#station inspector imagines

[bound-up-feelings]

Station Inspector

Station Inspector: The Regular

Station Inspector: Unexpected Meeting

Station Inspector: First Time

Station Inspector: Fooled

[sorryimananti-romantic]

The Leaders | Chapter V

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of shooting, war/military and drugs, wholesome maknaes interactions, san is a little flirty, hongjoong's subtle attempt to woo you, seonghwa's failed attempt, and yunho's very successful attempt! kissing.

chapter wc: 10.5k

chapter synopsis: you accompany hongjoong to his meeting with assemblyman wi, where you direct him to investigate secretary park with the keyword of ‘strictland’. while you recover from the meeting with san, yeosang learns that you are not the rv spies’ target. rather, you are being protected from a threat they refuse to reveal. you practise shooting with the warehouse boys but learn of a bet placed on your shooting skills and you go to confirm the culprit, yunho. things take an unexpected, intimate turn.

prev chapter recap: you accompany hongjoong to the station and he tells you about his past connection with general wi. you point inspector gong to secretary park’s direction and suggest using general wi. afterwards, you accompany hongjoong to lunch with san and yeosang where yeosang confirms if the actions of that drunken night did mean something. seonghwa prepares you to become secretary and you’re doubtful but hongjoong assures that you’re fit for the job. you go to meet the warehouse boys with seonghwa and learn about the illegal weapons manufacturing. on your way to practise shooting with the boys, you get attacked by secretary park’s men which leaves you questioning if staying with the crescents is worth the danger you bring with yourself. the boys assure you that you don’t have to worry about a thing because they have your back now. the night ends on a suggestive note with yunho.

Fate was a strange thing. 

Never did you think you would find yourself working for the biggest criminal organisation turned business. When you first got a job at the Crescent Bar, you were convinced that it had to be fate that led you here– these things were not in your control. You had been pushed around, going from place to place until you found yourself at the bar. 

However… it must be the hands of destiny that personally guided you to the Crescent Office to work alongside the bosses. Destiny must have whispered in your ears, a hand on your back to keep you steady. You finally felt as if you were at the right place and were doing the right thing after a whole life of unease and struggle. 

Not that the struggle or unease had gotten any easier– just that its nature had shifted into something that was familiar to you, like the game of chess you used to play with Secretary Park back when you lived together. He didn’t teach you how to play– he taught you how to win. There was a big difference between the two. He said that life was easier when you could splay the elements out on an imaginative chessboard and make a move accordingly. It was something that stuck with you.

It was also probably why your input regarding Assemblyman General Wi was being taken into consideration after you made your moves and cornered him. Assemblyman Wi was suspecting that the Crescents were trying to involve him in something darker than he initially thought. Hongjoong didn’t give him much in their phone call conversation that took place after Inspector Gong involved him in the drug investigation. Hongjoong only shared how valuable his information could be to his political career and the Assemblyman seemed to have caught the bait. 

He requested a personal meeting, and the boss was still adamant that you accompany him. After all, you were ‘his little secretary’ now. His assistant, a part of the inner circle, whatever label you wished to give it. The boys were doing their best to make you adjust to your new position. You were more involved in the business now, overseeing both the legal and the illegal side with Seonghwa. 

At the end of your night shift, you and Yunho would wrap things up before closing the office. Sometimes, he would walk you home under the pretence of discussing work. He always listened intently and responded well to your worries. Most of the time, it was clear that he was just using that opportunity to simply talk with you and get to know you better. 

Whatever it was, you weren’t one to complain– you were starting to get used to this little routine and if you were honest with yourself and your feelings for once, you would admit that you quite liked this. You quite liked him. It was hard not to warm up to him. 

Especially when he relaxed and let his work persona behind at the office. It was unbelievable that this was the same person whose presence had overwhelmed you an incredible amount before you joined the office– not that he wasn’t scary and overwhelming when he wanted to be. It was just that you understood his role as the consigliere of this business and how he had to maintain an image. 

Despite all of that, he made you feel safe now. You were starting to view Jeong Yunho in a new light and see him for who he really was as a person, not just as a Crescent.

He was still a bit reserved and for all the right reasons. You supposed as the consigliere, he must still have his qualms about you. He wouldn’t be good at his job if not. As far as work was concerned, he never indulged you in something new, only discussing the things you had already gone over with Seonghwa and Hongjoong. 

As did Seonghwa, though you didn’t even need to talk for him to hear you. It was a bit surreal how he had you all figured out. You would take a second to think something over and he would know that you were harbouring doubts. You would look at him a certain way and he would understand that you needed some assuring that everything would work out smoothly. 

And these were just his words– his touch provided you with a level of comfort you didn’t know was possible through just a simple brush of fingers against yours or a tap to your shoulder. You weren’t sure he realised what effect he had on you. It would be better if he didn’t.

And the boss… well. 

“I said what I said. You’re accompanying me to the meeting, whether you like it or not.”

You were back at square one with the argument concerning a certain politician.

“He’s Assemblyman Wi Ha Jun,” you almost sobbed. “You may know him from war as a Major General but I know him as a scary politician who has a knack for getting rid of people and burying all evidence.”

“He can’t touch you and you know that, Luna,” Hongjoong plopped on his chair and clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “I thought you realised that by now.”

“I know,” you sighed deeply. “But you have to understand that knowing that changes nothing. I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake and say too much.”

“You won’t,” he assured you, suppressing a laugh. “Wasn’t I the scary boss once?”

“You still are?” You shrugged. “You’re taking me to the meeting at gunpoint. It can’t get any scarier than this.”

You both looked at the revolver that was previously lying still on the table but was now being carelessly spun between his fingers. He finally let out a dark cackle, tossing the revolver almost casually on top of the documents yet still making you flinch.

“Wish I could shoot some sense into you. And maybe a little self-confidence,” Hongjoong commented.

“Wish I could muster the self-confidence I had when I traded my life for secrets,” you retorted and he laughed in a low manner, still waiting for a response. You let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll accompany you– on one condition.”

Hongjoong raised a brow. “You seem to forget that I’m the boss and you’re in no position to make such demands, but okay, carry on.”

You clutched your chest, feigning hurt. “I thought I was part of your ‘inner circle’ or whatever. Clearly not. Anyways, I would prefer it if I’m just introduced as Luna and not Jeon y/n. In fact, I think I’d like to keep going with Luna in the future too.”

That was how it was with the boss. An endless battle of retorts and jabs but it was mostly unserious, even though to an observer it would look like a quarrel. Perhaps, that was just what your dynamic had to be, and it wasn’t bad. You could really speak your mind when you were with him and that was saying something. He had a knack for making people open up and be honest with him.

Hongjoong passed you a challenging look but decided to ignore the jab. “Alright. We’ll try to keep your identity a secret for as long as possible, but you can’t blame us if he finds out anyway. He has quite the network himself.”

“Deal,” you nodded grimly, preparing yourself mentally for the meeting that was scheduled in two hours at the Crescent Bar right before your night shift. 

While you both worked in your respective spaces– him in his office, alone, and you outside at your usual spot, you noticed a familiar name while checking tomorrow’s schedule.

Seonghwa was meeting with a person called ‘Winter’. You thought you had heard the name before but you couldn’t recall where. You made a mental note to get a peek at the person when she would visit. Maybe her face would rock your memory.

Just as you were wrapping up and taking a break to freshen up (which included taking a walk around the block and gathering your wits for the meeting), Seonghwa arrived upstairs and noticed how you were so distracted cracking your knuckles that you didn’t hear him until he was right in front of your desk. 

“Nervous?” He asked.

“Very,” you admitted. No point hiding it because you weren’t good at that anyway, and the worst in front of him. “But it’s okay. I’m probably making it a big deal because it feels like I’m back to the Edenary days when my father was trying to make sure I wouldn’t come across these influential figures. Now the boss is trying to make sure I’m present.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “You understand why though, don’t you?”

“I do,” you smiled, holding the daily report in the air. Seonghwa motioned for you to follow him and you went to unlock his office, getting inside with him. 

“You don’t need to present it– I’ll take a look later,” Seonghwa said and you nodded, relieved. You set the report on the table then, standing awkwardly and pursing your lips. “Would you like some chamomile tea?”

“Thank you, but I’m okay. It looks like we’ll be drinking, so,” you shrugged. Seonghwa was taking off his coat and hanging it on the hatstand. It looked like he had more to say so you waited for him, his presence slowly washing a wave of calmness over you. 

And it seemed like he was aware of that because he stepped in front of you, this time a little closer. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, caressing your collarbones with the pad of his thumbs, separated by the black net that made the neckline of your dress. 

“You’ll do alright, Luna. You don’t have to worry too much. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. Besides, Hongjoong will be there with you. You can count on him.”

“I know. It’s just a bit daunting, but that’s just nerves. Thank you, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa nodded and patted your head once before drawing away. “Are you okay?”

“Nervous? Yes–”

“No, I mean, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, scanning your face with concentration. “With everything that’s been going on with Secretary Park, and now this meeting… You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t wish to. You know that, right?”

This was what was so special about Park Seonghwa and why the rest of the Crescents always leaned on him. You felt your heart swoop anxiously but you nodded, mustering a steel gaze. 

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just something that’s bound to happen one day or another.”

Seonghwa wasn’t satisfied with your answer though, and that was obvious by the warning look on his face. You let out a short laugh. “Really, thank you for asking, Mr. Park. You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m not,” he shook his head in amusement. 

“Yeah. You’re just kind to everyone in general, I know that,” you said. “I should be leaving now. Have a good rest of the night, Mr. Park.”

Just when you were about to exit, Seonghwa’s voice called. “Do you really think I’m kind to just anybody?”

You turned to look at him, hand on the door knob. He was right– he wasn’t kind to just anybody. He hadn’t been kind to you when you first met. 

“Are you claiming that I’m someone special to you?” You asked teasingly but when he nodded in all seriousness, you froze for just a moment. And then you took a deep breath, nodding. 

“Thank you for letting me know that I’m someone you care about now.”

Seonghwa looked just a little disappointed to hear that, but he remained silent. You shut the door behind you, pausing to process what he had said.

It was confusing you. Seonghwa’s kindness, Yunho’s antics, and whatever the hell was going on between you and Yeosang. And whatever the hell Wooyoung had said about them. You wished you could ask them but it wasn’t your place to. And you weren’t sure what they really wanted from you. If it was merely information, they could have very well tortured it out of you if they wished to.

So you went towards the Captain’s room– the one person you could be honest with, and the one person who was honest with you, no matter how ugly or bitter the truth might sound. You were just boss and secretary. He didn’t talk in circles like the rest.

“Ready?” He asked, grabbing his coat and cane from the corner.

“Ready,” you nodded and he came to stand in front of you, scanning you once.

“Do you have your gun with you?” He asked and you blinked in surprise but nodded. Hongjoong’s eyes went to the purse resting on your hip, hanging by your shoulder. “I hope you won’t have to use it, but we can never be too cautious. You know how susceptible the bar is to attacks.”

“I really need to learn how to properly use it though,” you admitted, about to open the door for him so you both could leave but he held his hand in the air, pausing you. He produced a narrow box out of the pocket of his coat and opened it, revealing an intricately carved silver cuff bracelet with an infinity sign at the clasp. 

Your mouth curved into an ‘o’ in surprise when you saw the brand– Maddox and Co. The famous jewellery shop in Sector 1. Its diamonds were a staple of Eden and people from all over the continent would visit Eden just to shop there.

He smirked at your expressions. “Like it?”

“So you plan to woo General Wi with… this?” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, waiting for you to give you his hand and when you did, albeit hesitantly, he shot you a disapproving look though you knew he was just teasing you. He helped you wear it on your left wrist and you admired the way it rested there.

“Just a little something for your… promotion, you could say.”

“Is this really for me?” You asked in disbelief and he nodded. “Shall I return it after the meeting?”

“Luna,” Hongjoong groaned, tossing the box on the sofa.

“Do you give out gifts to all your employees who get promoted?” You continued with the questions and Hongjoong chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“Think of it as a bribe,” he said, chuckling at your expressions because you were annoyed that he was teasing you. “Let’s go, we’re getting late.”

“But–” you started, faltering when he left the room. You glanced at the cuff before following him, rushing to match his pace as he descended down the stairs. Even during the short car ride, you kept sending pleading looks in his direction in between admiring the beautiful jewellery. He continued to ignore you but you silently promised him that you would wring the answers out of him. 

Taeyong opened the door for you and led the way inside the bar, making sure everything was okay and having a word with General Wi’s men who were stationed outside Room no. 1 where the Crescents usually conducted their meetings. You looked around, relaxing a bit when you spotted Yeosang making his way towards the two of you.

“Just on time,” Yeosang patted your back. His hand stayed there for just a moment longer before he moved between you and Hongjoong to open the door. “San was keeping him company.”

“Let me know if you hear something, and have San signal me if anything seems amiss,” Hongjoong instructed and Yeosang nodded before knocking and opening the door.

“Ah, here comes the Captain,” San clapped before he got up. You couldn’t see the Assemblyman properly yet but he got up and Hongjoong straightened, saluting. Assemblyman General Wi saluted back before the two shared a warm handshake, exchanging greetings.

Assemblyman Wi caught you looking at him with curiosity and he thought that you looked familiar, though he couldn’t quite remember how. Hongjoong extended his hand towards you, prompting you to come forward to greet his superior and you shook hands.

“This is Luna. Currently my assistant and partner.”

“How do you do?” Assemblyman Wi asked, urging you to take a seat and you sat next to Hongjoong. The Assemblyman looked at Hongjoong. “Currently?”

“I’m trying to make her a Leader,” Hongjoong admitted and you slowly turned towards the boss. 

A Leader? 

“That’s the first I’m hearing of it, by the way,” you told the Assemblyman the truth and he laughed. Hongjoong sent an approving look in your direction. “I heard that you were Mr. Kim’s boss in the army. I’ve heard only the highest praise about you.”

“Oh, he likes me too much,” Assemblyman Wi waved his hand in dismissal, crossing his legs. Hongjoong poured him a drink and filled your glass as well. The burgundy colour of the liquid matched with the colour of his tie over the grey three-piece suit that the Assemblyman wore. 

“Did he tell you about our first meeting? I was sure we were going to be sworn enemies, Hongjoong and I– even though I was his superior.”

You looked at Hongjoong with a raised brow and he shook his head in amusement. “It wasn’t that serious, General.”

“Yeah, you only thought I was an incompetent asshole who was incapable of making decisions. Nothing serious,” Assemblyman Wi laughed and you pursed your lips to stifle a smile. “He had the audacity to say that out loud. Didn’t end up well for him.”

“Yeah, it didn’t, because we’re here now,” Hongjoong scoffed and the Assemblyman grinned. “How’s business?”

“Booming,” he said. “Especially after I got the Textile Export Amendment Bill passed in the parliament recently.”

“Ah, so you’re allowed to resume trade now?”

“With lower taxes, yes,” General Wi confirmed.

“I guess being a presidential candidate certainly has its pros,” Hongjoong concluded, raising his glass. The sound of clinks momentarily filled the room as you all drank. “And how’s politics going for you?”

Assemblyman Wi looked at his military subordinate for a moment too long. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Hongjoong leaned back into the sofa with the familiarity of someone who had played this game too many times. You, though, sat straight in your seat, eyes fixated on the two and your hand busy fiddling with the cuff around your wrist.

“You must have asked to meet me for a reason,” Hongjoong clasped his hands together. “Coming here all the way from Edenary must have been tiring.”

The Assemblyman scoffed loudly. “You got my boys landed in the nick, you know?”

Hongjoong hummed, feigning ignorance. “I don’t keep tabs on every person in this Sector, General.”

“But you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Assemblyman Wi said, unbothered by that fact probably because he kept tabs on the Crescents too. “You led me here, didn’t you?”

“If you want your boys out, you just have to ask,” Hongjoong assured him and the Assemblyman leaned back to extract a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering the two of you some. Both of you denied. He lit one, looking back and forth between you two while he smoked.

“I can get them out myself, but that’s not why I’m here,” Assemblyman Wi leaned forward, resting his arm on the table. “The drug my boys were smoking this time was new– I’m unable to trace the dealer which is why I’m sure it’s you, but the drugs are a byproduct of Park Pharmas.”

“Quite the opportunity for you then, isn’t it, Assemblyman Wi?” Hongjoong smiled and the man smirked in answer. He couldn’t deny that it was. “Maybe you should look into Park Pharmaceuticals after all.”

“I’m always looking into Park Pharmas. Secretary Park acts as a shield to President Lee and you know that I need to take him down to win the elections.”

Whoa, you thought. He was pretty confident in himself. You supposed that was not a bad trait and he needed that in order to take the presidential title one day. Hongjoong looked at you and you cleared your throat.

“You can trace the drugs back to Park Sunghoon– the Secretary’s son,” you told him and he raised his brow in surprise.

“He seems like a distinguished gentleman,” General Wi commented, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Yeah, well, apparently the distinguished can’t resist a little smoke,” you shook your head. “Once you get to Park Sunghoon, you don’t have to expose him right away– I suggest using him as bait to get some answers out of Secretary Park.”

“Answers to what?”

“You’d know when you get there,” you told him and he looked at Hongjoong who nodded. “Maybe pass a keyword around for your boys– Strictland.”

“Strictland?” Assemblyman Wi frowned. “What’s that dump of land got to do with any of this?”

“That’s for you to find out,” Hongjoong answered, nodding at you. “Just make sure that nobody traces this tip back to us.”

“I don’t like this,” Assemblyman Wi settled back in resignation. “I could have traced that source to Secretary Park anyway. I would have made up something. What do you want in return?”

“We only want to hear what you hear,” Hongjoong insisted. “Information. That’s it.”

“And what makes you think I’ll agree to share that information with you? Must be pretty valuable if you’re not directly investigating.”

Hongjoong smiled in answer and Assemblyman Wi looked at you, finding you pointing at the antique porcelain vase that had saved your life that night and got you involved in this dark web with the Crescents. The vase from his money laundering hustles. It took a moment for the Assemblyman to realise what was going on but when you spotted a flush creep up his neck, you knew that you got him.

Assemblyman Wi let Hongjoong refill his glass and he downed it in one gulp, chuckling afterwards. He looked at you with interest and you suddenly felt nervous but you matched his gaze.

“Now where did he find you? Who are you?”

“She’s just my secretary,” Hongjoong shrugged jokingly.

“She’s full of information, isn’t she? Look at her eyes,” Assemblyman Wi said, addressing Hongjoong. “You saw the potential, huh?” 

You had a feeling that they weren’t talking about your capabilities anymore and you started to feel a bitter taste on your tongue but Hongjoong, whether intentionally or unintentionally, let his hand fall to the side, brushing yours in the process. He didn’t move his hand.

“Looks like someone’s secretary hasn’t been doing a good job,” Hongjoong commented.

“Yeah, I might look for a replacement soon,” Assemblyman Wi smiled at you.

“She’s my secretary. I’m sure you can find plenty of options in Edenary. Maybe you can steal the President’s secretary.” Hongjoong said, referring to your father.

Assemblyman Wi laughed, shaking his head. “That man isn’t someone I can tame. I wonder why he didn’t run for presidency himself– he doesn’t need to be the president’s mere lackey.”

You didn’t miss how Hongjoong’s finger had momentarily curled against yours when he announced that you were his. His secretary. Before your mind could go elsewhere, though, Assemblyman Wi’s observation piqued your interest.

If someone of Assemblyman General Wi’s status thought that Secretary Park was potential presidential candidate material… why did your father never pursue it? He was an ambitious man, but he always seemed to be held back, sticking alongside the president and remaining in the shadows most of the time. Did he not desire that post, or did President Lee have something over him, something that bound them?

The rest of the small talk went by but you were too distracted with the ghost of the boss’ fingertips around yours. You had not expected him to provide you with moral support like this, if it could be called that. Somehow, even the mere thought of it was strangely comforting. 

Assemblyman Wi left with a promise to share whatever information he would come upon if you shared more about President Lee and Secretary Park in case you heard something amiss in the underground network. As soon as his figure disappeared, you slumped back on the seat, a wave of relief washing over you.

“Good job today, Luna,” Hongjoong patted your hand. “Really got him speechless without uttering a word. Impressive.”

“Yeah, I knew I was going to do that the moment we stepped in this room,” you laughed, massaging your temples. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Hongjoong asked nonchalantly, popping a few nuts in his mouth before checking the time. You only smiled in answer.

San and Yeosang entered the room after making sure the Assemblyman was gone and San clapped for you. “You did well.”

“Ah, you’re there,” Yeosang jumped a little when he spotted you and you supposed you were blending in pretty well with the seat right now. “Almost missed you.”

“How did it go?” San asked Hongjoong.

“Well. She’ll explain. I have to go back now. Get her to eat something– she looks pale.” Hongjoong ordered.

“Geez, thanks,” you slumped down even further and the boys snickered. Hongjoong left with a goodbye and the boys ordered some food for you. You admitted that now that the meeting was done with, your appetite was returning. You had been too nervous to eat properly the entire day.

Yeosang kept you company until the food arrived. You had just finished briefing the two on the meeting with General Wi– you told them that it looked like he really was going to start investigating the connection between Secretary Park and Strictland. Yeosang praised you for doing a good job and told you that he would catch up with you later, leaving to attend to business. 

That left San, and you smiled at the man who had once been your boss but was now the closest thing to a friend that you had in the Crescents. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Just you and me? Yeah,” San said, passing you the sandwiches that were on today’s menu and for some reason, your heart did a little flip at his words. “So, how has it been at the office?”

“Well, I heard something funny,” you folded a napkin, dabbing at your mouth. “The boss told me that someone speaks very highly of me.”

“Oh? Who might that be?” San pretended to think but laughed in submission when you glared at him. “Yeah, well. Didn’t that work out for the better. You’ve warmed up to us quite a lot.”

You had to agree. Everything had changed. It was getting harder to recall a time when you were scared and concealed your identity from them, but now it served as a weapon and you were able to stand beside them, though you could still argue that you were better left in the background. “It’s hard not to.”

San smiled. “What do you think about the boss?”

“He’s… definitely something,” you let out a laugh. “He’s extraordinary, San. I see why he's called the Captain.”

“Oh, where did you hear that?” San leaned forward in curiosity.

“Jaemin,” you said and he shook his head. “It suits him. I’m really starting to admire him. I’m seeing you Crescents in a new light.”

“What do you really think of us, though?” San narrowed his eyes.

“That you’re all too much,” you whispered teasingly, taking a deep sigh. “You all are… too much.”

San was aware of why you might be feeling like that. “You’re not thinking of something stupid like how you shouldn’t be here right now, are you?” You gave him a look and he continued. “You belong here. With us. Do you feel that?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “Sometimes I think I’m being led to the altar–”

“We would never do that to you–”

“Not you,” you interrupted, calming him down. “It’s not you. I feel like we’re getting involved in something dangerous, and now that I’m here, I want to be able to protect you instead of leading you to the said danger. While I’m relieved that Assemblyman Wi will be doing the dirty work for us, it’s only a matter of time before things blow up.”

“Well, it’s not our first time dealing with something like this, so rest assured, you can count on us to control the damage.”

“I have a feeling that this Strictland business is beyond anything you could have imagined.”

San knew that you were right and that this was a possibility. He had discussed it with the boys and they were already taking appropriate measures by making new allies and setting traps in case things went south. 

“It’ll be okay, Luna,” San assured you. “If anything seems off, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Thank you,” you gave him an earnest smile. “How have you been? Still whining about the workload?”

And that sparked a heated argument as you both compared your workload with a newfound competitive streak in you. The conversation shifted to San updating you on the recent gossip he’d heard at the bar, some of which you verified as credible. You finished your lunch while he talked and you checked the time.

“Well, it was wonderful catching up with you but I need to get some rest before I have to go to work again. Maybe you should have warned me about the long hours before I signed up to be Mr. Kim’s secretary.”

“Oops,” San grinned. “Do you like where you are now?”

You smiled at his question. He had asked you the same thing that drunken night at the bar when you had opened up to him– a little too much than you should have, though you didn’t regret it. “I do. I like them– the boss, Mr. Park… Yunho.”

San smiled knowingly at the way you called the consigliere’s name. “I told you– Yunho is the best person you can have by your side.”

“Yeah, well, it took us a lot of trial and error to get here, but we’re good,” you told him. “I met the warehouse boys formally too– I’m seeing them more often now that I’m accompanying the boss around.”

“Do you like them?”

“I mean… it’s Wooyoung. You can’t not like him,” you said and he laughed out loud. “He won’t allow that, and I honestly appreciate that he’s so laid-back while sharp at the same time. Mingi and Jongho are easy to talk to too. It’s a good thing I was already familiar with them from all their visits here at the bar.”

“Yeah, they’re quite excited to have you be a part of our gang. Won’t shut up about you,” he scoffed and you laughed. You picked your purse and then paused when you recalled that you needed to tell San something. You turned to him, finding him watching you with an indecipherable look in his eyes– not the mellow gaze that you were used to, though he quickly shifted his demeanour when you stepped in his vision.

“I wanted to thank you for that night, when we were both drunk,” you began and he frowned in confusion. “What you said about the others really helped me open up to them. It was a bit daunting, but I confronted the boss and told him about Secretary Park. He was quick to find out the rest by himself, but… thank you.”

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for,” San shook his head. “I know you would have made the same decision anyway.” 

“But you did have a little influence on my decision, and it’s because… I think I trust you,” you said and his brows rose in surprise. “I took a leap of faith in you when I told the boss not to make the deal with Park Pharmas. So the credit really belongs to you. You’ve all been grateful that I gave you that information at the right time, but the credit… it’s yours.”

“No,” San wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head adamantly. “It’s all you, darling.”

“Gosh, you’re stubborn,” you commented and he finally smiled. He stepped closer to pat your cheek, surprising you because he hadn’t ever initiated physical contact like this. 

“You’re doing a great job. I hope you can trust all of us one day, with all your heart. We have a lot to offer, Luna.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, not oblivious to the underlying words within that sentence. 

“You’ll know,” San said, letting go of you but you blocked his way before he could move.

“What’s with all of you and your ambiguous statements?” You frowned. “Just when I think we’re getting somewhere, one of you says something suggestive and gets me all confused–”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” San chuckled, tapping your forehead with a finger. “Let it rest.”

“San,” you warned but he only laughed, making you smile. He licked his lips and pursed them– a nervous habit of his. You narrowed your eyes just a fraction, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he cupped your face and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, lingering there just a moment.

“Let it rest.”

“Choi San!” you pushed him away and the two of you exited the room while trying to dodge the other’s swatting, laughter echoing in the corridor. Yeosang peeked from the window of his office, smiling fondly at the sight of you both.

And then he turned to the guest in his room– Wendy.

“I don’t usually let my personal feelings interfere with business,” Wendy commented when Yeosang turned his attention back to her. “But I must say… I worry for y/n’s wellbeing.”

“Do you think we would harm her?” Yeosang asked rather nonchalantly. “Come on, Wendy. We’ve known each other for years– I expected better.”

“You have no reason to harm her right now, but she’s involved with your gang now. You don’t know everything about her. I fear you won’t take it well when you find out more.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeosang gave her a suspicious look but Wendy only crossed her legs, downing the whiskey in one gulp.

“I know you lot have your morals,” Wendy acknowledged. “But she’s become my friend and I wish I had done more so she wouldn’t get so involved with you.”

“Rich coming from you when you’re a member of the most notorious spy network in the continent,” Yeosang raised a brow in challenge. “At least I’m not an assassin. And what do you mean friend? You don’t keep friends, Wendy.”

Wendy smiled. She was proud of being one of the leaders of the RV spies and their contribution to the stability in the continent was… questionable, to say the least. They served no one– not a person, not their homeland. They simply sold information to the highest bidder or exchanged their services for other favours. While their identities were known to some of the organisations who were also a part of the underground network, such as Ateez, the RV spies were still a mystery to anyone who tried to find them. You could not contact them– they would contact you if you needed them. 

“I’m human, Mr. Kang. Everyone needs friends,” Wendy looked down at her empty glass, her short brown hair covering most of her face. 

“Yeah? And you just so happened to find Luna to share the shabby apartment with. Pure chance, huh? Is that your disguise for your new target?”

“What do you care if she’s my target?” Wendy cocked her head, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to kill her. I’m only keeping her close because she knows too much and that information should not be in the wrong hands.”

Yeosang folded the cuffs of his black shirt, leaning in to lock eyes with the spy. “You must know everything then.”

To his surprise, Wendy shook her head. “I’ve been trying to get it out of her– if we kill her, we’ll be doomed.”

Yeosang almost felt pleased to hear that but then he realised that Wendy did not mean that they were threatened by the Crescents. “Doomed?”

“You can’t get that information out of me, don’t even think about it,” Wendy scoffed. “I’ve given you enough already, for old times’ sake. Give the Captain our greetings and tell him that he does not need to worry about us– not when it concerns Luna. We’re protecting her, Yeosang.”

“From who?” Yeosang frowned. “Secretary Park?”

Wendy laughed mockingly and that was enough for him. “You can stop keeping tabs on us. We’re with you on this one.”

With that, she left the room and the fading clicks of her heels left dread creeping up on Yeosang as he settled back on his seat.

Secretary Park was not the real threat. Whatever information Luna possessed was dangerous enough for the RV spies to protect her without her knowledge. Yeosang felt the hair on the back of his neck rise– he had never heard of the RV spies protecting someone instead of hunting them down. Were they protecting the information for their own sake or for the sake of the stability of the continent? He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the latter because all their leads so far led to Strictland. But there was another question nagging at him.

If Secretary Park was not the real threat, why was he trying to kill his own daughter? How was Secretary Park not the real threat when he tried to kill Luna?

San entered the room, ready to take over Yeosang’s work while he took a break, looking at him worriedly when he saw him with a deep frown. San slid on top of the desk in front of him, fixing his hair for him but Yeosang did not respond, which was strange.

“You okay? How did the meeting go?”

Yeosang rested his head against the back of the chair, zoning out while he looked at San. San waited patiently for his partner to gather his thoughts, straightening when his brows scrunched in concentration.

“Schedule a meeting with the boys. We’ve got a serious problem– and make sure Luna does not hear about this meeting.” 

“That’s it. Keep your arm straight, just like that– shoot!”

You pulled the trigger, the recoil making you flinch visibly. The bang of the bullet sounded loudly inside you as it left the gun even though you were wearing earmuffs. You scrunched your face as you laughed, almost skipping to hide behind Jongho who was the only one who had not been making fun of you for the past hour that you had been learning to shoot. You peeked from above his shoulder to see if you had hit the target– the empty wine bottle.

All five of them were intact. 

“The bullet went that way,” Jongho pointed towards the left where the last bottle remained perched on the table. The bullet had gone a bit too far for your liking. You pursed your lips at the subtle jab though he kept his face straight– unlike the two others who were currently clutching at each other and smacking each other’s limbs in an effort to collect themselves from the laughter.

You didn’t realise your shooting skills had become this rusty, but it had been a good few years since the last time you shot a gun. Madame Cha’s gang was happy to entertain your newfound hobby to learn shooting and had helped you get the hang of it, but it was towards the end of your stay in Wonderland so you hadn’t practised much.

While they had also teased you to no end, somehow, it felt more embarrassing this time. 

You loaded the gun again, pointing at the pair who were still clutching to each other and they only laughed harder at your antics, making you groan.

“It’s not that funny, is it? What are you really laughing at?”

“It’s not,” Wooyoung agreed, wiping his eyes. “Your form is good, you just need practice. It’s just that we had a bet–”

“Oh, you lot and your bets,” you looked up at the sky in defeat, hearing Jongho’s laughter ring in the air too. “Who was it this time?”

The three exchanged glances and you raised a brow, pointing the gun at them again. “My aim may be bad but I’m pretty sure I can shoot from this close. Spill.”

“It was Yunho hyung!” Jongho raised his hands in surrender and your eyes widened in disbelief. 

Yunho?

“He bet you wouldn’t shoot one single bottle today,” Mingi added and you scoffed, a sudden desire for revenge bubbling inside you.

How. Dare. He. 

“Oh, it’s only because he thinks we’re bad teachers,” Wooyoung attempted to salvage the situation but the damage to your ego had been done. You shook your head repeatedly. “Please don’t kill him.”

“We’ll see about that,” you told him, face stern. “Now, will you be useful and tell me how to shoot better so he can lose the bet?”

“We’ve been at it for an hour now. You’re wasting our bullets,” Mingi teased.

“I know these bullets are of no use to you anyway,” you smirked and he grinned. “Come on. If he loses the bet I’ll have him treat you guys to dinner.”

“Alright, I’m in,” Wooyoung rolled his sleeves, a serious determination in his eyes as he assessed your form. He rubbed your shoulders to ease the tension from them while giving you pointers on how to spot the target and have your eyes work in coordination with your hands. You shot again with his directions and this time, the bullet lodged itself in the table instead of hitting the target which was clearly a milestone, all of them cheering for you. You tried again with the remaining bullets and Wooyoung helped you aim your hand–

And the shatter of the bottle had to be the most satisfying sound you had heard in a while. You groaned in relief while the boys gathered around you, congratulating you with pats and ruffles and you giggled at how they smothered you with affection– all to win a bet. 

It was truly amazing how they made you feel so comfortable, almost childish, in such a short time. As the youngest of the group, they really lived up to that title. They could lift the energy with their presence alone anywhere. 

“She just earned us dinner! I can’t wait to rub this in Yunho’s face,” Wooyoung was grinning widely. “But for now, let me treat you to some ramen. I make killer ramen.”

You realised how hungry you were at the mention of food and you helped them pack the equipment, ready to go back to the warehouse. You had a bit of free time in the afternoon since Hongjoong was going to the Sector 1 port with Seonghwa and Yunho to make sure the shipment of Black Shadow was dispatched safely to Mist Island. They had offered you to join them but you told them you’d prefer to get familiar with the technicals of the business first. They knew it would be overwhelming so they didn’t insist.

But they must have let the boys at the warehouse know that your evening was free because only a few minutes later, the phone at reception rang asking for you. You wondered who could be calling you but it was Wooyoung, inviting you for shooting lessons at the same spot that you had missed on your first visit. He was in town to buy some equipment and was willing to pick you up so you could go together. 

While you were initially surprised that he was so willing to spend time with you, knowing Wooyoung, it wasn’t strange. He was always with someone. You accepted on the condition that a ride be arranged so you could make it back to your shift on time.

On the way, you learned more about the weapons business and how it started. There was already an established underground weapons channel run by MX and when they trained the Crescents who were still called Ateez at that time, they let them take over. Rival gangs like Chan’s gang– Wolfgang– had different suppliers which was why there was always a conflict of interests between them, prompting street fights or worse. 

What made Ateez different from the other gangs was that shortly after taking over MX’s weapons business, they started manufacturing their own weapons and started dealing them in the underground network, resuming many of the channels that had shut down before or during the war. While some argued that it was dangerous and immoral to deal weapons, only a few knew how important and beneficial it would ultimately be for Eden’s defence. Eden had suffered a lot in the war and they needed to stand strong and proud on their feet once again.

You had been discussing the suppliers before you reached the warehouse and then got busy with greeting the employees before moving to the spot in the forest to practise. And now that you were back at the warehouse, seated at the backside on plastic chairs, you clapped when Wooyoung set the pot of ramen in the middle of the table. The savoury smell made your mouth water and you waited until Wooyoung settled down before you all dug in.

“This really is–” you nodded, thumbs up in the air, “killer ramen.”

“Right?” Wooyoung smiled cheekily. “Goes straight to the heart when you’re tired.”

“He’s our designated chef,” Jongho explained and you nodded in approval. Of course he was. “You should ask him to treat you to a proper meal.”

“Oh, she doesn’t need to ask,” Wooyoung announced proudly. “You’re welcome to a meal any time.”

“Wow, really?” You asked and he nodded earnestly. You looked at the others who were unfazed. “Thank you?”

“You don’t have to sound so sceptical,” Mingi laughed. “You should get used to this by now.”

He was right. Wooyoung was naturally very friendly and so very different from the rest of the Crescents. Something about his presence was very comforting and he was not judgemental at all, which you supposed made him pleasant company. You ate a bit more before you recalled the unanswered question.

“I meant to ask earlier,” you began, looking at Wooyoung. “Do you always keep a check of who funds your weapons project?”

Wooyoung, whose mouth was full of ramen, nudged Mingi and he cleared his throat. “We usually do, but most of the time they’re anonymous. Still, we try to trace the sources just to be on the safe side.”

You nodded. “And do you currently have any anonymous funding?”

“A few, yes,” Mingi’s brows furrowed in concentration as he recalled. “I think it’s mostly people in Eden or in rare cases, foreigners, who try very hard to remain anonymous. We keep the anonymity of our sources anyway, it’s not like everyone knows that we deal in weapons.”

“Most of the people do, though,” Jongho pointed out.

“Yeah, but it’s all under the shadows,” Wooyoung said, looking at you. “Are you on to something? I think I can recognise that look now.”

The look being your chin tucked between your fingers as you stared into the distance. You shot him a dirty look but he was right. “I’m not sure if any politicians fund your weapons project but it would be wise to start digging into it. Just to confirm if they are involved.”

“Usually, the politicians would stick to legal channels,” Jongho reminded you but continued. “Usually. It wouldn’t be strange if someone was making sure Eden had enough supply of weapons through us or some other channel, now that I think about it…”

“Right?” You bit your lips in thought. “Now that you’re expanding the business, making new deals and involving yourselves in politics, it would be sensible to start worrying about who’s funding your project and for what reasons.”

“Definitely,” Wooyoung concurred and you checked the time.

“Alright, boys. I think it’s time for me to leave,” you said, getting up.

“Stay~” Wooyoung whined, his entire demeanour shifting in a second with his arms reaching out for you, making you choke on laughter. Jongho shook his head, cleaning the table while Mingi smacked Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung only wrapped his arm around Mingi’s waist, snuggling close to him and you watched with interest at how Mingi’s arm naturally went around the younger’s back. Wooyoung looked at you. “Join our little bubble.”

“If he joins, sure,” you pointed at Jongho and he widened his eyes at you, scandalised. Wooyoung grinned, moving to grab the maknae’s arm who physically recoiled with a little yelp. You knew Jongho was not a fan of physical affection so it was quite a sight to see Wooyoung chase Jongho. He gave up with a groan, yelling threats at him but Jongho only flipped his middle finger in answer.

“Send Yunho my greetings, will you? Tell him I miss him and he should stop betraying my moral loyalty,” Mingi said, standing beside you as you watched the youngest yell threats at each other. You made a face.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’ll know,” Mingi passed you a knowing look and you narrowed your eyes at him but nodded anyway. You could pass a message, sure. 

While Jongho did not join the bubble, you still received hugs from Wooyoung, even a kiss on the temple to tell you that you did well, and if you weren’t interrupted by someone shouting that the car was ready to go, the boys would have seen you awkwardly fidget as you wondered if Wooyoung was this casual with just anyone. You distantly recalled both San and Yeosang mentioning that Wooyoung wasn’t physically affectionate with just anyone and you wondered how you made it to that list. 

Perhaps, you would ask Yeosang.

“You should drink less coffee at this hour of the night, Luna,” Yunho commented, noticing how it was your third cup since you arrived at the office. 

“Well, the paperwork is boring and putting me to sleep. You’re awfully quiet tonight too. Did it hurt your ego, losing the bet?”

Yunho chuckled darkly, settling back almost proudly. “I didn’t place the bet to win it. I placed it because I knew you would be mad when you hear about it. I may have lost the battle but I won the war, ultimately.”

You clenched your jaw, mirroring his position though you folded your arms. “I don’t quite believe that. I think you’re just making up excuses.”

Yunho only smiled, maintaining eye contact with you and you kept it almost as a challenge. 

It had been hot and cold with him tonight. It didn't help that you had to spend most of the time in Yunho’s office, working with him on the monthly report and updating each other on the recent happenings. You delivered Mingi’s message right when you arrived and that sent him into a fit of laughter, perhaps having realised what he meant. You didn’t ask but it piqued your curiosity to no end.

And then you told him that you won the boys their bet and that had him chuckling darkly with him being pretty adamant that you may have cheated.

Sure, Wooyoung had practically held your hand and guided that winning shot, but that couldn’t be counted as cheating… right?

“I still think I can do a better job at teaching shooting than they did,” Yunho cocked his head. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”

“Where?”

“I know a place,” Yunho smirked and you raised a brow. “Let’s wrap this up first.”

Somehow, that served as motivation for you both, perhaps for different reasons. You cleaned up the office and locked the doors as you left, walking side by side along the canal just like you had done so many times now, except this time you were going in the opposite direction, away from your apartment. 

Maddox Street was mostly empty save for the few drunkards at this hour of the night. The potted plants lining the offices and shops were still damp from the light shower from the evening, the wet smell of earth permeating your surroundings. At the end of the road, you could see the faint outline of a bright diamond-shaped shop sign that belonged to the store of Maddox and Co. This road was pretty clean, so… why were you here?

“Don’t tell me there’s a shooting range nearby,” you attempted to prod but Yunho wasn’t budging. “Do you plan to test your aim by shooting me? Because that would have sounded like a nice idea earlier, but now I’m not so sure…”

“Relax,” Yunho laughed. “We’re going to practise shooting but not with guns.”

“I’m tired–”

“You won’t be tired for this,” Yunho promised and you spent the rest of your walk arguing and teasing each other until you reached–

“Not the park,” you looked at Yunho in disbelief. “This is where kids come, Lieutenant Jeong.”

Yunho laughed at the way you pulled his rank into it. “This is also where you can find slingshots lying around.”

Now that piqued your interest. “And how would you know?”

“If you were a Sector 1 local, sweetheart, you would have known,” Yunho told you, ditching his overcoat on the bench to go find a slingshot. You bit the inside of your cheek to make yourself move past his casual use of the term, ditching your own coat and purse to find stones. In a few minutes, he was back with two slingshots and you had a pile of pebbles. 

As Yunho taught you how to use a slingshot, he told you that this was a spot that he had frequently visited when he was a kid. Apparently, that’s how Mingi and Yunho became friends. Their parents used to bring them here in the evenings. Your heart warmed when you heard the stories he shared with you– you could almost imagine the 13 years old duo fighting over who was a better slinger. 

“It’s hard to believe that you were once normal kids,” you laughed as you attempted to shoot the branch Yunho had stuck on the ground as your target, though both of you were more focused on each other than actually shooting pebbles at the target. “The war stole the innocence of so many children.”

“I was eighteen. Not really a child,” Yunho said but you shook your head.

“That’s still too young to find yourself on the path to becoming an honoured Lieutenant Colonel,” you told him and he shrugged. There was no hurt in his eyes anymore, the years spent in the war and the aftermath having hardened his heart, yet you found his lips curling into a soft smile as he imagined what could have been had the circumstances been different. 

You shot another pebble, this time zooming past the stick and managing to shake it a little. A close call. “Do you often come back here?”

Yunho smiled guiltily this time. “It’s my first time after the war. I only watched from there sometimes,” he pointed at the road across the park. 

You lowered the slingshot as you looked at him– his first time back, and he brought you here? He was nervously tugging at his form-fitting black waistcoat, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled upwards, baring the veins that popped as he clenched his fists, attempting to reposition the slingshot in his hands.  

You tossed the slingshot aside, urging him to sit beside you on the bench instead. The cool air blew against the back of your head, making a few tendrils escape from your bun. “How does it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” he admitted. “Perhaps because it’s so empty at this hour.”

“And why did you bring me here tonight?” 

Yunho looked at you, eyes almost half-lidded. “Do I need a reason to bring you here?”

“Not really,” you shrugged, resting your back against the bench in resignation. “Although, it would be nice if there was. ‘Jeong Yunho, the big, cold mafia consigliere person, brings his bookkeeper slash secretary to the park from his childhood’. Makes a good headline for Eden Newspaper, does it not–”

You felt Yunho’s hair caress your cheek before you felt his cheek rest on your shoulder. He slid down a little to accommodate himself better, almost snuggling into you.

“You got a headline for this?” Yunho asked in a low, tired voice. “Or did I finally make you shut up?”

You gulped so loudly you were sure he heard it. But you weren’t going to back away. “‘Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho of Crescent Co. found snuggling with his secretary at the Topaz Park. Sources say it was a rare sight to see’--” you paused when he intertwined his hand with yours. You cleared your throat. “‘And some witnesses say they may have seen the consigliere hold the woman’s hand…’”

When he kissed the back of your hand, his lips soft against your skin, that’s when you finally shut up for a few moments. But Yunho, no matter how tired he was, had a penchant of making a mess out of you. “Carry on.”

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” You asked quietly, your heart thumping. There was no way out of this now– not when he rested his body weight against yours, making his body heat feel incredibly welcoming in the otherwise cold weather.

“This wasn’t the original plan,” he looked at your joined hands, smiling at how small your hand looked in his. “But I quite like where we are right now.”

You couldn’t help but rest your head against his in response, letting him pepper kisses on your knuckles and then your fingertips, your heart absolutely melting at the sight– you were simply in awe right now.

Jeong Yunho. The Jeong Yunho kissing the inside of your palm.

“Yunho,” you almost groaned when you had enough, drawing away to look at him. He raised his head a little and you suddenly became aware of just how close he was– so close that you could see the brown of his pupil even in the dim streetlight. Your gaze softened at the sight and you found yourself turning towards him, your hand cupping his face and you felt your heart break when he leaned in to your touch.

“You look like a big puppy right now,” you commented and he laughed softly, shaking his head. “I did not realise you’d be this… warm.”

“For you,” he told you. “If someone told me a few months ago that I’d be here like this with the bookkeeper girl from the bar, I would have shot them in the face.”

You grinned, searching his face while his eyes searched yours. “Do you feel the pull too? This thing between us?”

“I do,” he confirmed, moving closer subconsciously as if to prove his point.

“It’s confusing,” you told him. “I’ve felt it often– not only with you.”

If you expected him to draw away, he didn’t. He only smiled, his gaze somehow softening even more. “I know.”

“Yet you’re still here,” you squeezed his hand that was clasped in yours. He shrugged as if to show his submission.

“Will you run away if I get closer?” He asked so cautiously that you wished you could tell him that you would never even take a single step away from him. You shook your head and he mirrored your position, cupping your face with his free hand and joining his forehead with yours, noses brushing and breath mingling with yours.

He went ahead to kiss the corner of your mouth softly and something that resembled a whimper escaped your mouth– god, it had been too long since you had been touched like this and the fact that it was Yunho, of all the people, was making your head spin. You moved your hands to clutch at his waistcoat and he wasted no time, cupping your face in both hands and kissing you square on the mouth, your lips moving in harmony almost immediately. 

Your insides were in shambles and you let him guide you through the kiss, though he was in no hurry now that he had gotten a taste of you. He moved his lips along yours slowly, sensually, tugging at your lips and leaving small licks that made you groan and curl your body along his. 

His hand went to snake behind your neck while the other arm went around your waist, bringing your bodies flush and he momentarily broke apart, out of breath and you knew it wasn’t because he needed air– it was because you both needed a moment to process what was happening. You, however, wanted more. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged at his bottom lip, making him kiss you deeply again and when you swiped your tongue across his lips, he gladly opened but only to let his tongue inside your mouth to explore first. You let out a low moan at the feeling, kissing each other passionately until you were actually out of breath.

When you drew apart, he rested his head on your shoulder, his body shaking as he chuckled almost in disbelief. You smacked his arm but let him be, smiling. 

Lovestruck.

“Was this a good decision?” You wondered out aloud for both of you.

“Who cares?” Yunho uncharacteristically answered, kissing your exposed neck. “We can worry about that later.”

“Right,” you muttered, pushing him away gently so you could look him in the eyes. “This changes nothing at work, alright? I prioritise my position.”

“I prioritise my position too. This one, specifically,” he leaned forward so that your faces were centimetres away and when your eyes widened in surprise, he grinned childishly. “But you’re right. We’re still consigliere and secretary. I expect you won’t shirk your duties just because I kissed you.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, looking around to make sure no one was nearby. You looked back at him, struck by a sudden wave of desire but you quelled it. “Let’s talk later– preferably in broad daylight.”

“Oh, the things I’d do to you in daylight,” Yunho said challengingly, but he suddenly looked guarded. “Do you think anything I did tonight was unserious or thoughtless?”

“No,” you replied though you had to admit, you were a tad bit surprised that he was fully serious. Even cautious. “But Yunho… I need some time to figure a few things out.”

“You can have that,” he assured. “And Luna… everything that you’re feeling right now, about me, about us,” he said and you had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about you and him. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you squeezed his hand. “Walk me home?”

“Only if I get a goodbye kiss.”

“Lieutenant Jeong Yunho!”

next chapter

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[thatmexisaurusrex]

What if Tommy met Buck when Buck was still doing his fire inspector job? What if Buck came to Tommy's station for a surprise inspection and Tommy was the one who hung back at the station that day?

What if Evan was so distracted by seeing Tommy topless as he worked on the engine of a helicopter that he called himself Buckley Evan before quickly correcting himself? What if Tommy laughed at that in a way that made Buck's heart skip a beat? What if Tommy introduced himself and shook Buck's hand and Buck's imagination drifted as he thought about how big those hands were?

And.

What if Buck apologized for spacing out when Tommy, feeling nervous about a random inspection of Harbor Station, asked if Buck was okay?

What if Tommy, stressing out and spiraling a bit, did his best to undersell so that maybe the inspection would go well (the station was in perfect order, Tommy really didn't need to do this)? What if Buck got lost in Tommy's natural charm, trying to assure Tommy that the station was probably okay as they walked over to the station proper (and it was better than okay - it was the most well-kept station Buck had ever seen in his life)?

What if Tommy kept babbling; explained that he just finished most of the reorganizing that he did at the beginning of every month and just finished most of the deep clean of the station, but he apologized if it was still a little messy (the station was practically spotless)?

What if Buck placed a hand on Tommy's arm as he told Tommy that Tommy was going to be fine; that what Buck had seen of the station so far was all in fantastic shape? What if Tommy's face heated up at that touch; the heat creeping all the way to the tips of his ears; down to his chest?

What if Tommy, in a flurry, went through the safety manual basically verbatim, practically memorized as he showed Buck around and talked about how he kept the place up to snuff?

What if Buck, supremely impressed, gushed (honestly so) that Harbor Station had no dings at all? That it was the most up-to-code station that Buck had ever seen in his life?

What if they had a moment?

Just.

Staring at each other?

What if Buck swore as he got a call from his bosses? Hated that he had to take it, but he did take that call? What if the rest of Harbor Station came in, the shift over? What if in the blur of the shift change, Buck and Tommy missed each other?

That Buck hung up only to find out Tommy had already left for his condo?

What if Tommy, alone, wonders distantly if there really was a spark there with that fire inspector or if he was just fooling himself? If this was some rom-com sensibility taking hold of Tommy every time he wasn't distracted with a hobby? If this was Tommy deluding himself into believing someone like Evan Buckley would want a man like Tommy Kinard?

Probably fooling himself.

Hadn't Evan said he was an ally?

What if Buck, frustrated and very, very horny for some reason, finds his mind drifting to Tommy as he - as he -

And in the middle of the night, Buck found himself staring at his ceiling; wondering if it was normal that he kept thinking about the firefighter pilot with the hot ass every time he was single? When he was alone at night and he thought about that cleft and that ass and those hands and how the man knew how to goddamn keep a place up-to-code? And organized?

And what if, now transferred back to the 118, Buck, Eddie, and Chimney need a pilot to help Hen out on her hunch about the missing cruise ship Bobby and Athena are on?

And what if Chimney calls someone up, proclaiming that he knows a guy?

And what if Buck and Tommy cross paths again, as if serendipity?

What if?

[joezworld]

Christmas Story

Merry Christmas you guys.

Christmas Day

Morning broke over one of the most subdued Christmases Tidmouth sheds had ever seen. 

For most of the engines, it had started early: 

Gordon had vanished before the sun, taking some morning train - which one it was, nobody was quite sure; the limited-service Christmas day timetable was a baffling mystery that only became clear on the day of.

Edward, who woke at five-thirty in the morning out of habit, had elected to leave the shed while silence still reigned. Whichever train Gordon didn’t take, he did. 

James and Delta woke together as twilight began to dapple the sky, and slipped out of the shed with a bare minimum of noise or fuss. Where they went off to was anyone’s guess. Oliver, who missed their departure despite being awake, could only guess. They’d said something about the harbour?

That left just the three Westerners in the room. Oliver was the only one awake, and he regarded the scene with worried eyes. Bear and Duck hadn’t exchanged two words since Bear’s new “paint” had been applied, and he did not want to be around to hear what they said. Shortly before seven thirty, an inspector groused his way in, looking for an engine willing to run a P-Way service down the Little Western to finish up the various issues with the line, and Oliver jumped at the chance.

That left just two… 

-

Bear awoke to the morning sun finally making an appearance. The shed appeared to be empty, but… 

There was a quiet clatter to one side, and he lazily looked over to see Duck’s crew staring at each other in accusation while an oil can rolled on the ground. 

Bear didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he particularly wanted to say. 

“Um.” Unfortunately, Duck did. “Bear. About…”

“Duck.” Bear cut him off. “I understand your… position right now, or at least I think I do, but I don’t want to talk to you right now.” He sighed deeply. “Or perhaps for a while. Maybe you should try this again later.”

There was a quiet sniffle from the tank engine, who then departed with a minimum of noise or fuss. 

Bear didn’t feel a bit of bother about how he made his fellow engine feel, and that bothered him more than anything else. 

-

Eventually, a crew came for him. It was pushing ten in the morning, and he set off with a strange working: an empty coaching stock move all the way to Kirk Ronan. 

“There’s a guaranteed connection with the ferry from France,” his driver explained. “Usually there’s another train, but not today.”

“Damned Christmas timetable…” 

“You know,” the man continued. “It’s strange. Gordon was supposed to take this train, but he insisted on having you take it. Couldn’t begin to imagine why.”

Bear rolled his eyes. “It’s easy work. This is probably his idea of a Christmas present.”

“Who knows?”

-

Bear didn’t put any more thought into it, and brought the train into Kirk Ronan right on schedule.

The ferry, a big red and white one named Chartres, was already there, moored tightly to the dock, and absolutely festooned with lights and decorations. «Joyeux Noël, mon petit ami!» She boomed. “It is a time of joy and happiness, no? Where are all the decorations?”

Bear looked around; the ferry terminal was quite drab - he remembered hearing something about the snow being worse along the coast. Maybe they couldn’t decorate. “They must be saving them for next year!” he said, trying to seem upbeat. 

The ferry made a noise of assent, and then any chance for further conversation was lost as a flood of passengers made their way down the boarding ramps and into the coaches. Soon afterwards, the train departed back the way it came, express service to Tidmouth station. The ferry heralded their departure with an earth-shaking foghorn blast, and then they were into the distance. 

There were almost no other trains on the line, and Bear had plenty of time to think. Goodness me. It really is Christmas, isn’t it? I made it through the month, and all it cost me was one friend, most of my sanity, and my identity. 

He laughed bitterly to himself. This is a terrible Christmas. 

As he went further down the line, another thought came to him. I can’t believe I let them use this paint on me. I thought blue was too much? This itches!

-

The train arrived at Tidmouth a few minutes ahead of schedule, just as the clocks struck noon, and Bear was surprised to see that there was a “restricting-diverge” signal ahead of him. “They’re sending us around the loop?” 

“The loop”, a section of line that Gordon had famously been mis-routed down once (James still needles him about it, once in a great while), was not actually a single line, but was rather a series of feeder tracks that connected the various dockside industries with the harbour itself, as well as the big station. In the early 1900s, some bright spark (probably Sir Topham Hatt, although the Dry family had significant involvement in the development of Tidmouth’s dockyards) had realized that making a full “loop” to connect both sides of the big station to the docks may be beneficial, and so many of the lightly built industrial spurs were connected into a rambling branch line that snaked through Tidmouth’s waterfront before ducking underneath the high street in a cutting, eventually meeting the Little Western just outside the station’s “rear”. Doing this added almost fifteen minutes to a journey, and so it was restricted to only the most dire of emergencies (or if you really irked the signalman). 

As Bear trundled over, under, around, and through Tidmouth, he had the distinct feeling that he was being played with. There weren’t any signals out of order, he wondered. Why am I going this way?

He got his answer soon enough, as he eventually entered the station through the Little Western’s platforms, gliding to a stop about three-quarters of the way down the platform. 

To his confusion, he was not the only engine there:

Duck and Oliver were face-to-face on the platform to his left, and each looked like they’d rather be anywhere else. 

Gordon was parked directly in front, with a worryingly inscrutable grin on his face. 

Toby was parked next to Gordon, and looked like he was only now understanding what was going on. 

In the background, Truro had been pushed just inside the station’s glass canopy, clearly so that he could hear what was going on. Amusingly, he also wasn’t meant to interrupt whatever was going to occur, as there was a red-and-white checkered tablecloth shoved into his mouth to gag him. Even better, nobody had bothered to set or splint his nose at any point. It looked like it really hurt. Shame about that. 

Alongside the porters and other staff meeting the train, there were several members of the station staff lining the platform, each in their “dress” uniforms, complete with shined shoes and buttons. 

Finally, and perhaps most concerningly, the… Yugoslav-Mexican band that the Fat Controller had sourced was tuning their instruments on the platform next to Gordon. 

-

“Do I even want to know?” he asked Gordon as the passengers poured out of the train. 

“Just go along with it,” Toby said, looking resigned to whatever was about to happen. 

“Brother Toby,” Gordon chided. “Is that really the tone you wish to take in front of the initiates?”

“Gordon,” Toby began. “You are treading upon a line that I didn’t even know existed three minutes ago. Get on with it.”

“In due time…” Gordon said beatifically. “Once we have privacy.”

And so they waited for another ten minutes while the passengers departed. Everybody except Gordon felt increasingly awkward as time stretched on, but eventually the last stragglers had made their way to the waiting room doors. Once they swung shut with a solid click that could be heard four platforms away, Gordon cleared his throat. “Let us begin.” 

Bizarrely, the stationmaster then stepped forward. He was dressed up even more than the other station staff, and was wearing white tie, complete with a top hat. He was holding a pad of paper in his hands - while they’d been waiting, Bear had seen a glimpse of it, and it looked like it was some sort of speech-  oh no.

“OYEZ! OYEZ! OYEZ!” The stationmaster bellowed at the top of his voice, scaring everyone except Gordon and the band. “WE NOW CALL TO ORDER THIS EMERGENCY SESSION OF THE EXCEPTIONAL AND MOST RESPECTABLE GRAND OLD ORDER OF THE LONDON AND NORTH EASTERN RAILWAY!”

“The what.” Someone said. It might have been Bear.

“TO START THIS SESSION, WE TURN TO THE HONORABLE MEMBER FROM THE GREAT NORTHERN RAILWAY, WHO HAS BEEN GRANTED POWERS PLENIPOTENTIARY DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES!” 

“Granted what.”

“From where.”

Gordon had the audacity to look like something normal was occurring. “Thank you, sir,” he said with remarkable aplomb. “Ordinarily, these sessions would begin with a great deal more pomp and circumstance, however in light of yesterday’s events, I have elected to set those aside in order to get down to business.” 

He looked around the station, ignoring the absolutely baffled looks being sent his direction. “Since the year nineteen hundred and twenty three, the Grand Old Order of the London and North Eastern has claimed, in due time, every locomotive who has ever rolled out of one of our most esteemed workshops. Under the banner of the North Eastern, and our numerous predecessor railways, countless deeds of mechanical excellence have been performed. Mountains have been moved, cities have been evacuated, and nature herself has been tamed by our steel and metal, brick and stone.” 

He paused his stentorian address for a second, again surveying the increasing bafflement, before continuing. “To serve under our flag was to commit yourself to greatness, in one form or another. And for the last sixty-one years, this has been enough; we have recognized greatness, and greatness has come unto us.”

“However!” he exclaimed with great drama. “Recent events have forced a change in our calculus. Before this day, we have only ever accepted locomotives from our own workshops into our ranks - our own kind. Before today, that was seen as sufficient. No more!” 

He again surveyed the room, and Bear got the distinct feeling that Gordon wasn’t actually looking at faces at all. He tried to follow the gaze and found it lingering on the ‘GREAT WESTERN” insignia on Duck and Oliver’s sides, and the Western Region crest on his own, just visible under the paint.

He began to get an inkling of where this was going…

Gordon continued. “We had never felt the need to expand our own ranks before this day, because we had committed an act of hubris. We had assumed, like children, that all other railways within this great nation behaved in the same way as us! That they recognized greatness within their own ranks just as we did in our own.” 

His face turned serious. “This was an error. One that we shall never make again.”

Behind him, behind all of them, City of Truro’s eyebrows began to knit together. Clearly Bear was not the only one thinking along these lines. Something was mumbled against the gag. 

The next few sentences felt shouted, despite Gordon never raising his voice. “Over the month of December nineteen eighty-four, it has become known to us that City of Truro, the so-called “Greatest of all Westerners”, and the de facto leader of their kind, is nothing but a duplicitous charlatan! A murderous brute, who uses subterfuge and dirty tactics in ways not seen since modernization some twenty years past! He is no better than the worst examples of diesel-kind!”

There was a muffled shout from behind Gordon. It was ignored. 

Gordon continued. “But lo! He is the public and private face of the Great Western! One hundred fifty years of history, resting squarely upon his deceptive and ill-tempered buffers! Truly he is the worst of us, and is unfit to lead his clan.”

There was yet another muffled noise. Truro might actually be biting on the tablecloth now. 

“However, we are not in the position to make decisions for another railway, let alone one as ancient and prestigious as the Great Western.” Gordon intoned. Bear didn’t like the sparkle developing in the blue engine’s eyes. That could only mean trouble. “But, we can make amends in our own way!” 

Bear’s train of thought screamed into the station, brake-blocks smoking. Oh he is going to, isn’t he?

“HONOR GUARD,” roared the stationmaster. “PRE-SENT!” 

Someone had actually gone to the trouble of painting a coal shovel gold. Truro sounded like he was going to eat the tablecloth. 

Then the band started playing. It was, after a moment of harmonizing, a very jaunty version of Pomp and Circumstance. 

Bear was actually going to go insane. 

He’s going to do it. He’s going to induct me into the damned LNER like it’s going to make things better. 

The porter carrying the shovel turned on his heel and marched over to Duck and Oliver, marching like this was a drill exercise at a military academy. All three Western engines blinked. 

“Now,” Gordon said. “With the aforementioned facts now known, I, as the most honorable member from the Great Northern Railway, do hereby nominate Oliver to be enjoined with our ranks, and formally inducted into the Grand Old Order of the London and North Eastern. Brother Toby, as the Right Honorable Member from the Great Eastern Railway, will you second this motion?”

“Gordon, I-”

“Will you second this motion?”

A sigh. “Yes, I will second this motion. As the… righteous and honorable member from the GER.”

“Thank you, Brother Toby. The motion has been seconded!”

“Gordon, I-”

“Thank you.”

Gordon turned his attention to the “honor guard”, who dropped to one knee next to Oliver’s buffers, and laid the shovel gently across the nearest one. 

Bear momentarily managed to tear his eyes away from the spectacle, finding Toby in the sea of insanity. Is this happening? He mouthed. 

Yes, this is actually happening. Came the response. 

“Oliver!” Gordon boomed, snapping Bear’s gaze back to the insanity occurring in front of him. “Your years of loyalty and honorable service have not gone un-noticed! For too long you have labored away without reward, without the fruits of your own labours. For your tireless service to your railway, your own kind, and to yourself, you shall be honored. Do you Consent to be joined to the Order of the London and North Eastern? Do you Swear to follow and uphold their Ways, ahead of all others?”

Oliver looked absolutely dumbstruck. “Uhh… I, uh….”

“Say yes or we’ll never be done with it!” Toby hissed. 

“Uh- YES!” Oliver squeaked, suddenly realizing that he wasn’t in a position to say no. “Yes I do!”

Gordon looked immensely pleased with himself. “Then I dub thee ‘Brother Oliver’, and formally induct you into the Order. Welcome.” 

Oliver looked overwhelmed, a feeling that Bear mirrored, especially once the “honor guard” stood and marched over to Duck with precise marching steps that wouldn’t have been out of place in a military drill. 

Duck looked… well he looked almost vacant, staring off into the middle distance as events happened around him. It took little intuition to figure out where he was looking: there, in the middle distance, was City of Truro, furiously raging behind the tablecloth. 

The shovel was laid on Duck’s buffer, and the whole process began again. Gordon began an even longer and more pompous sounding prattle about Duck’s service at Paddington, how he’d dispatched Diesel, and how he’d managed the Little Western in the years since. There wasn’t a mention of how he’d acted during the last month, but even the most uncharitable part of Bear’s mind couldn’t really square a month’s worth of inaction against a half-century’s worth of work. 

There is no way I can be agreeing with Gordon on this. The big diesel thought to himself. He’s insane. He’s trying to… show up Truro by ‘adopting’ us. 

Gordon had launched into an identical spiel about “Consenting”, but Duck had barely let him get the word out before saying “Yes.” in a quiet but undeniably firm manner. 

Gordon managed to keep his surprise contained to an upward quirk of his eyebrows, but everyone else, Bear included, were thoroughly shocked. 

What? I would’ve thought that he wouldn’t… couldn’t… I mean, it’s the Great Western, that’s his life!

Duck didn’t take his eyes off of Truro the entire time. The forcefully silenced engine was turning a worrying shade of purple.

Bear had a sudden moment of understanding. But it’s his life… as defined by Truro. 

He doesn’t want this anymore than I do. Truro isn’t god. He’s not Brunel. 

But he is the Great Western. 

He looked at Truro, who was again trying to eat or spit out the tablecloth. A group of porters carrying a ladder, a shunter's pole, and some amount of canvas were approaching him menacingly. 

And if that’s the Great Western. 

He looked at Gordon, who was finishing Duck’s “induction” with a mix of surprise, seriousness, and well-earned pomposity. And that’s the LNER…  

Then… Maybe…

The “honor guard” turned to face him.

Gordon’s speech was shorter than his praise of Duck, but longer than Oliver’s. “Bear! Your continued service to this railway has not gone un-noticed! For over twenty years you have taken on every job asked of you with a dignity, grace, and competence that has made you not only a sterling member of this railway, but of your class as a whole. It would be my honor to induct you into the Grand Old Order of the London and North Eastern Railway!  Do you Consent to be joined to the Order? Do you Swear to follow and uphold their Ways, ahead of all others?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes, I do.”

----

Later that night

“I’m sorry,” Edward stared in a rare moment of bafflement. “The Grand Old Order of the what?” 

“There’s no such thing.” James said firmly. “Do you think that he’d talk about anything else if there was?”

"I’m well aware of that," Edward said, still deeply confused. "The Southern and LMS had elite, secret brotherhoods, that's well known. I'd never heard anything about the LNER, and if Gordon hasn’t said anything before now…”

BoCo smiled faintly. "There might not have been one before last night," he said, "but if Gordon says there is one, then I think it exists now."

"That's rubbish," scoffed Delta. "How can you have an LNER order with Gordon, Duck, Oliver, Bear, and Toby? That’s over fifty percent Great Western."

"If Gordon's started it, every Eastern engine still around will hear and want to be in on it by the end of the month."

"Well, maybe so."

"Blimey.” James said, looking suddenly pensive.” This is going to be a whole thing, isn't it?"

“Oh yes,” Edward agreed. “In fact, I’d say that there’s a decent chance he’ll try to induct us next, so everyone be on your guard if you care about your old allegiances, or at least the appearance of them. 

Bear listened to them with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean? I thought he was trying to get back at Truro?”

The other engines looked at him funny. 

“What?”

“Did you not get it?” Delta asked, in a tone that implied that she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. “This isn’t about Truro, this is about Gordon.” 

“What do you mean?”

The other engines looked at each other. 

“Bear,” Edward began. “Gordon doesn’t care about Truro in that way. I can’t say his exact reasoning for letting him witness the whole event, but I daresay it wasn’t anything more than kicking an engine when he’s already down. That ceremony, on the other wheel… wasn’t about Truro at all.”

“Then what was it about?” 

“You!” several voices said at once. The other engines looked at each other, before James of all engines spoke up. 

“Bear, Gordon’s an idiot, but he’s our idiot. And he thinks, because he’s an idiot, that he can only care about someone if they’re…” he searched for the right word. 

“Related?” BoCo said after a second. 

“Not the word I was looking for but close enough.” James continued. “He doesn’t think he’s allowed to care about you unless you’re… related to him, somehow. Or at least that it’s not proper. Stupid Londoner nonsense if you ask me, but he tries to care anyways, which means that when someone like you gets bossed around and treated like yesterday’s ashes by the… what’s the word?”

“Embodiment?”

“Yep that’s it - the embodiment of your railway, he doesn’t think he can help because… “well that’s a Great Western issue”.” James could not imitate Gordon at all but he did it anyway. “And so when he has to do something - and trust me somebody was going to have to do something about that berk - he’s going to get…”

“Inventive?” 

James glared at Edward, Delta, and BoCo. “Would you three like to say it?”

“No, I think you’re doing a fine job.”

“Nope.”

“You’ve got it under control.”

James sighed deeply, and opened his mouth to say something more, but was cut off by Bear. “So, wait. Gordon did all that because he… cares about me? Us?” 

“If you must know,” Gordon’s voice rang out as he backed into the shed in a flurry of smoke and snowflakes. “I did it because you would otherwise be forever yoked to that infantile and childish railway and its monstrous figurehead. By “staking a claim” in you, for lack of a better phrase, you are once and forevermore freed of any association with that brutish monstrosity.”

“And the fact that you now have a guilt-free reason to be nice to him is just a perk, hm?” Delta said smugly. 

“Delta,” Gordon said as he was turned on the turntable. “If you would like for me to have a ‘guilt free reason’ to be nice to you, all you have to do is ask. 

“I like my heritage.” She said, all too quickly. “Really!” 

Gordon laughed regally, and backed into the stall between Bear and Edward. “Yes, I’m sure. The offer will stand, however.”

His crew hopped down and began cleaning out his ashpan. Bear took the momentary clatter to whisper to Gordon. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know. I could’ve handled it.”

“I did have to, actually.” Gordon said just as quietly. “There is a time for passivity, and a time for action. The instant he laid buffer on you, the time for action was upon us.”

He said it so firmly, so utterly final, that Bear’s response died in his throat. Gordon looked at him for a second, before turning his attention to the other engines. 

Bear sat there for a while, absorbing his words. My god. They do care about me.

[daddy-issues-subscriber3]

Warning....NSFW material ahead. By reading this, you certify that you are not a minor and legally an adult. (18 years of age or older), and consent to viewing adult-themed material on your own accord . All characters depicted herein are fictional adults aged 18 years and older. An Original writing by Kiddmandu.

Another 60 second fantasy

Feeding The Fire

(TW:: Group Sex, intercourse, G4ngB4ng, BBC,)

While I was in College, I worked part time as a waitress at a local Italian restaurant called Bon Appetite. It wasn't a glamorous job, just the opposite in fact, but it helped to pay for the off-campus apartment that I shared with friends.

One day, I reported for work only to find my boss in complete and utter "Meltdown Mode". It seems that Jimmy, My boss, had gotten a tip that he was getting a surprise visit from the Health Inspector to see if the restaurant was up to sanitary standards. Frantic, that he wasn't going to pass the inspection, Jimmy feared the sanctions that would be levied against him if the restaurant had violations.

"Today of all F**kin' days" Jimmy snorted, as he pushed passed me in a huff.

“What's so special about today?" I asked my co-worker and fellow waitress Kim.

Kim explained that “Five years ago Today, Jimmy had a grease fire that burned up most of the kitchen. If it wasn't for the quick response of the firefighters here in town, it would've been a total loss." She continued. "Every year on this day, Jimmy makes up a bunch of food and personally delivers it over to the Firehouse to show his appreciation. He already has the food cooked, packaged and ready to go...and now this." Kim shook her head with sympathy.

The light bulb went off over my head. This was my chance to make some brownie points with Jimmy. I knew that he was mad at me for coming in late last weekend and here was my chance to get back in his good graces. I carefully stalked Jimmy, and waited for the appropriate time to make my move.

"Hey Jimmy…." I said.

"Not Now Blondie." He snapped at me. ‘Blondie’ was the nickname he had given me the first day I reported for work. "I have a lot on my mind."

"I know...and I think I might be able to help you." I replied in a very passive tone.

Jimmy scoffed "Oh yeah? How's That"?

"Kim just told me about the food for the Firehouse and seeing as you can't leave, I was going to offer to drive the order over there for you." I offered cheerfully.

Jimmy shook his head in disbelief, but then a seemingly calm wave washed over his face. "You know...That would be a big help. Thanks"

Jimmy quickly bagged the two pans, one of Lasagna, the other Chicken Parmigiana, and gave me strict instructions to apologize to the Firemen for his absence. He then sent me on my way.

I carried the food out to my car, and headed across town to the Firehouse.

On my way, I became excited to think I would be greeted by Firemen. Ever since I was a little girl, When the firemen came to our school for Show and Tell, I have always loved firefighters. As I grew older, I found them to be even more sexy, and often fantasized about them during masturbation. I let my imagination run wild, and created a sexy scenario about what could happen when I delivered the food. By the time I pulled into the driveway of the Firehouse, I was nearly jumping out of my skin and feeling very "tingly" in my panties. The thoughts of being fucked by a whole station full of firemen had me in such a tizzy, that I could feel my pussy getting wet. I had to laugh at myself for getting so aroused, when all I was doing was delivering food.

I removed the bags from my car and rang the buzzer on the door. I was greeted by a very handsome, young Fireman who gave me an odd look as he opened the door.

"Hi, I am from “Bon Appetite” Jimmy couldn't make it and apologizes sincerely, but he sent me to deliver the food."

"Oh Hello, I'm Mike. Please come in" Mike said, as he relieved me of the heavy bags and held the door for me. I followed Mike up a flight of stairs to the living quarters. "We're not supposed to have women in here, but the Chief just left for the day, and I don't think anyone will snitch. Especially for someone as pretty as you."

I could feel my face flush with Mike's compliment but more so, I could feel that familiar sexy tingle in my pussy. I was already wondering what Mike looked like naked and how big his cock was.

"Hey guys, The food from Jimmy is here and come see who delivered it." Mike shouted to the guys in the back lounge. Three men came walking out. Though different ages and ethic backgrounds, all were handsome and very muscular.

Again, my crotch quivered.

They all greeted me with a hero's welcome. Pleasantries were exchanged, and while I re-iterated Jimmy's apology, the general consensus was that they were happy I had delivered the food, instead of my boss. "You're much better looking then Jimmy" One of the men said with a flirty smile.

The Firemen invited me to stay for a soda, but I insisted I had to get back to work. "Don't make us call Jimmy, and tell him you refused our gratitude." One said. Thinking that one can of soda wouldn't take very long to drink, I accepted their generosity and took a seat at the table.

For the next 15 minutes, they all took turns complimenting me and flirting with me. We all had a few good laughs and I was thoroughly enjoying all this hunky guy attention.

"I do have one question" I said with a smile. "Where's the fire pole?"

They all laughed.

"You want to ride the pole dontchya?" Mike said, his words dripping with sexual innuendo.

"The pole is right here" A deep voice said from behind me. I turned to see a handsome black man in his mid-thirties, with a very muscular physique. He was motioning to the front of his pants. "You would love to ride this pole baby"

Naturally, my eyes dropped to the front of his pants, as I imagined what was hidden beneath the blue uniform pants. I must’ve stared too long because Mike chimed in with "Look, I think she really does want it !" The men laughed.

"Show her The Pole, Jerry"! One guy said.

"Yeah give it to her"! Another replied.

"Awww Shit...she's just a little girl, she couldn't handle the pole. Besides the Chief would have my ass"!!! Jerry scoffed.

Feeling insulted, yet brazen, I replied. "Hey…Who ya calling a little girl? ...And I have seen big cocks before"!

The other firemen "Ooh-ed” like school kids, as I called Jerry's bluff. I hadn't taken into account the ramifications of my comment, or the trouble it could get me in.

Jerry moved closer and unzipped his zipper. "Big talk...delivery girl. How about I give you something that will fill your smart mouth?"

I looked up into Jerry's chocolate-colored eyes, as I imagined having him in my mouth. I was overcome by a feeling of Euphoria. Jerry reached into his pants and smiled when I didn't stop him from taking his cock out.

I let my gaze fall from Jerry's stare, to his crotch, to where I was treated to a view of the largest cock I have ever seen. It was magnificent. Beautiful even. It was only semi-hard but it looked to be about 10 inches and still growing, Only inches from my face, I was amazed by it's girth and cocoa color. I wanted so badly to reach out and feel it in my hands. I looked back up at Jerry and he nodded to me as if to say "Go ahead"...

...So I did.

I reached out and took Jerry's huge dick into my hand. His shaft was so thick, my fingers strained to encircle it. I closed my eyes and guided the big black dick to my mouth. Extending my tongue, I dragged my tongue up the underside of his cock to the big purple head.

Naturally, the other firefighters cheered and moved in for a closer look. I paid them no mind, as I took the bulbous head into my mouth and sucked gently. Jerry let out a loud moan. Giving him a few strokes with my hand, my mouth made a tight seal around his dick. I worked as much of the mammoth shaft into my mouth as I could, and bobbed up and down on it. I jerked Jerry a bit faster and could taste the salty taste of his pre-cum in my mouth.

My mind was racing. In the past, I had done some things at frat parties that I thought were pretty slutty. This certainly topped them all. How could I be doing this??? More importantly, How could I be enjoying this so much? My God, I really was a slut.

The other firemen had formed a circle around Jerry and I, as they watched the pleasure I was giving Jerry's "Pole". I looked up to see Mike's lust-filled smile to my right. I brought my hand up and began rubbing the front of his pants. I wanted him as well. Mike unzipped, and had his dick out in a flash. I continued to suck Jerry, but had now begun to stroke Mike's rigid cock. Almost on cue, the other two Firemen released their cocks from their pants, and now there were four hard-ons in my face. I took turns stroking and sucking all of the different cocks that were awaiting my attention.

Hands began to undress me. I didn’t protest. This was a dream come true for me, and now I really wanted to get fucked by these sexy firefighters.

I stood up and let them undress me completely. Passionately and lustfully, they quickly removed my clothing, until I stood among them completely naked. Hands clutched at my breasts, fingers slithered into my pussy and ass. It was so incredibly hot to have these four men violating me. I could feel my wetness dripping down my thighs as my pussy ached to be touched, licked, and fucked.

I took a place upon the floor, as they converged on me. Mike was the first to have my pussy, while the others knelt beside me hoping for more of my mouth and tongue. Mike entered me quickly, forcefully, but my pussy was so wet that he slid in easily. I moaned aloud, as he thrusted into me again and again. His cock, while nowhere near as big as Jerry, still felt really good in my cunt, and my legs wrapped around his back to draw him in deeper.

I took Jerry into one hand, and one of the other guys into another. The third guy, the smallest cock of the four, forced his way into my mouth and fucked my face, once I accepted him .

“Yeahhhh… you’re a hot Bitch!!!” Mike said through gritted teeth, as he pumped away to the cheers of "Go Rookie Go" It was just a few minutes before he was blowing his hot, gooey load all over my tummy.

"Switch" someone yelled, to a round of laughs, and another guy positioned himself between my thighs, while Mike and the other nameless guy took positions near my head. To my surprise, Jerry however, fell back and just watched as he stroked his massive cock. I didn't understand why, but was way too involved in what was going on, to ask him.

Over the next hour, All but Jerry, took turns fucking my pussy, mouth and ass. I had several intense orgasms and now I laid there panting on the floor covered in the firefighters’ sperm. Creamy, white cum seemed to be dripping from everywhere. The men all backed away and looked down at me, as I cleaned myself with a towel.

That is when Jerry stepped before me, his monster dick, rock hard, and pointing at me. "I thought you wanted to ride the fire pole" He said with a smile.

…And I smiled right back.

Another 60 second fantasy by

Daddy-issues-subscriber3

(aka Kiddmandu)

[ginandoldlace]

Flower Sellers on Piccadilly Circus. c. 1900. By 1889, there were 2,000 flower sellers in the city. They had not been a fixture on London streets for long, but had become plentiful so quickly that it was hard to imagine the metropolis without them. They stood in the main thoroughfares, and at the entrances to hospitals and cemeteries, and they sold to people of all classes.

With so many sellers on the streets, competition was fierce. Newspapers through the late 1800s carry mentions of flower sellers getting in drunken brawls with their rivals, blocking roadways with their laden baskets, and pushing flowers into people’s faces to urge them to buy. It would seem there were too many sellers and not enough buyers, which perhaps had something to do with the bizarre story that unfolded in Hackney in June of 1891.

One Friday, late in the afternoon, a man approached a young girl named Ethel Roundtree. He was carrying a small paper bag and asked, “Will you give these two buns to that woman standing on the corner selling flowers?” Ethel thought nothing of the request, and brought the bag to flower seller Jane Bass. The treats inside looked like Bath buns — normally sweet, sticky and delicious — but when Bass broke one open to have a taste, “some yellow stuff come out of it.... It smelt nasty.” Bass brought the buns to the Hackney police station, and an inspector had them analyzed by Dr. Henry Gould, who confirmed they contained phosphorus paste.

Ethel Roundtree helped the police find the man at a local pub. The “repulsive-looking elderly man” described by news papers was named Patrick Costello, whose wife sold flowers in the same area as Bass. Costello claimed, “I never bought no buns.” But on his person police discovered “a box of zinc ointment, some blue stone, and little box containing phosphorus paste marked ‘poison.’” He was sentenced to nine months in prison.

[redstuffs-ig]

i've just found out something super funny so apparently in the "Scum and Villainy: Case Files on the Galaxy's Most Notorious" canon book, written in part by Inspector Divo from the Clone Wars TV show (remember him? me neither) they had a section on Krayt's Claw with this to say: Sourced from Wookieepedia, the Star Wars wiki: Divo finally learned what had happened to Fett in the last year of the war when Sedra Hoxin, a constable from the prefect of Mos Eisley, a spaceport on Tatooine, contacted him. The constable sent Divo a holographic image touting the services of the "Krayt's Claw," a posse of bounty hunters stationed on Tatooine, among them Fett.

They had fucking ads.

This band of mercenaries, a bunch of them wanted, had fucking ads. Could you imagine browsing the HoloNet, watching space YouTube when your video of Twi'Lek dancers gets interrupted by an advertisement that goes "Hey, want a fucker dead? Need to guard a train carrying important cargo? We're your people! Dial Krayt's Claw at 066-22-1313, Mos Eisley Spaceport, Tatooine, and hire a team of professional bounty hunters for all your gunslinging needs"

i'd kill and murder to see this shit brought to life. was it like a stylized animation made by Latts, did they strap a camera to Highsinger or something, I NEED TO KNOW

[monstersflashlight]

So you've mentioned a lot about lore stuff with orcs and humans, but what about minotaurs and humans? Haritz from Helping Neighbors comes to mind since that's the first one we can safely assume is in the same universe with the family tree on Patreon.

Are orcs and minotaurs generally the same height?

Do monsters who find human mates develop anxiety about how they'll fit inside of their human mates, especially if they have a more fragile or maybe smaller human as their mate?

Were there any instances of those concerns within any of your stories from their universe, and how did they quell those worries?

Did they talk to someone or do research or is there like a doctor they can see to ask questions if a particularly large type of monster discovers they have a human mate?

I'd like to ask for more minotaur lore!

Do minotaurs and orcs have adjustments that can be made to their larger houses if they find a human mate, so that their mate can live more comfortably in such a big house?

Are minotaurs and bigger monsters scared to hurt humans since they're so much bigger and stronger or do they subconsciously know how to adjust their strength to others since it's a mixed society they live in?

For larger monsters that crossbred with humans, are their children smaller than the rest of their species and come out more human or do they come out purely monster? For example, if a minotaur had a kid with a human, would that kid be a smaller more humanesque minotaur or would it be a regular minotaur maybe with the humans hair color or eye color, or does it depend on the monster that bred with the human for the results of that child to be able to be either purely that monster parentage type or mixed?

Maybe something like an orc and human would mix for a half orc child, but a minotaur and a human would produce a minotaur child, basically.

Hi anon! First of all... wow. That's a lot to unpack. For everyone not on on Patreon, this answer is going to contain lots of comments on exclusive content, so be aware of that. I like to remind y'all that you can access pretty much all the lore exclusive of Patreon for only 2$/month!

Okay, now the answers, little by little:

(The family tree they mention is this one) I mentioned a lot about orcs and humans bc that's what I've been working on further developing bc I'm preparing GymSlut to become a full book in the next months (hopefully). As per minotaurs, I do have a ton of lore relating mintoaurs, too bc my brain never stops moving. Helping Neighbors, Gym Slut, Set up by the baby orc, Out of jealousy, Don't go baking my heart and pretty much all my longer stories (minus Alien Inspector) happen in the same world. They are all interconnected, that's why the female character in Set up by a baby orc talks to the female character in Helping neighbors (they are best friends, highly encourage ppl to suscribe to Patreon to read that one).

About height, they are the same height more or less if you don't count the horns. I imagine most orcs and minotaurs to be around 1.9m to 2.2m, so bigger than a general human but still possible, yk? If you add the horns, count about 20cm more for minotaurs. (I will try to add some kind of height graph at some point on Patreon, I think that'll be fun).

They DEF get anxious about it, and there's special toys to further stretch the humans before the act. If they are mates they are always a perfect fit at the end, but some humans need a bit of help to get there.

There weren't any instances of it YET. I think I will probably have those concers in my Dragon Fire Station story because I feel dragon x human would be the biggest size difference. But maybe further down the line of the world, we'll see some problems with that. I'd like to add some character with vaginismus bc I think that's not talked enough in books.

In the world I created I think there's been enough interaction between species to have some anatomy courses aviable for interspecies couples, and probably there's specialized areas in family planning, too. Especially because not all species can mix to have sex or babies.

I'm working on the minotaur lore for sure, the family tree is halfway there but I haven't had time yet, but it will come!

I mean, as somebody who is not that big, I think humans can adapt to bigger houses using stuff like stools to reach higher places, but also, I think monster partners would be more than happy to help them in any way they can.

The worry to hurt humans or other "weaker" species is always there, but I think that (again), they've been living among each other for so long that they just learn it as they go. There's always accidents, but not too frequent.

I think monster genetics is a very interesting topic, and I think for minotaurs in specific, kids would be born pretty much human, maybe with a few characteristics such as a tiny tail and hooves, and probably some super tiny horns. But size wise, I think minotaru-human babies would be the same as a big human baby (around 4-5kg), and once they are out, there would be differences in the way they grow, being hybrids bigger than normal humans. But there would be def variations depending on the species and genetics in general. (Wouldn't it be fun to do a monster's genetic guide? Having thoughts...)

[rebbilina]

Welcome to Cedar Shore

If you've ever driven up to Three Lakes, you might have been to Cedar Shore. After the miles and miles of freeway through the big pine forests, there's an exit and a sign advertising a town called Cedar Shore and gas station about a mile away. Having read up on the area before you left, you'd know that Cedar Lake is one of the lakes Three Lakes is named for, and assume Cedar shore must have gotten it's name from being on the shore of Cedar Lake. Without another chance of filling up you car, visiting the bathroom or getting a snack until you get to Three Lakes in two hours, you might decide to take the exit.

The first thing welcoming visitors to Cedar Shore is Michaelson's, the local gas station. Run by the couple that lives across from it, they offer an assortment of items travelers or people living in the area might need. Gas, snacks, magazines and some grocories. If your car actually decided to give up and you never even made it to the gas station, but had to be towed, you'd also end up here. Melanie Michaelson, one of the owners, is very handy and can fix up your car. If they're closed, there's a note on the noticeboard next to the entrance telling customers to come knock on the house across the street if it's an emergency. There aren't exactly any other places around for food or repairing, so they're happy to help.

In the summer, visitors often stop by Cedar Beach for a dip in the lake and to grill some hot dogs for lunch. It's honestly not the most fancy beach in the world, the lake bed is a little bit rocky, and don't tell any health and safety inspectors about the state of the changing rooms, but after a long car ride, it'll do. Locals often use this beach as a park and come for the playground, to play some football or to watch the waves during all seasons.

If fishing's more your speed, you might want to come to Tall Pine pond instead. Close to the edge of the forest, it's a fishing pond close to a particulary tall pine. It doubles as the local camping site, with a lot of beautiful nature walks close by.

Recently, things have started changing in Cedar Shore. Simcity is desperate for solutions to their housing problems and has started building and improving local roads and putting up plots of lands for sale in hope of encouraging people to move to the area. We'll have to see what these changes bring to the community.

---

And that's the introduction of my BAAC neighbourhood. As you might have realised, it's a bit of the deviation from the settlers storyline, but I'm really excited about this. I haven't finished building the homes (and the one home that's finished is covered up by the text in the picture of the map) or creating the settlers, but since all the community lots are done, I wanted to introduce the town. There'll be seven sims in the town to start off and I'll introduce them as soon as I'm done with them and their homes. The town also has the Pleasantview townie pool, because I like those townies and couldn't be bothered to find out how to add other townies.

I'm also gonna add Three Lakes as a destination from the start. Since only two hours away in the story and since my sims'll start off with cars, I imagined that they could drive there if they wanted to get away. I'm still making them pay airfare if they go, gas prices are no joke. Both Three Lakes and cars are probably a little "cheaty" in the challenge sense, but hey, story over challenge is my motto here. I don't know if that'll means Three Lakes townies can come to the town, but I think sims can bring them home from school or work. At least I think that's how Melody Tinker got to know Rosmarie Jitmakusol before any of my sims had been to Three Lakes in my megahood. Anyway, if they do, I just imagine that they're visiting for some reason.

Anyway, I'm gonna contine setting up, I just wanted to post the town. Really looking forward to making this town come to life.

Btw, the map is Sunnyside by bonfiar on MTS.

[misssharrington]

— ✧ ˚ · girl of steel !!

. . . ࿐ྂ ❝ one | the morning after ❞

wattpad | playlist

The creaking of the train echoed through the emptied carriage of the early morning. Passing lights of tunnels and the sunrise shone through the windows, softly coating my face in faint warmth. I sat in the seat closest to the door, resting my aching head against the glass as I took in my reflection.

My black bra was perfectly visible through my barely-there top. The mini-skirt I wore had ridden up more than you could possibly imagine, lace stockings unclipped and hanging around my shins. I held my black heeled pumps in my hands. Any makeup I had worn the night before was rubbed off, the only remaining remnants being the black eyeliner smeared over my eyes, and glitter along my cheekbones and all in my hair. I couldn't tell if it was the train glass making my reflection all distorted or what was leftover in my system.

I sat with my legs tucked into myself, fading in and out of sleep. I rubbed my eyes with my hands groggily, debating whether I should stay on this train instead of going home.

There were a handful of people in the same carriage as me. A middle aged man seemed to wear a perverted smirk as he ogled me. I stuck my middle finger up at him, and his expression turned sour. I laughed at his reaction. Across from me, a concerned mother was trying to keep her son as away from me as possible.

The carriage doors opened and a ticket inspector came walking through. I cursed under my breath and went to get up, but there were too few people around to distract him from my movement. 

"Ticket?" He asked me. 

"Um, yeah." I replied hesitantly, feeling around my non-existent pockets for a ticket.

The inspector stood impatiently in front of me, tapping his foot on the metal floor. The pervert smirked at my obvious trouble. 

"Miss, if you don't have a ticket, I'm going to have to fine you." He told me. 

"Please don't do that." I asked tiredly, my voice hoarse from last night. 

He sighed. "If you pay for a ticket now, I won't fine you."

I groaned. 

"What's the problem?" He asked. 

"I don't have any money." I told him, cringing my face at his reaction.

"I'm going to have to fine you." He told me sternly. 

"Listen, man-" I began, before I was interrupted. 

"I can pay!" A boy not so far from me intruded on the situation. 

"Young man, this is her problem, not yours." The ticket inspector told him. 

"No, really, it's okay. I can pay for her ticket." The boy insisted. 

The inspector looked between him and I suspiciously. I shrugged at him, just as confused as he was. 

He sighed. "Alright." 

The boy paid for the ticket, and the inspector begrudgingly left. The boy handed the ticket to me with an awkward smile. 

He looked about my age, with dark hair and a dorky lopsided smile. 

"Thanks..." I trailed off, waiting for his name. 

"Tim." He told me sweetly. 

"Tim. Thanks, again." I said. 

"No problem..." He waited for me to do the same. 

"Bianca." I told him. 

"Bianca." He repeated, the name sounding melodic on his lips. 

"That was really nice of you." I said to him truthfully.

"It was really no problem. Don't worry about it." He told me. 

We well into a silence next to each other. The only noise between us was the train bumping on the old tracks. 

"So," I began, "where are you headed?"

"School." Tim told me. 

"Cool." I nodded my head. "Me too."

He tilted his head in slight confusion. "Does your school not have a dress code?"

"Watch." I told him, standing up. I put on the jumper I was carrying with me, which covered my whole chest. I pulled my skirt down so it wasn't so short, clipped my stockings back, and put my shoes on. 

"Ta da!" I said in a sing songy voice, my appearance now more presentable. 

"Cool party trick." He said, grinning. 

"Thanks!" I smiled back. 

The train pulled into my station. I felt a pang of annoyance that my conversation with Tim had to be cut short. 

"This is me." I said. 

"Oh." He hummed lowly. "Well, have fun at school."

"See you round Tim. I owe you. For the ticket, I mean." I told him, smirking. 

"Yeah, you do." He retorted, a glint in his eyes. 

I chucked to myself, stepping off of the train and into the dingy station. As it began to leave, I looked back to the carriage. He was looking back at me. I sucked in my cheeks, watching the train leave, butterflies in my stomach. I shook my head at myself, snapping out of my own silly thoughts.

As I entered the school's office, the lady who worked there didn't lift her head to acknowledge me. She continued to tap her long-nailed fingers on her keyboard in front of her. I cleared my throat, and she looked up. 

"Hi." I waved at her innocently. 

"You're late." She told me blankly. 

"I know, I'm here to sign in." I told her.

"You can only sign in if you have a reason to be late." She said. 

"I had a doctors appointment." I said, lying through my teeth.

"Did you now?" She replied sarcastically. 

"Yeah?" I said, unsure of how well this was going. 

She said nothing, and handed me a plastic ziplock bag. 

"Aw, why?" I moaned at her.

"You're late. Again." She ground through her teeth, tapping her pen on her desk in annoyance.

I huffed as I emptied out my pockets. I put my phone and lipgloss into the bag, and handed it back to the lady. She raised her eyebrow at me, and crossed her arms. 

"Fine." I sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter I had hidden in my bra. I put them in the bag and sealed it up. The lady snatched it out of my hands. 

"Collect it at the end of the day." She told me, before turning her back on me, and continuing to do her work. 

I rolled my eyes at her, and walked to class. 

The hallways were empty and dim. Lifeless is the word I would use. This was Bakerline Prep, a reform school for troubled teens. I had been expelled from school a couple of months ago, and admitted into this institution not long after. It was a prison for sixteen year olds - literally. Everything was clinical. All the rooms were white. All the desks were metal. Any sharp edges were harm proofed. There weren't even locks on bathroom doors. 

I came up to the classroom, and peeked through the glass of the door. I debated running away and hiding in a closet somewhere. Sighing, I opened the door with a creak. 

"Bianca, you're late." The teacher told me. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I grumbled, and made my way to my seat through a maze of sullen faces. 

The teacher continued to speak, and I sunk down in my seat, overcome with boredom. I hung my head backwards, looking at the boy behind me. 

"Hi." I whispered to Luke. 

He leaned forward, smirking at me. 

"You should be paying attention." Luke teased. "You've already missed the first half of the lesson."

"You should be paying attention." I said. "Otherwise you'll get held back another year."

He kicked my chair and I giggled. 

"Pass these around the classroom." The teacher began. "Please write your name and age. Read through and tick the boxes of what sounds interesting to you. We will do our hardest to get you placements according to your preferences." He droned on, reading the lesson plan from a sheet of paper through his thickly rimmed glasses. 

The sheet of paper was passed back to me. I wasn't paying enough attention to know what was happening. I looked back to Luke for help. 

"Placement year forms." He told me. I continued to stare at him, not knowing what that was. 

"Work experience." He simplified it. I made an 'o' shape with my mouth, understanding. 

I read the form in front of me, tapping my pen on the metal desk. The chairs and desks were firmly screwed into the ground, so no one can try and throw them. I learned the hard way. 

I began to fill in all the forms. Name: Bianca Romano. Age: 16.

I put my hand up, and the teacher came over. 

"Can I have a pen reader?" I asked him. 

"Yeah, sure." He told me, and handed me one from his desk drawer, with some headphones.

I plugged them in and dragged the reader over each word. It repeated them into the headphones, reading the words out to me, rather than me trying to struggle through my dyslexia. 

Write reports. No.

Work in an office. No. 

Work with animals. I ticked that box.

Take care of children. Hell no.

Act in a TV show or movie. I didn't tick it. I wouldn't like those many cameras on me all at once. 

Write for a newspaper. Newspaper? I stared at that option, hesitantly ticking the box. I didn't even think people read newspapers anymore. Maybe the workload would be minimal. 

I made my way through the rest of the list, leaving the remaining boxes blank. These were all terrible, but I didn't expect any respectively good companies to want troubled children with criminal records working for them. 

I looked around once I was done, realising I was the last one in the empty classroom. I stood up and handed the paper to the teacher, and left. 

"Hey." I heard someone call me. I turned around, to see Luke following me into the school garden. 

"Hey yourself." I said, sitting on one of the tables outside, resting my feet on the seat attached to it. 

He came to stand in front of me, and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. Luke offered me one, and I accepted. He lit it for me with a grin. I eyed him cautiously. He was tall, and handsome, and he had a sharp smile that cut like a knife. 

"What did you do to your hair?" Luke asked, brushing his fingers through my blue streaked blonde locks. 

"I dyed it." I told him, bored. 

"It looks... distinctive." He struggled to find the words. 

"Thanks." I said dismissively, having no care for his opinion. 

"What did you pick for your placement?" He asked me, switching the conversation.

"Animals and newspaper." I told him. 

"Newspaper?" Luke laughed at me. 

"What?" I asked.

"Why would you pick newspaper?" He asked, confused.

"Like Sex In The City!" I defended myself.

"You know that involves, like, actually doing something." Luke teased me.

"No, really? I thought I would tick the box and suddenly the newspaper fairies would appear and carry me to an office far far away." I replied sarcastically. He rolled his eyes at me. 

"I didn't realise I don't meet your standards for work placements." I told him, feigning innocence. "God forbid I'm even seen with you in public." I said, getting up to leave. 

"C'mon, I was only messing around." He said, moving in front of me so I don't leave. I tilted my head at him, annoyed. He brushed his hands over my shoulders, down to my waist. 

"I'm only playing, don't be mad." Luke said charmingly. His cropped brown hair glinted more auburn in the midday sunlight. 

I gathered the material of his shirt in my hands and pulled him forward, so his face was close to mine. 

"Don't be fucking rude." I told him sweetly.

I put out my cigarette on the sleeve of his jacket, and went to leave for the cafeteria. I felt my stomach begin to rumble in hunger. Luke stayed where he was, but gave me some money for food. 

"Drop me home later?" I asked, fluttering my eyelashes. 

"Always." He told me. 

I smiled, pleased with his answer. I wasn't exactly asking. 

I thanked Luke with a kiss for driving me all the way home. He had asked to come up to my room, but I hadn't let him. It wasn't that I didn't like him - I was just embarrassed of what my life would look like compared to his. Luke was from the Luthor family - his father was the CEO of LexCorp. They shit gold. 

And me? They wouldn't touch my gold with a ten foot pole. 

It was something I didn't want to think about. Luke lived with his father in a penthouse apartment that had more bathrooms than I could count on one hand. And I lived in one small flat with my family of eight, with three bedrooms between us. 

I made my way up the stairs to our apartment, and bumped into Camilla, my younger sister. 

"Where are you going?" I asked her, eyeing her blue and yellow cheer uniform.

"I have a pep rally." She said, brushing her curly brown hair out of her face, barely looking at me. 

The sound of Luke's expensive car leaving the street echoed through the tattered building doors.  We watched the car drive away through the glass. Camilla scoffed at his obnoxiousness.

"Why do you even hang out with him?" She scoffed. "Oh, that's right. He's rich, and single, and male. Of course you'd throw yourself at him." My sister smirked at me viciously. 

I held back my anger at her comment. "Good luck at your pep rally, Cami. And good luck on the top of the pyramid. Hopefully you don't slip, fall and break your neck." I told her sweetly, venom lacing my tone. 

"Whatever." She said, storming off down the stairs. 

I arrived at our door, and knocked, not having my keys. No one answered. I tried the door handle, and it was unlocked. If we ever get robbed, we'd probably deserve it. But I pity the robber that comes into our apartment looking for anything nice at all. 

I walked into the kitchen, sighing when I saw Tina, my older sister. 

"You look like shit." She told me, eyeing my appearance like a vulture. 

"Not all of us can be perfect like you." I told her, looking her up and down. Her hair was straightened, dark silky waves falling down her back. Her makeup was perfectly done, and her workwear was pristine. 

"Where were you last night?" She asked me. 

I got a bowl out of a cupboard and poured myself some cereal. I huffed when there was only scraps left in the bag for me to have. 

"I was at church." I told her sarcastically.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at my lack of an answer.

"I ran into Cami in the hallway." I mentioned, pouring some milk into the bowl. Tina nodded uninterested. "She still hates me." I continued. 

"You did have sex with her boyfriend." She bit back. 

I slammed the milk down on the counter angrily, splitting the bottom of the plastic bottle. 

"He is not her boyfriend!" I shouted. "He never was!"

"Jesus, Bianca-" Tina began.

"I had sex with someone she wanted to and she's still sore I got there first, and now she's a massive bitch to me every second of my life and everyone defends her!" I continued to shout. 

Tina stared at me, quiet. "Having tantrums about your mistakes won't fix things." She told me lowly. 

I sucked my cheeks in with anger, pursing my lips and sticking my middle finger up at her. She rolled her eyes at my behaviour, ignoring me. I turned to storm out of the room. 

"Your cereal?" Tina reminded me. 

"Why the fuck would I want the scraps left for the least favourite child?" I retorted, hurt lacing my words. 

I got to my room and slammed the door shut, loudly. 

I was so overcome with anger, I grabbed a pillow from my bed and screamed into it. I smashed it with my fists until I became tired, and lay on my bed in defeat. Everything was so shit. The world was tinted in a permanent grey. I didn't know how much longer I could take it.

remember to like and reblog !!

[witchofthesouls]

The last option for the Decepticons/Autobots to discover a Gadget is hilariously on point. No one but the whackiest inspector around would stumble upon actual aliens on their break but also ruin the enemy faction's cover. Spike just staring when the bots mention the encounter before he shows them the Inspector Gadget movie.

Prowl being friends with a Gadget just gives me Good Cop/Bad Cop vibes as the latter definitely isn't that threatening in an interrogation. Plus Go Go Gadget Toothpaste Slick is a funnier possible way to deter the science bots cause its sticky and feels weird. Also something a Cybertronian shouldn't try to rub off their optics haphazardly cause it smears.

A Gadget could happen in Aligned, Animated, and Earthspark. The latter being in the same (sorta) universe as G1 so it's a bigger possibility. For Aligned, it's because of Rescue Bots side since the whackiest shit tends to happen there, like Optimus going T-Rex, so a Gadget being made plus ending up entangled in Prime's shenanigans can happen.(Prime deserves an extra dose of weirdness.)

Finally Animated is another possibility cause the human villains being insanely diverse from serious to absurd leads to the possibility of a Gadget hero. Plus Captain Fanzone as their police chief makes it funnier. The poor man knows what shenanigans their rookie gets into and them accidentally kicking Sentinel in the bearings because of a glitch is expected for him.

Exactly! Just imagine the resident Autobot-aligned humans going, "Are you sure? Did Megatron throw too hard? Ratchet needs to look at the dent in your helm."

Meanwhile, the Decepticons are furiously searching for such a terrible and terrific monstrosity! Megatron is howling that "abomination" under his command!

Prowl and Inspector friendship because both of them understand how to be an outsider from their own kind from specialized equipment and situations outside their hands/choices. Prowl helps the poor Inspector from being shanghaied by the science 'bots. They become known as Prowl's "squishy new bird" since the Inspector is generally found perched on the mech's shoulder or using the propellor to buzz around him.

The Inspector is very much aware of how much their supplies are written off by taxpayers' dollars. If they're not on the job or in danger, they don't want to utilize the armed gadgets. At least the propellor can use gasoline. It's awkward to fuel as a station, so they have an empty fuel container they lug around on vacation or their downtime in the car trunk.

Ngl, I thought of TFA as well, but there's a whole lot of dark implications in that universe and I wanted to keep it light-hearted fun. Plus, you would think with all that sci-fi, futuristic stuff going on, there would be humans with cybernetic prosthetics and a lot of other supplemental or augmentation gear. Something from I, Robot, Cyberpunk Edgerunners, My Hero Academia, or Overwatch. Having an Inspector Gadget wouldn't be so far-fetched or as fun and hilarious.

Same reasons why TFP/Aligned and Earthspark were out as well.

[greentrapped]

Imagine if you will: A land of ruins - a fallen civilization rests upon these plains and hills. The ruins themselves are of stone and metal, char and rubble, grass and dirt. Hints of gold among the cracked arches, animals wandering through the cities long fallen, trees and flowers flourishing inside and around the collapsed walls...

But this land is not forgotten. Wander long enough and you'll likely meet someone - robed, masked, short and stout folk exploring, dismantling and salvaging whatever they consider useful - always in a group, save for the rare outlier that seems to do something entirely different - hunting.

When I say masked, I don't mean a white, porcelain mask you'd see on actors in a tragic opera, I mean something that looks like a mix between a gas mask and an astronaut helmet. A rounded visor and an air filter, with attached tubes connecting to a machine on the wearer's back - wires, lights, indicators and an air tank. Yet just when you think it might be some kind of life support - you see one of them grab the other's mask and rip it off, cackling with delight whilst the prank victim complains and puts it back on. Turns out they're not vital, but are merely making the people more comfortable up here - a sign of long days of work.

Who are these people? Well... They're Dwarves.

Explore a bit more and you'll find several checkpoints guarding heavily armored doors - entrances to their civilization. Go through and an expansive network of underground tunnels will appear before you - sturdy and industrial. Some trucks move along the roads, hauling salvage down below, others, completely empty, are followed by vans with crews wearing the same uniforms as the folk above - more people heading out to begin their shift. They put on their masks after the inspectors make sure everything is in order (a process that takes around 20 seconds on average, if we don't take into account some casual banter between them).

Meanwhile, some checkpoints serve a different purpose - they're not for the working crews, but instead the outsiders - depending on where in the region you are, you'll see either a transport or two, or heavy traffic through wide, arch-like gates leading to the surface - All of them inspected right before the tunnel roofs conceal the skies above (or the other way around, if they're leaving). These range from simple civilian transports to large, industrial lorries hauling all sorts of goods across the border.

Let's go deeper, then! As the roads go deeper, some of them split, whilst others merge. The smaller off-shoots lead to all manner of areas, though they aren't anything novel or impressive typically. Fuel stations, Garages, guard stations - the like. The bigger roads naturally lead to bigger locations - and more important by association. Moving up on the hierarchy from 'Jim's Wheels' workshops and 'Roadside Upside' stores we find villages and farms where hardy crops and adapted livestock is grown for produce, towns and mines where precious metals and fuels are extracted and later shipped to cities and industrial areas where the raw product is turned and refined into products with quality sought after across and outside the entire continent - for it is of Dwarven origin.

When you want absolute assurance in the quality of materials - you turn to Dwarves. When you want the most reliable equipment - you turn to Dwarves. When you want manpower for construction of critical projects - you turn to Dwarves.

When you want hard work done right, you turn to Dwarves.

You turn to Talamrab.

Talamrab, With it's expansive underground megalopolises and workregions, is a nation of hard-working, skilled folk who make up for their height and with expertise tenfold. You come here to find people who were driven underground long ago by their masters, elves. Their class was deemed unworthy of the surface, for the sun was for the beautiful, elegant nobles and their foreign guests. Over time they adapted to full lives in the depths - tolerance to cold, physiques forged by cave threats and hard work.

At one point they had enough.

Their numbers were bigger, as was their strength and discontent. In a manner of weeks the uprising proved successful as noble, now disgraced Elves were exiled from their former kingdom while the poor, now empowered Dwarves claimed the kingdom they once built for their oppressors. They didn't wish to move back up onto the surface though, spare for a few. Instead, they grew accustomed to the underground - finding it much more comfortable and promising.

Centuries later, those promises held up.

[mooseyspooky]

A mindless ramble about Maudlin Street for @wolfstrong

So 'Late Night, Maudlin Street' is the sixth song on Moz' first solo album Viva Hate, an album Moz was forced to write contractually by the record label. An album that had to credit Johnny even though he didn't write anything on it - due to stipulations in the contract.

Maudlin Street is the last song on Side One of the vinyl. Right before it comes 'Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together,' which refers to the film Angel, Angel Down We Go from 1969. The plot of which is listed on Wikipedia as: "The overweight, emotionally troubled daughter of an affluent but brittle Hollywood couple becomes involved with a charismatic rock singer and his friends. The singer proceeds to seduce and manipulate her entire family." I find that incredibly interesting since, as we all know, Moz did actually admit to writing Angel, Angel about Johnny.

And I don't think it's possible to listen to Late Night, Maudlin Street without Angel, Angel. I firmly believe these two songs are a conversation - where Angel, Angel is Johnny directly speaking to Moz. Whether this was a real conversation that happened after the break up or an imagined one, I don't know.

The reason I'm so personally set on this with no facts to back it up is because in Angel, Angel, Johnny says: "Don't take your life tonight." And in Maudlin Street, it feels like we hear the other side of the conversation from Moz: "I took strange pills, but I never meant to hurt you." I added this to the original post with all the songs, but it's important to repeat it here.

Another important thing to remember is that this song was written maybe 2 to 3 months after Johnny left in June 1987, maybe around October or November 1987 (hence 'winter coming, winter push on'). This would have been an incredibly tough time for Moz, and there's been rumors talked about on Moz Solo that say he actually did attempt to take his own life around this time, though these rumors are not verified and only reported by a second or thirdhand source.

Some parts of Angel, Angel may be Moz speaking to Johnny ("I will be here, believe me"), but I think the central refrain is definitely Johnny speaking to him.

Maudlin Street itself is an interesting mix of things both real and imagined. There are book quotes (Elizabeth Smart, By the Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept: 'Inspector? Do you not believe in love?'), movie like imagery, and childhood experiences like the 1972 miners strike that led to power cuts (Mozzipedia page 272, Simon Goddard): 'don't leave your torch behind, 1972, you know.' Then a massive amount of the song was rewritten for a handful of live performances from 2002, and oftentimes Moz sings songs live how he truly wants them to be heard.

We also, of course, have parts of the 'conversation' Moz is having with Johnny (again, it could be an imagined conversation. It might not have been one that actually happened): 'I sleep with a picture of you by the bed,' 'truly I do love you,' 'we crept through a park,' 'but you without clothes...'

Many of the lines echo sentiments in other Johnny songs. In 'You Must Please Remember': 'you, too beautiful. I can't look.' Then in 'Stretch Out and Wait' there's icy cold hands leading the way (you without clothes). 'Suedehead' refers to Moz' diary being in his room - and oftentimes Moz glues in images or draws portraits when he's writing as we saw in the Robert Mackie letters, thus 'a picture of you by the bed' -> 'So many illustrations.'

And of course: 'I could list the detail of everything you ever wore or said, or how you stood that day.' Passionsjustlikemine notes Moz changed this to 'how you stood on the day' in the few live performances there were. This is undoubtedly in reference to the day they both met in 1982 - and, interestingly enough, Johnny listed exactly what they were both wearing in Set the Boy Free in 2016. Which I find so fascinating.

Mozzipedia also mentions this quote from Sandie Shaw on page 218: "Shaw remembers first hearing the track during the making of the album when Morrissey turned and caught her eye 'with such a pained expression...I cried, he cried. I sensed his fear and I felt so frightened for him.'"

All of this to say, basically, I feel like these two songs together combine to make a longer narrative. Where Johnny is trying to help Moz not fall apart and Moz is lost or maybe even trapped in his own memories - because the pain of reality is too overwhelming ('every hag/slag waving me on', 'i never stole a happy hour around here'). And so memories of childhood, of driving in the van, of creeping through the park are all preferable to the actual conversation they're meant to be having.

[cursedreverie1945]

Theodor Scherer was a German lieutenant general and divisional commander in the Wehrmacht during World War II.

In July 1908, he enlisted as cadet officer in the Bavarian Army which served as part of the Imperial German Army. He was commissioned as lieutenant in the 12th Bavarian Infantry Regiment in 1910. He fought in World War I, and was captured by the British in July 1916 during the Battle of the Somme. Upon returning to his home country after the war, he was not retained in Germany's post-war military, the Reichswehr.In 1920, Scherer became a police officer in Bavaria. In 1935, he rejoined the German Army, and was appointed Lieutenant-Colonel.

By the start of World War II, Scherer had risen to Colonel and operated as a regimental commander at the Western Front. He led an infantry assault during the Wehrmacht's crossing of the Marne in June 1940. In March 1941, he was entrusted with the security of Adolf Hitler's headquarters.

As Soviet partisans increasingly became an issue at the Eastern Front, Scherer was placed in command of 281st Security Division in October 1941, and tasked with destroying local partisan forces. At the time, the 281st Security Division was stationed in Kholm in the occupied Soviet Union. The security divisions were not frontline combat formations, but were posted to the rear area and engaged in eliminating any form of resistance, real or imagined, including partisans, communists, Red Army stragglers, Jews and Roma.

Based on the 281st Security Division's records, journalist Johann Althaus characterized it as a typical unit of the war of annihilation, more experienced in killing civilians and eliminating badly armed opponents than fighting battles. In January 1942, the division, along with other Wehrmacht and police units, was attacked by partisans at Kholm. Scherer had not yet arrived at the town by the start of the attack, and thus took control of the Security Division elements and other troops in the area to relieve Kholm. Even after the Germans had secured the town itself, they remained encircled by the Red Army in what was called the "Kholm Pocket". For the duration of the pocket, Scherer became the chief commander of the encircled force, initially about 3,500 strong. Historian Robert Forczyk characterized him as a "soldier's soldier" who was able to motivate his troops even under "extreme conditions".

His force was gradually reinforced by other Wehrmacht units which were in retreat in the face of a Soviet offensive. "Kampfgruppe Scherer" thus grew to about 6,000 men. He repeatedly attempted to coordinate with other German forces to facilitate a breakthrough to relief his troops, while countering Soviet assaults and organizing the evacuation of wounded soldiers. Scherer also hoped for aerial support, requesting assistance by paratroopers on 19 February 1942 as his force was close to being overwhelmed. However, the Wehrmacht could only spare a token force; despite this, the Soviets eventually reduced their attacks. On 20 February 1942, Scherer was decorated with the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. Althaus argued that the medal was probably supposed to lessen Scherer's anger about the lack of support for his force. Scherer's force was finally relieved on 5 May 1942. About 5,500 survivors of the pocket were also decorated with the newly created Cholm Shield; it has been alleged that Scherer himself designed the medal, although this is unconfirmed.

Scherer was subsequently appointed commander of the 34th and then the 83rd Infantry Division, as well as promoted to major general. At the time of him assuming command of the 83rd Infantry Division in November 1942, the unit had been mostly encircled during the Battle of Velikiye Luki. Scherer was located outside this pocket and attempted to save his unit, but the 83rd Infantry Division was mostly destroyed in January 1943. In April 1944, Scherer was made Inspector of Coastal Defences for the Eastern Front, a position he held until the end of the war. By this point, he had risen to Generalleutnant. He was killed in a car accident at Ludwigsburg on 17 May 1951.

If you are wondering about the pic with him having a beard, he was assigned to cold weather areas, thus the beard.

[haliotropes]

quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Twenty: ludo finitum.

Chapter Nineteen

Finally, Anora gets closure. finishing the game.

Two days later, James's sentencing is postponed due to insufficient evidence. Days after that, due to backroom arguments and political strains, sentencing is postponed indefinitely. James will sit in a prison cell for days, for weeks, months- how long? Will it go on until they forget him, and then is it really justice?

John tells Anora not to worry. Sherlock tells her that he won't let the forgetting happen. She knows there's nothing he can do. There's nothing any of them can do, except try to move on. And while it seems that Sherlock, Irene, and John have made that look easy enough, every day Anora feels as though she's made some grievous error. There's no way she could've been any more prepared for that day in court, nothing more she could have said to make her case, or weaken James's. She told the truth as it is.

Yes, human tragedies and human judgment indeed.

Human error, too.

Because, on a particularly early, freezing morning in early January, Anora bundles up in her coat, scarf, and gloves, and quietly departs from 221b Baker Street. She quickly catches a carriage and makes for Scotland Yard. Surely this will get around to someone, but she's hoping that the early hour will save her some time. 

When she arrives, she asks to speak to Lestrade, which is difficult enough, given his busy schedule and propensity to make things needlessly complicated, but eventually he finds her in the waiting area.

“Miss Leeds. Awful early to be making calls, isn't it?”

They don't shake hands and there's no proprietary greetings. Anora doesn't mind this.

“I need a favor,” she says. Lestrade chuckles. 

“Yes, I see why you and Holmes get on like a house on fire.”

“I've never asked you for anything. We've hardly ever spoken unless there's a battle raging in the background. Could you at least hear me out, please?”

Lestrade’s facetious smile dwindles and he stands with his hands on his hips. Anora takes his silence as an allowance to continue.

“It's a personal favor. I… I feel as though I didn't get closure with him. All I want is a conversation.”

Lestrade studies her.

“I'll have to search you for weapons.”

“I'm tired of him beating death, so I'm not going to embarrass myself by trying again.”

Lestrade likely doesn't miss her inclusion of the word ‘again’, but he allows it to slip by. 

“You're not worried how it'll look?”

“They've made their decision; they're just toiling over it at this point. They've cast their judgment on me- faster than his, I imagine.”

“You think yourself rather important, don't you? Enough to have some sort of reputation.”

Anora sighs and stands. “Yes, Inspector. I do think that because it's true. My actions can have dire consequences and I'm aware of them. Just as you. However, I don't plan on wielding that for personal gain, so let me speak with him or don't. But please, let's not waste each other's mornings.”

Lestrade takes a long moment to think, working his jaw, staring her so uncomfortably in the face that Anora has to fight the urge to look away. But she doesn't. 

“Alright. I'll give you a few minutes. He's due for his walk, anyhow.”

Lestrade begins to walk further into the station, so Anora follows.

“His walk?”

“You and I are both well aware that I am not the ultimate voice when it comes to decisions, and those who are, are particularly partial to bribes. I'll say this for the professor: he spends his money on strange favors.”

Anora thinks to ask him what he means, but realizes that she'll likely soon find out.

He leads her back into the holding cells, which Anora is still vaguely familiar with, given that she had spent an afternoon here with Sherlock. But the cell on the end, the larger one, is not sparse like the others. It's furnished nicely, almost comically so, with a proper cot, a desk and oil lamp, and a small stack of books. At the desk sits James, writing intently. Anora watches him for the brief moment she has while he's in this state. Unaware. Like a predator vulnerable in a zoo, unknowing or uncaring that it's being watched. 

Lestrade finds a guard. “Let him out early. He's got a visitor. Keep an especially close eye on him.”

The guard nods. James finishes his writing, replaces the pen to its font, and blows lightly on the paper to dry the ink, before folding it and placing it carefully within one of the books.

“Professor?” The guard calls. “We're taking you out early. You've got a visitor.”

Anora realizes that Lestrade has been lingering next to her and she wonders why. When James retrieves his coat from a hook and turns to put it on, he sees her. He freezes. For the first time, he's caught off guard. Anora takes small pride in that.

“Well,” he says, finally slipping his other arm into the coat sleeve. “Good morning, dear Anora.”

At this, Lestrade nods and leans in to Anora. 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

He suddenly sounds very serious and as he departs Anora realizes why he had stayed. He wanted to see how James would react, whether he'd be composed or volatile. It isn't a well thought out consideration, since James plays any emotion close to his chest, but it's a consideration nonetheless.

The guard goes to the cell door and unlocks it a bit too casually for Anora's liking, considering the man inside. James approaches her cooly; she's still at the opposite end of the row of cells. However, instead of his trademark smirk to make her feel small, he offers her his arm. 

“Shall we go for a walk, my dear?”

With great caution and a look at the guard, who's keeping a safe distance with an intense gaze, Anora loops her arm around James's and they walk from the holding area to the yard. Snow coats the ground but regardless, birds hop around and settle on the benches. Once they're out in the brittle, grey cold, the guard clears his throat.

“The birdseed, sir,” he says, and hands James a small bag. He accepts it with a grin.

“Yes, thank you Benjamin.”

They begin at a leisurely pace, though there isn't much to see, and Anora keeps her eyes either firmly ahead of her or on the ground. Eventually they come to one of the benches, which James brushes the snow from before they sit. He uncurls the top of the bag and scoops birdseed into his hands, then sprinkles it onto the snowy ground. Surprisingly fast, pigeons and doves flock to their feet to peck at their breakfast. Anora finally finds her words.

“I didn't know you liked birds.”

James looks at her and crinkles his brow.

“I never took you to feed birds?”

All Anora can do is shake her head. James hums in thought before he continues. He offers her the bag. 

“I'm not hungry,” she quips, and it feels so strange coming out of her mouth, like an unexpected knee jerk or a forgotten instinct. James laughs loudly, enough to make her jump, and his breath clouds the air. 

“I've missed that,” he says before rolling the top of the bag to seal it again. He sets it beside him and clasps his hands together. He leans forward to watch the birds, his gaze occasionally flicking up to take in the morning London sky. 

“What do you hear?” He asks. Anora shudders in the cold.

“Nothing. I don't know what their decision will be. I have no means of guessing.”

“What do you hope?”

Anora looks at him and frowns.

“That's not fair.”

His eyes look over her face before returning to the birds.

“No, I suppose it's not. Forgive me.”

As if it were easy.

When James places a hand on her knee, Anora starts and looks over her shoulder at the guard, who has remained stationed at the door.

“Oh, I pay him enough to turn a blind eye, but I have no intention of hurting you.”

That doesn't ease Anora's blanking mind or racing heart. His gloved hand lifts and sits atop where hers are clasped in her lap. He leans in and she forces herself not to be afraid. He looks at their hands as he speaks.

“Do you still love me in spite of it?”

Anora, somehow, isn't shocked by the question. 

“Do you, with me, in turn?”

“Would my answer matter, since I am now the one with considerably less to lose?”

“And I more?”

He nods.

“Well, then would my answer feel genuine, since I have to be calculated? Since I have more to lose? Could you trust me?”

His other hand finds the side of her face and gently turns her head to him. 

“Yes, I could. You always knew how to weigh risks.”

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. Anora allows the cold to sting her eyes.

“We're never going to see each other again,” she says. “Whether they hang you or not. That's a decision I'm making.”

He nods in understanding. She hadn't expected him to fight.

“Alright.”

Anora feels like she has more to say but she can't think of it. In her silence, he carefully leans closer and gently kisses her on the forehead. That's as far as he tries to go and Anora is grateful. For the remainder of their final time together, in the frigid cold with the birds cooing around them, she allows him to hold her hand.

A few days later, they have a small, belated birthday gathering for Sherlock. It's the residents of 221 Baker Street, the Watsons, and Mycroft. Anora has Monty driven over, and after Sherlock blows out on the candles on the cake that Mrs. Hudson had baked, Anora brings him in. Mrs. Hudson gasps, Irene claps in glee, and Sherlock stares. Monty sits in the center of the room, thumping his tail against the floor, and looks around. 

“Hey,” Anora whispers to him, and leads him to Sherlock. “Here's your new caretaker. His name is Sherlock, and he seems strange, but he's actually very kind. Sherlock, this is Monty.”

Monty and Sherlock stare at each other. Lizzie, sitting on John's lap, makes a happy sound once she realizes the fluffy dog.

“Well,” Sherlock extends a hand to Monty. “What do you say, Monty?”

Monty lets out a little “bwoof” and presses his shaggy head into Sherlock's awaiting hand. 

An air of celebration takes over the room and Sherlock ends up sitting on the floor with his new companion. Lizzie gets passed to Anora, who cradles her in her lap. She's a little over a month old now and is watching Monty, lifting her arms but keeping her fists curled. 

Likely noticing the warm scene between Anora and Lizzie, Mycroft smiles and stirs the cup of tea in his hands.

“So, Anora, what comes next for you?”

Anora smiles shyly and allows Lizzie to grab onto her fingers.

“Actually…” She looks to Sherlock, who is too absorbed with who is now his new best friend to notice her hesitation. “Obviously I'm going to finish my degree, but Sherlock, Irene, and I were discussing career plans. We thought we'd collaborate on a new agency.”

“Holmes, Adler, and Leeds: Investigative Agency,” Irene says. “I'm not sold on the name, though.”

John looks at Sherlock in surprise. “How much of a fight did you put up?”

“Fight? It was my idea,” Sherlock says and returns to his chair. Monty wanders to Irene now, who scratches behind his ears affectionately. “What's better than having one person do the boring work? Two people. That means that whenever I want to steal you from Mary, we can run amuck.”

Anora shoots Sherlock a mean look. “No, we agreed that the fun would be shared amongst all, and you will be forced to learn the logistical aspects.” She turns back to John. “Honestly, I don't know how you managed it all alone for years.”

“He's just that fond of me,” Sherlock quips. 

The happy chatter in the room nearly drowns out the sound of the doorbell, but Anora still catches it. Mrs. Hudson begins to stand but Anora waves her away.

“I'll get it,” she says as she hands Lizzie to Mary. Straightening out her skirt, Anora goes downstairs to the front door. When she opens it, a quick burst of cold air makes its way inside, and at the door stands a young courier.

“Afternoon, ma'am,” he says, his cheeks red from the cold. He's young, but more than that, he seems nervous, fidgety.

“Afternoon,” she greets warily. “May I help you?”

The young man thrusts an envelope towards her.

“It's the verdict, ma'am. Detective Holmes requested it be delivered here as soon as it was determined.”

Anora's eyes stick to the envelope and it isn't until the young man moves his hand again that she gets the idea to take it from him. Her fingers move like stone as she holds the paper in her hands. She thanks him, he bows quickly before sprinting away. She closes the door. Sits on the steps.

To 221b Baker Street

Attn: Detective Holmes, Ms. Leeds, Ms. Adler, Doctor Watson, Mycroft Holmes

Anora almost considers herself lucky that it was her who answered the door. If it had been anyone else, maybe they'd have immediately opened it and read its contents. Then, she'd have to hear, have to know. But on the steps, with the featherlight envelope in her hands, Anora only stares at it.

She must be missing for some time, because the stairs creak behind her and she turns to see Sherlock coming around the landing. He looks from her face to the letter in her lap.

“I didn't know you requested to have it sent,” she says quietly. Sherlock leans against the bannister.

“I thought it would be easier if we all heard together, at once. No room for surprise or being blindsided. Have you opened it?”

Anora shakes her head. “No. Honestly, I don't want to. Not right now, at least. It's not going away, so it can wait. Is that alright with you? If we just let ourselves have this time?”

Sherlock lends a hand to help Anora up and she takes it. She extends the letter to him, but he shakes his head.

“You hold onto it. We'll read it later. Yes, I think we can have this time. You're right. It's not going to change.”

Anora nods mutely and slips the letter into the pocket of her skirt. Sherlock puts a hand on her shoulder, hesitates, then pulls her into and embrace. Any pride and inhibitions gone, Anora presses her face to the front of his shirt and locks her arms around him. 

“No matter what happens, we'll live on. We'll be here, together. We'll be safe and life will go on.”

She nods against him. After a few more moments, once she feels calm enough, they pull apart. When they return upstairs, John watches them in curiosity and Irene tries to pry information from Sherlock, who gives her a quick explanation. She stops asking after that.

They'll reckon with it. Whether it's a prison sentence or a hanging, it'll find a way to creep into Anora's veins and her mind and her heart, and it'll hurt, but she also knows that she has a room of friends- of family. Anora begins to recognize that what Irene had said was correct. No matter what happens, she has them. And for the first time since Joseph's death, Anora Leeds finally feels at home.

[avoteforme]

okey so it requires some stretch of the imagination but i am thinkin about if phryne was 1920s detective inspector fisher (yis a v small part of me is like 'historically inaccurate' and a v big part of me is like no collingwood kid would EVER but for reasons of hotness pls follow me)

the reasons of hotness- she'd refuse to abide by whatever di dress code there is and the force/comish would unofficially 'allow' it bc of her SPECTACULAR solve rate, and she'd absolutely swagger about the station and be brilliant and run rings around all the other di and melbourne would be the safest city in australia and the especial safest for women (that last one is just- all of the 😍)