair and milky skin, almost creating a coffee-like contrast. It didn’t help that he was rolling his sleeves again, showing off his sculpted forearms. 

“Well?” Yeosang repeated, noticing how you zoned out, oblivious to your gaze stuck on his arms. 

“Right– uh… I wanted to tell you that, uh…”

“You sure you want to talk?” Yeosang teased. “Maybe another glass of drink to loosen your lips?”

“Shut up,” you glared at him. “I like you. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“Yeah…” he nodded after a moment of silence. “Never would have known if you hadn’t told me.”

“Yeosang,” you groaned and he laughed heartily, finally pulling you closer by your wrist. “It took me so much courage to come here and you can’t stop joking around.”

“Think of it as my coping mechanism,” he said in a serious tone, looking at you with caution and anticipation in his eyes. “Because I’m trying to find the words and the courage to tell you that I like you too.”

“I know,” you nodded and he looked at you pointedly, but soon the two of you were sharing soft, guarded smiles.

“This is kind of weird,” you admitted and he agreed. “But yeah. I wanted to tell you that I like you. And I like… the others too.”

“Elaborate,” he requested gently.

“Well, I like Yunho, you know that,” you said with a laugh and he smiled. “I like Seonghwa. It happened in Edenary– he’s just so… you know? Comforting. Caring. He’s so gentle.”

“That he is,” he agreed wholeheartedly.

“And… I don’t know how it happened but it happened recently with San. I went to his place–”

“You didn’t!” Yeosang gasped scandalously and you smacked his arm, making him snicker.

“Just to talk! I was actually here for you but you were out and he offered to take me anywhere I wanted. We decided to go to his place to drink and whine, but one thing led to another. We only kissed though.”

“Nothing else?” He teased.

“Just… a lot of kissing and cuddling– god, do I have to share everything with you?”

“I mean… he is a good kisser–”

You gaped at him. “Yeah… He is.”

So that’s what you were getting into. 

You narrowed your eyes. “Who else have you kissed?” 

“I thought you knew everything by now?” 

“Yeah, but I need answers from you. Who else have you kissed, Kang Yeosang?”

“Do you really want to hear the answer?” Yeosang leaned forward, inches away from your face. “Shall I add another to the list?”

You gulped visibly, making him grin and he pulled back, caressing the skin on your arms to let you know that he was only teasing. He cleared his throat and asked, “Have you made up your mind yet?”

“I have, but I wanted to talk to you before I made it official,” you told him. “I want to be with you, Yeosang. With you, and Seonghwa, Yunho, and San. And with more, if they will have me. I want to be a part of… this.”

“You sure, sweetheart?” Yeosang tucked your hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek in the process. 

“I’m sure,” you insisted, your gaze steel. You had never been more sure of anything, and it was not just the thrill you felt in your veins. It was your heart singing for them, something like a knot in the middle of your chest that tightened with yearning everytime that you thought about them.  

Yeosang smiled and kissed your forehead. “Welcome to the gang, sweetheart. I think I should tell you the obvious while I’m at it?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded. 

“First and foremost, confidentiality,” Yeosang said and you nodded in understanding. “Us… we know everything about each other. We’re one. You can choose to share that with us, or keep your business with each of us private among us– that doesn’t matter. If you choose to remain private, we will make sure not to discuss relationship dynamics with you among each other.”

“I think if I’m sharing all of you, I don’t mind. We’re all together, so…”

Yeosang smiled proudly, very pleased to hear that. “Don’t worry, we don’t always talk in such detail. In the beginning, it was a little awkward navigating our way through this. We had to talk to learn about each other. Now… it’s become a habit.”

“No, I like it. I like how close you are. It makes it feel like you all have this little bubble.”

“And now you’ll be a part of that bubble,” Yeosang said and you smiled. “The thing about confidentiality is that we keep our relationship from anyone who is not us private. Very private, and you know why.”

“Because it’s unconventional,” you said and he nodded. “And because they will wish they were us.”

Yeosang laughed darkly at your comment. “They still do. But that’s just another weakness they can manipulate to take us down. They already know we are each other’s strength and weakness, but it’s better if our relationship is kept in the dark.”

“Understandable,” you agreed. 

“The second thing is something you already know– that it’s okay at any point moving forwards if you want to be with only one of us, or a few of us, or even none of us. You’re not bound to us in any way, Luna. You can explore outside of us if that is what you wish for. Of course, we would prefer to keep you all to ourselves. All of us have at some point tried something out of our circle but we never liked it. No one understands us like we do.”

“What about me? Do you feel like I could fit?”

“That’s what I mean,” he caressed your cheek again. “You don’t have to fit in. Just be yourself, and find what you like. Let it progress naturally.”

“Ah,” you nodded in understanding, suddenly having a moment of clarity. “Thanks for telling me that.”

Yeosang tapped your cheek lovingly. “Lastly… have fun. And be careful.”

“Of who?”

“Of your desires,” Yeosang said. “Being with us is not as complicated as it sounds. You can find comfort and solace in anyone of us– whether it be of platonic, romantic or sexual nature. I just want you to navigate these waters without worrying about the consequences within our group. That means that we won’t mind what you do with one or the other. But we would also like for you to be clear of what you want with us to avoid confusion. We will respect your wishes and boundaries and will expect you to do the same, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, understanding and also surprised how eloquent Yeosang was as he talked about this. “Just keep it undramatic and have fun?” 

“That’s a loose translation of what I said,” Yeosang chuckled. “But yeah. There’s no jealousy going on, nor will there be in the future. We’re all one, but if you don’t want all of us, that’s fine.”

“Have you had previous partners like me?”

“We tried, yes,” Yeosang nodded. “It always ended badly– silencing them wasn’t the problem. They tried to break us, and it made us wonder if that was their intention from the beginning.”

“I hope none of you got that vibe from me?”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re here, Luna,” Yeosang smiled knowingly. “Do you think Yunho, of all the people, would have warmed up so quickly to you? Do you think Seonghwa, who wanted to kill you that night, is kind to anyone like he is to you?”

You shook your head. He was right– they must have felt something different with you. Something good and pure.

“Do you think the maknaes will accept me?” You asked cautiously.

“Oh, they are the accepting ones– you just overcame the hurdle that was us,” Yeosang admitted and you scoffed in shock. “It would have been hard to win us over if you got acquainted with them first.”

“Good thing that I was your bookkeeper then, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s probably how it started,” Yeosang kissed the back of your hand. “I’ve had my eyes on you for quite a while, Luna.”

“I heard,” you admitted and he nodded, knowing someone must have told you already. He simply couldn’t believe you were here, wanting to be a part of them. Wanting to be with them, accepting them as they were. He had shot every arrow at you in this conversation, scared to find you having cold feet but here you were, letting him kiss your hand repeatedly, watching with glazed eyes. 

“We waited far too long, didn’t we?” You asked in almost a whisper and when he spread his arms, you immediately scooted closer, melting into his embrace and enjoying the kisses he planted on the top of your head. “I’ve always had a thing for you, just so you know. It’s hard not to, because you’re very handsome and charming.”

“Stop,” Yeosang laughed– in all of his life, he would never get used to people telling him how handsome he was. Even when the boys told him, he always got shy.

“But you are,” you pulled away to look him in the eyes. “You’re too good to be true. And to me, you always feel like home, Yeosang.”

Yeosang’s heart felt full. He cupped your face with one hand, his brows scrunching with something like amazement and disbelief and you were sure your own expressions reflected exactly that. You were finally in his arms, his. You were his, and he was yours.

Yeosang swiped his thumb across your lower lip and you shut your eyes momentarily, exhaling shakily. When you dared to look at him, you found his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“May I?”

You nodded and he stifled a smile, pecking the tip of your nose first and making you relax as you giggled. You both moved closer naturally until there was no distance between your lips, sharing the softest of kisses that made your heart melt like candle wax. You moved your lips along his, alternating between deep kisses and pecks, caressing each other’s skin wherever you found easy access. 

Being in his arms filled a void in your heart that had been there for a long time now. The void of yearning. Oh, how you had restrained yourself from crossing boundaries with him while you worked as his bookkeeper. All to hide your identity– if you had known earlier that he would be so accepting of you, you would have yielded right there. 

It had taken far too long, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you hoped you conveyed that in the way you held him and kissed him– with deep respect and love. Once you felt short of breath, you drew apart, eyes fluttering open and finding his cheeks flushed.

“You’re a good kisser too.”

Yeosang choked on his laughter. “I didn’t imagine you would weaponise that piece of information.”

“Well… that’s how it’s going to be with me. Get used to it,” you pecked his lips and he deepened the kiss while keeping it soft and undemanding. You smiled through it and snuggled into his warmth.

You could definitely get used to this.

“Do I have to set up a meeting to make this official?” You asked. “What’s the next step?”

Yeosang chuckled, caressing your back assuringly. “San is handling that. It’s only going to be dinner with lots of wine so don’t worry too much. Just think of it as another work agenda– we’re basically doing this to congratulate you on becoming a Leader, but you can make an announcement there. Also, that man is the most obvious being on this planet– it’s clear as day that he was pleased about the other change.” 

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “He’s so goofy.”

“Don’t let anyone hear that. He’s supposed to be the scary one of us. At least first impressions.”

“I think first impressions… Hongjoong wins in that department,” you shuddered lightly as you recalled the ice cold gaze he gave you when he first saw you in the office. “Or Yunho, if he tries.”

“Wait till you see Mingi or Wooyoung look at someone like that. If looks could kill.”

You made a mental note to witness that, and the conversation steered from one thing to another. Never once did you feel out of place in his arms.

You belonged there.

The calm before the storm. 

It was always a short period of tranquility after a storm would wreck everything in its wake.  Impending doom seemed to be your life’s companion. It stuck at your side at the calmest periods of your life like an old friend, and then grew in intensity as the calm wore off to welcome the storm like a lifelong enemy. 

It felt like you were standing at the borderline between calm and storm– your gut was restless with anxiety and that was only a sign that something was about to go wrong. You could just pray that the intensity of it would be mild. 

Perhaps, this was not even the calm before the storm. Maybe you were simply getting squirmier with each passing day not hearing back from Jaebeom, or mulling over little pieces of information that did not sound too bad in retrospect, but put in a certain context or connection seemed more damaging to the business.

Whatever it was could wait a little longer. 

You were in Room no. 1 at the Crescent Bar tonight with all the boys present, sharing a hearty dinner. They welcomed you warmly, making a huge deal and you were half-sure it was just to annoy you, courtesy of a certain Kang Yeosang who knew you didn’t like being the centre of attention very much especially when you were going to be talking about important things here, but you could pretend this was all about your promotion from secretary to a Leader. 

However, the boys who knew– Yunho, San and Yeosang– kept exchanging suggestive glances with you and you kept mouthing at them to ‘stop’, which they were getting quite a laugh out of. The rest were thankfully oblivious, but that didn’t mean they were doing anything less. 

The warehouse boys got you a few gifts– a gun designed by Yerin, its hilt encrusted with a pearl which gave it ‘the Luna touch’, as they quoted. It was a beautiful beretta and they promised to teach you with that gun so you could get familiar with it. They also gave you a small dagger with a customised engraved cover that you could carry in your purse or even your boot. 

You asked them if you needed to expect an attack anytime soon but they laughed, saying every Leader carried a few guns and daggers on them. Wooyoung went as far as to say that it was a part of their ‘style’ and you accepted the gifts, amused but also appreciating their sentiments.

You were done eating and were now watching the boys talk about the little things, their voices intermingling in the room. Wooyoung and San were having a heated debate over something related to working out and Yeosang was intently listening, sometimes agreeing with one or the other. Yunho and Mingi, as usual, were in their own little bubble and you watched them with fondness spilling out of you– you loved the way the two looked at each other. Not only the two, all of them. The way they all looked at each other and cared for each other was something otherworldly.

Seonghwa was explaining something to Jongho– it looked like they were discussing something related to work with the way Jongho sketched over the table to make his points clear to Seonghwa. And here you were, watching them, your eyes travelling to Hongjoong who had also finished eating and was now looking at you from across the table.A smile graced his lips as your eyes met, making your heart flutter. 

He raised an eyebrow as if to ask if you were doing okay and you nodded, the silent communication carrying on when Wooyoung’s voice rose and San burst into laughter, the two of you shaking your heads at the duo. You took a few deep breaths, looking at your left where Yunho sat. You didn’t interrupt his conversation with Mingi, simply brushed your fingers against his and he understood, wrapping his fingers around your hand to give you strength. You knew that you did not need to hide that you were holding his hand but you still kept it under the table, silently letting his touch calm you. 

You waited for the conversation to die down a little and then you signalled Yeosang who got up and clapped to get everyone’s attention.

“What?” Jongho asked.

“I just want everyone to shut up for two minutes so Luna can talk about something,” he announced and you groaned, curling into Yunho’s side as everyone laughed knowingly or in confusion. Yeosang pretended he could not see you, finding the ceiling incredibly interesting, knowing damn well that he should have phrased it differently–

But this was his charm. 

“Right, so…” you started, squeezing Yunho’s hand. “I just want to thank all of you for giving me such a warm welcome for finally joining the inner circle.”

“No need for a thanks, darling,” Wooyoung waved his hand in dismissal. “This wasn’t anything special– we could have done so much more!”

“No, this is enough,” you laughed. “Just… thank you for accepting me and considering me someone worthy of becoming a Leader.”

“Honey, we’re not as good as you make out to be,” Seonghwa admitted, some of them agreeing. “There’s no such thing as being ‘worthy’ of becoming a Leader.”

“You are a mafia organisation, though,” you commented. “I think there is such a thing. It sure felt like it.”

“Yeah, tell him!” Mingi clapped. “Not anyone can be a Crescent!”

Seonghwa shook his head, laughing at the attack. “I just mean that because you felt like one of us, you became one of us. That’s all there is to it.”

“Well,” Hongjoong began. “We do have a strict code here, as you very well know now. We actually were not open to having another ‘Leader’, if you must. It’s just that you earned it. You found your own spot here– we were pretty much helpless watching you become one of us. It was as if you were always meant to be here, yeah? And not anyone can achieve that.”

Your heart swooped at his admission. He was always so clear about his views and feelings, and to hear that from him felt like an accomplishment. He always insisted there was no boss among them but he truly was the captain. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant,” Seonghwa added and you all laughed. “Anyone can become a part of our organisation, the Crescents, but you found your own spot in our little circle.”

“Running on sheer confidence, holding key information and being able to hold us accountable? I think we needed that,” Jongho laughed. “I mean, we, the younger ones, don’t spend everyday with you but from what we’ve seen… the hyungs really needed a dose of someone like you.”

And then started bickering and finger-pointing because whatever did he mean? And how dare he? While Mingi and Wooyoung defended their precious youngest, asserting that while they were away, the hyungs started to get too pompous and they really needed someone to humble them– that someone being you who was a mere bookkeeper telling them what was wrong and right, stopping them from sabotaging their business and working to improve it while also entrapping them in the little ‘love bubble’ they had going on, according to Jongho. 

“We see the way you look at her!” Mingi continued, pointing at San, Yeosang, Seonghwa and even Hongjoong. “You’re not fooling us! She’s becoming your favourite. Rightfully so,” he added the last bit as he looked at you and you gave him an okay sign. 

“I like the warehouse boys more though,” you commented, earning gasps. “They’re… my type of boys.”

Chaos erupted in the room, San and Yeosang clinging on to each other in a fervent display of heartbreak, Seonghwa covering his ears with his hands as if he could not hear anything, Hongjoong sitting with his hurt pride and Yunho bringing your joined hands up in the air for everyone to see– an act of betrayal, it was. When you recovered from laughing, you placed your joined hands on the table for everyone to see.

“While we’re talking about this, I would also like to say that… I want to be your partner. All of you, if you will have me,” you said, meeting eyes with each one of them. 

There was a moment of confusion because what did you mean? You were already partners. And then it hit, Yunho’s hand caressing yours all the confirmation they needed. 

“You mean, like… partners? In our relationship?” Seonghwa was the first one to ask, unaware of the recent progression.

“Yes,” you felt a bit exposed with all their eyes on you, but you held strong, watching the boys talk among themselves, those who knew explaining to those who didn’t. “I want to try it with my whole heart. And I want to know if all of you are willing to accept me– you don’t have to–”

“But we will,” Hongjoong said in finality, the rest agreeing immediately. “I suppose you’ve talked in detail about this? To someone?”

“Yes,” you looked at Yunho, Yeosang, and San. “I know what I’m getting into. I’m ready.” 

Mingi whistled at your admission. “I hope they told you that you can take it easy? You don’t have to be so stressed about it.”

“Of course,” you nodded, relaxing and realising you must have appeared to be a bit tense. “I just wanted to say it out loud while all of you were present. And I’d like to hear what each of you think about it.”

“I mean, I’m good,” Mingi shrugged and you smiled at his casual nature. “Wherever the flow takes us, right?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. 

“I’m more than good,” Wooyoung grinned. “When can I officially take you out on your first date? Because I bet none of these fuckers have taken you out yet–”

And that started another finger-pointing session, though Wooyoung was officially winning that one. None of them had actually taken you out on a date yet. Even the ones you were intimate with. 

“I’ll make sure my first date is you,” you promised Wooyoung and he raised his fist in victory. 

“Can I tag along?” San asked expectantly.

“No, you lost your chance!” Wooyoung smacked his hand. “Give me some alone time with my girl!”

You grinned, looking at Jongho who was highly amused by the turn of events. You raised a brow and he shook his head. 

“Like Mingi said, wherever the flow takes us?”

You nodded, a silent understanding passing between you both. While it was not awkward with Jongho in any way, he was still more like a friend than anything else, just like Mingi was. Wooyoung, being Wooyoung, was going to take his chance and see where it takes him, but these two were the more cautious and reserved ones. You were not going to push them, just like they were not going to demand anything from you.

“So you’re officially our girl now,” San clapped once and rubbed his hands, a devilish smirk on his face. “I actually really like the sound of it. I think our group needed a feminine touch.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, laughing. “Don’t make it sound weird!”

“No, he’s right,” Seonghwa agreed, downing his drink in a single gulp. “Too much testosterone around here.”

You shook your head, letting them argue further and getting to hear stories about them now that you knew everything. How the boys depended on each other and barely cared about each other’s personal space– they might be criminal lords but were just boys at their hearts. Seonghwa revealed how San would always hang out in his room even when they were doing nothing. Mingi liked his alone time and he wanted others to respect that but that did not stop him from making his home in San’s room or Seonghwa’s room– or even in someone else’s house. 

From what you heard about Hongjoong’s shared house with Wooyoung and Jongho, Wooyoung was basically the housekeeper, which made a lot of sense. He made sure everyone ate their meals, mostly cooked with Jongho and complained about how Hongjoong was a baby who needed a nanny to take care of him. Apparently, the mafia boss did not know how to look after himself and Hongjoong admitted being guilty of that. 

Yunho and Yeosang shared a house and you thought it was a good combination in the sense that the two always brought out the calm in each other. You were imagining their space to be the most soothing, and you made a mental note to ask them both how it was like to live with the other.

Just like that, the night of drinks, admissions and acceptance passed and wrapped up with a beautiful conclusion. Your heart felt full and you never felt out of place. This was where you were meant to be, and they made sure to never make you feel anything less– and the funny bit was that they were not attempting to do that consciously. This was just how it was supposed to be– the pieces had fallen into place.

You said your goodbyes to everyone, and oh, you got a sneak peak of what would soon be called normal now. Yeosang pecked your cheek before leaving, and Seonghwa cupped your face and planted a deep kiss on your forehead, saying he couldn’t wait to talk to you in private. San and Wooyoung both also kissed your cheeks but it seemed to be an inside joke and they disappeared into another room, snickering about something. You were mostly in shock at the sudden demeanour change though you could not complain. It was heartwarming. 

You spotted the boys exchanging hugs and kisses too– the ones who wouldn’t be seeing each other any time soon. Jongho was mostly avoiding any physical contact but he tapped your cheek teasingly as he exited the room, laughing devilishly at your shocked face. Mingi was supposed to leave with Jongho so he rushed to catch up with him, ruffling your hair and you shut your eyes in defeat.

This was what you had signed up for. You laughed as you looked at Yunho, who was leaving the room with Seonghwa, speaking about something in an urgent tone. 

That left you with Hongjoong. The air felt cold all of a sudden as he walked towards you, swirling his cane and poking his tongue in his cheek to keep himself from grinning.

“You look like you want to kill me and feast over my bones,” you commented and he scoffed.

“Feast, maybe, but kill? You think too lowly of me, love.”

Oh. you pursed your lips as he drew closer, watching you with a sort of curiosity. 

“I heard something interesting, recently,” he said in a low voice for only the two of you to hear. “‘The Captain finds his mate.’”

“Just another title to add to my name, eh? Bookkeeper, secretary, chief mate,” You tried joking your way around it but he wasn’t having any of it. He took your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact with you and successfully melting your insides.

“Well, I quite like the sound of it,” Hongjoong said, smirking. “See you in the morning… mate.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” you raised your fist for emphasis though your voice came out weak, making him chuckle. You muttered a curse. Forget the warehouse boys– he was going to be more challenging than all of the boys combined. 

You exited the room and took a turn to the corridor that led to the backdoor when Yunho appeared out of the shadows, taking your hand and leading you to an empty, dark corner. Before you could ask him what was happening, he twirled you around and pressed your back against the wall, swallowing your surprised gasp with his lips, making you instantly drop your bag and melt in his arms. 

“Our girl,” Yunho muttered in your ear, voice thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how much I love the sound of that?”

“Oh, god,” a shaky breath left your lips, your senses heightening in pleasure. “You’re crazy.”

“For you,” he kissed your jaw. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Definitely,” you brought his lips back to yours, sharing another passionate kiss. “I missed you so much. In Edenary. Here. Don’t you ever give me space again.”

Yunho chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice sounding inside your skull and you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him pick you up. You laughed at the height difference and he melted into your hug, content in this position.

“Someone could see us,” you whispered. 

“I don’t care,” Yunho whispered back, kissing your neck and burying his nose there. “I only have a few moments before I need to go. Let me make the most of them.”

“Where do you have to go at this hour of the night?” You asked, cupping his face and tucking his hair back. 

“To the port– the situation does not look good. I’ll let you know when I actually know something about it,” he said and you nodded. “I’m just waiting for Johnny.”

“Stay safe,” you kissed his forehead, going back to hug him. You stayed like that, limbs wrapped around each other while he gently rocked your bodies until you heard Johnny’s very loud voice call for Yunho, the both of you laughing at his arrival. With a final soft kiss to your lips, he let you go reluctantly. You wished you could keep him all to yourself for the rest of the night.

He did steal a few more moments, insisting that he drop you off on his way– it was only going to take him a minute, and he wanted to make sure you were safe, something about how the police were becoming a problem so the gangs might take this opportunity to create another ruckus again. He managed to steal one last kiss before watching you disappear inside your house and Johnny shook his head at the sight.

“You big chump, you.”

Yunho shot a glare at him but the men ended up laughing, Johnny making an effort to keep the mood light because he knew Yunho was absolutely going to snap when he would hear about the events at the port in the past couple of hours that took place in his absence. 

The storm had arrived, in the literal sense and the metaphorical. 

The night had been washed in a fierce torrent of rain, the sharp patter of it accompanied by globs of ice which kept you restless throughout the night. You and Wendy were light sleepers so the next morning began with a groggy start, both of you sitting next to each other to process the weight of being alive and drinking coffee to help with that. You took to the corner of the living room next to the window to watch the sky open up. Since you were on the second story, the view from up here wasn’t much, crowded by other apartments in the area. 

Still, you could tell that the storm wasn’t going to end any time soon. It had only magnified the confusion and anger of the Crescents at the Sector 1 Port. Their shipment of Black Shadow to Mist Island was rumoured to be returning back, and in the previous evening it arrived accompanied by the navy who had not let it pass the Eden territories, insisting that the shipment was illegal. 

It was illegal. That wasn’t the problem– the problem was who told them? It had been about three years since the Crescents started smuggling Black Shadow to Mist Island. They always knew that one day they would get caught and would have to pay a hefty fine, at the very least. They found ways to involve the police, to make fake licences, to make it seem like the shipment was meant for some other land instead of Mist Island, and made basically every preparation in case they were caught. 

However, the Crescents had also familiarised themselves with the police procedure. In case of suspected smuggling, the nation that was about to receive the shipment was going to deal with the police first before sending the case back to the country of origin. That was the international law, which meant that in no possible scenario would a shipment return from halfway across the ocean.

Yet, that was exactly what had happened. Mist Island never received the shipment and they would not be able to help calm things down. The navy would report to the main office in Edenary and it would be hard to get out of it unscathed– the main office was full of scavengers waiting to have a taste of the Crescents’ doom.

The atmosphere at the Crescent Office today was thick with tension. Everyone was busy clearing the records in case the police decided to investigate the whole company for illegal trade. Yunho had been out almost all night for damage control. He went to rest in the morning and Seonghwa took his place, the boys from the warehouse accompanying him. You stayed in the office with Hongjoong, trying to pull some connections and keep the news from blowing up.

It was not a good time for this to happen, considering the pharmaceutical side of the business was just about to flourish thanks to the new deal to launch silver light as a medicinal drug. If they started investigating all the shipments going out from the Crescents, they might catch on to the copper the Crescents import for weapons manufacturing, and Pledis Manufacturers, the partners of the Crescents, could be under threat too. If Pledis pulls out at this sensitive time to protect themselves, the weapons channel might be exposed or come to a stop altogether.

So it was no wonder that Hongjoong sat grim in his chair, staring into the distance and strategising while you helped him check discrepancies or flaws in his plans and made calls. 

“I think you could really send a few men to look into who tipped the navy,” you suggested, having just finished making sure that the next shipment to Utopia was rescheduled. It would be a mess if they found out that you were exporting weapons parts to them. 

“I think it’s a shot in the dark,” Hongjoong said and you knew that he was partly right but also highly focused at solving the problem first. 

“Think about it, Hongjoong,” you said, placing the pen back on the table and unbuttoning the cuffs of the sleeves of your black shirt, wanting to roll them to avoid discomfort. “Not anyone can tip the navy– they don’t take everyone seriously. And while we’re at it, we might want to look into why they tipped them now. This isn’t your first time trading with Mist.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply. “You’re right. Who could tip the navy? Is someone trying to distract us from our new business prospect? Is this a bait? Or did some bastard get lucky with the timing?”

“Someone of influence– that’s who the navy listens to. That means it’s not just any other bastard who lucked out. It has to be someone who knows about the recent happenings.”

Hongjoong curled his lips in thought. “Secretary Park?” 

“I thought so too, but it’s unlike him to tip the navy. He shoots from the front, not from the back,” you said and he agreed. “Some reputable gang?”

“Unlikely,” he said. “They know very well that they can’t mess with the Crescents and get away with it.”

You made an impressed face, making him smile for a moment. “I think it’s probably someone who knows about the silver light business, and they’re trying to throw you off while they pull another stunt which would be far worse.”

“But Madame Tiffany is the only one aware of this silver light business,” Hongjoong folded his arms. “Secretary Park may have an idea but if he was aware of what we were doing, he wouldn’t have simply watched it happen all along– he would have done something earlier before we ever made a deal. That leaves just the Crescents, MX Pharmas who I don’t suspect at all, could be a mole but they wouldn’t tip the navy…”

For a brief moment, your father’s knowing smile flashed before your eyes when he said that he wanted the Crescents to make a deal with Madame Tiffany. You felt a wave of anxiety in the pit of your stomach, recalling Jaebeom’s little warning. 

Could everything be connected? But Secretary Park wouldn’t do that, you both were right about that. Madame Tiffany had just heavily invested in the deal, so why would she hurt herself now? She could have pulled this stunt before she made a deal with the Crescents.

“God, I’ll go insane. Are we doing something to keep this from the media?”

“Wooyoung’s handling that– he has connections with some people in Eden News,” Hongjoong told you.

“Great. I’ll make preparations for all the possible outcomes then?”

“You do that,” Hongjoong let out a tired sigh. “I’ll help you out–”

“You’ve been up all night. You should go and get some sleep, I’ll take care of things here,” you said softly but he opened his eyes a fraction wider as if to show you that the lack of sleep didn’t affect him. However, his eyes were bloodshot and you snorted.

“You’ll start to look like death, Joong,” you joked. “Just take a nap– go. I’ll handle things in the meanwhile, and if we need you, we won’t hesitate to call your residence. Hopefully you pick up the phone.”

Hongjoong poked his tongue inside his cheek and you wondered what the smug expression was for until you realised you hadn’t addressed him by his name. 

“Joong, eh? Heard that from Seonghwa?”

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” You suppressed a smile. Hongjoong shrugged in response, considering if he should take a nap or just stay–

“Just go,” you laughed. “Shall I order you to go?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes but you weren’t one to back away from a challenge.

“Kim Hongjoong. Joong,” you said in your most assertive tone and he shook his head in amusement. “Go and get some rest. That’s an order.”

Hongjoong got up and sauntered around the table, stopping in front of you and tucking his thumb under your chin to raise your face so he could look you in the eyes.

“One day, I’m going to do something about that mouth of yours, y/n.”

It was a promise, and it registered in every part of your body. It was an effort to stop the noise that threatened to leave your mouth at the suggestiveness of the situation. He licked his lips slowly, swiping his thumb on your lower lip before drawing away with a smirk and leaving.

You pursed your lips, lightly slapping your cheeks so you could come back to your senses and get some things done. After collecting yourself, you straightened and picked up the contacts diary to call the Crescents’ residence in Edenary.

After a few rings when you were starting to lose hope, Jaehyun finally picked up the phone and you made small talk before asking how the situation looked in Edenary.

“It’s not being blown out of proportion yet,” Jaehyun began. “Which is both a good sign and a bad sign. I feel like there’s another hit coming and we’re just waiting for it.”

“And that’s why I called,” you said. “Remember what we did the last time I was here?”

“Had fun,” he laughed a bit and you hummed in amusement. “But yes. I got you.”

“Yeah, and while you’re at it, see who the public suspects. Also, can you see if we have a connection in the Edenary station?”

“The police station? We don’t, actually,” Jaehyun admitted. “But I’ll look around. I think Inspector Gong might be our best option because as much as he hates us, he’ll actually look into this fairly. We might also need a favour from General Wi– he could certainly pull some strings.”

“Yeah… remind him that he owes us a few and let’s find the source as soon as possible, yeah?” 

Jaehyun agreed and you ended the call, taking a few deep breaths. Now that you had sorted things out, you felt a bit more at peace, just waiting to hear back from one of the boys. You went towards the couch, curling on the very welcoming soft seats and shut your eyes, feeling the throbbing headache grow more intense with every second. 

You didn’t realise when exactly you dozed off but upon opening your eyes, you found Seonghwa mirroring your position on the couch across you, though wide awake. You looked around trying to get your bearings, checking the time on your wristwatch.

“Oh dear. I napped throughout the afternoon!”

Seonghwa chuckled. “That’s alright. Hongjoong is probably still asleep, and I just came back about half an hour ago. We sorted the mess at the port.”

“How’s it looking?” You asked, stretching your limbs.

“I honestly can’t say yet,” Seonghwa admitted. “I’m just hoping they don’t conduct a full investigation– now’s not a good time. And on that note, we must transport some important documents elsewhere.”

“You mean the ones in the safe here?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Mingi owns an apartment near the warehouse. It’s registered under his cousin’s name so it’s a safe place to store them.”

“Alright. Do you want me to go ahead and do that?” 

“No, it’s alright,” Seonghwa straightened. “I can go, I’m just waiting for Yuta.”

“Oh, you look tired, though. At least I got my rest,” you joked and he smiled wryly. “I can go with Yuta. We go to the warehouse first, right?”

“Yeah. Are you sure, though? I’m perfectly good to go, Luna–”

“Hwa,” you called his name in warning and he pursed his lips. “Do I have to order you like I ordered Hongjoong?”

“You ordered Hongjoong?” Seonghwa laughed in disbelief. “What did you tell him to do?”

“To go take a nap,” you said. “And you– you don’t have to take a nap, you can just… shut your eyes for a few moments like I did.”

Seonghwa nodded sarcastically and you smiled– he didn’t look as weary as Hongjoong but you knew that he put more effort into appearing put together too. His hair was curling at the ends probably due to the wet weather, not styled to perfection like it usually was. His eyes still sparkled with energy but his shoulders seemed to be drooping.

“You need a massage while we wait?”

“Oh, that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Seonghwa sat a bit straighter and took off his coat. You walked behind the couch where he was sitting and smoothened his white shirt around the shoulders, rubbing your fingers into the tight spots on his neck and collarbones. He groaned in relief and you smiled in satisfaction, continuing to rub and pull the tightness from his body. 

“Where did you learn that?” 

“Madame Cha,” you told him. “She would make me massage her sore parts until she was content, which means I had to learn to do a good job.”

“Did you ever hear back from her?” Seonghwa asked and he noticed your fingers pausing for just a second.

“Kind of. She’s acquainted with a gang and one of their members is here on some business. He’s still looking into some things so he promised to let me know what’s up once he has a clearer picture.”

Seonghwa also noticed how vague your answer was. “Everything okay?”

He really noticed everything.

“Yeah, he’s actually looking into some political stuff and he’s just making sure Madame Tiffany is not a part of the people who’re stirring up trouble lately.”

“Hmm…” Seonghwa tapped your hand to let you know that you could stop now. He held your hand and steered you in front of him so he could look at you. “Did you tell Hongjoong?”

“I don’t want to tell him anything before I’m sure of what I have,” you explained and he nodded, understanding. “You know that it’s too late anyway– I only heard back from them at the beginning of this week.”

“That’s okay,” Seonghwa squeezed your hand in assurance. “Can you let me know first when we hear back?”

“Of course,” you frowned. “I didn’t take a wrong step, did I?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Seonghwa pulled you closer and made you settle on his lap, your eyes widening in surprise. His other hand went to rest on the small of your back. “Hongjoong is handling a lot at the moment and I don’t want to burden him with more. I’m sure you feel the same.”

“You all are dealing with a lot,” you said, noticing the bags under his eyes. “That’s why I decided to keep it to myself until I had an answer.”

Seonghwa smiled. “You and I think alike, in that sense. Remember that you can lean on us at any time, Luna. No matter when, no matter who.”

“I know,” you brought your hand up to cup his face, hesitating a bit and he raised a brow. You locked eyes with him– you hadn’t been intimate with him in any way after the kiss in Edenary, and now that everything was finally sorted out… 

“What’s stopping you?” Seonghwa whispered, squeezing your sides as if to comfort you.

“I just had flashbacks to when you were about to kill me–”

Seonghwa laughed loudly. “You want me to beg for your forgiveness, love?”

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Hmm… I quite like the sound of that.”

Seonghwa shook his head, scoffing and you finally cradled his face to make him look at you. You traced his cheekbone and sucked in a breath– he was beautiful. He pulled you closer on his lap and you continued to entangle your fingers in his hair while you caressed his face.

Seonghwa heard the honk of his car and whispered, “Yuta’s here.”

“I know. I should get going, right?” You asked, eyes fixated on his lips and he nodded, wanting nothing more than to keep you in his arms for the rest of the night. 

However, none of you was ready to let the other go. You moved in tandem as your lips met, kissing leisurely as if you couldn’t hear the honk of the car outside. You dipped your weight against him, curling your fingers in the soft strand of his hair. His own hands rested on your hips to keep you in place and he swiped his tongue along your lips to make you open up.

His tongue explored the cavity of your mouth and you hummed in pleasure, the surroundings disappearing into nothing– all you could feel was Seonghwa kissing you ever so gently, his hands squeezing your hips, the warmth of his body radiating on yours, just Seonghwa, your Seonghwa–

A sharp knock sounded on the door and you drew back with a startled gasp, gazes still stuck on each other’s parted lips. Before you could make a move, a familiar voice sounded.

“Mr. Park? Luna?”

Oh, Jaemin. That menace. He had promised to find you when you would go to the warehouse and here he was. 

You shared a quick peck and a giggle before you went to open the door. Jaemin stood with narrowed eyes, observing the two of you.

“Were you… fighting?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Let’s go,” you squeaked, grabbing your things while Seonghwa’s laughter boomed in the room. You shot him a glare before leaving the room, asking Jaemin to wait in the car. You joined him after grabbing the documents from the safe, cooling your cheeks with the back of your hands.

You greeted Yuta as you got inside and passed him the documents which he slid under the seats. Jaemin asked if he could take the passenger seat but Yuta insisted it was unsafe right now and he was better off sitting in the back with you. Jaemin’s annoyed expressions thoroughly amused you and you patted his back in a sign of comradery.

“Tell you what– next time, you can sit in the front. We’ll have Yuta sit in the back and I’ll drive.”

“If you’re driving, I’d rather stay at home,” Jaemin folded his arm and you and Yuta shared a laugh.

“Oh, I was a good driver. I used to drive a lot when I lived in Edenary.”

“Really?” Jaemin asked. “What car?”

Thus, the forty minute drive passed in a breeze as the three of you talked about cars and your lifestyle in Edenary. The conversation steered to Yuta’s past and how he found the Crescents a good few years ago, the group of them hired as bodyguards for their commendable street skills. 

Finally, you got to learn about who Jaemin really was– an orphan boy who had taken upon himself to take care of the younger kids in the neighbourhood where he lived. He told you that the first few years when he left the orphanage for the streets were hard but it was Seonghwa who had found him before anyone else, and you weren’t surprised in the least to hear that. Seonghwa always kept a watchful eye on the kids and the women. A guardian of sorts.

Mingi had remained in the warehouse, waiting for your arrival. He told you that the boys were running some errands– Wooyoung was making sure the warehouse would be ‘clean’ in case of an inspection, and Jongho was out bribing some police officers. Apparently, Jongho was an expert. 

Jaemin and Yuta disappeared inside after Yuta handed Mingi the documents. You stood next to Mingi at the entrance, your hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat and you took a deep breath– it was chilly here since it was an open area.

“Would you like to stay here, catch up with the girls? Or would you like to accompany me to the house?”

“I’m okay either way– if you’d like some company I can join you.”

“Come along then,” Mingi smiled. “I’ll show you around.”

It didn’t feel awkward to drive with Mingi– it was the first time the two of you were alone yet there was a sense of familiarity especially because of the stories you had heard of each other. Surprisingly, though, you did not talk much about work or the boys. The conversation somehow steered from the documents to silver light to the war.

“I heard you were a soldier during the war– who was your commander?” You asked. 

“Captain Byun,” Mingi said and you looked at him in surprise. “You know him?”

“You know his partner, Captain Yoon?” You asked and he nodded, glancing at you in between driving. “I was drafted in his medic squad.”

“Oh, that means we must have crossed paths at some time,” Mingi laughed in disbelief and you agreed, surprised at the revelation– who would have thought? Perhaps, you had even treated him at some point– the two captains had often worked together.

“I don’t recognise you, though,” you told him. 

“I don’t either, but it’s been years,” Mingi said and you supposed that he was right. “I don’t think I would recognise most of the soldiers who worked with me either. Everyone scattered, and we all changed a lot after the war.”

“True…” you said and Mingi dug out his wallet from his back pocket.

“Take a look inside– there’s a photo,” Mingi said and you opened the wallet, finding a worn out photo of a group of men in uniform. You extracted it and checked the date. It was from February, 1962, a whole eight years back.

“Where are you?” You asked and he laughed, urging you to look carefully. You did and a gasp left your mouth– 

“Is that Jongho?” You asked and he grinned. “And that– that lanky tall boy has to be you!”

“That’s me,” Mingi laughed. “There’s another one in there if you can recognise him.”

“It must be San, he told me you were all in the same platoon but I don’t think I can find him…”

Mingi stopped the car, having arrived in front of the house. He drew closer and you passed him the photo. When he pointed at a small boy, you put your hand over your mouth.

“No way that’s the Choi San.”

“He’s changed the most out of all of us,” Mingi said almost proudly and you took a closer look. That was a boy in the picture and the San that you knew… he was a man, all muscles and presence. Mingi continued, “He’s still the same person, but physically, he’s changed quite a lot.”

“Unbelievable. Jongho is very recognisable, so are you though you’ve also changed, but San? I’ll have to ask him to show me more photos of him from before the war.”

Mingi chuckled. “You do that. Come on, let’s hide the documents.”

Mingi did a quick scan around the neighbourhood before opening the car door for you and you accompanied him inside the shabby house. It looked like no one lived inside which you supposed made a good spot for a hideout, even. Mingi told you that the house had a lot of secret compartments so you would be scattering the documents. You memorised each spot, making small talk as you went back to the warehouse.

On your ride back to the Crescent Office, Jaemin fell asleep, tired from all the energy he spent– he had as much a busy day as the rest of you, if not more. You let him rest his head against your shoulder, feeling a sense of peace, Yuta’s low humming lulling you into a calm headspace.

Things were going to be okay. The storm would pass.

But before a storm dies down, it leaves something irreparable in its wake. For you, for the Crescents, the storm was no longer a sign of ‘impending’ doom, because doom had arrived in the form of a whisper, a news carried by someone who was only a messenger yet felt the burden of the news on his own shoulder.

And that messenger was Jaebeom, finally bringing a message of confirmation in your office in the early hours of a morning in Eden when the sky had just started to clear, the clouds having wrung every drop of water they held. With each word that he spilled from his mouth, you felt the walls of Yunho’s office room tighten until they threatened to swallow you whole. 

For once, you were sorry to be right about someone.

And once again, you were surprised at how wrong you were about the same person.

next chapter

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[studioeisa]

like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.

little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.

★ seungcheol x reader.  ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️‍🩹

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.

When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.

Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.

It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it. 

The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.

There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.

Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse. 

“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles. 

The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels. 

You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice. 

Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows. 

“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.” 

Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw. 

“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. 

Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be. 

April 8, 2017 

Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try. 

It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead. 

I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out? 

I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.

Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.

I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet. 

Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.) 

When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate. 

It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything. 

You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow. 

The mark smoothed out instantly. 

Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple. 

Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds. 

You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment. 

His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” you mutter back. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.” 

An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met. 

You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same. 

“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest. 

He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly. 

You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air. 

Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces. 

He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless. 

“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind. 

But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?” 

That’s always gotten to you. 

“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.” 

In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again. 

June 15, 2017 

Cheol and I are on the run. 

He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in. 

As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying. 

Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”

Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.) 

When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought. 

Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help. 

He did not return unscathed. 

Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you. 

“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”

The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt. 

“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.” 

Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug. 

“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost. 

“No more playing hero?” you ask. 

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again. 

You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin. 

Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?” 

“Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.” 

“Shut up!”

The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him. 

September 23, 2017

Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore. 

I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted: 

The first breeze that tells you winter is coming 

The kindness of people who don’t know you 

The smallest fish in the sea

Date nights with Cheol 

Clean water 

Breakfast

My parents

Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building. 

But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be. 

May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows. 

When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.

Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.

He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine. 

“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.

He was with you. He was kind. He was yours. 

Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs. 

There is not much that you remember after that. 

The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.

The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.

When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt. 

You kiss him. Again.

And again. 

And again. 

December 1, 2017

The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds. 

▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.

You’re so unfair. 

I still want you. 

Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou. 

What now? 

My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—

▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.

This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.

It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty. 

We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved. 

[my-alter-ego777]

His Nose

Eminem fanfic, 18+, dirty talk, suggestive, language, Sry for any poor grammar or cringe; I'm still new to writing fanfic and am not fully confident in my work yet.

Marshall's sitting at the kitchen counter, answering some emails on his laptop, when you come walking past him.

You planned on getting a little something to snack on, since you were only a little hungry and dinner would be in a couple of hours, but when you see his cute, concentrated face, a familiar urge delays you from your intended task.

"Boop," your fingertip departs from the tip of his nose just as swiftly as it made contact with it, and Marshall's head jerks back in the opposite direction in response.

"Would you quit that?" His voice comes out a hair raised and irritable, and you stop in your tracks, turning fully towards him.

"What?" you chortle, only slightly taken aback by his mini outburst. He gives you a stink eye.

"Don't play dumb with me; that's like, the 100th time you've done that shit to me today." With a shake of the head, he looks back at the screen. "Enough."

Okay, it was more like 6, but who's counting?

Your eyes flicker over, noticing the "I'm feeling..." blue-colored frame of Marshall's "Mr.Potato Head non-verbal mood magnet" on the fridge has been placed over the Stressed Mr. Potato Head, before flickering back. (It's something you got for him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer, to which he rolled his eyes, but you'll catch him using it sometimes.). You don't really comment on it, though; you just smile to yourself, then move about your day.) Which is understandable. He's been pretty overwhelmed lately.

With the weight of his upcoming tour, getting everything to run smoothly, and a big shipment of his new merch getting sent to the wrong location, you'd be stressed too, at the very least frustrated, and you are, because you sympathize with him.

He's your husband, for God's sake.

What affects him affects you, and you care so deeply about him; you just want to see him happy and taken care of. Marshall works his ass off, and there are times when he can forget to take a break and other times when he just flat out rejects it.

Like now, for example. He may not outright say it exactly, but his body language oozes with the unhealthy amount of strain he's putting on himself.

Isn't this stuff what he has Paul, Tracy, and other members of his team for? You inwardly ask yourself.

This man does too much, I swear.

But knowing Marshall, it'll be difficult to pull him away from his determined task at hand, so... you start formulating a plan in your head.

"Ooo," you express playfully, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Someone is grum-py."

"Babe, for real," he warns, not even glancing at you now, "I don't like my nose bein' touched." and mumbles, almost to himself, after, "I don't like my nose, period."

"But, I love your nose." You argue softly, resting your cheek on his shoulder, getting a closer view of the adorable side profile of his snoot, and tightening your arms.

"Stop playin'" he grumbles, about done with your antics, and carries on typing out a response to one of a hundred emails.

"I'm not," you justify, "I love it." then proceed to speak with a mellow fondness. "I love how it flares when you get angry..."

"I love how it crinkles when you laugh... or when I boop it."

You smile when he rolls his eyes and continue,

"I love how it tickles my neck when you nuzzle your face into it..."

"...And I especially love how it presses against my clit when you're eating out my pussy."

His fingers go still for a moment, but it's just a moment too long that you notice before they're tapping the keyboard again, clumsily this time, you might add.

Hook.

"Makes my legs get all shaky, but I still manage to suffocate that gorgeous head of yours with my thighs, huh?" Your voice has slid into a sultry tone with ease, and you watch as his jaw flexes and his chest begins to rise with heavier breaths. "... and my hips just grind harder and harder into your face while those sweet, desperate sobs rip from my throat, begging you for more." One of your manicured hands draws lazy, teasing small circles into the skin right above the band of his sweatpants, and you feel his stomach muscles tense.

Line...

"You like that, baby?" You purr in his ear, and his hands have then formed into tight fists atop the marble countertop, and those cerulean eyes are relentless in breaking their stare on the cupboard straight ahead of him, like he's trying his hardest to hold onto that last thread of self-control. "'Cause I'm getting so fucking wet just thinking about it."

The blue that once invaded his eyes is swallowed whole by a deep, dark, and deliciously dangerous black.

Sinker.

You don't have a reaction time fast enough for what Marshall does next.

This man is out of his seat at the speed of light, and you tumble backwards in the process, about to land on your ass, but a pair of strong hands stops that from happening, and instead, throws you over their owner's shoulder.

Your yelp, from being handled like a rag doll, is quickly followed by bubbly laughter.

"You enjoy messin' with me, huh, minx?" His voice is rough as he makes large strides out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your shared bedroom. The incomplete email on his laptop was completely forgotten. Good. "Think you're so fucking cute..."

"Mm," you hum in feigned thought and a coating of innocence, your hands placed on his back to support yourself, "I think I'm pretty freakin' adorable."

Your comment earns you a firm smack on the ass, causing you to bite back a groan and your walls to tighten in response.

"Keep talkin', baby," he taunts, gravely, his thick fingers squeezing the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs, "keep talkin'..."

When you enter the bedroom, Marshall doesn't hesitate to throw you onto the bed, making you burst into giggles with anticipation.

"Now," he demands lowly, stalking towards you like a predator, "here's what's going to happen." The closer he gets, the faster your heart races. "You're gonna be a good little girl and show me exactly just how much you love my nose," His fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so you lock eyes. "Understood?" It wasn't a question, but you nod dumbly anyways.

"Good girl," he smirks darkly, admiring your submissive body like a starved man offered a feast, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "Take off your clothes."

Well, not that you care at the moment, but it looks like you're not having a little snack or, as a matter of fact, dinner anytime soon, because the way he's devouring you with just his stare alone tells you that you're in for a looong night.

[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 3

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue. Longing????

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is finally here, I apologize for the delay, but I wanted to make this as good as I could for all of you. Also the vows used are my personal favorite and I think they fit the story well. I hope you enjoy, thank you, and happy readings!

You’re looking over the latest shipment, fingers dancing down the list of numbers, eyes scanning over the page from left to right. 

“You know, I heard most brides should be relaxing before their big day, having a night out on the town with their friends. Why am I not surprised you’re still here sweetheart?"

Your fingers still, eyes flitting up to see you father at the open door of your office, you offer a warm smile, “m'about done, just doing a final check before the weekend, wanted to make sure our numbers were right come Monday when we merge with the Barnes, didn't want a single hair out of place. And I'll have you know that Becca and I had a girls night yesterday by the way, we plan on catching a late dinner tonight as well so consider that my night out on the town.” 

Your father chuckles stepping into your space, your eyes flit back to the sheet as he draws closer, his presence looming at your side as he watches you. He waits till you’ve skimmed the last of the page, till you’re relaxed back against the office chair eyes on him before he speaks. 

“How are you doing my girl,” he murmurs reaching out to stroke your head, “I’ve been worried about you since your mom called you home and delivered the news.” 

“I don’t know how to feel dad,” you answer honestly, “should I feel happy, sad, angry, regret?” 

“Regret?” he questions. 

“This isn’t the way this was supposed to go,” you say. “I planned a wedding for tomorrow that isn’t mine, everything up to the last detail is hers, it's not mine and now I’m expected to step up – to step in for my family. Do you know what that’s going to feel like? To look like? Stepping in to a wedding that screams ‘This isn’t yours’, a wedding that you didn't invision." What if she comes back dad, what if she comes to her senses and decides she wants him back? What then? Are you going to discard up the contract like you did that night? Discard my feelings as if they meant less than hers?” 

Your father looks stricken by your words, “but we thought it’s what you wanted sweetheart, you didn’t fight us on it, you willingly let him sign so we assumed it's what you wanted too."

You scoff with a shake of your head, maybe you’d settle on feeling anger. “Of course I made it seem like it's something I wanted. Forgive me for not wanting to put myself through a one-sided marriage. He fell for her dad the first night he laid eyes on her and he was locked in, he loves her, he chose her. So of course I let him go despite my breaking heart. I refused to be the cause of someone’s unhappiness, to be the cause of my own unhappiness because I deserve someone who will love me back, who would choose me and he wasn’t going to chose me.” 

‘I can’t do this to her.’ 

But he could do it to you. 

“Sweetheart I’m -” 

You bring a hand up, “Please don’t dad, I’ve agreed to this because I know what it meant to our family, and I’ll play my role just as you asked but please don't ask more of me, there's only so much that I can give, and I think I've given enough."

Your fathers struck by your words, and he can only watch as you stand from the seat gathering your things. It’s only once you’ve reached the door of the office you turn to regard him, “I’ll see you tomorrow dad.” He wants to call you back,  to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness because how could he have not seen it. Seen what that night did to you, he should have done more for you, fought it, but all he could think of that night was the merger, the safety it would bring both families. He thought of everyone’s happiness but your own that night. They all did. 

“You know my offer still stands to be your getaway driver for tomorrow right?” 

Despite the tears blurring your eyes you still manage to snort out your laughter, “Your brother would have us tracked down in minutes Bec’s there’s no where you could go that he wouldn’t find you, he has plenty of people that owe him favors just ready to cash in. Also don't get me started on the hell my father would reign, I don't take his position till after I marry."

“It was a worth a try,” she grumbles stabbing a noodle, “I just hate to see you hurting y/n, this isn’t how the night before your big day should be going, you should be happy – those tears shouldn’t be sad ones.” 

You smile sadly at the noodles in the takeout box before looking over the coffee table at your best friend, “but this isn’t my big day Bec's, I'm doing this for our families." Rebecca abandons her noodles all but crawling over the wooden coffee table to get to you, her arms crushing you in a welcomed embrace. “Tomorrow is for you y/n, I know none of it feels like it is, but its for you, I promise it is.” 

Your fingers curl around your friend as more tears slip from your eyes, god how you wish that were the truth. You would give yourself tonight to cry, to be hurt, to feel angry, but tomorrow, tomorrow it would all be different - you'd learn to mask it. You would no longer cry, no longer allow this pain to consume you, you were going to fight for your happiness - real happiness, and ensure you got every bit of it you deserved. 

Bucky remembered the nights the two of you would be out in the backyard of the Barnes residence, a soft blanket laid out beneath the two of you, the stars coating the night sky as you two drew up the image of the ‘perfect wedding’ a wedding between the two of you that was written in the stars. Looking around the chapel now he doesn’t see a single speck of you in the details. Though why would he, this wedding wasn’t yours despite all the effort you had gone to make sure it was perfect and it really wasn’t his – was it?  

He still recalls the day your sister eagerly announced their engagement to both families, he had imagined this being one of the most exciting moments in his life but where was that sought after feeling? He had found no excitement when she mentioned that you and her would be going dress shopping for the first time since the engagement dropped, no eagerness in wondering what she would look like in her chosen all white dress. If anything he felt like he had been outsider to most of it, the cake testing, the linen choosing, the food tasting, and at the time he couldn't quite understand why. Where had that rush he felt with you in his backyard gone? This was his wedding, he should feel happy, so why didn't he, what was missing?

Bucky thought he might be devastated when his mother rang him to tell him about your sister not being able to go through with the wedding. He thought he might have been crushed when he received her text: Please forgive me. I love you, but I can't do this. He thought he might feel hurt when his number was blocked shortly after, but he felt nothing.

Now though as he stands at the head of the chapel, Steve and Sam at his side a feeling Bucky can’t place his finger on crushes his chest as he looks over the families lining the pews of the church. There are quiet whispers filtering through the air, and Bucky thinks that's what may be causing the feeling. Or maybe it was the fact that you still hadn’t entered through the closed doors of the chapel.  

Had you unlike your sister gotten actual cold feet, or maybe you finally decide to do something for you, something that wasn't at the benefit of your family.

Steve leans in from where he’s stood at his side, “would you like me to go check on them pal?” Bucky’s lip's part on an answer but the doors to the chapel are pushing in, his sister albeit a little disheveled makes her way down the aisle, quiet apologies on her lips as she takes her spot on your side.

He looks at her in question, "we hit a bump in the road," she mouths, "she's coming."

Bucky wants to question her further, but then the piano is being queued, the doors swinging open and just there at the entrance you stand with your father, your arms entwined together.

He forgets how to breathe.

Bucky watches your father guide the two of you down the aisle, both family's stood on their feet. The feeling that weighed him down earlier is now replaced with something new as your father closes the distance. You're dressed in a silk white dress, a delicate veil placed in your hair, a simple piece yet on you it looked incredibly stunning, so this was the bump in the road.

He meets you and your father, your hand being placed in his, "take care of my girl son." Bucky looks at your father, his hand squeezing yours, "I give you my word sir." your father nods placing a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot by your mother.

It's just you and Bucky for a moment as he leads you up to the officiant, "I'm sorry for being late," you whisper, "I -" He turns to you then as you stop before the officiant, his other hand taking yours, "there's nothing to be sorry for I understand, you're here now, you look beautiful sweetheart."

He's left you speechless, but there's no room for words as the officiant begins the ceremony.

Bucky can't take his eyes off you, not even as he repeats the vows he's supposed to, his eyes only ever part from yours when he goes to present you with the ring Steve passes him, and even then they're on yours shortly after as he makes his promise to you. He cant quite describe the feeling that passes over him when you take the ring from Becca eyes locked on his as you make your vows to him sealing it with the ring over his finger.

Why did he ever let you go?

"James Barnes and Y/F/N Y/L/N, having proclaimed your love and commitment to one another in the eyes of these loved ones, and with the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church and the state of New York, I am so happy to pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant turns his attention to Bucky then, "You may kiss your bride."

You and Bucky had only ever kissed one other time, and it was a moment like this one that he knew he would never forget.

He's on his side looking down at you, taking in the beauty of your features as your eyes dance across the starry sky. "I'd want to write my own vow's," he proclaims, "it would feel more personal, more us."

He loves when your eyes find his, there's a brightness in your eyes at his proclamation, "I'd love that too B, care to share with me a bit of what you'd say?"

He know's you're teasing but in that moment he doesn't care, he thinks he may be able to tell you tonight, to show you just how much he cares, how much he loves you. "I vow to fiercely love you in all your forms now and forever," he breathes grinning at the soft surprise that skirts over your features. "I promise to never forget that this is a once-in-a-lifetime love. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

He thinks you might have been the first to move, your hand finding the back of his head, the other the side of his face as you caressed his cheek, he knows there's love in your eyes as you pull him a little closer, the whispered words, 'you may now kiss the bride' ghosting over his lips just before they met yours.

He's certain he's the one that's moved first this time, one hand finding your waist, the other your cheek as he pulls you closer. He can see the fear, the worry there in your eyes, and he caresses your skin in hopes of easing that worry as he closes the distance between the two of you.

And just before his lips slot over yours Bucky vows then to mend the promises he had broken.

The Arrangement Taglist:

If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know, Many Thanks <3

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr @esposadomd @roofwitty779 @pattiemac1 @sebastians-love @scott-loki-barnes @mrsnikstan @metanoiablxxm @lostyx @missvelvetsstuff @casa-boiardi @shoutingcardinal @tiedyedghoulette @littleeuphoriaelf @polireader @armystay89 @cjand10 @railmesebstan @agardenflower25 @brckenmemories @mcira @loki-laufeyson68 @edelweissbarnes @unaxv @ghalouha @wasalreadyhere @broadwaybabe18 @mavs101 @stormy-stardust @shadowrose13-blog1 @laha1na

[unholyhelbig]

https://www.tumblr.com/unholyhelbig/748001277238181888/ive-reread-the-entirety-of-oversight-again-and

i’ve done this as well. i think u should 😌😏😉☺️🥰

Title: Rose Colored Glasses [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader gets word that Natasha is hurt and rushes home to assess the situation.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): injury to nose & foot, slight blood, and shrimp

[a/n: Did someone request more oversight? Because I've got you covered. This is pure fluff, sorry for the lack of angst! It's short, and sweet, and not proof read because I don't have time :( ]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

A quiet house was never a good sign. Growing up in the foster care system teeming with other wards of the state had taught you that. Often, you were three or four to a room. There were bunk beds with sheets slotted against the ceiling or stuffed under the mattress above your own, just for some type of barrier. It was an illusion of privacy, most of the time. Because houses like that were never quiet.

When you’d moved in across from Darcy after your 18th birthday, things weren’t quiet. Above you was a Latin-American couple that would wait until just past midnight to turn on a slow, rhythmic song and dance. Their steps were soft, and calculated. They carved out time for one another every single night between shifts. Just for the two of them. You often let the thumping base lull you to sleep.

The city was just outside your window. In the summer, you could prop it open with a brick and let the sounds of cars become a backdrop. There were sirens, and when the fire hydrant on the corner was loosened, the world welcomed a cold blast of water, sprinkling into the street. That was the opposite of quiet. That made your chest feel light, and warm.

After marrying Natasha Romanoff, you settled into the loudness of her home. Your home. Veronica was constantly running around the twists and turns of the bottom floor, Clint or Kate or Darcy galloping after her with a big smile on their face. They slowed themselves to make sure they didn’t break anything, but they wanted her to win, too.

Yelena often came with the muffled sounds of Russian techno bands coming from the headphones around her neck. It was a staple to find her in the kitchen with her head down, slicing into an apple from the backyard with precision unknown. Natasha would tug the headphones off to get her attention, or to send her into annoyance.

The night that Natasha got hurt was stifled with the sound of rain. It had soaked you to the bone, dripping onto the linoleum floor and then the carpet as you ascended the stairs two at a time. You’d been at the docks later than usual, the storm that had plagued the side of the harbor was relentless and delayed shipments.

The captain of the shipping boat your family had utilized for decades wanted to discuss something over whatever crap coffee you could beat out of the machine in your office. He spoke with a thick southern drawl, his mustache was encrusted with salt and sand. You had shed your coat and tried to warm yourself up by hugging your mug to your chest. Nothing seemed to work.

While you weren’t opposed to giving the man a raise, you were not the final say. Natasha was, and you figured he could use the company more than anything. The captain flicked through books that were on the shelf, taking two or three for his next journey out to sea. It was like clockwork with him, and you indulged his need for quiet companionship each time.

When your phone rang, you never looked at the caller ID. Those who were privileged enough to get your number knew to talk without any of the pleasantries that they were used to. Clint’s voice came through the receiver in a smooth, hushed tone that made you believe he wasn’t supposed to be calling you in the first place.

“Look, y/n, there’s been an… incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

He was meant to escort her to one of the many cocktail parties that Carlos LaMuerto was throwing at his mansion that bordered the same body of water that you resided on now. They were lovely get-togethers that you often attended with your wife. This, however, was the fourth one this month and your stomach was turning at the idea of another cocktail shrimp and lamb pate.

Clint had offered, seeing the desperation in your eyes. And while Natasha was reluctant, she ultimately agreed. No news of a bust had reached you yet, nor had a gun blazing argument. While the Captain licked his dry lips and scanned the books in front of him, you continued in hushed tones.

“Nat’s hurt. It’s not a big deal, you can finish up your business. She’s just being stubborn is all.”

An escaped sigh “I’ll be there.”

No shit, she was being stubborn. Your wife was bull-headed and wouldn’t admit to the smallest defeat. It eased your nerves slightly, and only slightly, that Clint said it wasn’t a big deal. No gunshot to the back, or knife to the throat. It wasn’t good enough, however.

Natasha would be upset that you tracked mud into the house and left your boots sloshing by the door. You were panting by the time you reached the double doors that led to your bedroom. They were, of course, blocked by Clint and Kate. Yelena was leaning lazily against the railing that was parallel. She regarded you with an uninterested stare.

“You did not have to come here.” She said, “We’ve got it handled.”

“She kicked all of you out, didn’t she?”

“What? She certainly did not!”

Yelena’s voice pitched with her lie. Kate’s cheeks turned an off-shade of pink and Clint just rthe hallway, that was a good sign. Still, neither of the two moved to let you into your own room.

“If you’re not going to get out of the way, can you at least tell me what happened?”

There was a muffled reply from behind the door. With the way that the voice flitted, you knew that she was trapped on the bed. Otherwise, she would have leveled you with a glare right here and now. The words were simple “Do it, you die.”

“Oh, come on,” You whispered harshly, turning your attention to Kate instead. She was the easiest to break. “Katie, what is the harm in letting me through? I’m going to catch my death if I stay in these clothes.”

“Catch your death?” Clint scoffed “What are you? A poet from the 1800’s?”

“I’m about to be breaking your fingers if you don’t-“

“You can’t even break wind,”

The two of your voices combined as you kept at it. You didn’t’ miss the wary look that Kate shot Yelena. One way or another, you’d get into your room. You refused to be banished to the couch again, especially in wet clothes. If you had to threaten ruining the rugs with your muddy footprints, so be it.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You held up both of your hands, silencing the chaos of the corridor. “Nat, you are my wife, you’re hurt. Whether you like it or not, I’m coming in. Does anyone have any objections?”

Kate went to raise her hand, but Yelena yanked it back down and shook her head no. You tore into Clint with a look that could drop him dead. He relented and stepped away from the door. While you had a moment of peace, you walked into the dark of the room. She’d turned out the lights, save for the half-moon that showed a pale pattern against the carpet.

When you reached for the light switch on the wall, Natasha let out a noise that was similar to a wounded animal. You halted, your actions and made out her form on the bed. She was folded in on herself, her silhouette rigid.

“Baby,” you cooed, closing the distance between you and the bed. She grunted again, this time in pain. She attempted to turn away from you. You lowered yourself onto the sliver of bed, approaching the situation softly. “Can I turn on a light?”

“No, I’m hideous.”

You chuckled softly “I highly doubt that, my love. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Natasha had never liked being vulnerable around you. It had taken a full weekend of you nursing her back to her feet after the incident on the pier for her to let herself cry. You held her for hours, her nose pressed against the small of your neck. She’d gripped onto you, as if you’d leave. But you never would.

Eventually, you saw her shadow nod. Before she could change her mind, you flicked on the lamp on the side table. It didn’t’ have a far reach, but the light was less harsh on the both of you. It was impossible not to notice the blood that had dried against Natasha’s nose, a split right down the middle.

You’d seen her with broken bones before, bruises that wrapped around her midsection. You’d put ace bandage around her ribs after drawing her a bath. This was nothing to be ashamed about. In fact, she often saw them as battle scars that would heal in a pink gash.

Her foot was wrapped up with a bag of peas and one of frozen carrots that Clint, or even Yelena had situated. There was bruising around her ankle, it looked painful and you internally winced at the coloring. She groaned into the small of her elbow.

“I want to die”

“Natty, it’s okay. This is nothing a cozy weekend inside can’t fix.”

She said something that was quiet and muffled by her arm. You didn’t understand her one bit, but she squeezed a single tear from her eye that you wiped away dutifully before it could reach the silk of sheets.

“What was that, baby?” You asked gently.

She threw both of her hands down and glared at the ceiling. Her fingers eventually found yours, squeezing your palm in reflex. Her words came out in a quick breath, “I tripped over a carpet at the stupid dinner party and hit my face on the catering table.”

You were effectively silenced. That was very un-Natasha. But lately, you and Clint had been pestering her about her eyesight, especially at night. It wasn’t something she wanted to hear. In fact, each time you brought up the idea of glasses, she would effectively silence you with a glare, or even a kick to the shin under the kitchen table if you had company.

You bit the inside of your cheek and ran your thumb over her hand. She clutched your hand tighter. Now was certainly not the time to laugh, and while you fought back the initial giggle, you were more concerned about your wife.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“I bet you got right back up.” You said, pressing your palm against her cheek. “None of those fancy party types would dare question your influence on this city.”

“Shrimp went flying everywhere.” Natasha pouted.

“Everyone was tired of shrimp anyway, even the shrimp.”

She grasped at the collar of your jacket and pulled you closer to her, pressing her lips against your own. They were warm, the warmest thing that you’ve felt since getting caught in the passing storm. You were careful not to lean on her ribs, breathing in the rosewater scent of her.

Natasha pressed her forehead against yours, running a hand up your spine. She grimaced. “You’re all wet.”

“Well now I am,” You smirked against her jawline, leaving a little nip in your wake. “You need to get glasses.”

“Don’t change the subject. You’re getting the sheets all damp, and you smell like fish.”

“I smell like fish?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to the exposed part of her neck. You felt Natasha laugh too, using her hands to cover her face from the blush that was blooming against her cheeks. “We’re talking about me?”

She laughed harder, attempting to shove you off but you let your body go slack against her, not using your arms to hold yourself up anymore. “Yes! Go shower!”

“Mm, but you’re so warm.”

“You’re not going to be warm if I make you sleep on the couch.”

You gasped dramatically, pulling your head off her stomach and meeting her dark green stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. After the day I’ve had, I refuse to sleep next to my wife when she smells like a marina.”

Even while she said it, her voice was gentle, her fingers working over your scalp to brush the wet hair from your eyes. You pulled yourself up to give her another peck on the lips, careful to avoid the split nose and busted ankle.

“Fine, but only because you need more aspirin.”

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t believe I let you through my defenses.”

“Uh-huh. Get some rest. I’m going to go talk to your defenses about getting you an appointment with an optometrist.”

You turned to move towards the bathroom, already craving the warmth of a shower and some clean pajamas. Two steps from the doorway and you felt a plush throw pillow hit you directly on the back of the head. Natasha had amazing aim, always had, and always would.

You bent down and picked up the gold upholstered pillow, giving her a faux glare. “You’re not getting this back.”

“Oh, come on, baby.” She stuck out her lower lip “I have to prop up my foot.”

“You should have thought of that before you launched it at my head.”

 [Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Three]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: This one is entirely in Matt's POV and I'm curious to see how y'all react to his side of things! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably@two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @thychuvaluswife @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music

The ear-splitting and repeated honking of car horns on the street below harshly woke Matt, the sound shrill and piercing first thing in the morning. Seconds later the continuing noise drew forth a pounding headache that reverberated painfully in his head. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he rolled onto his side with a groan, his entire body loudly protesting the movement. He could feel a few new bruises he'd added to the others already scattered around his body, the new ones violently throbbing along his lower back and his left shoulder as consciousness abruptly returned to him.

Matt had been out well into the early morning hours running around Hell’s Kitchen tracking a man by the name of Petrov. He was the man that Matt had recently come to learn was the current leader of the Russian mafia now settled in his city. All of last night he had been trying to figure out where the new shipment of drugs would be coming into Hell's Kitchen at, but he'd yet again come home without the information he'd wanted. In a sour mood, he'd taken his anger out on a mugger while returning to his apartment, leaving the man more battered than he probably should have. 

And his sour mood quickly returned when he realized he was alone in his bed again, the cold from the lack of you often curled under the sheets with him exceptionally noticeable this morning–more than it had been for the past few weeks. Because you had left him, deciding not to stay and wait for him to return the other night. Leaving him like everyone else always did, unable to accept that he and the Devil were the same man. That he needed to let that other side of himself out to protect Hell’s Kitchen.

He'd heard the way you'd slammed the door on your way out of his apartment that night. He knew how hurt and upset you’d been. But when you’d started crying because he had been planning to go out again, he'd wanted to comfort you– tried to–but you'd rejected him so easily instead. And that hurt him deeply. Because Matt had always thought you were different, that you understood him. That you loved him for who he was–you'd certainly always assured him that you did. 

But it sure as hell hadn’t felt like that to him the other night. Not with how quick you were to reject him and walk out on him. You’d never tried to reach out to him all of Friday, either. Whatever important thing you’d wanted to discuss with him the other night must’ve been what he’d initially suspected it to be. That you wanted to end the relationship. Truthfully he hadn’t wanted to hear you say the words out loud which was partially why he didn’t want to give you a chance to speak.

Matt knew he'd been canceling plans on you repeatedly, though he admittedly hadn't realized just for how long he'd been doing it with the way his days had been blurring together from his lack of proper sleep. But it hadn't been intentional. He hadn't meant to hurt you and he'd felt terrible every single time he had. It always nagged at him while he was out, the memory of the way your heart stuttered each and every time you saw him in his suit never far from his mind as he tried to focus on his late night task. 

And it wasn't like he was out cheating on you or ditching you for his friends. What he was doing was the equivalent of being needed at a job–because that's how he saw what he did. As a responsibility he had to the people of Hell’s Kitchen. He'd honestly thought he'd be able to make it up to you once he'd gotten the situation with the Russians under control, but apparently he wasn't important enough for you to wait for him. And sure, he had to admit that he'd been awful to you the other night with the way he'd spoken to you, but the judgment and rejection from you had really upset him, as did the fear of hearing you tell him you were done with him. So he'd closed himself off to you, hoping to lessen how much you leaving him would hurt.

But Matt didn’t want to think about that this morning. His head ached enough from all the physical exertion last night and from not getting enough sleep. Those damn cars honking had ruined whatever sleeping in he hoped he’d have this Saturday morning, the sound of the city far too loud for him to lay back down and fall asleep now. 

Though if you’d been here–

With a growl Matt tore the sheets off of himself, tossing his legs over the side of his bed and shoving all thoughts of you to the side. He didn’t want to think about you right now. He wanted coffee, desperately hoping that would wake him up and help the throbbing of his head.

Shuffling out of his bedroom, half limping in pain as he walked, he navigated his way through his living room and into the kitchen. He went straight for his coffee maker, turning it on and preparing a pot of coffee. He knew he was going to need a few cups already. 

As the coffee brewed, Matt leant his back against the kitchen counter. His eyes closed as he ran a hand over his tired face, aware that his apartment seemed noticeably quieter and lonelier without you here. He’d been noticing that for weeks now, and every time he did he felt his heart sink a bit in his chest. Though this morning he almost felt sick at the emptiness here, as if someone had punched him right in the gut when he realized you were never coming back.

But you’d made that choice, he reminded himself. You had walked out on him. That thought only had Matt grinding his teeth together, anger coursing through him.

You weren’t the woman he’d thought you were after all. And that hurt.

The coffee machine began to sputter out his coffee, the noise loud and irritating to his ears this morning. Matt turned around, reaching a hand up to grab a mug from the open shelf on the wall. But a round of knocks coming from his apartment door rang out and he hesitated, his hand hovering just before the row of coffee cups. Brows furrowing together, his head shifted over his shoulder as he wondered how he’d been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized someone had approached his door. Though after a few seconds he soon realized that it was Foggy standing in the hallway and flipping through some paperwork that he’d brought with him.

Matt’s hand dropped to his side and he turned, a frown settling on his lips as he made his way through his kitchen and down his entryway hall. He unlocked the door, briskly swinging it open. It didn’t escape his notice how Foggy had startled in the hall at the abruptness.

“Fog,” Matt greeted flatly.

He could practically feel the way his friend’s eyes scanned over him, the sound of Foggy’s face shifting into a frown not lost on Matt. He imagined the bruises were quite visible, especially since he hadn’t managed to put a shirt on.

“You look like shit, Matt,” Foggy stated bluntly. “How long were you out last night?”

Matt turned, leaving the door open as he half-limped, half-shuffled his way back down the entryway hall. He listened as Foggy stepped inside, closing the door after himself before slipping out of his shoes. By the time Foggy had followed Matt into the kitchen, Matt had already managed to pour himself a cup of coffee, drinking a sip of it black.

“You want some coffee?” Matt asked him, avoiding the initial question.

“No, I’m good,” Foggy answered slowly, resting his arms on the kitchen counter and leaning over it. “I had some earlier before I left to come deliver the documents I told you I was bringing over this morning. Which I’m guessing…you forgot about, judging by the fact that it looks like you just rolled out of a dumpster that you used for a bed.”

Matt’s lips pursed together at Foggy as he drew his mug back up to his mouth, his eyes narrowing in obvious irritation. “Not a morning for jokes, Fog.”

“Is there ever with you lately?” Foggy grumbled. 

Matt drank down more of his coffee, the throbbing of his head not helped by the way Foggy was drumming his fingers along the countertop. He could hear the way his friend was looking around his apartment, probably noticing the way it had looked neater than usual. Which was due to the fact that neither of you had been in his apartment much for the past few weeks. The moment he heard Foggy’s mouth open, inhaling that small bit of breath, Matt knew what he was going to say. And it wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss.

“Where’s your other half?” Foggy asked, glancing back towards the closed bedroom door, entirely missing the way Matt had winced at the question. “Thought she usually spent the weekends with you. Is she still asleep?”

Matt ground his teeth together, roughly exhaling a sharp breath. He knew he’d ask about you.

“No, she’s not here,” Matt replied coldly.

He heard the way Foggy had stiffened against the counter at his words and the tone of his voice. Slowly, Foggy’s head turned back towards Matt. Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation, not liking the minute shift in Foggy’s posture.

“So the documents–”

“What’d you do, Matt?” Foggy asked sharply, cutting him off.

Matt’s hand gripped his coffee mug tighter in his fist, surprising even himself when it didn’t break in his grip. His jaw clenched at the question and the accusation from his best friend.

“What makes you think this was my fault?” he growled back, voice low and dangerous.

Foggy was nodding swiftly as if he’d known something had happened. He didn’t seem remotely affected by Matt’s obvious anger, clearly prepared to discuss this more. That only annoyed Matt further.

“So you two broke up? Karen and I thought as much with the way you’d been mopey and snippy around the office yesterday,” Foggy said. “What happened? Because one minute you’re telling me she’s the one, that she’s going to move in with you soon, and the next–” he waved a hand around the apartment, “–you’re a damn bachelor again. So what’d you do? Because I know damn well she didn’t end things, not with the way she always looked at you like the sun rises and falls out of your ass, Matt.”

“ She left me ,” Matt snarled back. “Why the hell is that so difficult for you to understand, Fog? Why must you always assume that I did something? Clearly she wasn’t who I thought she was because she couldn’t accept me and what I do. Who I am .”

“Ahh,” Foggy said, pushing off the counter. “This is because of Daredevil. I figured as much. So tell me what happened then, because I’m about to slap you upside the head and tell you you’re wrong.”

Matt stalked across the kitchen in aggravation, slamming his mug down onto the counter that separated him from Foggy. The hot liquid splashed over his hand as Foggy briefly jumped at his outburst. The faint scent of fear soon hitting his nose was what had Matt’s eyes snapping shut, aware he was getting too riled up at this topic. That his anger was finally starting to make Foggy nervous.

Because it was about you and it hurt.

“She said she had something she needed to tell me,” Matt replied through clenched teeth, trying to rein in his frustration and heartache. “But I needed to go out as Daredevil. I was planning to interrupt a meeting with the Russians. The ones I’d been telling you about.” He exhaled a sharp breath, his left hand clamping onto the kitchen counter as he continued, hoping to ground himself and control his rage. “She was upset that I was going out again when we’d had plans. Said she really needed to talk to me. So I told her she could tell me afterwards when I came back and she got upset.”

There was a brief silence following his explanation, Matt hearing the way Foggy’s head had shifted to the side.

“And you were…growly Devil when you were talking with her weren’t you?” Foggy asked, gesturing a hand at Matt. “Like you are now?”

Matt grunted, shame burning through him as his eyes once again fell shut. Yes. 

“Maybe,” he grumbled.

“Okay, so,” Foggy continued carefully, “if I’m understanding this right, you’ve been canceling plans on your girl for a while now and she’d been upset about that. And then she comes and says she really needs to talk to you, and you what? Bail on her again? Quite aggressively, I’m gathering?”

“That’s–that’s not exactly right,” Matt said, shaking his head. “I didn’t bail on her. The city needed me, Fog.”

“Sounds like she needed you more, buddy,” Foggy countered.

Matt’s eyes snapped open, his sightless gaze landing somewhere near Foggy in a glare. “I gave her the option to stay and wait for me to come back. To tell me what she needed to then. She chose to leave. I haven’t heard from her since, so I’m guessing her important talk was about her wanting to tell me that she wanted to end things. That she couldn’t handle me being Daredevil after all.”

Foggy scoffed, shaking his head at Matt. He could hear the way his friend’s mouth had yet again curved into a frown. Something like guilt twisted in Matt’s stomach at the way that night had played out but he quickly buried it under his anger and hurt. 

“Why do you do that?” Foggy asked softly.

“ What ?” Matt snapped.

“This,” Foggy answered, waving a hand frantically at Matt. “That self-sabotaging thing you do. Things were good with you both. Great, actually. You were happy , Matt. And then you go diving into your hero bullshit and push people away. Making assumptions about her wanting to end things like you know that’s exactly what she wanted to talk to you about.”

“I do not self-sabotage,” Matt shot back. 

“Then why’d you push her away?” Foggy countered.

“Because the city needs me!” Matt exclaimed in exasperation, throwing his hands on his hips. “You know that and she knew that!”

A glaring silence settled in Matt’s apartment after his loud outburst. Matt’s tongue slipped out, wetting his lips repeatedly in his agitation. He heard the very faint sigh Foggy emitted, even with the way his headache had worsened.

“I think you’re reading things entirely wrong, man,” Foggy said, tone softer. “I don’t think she was trying to break up with you. I think you fucked up. Big time. And judging by the way you’re incredibly defensive and angry, you really, really love her.”

Matt’s nostrils flared, his eyes still glaring sharply in the direction of his friend. Though a part of himself was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Foggy was onto something. At least, about him fucking up. He was still pretty certain you’d wanted to break up with him. Because he had been canceling plans on you for weeks now. And you’d been getting hurt by him doing that pretty quickly, too. And he’d noticed, but he kept on putting off making things up to you because he’d been too focused on prioritizing the Russians. He’d hurt you, too. Long before you’d hurt him.

That guilt and shame stirred in Matt’s stomach again, threatening to overtake his own rage and heartache. But he couldn’t have been wrong about what you’d wanted to talk to him about, right? Because what else could it possibly have been besides an ultimatum for him to quit being Daredevil and to choose you instead?

“I think,” Foggy continued slowly, “that you need to go call her up. Put your tail between your legs and go beg for her forgiveness, Matt. Because you fucked up, admit it. I can see that realization dawning on your face right now, buddy. Talk to her. Apologize on your goddamn knees every day until she takes you back. Because we both know she was the best damn thing that ever happened to you.”

“She was,” Matt whispered, his gaze dropping down to the floor. “She always was.”

“Then go get her!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his fist onto Matt’s countertop. “Fix things!”

He stepped around the kitchen counter, reaching out to slap Matt good-naturedly on the shoulder. Matt winced at the gesture when Foggy’s hand landed on a bruise and Foggy quickly muttered out an apology. 

Rubbing his arm, Matt let out a sigh. “How am I supposed to fix things, Fog?” he asked. “What if she really doesn’t love the part of me that is Daredevil like she thought she did? I can’t give this up. I’m not going to.”

“There’s no way that bullshit is the reason,” Foggy told him. “Not with all the different ways she’s been there for you and your vigilante ass this whole time, Matt. She loves Daredevil just as much as you. But as for fixing things?” Foggy shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man. I think your first step is to reach out to her, though. Try to get her to talk to you. Apologize and maybe find out what it was she needed to tell you. Because I’m guessing knowing what that was will tell you how royally you fucked up here.”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a sigh. “You’re probably right. Though I have a feeling she’s not going to want to talk to me.”

“You just keep trying until she does,” Foggy told him. “And if all else fails, maybe you can romantically show up on her fire escape and profess your love to her or something?”

Matt scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure Daredevil showing up on her fire escape would go over real well with her right now.”

[cinnamonest]

Uwahhh ty anon <3 I had two other requests for more Xingqiu content as well so please appreciate this thought blurb I've had drafted for a while

Something I've been thinking a lot about is that not only is Xingqiu so incredibly petty and picky and controlling, but it's made so much worse by the fact that he lacks self-awareness of it.

Like, he's always been told by adults that he's oh-so-mature for his age, and he's internalized that, made it part of his internal self-image. Not to mention, becoming a successful author isn't something most teens his age have accomplished either — he feels very “adult,” like he's smarter, more conscientious, more considerate than his peers, and better than them for it too.

And it’s true that most of the time, he usually is all of those things, but this makes him entirely unaware of the ways in which he is, in fact, very much immature.

He's picky. He likes to have things the way he wants them. Part of why he fails to realize how picky he is, is due to the fact that all his life, he's usually had anything he wants handed to him, and anything he finds issue with resolved, and it all comes so easily that he's never considered that perhaps it doesn't go that way for normal people, and that perhaps he wouldn't be quite so agreeable if he was ever told “no,” that his agreeableness and easygoing nature is really just due to the fact that he's never faced with anything to be disagreeable about, a near-total lack of resistance to his will. Even outside his family home, usually waving around money or speaking his father's name is enough to get him what he wants.

And being raised in an environment where he's only ever known a marriage dynamic where one specific partner is completely submissive to the will of the other, he's not even prepared to conceive of anything short of it. After all, his parents arranged the marriage to begin with, surely they would pick someone just as agreeable as his mother.

He likes to pick what you wear each day. When the servants ask what you'd like to eat that day, he answers for you. When people ask questions about you, he answers for you too (although to be fair, in those social circles, they usually direct questions at him anyway, as if you're some animal that can't answer yourself).

He always tells you what you'll be doing, where you'll be going for the day, never asking for your preference — it quite literally simply does not even occur to him that you might have one.

It's not malicious, and he's got that usual cheerful and easygoing demeanor about it all, but it's a clear total disregard for your personhood nonetheless, even if not intentional or conscious.

But you can tell there’s a certain degree of stubbornness in him. It comes out the moment there’s any resistance to his will, when there’s a moment where something can’t go exactly as he wants. It’s never directed at you, at first, since you have done everything in your power to comply, but you notice it coming out towards others — that time one of the family servants had to inform him they didn’t have something he asked for because a shipment was delayed, or when they tried to stop the two of you from leaving because his father needed to speak with him first, so on and so on. The sudden change in expression, tone, body language. Crossed arms and heavy irritated sighs, frustration in his voice — deliberate, a tone he knows will only make the poor family servants that much more apologetic. Maybe he likes feeling that power over them, you think.

The first time he hears no from you, though?

He doesn't even really know how to process it. Just a blank stare of stupor, a few blinks, the usual gentle smile hasn't even faded from his face.

…Huh? Come on, get up, like I said, we're leaving…

He reaches down to grab your arm — and you pull back. You swat his hand away. You cross your arms and clench your jaw and say that word again — no.

And there's a long, long pause.

…What?

You feel his hand wrap around your arm, this time too quick to pull back. He says it again, a tone that's merely confused, not angry, still in a state that's struggling to comprehend your resistance.

What are you doing? I said—

And you interrupt him.

You jerk out of his grasp. You scowl and tell him he can leave, that you're staying home, that you're mad and need time alone. You turn on your heel and start to walk away.

Once again, you feel his hand wrap around your arm.

Only this time, it's harsh.

And this time, it jerks you backward with a force that slings you down onto the ground.

There's a few seconds of silence. You hear his heavy breaths from the exertion of the movement.

You don't get to say something like that.

His words are still not angry, per se. Not harsh, more disbelief, almost intonated like a question.

Likewise, his expression and tone aren't ominously dark like some might be. It's more of a scoff, stubborn and still somewhat baffled. More petulance, rather than outrage.

And there's that same shift in expression and posture — the crossed arms, brows furrowed in disdain.

Really, what's gotten into you?

It's said more quietly, almost like a hissing sort of voice, grumbly, bitter. You're still in too much of a daze from the fall to react beyond a surprised grunt when you're pulled back up onto your feet, a few quick swipes of his hands dusting your off and smoothing our your clothes, only for him to notice a newly-formed tear in the fabric from the harsh movement. You get another exasperated sigh.

Now we'll have to have someone fix that…

This time, you're drug forward with force, a firm grasp on your wrist, a subtle threat that this time you ought not pull back.

And this time, as your feet stumbled forward in compliance, your obedience is clearly a source of satisfaction, based on the shift in his expression, the soft hum of contentment. Now that you, like everyone else, have bent to his will, as everything does with enough pushing.

It's good that whatever came over you was over so quickly. That was very unlike you.

Still, of course, he's going to be a bit cold and petty about it for a day or so, and you just know you'll get yet another overbearing mother-in-law lecture when he inevitably goes whining to her about your behaviors like he always does, always getting her to try and teach you how to behave properly, rectify any perceived flaw he finds with you, like a child begging Mom to repair a malfunctioning toy.

Can't have you thinking you could ever do something like that again. You really need to be more mature, he tells you. You can't always have things go the way you want in life.

[moncherriecoups]

Muted Hearts

Some love stories are whispered, not spoken. Some promises are signed, not said.

This is ours.

Petals unfurl, soft scents linger,

velvet red against her skin.

A question blooms with every stem—

does she dare to let him in?

His world is hushed, a vow in ink,

secrets locked behind his name.

She should resist, she should beware,

yet still—she stays, she plays the game.

──────────────────────────────

Seungcheol x f!oc

Potential another love interest

Tags: tense relationship, idolxoc, slowburn relationship, angst

Word count: 2.4k

──────────────────────────────

Chapter Three

The flowers arrive on a Wednesday.

Sua almost doesn’t notice at first—too caught up in the usual chaos of the gallery. Ari, her co-worker, is complaining about a delayed shipment, their inbox is overflowing, and a patron won’t stop asking if they can lower the price of a painting that’s already sold. The morning passes in a blur of emails and half-drunk coffee, and then there’s a knock at the entrance.

A courier stands at the door, dressed in all black, holding out a bouquet wrapped in soft cream-colored paper.

“Delivery for Jang Sua.”

She blinks, caught off guard, before hesitantly reaching for it. The petals are delicate, pale pink, and full—peonies. Her fingers brush against a small card tucked between them. The ink is precise, deliberate.

They mean bashful love.

There’s no name. But she doesn’t need one.

She knows.

Ari whistles low when she sees it, setting down her tablet with a smirk. “Wow. That’s the third one this week.”

Sua hums in response, already turning back to her screen. Maybe if she doesn’t engage, Ari will drop it.

She does not.

“Alright, so who’s sending you flowers every morning? Some art collector? A rich old man trying to impress you?”

Sua rolls her eyes, reaching for her coffee. “A client.”

Ari narrows her eyes, unconvinced. Ari isn’t buying it. “A client who sends you flowers every single day? What, did you sell him a Monet?”

Sua exhales slowly, fighting the warmth creeping up her neck. She should have thrown them in the break room vase like she did yesterday’s bouquet, but instead, they’re still in her hands, the petals soft beneath her fingertips. She doesn’t know what to call this yet. It’s not a relationship. Not really. But it’s something.

Something that lingers in her inbox at night.

How was your day?

Did you eat?

That painting you liked—it got sold, right?

Did you manage to say goodbye to it?

He notices things. He listens.

And that’s the problem.

—

Seungcheol sits in the dressing room, scrolling through his phone.

The others are loud around him, half-dressed for rehearsal, voices overlapping in every direction. He barely hears any of it, too focused on the read receipt that appears at the bottom of his screen. She saw his text. She hasn’t answered yet.

He doesn’t realize he’s been smiling until—

“Who the hell is ‘Sua’?”

His head jerks up.

Mingyu is standing in front of him, squinting at his phone. Seungcheol locks the screen immediately, but it’s too late. DK is already lunging across the couch.

“HYUNG, WHO IS SUA??” DK shrieks, eyes wide with betrayal. “Secret girlfriend? Hidden manager? Are you being blackmailed? BLINK TWICE IF—”

“Mind your business,” Seungcheol mutters, shoving him off.

Mingyu doesn’t let up, grinning as he nudges his shoulder. “No, but really. Who is she?”

“Someone important,” Seungcheol says simply, standing before anyone else can pry.

Across the room, Minghao doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t need to. He’s seen the way Seungcheol's shoulders relax when he checks his phone, the way his fingers hover before sending a text, as if every word has weight.

He already knows.

Minghao had noticed long before anyone else.

Not because Seungcheol was obvious—he wasn’t. He had always been careful, measured, keeping his private life locked behind knowing smiles and well-timed subject changes. But Minghao had been paying attention. He always did.

It started small.

The way Seungcheol checked his phone more often, how his gaze softened—just barely—before locking the screen again. The way he lingered in quiet moments, fingers hovering over a reply. And then there were the flowers.

The first time Minghao caught a glimpse of a delivery note sitting on Seungcheol’s desk, he didn’t think much of it. But then, he noticed another. And another. Different dates, the same sender. Seungcheol, who rarely entertained distractions, who always put logic before impulse, was sending flowers to someone almost daily.

Someone important.

Someone named Sua.

He had to hear it from Mingyu and DK first, of course—both of them far too loud, far too eager to dig into Seungcheol’s secrets. But Minghao didn’t need them to spell it out. He already knew.

And that was the problem.

Because Jang Sua wasn’t just a name to him.

She was someone he had worked with for months, someone he had admired—not in the way Mingyu or DK would tease him about, but in the way an artist recognized another. She had an eye for detail, an understanding of space, a quiet way of commanding a room without trying. He had mentioned her before—too many times, probably.

But Seungcheol had never reacted. Not once. Not even when Minghao brought her up in passing, when he spoke about her insight, her work.

Now, suddenly, she was his.

Minghao wasn’t angry. Not really.

But something about it sat wrong in his chest, like a half-finished brushstroke, like a piece of art that didn’t quite fit in its frame.

And maybe Seungcheol could sense it, because when they crossed paths backstage—just the two of them, away from the others—he hesitated. Just for a second.

“You’re seeing her.” Minghao’s voice was even, steady. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

Seungcheol didn’t deny it. Didn’t brush it off. He just met Minghao’s gaze, unreadable. “Yes.”

Minghao exhaled slowly, tilting his head. “You never told me.”

A pause. Then—“Did I need to?”

No. He didn’t.

But Minghao still felt the weight of something unsaid pressing between them, something that had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with the way Seungcheol had kept this hidden—not from the world, but from him.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Just be careful, hyung.”

Seungcheol didn’t ask what he meant.

And that, Minghao thought, was answer enough.

—

The cursor blinked at her, waiting.

Sua’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, the weight of her own hesitation pressing against her ribs. It shouldn’t be this hard. It was just a text. Just a few words. But the moment she sent it, there would be no taking it back.

She glanced at the bouquet sitting on her desk—the one he sent that morning. Something softer this time, pastel tulips arranged in a way that felt almost careful. Deliberate. It was ridiculous how easily he had woven himself into her routine, how his presence lingered in something as simple as the scent of fresh flowers filling the small space of her office.

With a deep breath, she tapped out the message before she could second-guess herself again.

Are you free for dinner?

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then—

Tell me when and where.

No teasing. No hesitation. Just quiet certainty.

She stared at his reply for a second longer than necessary, then typed—

Tomorrow night. The same place.

A pause. Then three dots reappeared—

I’ll be there.

Her phone felt heavy in her palm as she set it down, exhaling slowly. The decision had been made. Now, there was nothing left to do but face it.

—

The restaurant was quieter this time. No flashing signs, no murmurs of recognition from nearby tables. Just warm lighting, the hum of soft music, and the gentle clinking of silverware against porcelain. It was intimate—too intimate, maybe, for what this was.

Sua sat across from Seungcheol, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. The envelope rested between them, untouched, yet unbearably heavy. She could feel his gaze on her, waiting, patient in a way that made her chest tighten.

"You’re not eating," he said finally, voice quieter than usual.

She blinked, startled out of her thoughts, and glanced down at her barely touched plate. “Neither are you.”

His lips curved, but the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess I’m a little… preoccupied.”

So was she. The weight of her decision pressed against her ribs, an unspoken question lingering between them.

Seungcheol reached to the envelope between them, pushing it closer to her. The sight of it made her pulse skip—a simple, unassuming thing, yet heavy with everything it meant.

“This is it,” he said, voice low. “No pressure. If you need more time—”

“I don’t.” Sua reached for the envelope, fingers brushing against the fine paper, then hesitated. For a moment, she simply ran her fingertips along the edge, tracing the weight of the choice before her. Then, finally, she slid it toward her side of the table.

“I’ll sign it,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her.

Something flickered in his expression—relief, gratitude, something else she couldn’t quite name. He exhaled, watching her, and when his fingertips grazed hers as he gently pushed the pen toward her, a quiet shiver curled down her spine.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She swallowed, unsure what she was thanking him for. For asking? For waiting? For making this so much harder than it should be?

Seungcheol didn’t pull his hand away right away. His gaze lingered, softer now, something dangerously close to tenderness settling between them. “Are you sure?”

"No," she admitted. "But I want to be."

A slow breath left him, and then—so effortlessly it made her heart stutter—he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers. Not demanding. Not pushing. Just there, warm and steady.

Sua let him. Let the moment linger. Let herself believe, just for tonight, that maybe this wasn’t as complicated as it felt.

"Then that’s enough," Seungcheol said. And the way he looked at her—like she was something worth waiting for—made her think, just for a second, that maybe he was right.

—

As they stepped out into the night, the quiet hum of the city surrounding them, Seungcheol reached for her hand—slow, unassuming. Sua could have pulled away, could have let the moment slip between them like all the unspoken things that still lingered in the air. But she didn’t. Instead, she let her fingers slip between his, warmth meeting warmth, and when she finally looked up at him, he was already smiling.

──────────────────────────────

GAHHHHHHHHH here comes chapter 3!! If you haven't read the 1st and 2nd, go check my pinned!

And also, how do we feel about the HxW teaser???!!!!!

New chapter coming soon!!!

With love,

-S

[mariacallous]

Last month, the Trump administration placed a $1 spending limit on most government-issued credit cards that federal employees use to cover travel and work expenses. The impacts are already widely felt.

At the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, scientists aren’t able to order equipment used to repair ships and radars. At the Food and Drug Administration, laboratories are experiencing delays in ordering basic supplies. At the National Park Service, employees are canceling trips to oversee crucial maintenance work. And at the Department of Agriculture and the Federal Aviation Administration, employees worry that mission-critical projects could be stalled. In many cases, employees are already unable to carry out the basic functions of their job.

“The longer this disruption lasts, the more the system will break,” says a USDA official who was granted anonymity because they aren’t authorized to speak to the media about the looming crisis.

A researcher at the National Institutes of Health who tests new vaccines and treatments in rodents says he has had to put experiments on hold; his lab is not able to get certain necessary materials, such as antibodies, which are needed to assess immune response. “We have animals here that are aging that will pretty soon be too old to work with,” says the researcher, who requested anonymity as they aren’t authorized to speak publicly about the agency. Young mice and rats that are 6 to 8 weeks old are typically used for drug and vaccine studies, but some of the animals in their lab have now aged out of that window and may have to be euthanized.

They say NIH workers have been using internal listservs to ask for reagents and lab equipment from other buildings or institutions to try to compensate for shortages, but they’re not always able to track down what they need. The NIH is made up of 27 institutes and centers, and its Bethesda, Maryland, campus is spread across more than 75 buildings. “Sometimes you need something that's really niche, and you're just not going to find it from someone else on campus,” they say.

The change comes as Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency continues to hunt for alleged examples of waste across the federal government. Late last month, DOGE announced that it was working to “simplify” the government’s largest credit card program, which issues GSA SmartPay travel and purchase cards for federal employees. Last Wednesday, the agency claimed 24,000 cards had been deactivated.

The credit card program allows federal workers to bypass the typical procurement process required to buy goods and services. A 2002 report from the Department of Commerce said that, “by avoiding the formal procurement process, GSA estimates the annual savings to be $1.2 billion.” It also enables federal employees to avoid paying sales tax on expenses that the government is exempt from.

At the FDA, labs that analyze samples to ensure that food, drugs, medical devices, and cosmetics are safe and meet regulatory standards are already facing shortages. "While we are always acutely aware of when Congress’ funding is going to run out, we are able to order supplies to keep things going in the lab. This abrupt ending felt like the rug was being pulled out from under us," says an employee at the FDA who requested anonymity because they aren't authorized to speak with the media.

The employee recently placed an order for pipette tips, an essential laboratory supply, but found that order was put on hold. "Now we are running out, asking colleagues at other offices to share what they might not be using,” they told WIRED.

In addition, workers say FDA labs now have to go through a lengthy process to order liquid nitrogen, which is used to keep ultra-cold freezers running. These freezers preserve samples of cells and other biological material that reflect years, and sometimes decades, of research. Delays in getting liquid nitrogen tanks could destroy that material. Previously, new tanks could usually be acquired the same day as putting in a request. Now, it takes a week or so to receive a tank after initiating a request.

An employee at the Environmental Protection Agency says her facility is not able to place regular orders of liquid nitrogen at the moment. “We have dozens of these freezers full of important environmental samples that are imminently at risk of being lost because we can no longer get our regular shipments of liquid nitrogen,” says the employee, who requested anonymity. These samples are used as part of research on detection and remediation methods for chemicals such as PFAS, which are found in many products and break down very slowly over time.

“Scientists are being forced to jerry-rig the connection points on these freezers to accept pressures of liquid nitrogen they were not designed to handle,” the employee says. “Divisions are resorting to bartering with each other to obtain needed items.”

The FDA and EPA did not immediately respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

The credit card freeze also means that federal researchers who were working on scientific manuscripts can’t pay journal fees, meaning they can’t submit their work to certain journals for publication.

An employee at a federal forensics lab told WIRED that spending limits mean the lab is no longer able to pay to ship evidence back to agents, effectively halting its ability to do casework. Before a case goes to trial, defendants have the right to access and review evidence that the prosecution intends to use against them, which includes access to the evidence in their case. Defendants are able to send that evidence to an outside lab for analysis if they choose. “Cases can’t progress until we return the evidence,” says the forensics lab worker, who asked to remain anonymous. “I basically can’t do my job right now.”

NIH employees were told that travel cards could not be used at all for 30 days, forcing scientists to cancel plans to attend a major infectious disease conference next week. USDA employees at the Pest Identification Technology Laboratory have stockpiled reagents used for molecular tests in advance of the spending limits, according to the USDA official.

FAA employees who travel to work on and test aviation systems worry the credit card freeze will prevent them from completing their projects. “We are allowed to use our personal cards in emergencies but none of us trust them to pay us back now,” says one employee.

The impacts have hit the National Park Service as well. One employee was poised to go on a trip to oversee road maintenance at a national monument when the change went into effect on February 20. “Unless I want to pay for it myself, I can’t go. I can’t pay for my hotel, my rental car, fuel for the car. Now I can’t carry out the mission,” the employee says. “Today, instead of focusing on other work, I’m focused on three different contingencies on how to handle this. Do I go? Do I call my engineering team and tell them to reschedule? And if so, when? The project is on an indefinite hold.”

A memo written to staff at the National Park Service specified that “all travel that is NOT related to national security, public safety, or immigration enforcement should be canceled if it begins on Wednesday, February 26, through the end of March 2025.” A long-term decision on the travel policy, it said, will come “at a later date.” Some NPS staffers were able to travel in February despite not getting official clearance. They have now been told no travel will be allowed in March. To date, roughly 75 trips have been canceled or rescheduled, according to a source familiar with the situation.

The National Park Service did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

Some government employees say they were given a warning prior to the change being announced on February 20. “We went out and bought cases and cases of toilet paper the night before,” another current employee at the National Park Service says. “There’s a general acknowledgement that things are going to break.”

That employee works in the Pacific West Region, which manages federal land in California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Nevada, as well as parks in Arizona, Montana, Guam, and American Samoa. While the GSA did allow for the possibility of exceptions to the clamp-down, the employee claims there are only four purchase cards with spending limits above $1 available for the entire region.

Some of these parks pay for services like internet and wireless on purchase cards—leaving staffers wondering if their work devices could soon be cut off. “Before someone can fix a bathroom a work order has to be issued,” the current employee explains. “That happens electronically. Like any business, we rely on email, Teams, and chat to get things done.”

The spending limits reflect Musk’s belief in zero-based budgeting. After he purchased Twitter, he slashed the budget to zero and forced employees to justify every expense. He also froze people’s corporate credit cards.

“With the Twitter pausing of payments, at some point we were in a meeting at 1 am on a Saturday, and it was like, ‘Hey, let's turn the credit cards off to see what bounces, and what happens,’" explained angel investor Jason Calacanis on the All In podcast in February. (Calacanis was part of Musk’s transition team at Twitter.) “And of course, we started getting calls ... The people who come first, they're probably the ones who are in on the biggest grift.”

Employees see it a different way. “There are so many controls in place to make sure fraud doesn’t happen,” alleges the current NPS staffer. “I honestly believe the only fraud occurring is being committed by Musk, [Russell] Vought, and [Donald] Trump.”

[cwritesforfun]

Carmen Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Reservations of the Heart

Part Two - will be linked here eventually

Comment any better title suggestions and I might use it tbh

Y/N = Your First Name & L/N = Your Last Name

Masterlist

Carmy's POV

I've been messaging with the manager of this fancy French resort, who has one of the best chefs with the craziest modern techniques off and on for about a year. The boss, Miss L/N, seems capable and confident. I know that I want to learn from the great chef, Chef Laurent, but I may want to learn a thing or two about management from Miss L/N. I saw on the resort's website that they've won countless awards for being a happy place to work and for having the best manager. And my staff are always ragging on me and saying I'm too mean. I took this opportunity up because they kept saying for the Bear to stay successful, I needed to be more positive and fall in love with food again. And where better than a French resort? Ha!

I've actually been super excited about this for a while. I can’t wait to learn from everyone and hopefully try a few new food products. However, my flight was changed to 2 days earlier because it was an economy ticket, and the airline claimed they could just do that. I told Miss L/N and Chef Laurent a different day. I just hope there is room for me to stay and they're not mad.

After taking 2 flights and a cab to the resort, I finally arrived. The place is beautiful. Wow. The hotel attendant outside asks, "Hi, welcome to the Dupont Resort. How may I help you today?" I answer, "Yes, I'm Chef Berzatto and I was actually supposed to arrive in 2 days. But I forgot to tell Miss L/N about the flight change. I was hoping to speak to her and get a room for the next two days." The hotel attendant replies, "Ah, yes, we heard about you! We're so excited to learn from you here! Miss L/N is very accommodating. Head into the lobby and I'll let her know that you're here." I thank him and head inside.

Inside the resort, there are fancy crystal chandeliers and I can see snow-lined mountains in the back. This place is gorgeous.

I hear, "Mr. Berzatto?" I turn and am met with the most stunning woman I've ever seen. Please tell me she's just somehow a fan and not my boss. She's too hot.

Y/N's POV - rewind to the beginning of the day

This day is already long, and it's 8:05 am, which means you started work only 5 minutes ago. Everyone thinks your job is so easy until... you are met with endless logistical issues—delayed shipments of truffle oil, a celebrity guest demanding a private slope at dawn, and a sommelier calling in sick before a high-profile wine tasting. The list could go on. Then you must pick up the slack and make sure everything is taken care of.

The rest of the day passes quite boringly and annoyingly. Until lunchtime.

The hotel attendant outside the front tells you that the new guest chef for the holidays is here now because of flight changes. WHAT?!

You quickly finish lunch and make sure you look presentable. No bad impressions are allowed especially if you're the boss.

You stroll out to the lobby and notice a man matching his headshots standing admiring the lobby. Glad he thinks it's pretty, you hope. He's also kind of pretty. You hate to think that because he's now your employee. But then again technically there are no rules against employee relationships. You figured that people are going to date no matter what you say so why not just know upfront? Duh.

You exclaim, "Mr. Berzatto?" The man turns around, flashes a smile, and answers, "Yes, and you must be Miss L/N." You nod and say, "Welcome to the Dupont Resort. If you follow me to my office, we'll get you onboarded. Then you'll go on a tour, meet the kitchen staff, and whatever else we have planned." He nods and says, “Please call me Carmy or Chef Carmy. Mr Berzatto makes me feel old.” You laugh and reply, “Ok Chef Carmy it is.”

You go through the onboarding paperwork, take Carmy on a tour, and then another thing goes wrong. And just when things were looking up :/

Your construction teams tells you that the housing for new employees is not ready and won’t be ready until after the holidays. Luckily most of the staff for the holidays live in town so it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

As you walk with Carmy to the kitchen, he exclaims, “Miss L/N, I am truly sorry for arriving early. It was my fault for not saying anything. I shouldn’t have just not sent an email.” You stop walking, turn to face him, and say, “Carmy, truly, it’s not your fault. The construction team admitted they wouldn’t be done in time even for the arrival time you told me. It’s all okay. My plan b is offering you my spare bedroom.” He replies, “Oh no I couldn’t possibly…” You cut him off by saying, “Please take it. My family can’t visit this holiday and I’m stuck here. It’ll be nice to have a person staying there. Just promise not to kill me or rob me.” You stick your pinky out and he crosses his over it before saying, “Deal.”

You smile and resume walking to the kitchen where you introduce him to the staff. Everyone is excited to meet him.

3 weeks later …

You have a routine with Carmy now and you kind of like it a lot. Depending on who finishes work first, the other will start prepping a late night post work snack for the two of you. Then you both enjoy it while watching some tv show or movie.

Carmy is easy to talk to and nice to have around. He seems to get along with the kitchen staff and you have seen some other hotel staff drooling after him. He unfortunately did have a bit of a rough day once when the Head Chef sent him outside to smoke then he still wasn’t cooled down so she sent him to you to talk because you two were close and he needed to open up to someone. You were happy it was you. He did open up about his brother who was dead and how his staff felt like he needed to ease up on them. You could tell he truly cared for cooking and that was his passion. You were able to make him feel calmer and you spoke to the Head Chef about giving him lessons on how she manages others.

Today is the big day for you. You're speaking to a full ballroom of eager-to-learn professionals all seeking to learn about your management process/structure/tips. You are stressed. But you are also so ready for this. You've been preparing for weeks.

Carmy's POV

The Head Chef calls in everyone and exclaims, "Good afternoon chefs, all of you standing before me have joined my team within the last 3 months. I recognize that many of you may have aspirations beyond the line—perhaps leading your own team or managing a kitchen one day. While you are welcome to learn from my approach and techniques, it is equally vital that you understand the broader workings of the hospitality industry, particularly from a management perspective. With that in mind, I am assigning you to attend a professional development talk being given by Miss Y/N L/N upstairs. She will be speaking on leadership and operational management—topics essential for any culinary professional seeking growth in this field. You are expected to attend the full session, take notes, and return with a written reflection outlining three key insights you gained from the presentation. I am familiar with her content, so please do not treat this as time off—it is not. You are to return to the kitchen no later than fifteen minutes after the session concludes and submit your written reflections to me before 9:00 PM tonight. Is that understood?" Everyone nods, including me.

I can't believe I get to sit and listen to Y/N L/N talk. I like listening to her talk. I could listen to her talk for hours and hours on end. She’s so pretty and smart and perfect… and my boss.

The rest of the chefs and I head to the ballroom where we’re escorted to a table. We see notepads, pens, tea, water, and some snacks we helped prepare for the day. Our server knows most of the crowd and I recognise him. He’s always cool. As a matter of fact, this whole hotel has such cool interesting people. It’s refreshing. Even when there is tension or conflict, it’s managed and there’s a quick solution.

Y/N is introduced and she goes onstage.

What I write:

Lead by Example - Set the tone with your actions—If you want your team to respect you, model exactly what you expect.

Know Every Role, Not Just Your Own - Don’t just manage from above—get on the floor, learn the hustle. Empathy is built through experience.

Communicate Clearly and Often - Be precise, be direct, and always keep the team informed.

Stay Calm Under Pressure - Your team watches you during the rush. If you panic, they panic. If you stay steady, they will too.

Prioritize Guest Experience Without Burning Out Your Team - Guests come first—but your team gets them there. Take care of your people, and they’ll take care of the guests.

You can tell everyone in this room respects Y/N. She captivates the crowd with her words. When she’s asked questions, she responds with ease and confidence. She oozes everything a manager should be.

That night, following my shift, I head into my place...or I should say, Y/N's place. I see her drinking wine and eating cookies. She deserves it after today. I exclaim, "Save some for me. I'm going to shower quickly." She smiles and nods.

After my shower, I grab a glass of milk and sit next to her on the couch. I lightly bump her shoulder and say, "You did great today… I honestly don’t know how you make management talks… fun. It’s terrifying.” She shrugs and replies, “It’s a gift. Or a curse. I haven’t decided yet.” She offers me cookies, which I gladly take. I swear she could be a famous baker if she wanted. Her cookies are luscious treats. She leans back against the couch, letting out a slow breath, "You ever think about how weird this is? Us living together. Working together. Spending this much time together?" I smirk, tilting my head, and ask “Why, getting sick of me already?" She sets her cookies down, shakes her head, and says, “No. That’s the thing. I’m not."

Time seems to slow down. The weight of her words hits me. She is not sick of me and might actually enjoy hanging out with me. And am I reading this right? Could she maybe like me? Our eyes meet—too long, too intense for me. It feels like acknowledgment of something that’s been building for the last two weeks. All this tension.

I shifts slightly and say, “I don’t think I could get sick of you." We glance at each other and I say softly, “I… like this. Us. It’s easy.” Y/N replies, “Yeah. Too easy.”

Before either of us can process it, we are closing the gap. Lips crashing—fast, unexpected but somehow inevitable. Warm. Familiar. My hands fumble at the hem of her shirt to grab her waist to hold her to me, hers sliding into my hair to bring me closer. It tastes like cookies and a kiss with my crush. Then—just as it deepens—we both pull back. Breathing hard.

Y/N asks, “Wait—what are we doing?” I answer “I … I don’t know.” We’re both wide-eyed now—like the weight of the entire situation just slammed into us. We realize what we did is irreversible. She exclaims, “We work together. Live together. If this goes bad—“ I reply, “Yeah. It… it would wreck everything. She asks, “Should we just… pretend it didn’t happen?” I look away from her and ask, “Do you want to?” She hesitates before answering, “No…But maybe we should.”

The next morning … Y/N’s POV

You don’t usually see Carmy in the mornings. You both get up at different times. But he’s here sipping coffee at the table. You watch as he pushes his hair out of his face and you try to resist the urge to go fix it for him.

Last night, you both kissed. And it was the best damn kiss you’ve ever had. Why did you say you should forget it?

You make yourself a coffee and some breakfast before sitting at the table at your normal spot, which is right next to him. You ask, “Morning Carmy. Don’t you normally help with prep in the mornings? Why are you here? … wait that sounded rude and like I don’t want you here. I do want you here. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He scratches the back of his neck before he answers, “It’s okay. I get it. I told the Head Chef that I needed the morning off to prepare something and speak to you.” OH… um… this is concerning. You ask, “Okay, what’s up? Or would you rather we talk in my office?” He answers, “Here is better… um I spent last night reading over my contract and it actually doesn’t say anything about workplace relationships being prohibited. And as the boss, I was wondering if there were any boundaries set in place for that.” He’s reading a contract to know if he should date someone the right way. So some men are decent. You nod and reply, “Yes, um… the reason there are no rules set in place is because I figured that people are going to date no matter what you say so why not just know upfront? I do know who has hooked up with who here and who has broken up with who, but it’s fine. No one really lets it affect them.” He asks, “So the only thing to do if I want to date someone here is to tell you? Is that correct?” Date someone here? He didn’t say you. You take a deep breath and answer, “Yes. Me and or the HR lady.” He replies, “Cool. Um… would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N? I like you a lot and I want to get to know you in a relationship kind of way.” You nod and answer, “Sure. I like you too, by the way.” He smirks.

Your first date with Carmy happens two nights later. You both go into town where you have dinner at a French bistro and then gelato for dessert. You wander back to the hotel and he walks you to your bedroom door. But not before he gives you a goodbye kiss.

The next month includes lots of kissing, several dates, cuddling, and working. Unfortunately, work doesn’t pause when you want a life of your own. In fact, with it being so close to the holidays, things have just begun to ramp up… high tension leads to you having sex with Carmy and he asks you to be his girlfriend. Of course, you accept.

Comment to be added to the taglist!

ANGST is on the way.

Part two

[transcendence-au]

Hello everyone, a little update on the charm shipments!

They've not been sent out yet because my scheduled pickups never happened three times in a row but they will be sent this weekend! I know this for a fact because I will be taking them in MYSELF

The nice lady I spoke to on the phone said to expect a bit of a delay, because things are... hectic in the USA right now, to say the least. But they are a-comin! Thank you for being so patient y'all, I love ya!

[frostyhelltime]

Favorite Touches

Vox x GN!Reader

No warnings. Just fluff.

Some of Vox's favorite things you do are all related to touch.

Not just the sexual kind either.

Although he quite likes those as well.

His anger simmers down a little bit when you place your hand on his arm gently, rubbing soothing circles to help calm him as Velvette yells about another Valentino tantrum.

You do your best to relieve his annoyance before he has to deal with that problem and for just a moment there is no problem to be fixed, just the two of you there and he holds on to those moments when his head is pounding from explaining to Valentino AGAIN that he can't just murder Velvette's best models just because he's upset Angel Dust is hanging out with friends outside of the studio or whatever bullshit has him in a tizzy that day.

It doesn't soothe him enough to not yell at Val, of course. But it certainly helps make the experience more bearable.

His classic showman grin falters to become genuine but still filled with pride when you take a second to brush dust off his suit and make sure there are no wrinkles before he steps out. He knows you do it for him because he places such importance on appearances, and while you don't personally care that much...you know it's important to him so it's one of the ways you show your love.

When he's too wrapped up in his work, exhausted but with still so much to do, it revitalizes him when you take his free hand and wrap it around the fresh cup of coffee you made him, offering him a smile as day falls into night, taking your place alongside him to keep him company as he works.

When he's had an absolute shit day, with too many Valentino tantrums, some bullshit run in with Alastor, and some idiot fucking up the new shipment so a product's release date is delayed...he doesn't even have to say anything. He steps through the door and you take one look at him and just know, and before he can find the energy to speak your arms are around him, trying to give him something good to end his day on.

He feels the tension leave his shoulders as he lets out a sigh, his arms sluggishly wrapping themselves around you too. Damn, had they been this tense all day? He hadn't even noticed.

He's still tired and annoyed but all those annoyances seem so distant and so far away from him for now.

Yeah, he does very much love the more... salacious touches you grace him with, but he didn't think he would enjoy the innocent touches as much as he does.

Such a surprising delight you turned out to be.

[femenaces]

I may or may not be one of the anonymous sources in this article

Edit, the text of the article for those who can’t view it (under the cut):

Last month, the Trump administration placed a $1 spending limit on most government-issued credit cards that federal employees use to cover travel and work expenses. The impacts are already widely felt.

At the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, scientists aren’t able to order equipment used to repair ships and radars. At the Food and Drug Administration, laboratories are experiencing delays in ordering basic supplies. At the National Park Service, employees are canceling trips to oversee crucial maintenance work. And at the Department of Agriculture and the Federal Aviation Administration, employees worry that mission-critical projects could be stalled. In many cases, employees are already unable to carry out the basic functions of their job.

“The longer this disruption lasts, the more the system will break,” says a USDA official who was granted anonymity because they aren’t authorized to speak to the media about the looming crisis.

A researcher at the National Institutes of Health who tests new vaccines and treatments in rodents says he has had to put experiments on hold; his lab is not able to get certain necessary materials, such as antibodies, which are needed to assess immune response. “We have animals here that are aging that will pretty soon be too old to work with,” says the researcher, who requested anonymity as they aren’t authorized to speak publicly about the agency. Young mice and rats that are 6 to 8 weeks old are typically used for drug and vaccine studies, but some of the animals in their lab have now aged out of that window and may have to be euthanized.

They say NIH workers have been using internal listservs to ask for reagents and lab equipment from other buildings or institutions to try to compensate for shortages, but they’re not always able to track down what they need. The NIH is made up of 27 institutes and centers, and its Bethesda, Maryland, campus is spread across more than 75 buildings. “Sometimes you need something that's really niche, and you're just not going to find it from someone else on campus,” they say.

The change comes as Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency continues to hunt for alleged examples of waste across the federal government. Late last month, DOGE announced that it was working to “simplify” the government’s largest credit card program, which issues GSA SmartPay travel and purchase cards for federal employees. Last Wednesday, the agency claimed 24,000 cards had been deactivated.

The credit card program allows federal workers to bypass the typical procurement process required to buy goods and services. A 2002 report from the Department of Commerce said that, “by avoiding the formal procurement process, GSA estimates the annual savings to be $1.2 billion.” It also enables federal employees to avoid paying sales tax on expenses that the government is exempt from.

At the FDA, labs that analyze samples to ensure that food, drugs, medical devices, and cosmetics are safe and meet regulatory standards are already facing shortages. "While we are always acutely aware of when Congress’ funding is going to run out, we are able to order supplies to keep things going in the lab. This abrupt ending felt like the rug was being pulled out from under us," says an employee at the FDA who requested anonymity because they aren't authorized to speak with the media.

The employee recently placed an order for pipette tips, an essential laboratory supply, but found that order was put on hold. "Now we are running out, asking colleagues at other offices to share what they might not be using,” they told WIRED.

In addition, workers say FDA labs now have to go through a lengthy process to order liquid nitrogen, which is used to keep ultra-cold freezers running. These freezers preserve samples of cells and other biological material that reflect years, and sometimes decades, of research. Delays in getting liquid nitrogen tanks could destroy that material. Previously, new tanks could usually be acquired the same day as putting in a request. Now, it takes a week or so to receive a tank after initiating a request.

An employee at the Environmental Protection Agency says her facility is not able to place regular orders of liquid nitrogen at the moment. “We have dozens of these freezers full of important environmental samples that are imminently at risk of being lost because we can no longer get our regular shipments of liquid nitrogen,” says the employee, who requested anonymity. These samples are used as part of research on detection and remediation methods for chemicals such as PFAS, which are found in many products and break down very slowly over time.

“Scientists are being forced to jerry-rig the connection points on these freezers to accept pressures of liquid nitrogen they were not designed to handle,” the employee says. “Divisions are resorting to bartering with each other to obtain needed items.”

The FDA and EPA did not immediately respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

The credit card freeze also means that federal researchers who were working on scientific manuscripts can’t pay journal fees, meaning they can’t submit their work to certain journals for publication.

An employee at a federal forensics lab told WIRED that spending limits mean the lab is no longer able to pay to ship evidence back to agents, effectively halting its ability to do casework. Before a case goes to trial, defendants have the right to access and review evidence that the prosecution intends to use against them, which includes access to the evidence in their case. Defendants are able to send that evidence to an outside lab for analysis if they choose. “Cases can’t progress until we return the evidence,” says the forensics lab worker, who asked to remain anonymous. “I basically can’t do my job right now.”

NIH employees were told that travel cards could not be used at all for 30 days, forcing scientists to cancel plans to attend a major infectious disease conference next week. USDA employees at the Pest Identification Technology Laboratory have stockpiled reagents used for molecular tests in advance of the spending limits, according to the USDA official.

FAA employees who travel to work on and test aviation systems worry the credit card freeze will prevent them from completing their projects. “We are allowed to use our personal cards in emergencies but none of us trust them to pay us back now,” says one employee.

The impacts have hit the National Park Service as well. One employee was poised to go on a trip to oversee road maintenance at a national monument when the change went into effect on February 20. “Unless I want to pay for it myself, I can’t go. I can’t pay for my hotel, my rental car, fuel for the car. Now I can’t carry out the mission,” the employee says. “Today, instead of focusing on other work, I’m focused on three different contingencies on how to handle this. Do I go? Do I call my engineering team and tell them to reschedule? And if so, when? The project is on an indefinite hold.”

A memo written to staff at the National Park Service specified that “all travel that is NOT related to national security, public safety, or immigration enforcement should be canceled if it begins on Wednesday, February 26, through the end of March 2025.” A long-term decision on the travel policy, it said, will come “at a later date.” Some NPS staffers were able to travel in February despite not getting official clearance. They have now been told no travel will be allowed in March. To date, roughly 75 trips have been canceled or rescheduled, according to a source familiar with the situation.

The National Park Service did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

Some government employees say they were given a warning prior to the change being announced on February 20. “We went out and bought cases and cases of toilet paper the night before,” another current employee at the National Park Service says. “There’s a general acknowledgement that things are going to break.”

That employee works in the Pacific West Region, which manages federal land in California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and Nevada, as well as parks in Arizona, Montana, Guam, and American Samoa. While the GSA did allow for the possibility of exceptions to the clamp-down, the employee claims there are only four purchase cards with spending limits above $1 available for the entire region.

Some of these parks pay for services like internet and wireless on purchase cards—leaving staffers wondering if their work devices could soon be cut off. “Before someone can fix a bathroom a work order has to be issued,” the current employee explains. “That happens electronically. Like any business, we rely on email, Teams, and chat to get things done.”

The spending limits reflect Musk’s belief in zero-based budgeting. After he purchased Twitter, he slashed the budget to zero and forced employees to justify every expense. He also froze people’s corporate credit cards.

“With the Twitter pausing of payments, at some point we were in a meeting at 1 am on a Saturday, and it was like, ‘Hey, let's turn the credit cards off to see what bounces, and what happens,’" explained angel investor Jason Calacanis on the All In podcast in February. (Calacanis was part of Musk’s transition team at Twitter.) “And of course, we started getting calls ... The people who come first, they're probably the ones who are in on the biggest grift.”

Employees see it a different way. “There are so many controls in place to make sure fraud doesn’t happen,” alleges the current NPS staffer. “I honestly believe the only fraud occurring is being committed by Musk, [Russell] Vought, and [Donald] Trump.”

[drdemonprince]

Keep Unnecessary Meetings to a Minimum 

“Don’t attend unnecessary meetings,” advises Jersey, an Autistic activist in the San Francisco Bay Area. 

Jersey has been on the front lines of numerous pro-Palestinian actions in the past several months, serving as a medic during the #BlocktheBoat action to delay the shipment of munitions to Israel, shutting down the Oakland Federal Building, and blocking the Bay Bridge, an action for which he was arrested and charged with false imprisonment (among other laughable charges) by the San Franciso District Attorney. Since the siege on Gaza began in October of last year, Jersey has been living and breathing for the Palestinian cause. Yet even he has limits. 

“Tell [fellow organizers] that your capacity for meeting, especially in real life, is low,” he says. Instead of having to speak at length with organizers about your interest in getting involved, see if you can articulate your own role within the movement. That way, you won’t have to be “managed” as much. 

“For example, if you’re a photographer, tell people that and then demonstrate that you can show up relatively independently, take great photos, and then show them with the group,” he says. Once you have proven yourself to be reliable and competent, you can skip meetings without facing as much criticism. 

Many organizing spaces are oriented around neuro-conformist standards of what socializing and planning for an event must look like. Non-Autistic people generally process new information socially as part of an ongoing dialogue, whereas many Autistics prefer receiving all the relevant facts in a single, linear document they can read and process on their own. Many activists also enter a movement with intense emotional needs, and wish for others to bear witness to their suffering and share how they are feeling too. This means that those of us who find socializing and emotional processing to be draining will have to advocate for ourselves. 

“We can remind organizations to be intentional about what does and does not have to be a meeting,” says Aeryn, another organizer. “Sometimes all you really need is an online survey, a memo, or a thread where people can ask questions online.” 

If you can, tell meeting organizers that you are unavailable to meet often, but that you will listen to meeting recordings or read the agenda on your own time, and then communicate through email or private message to indicate that you have. Depending on how much you trust an organization and its leadership, you can either explain directly that you cannot process information in real-time easily because of your disability, or you can simply say you’re busy with school, work, or family obligations. 

Operating independently may require being strategic in the roles you take on within an organization. Jersey says: “If you’ve never done security but want to do security, you will have to do a lot of training and meeting with people. But if you’re already a trained medic and have some type of credential… you can probably just tap into a medic chat and sign up for events as they arise.” This, in fact, is what he’s done. 

Of course, it will be sometimes be necessary to get to know other members of your organization of choice, express your own perspectives to the group, and receive updates through some form of meeting. However, there are still many accommodations you can request to make those meetings more accessible: 

Push for Accessible Meetings

When an activist movement is new or its resources are limited, its meetings may tend to be urgent, somewhat disorganized affairs, rife with lots of thinking out loud and amorphous brainstorming and possessing little in the way of an agenda. 

Autistic people typically find it very hard to contribute to such meetings, because the flow of conversation is unpredictable and confusing, and most of us struggle with knowing when it’s appropriate to jump in and offer a comment. The constant flux in conversation topics is exhausting for us to keep up with, as are all the social and emotional undercurrents bubbling beneath what’s actually being said. 

After the meeting is over, we may have almost no recollection of what was shared, because we were putting so much energy into masking and wearing our “listening faces.” Critiques and questions may occur to us hours after the discussion has ended, after we’ve had some time alone to digest and reflect. Even if we are physically present within a space, we are pervasively excluded when meetings are conducted in such an unstructured, overwhelming way. 

Thankfully, all of this can be avoided. Here are some of the accommodations that organizing meetings should provide in order to maximize their accessibility — not just for the sake of Autistics, but for anyone who struggles to process verbal information quickly and form their own immediate verbal responses to it on the fly: 

The full essay and toolkit of resources is free to read (or have narrated to you!) at drdevonprice.substack.com

[bekkathyst]

So the month of March is essentially going to decide if we can keep the shop open or not.

I have my extremely delayed shipment of crystals finally getting here - I believe next week. We will be adjusting our shipping policy (people who already have an open box sitting here don’t worry - your current box will follow the old rules, but then any box you open after will go by the new rules). This will help us accommodate for the Austrian post raising their prices so much on us.

And then toward the end of the month, I’ll be releasing this jewelry collection I’ve been working on. I deeply hope it isn’t my last collection ever, but just in case, I really am pouring my heart and soul into it.

And of course I have my prints and journals available in the shop! No one has bought any yet, but I’m still planning to release more designs this weekend. They’re fine to sit in the shop for however long since they print on demand anyway.

As long as we’re able to come out of the negative and are able to pay our rent and bills again this month, we’ll be able to keep the shop open.

If not, we will be saying goodbye. I wish I could keep working at it until we recover, but I have to be careful since a certain income is required by the government to keep my husband’s residency here. I don’t want to mess around with that.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask here or in an ask. I truly hope things can turn around because I am really not ready to say goodbye to a career I’ve been building for 11 years. ❤️

Oh and of course the custom wire wraps are still on track to ship at the end of this month! I don’t want anyone to think I’ve forgotten, they’re also in the works and almost done now.

[boredzillenial]

Delisssious

Authors note : just a silly lil text fic between Anselm and you because why not inspired by this silly lil gif. But seriously why is he hot wtf

Theme: flirty, sexting with this weirdo below

Hello

Yes?

Are you around here somewhere?

I’m on the grounds, what do you need sir?

So formal. Has the grocery shipment delivered yet? I’m feeling peckish

Truck was delayed. Those responsible have been dealt with.

Good good

….

I have another question, about last night.

Sir, we really shouldn’t discuss that over text.

I’m aware. But I do believe I can discuss what I want, where I want, in whatever manner I want

Affirmative 👍

Don’t get sassy with emoticons. I was going to say last night was astonishing.

Thank you?

Who knew you were so flexible my dear

Please don’t

Or so dexterous

Call Denied

Answer your phone

So bossy. I’m in the middle of a meeting

You’re in a meeting sexting me?

I do believe sexting involves photographs

Sometimes - shouldn’t you be paying attention to the presentation?

Photo recieved

Anselm I really don’t think having your cock out under your desk is a good idea

I was just teasing I’m not in a meeting

Video received

However I am in need of your assistance my darling.

Is a video of you stroking yourself in your empty office necessary?

I’m showing my need for you 🌽 Did you watch with the volume on?

No - your incorrigible. Why corn?

I was told it’s an innuendo, watch again with the sound

I think you meant 🍆

Is that my yogurt on the desk?

Either way my point was made. I told you I was peckish

You owe me

I intend to repay you as soon as you come to my office 👅

————————

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar @queerponcho @for-a-longlongtime @silvernight-m