#Or “hidden bar” as they are usually called in my city

[ludoka]

They have given me information that there is a Bar called "Dr. Jekyll" in my city. Now I feel obliged to go 😂😂

I read the menu and there are drinks with the names of the chapters of the novel or part of the name of the novel:

(Why does "Un Extraño Caso" (A Strange Case) have gummy bears??? I don't know but I love it and I'm going to try it.)

There is food with the names of the characters:

(The Lanyon burger looks interesting. And yes, the "Utterson" burger is the standard burger.😂)

They also told me that it has an outdoor area where there is a stage. That area of ​​the bar is called "Mr. Hyde" and is usually only available at happy hour in my city.

Loved the dedication they put into the place. I also read very good comments about the menu in general and the location. So I know where to drag my friends next time we go out 🤣

[undressrehearsal]

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 6]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3.1k

Authors Note: New chapter!! I hoped y'all enjoyed the little interlude between this part and the last, I really enjoyed writing it. And I hope you enjoy this update, as well!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Interlude | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

The bed that you woke up on was soft, despite being a bit smaller than you were used to. There was a soft hum coming from a spinning fan, creating a comfortable white noise in the otherwise quiet apartment. Your weekender bag was tossed on the floor, and you slowly pieced together where you were. You knew you must’ve fallen asleep shortly after coming to Jung Kook’s place, exhausted by the situation you’ve found yourself in. You checked your phone by your bed, and realized that you had slept all day. 

As you stretched out, you began to smell a pleasant fragrance coming from outside the room. You rose from the bed and opened the door, walking down the hall as you followed the scent of freshly cut vegetables. You found your way towards the living room, which sat adjacent to the kitchen, where Jung Kook stood, not yet noticing you were close by. His dark hair looked incredibly fluffy, with strands falling perfectly out of place. He wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, showing off an arm of tattoos that usually stayed hidden behind the sleeve of a professional suit. But he still managed to look softer than you’ve ever seen, as he combined ingredients together in a large, red bowl.  

“Hi.” You called out softly, earning his attention. 

“Hi.” He repeated, continuing to stir. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Very good… Thanks.” You said quietly, walking to the kitchen island to sit on the bar stool across from Jung Kook. 

“I, uh… I figured you would be hungry.” Jung Kook explained. “I hope you like japchae.” 

“I love japchae.” You smiled. “Oh my God, I haven’t had that since coming to the city.” 

“Great.” He smiled back. “This is a family recipe, so tell me what you think, ok? It’s almost finished.” 

“Thank you.” You responded. 

You looked around his small but nice kitchen, taking in Jung Kook’s little corner of New York. His white board calendar was pressed to the refrigerator with blue marker ink-scribbled reminders on a few important dates. The happy law school graduation photo of himself, and what you assume to be his mother, was hung up with a magnet cutely made to look like a Doberman puppy. A small collection of cookbooks stacked on top of each other, largest to smallest, creating a neat pyramid shape on the counter, and a collection of soju and whiskey that seemed to be carefully selected. It all felt so… him. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but it didn’t need to be. It was cozy, and for the first time in several days, you genuinely felt calm. This space, his space, felt safe. 

Then, you noticed a freshly cut bouquet of red and pink flowers in a vase of water, sitting right by you on the kitchen island. 

“Those are pretty flowers.” You commented, reaching over to gently touch one of the pink petals. 

“Oh! Yeah, they’re um…. T-They’re for you, actually.” Jung Kook stuttered. “I wanted to take them to the guest room, but uh, I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You got me flowers?” You asked, your eyes wide in surprise. 

“Yeah. I saw them on my way back from the office.” Jung Kook explained nervously, watching your expression closely. “There’s um, there’s this flower street cart thing, down the block, on the corner. I pass by it all the time, but uh, I thought m-maybe it would… make you feel better? After, y’know… everything this morning.” 

“You got me flowers.” You repeated to yourself quietly, staring at the bouquet of red and pink. “Jung Kook, that’s really, really nice of you.”

“Y/N-” 

“Nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before.” You said softly, tears blurring your vision. “Thank you.” 

Jung Kook stood there stunned, not expecting this reaction. How could a woman who had everything in the world, be so moved by a three dollar bouquet? 

“Nobody has gotten you flowers before?” Jung Kook asked, but internally burning to ask why Jimin has never done that for you, being as its something so simple. 

“No.” You shook your head. “Never.” 

You didn’t offer more of an explanation, and the timer on the kitchen stove buzzed, stealing Jung Kook’s attention away to plate the noodles before he could ask you anything else. 

“Here,” He said, filling your bowl. “Let me know what you think.” 

You nodded a quick ‘thank you’ when he handed you the bowl and utensils, and your cheeks blushed when his dark yet sparkling eyes watched you take the first bite. You never noticed how his eyes sparkled like that, like stars contrasted against a clear, black night sky. 

If someone had told Jung Kook years ago that one day, you would be alone with him in his apartment, eating his father’s famous japchae recipe with a smile on your face, he would’ve thought they were messing with him. It sounded too much like a daydream, like one of those pretend, domestic scenarios he used to fantasize about over and over again while sitting next to you in class. But here you were, as beautiful as you’ve ever been, barefoot in a pink nightgown, smiling that sweet smile, in his kitchen.  

“It’s delicious!” You praised, lighting up excitedly at the flavor. “I think you could’ve been a chef!” 

“Thanks.” He blushed, shaking his head. “Eat well, ok? Have as much as you’d like.” 

The two of you ate in casual silence for a few moments, except for the occasional slurping. You sat at the kitchen island, and Jung Kook leaning against the kitchen counter, still facing you, with a bowl of his own. It was a small moment, and it felt delicate and new, chocked full of potential, like a seed planted in the cold ground. It was something Jung Kook wanted to water and nurture, to see if it would bloom when the weather turned warmer. 

“So…” He said, breaking the silence. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

“Hm?” You asked with a mouth full of noodles. 

“Well, I’ve got some games. Board games, or the Switch,” He explained. “Or, we can watch something. Netflix, Hulu, HBO… Whatever you want.”  

“Any of that sounds so nice.” You said with a smile. “Seriously, I’m happy with anything.” 

“Ok.” Jung Kook said, before glancing down to notice your bowl was empty. “Do you want any more? I made plenty.” 

“I’m so full now, but thank you.” You answered with a small laugh. 

“Any time.” Jung Kook responded, taking your dish. “I’ll clean up, don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you in the living room in a few minutes, ok?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” You asked, watching him already load the dishwasher. 

“No, please, don’t worry about it.” Jung Kook said. “I’ve got it, it’ll just take a second.” 

“Ok.” You said, walking towards the dimly lit living room, only illuminated by the soft glow of the floor lamp sitting in the corner of the room. 

His Apple TV and Switch sat side by side on top of a small bookshelf, underneath the wall-mounted tv. The shelf was lined with comics, horror and romance books, which took you by surprise, be it a nice one. The curtains were opened, revealing a beautiful view of Manhattan at night, with glittering skyscrapers. You stood by one of the windows, looking out and taking it in. From so high up, the world below looked so small and far away, completely separated from where you stood, unable to reach you. Once again, a new sense of calm and safety flooded your system, allowing words you never meant to say to spill out.

“Jimin’s never gotten me flowers.” You thought out loud, speaking softly to yourself. Jung Kook heard you, and paused putting the last dish in the washer, turning to look at you from the other room. The distance between the two of you palpable; so close, yet still so far away. 

“Jimin’s never gotten you flowers?” He asked gently, and you turned to face him with a tinge of pink to your cheeks. 

“No.” You repeated, shaking your head. “Never.” 

“I’m sorry.” He responded, unsure as to what else he could say. 

“It’s ok.” 

But it wasn’t. Jung Kook knew that, and you knew that, but it went unsaid. Jimin gave you everything you should want; expensive gifts, trips to beautiful locations, and dining at the best restaurants in the world. But beneath all of that, the things you needed were absent. Peace. Protection. Stability. When those things don’t exist, you end up with a mess, exemplified ironically by a trashed luxury hotel suite. 

“Let’s watch a movie.” Jung Kook said, coming to the living room, and breaking you out of your thoughts. “Have you seen Wonka yet?” 

“Wonka? As in, the Timothée Chalamet musical Wonka?” You giggled at the suggestion. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard that movie is so silly.” 

“I think silly may be perfect right now.” Jung Kook smiled at your description, revealing his boyish dimples, before sitting on the couch. “C’mon, I’ll put it on.” 

The movie glowed on the screen, and you settled into the couch, quickly getting comfortable. Jung Kook tried to focus, which proved to be a challenge as he sat so close to you. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heart race, or his abnormally deep breaths, or sense just how badly he wanted to hold your hand, or throw his arm around your shoulders so you could lean into him, or kiss your lips. He appeared calm on the outside, but inside, he was more desperate than he’d ever been. You were so close, but still so painfully far away from where he knew you could be... or maybe, even should be. But for the night, he accepted what he had; the girl of his dreams, comfortably in his apartment, but not quite close enough to touch. For now, that would have to be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————

Jimin’s father spent much of his life teaching his son what he could. Negotiating business deals, looking over contracts, and how to find a good lawyer, leading to his meeting with the family attorney, Mr. Kim Namjoon. But the underlying message of all of these things, was the most important lesson that Jimin had ever learned; Parks get what they want. It didn’t matter how, or at what cost; this is a family that got what they wanted. 

Jimin, for much of his life, had experienced this. A play room of toys at 5. A puppy and a horse at 10. A weekly allowance at 13, with deposits being much more than most people would see in a month. It was his father’s way of showing love. A poor man turned rich man through hard work, his father wanted his son to have the life he never had as a child. This only became more true with the early passing of Jimin’s mother. In his grief, Jimin’s father continued to spoil him monetarily, while setting high expectations in the areas of academics and sports that Jimin, despite being an overachiever by every metric, could never seem to hit. This is when Jimin began secretly drinking, as a way to cope. Love in the Park family wasn’t expressed in three words, or in sentimentality. It was expressed through the swipe of a Black Card, and tinted by the ever-present need to have control. 

This would come to a head on an early morning in Mr. Kim’s office, when Jimin, still hung over and tempers boiling just under the surface, was told exactly that. 

“What do you mean no?” Jimin asked, his tone angry. 

“I mean no.” Namjoon said nonchalantly. “She’s not coming back to the hotel. She’s staying where she is.” 

“I thought I told you that if your colleague is left alone with my fiancé again, I’ll pull my business from the firm and find representation elsewhere.” Jimin gritted his teeth. “I find this to be completely unacceptable.” 

“Mr. Park, with all due respect, let me tell you what I find to be unacceptable.” Namjoon responded, growing frustrated with the client. “What’s unacceptable, is having my high-profile client trash a five-star Manhattan suite, and leave Ms. Y/L/N so desperate for relief that she calls me at the crack of dawn, only for me to find you passed out in your underwear on the bed from a night of heavy drinking. You’re lucky the other guests didn’t call an employee when they heard the noise, and that it was only Mr. Jeon and I, because I guarantee your little ‘lover’s quarrel' or whatever would’ve been plastered all over the Korean press by now. It would’ve been embarrassing for everyone involved.” 

“How do we know it won’t be in the press?” Jimin tsked. “How will it look to send me into treatment, with my wife-to-be staying with another man? You think people won’t ask questions about that? You think that’s not embarrassing for me?” 

“I think it makes you look responsible.” Namjoon argued. “We can tell any curious press, and the judge, that you’re getting your life back on track, and you’ve left your fiancé in the care of a close friend, who also happens to be a colleague of your lawyer, so that she has support. It makes you look selfless, and secure. You know what doesn’t? Throwing your fiancé’s clothes around like a spoiled brat when she tries to leave you. That, Mr. Park, I can’t spin in a way that makes you look good.” 

“She was only trying to leave for the night.” Jimin said quietly, clearly ashamed to admit to Namjoon the damage he had done. “She wasn’t leaving me… She loves me.” 

“She does.” Namjoon agreed. “Which is why she wants you to get help, and why you shouldn’t worry about Mr. Jeon. And I know that you love her, too, which is why you need to focus on keeping her. This is the way you can do that.” 

“Fine.” Jimin agreed through tight, gritted teeth. “So then, what’s the plan?” 

“Today, we’re getting documentation from the treatment center, and Ms. Y/L/N’s letter.” Namjoon explained. “We’ll meet Ms. Y/L/N and Mr. Jeon at the rehabilitation center, and we’ll make sure everything’s in order to show the judge tomorrow morning. Then, we’ll argue that you’ve responsibly checked yourself in, and that you need time before you’re able to conduct yourself in a courtroom again. Ms. Y/L/N will write a letter about your character that I’ll submit to the court, and knowing this judge, I believe he’ll find it admirable that you and your fiancé are committed to your treatment, and he’ll defer your date.” 

“Ok.” Jimin nodded. “I think that can work… I’m going to miss her while I’m gone, Mr. Kim.” 

“I know.” Namjoon said, his voice empathetic. “But you know she’ll visit you as often as she’s allowed to by the center, and she’ll miss you just as much, if not more so. That’s why you need to do this, for her. Now come on, we need to get going.” 

Jimin’s personal driver was waiting outside of the firm for the pair, ready to take them to the address that Namjoon had texted him earlier that morning. The car ride was silent, with Jimin watching people from his tinted window go about their day. He was nervous to see you, unsure of how upset you’ll be with him. His leg bounced uncomfortably as the car turned right several blocks from the office, taking them closer to where Jimin would be spending the next three months. 

He saw you, standing outside of the building with Jung Kook. You wore a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, and a Chanel bag across your body. Jimin quickly unbuckled and got out the car, anxious to see you. 

“H-Honey…” He said, dashing over to you, like nothing else in the world existed. You wrapped your arms around him, soothing his worries, and Jimin pulled you in close to kiss your lips. Jung Kook immediately looked away, choosing instead to meet Namjoon’s attention and nod his hello. 

“Hi, baby.” You said, holding back tears. 

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Jimin rambled, his hands cupping your cheeks so that you’ll look at his face, as he wiped any tears that rolled down. “Anything mean that I did, and anything mean that I said, I didn’t mean it. You know that, right, Y/N? I’m so sorry, you must’ve been so scared. Fuck, I never want to hurt you, or upset you. I love you, and I’ll never be angry like that with you again. I’m gonna get better, ok, honey? Gonna get better for us.” 

Jung Kook wanted to scoff, but he bit his tongue. He wondered how many times you’ve heard the same promises, hashed out the same fights, cried the same tears. He wondered how many times you’ve had to piece your heart back together, only for it to shatter again. 

He wondered how many times you can spin in the same circle, until growing too dizzy to do so any more. He wondered if that day would come, and if he could be the one standing there, ready to steady you until your world stopped spinning. 

“I love you.” You said softly, keeping your arms around Jimin. “I just want you to be happy… I was so scared, and I missed my Jimin.”

“I’m right here.” He said, pressing another kiss to your head as his heart broke. “I’m right here, honey. I’ll always be happy, because of you, ok? Nothing is ever going to change that. I’m your Jimin, forever. I love you.” 

“I hate to break up a sweet moment, Ms. Y/L/N,” Namjoon said, stepping towards the couple. “But we need to wrap up some loose ends, so that we can get Mr. Park set up for tomorrow.” 

“Ok.” You said, pulling away from Jimin. He grabbed your hand and smiled softly, pulling your hand up to his lips for a kiss. 

The four of you walked into the treatment center, with Namjoon, Jimin and yourself signing Jimin in and going over what will take place over the next ninety days. Jung Kook just stood behind and out of the way, watching the way Jimin kept your hand in his, or softly brushed  pieces of hair from your face, or snuck a quick kiss to your lips and cheek when he thought nobody saw. Jung Kook watched the way you folded so quickly under his touch, his kiss or a sweet look in his eye. 

In that moment, Jung Kook felt as though he were a college student again, watching you with another man, while he blended seamlessly into the background walls. 

[pxnsneverland]

Something Immortal | Biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

plot summary: In the gritty underbelly of a city ruled by werewolf biker gangs, Austin Butler reigned supreme as the ruthless leader of his pack. A man of unwavering ferocity, he lied, killed, and stole without remorse, living by a code of violence that defined his kind. Yet, even Austin harbored a secret weakness – his childhood friend Bonnie Barlow, the one woman he had loved in silence for years. Bonnie's father had once been part of Austin's gang, but after his death, she fled the treacherous world of the werewolves, unable to stomach the endless cycle of crime and brutality. For five years, she remained a fugitive from her own nature, until a fateful night when her life took an irreversible turn. Freshly released from a two-year prison stint, Austin returned to his pack, reveling in the debauchery of their den. But his revelry was cut short by a frantic call from Bonnie, pleading for his aid. Rushing to her side, he uncovered a grim truth – in a desperate act of self-defense against her abusive boyfriend, Bonnie had taken a life, awakening the dormant werewolf within her. As the next full moon loomed, she would undergo her first agonizing transformation, a fate she had always dreaded. Defying the pack's ruthless code, Austin sheltered Bonnie, guiding her through the excruciating metamorphosis that tore through her body each lunar cycle. In the depths of her torment, their bond rekindled, blossoming into a love they had long suppressed. Nights of shared laughter and reminiscence gave way to stolen moments of tenderness, their connection deepening with every passing moon. Yet, their newfound bliss was a fragile thing, forever threatened by the harsh realities that governed their world. For Bonnie was branded a deserter, her very existence a betrayal in the eyes of the pack. If Austin's treachery was uncovered, retribution would be swift and merciless.

pairings: biker!austin butler x oc

word count: 2116

warnings/notes: little steamy :)

Chapter 5: Unveiling Shadows

Jerry's fingers drummed an erratic rhythm on the worn bar top, creating a staccato beat that echoed through the dimly lit bar. An unsettling feeling clung to him like the mist that crept in with the evening tide, shrouding the city in a cloak of mystery and intrigue. There was something off about Austin, something hidden beneath the carefully constructed veneer of normalcy, and it gnawed at Jerry's insides.

"Something ain't right," Jerry muttered under his breath, his gut instincts screaming at him to pay attention to this nagging doubt. It felt like a splinter under his skin, impossible to ignore or shake off.

He needed someone who could see through the fog, someone cunning and unburdened by ties of close friendship. Victor "Viper" Sanchez came to mind—a man whose nickname forewarned his lethal bite. Viper was a shadow among their gang, always lurking on the outskirts, observing and waiting for his moment to strike out for a better position.

Jerry made his way over to Victor, who as usual, was lingering in the shadows of the bar. He was halfway through his second pint of beer but still appeared razor-sharp and alert. When Jerry approached, Victor looked up at him with a sly grin.

"Talk to me," Victor's voice slithered like a serpent, smooth and expectant.

"Viper, I need your eyes on someone. Discreetly," Jerry stated bluntly, wasting no time on pleasantries.

"Got a mouse scurrying in your pantry, huh?" Victor chuckled, but there was no amusement behind it. "Who's the target?"

"Austin," Jerry replied, tightening his grip on his own bottle of beer. "There's something he's not telling us."

"Intriguing." The word rolled off Victor's tongue like a predator sizing up its prey. "And what's in it for me?"

"Find out what he's hiding, and you move up. You have my word on that," Jerry offered, knowing all too well the currency of ambition among their kind.

A brief pause, then, "Consider it done. I'll sniff out whatever secrets he's burying."

"Good," Jerry responded with a curt nod. Victor was a serpent, but for now, he was Jerry's serpent. Until they knew what lurked behind Austin's carefully constructed walls, this alliance was necessary.

Austin led Bonnie through the thickening woods, his footsteps barely making a sound against the undergrowth. The air was crisp and filled with the rich scent of pine and damp earth, the moonlight casting a silvery glow through the tangle of branches overhead. He carried a worn backpack on his shoulder, packed tightly with all the necessary items for Bonnie's transformation that was to come.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bonnie's voice trembled as she glanced at the darkening sky. With each step, she could feel the pull of the moon, like an insistent tide against her senses.

"Bonnie," Austin said, slowing his pace and turning to face her, "I've done this more times than I can count. We're going to be fine."

His hand found hers, warm and comforting.

She managed to nod, but her breaths were shallow and choppy with anxiety. The inner beast within her was restless, pacing like a caged animal awaiting its release.

As they walked, Austin began recounting memories from their childhood, his voice a soothing melody that contrasted the wildness stirring within her. "Remember when we built that fort out of fallen branches? You insisted it was our secret base, impervious to all attacks."

A faint smile crossed Bonnie's lips. "And Jerry tried to barge in, and you stood at the entrance like some kind of pint-sized warrior king."

"Nobody breached Fort Bonnie while I was on watch," Austin said with a hint of playful pride. He squeezed her hand gently. "Just like nobody is getting past me tonight. You have my word."

The memories washed over Bonnie like a warm wave, each one a testament to the bond they shared. There had been scraped knees, stolen cookies, whispered secrets beneath the stars. And now, as night descended upon them, Bonnie realized something crucial: Austin had always been her shield, her unwavering guardian against the chaos of the world—and of herself.

"Thank you," she whispered, feeling the weight of her own vulnerability and the depth of his loyalty. "For everything."

"Always, Bonnie," he said simply, his gaze never leaving hers. "We'll face the moon together."

As they approached the old bomb shelter, a remnant from a bygone era, fear and gratitude warred within Bonnie. But as they stepped into its shadow, built to withstand disasters of a very different kind, she felt a surge of courage. No matter what the night would bring, she wouldn't face it alone. Austin stood by her side, just as he always had, ready to weather any storm.

Austin's muscles strained as he pushed open the heavy door of the shelter, its creaking groan echoing through the empty room. The only light came from a single lantern, casting flickering shadows over the stark concrete walls. The room was barren except for the cold metal hooks that protruded like statues, waiting to fulfill their duty.

"Here," Austin said, his voice low and urgent as he picked up one of the chains lying in the corner. "We need to do this now before the moon rises any higher."

Bonnie's heart fluttered in her chest, torn between a primal yearning for freedom and a deep-seated dread of what was to come. She held out her arm to him, feeling the cold metal of the shackle clamp around her wrist with an eerie finality.

"I still remember my first transformation," Austin whispered as he secured another shackle around her other wrist. "I was so scared, didn't know what to expect. But my father was there, just like I'm here for you. Although I won’t be yelling at you to suck it up."

Their eyes met, and Bonnie saw a reflection of their shared past in Austin's gaze—the pain, the struggle, but also the unspoken bond they had always shared. "It's hard, chaining up your own kin knowing what they're about to endure. But it's necessary for our safety. First transformations are always the hardest."

As Bonnie listened to his voice, filled with understanding and compassion, she felt a pang of guilt twist in her gut. It had been five years since she left without a word, abandoning not just her family but also her identity and heritage.

"Austin," she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry—for leaving, for not explaining why. I thought I was protecting myself from... this." She gestured helplessly towards the chains that now bound her. “I couldn’t face it. I knew what my father did. I had heard the stories of the blood and the murders and the news reports of animal attacks. I never wanted to become like that, but Dad always said I wouldn’t be able to control it once I turned.” She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable.

"I thought if I just ran away...I could escape it all. Go somewhere where no one knew me, where there were no gangs or werewolves."

Austin finished securing the last shackle and stood up, facing her with a mix of hurt and forgiveness in his expression. It was a tapestry woven together with threads of time and affection.

"Bonnie, when you left, it felt like a piece of me was torn away. It hurt, a lot." He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with gentle fingers. "But deep down, I knew you had your reasons." His voice was soft and filled with understanding. "And I would have waited for you. Another 20 years if that's what it took."

In the cold shelter, bound by chains, Bonnie felt an unexpected warmth bloom in her chest. No matter how far she had run or how long she had been gone, the bond between her and Austin remained unbreakable. It was a love that transcended distance and time—patient, enduring, and unconditional. And in that moment, she realized that nothing could ever sever what they truly meant to each other.

Austin's piercing blue eyes locked with Bonnie's, the intensity of their gaze igniting a fire deep within both of them. In that moment, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving behind only the raw and unspoken desires that charged the atmosphere between them.

"Bonnie," his voice rumbled with a passion that sent shivers down her spine, "I have something to tell you. Something I've known for a long time, but never had the courage to say." His words hung in the air, heavy and tangible.

His words hung in the air like a tangible force, electrifying and intoxicating at once. As she looked up at him, she couldn't help but feel both excited and apprehensive about what he was about to say.

And then he spoke those four words that changed everything: "You are my mate."

The weight of those words hit her like a bolt of lightning, awakening something primal inside her that she never knew existed. Mate. It echoed in her mind until it was all she could hear. Mates had a bond that was so strong and so rare there were few wolves alive who even believed it existed. Memories flooded her mind—moments shared beneath starry skies, stolen touches and secret glances, the unbreakable bond between them that she had always felt but never fully understood.

"I think...I think I've always known," she stammered, her heart racing with newfound understanding and aching with lost time. “I think I felt it even before I left. All this time, I never forgot the pain of leaving you behind."

Her words seemed to unlock something within Austin as well, for he moved closer until there was barely any space between them. His fingers traced her face delicately before tangling in her hair, pulling her into a passionate embrace.

Their lips met in a frenzy of pent-up longing and desire, each touch setting off sparks that spread throughout their bodies like wildfire. All around them ceased to exist—the coldness of the shelter, the impending transformation, the dangers of giving in to their urges during this heightened time—all of it faded away as they surrendered themselves to each other.

Hands roamed freely over familiar yet somehow new territory, rediscovering every inch of skin with a renewed sense of wonder and pleasure. Their kiss became a dance fueled by the pull of the full moon and their undeniable bond, two souls finally coming together as one.

But as their passion reached its peak, a nagging thought broke through their haze of desire. With great effort, Austin tore himself away from her, both of them gasping for air as they clung to each other.

"Bonnie, we can't..." His voice was filled with equal parts longing and restraint. "Not now. It's too dangerous with the moon rising." He had to go meet with the pack for their monthly hunt. The wolf in him urged him to keep going, to claim her, to mark every part of her body and make sure everyone understood who she belonged to. Fighting it was even harder with the full moon.

She nodded in understanding, even though every fiber of her being protested against the idea of leaving things unfinished. But for those few fleeting moments, they had found pure bliss amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their situation. And that was enough for now.

The distant howl, carried on the wailing wind, sent shivers down Bonnie's spine. She held onto Austin's warmth, his touch imprinting itself onto her skin as he slowly untangled himself from her embrace.

"I'll return as soon as I can," he promised, his eyes speaking volumes beyond his words.

With a final look that spoke of longing and regret, he departed from the room. The door creaked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty space along with the deafening click of the lock. Bonnie was left alone with only the flickering lantern for company.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she braced against the cold metal shackles that bound her. Fear and anticipation battled inside her as she waited for the inevitable transformation. The first change was always the most brutal - when you lost control of your senses and body to the primal beast within. Closing her eyes, Bonnie prepared herself for the excruciating pain and the terrifying loss of self. And then it came, like a searing fire from the depths of hell, ripping through every fiber of her being until she couldn't contain her screams any longer.

Stay tuned for part 6!! Click HERE to view!

[sophrosynesworld]

The Delicate Balance

Imagine being a lawyer helping the LOV.

Come Now.

I’m with a client, is this an emergency?

Don’t test my patience.

Don’t threaten the person who keeps you out of prison. Is this important?

Yes.

I’m on my way. Don’t do anything stupid.

I roll my eyes and stuff my phone back into my purse, standing up from the table. The tension in the conference room thickens as I interrupt the meeting.

“I am so sorry, gentlemen. I have another emergency to attend to. I’m sure you can finish this up without me, right?” I adjust my pencil skirt, ensuring it sits perfectly, as I gather my paperwork.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave the final draft on your desk before I leave for the evening,” one of the junior associates chimes in eagerly, his eyes wide with ambition. He’s desperate to prove himself useful, and I nod curtly, acknowledging his enthusiasm. 

I turn to my client, a middle-aged man with worry lines etched into his forehead. "You’re in good hands," I assure him, shaking his hand firmly. "I’ll review everything first thing tomorrow."

As I exit the sleek office building, I slip into the bustling crowd, my heels clicking with purpose against the pavement. I make my way to the subway station, weaving through the crowd of commuters.

Once I’m a few blocks away, I duck into a narrow alleyway, the noise of the city fading into the background. I continue towards an inconspicuous door, blending seamlessly into the brick wall. Glancing around to ensure I’m not being followed; I tap a code into a hidden panel on the ground. The door clicks open, and I slip inside, descending into the dimly lit corridor of the League of Villain's headquarters.

Inside, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. The air is heavy with the scent of metal and booze. The dimly lit bar isn't my typical client's office, but I don't mind as long as the check clears. As I move further in, the eyes of the League of Villains members flicker towards me, curiosity mingling with their usual wariness.

The first thing I notice is surprising. In the center of the room, tied to a chair, is none other than Katsuki Bakugo, a student from U.A. High. His usually fierce eyes are now filled with a mix of rage and fear, and his mouth is gagged, stifling any potential explosions of his infamous temper.

“Why do you have a child tied to that chair?” My voice is flat, deliberately controlled to mask my shock. The last thing I need is to show any weakness.

Toga, lounging casually nearby, looks up with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Can you report this to the police?”

“No,” I reply, keeping my tone professional. “I’m only required to report you if you haven’t committed the crime yet, but have just informed me that you plan to do so. But again, why is he here?”

Toga tilts her head, her expression turning mischievous. “He’s our newest member. He's just a little upset right now." She laughs, "Don’t worry, we won’t hurt him... much.”

Suppressing a sigh, I remind myself of my role here. I’m not just their lawyer; I’m their strategist, their advisor. I step closer to Bakugo, his fiery gaze boring into mine despite his predicament.

“I need you to understand,” I say, turning to address the room, “that actions like these complicate your operations. Kidnapping a high-profile U.A. student draws significant attention, and attention is the last thing we need right now.”

Spinner, leaning against the bar, nods in agreement. “She’s right. We can’t afford to have the heroes sniffing around.”

Shigaraki, sitting in the shadows, finally speaks. His voice is calm but carries an edge of menace. “We’re aware of the risks. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”

I kneel down to Bakugo’s level, offering a reassuring smile despite the situation. “We’re going to sort this out, okay? You’ll be fine.” Turning back to the group, I add, “We need to handle this delicately. I’ll draft a plan that ensures our security and minimizes the fallout.”

As I straighten up, I catch Dabi’s smirk from across the room. “You always know how to handle things, don’t you?”

“It’s my job,” I reply coolly. “But we can’t just release him. He’ll come back, and he won’t be alone. We need a solution that neutralizes the threat without escalating our exposure.”

Shigaraki leans forward, eyes narrowing. “What do you suggest?”

I think for a moment, weighing our options. “We need to relocate him somewhere secure, where he can’t easily escape or be found. Somewhere remote. And we need to ensure his containment is discreet.”

Toga perks up. “I know a place. An old warehouse outside the city. Hardly anyone goes there anymore.”

“That could work,” I nod. “But we also need to consider his friends will be looking for him. We need to leave false leads, misdirections to keep them off our trail.”

Dabi’s smirk widens. “Now you’re talking.”

I glance at Bakugo again, his eyes burning with silent fury. “We’ll move him tonight. Spinner, Toga, you handle the transport. Dabi, you’re on diversion duty. Create enough chaos to distract the heroes. Shigaraki, I’ll need your approval to mobilize the resources for this.”

Shigaraki gives a slow nod. “Do it. And make sure it’s done right.”

The tension in the room shifts to a focused determination. As the League members move to their tasks, I take a deep breath, ready to dive into the next challenge.

[whatisthisdrea]

Open your mouth and speak|Poly!20squad|

S.W.A.T x oc

I noticed that there is barely any poly! 20squad book, so why not write my own. Please feel free to message me if you have any requests.

Also please enjoy, and tell me what you think.

The neon lights of the city painted the pavement with a rainbow of shadows as the group of friends laughed their way down the crowded street. Music spilled from the bars and clubs, a mishmash of beats and voices that filled the air with an electric pulse. Jenny's heart raced with excitement, her eyes sparkling with the promise of a night to remember.

"Guys, let's go to the rooftop!" she exclaimed, tugging her friends along by the arms. They stumbled into an elevator, the laughter bouncing off the metal walls. The doors slid open to reveal a hidden gem of a bar, the city's lights glittering like a sea of diamonds before them. The cool breeze whispered sweet nothings into their ears, carrying the faint scent of distant oceans.

Jenny felt a buzz of excitement as they stepped out into the open space. The city looked so different from up here; the usual chaos muted into a serene mosaic of lights and shadows. Her friends gathered around a table, the conversation a delightful tapestry of giggles and gossip. The bartender slid over a round of drinks, the clinking of ice a soothing rhythm beneath the throb of the music.

But as the night grew later and the drinks stronger, Jenny's thoughts began to drift. She pulled her phone from her clutch, the screen lighting up like a beacon in the dark. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the string of unanswered messages from her lover, the unread count growing like a number on a broken slot machine. The texts grew more frantic, more pleading. "Baby, where are you? The guys are worried." Her fingers hovered over the screen, the urge to respond warring with the thrill of her newfound freedom.

The chill of the night air couldn't dampen the warmth of the whiskey as it slid down her throat. She looked around at her friends, their faces a blur of happiness and carelessness. How could they not see her slipping away? The weight of their indifference pressed down on her, a heavy blanket that smothered her voice. She'd been with Hondo, Deacon, Street, Chris, Tan, and Luca for three years—a secret garden of love that no one else could understand. But now it felt like a cage, the bars of their busy lives keeping her in, keeping her from living.

Her thumb hovered over the phone screen, the blue light casting a ghostly pallor on her cheeks. Each message was a shout from the void, a desperate attempt to reconnect with the people she'd chosen to let in. Yet here she was, feeling ignored and unwanted despite having so many lovers. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be a team, a family. But she was the one always left behind, the one they forgot to check on when the missions called or life took them away.

The whiskey burned a path down her throat, warming her from the inside out. Jenny knew better than to react like this. They were pretty overprotective of her, especially Hondo. He was the worst. So strict with her safety that it often felt like she was a precious china doll, too fragile to be allowed out of the house. But she was tired of being coddled and of being the one they had to keep safe.

"Hey, girl, are you ready to go?" Rachel's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Rachel's eyes were bright with excitement; her cheeks flushed from the cold and the drinks. She leaned over the table, her breath smelling faintly of mint and whiskey.

Jenny's hand tightened around her phone. "Actually, I think I'm going to crash at your place tonight," she said, her voice shakier than she intended. Rachel raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across her features.

"What's up with you?" Rachel asked, her voice cutting through the din of the bar. "You okay?"

Jenny forced a smile, her heart racing. "Yeah, I just... I don't know. I think I've had a bit too much." She held up her nearly empty glass as if it were evidence of her overindulgence. "You know my pace is on the other side of town; I don't feel safe driving all the way back." It was a lame excuse, but Rachel seemed to buy it. The truth was, she didn't want to go home to face the music or to deal with the fallout of her night out.

The walk to Rachel's apartment was a blur of streetlights and the occasional distant siren. Jenny's mind swam with the weight of the unanswered calls and messages. She knew Hondo would be furious, his voice a thunderstorm of worry and accusations. Deacon would be disappointed, his silent treatment a knife that twisted in her gut. And the others? Well, she couldn't even guess what they'd say.

Morning sunlight peeked through Rachel's blinds when Jenny finally opened her eyes, a harsh reminder of the time she'd wasted. It was already 10 AM, and she had to be at work in an hour. Rachel's apartment smelled faintly of stale beer and takeout, a stark contrast to the crisp scent of the night before. The headache was a merciless drummer, pounding out a relentless rhythm in her skull.

Her stomach churned as she rolled out of bed, the reality of the situation crashing down like a hangover-induced wave. She was an assistant for Hicks, Hondo's boss, and she'd spent the night out partying instead of keeping her head down and staying safe. She'd never been good at following rules, especially not Hondo's. The thought of facing them today made her palms sweat.

"Hey girl, I got some outfits for you to wear," Rachel called from the other room. "I know you've got work in like an hour." Rachel emerged with a grin, arms laden with clothes. The sight of Rachel's kindness brought a fresh wave of guilt. Rachel had always been the wild one, the friend who knew how to have fun without the burden of a secret life weighing her down. Rachel didn't know about the missions, the late nights, or the danger that was a constant shadow in Jenny's life. Rachel knew her as just Jenny, not as the girl who had to be protected at all costs.

Jenny took the offered outfit with a grateful smile, trying not to let her thoughts show. "Thanks, Rach," she murmured, disappearing into the bathroom to change. The shower was a brief reprieve from her troubles, the water washing away the stickiness of the night. As she dressed, the fabric of Rachel's clothes clung to her like a second skin, a costume to play the part of a carefree woman without a secret in the world. She applied her makeup with shaky hands, the reflection in the mirror not quite matching the person she saw in her mind's eye.

The outfit did indeed show off all her curves, the tight dress hugging her in all the right places. She twisted this way and that, checking herself over. It was a stark contrast to the sensible pants and blouses she usually wore to work, but somehow it made her feel alive, like she had something to prove. With a deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom, feeling Rachel's eyes on her. Rachel's mouth dropped open in shock, followed by a squeal of delight.

"Girl, you look hotter than a jalapeño in a sauna!" Rachel exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're going to turn heads at work!"

Jenny rolled her eyes, a genuine smile tugging at her lips despite the impending dread of facing her lovers. "Thanks, Rach. I'll be sure to keep it professional."

The outfit did indeed show off all her curves, the dress a daring dance of fabric that clung to her like a second skin. She took one last look in the mirror, the stranger in the reflection giving her a nod of approval. With a deep breath, she hugged Rachel goodbye, the warmth of her friend's embrace giving her a semblance of strength. The door clicked shut behind her, and she was alone in the hallway, the cocoon of Rachel's apartment no longer shielding her from reality.

The city streets were bustling with life as she descended the stairs, the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods from the nearby bakery teasing her senses. The heels of her boots clicked against the sidewalk with a confidence she didn't quite feel, but she pushed onward, her mind racing with the potential conversations she'd have to navigate at work. The wind played with her hair, the cool air kissing her cheeks as she walked. She felt the eyes of passersby on her, and for a brief moment, she reveled in the anonymity of being just another woman heading to work on a Friday morning.

Her phone buzzed again in her pocket, a silent reminder of the unanswered messages. She pulled it out and stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the call button. The digital clock at the corner of her screen taunted her, each second that ticked by a countdown to the inevitable. She had to tell them. They had to know she was okay. With a sigh, she swiped to answer and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Hondo's voice was tight, the worry clear even over the phone line. "Hi," Jenny said softly, the weight of the night's events heavy on her chest. "I'm okay. I just needed some... space."

The silence that followed was deafening, the city's noise a stark contrast to the quiet in her ear. "Space?" he repeated, his tone a mix of confusion and anger. "What does that even mean, Jenny?" "I went out with Rachel," she said, her voice a whisper. "I just needed to... have some fun. You guys are always so busy, I thought you wouldn't even notice."

Hondo's sigh was a hurricane through the phone. "We're worried about you, that's all. You know we care." Jenny bit her lip, the guilt weighing her down. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... felt like I was losing myself in all of this." "Look," he said, his voice softer, "we're here for you. You're important to us. We need to talk about this."

Her stomach twisted into a pretzel at the thought of their conversation. "Everyone's on edge right now, and pretty pissed off, so be prepared."

The drive to work was a blur of traffic lights and honking horns, her thoughts racing faster than the cars around her. She parked in her usual spot, her hands shaking as she turned off the engine. The sun's glare through the windshield made her eyes water, as if it knew she had something to hide. She took a deep breath, the leather of the seat cool against her back. With a determined nod to herself, she stepped out into the bustling parking lot.

The moment she walked through the glass doors of the office, the cool air of Hicks's displeasure was palpable. His voice boomed down the hallway. "Jenny, I've been waiting for you! I need those files printed out, stat!" She quickened her pace, the click of her heels echoing off the marble floor. She didn't dare look around, knowing that the eyes of her colleagues were on her, whispering about her late arrival.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached her desk, the stack of files waiting like an accusation. She logged into her computer, her fingers fumbling over the keyboard. The screen was a blur of words and numbers, each one a reminder of the world she was hiding from her lovers. With a deep breath, she started the printer and watched as the pages began to spit out, one by one.

Suddenly, she felt eyes on her again. "Darling," she heard Luca's voice, and she turned around to find herself enveloped in his arms. He hugged her tightly, his embrace warm and comforting despite the chilly office air. She leaned into him, the scent of his cologne familiar and grounding. He kissed the top of her head, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. "Baby, you had us scared. Where were you?"

Jenny's body went rigid, the weight of his concern heavy on her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her voice muffled against his chest. "I just needed some time."

Luca's arms tightened around her, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilly office air. "You know we'd drop everything for you, right?" He whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "You don't need to sneak around like this."

Jenny pulled back, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. "I wasn't sneaking around," she said, looking down at her desk. She felt his hand under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. His eyes searched hers, a blend of worry and love.

"You didn't tell us where you were going, baby," Luca said, his voice a gentle rumble. "We were worried. The job can wait, you know that."

Jenny nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She knew they cared, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being smothered by their concern. "I just needed a break," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the office's murmur.

"A break from what?" Luca's question hung in the air, the words a gentle challenge that made her heart ache. She didn't want to hurt them; she didn't want to make them feel like they were doing something wrong. But she also didn't want to live in their shadow, their fear dictating her every move.

"From the hovering," Jenny said, her voice a little stronger now. "From not letting me do things for myself. You guys ignore me sometimes, too wrapped up in your own worlds to remember that I have a life outside of this... mess." She waved her hand around the office, the files and computers a stark reminder of the mundane life they had to keep hidden from everyone else.

Luca's grip tightened, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. "You're right," he said, his voice thick with regret. "We've been too caught up in our own shit. We don't want to stifle you, baby. We just want you safe."

Jenny nodded, her eyes misting. "I know," she whispered. "But sometimes it feels like you guys are smothering me."

Luca's thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "We'll try to be better," he promised. "We just want you to be happy."

Jenny nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. She knew they had good intentions, but their overprotectiveness had become a prison of love. "I know," she said, leaning into his touch. "I just... I need to feel like I'm part of the team, not just the one you all have to keep safe."

Luca's smile softened, understanding flickering in his gaze. "You are part of the team," he assured her, his thumb still brushing away tears. "But we also care about you too much to let you get hurt."

"Okay," she said, taking a shaky breath, "but the others are pretty mad."

Luca chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was as comforting as it was alarming. "I saw Tan and Street taking it out on the boxing bag early this morning."

Jenny's stomach twisted at the thought of them being mad, but she knew she had to face them. "What do I do?" she asked, her voice small and shaky.

"You just be you," Luca said with a wink. "They'll get over it. Besides, you've got me in your corner." He gave her a gentle squeeze before letting go, his hands lingering on her shoulders. "Now, let's get to work. We've got a meeting with Hicks in five."

Jenny took a deep breath and followed him into the conference room, her heart feeling heavier with each step. The room was filled with the usual suspects, all of them looking up as they entered. Hicks was at the head of the table, his expression stern as he talked about the latest mission. The moment he saw her, his eyes narrowed. She took her usual seat, her cheeks flaming under the weight of their stares. The air was thick with tension, the scent of coffee and stale cologne mixing with the anticipation of their next move.

Hondo's eyes bore into her, his jaw clenched tight. Deacon sat with his arms crossed, his eyes dark and unreadable. Street and Chris exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of anger and confusion. Only Tan's gaze held a hint of something softer, a flicker of concern that made her stomach clench. They'd all been worried; that much was clear. But she hadn't meant to cause a scene; she'd just wanted to feel alive.

Hicks had finished talking and had to step outside and take a call. 

The door clicked shut behind Hicks, the sound echoing through the tension-filled silence. For a moment, no one moved, no one spoke. Then, as if a dam had broken, Hondo was on his feet, striding towards her. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low and fierce.

Jenny took a deep breath, her heart hammering. "I just... I needed time to think," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it was selfish, but I couldn't take it anymore."

Deacon leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Take what?" he asked, his voice as cold as the steel in his gaze.

Jenny took a deep breath, the weight of the unspoken words between them a physical pressure on her chest. "Take a night to myself," she said, her voice shaky. "To not be the one you guys have to protect all the time. To not be the weak link."

Deacon's handsome face tightened, his eyes flashing. "You're not a weak link," he said, his voice firm. "You're the glue that holds us together."

The others gathered around, their expressions a mix of anger and concern. "You don't have to deal with this alone," Street said, his voice gentle but firm.

Chris nodded, his eyes searching hers. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked, his voice tinged with hurt. "We're here for you, you know that."

Jenny looked around the room, the love in their eyes unmistakable. "I didn't want to burden you," she said, her voice barely audible. "You guys have so much to deal with already."

"Is that so?" Hondo said, his voice low and measured. He pulled her into a hug, his arms a steel band around her waist. "You're not a burden, Jenny," he murmured into her hair. "You're our family."

Deacon's hand squeezed her shoulder, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're the heart of this team," he said, his voice a little softer. "We need you."

Tan remained silent, his eyes searching hers. Jenny stepped towards him, reaching out to grab his arm. "Tan," she whispered, her voice trembling. She needed his understanding more than anything. He was the one who had always been there for her, the one who knew her better than she knew herself.

Without warning, he grabbed her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes searched hers, the depth of his concern etched into every line and curve. Then, his mouth was on hers, a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. Jenny moaned, caught off guard, her body responding despite the turmoil of emotions. It was a declaration, a promise that no matter what, she was loved.

Her hand came up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, their breath mingling in the space between. "We're sorry," he whispered. "We'll do better."

Jenny nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I just needed to feel like I was in control of my life," she said, her voice trembling.

"You are," Hondo said, his hand tightening around her shoulder. "You always are, baby. We just need to communicate better." His breath was warm against her neck, his words a soothing balm to the turmoil inside her.

Her eyes searched the room, finding each of her lovers' gazes. They all had their own ways of showing affection, their own ways of saying sorry. Street offered a tentative smile, his eyes filled with regret. Chris reached out, his hand finding hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. And Deacon, ever the stoic one, nodded in silent understanding.

Hondo's arms tightened around her from behind, his head resting on her shoulder. His voice was stern, a firmness that made her knees buckle. "But never that again, understand?"

Jenny nodded, feeling the warmth of his breath against her neck. "Yes, sir," she said, her voice filled with a hint of defiance that she couldn't quite suppress. The room went quiet for a moment, and then, like a dam breaking, everyone started to chuckle.

"What?" she asked, her voice small and confused.

Deacon's expression was serious, the belt in his hand speaking volumes. "You're important to us, Jen," he began, his voice a gentle rumble. "But that doesn't mean we don't need to keep you in line."

Her eyes went wide, a mix of fear and anticipation. "What are you doing?" she whispered, her breath hitching in her chest.

"What does it look like?" Hondo's voice was low, the command in his tone unmistakable. He bent her over the conference room table, his hand firmly on the small of her back, keeping her in place. She could feel the heat of his body, the unyielding presence that sent a thrill of excitement down her spine.

"Guys, what if somebody sees us?" She whispered, her heart racing as she glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. The sound of their footsteps had long since faded into the background, leaving them in a cocoon of secrecy.

Street's grin was wicked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then let them see," he said, his hand coming down with a firm smack on her upturned bottom. The sound echoed through the empty office, making her jump. She felt a blush spread from her cheeks to her neck, her ass stinging with a heat that seemed to radiate through her entire

[madmutts]

A Drive Home: Lapse Arc.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Angelo stumbles out of the bar bathroom, bandana clenched in his fist. God, his hair’s a mess. He rubs his wrist against his mouth with an irritated grunt– one step at a time, Angie, he hears mind Raph echo. “Oh shut up,” he murmurs.

“Angel?”

Buh..? As the box turtle steps forward, his snout makes contact with weighty fabric and fur. He looks up- woah. This dude’s tallll. Mumbling out an apology, Angie tries to scoot around, but the yokai blocks him. A deep, husky voice enters his ears. Not in a screechy, painful way, but with flow: like a nice shot of shitty ass whiskey.

“You haven’t been ‘round in a while,” the man says. “I thought you went sober or somethin'.”

Blinking blearily up at the yokai, he takes a look at the face that seemed to know his own. Oh– it’s the hyena bartender. Crud. He stammers a little, a small embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks. “I-I- uh.. I don’t- you know, I just-..." 

‘Bartender Guy’ raises a brow at Angelo, who stands there wobbling and shuffling in his spot. Mikey only barely registers his sigh. The bartender places a hand on the turtle's shoulder. "Look, I get it. I see this kinda thing happen all the time. Those guys? Your friends? They're drunks, man. And when you hang out with drunks, you gotta also get drunk."

Angelo stares down and clutches his hands into loose fists. Ah yes, shoes. How interesting, mmhm. He blinks rapidly as he feels the sting of tears, and his lips wobble. The turtle takes in a shaky breath, raising a fist to scrub at his eyes. “I’m tryin.. I’m tryna b-be better, I s-swear..”

The hyena grimaces, his hand leaving Angelo's shoulder. "Oh- no. I didn't mean-" He sighs again, glancing away for a moment. The bartender opens his jaws to speak, but he's cut off by the turtle. 

"I don't- I dunno why I'm h-here.." Angelo hiccups in between his words, his speech slurring from how wasted he'd gotten, "I shouldn't ha-have.. come here… I'm so stu-stupid. I jus.. I jus wanted friends.."  

Bartender Guy purses his lips, "Hey, no, you're not stupid-" Angelo whines, cutting him off again. "Noo..! They're gonna be so- so mad at me..!"

"Who? Your friends?" 

"No! My brothers! I promise.. promised! I wouldn't dri-.. drink anymore..! They're gonna hate me… Buh-" Angelo stumbles a little, a hand shooting up to stabilize himself against the wall. Then he leans against the bartender, hiding his embarrassed, flushed, and tearful face in that nice, clean button-up. Bartender Guy stares down at Angelo for a moment, his hand landing on top of the turtle's head. He then looks away, around the corner to the bar where Angelo's so-called 'friends' laughed and drank. 

"I jus wanna go home…" Muffled against his shirt, Angelo mumbles, sniffling quietly. A moment passes before there's a gentle pat on Angelo's head, and the bartender whispers down to him. "Hey.. How ‘bout I drive you home? I’m supposed to be clocking out soon anyway.”

Angelo wobbles a little as he leans back to look up at him, "But.. the guys..-" "Don't worry about them, I’ll handle it."

The turtle stares up at him for a second, before sniffling with a slight nod as he rubs his eyes again. The bartender gives him a small sympathetic nod and a pat on the shoulder. Angelo sways a bit as he makes his way to the door, then sits on the steps leading out to the street. 

Sitting in the cool and calmer air of the Hidden City, Angelo attempts to take a deep breath. With a whimper, he crosses his arms over his knees and rests his head on them. In his hand still rests the mask he usually ties his hair up with, his thumb idly rubbing the fabric.

He was so stupid. He knew he made a promise, and he broke it anyway. He broke it anyway.. Stupid, stupid promises. “Stupid, st-stupid Angelo.”

Angelo closes his eyes, letting his mind be carried by the quiet sensations of the city night. Though it still bustled, it was still much quieter than the streets of Manhattan. Quieter than the screams of war and fallen angels.

He likes the quiet.

A gentle pat lays itself on his backside. One eye opens lazily towards Bartender Guy. “I’m back,” he says. He left? “Your pals said bye, and that they hope you get home safe.”

Angelo hums, feeling slightly better. At least for the meantime. “Mmmm.. I suppose that dep-pendss on you, Mister.”

Bartender Guy huffs out a laugh– after so long, he was already used to his ex-regular’s behavior. “Yessir. Now- let’s get ya home.”

He helps Angelo up, letting the shorter man lean on his figure all the way to the car. It’s nothing grand, being your average five-person vehicle. Comfy. Sliding right into shotgun, he sinks into the cool leather, head tipped back. He weakly blows at the threads of hair sticking to his blushed cheeks. 

As the sound of the driver seat’s door closing and the engine revving up fills his ears, he yanks at his sleeves, hoping to relieve himself from the heat of his hoodie. His impaired motor skills prove the act to be a struggle, the hoodie latching on too snuggly on his shell.

The hyena glances over to his passenger while backing onto the road. “Do you.. Need help?”

Angelo growls. Bartender Guy raises his free hand in playful surrender. By the time the hoodie successfully plops off his form and onto his lap, the two yokai were freely riding down Hidden City streets.

Angelo’s head buzzes, his bartender friend’s words coming out as static. He pulls out his phone in a daze. There on his screen were multiple notifications of people worrying over him... Maybe he should update on his location? That’s what a sober person does he thinks. 

With two hands, the turtle navigates his way through his disorganized phone to his camera, taking a photo of the car and his lap. Click. He wasn’t sure if it was the car shaking or his hands shaking, but either way, the picture came out good enough. The blurry lights outside looked pretty– like strokes from a painting.

His eyes still fixated on the phone’s camera, he tilts it to his left, towards the driver. Through the lens of the camera, Angelo watches his relaxed form, his eyes calmly looking at the road ahead. He was… huh. The car slows down as it reaches a stoplight.

Click.

Bartender Guy, to Angelo’s surprise, glances over to the phone, noticing the photo taken. Angelo’s fixation on the phone breaks, and he glances up to the Bartender Guy– at the same time, Bartender Guy looks up at him as well. They stare at each other.

The bartender gives a bashful smile. “Um.. What are you doing?”

Angelo, for the second time that night, looks away embarrassed. He quickly goes to hide the phone, which results in the cell laying sweetly on the car floor. “What are.. you, doin, huh?” he retorts.

The man wiggles his fingers on the wheel. “Driving?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Dang, I’ve done been got.”

Angelo smiles, quietly laughing to himself. His smile lasts only for a moment though, as he gazes down at his mask. His brothers fill his thoughts again.

He murmurs, “Stupid, stupid Angelo.”

“..Don’t call yourself that.”

Angelo’s eyes widen. He hadn’t expected the man to hear that. He turns his head towards Bartender Guy, whose eyes were back on the road but had a firm frown. Oh.. Did he make him upset? “I’m s orry..”

He shakes his head. “The only one you gotta feel sorry for is yourself, man.”

The turtle furrows his eyebrows. No, but that’s not right.. “No.. not, not right..”

“Not. Right?”

“Not right.” His head tips up and down. “I broke.. A promise.”

“Angel-”

“Angels don’t break promises.” He looks at his hands, tracing the phantom cracks. “Misstter.”

Bartender Guy goes quiet, letting Angelo ramble. The turtle continues.

“Angelsss.. are supposed to be good! Unstoppable forces! Nooo flaws or weird kinda-demon possessions or deep unress-solvved issues. Whatsoever!” His hands nonsensically flap in the air. 

“I’m s’pposed to be an angel, y’know? Comes in the name. In the jobbb. In the war. Not that you know anythin’ bout the war, haha. I dunno if anyone I even know here died or survived then.” A part of him knew he shouldn’t even be talking about the war, but no part of him was thinking straight right about now. “But no! No good at savin’ anyone. Not then, not now. No good at keepin’ prommies.”

He lets out a pitiful laugh. “No good at not getting wasted.”

Angelo pulls his legs up to his chest, letting the fabric of his hoodie squish between his thighs and plastron. “Imm no angel. No good at bein’ a brother either. I’m just.. Nothin’.”

Silence begets the two. Bartender Guy stares straight ahead, quietly processing the information given. As he moves the turn signal though, he speaks up. “No, you’re not.”

A pause.

“Huh?” Angelo blinks slowly in confusion.

He sighs. “You’re not nothing– I think you’re wrong.”

Flares of anger hiccuped from the back of Angelo’s throat. “You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe not.”

“..What?”

The bartender turns the wheel. “Sure– maybe I don’t know you. I don’t even understand like. Half of what you just said right now honestly. 

“But I want to. I want to know you, your story. Your family. Anything you’re willing to.”

For a short moment, Angelo stares into Haida’s eyes– trying to understand. “..Why?”

He shrugs. “Because you’re cool?”

Angelo frowns and touches the surface of his skin. “No, I’m not.”

“Funny too. And– I dunno. You can be fun.”

“I drunk cry like, all the time-”

“Believe me when I say I’ve dealt with worse.” He slows down before reaching his point. “Listen, like. I may not know you, but I do remember you. And I don’t think you give yourself enough credit bud.”

Angelo’s lip trembles. “..What does it matter? My bros are gonna.. gonna hate me,” he repeats.

They finally reach their stop: Run of the Mill. Bartender Guy sets the gear shift to park before leaning back and turning to Angelo with a smile. His teeth stuck out, but it didn’t make it threatening: rather, the smile was soft. “No, I don’t think so. No one can hate you.”

Angelo sits, stunned. The bartender, after exiting the vehicle, goes around and helps him out of the car, grabbing his phone from the floor along the way. “You remember what to do, right?” He asks. “Call Hueso, portal back?” Pushing away the weird feeling rising in his stomach, Angelo shakily nods.

He secures his hoodie and mask in his arms and stares up at his driver. “I guess, um… This is goodbye?”

Bartender Guy types something on Angelo’s phone before handing it back. “Reckon so. I guess the next time we meet, it won’t be back in the bar, eh?”

Angelo flinches and looks down. He fiddles with the fabric of his hoodie sleeves. “I dun.. I d-dunno if I can.. prommise that.”

He shakes his head.”You don’t have to.” He smiles as he hops back in the car, this time with full sets of teeth– the trademark of a hyena. “I believe in you. And I think that’s more than nothin’.”

And with the wave of an arm, Bartender Guy drives away. Angelo stares off at the friendly stranger– well. Maybe friend? He’s not sure anymore. He looks down at his phone, curious as to what the bartender had typed.

Huh. It was a contact number.

“..Haida.”

[lexosaurus]

Keep Your Enemies Closer

A little Tech Hunter AU oneshot I wrote for DP Angstfest 2023! I based this off of @kinglazrus' AU fic for the @dpauzine in which Tucker is the Red Hunter. It's been stuck in my brain ever since, so I couldn't resist writing her AU for this event!

[ao3]

****

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

That's what people always said, anyway. It's what actors spouted in Hollywood blockbusters as their characters sipped their old fashioned in the dimly lit bar. It's what people typed in their chat logs online, thinking of themselves as high and mighty, very cool, not to be messed with, while they cracked open their fifth serving-sized bag of Doritos that day.

But this wasn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It wasn't Tucker talking up himself to random usernames online.

As he looked at Danny, who was animatedly chatting to Sam about some recently released video game that Tucker couldn’t pretend to care about anymore, he knew that this wasn't just a cool verse. It was real, at least to him. 

“The final boss was way too easy,” Sam was saying. “It's like the devs weren't even trying.”

“I beat it in like five seconds flat,” Danny agreed.

“Yeah, because you exploited the armor glitch,” Sam said. “If you played the game like it was supposed to be played, the final boss would have taken at least a little longer.”

Danny tsked his tongue. “It’s not my fault that I’m obviously just one step ahead of the devs. And you, actually.”

“Come on,” Sam laughed, catching onto the mood. “Stop messing with me.”

Danny grinned back at her, his fangs poking out over his lips. “Samantha Manson, when have I ever messed with you?”

Tucker ducked his head before his face could show. Though, each day that passed seemed to allow that quiet mask to slip over his face far more easily than the day before. And he wasn't even talking about the little yellow mask that lived under his skin.

He remembered the day he'd pieced it all together. The day all the lies, all the little breadcrumb clues, suddenly snapped into place.

He'd been home, as usual, watching videos of the rapidly increasing ghost attacks targeting the city. And of course, at the epicenter of it all was Phantom.

Danny fucking Phantom.

He remembered Danny calling him, his face popping up on Tucker’s home screen, and Tucker pausing the video and holding up his phone to see the two faces side by side. The same smile, the same freckles, the same jaw and haircut and they were the same. 

He couldn’t believe it. But…it made sense. And maybe that was the worst part because it meant that his friend, his best friend, was dead. And worse, he’d turned into a monster. 

But when? When had he died? Was it that “accident” that he sometimes referenced? The day he’d gotten hurt by some of his parents’ equipment?

It didn’t matter. Because now, he was Phantom. But how was he Phantom? The ghost that Tucker loathed. The ghost that Tucker had long since blamed for turning their safe city into a fucking warzone.

How did his best friend turn into…that? Was death really so horrible that it completely changed a person? 

Or was this always inside Danny, deep down in the recess of his subconscious? So deep, so hidden, that Tucker had never noticed till now.

Some people saw Phantom as a hero, and he seemed to revel in it. His cockiness was overflowing, and he took great pride in arriving at every scene precisely when the new ghost of the week would show up. He'd throw a few puns, assure the crowd that, “Don't worry, citizens! I've got this!”, and then he'd beat the ghost up, suck them in his thermos, and would disappear until the next attack.

Phantom had fooled many of the masses. But despite what Dash's stupid nicknames would suggest, Tucker was no sucker. Even if everyone else had their heads up their ass, he didn't.

Tucker didn’t do anything at first. Maybe he’d just been in too deep of a denial. After all, who wanted to pin the destruction of their city on their fucking best friend? 

But then, he started paying attention. To Danny, the “human,” more. All his little quirks, his habits. The way he seemed to jump when Sam casually put a hand on his shoulder (he’d never used to do that), the way his teeth started to sharpen (humans don’t have fangs), the way his eyes would spark green sometimes (it wasn’t a trick of the light), or how he’d always disappear right before a ghost attack (almost like he knew they were coming).

But Tucker stayed silent. Because if Danny was Phantom, then Danny was dangerous. Who knew what Phantom would do if Tucker revealed that he knew? No, it was better to stay docile, not rock the boat, not put his life at risk. Just play it cool.

That plan only worked for so long.

The breaking point wasn’t an explosion of flashy lights so much as it was a seed, planted, but not yet even watered. It was Tucker booting up his virtual computer and opening Tor after school like any other day. 

The usual usernames were chatting in his group. People working on their various projects, coming to the chat room for tips or just talking about whatever other topic was on their mind. This was typical—welcome, even—after the confusing mess that had been Tucker’s every other waking moment as of late.

And then the conversation took a turn. 

To Phantom.

Sporksmith: I haven't wrapped my head around whether Phantom is a good guy or not. ChaseK: It's sus that as soon as the ghosts started showing up, so did he. Sporksmith: That's what I'm thinking, but the guy takes so many beatings a week. I feel like it's more likely that he's crawling out of the same dimensional holes that they are because the dude has family here or something. Mole: That's probably it. He uses modern slang, so it's pretty obvious he died recently.

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about Phantom. He was a fascinating subject and under much national scrutiny. But this time, Tucker finally stepped in.

GoldenFryer: You guys don't know what you're talking about. ChaseK: You know something then? GoldenFryer: Yeah, I have some inside info. Can't say much, but Phantom isn't who he seems. He's dangerous. Sporksmith: You sound like a guy who's got something up his sleeve.

He hadn't, at that point. But still, it needled his mind. He was closest to Phantom, wasn't he? Even if Danny himself didn't know. Of everyone, wasn't it Tucker’s responsibility to do something about this?

To set the soul of his dead best friend free?

GoldenFryer: Not yet, but maybe I should.

Of course, he couldn't do it by himself, but there was someone who could help. Someone with money, power, and a vocal hatred for ghostly invaders.

“Tucker Foley,” Vladimir Masters said, opening his door. His hair was pulled back in his signature ponytail, and he wore a gaudy green Packers bathrobe. “You’re awake early on a Saturday for a teenager. My, where's your other half?”

“No Danny today. Just me,” he said, keeping his tone casual despite the sudden anxiety spike in his gut.

Vlad grinned and stepped aside, sweeping his arm over the now open doorway. “Excellent, why don't you come in?”

Tucker followed the gesture and stepped through the door, trying to ignore the guilt that was clawing at him. Danny always talked about how much he hated Vlad, and how creepy the guy was. And while Tucker agreed that Vlad was more than a little slimy, Vlad was a businessman, and more importantly, a billionaire. Being slimy kinda came with the territory.

And besides, Vlad had only moved into the town a year ago, after Danny had already turned into Phantom. So, it wasn't Danny who hated Vlad, not really.

“Come, make yourself comfortable. You're a bit too young for me to offer you a drink, but maybe some water, perhaps?”

“I'm fine,” Tucker said. His voice echoed around the empty house.

“Then sit.” Vlad pulled out a seat at the bar. “I just brewed myself a pot of tea. Maybe you'd care for some of that?”

“No thanks,” Tucker said, his voice jilted as he forcefully remembered his manners. Even if it was Phantom who hated Vlad, Tucker wasn't too keen on being behind closed doors with the man any longer than necessary either. 

Vlad paid him no mind, of course, and poured his tea into a fancy china cup. He brought the cup up to his nose, sniffed, and then smiled, setting it down on a small plate on the counter and settling into a seat for himself. “So,” he started, clasping his hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you on this fine day?”

Tucker blew a breath out, trying to expel the mounting anxiety in his system. “Okay, I realize what I'm about to say sounds absolutely insane. I get that, but I just need you to let me explain.”

That slimy smirk was back on Vlad's lips. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Okay.” Tucker wrung his hands in his lap. “Okay, just—just hear me out. Trust me, nobody wants to say this less than me.”

“But of course, my dear boy.”

Tucker exhaled one last time and then began. “So, I know who Phantom is. You know, the ghost? I—he's disguising himself as a teenager, and I know who it is.”

“Oh, really? My, that doesn't sound good.”

“It's not.” Tucker closed his eyes, covering his forehead with his hand. “It's the worst, really. Because the person that Phantom is pretending to be—and I know, I know, just let me explain—but it's Danny. Danny Fenton.”

Tucker peeked through his hand to see the smile on Vlad's lips widen. 

“Daniel Fenton, my godson, you mean?” Vlad said. “That's quite the accusation.”

“I know it is. Trust me,” Tucker said. “But—okay, so basically, I think what happened was that Danny was in some sort of lab accident, and it killed him. He talks about it sometimes, but he doesn't give any details. But I'm pretty sure that was it. Because only like a month after that happened, all the ghosts started appearing. And Phantom too. I—uh, here. Hang on, let me show you...” Tucker leaned over and pulled his tablet from his backpack. He opened it and went to his files, opening a pdf of his comparison photos. He handed the tablet to Vlad, saying, “This is them side by side in different positions. You can really see it there, when the photos are lined up like this. They look exactly the same. But that's not all! Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Vlad said, swiping through the pdf.

“Look, I don't really know how to explain it, but Danny's just...he's different now. He disappears before ghosts attack, he comes back all beat and sometimes bloody. He's cold, way colder than normal, and sometimes I see him—when someone's annoying him or if he's pissed—where it's almost like...like he can't even contain his human form anymore. His eyes get green, and sometimes ectoplasm sparks in his palms. It's not human.”

“And you see this as...a problem?” Vlad looked up from the tablet. “If Daniel was Phantom?”

“Why wouldn't it be? Don't you have this whole initiative to get rid of ghosts?” Tucker argued.

If anything, that seemed to amuse Vlad more. He set the tablet down and said, “But of course, I wasn't insinuating anything. I merely just acknowledge that Daniel is your best friend and that most of you youths enjoy Phantom's presence in this city.”

“Only the blind ones do. I know better. Phantom is bringing the ghosts into this town. Mr. Masters, you know how all ghosts have Obsessions?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Well, Phantom’s Obsession is being a hero, right? What's more heroic than setting up a bunch of ghost fights to 'save' people from?”

Vlad's smile was almost impossibly wide now. “Yes, I understand.”

Something was amusing to that billionaire creep, but Tucker hardly had time to figure out what before Vlad was up out of his seat, pacing around his kitchen.

“You see, I already know all this. You understand, I'm the one funding this city's anti-ghost initiative. And I also know that young Daniel is Phantom.”

Tucker's jaw dropped. “You do?”

“But of course, I do!” Vlad pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it for a minute before passing it off to Tucker. In an encrypted app that Tucker didn't recognize was a video. 

“Well, go on,” Vlad said.

Tucker pressed play on the video to see a dimly lit alley with Phantom standing at the end of it. He glanced around, and then white rings appeared, passing over his body. A white T-shirt and jeans replaced a black suit, and black hair replaced white hair.

The rings disappeared, and the person that remained was none other than Danny Fenton.

Tucker blinked, and his head snapped out of the memory. His eyes refocused, and Danny Fenton sat in front of him, still talking to Sam, his posture still far too easygoing for someone who wasn't even human.

His human form was impressively detailed. His unruly black hair, dash of freckles on his cheeks, blue eyes, and pointed nose—all signature traits of Danny. He had gotten it almost perfect.

Almost. 

It made Tucker's blood boil, and he struggled to push it down, keep it in check. Ghosts could feel intense emotions.

The calm mask slipped over him once more, and Tucker was empty. Just empty.

Just how, when he stared into Danny's eyes, he could see that same emptiness too. There was no humanity left. No, that'd died almost two years ago now. All that remained was a ghost. 

He wanted his friend back. But that was impossible. The only thing that he could do now was wipe all ghosts out so no one ever suffered the way Tucker was right now.

He was a hacker, so once he got the tech, programming it was a piece of cake. Okay, so maybe it was a little bit harder than that, but he was nothing if not determined.

And he was nothing if not a damn good programmer.

And now he had the power to fix this, end the ghostly invasion in Amity, end Phantom's terrorizing reign, and set his former friend free.

“What do you think, Tuck?” Danny turned to face Tucker.

“Huh?” Tucker grunted, his elbow nearly slipping from his desk. “Sorry, what are we talking about?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you really have been spacey today. Sleep well last night?”

No, he hadn't, actually. Because Phantom had set up another attack at 2 a.m. and so Tucker had to intervene.

Danny was wearing long sleeves today. Good. It meant that Tucker's shot really had nailed his bicep.

“No, sorry,” Tucker chuckled. “Was rushing to get Lancer's essay done. I can't work on it this weekend; my cousins are coming to town.”

“Again?” Sam asked.

No, they weren't. Tucker hadn't seen his cousins since Christmas. 

“Yeah, my aunt and my mom are in this whole midlife crisis thing right now. Want to make sure we all bond properly or something.” Tucker waved his hand haphazardly. “You know how moms are.”

That was the perfect trigger for Sam, who huffed expectantly. “Oh yeah, don't even get me started. My mom is still trying to make me bond with Kate. Kate's two years older than me and was the head of her cheer team. Like, hello? You can only imagine what her playlists are like.”

“You should blast some death metal next time,” Danny said.

“Trust me, I have. It's the only way to get her to shut up.”

“Must not be death enough.” Danny flashed his teeth in a mischievous smile. “I’m sure I can help put together a playlist if you want.”

That cocky motherfucker…

Did he enjoy gloating over everyone? Did he really laugh at them when he was alone, all the stupid, idiotic, airhead humans who he thought didn’t notice anything?

Squashing his emotions was suddenly too difficult, and just before the internal tea kettle was able to whistle, Tucker was saved by the bell.

Oh, thank god.

Tucker was out of his seat before anyone else, scooping his notebook from his desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and racing out the door before Sam or Danny could catch up.

Still, when against his better conscience he glanced over to his friends, he didn’t miss the subtle look Danny gave him or the green glint in the corner of his eye…

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

If only it was easy.

****

[read more of my work]

[cerebralinvasion]

yandere february event day 22

 “oh, you aren’t that drunk, don’t worry. i just drugged you.”

you’re not someone who gets drunk. that’s not to say you don’t drink at all, you just don’t have a tendency to let it get that far. you don’t really drink unless you're with someone else who offers first, and even then you only have a glass or two at most. you don’t even have a lot of friends who ever offer to drink with you. the only one that comes to mind is dazai, who’s offers to go to bars you often reject. you didn’t like bars. the atmosphere, the noise, the people, it’s just not all that enjoyable to you. but today he’s been awfully insistent, and you found yourself conceding. 

according to dazai, this was an important place to him. an off the beaten path, hidden gem kind of place. you’ve never even heard of it. bar lupin, located in a less populated part of yokohama. a side of the city you didn’t often explore. but since it was important to him, you were less apprehensive about trying something new.

a mimosa. simple, and low in alcohol content. that’s what you usually order and that's what you ordered today. not without escaping a small jab from dazai, of course. a joke asking you if you’re a lightweight or something.

dazai was always exceptionally talented when it came to sleight of hand, you knew that well. you’ve seen him escape from handcuffs and chains in a matter of seconds. it never particularly worried you, you trusted him. you never thought that any of his questionable skills would end up hurting you. you started to question that conclusion as you felt your body grow heavy and found forming coherent thoughts to be more and more difficult. 

“dazai…? am i. drunk? i’ve never been drunk before… i only had one drink. why am i alerby drunk?” you mumbled, swaying back and forth on the stool.

dazai giggled, a kind of giggle that you would’ve called cute in any other situation. but the innocence in it only made the sound creepy.

“oh, don’t worry, you're not drunk. i just slipped a little something into your drink. you’ll be out soon.”

you slowly turned your head to establish eye contact with him as you processed his words.

“you drugged me…? what are you gonna do to me?” your voice shook, both from fear and from whatever was running through your system. “i'm not going to do anything. i’ll just take you back to my home, and you’ll be safe there.”

“bbut i don’t wanna go to your house, i waana go home.”

“well i think you should let go of that. there’s no point thinking about it, you won’t be going home again.” dazai smiled so gently at you while he spoke.

you started attempting to mumble some further protest but you found yourself unable to form any more words. then you felt yourself falling, slumping over. only to be caught by dazai before your head could hit the table. he cradled you in his arms, sushing you as you tried to talk.

“don’t fight it, just relax. i promise, i'll keep you safe.”

you can’t remember anything after that.

[goosewriting]

Hi hi! I've been meaning to request scenario 2 with Leo being the one to ask reader out, with prompt blue 8 ("where have you been all my life?") being said by Leo) and pink 11 ("you're telling me you believe in love at first sight?" Being said by the reader)

Destiny (rottmnt Leo x reader)

scenario 2: Character A comes to talk to Character B, pretending to be B’s s/o when a stranger is making B uncomfortable. Leads to them asking B out on an actual date. prompt 8: "Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you” prompt 11: “You’re telling me you believe in love at first sight?” “I’m starting to.”

summary: Leo saves reader from a creep and they start talking.

relationship: Rise!Leo x GN reader

warnings: fluff, stranger yokai being a creep

word count: 1k

A/N: i think it’s the first time i’ve ever written or even had to flesh out the “i’m her boyfriend, who are you? at the bar” trope lol technically it didn't end in Leo asking them out on a date but instead in asking for their number sdfsfd still i like how this one came out ^^ thank you for requesting, enjoy~

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – –

It was just another day in the Hidden City, and you happily skipped to your favourite food truck at the plaza. Around this time you would always come down here to get your beloved meal because there was no other like it anywhere else. The owner already knew you by name as well, and would usually have your food ready. It seems that today there was a new employee however, as you arrived and your order was not waiting for you on the counter as usual.

So you approached the truck and started talking to the guy after telling him what you wanted. He didn’t seem too interested in smalltalk though, so you gave a slight pout and stepped aside to wait for the food in silence. 

You were about to take out your phone to entertain yourself when someone approached you. They called out to you and you made the mistake of looking in their direction, because you recognised them to be the creepy yokai who for some reason not only knew your name but also this schedule of yours and would usually lurk around, waiting for you, then try to chat you up and have you follow them somewhere. As politely but sternly as you could, you tried to make it clear for the umpteenth time that you were not interested.

– – –

On the opposite side of the plaza, Leo happened to be taking a stroll, deciding what to do. He patted his stomach, concluding that he was indeed hungry and should get some food. There was this food truck nearby that he had seen a couple of times but hadn’t tried yet. He looked around until he found what he was looking for, but was distracted by your figure just mere metres from the truck. You looked very uncomfortable and some creep was clearly in your personal space. With furrowed brows he made his way towards the two of you; this will not be happening under his watch. (Besides, you looked like you were in line at the truck, maybe you could recommend him something off the menu.)

– – –

Just as your tone started growing more and more frustrated, the yokai took a step towards you, and you tried taking one back, but were blocked. A man-sized turtle with a blue mask around his head materialised out of seemingly nowhere and threw his arm over your shoulder.

“Hey babe, is the food ready yet?” he asked you. You were about to scold him for calling you ‘babe’ when you had never seen this turtle before in your life, but as his gaze shifted towards the other yokai, you connected the dots of what was happening. 

“Uhm, no, not yet. I’m still waiting” you answered after clearing your throat, and hoped that the creep would get the hint and leave already. 

“So who’s this?” Leo asked, shifting his position ever so slightly so you were partially shielded by him.

“Me? I’m just a friend” the stranger spat out. “We were having a nice conversation until you appeared, get lost. Who are you?”

“You are not my friend!” you said and gave them an angry look. “I don’t even know you, so please stop bothering me.”

“You heard them, they don’t want you here. I’m the boyfriend, by the way” Leo added with something akin to venom in his voice. “So get lost or things will get ugly.”

The stranger scoffed at that, looking at you, but Leo hid you completely behind him, blocking you from view. The yokai shook his head and muttered something to themself, then left with a grumble.

Once they were out of ear-shot, Leo turned around with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry about butting in like that and for grabbing your shoulder” he apologised and scratched his neck. “You looked really uncomfortable and I thought I could help you out.”

“Not at all! You really saved me here, they’ve been lurking around for a while now” you explained. “So, thank you, …?” 

“The name’s Leonardo, but-” now that Leo took a moment to take a proper look at you, he noted that you were drop-dead gorgeous. He was gonna add a ‘but you can call me whatever you want~’ to his introduction but all his confidence left his body at this realisation. “Y-you can call me Leo.”

With a smile you give him your name as well, and just then you get called from the food truck to pick up your order. You ask him if he has ever eaten here, and upon his negative response, you gasp in shock, and order some more things from the menu for him to try. You sit on a nearby bench and eat together, completely immersed in the conversation. 

When the food was gone and your bellies were full, you took a look at your phone to check the time; it was way later than you had anticipated and you announced you would have to be on your way soon. But you had clicked so well, neither of you wanted to leave just yet. With a dramatic sigh, Leo leaned his elbows on his knees, with his head in his hands.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks somewhat rhetorically, with a comically enamoured look.

“Hiding from you, apparently” you respond sarcastically with a snort, thinking how your schedules didn’t align at all and that’s why you only met him here by mere chance, though you would have loved to meet him sooner. 

Since you had to go, Leo asks for your number, and you exchange your contact info. 

“You know” Leo says as you both stand up from the bench, and he takes one more look at your name on his phone screen with a silly smile, then pockets the device. “It really must have been destiny for us to meet. I mean, what are the odds of you being in that situation just as I was walking by?”

“Destiny?” you laughed. “You’re telling me you also believe in love at first sight or something?”

Leo gave you a smug grin, which you admitted was very attractive, and softly grabbed your chin, leaning in ever so slightly.

“I’m starting to” he whispered just barely loud enough for you to hear. And with a wink, he said his goodbyes and left, leaving you a flustered mess. 

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz

[regretisstoredintheme]

Leo x Jumpy!Feline Yokai!Reader

Warnings: Leo having more rizz than anyone on the god damn planet

—-

I KNOW I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT.

Imagine. 

Ivy covered walls, the fresh smell of coffee, the constant, sluggish faces of regulars and newcomers alike, the clear windows and fresh air coming in— well, as fresh as you could get in the hidden city. 

This, was peace, only interrupted by the occasional jingle of a bell, gently letting you know that a new customer had walked in. This was what you loved about life, being able to sit back and just enjoy your own company without feeling lonely. When you could forget all that made you anxious. 

As a feline, you always had a certain jumpiness about you. Call it instinct.. call it trauma.. whatever it was, it seemed even the slightest sounds could set you off— like someone pushing on the pull door or sneaking up behind you. You weren’t exactly quick to trust, being how much you were put down and infantilized, but here, nobody could tell how much noise got to you. Here, there was peace, calm, relaxation. And nothing could take that away. Or… so you thought. 

BAM!!

Jumping 5 feet into the air, you felt hot liquid seep into your apron, passing the uniform you were wearing and burning into your fur. You hissed in pain— holding for dear life to the kettle in your hand as you slammed it on the counter. Commotion? At this hour? Did they have any idea what time it was!? You were used to the occasional angry customer, but usually your coworkers handled it! Now there was coffee all over you, and the sound of arguing echoing in your ears. It was hard not to glare at the customers that had walked in— four, or — three?? You couldn’t tell what they were arguing about, it was hard to tell with the anger bubbling in your veins. They nearly gave you a heart attack!!! And they were still yelling!? 

Trying to keep your composure, you smoothed down your ears and hair, and all but threw your apron off of you. This was your first time working a shift all by yourself, you were not about to blow your top! 

“Ahem-!” You cleared your throat, staring down the intruders as they all turned to you. Now that your vision wasn’t as bleary, you could see the culprits a little clearer. An odd bunch they were, all clad in bandanas of different colors. Red, blue, orange, and purple, respectively. They all seemed to match in different ways, and the thought suddenly occurred to you that you may have just ‘ahem’ed at a biker gang. 

“I’m not bailing you guys outta this one.” The smallest stated, folding his arms and looking away from the others. 

“Ah- “ The largest - with a red bandana - chirped, shifting under your gaze, “I- haha- I’m so sorry Mx, my brother surely didn’t MEAN to KICK your door open.” He chuckled nervously, then turned to death glare at his brother in blue - who you assumed to be the culprit. “Looks like you have been caught Blue-handed my fine glass breaker.” Purple laughed, leaning into his staff… was he always carrying that?? Was it a weapon of some kind?? Nevermind— unimportant. 

‘Blue’ rolled his eyes at their comments, but seemed to relent. “okay fine, I kicked it a little harder than I thought.” He turned away, folding his arms. 

As you looked closer, they all had weapons. Tonfas, some sort of mace, swords… the works! And they looked pretty beat up too — possibly from mugging someone in an alleyway… you felt sweat bead on your brow, but you shook your untrusting thoughts away, motioning to the four seats at your bar. “Where uh—“ the largest went to spoke again, but you motioned to the menu on the wall, knowing what his question was. “Not much of a talker, huh?” Blue chided snarkily, a smirk replacing the embarrassment he had earlier. 

“I wouldn’t wanna talk to someone who had busted down MY door either!!” Red scolded, and it hit you that he was probably the one yelling earlier. “Seriously, there’s a time and place for your flashy nonsense.” He huffed, folding his arms. “Hey, I was the one who suggested the cafe in the first place!” Blue combatted, hands out in exasperation, “We’re all tired from hustling Baron, so how about you take a chill pill, huh?” The smile he put on only made your blood boil hotter, your ear twitching as you decided to tune out the two’s argument.

Sidling over to where the other two had sat down, Purple and orange both looked like they were also trying to ignore their bickering brothers. You held up your notepad, giving the two a soft smile, “what can I get for you?” 

The smaller one jumped in his seat with excitement, ordering a grilled cheese with a peppermint mocha. His companion in violet spoke with elaborate words that were hard to understand , but you made out that he wanted a tall coffee, dark, with one sugar. “Right away, mr…?” You quirked a brow, and Purple seemed to jump at the opportunity, “Donatello, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He beamed proudly at his introduction, forgetting to offer his hand. 

“And I’m Mikey!” the shorter one said, a bright smile still on his face as he shook your hand. 

You returned the smile, “a pleasure.” 

Making your way to the other side of the bar, you noticed the other brothers had ceased their quarrel, bringing relief to your system.. as well as an idea. 

No.. no it was too petty… or.. was it..? 

Holding up your notebook, your eyes shifted on Red, wordlessly demanding his order first. The turtle seemed to stumble, glancing at the menu several times and swallowing his anxiety. To a degree you could empathize with him, but you had to let this play out. 

“I’ll get uh.. Um er a.. “ he fiddled with the ends of his bandana, feeling the stare of his unimpressed brother in blue - who, surprisingly, didn’t interrupt. 

“A tall cinnamon apple coffee please, and a — a lemon square.” He gave a weak chuckle, and sighed with relief. 

As Blue opened his mouth to order, you promptly turned on your heel, already at your station setting up the coffee machine. You heard sounds of shock and snorts from behind you, but had to hold in your own chuckles. “Uh… hellloooo..?” Blue called, “I didn’t .. order..?” At his attempt to get your attention, you could hear his brothers start to snicker more, along with a few ‘shut up!’s and ‘cut it out!’s.

With a satisfied smirk on your face, you set the food of the others down near them, and then turned to leave. “Wah— hey!!” Blue called, and this time, you stopped in the doorway. “Hmm??” You glanced over your shoulder, making sure you seemed unsuspecting. “What’s with the cold shoulder?” He half laughed, “are you just not gonna take my order?” 

This time you couldn’t help the chuckle that left you, “oh, I’m so sorry, sir.” You lifted a hand, miming cleaning out your ear, “I guess I’m a little hard of hearing to people who slam my door open.” You mirrored the smirk he had given you earlier, purring quietly at your victory.

His brothers all but exploded. Laughter, teasing, you name it — blue was in for it now. Giving a strangled smile, he made a sort of ‘guiii..’ noise, avoiding your eyes. Truth be told, he had seen you jump when the door opened. Sure, he felt bad about it!! But admit that in front of his brothers?? You were basically giving him the death penalty!! “Look, uh, “ he tried his best to play it off, “I think we got off on the wrong foot..” 

“You mean kick?” You slipped in immediately, quirking a brow. 

Blue stared at you for a second, before his eyes widened, a smile spreading on his face before an unmistakable “pFF—“ left his mouth, riling up to actual laughter. He was laughing!? At your joke!? Your half-assed joke that was supposed to make him uncomfortable!??

“Where’d you get wit like that?” He leaned forward in his chair, oblivious to the way his brothers rolled their eyes, no longer interested. (Other than Mikey, who would occasionally glance at you two.) 

Unfortunately for you, his eyes sparkled intently, waiting for your answer with a joy in his eyes that you couldn’t place. “Uh..” your ears twitched, hearing a sound that was similar to a purr, and yet entirely different- and from him? Could turtles purr? Were you hallucinating? At the twitch of your tail, you flicked those curiosities away, keen on giving him a quick response. “Why? Did yours run dry?”

“Me? Dry?” He laughed deeply, “You don’t know how wrong you are..” he shook his head knowingly, outstretching a hand, “Leo. Leonardo.” He grinned, and, as you took his hand, he pulled you in close, “and I’ll have an iced caramel macchiato.” He clicked his tongue and winked, his smile wide as if he knew he’d won. “ Shouldn’t be hard for someone like you, Y/N.” 

Heat rose in your chest as he let you go, feeling your hair stand on end. It wasn’t unnatural for someone to read from your nametag, but hearing it like that somehow gave you chills, and you couldnt even begin to wonder why. You coughed, seeing Mikey’s shocked face in your peripheral, “Iced, huh?” You regained composure, turning back to Leonardo as if you had never gotten flustered, “isn’t it a little cold outside?“ you went back to make his coffee, trying to ignore the way your head had spun at his touch. 

“You know where it’s also cold?” Leo sighed, leaning back in his chair, “Run of the mill, 8:00 pm tomorrow evening.” The sound of the coffee machine nearly covered his chuckle, “I hear it’s supposed to be frigid~” 

..

He did not. 

“Really?” The sound of the coffee machine simmered down, allowing you to set up the drink with ease. Setting it in front of him, you gave him a small smile.

“Guess I’ll have to check it out.” 

[veryrealimagination]

The next time James Pendrick came through Toronto, it was with discretion. It seemed that every time he came back to the beloved city, it was met with disastrous consequences. His traitor of a wife, multiple inventions either destroyed or hidden, Terrence Meyers, Allen Clegg, his thoughts about saving the future, all in tragedy.

He also did so due to the nature of his visit.

With a hat pulled low, he made his way over to the small little bar at the end of an alleyway. James had been taken here prior by his paramour and they agreed to keep doing so when he was in town. It was easier to sneak away to whatever room he would be renting for the week. His home kept out visitors, so he was unable to take him in there. Once James managed to find places of discretion, he usually search out.

The place had a crooner as singer tonight. The song was heartbreaking, but their voice was smooth as some bourbons he’s had down in the American South. This time, he tried a house bottle and waited for his companion to show up. It took an hour, in which the singer went through another heartbreak story, a story about a dog, and something about a crossroads, before someone unceremoniously dropped in the chair beside him. “I was beginning to think that tonight wasn’t a good one,” he whispered.

“It almost wasn’t,” Llewellyn Watts muttered, “It’s a nasty case at work. Murdoch has a few theories, but Brackenreid sent us all home.” He glanced at the man sitting next to him. “Well, close to it, at least.” A shared smile, before they turned back to the stage. A glass of wine instead of a harder liquor, and they caught up on their own adventures. One glass turned into a third one before he allowed himself to kiss the man on the cheek. “We should head to the next place before I am unable to keep my tact.”

Through his second glass, James smiled in amusement before paying their tab and helping the man up.

-

The morning was warm.

James was curled around his bedmate, holding them in a stranglehold as he received the same. While they were bare under the sheets, nothing physical was happening. That was all last night, as the crispness of his sheets attested. While his body was performing its routine checks to make sure that he was still in working order, it appeared that it would not simply be a check for the other man as Watts’s body reacted in kind.

Then, lips found his collar bone. “Llewellyn,” he murmured. A hand, coated, started giving him delightful pleasure. “Ahhh.” The man then moved on top of him, continuing his ‘assault’.

Knocking on the door interrupted them. The man above him growled, surprising James but he felt a thrill at the noise. “If this is the same as last time…”

“Last time?”

He nodded, but wasn’t able to explain. This time, the knocking came with someone talking. *“James, it’s Murdoch and Thomas,”* a familiar voice called on the other side.

The younger man dropped his head on James. His delightful ministrations also stopped. “Almost exactly the same,” he pouted.

“Oh really?”

The man nodded against his chest. “A previous fling, he started something while I was trying to get ready, then Murdoch showed up.” He raised his head. “There’s not going to stop until seeing you. I believe I will hide in the water closet until they leave.”

James understood that, allowing the man to take one of the blankets from the bed to wrap himself in before grabbing a robe to cover himself. Opening the door, the two men were not impressed at his tardiness in answering. Or the fact he had not even started for the day. “Pendrick,” Murdoch said, forcing his way in.

“Murdoch, what a lovely surprise.” He nodded at Thomas, who he stepped aside to let in. “What is it now? I do believe I haven’t even started any sort of revolutionary experiments that would allow me to be targeted.”

Thomas led the nicer conversation. “Ashmi was broken out of jail, and explicitly killed by the person that did it,” he informed, “Discovered yesterday, dead for at least twenty four hours prior. Last night, we found the same for Sam Trenwith.”

Oh, well. “Well, if it happened last night, I can assure you, I was quite preoccupied.”

“Really?”

Murdoch, who had been paying attention a small bit, saw that there was more clothing that would be normal even for Pendrick to have been there for a few days. In fact, there was something about the suit…

“Incredibly vigorous discussion on the properties of a new material I have been working on. Stayed up until the Devil’s hour, when I almost dropped my drink.”

Brackenreid noticed with amusement when Murdoch rubbed the bridge of his nose after picking up a jacket. “That’s not what was dropped,” he panned. Looking over to his superior, he walked over to the water closet. “Get out here.”

The amusement grew. “Had some company last night, James?” He looked around for a lady’s corset or some undergarments. “Did she leave before you awoke?”

“Watts, get out of the closet!”

The Inspector glanced over in confusion. “Watts?”

Murdoch pointed at three different areas. “That was the suit Watts was wearing yesterday. Long johns are in the corner, while Pendrick threw his over by his suit. Tie on the bed, I recognize the pattern.” He pounded on the door. “Llewellyn Watts, you open this door and face this!”

The comment about company last night and what they were actually doing ran through Brackenreid’s mind. “Bloody hell.” Then, he focused on James. “You had sex with my younger detective?”

“You were more amused when you thought it was a woman,” he mentioned, trying to not get into more trouble and not realizing that it would be the opposite.

Murdoch, quite annoyed, tried the door knob and found it locked. A quick flick and a pick was in his hand. It wasn’t much to unlock the cheap thing and push the door open. “Get over here,” he hissed, dragging out the younger man by the ear. He stopped by the Inspector. “James Pendrick?!”

Watts made sure the bedding was covering his lower half, but his shoulders were left bare and he didn’t want to keep shrugging it up. “I do not perceive the problem of my current paramour, Murdoch,” he defended, twisting around. Murdoch had not let go of his ear.

Brackenreid pointed at Watts. “Two weeks of paperwork!”

“What?!” he yelped, both from the punishment he was receiving and the ear twisting that was still happening.

“Two weeks of paperwork, I’m having Mitchell watch you. Don’t trust Crabtree or Higgins to not allow you out. No after work ‘meetings’ with James Pendrick ever again.”

“I do not understand the issue you have with James. He has been shown numerous times to be an innocent and patient individual when events in his life conspire to ruin it and you have to continuously investigate him.” He pointed at Murdoch from an awkward angle. “You, of all, should be delighted that it wasn’t the same person that you caught me with the last time!”

Oh, he hated the reminder of that. “James Pendrick has an unfortunate track of bringing trouble.”

“So do you, I, the Inspector and most of the people in and connected to Station House Four,” Watts argued.

“Bloody hell,” the man repeated, “Get dressed, and we’re all going down to the Station.”

[otherworldlyhope]

Started another project because I literally can't stop myself now. Remember all that time ago when I proposed the idea of a Bdubs secret agent au? Well I wrote it.

It's called The Flowers in Your Eyes and I'm really excited for it! I'll post the first chapter here, and the rest will be on my ao3.

Chapter 1: Hail to the King

CW: death, gun violence Words: 3,843

Hidden deep within Aquatown, far from the prying eyes of the public is a warehouse. Its unassuming looks often turn people away, a simple stone facade with a metal shingle roof. The inside is always dark whether night or day. Maybe at one time it had been used for storage or anything normal, but now it has a completely different purpose.

Just below this warehouse lies a complicated door guarded by snarling dogs and a woman with a stoic expression that never leaves her face. If deemed worthy the door will open, leading to dozens more security measures. Fingerprint scanners, passcodes, and various other tasks lie in wait before any of the other doors can be open. Only after all these tests are passed is the final door opened, and the facade of the warehouse is completely stripped away.

Hermitcraft Environmental Protection, otherwise known as HEP, is both a well known and mysterious agency. To the broad public it’s merely a protection group. Volunteers in orange shirts take to the streets once a week and clean Aquatown of any dangerous substances that may threaten the town. HEP is happily spearheaded by the gracious mayor of the town. With his gleaming smile, and genuine love for his town there is no doubt in the trustworthiness of HEP. After all, how bad can a single company really be?

To the unfortunate few in the city that are aware, HEP is far from an environmental force. The true HEP is still mostly unknown, a select few know surface level details, but no one besides enemies and those on the inside are truly aware of HEP’s activities. Most of those who know about the true intentions of the agency usually don’t last long enough to tell another soul anyways.

Mysterious assassinations of greedy politicians, distribution of various drugs, intelligence gathering and many other shady tasks regarding the city falls on the shoulders of those working at the true HEP. It’s not a glamorous job, but it does pay well, and once you’re in you can never really get out. Well you can, but it usually it's in a coffin.

At the center of HEP is the mysterious agent known as DoubleO. He has been in his position from the very start of the agency, appointed by the mayor himself. While many were skeptical at first, he quickly proved his abilities. With dozens of recorded eliminations and countless unrecorded, there has never been an agent that has come close to his level of proficiency. Despite all attempts of less than savory parties, no one has been able to find a single bit of information on this person, and they never will.

DoubleO stands on a rooftop, his jacket whipping in the wind that funnels through gaps in the nearby buildings. He’s only two stories up, a fall that he can take easily, in fact he intends on taking it soon. Just down the street is a brightly lit bar full of college students. Their loud voices fill the block, and it makes him smile. It’s always good to have some good cover sound. Missions done in absolute silence always have him so much more on edge.

With a sigh he sits down, his entire back popping with the movement. Void, he really needs to go to his chiropractor, it’s been far too long since he got put in place and he could benefit from it now. He slides his gloves on, stretching his fingers to make sure they don't hinder his mobility in any way. The white fabric shines under the moonlight, but it doesn't catch his eye. It never does.

He slides his briefcase across the tiled rooftop towards him, unlocking it with a simple key. There’s a slight click as he flips open the latches and takes in the sight of the weapon before him. His eyes scan the contents for only a moment before he’s grabbing parts. With practiced motions he puts every piece in place, not even needing to double check his work.

Maybe a year ago he would have checked again and made sure that all the pins were done correctly, but now he has no doubt in his skills. It takes barely a minute to have the gun wholly assembled and balanced on the edge of the building. He pulls himself into position, laying across the tile.

The back of the gun is placed firmly against his shoulder as he moves the scope to be perfectly aligned. A voice sounds in his ear, but he doesn’t jump or even twitch despite the loud volume.

“DoubleO, the target is three minutes out, coming from the south. Black sedan, middle seat in the back row. There are three guards with him, others ready to be on site in minutes.”

“Got it X.” He says curtly, not wanting to say any more than he needs to on the rare chance that someone is in the alley below him. It would be unfortunate to add another unofficial name to his little black book, so he tries his best to keep himself inconspicuous.

He doesn’t move at all in the span of two minutes, only flexing his fingers over the trigger to make sure they don't get too tense. He’s learned from his previous mistakes to not hold them tight against the metal. As X gives him the one minute warning he begins his routine.

Breathe in for ten, then out for fifteen.

Relax the shoulders, and let them drop right into place.

Pull the pointer finger to the trigger and simply wait with held breath.

Not once in his three years of doing this has he broken this routine, and it has never failed him in return. Well, once it did. But he doesn't count that circumstance.

The black sedan pulls up to the sidewalk and the only person who steps out is a large man in the passenger seat. He pulls a radio to his mouth, scanning the streets for signs of anyone. Not once do his eyes find DoubleO’s scope. Only when he deems it clear does he knock on the window.

The two guards exit next, standing on both sides of the target as he finally emerges. His head glows in the moonlight, a lack of hair being a very reflective surface. He’s taller than both the guards at his side. At that observation DoubleO’s mouth turns up into a smile. Fantastic.

To the guards’ credit, they do a rather good job at keeping the target well covered. Unfortunately for them DoubleO is better than rather good at his job. He doesn’t let them even take a step, aiming directly where the moon shines on a hairless scalp.

It takes seven and a half pounds of pressure to pull the trigger on this particular rifle and he does it with ease. The back hits his shoulder harshly as a boom rings out across the street. He only takes a second to make sure the target is down before dropping his head and rolling to the side. The guards shout as they try to place where the shot had even come from.

By the time they figure out the building, DoubleO is already at the far edge. He rolls over it without a second thought, angling himself to favorably hit the ground. A slight weightlessness comes over him before rudely being interrupted by concrete. Still he takes it in stride, rolling into his feet with little effort.

The second he’s on the ground he’s pulling off the gloves and all his layers. They are neatly folded in his hands as he walks, his eyes focused on an old beat up Honda parked on the street. By the time he’s stripped of all identifying clothing he’s at the car. Without as much as a misstep in his gait he drops the clothes and his earpiece in the open window, barely nodding at the man inside.

The whir of a window rolling up fills his ears as he tugs his light gray sleeves down. The fabric is itchy on his skin, the seams in all the wrong places. Just as he hears yells echoing on the street, he ducks into the still rowdy bar. The bartender catches his eyes immediately and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

DoubleO picks a seat at the end of the bar and before he’s even down, the bartender has placed a half filled bottle of beer and a laptop before him. The seat is uncomfortable, a velvet lined backless barstool. Still he leans forward, pulling his elbows onto the bar. One hand wraps around the neck of the beer, and the other holds his face up.

The sweatshirt on his back bears the mascot of the nearby college, and on his laptop is a partially finished homework assignment. With almost no effort he blends right into the crowd of partying students. Just as he raises the bottle to his lips does he see the guards from before in his peripheral.

There’s much more than three and he’s almost impressed how quickly they mobilized. Still he focuses his gaze back to the laptop, lazily eyeing the problems in front of him. It’s chemistry, and immediately his face turns in disgust. The bartender smiles at his expression and leans forward on the counter.

“You regretting taking chemistry yet?” He asks casually, tapping his fingers against the bar. His eyes barely dart to the door, but DoubleO’s stay directly where they are. “I’ve been told that professor is an absolute nightmare .”

So there’s two of the guards entering the bar. DoubleO enthusiastically nods before taking another swig of the beer. It hits the bar top hard as he throws his hands out in an annoyed way.

“Every day I wish that I took psychology.” He sighs, then goes for another drink, making a show when he realizes the bottle is empty. An exhausted exhale leaves him as his whole body deflates onto the bar. “While I’m doing this dumb research paper, they’re doing nice little group projects. My dad was right, I shouldn't have gone into the sciences.”

He barely catches the way the seat two away from him settles. One of the guards sits heavily, rubbing his eyes as he waves the bartender over.

“I’ll take whatever he’s having.” The guard sighs, waving his hand towards DoubleO.

“Good choice.” The bartender says, grabbing two bottles from below the bar. One goes to DoubleO and one goes to the guard.

He starts to lay the act on hard, annoyed that the guard is sitting there and not just doing a quick sweep like he should be.

“Hey Ed,” DoubleO pauses, drunkenly waving his hand over his beer. “Wait, that's your name right?” When the bartender starts to correct him he just shakes his head and talks even louder. “Whatever. Did you know that with my gpa I could have gone to any college I wanted? But my dumb parents wanted me to stay close or whatever. I could have gone to like Harvard or somethin’, Harvard Ed.” He emphasizes every syllable, making a complete fool of himself as he slurs over random words.

Ed only rolls his eyes, pulling the beer away from him before he can take another sip.

“I think I might have to cut you off kid, that’s one too many when you’re supposed to be doing homework.”

So the other guard has left, it’s go time.

“Hey, that's unfair.” DoubleO whines, leaning over the bar to try and grab the bottle back. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can and I am. Now go home.” The bartender turns, setting the bottle on the second to right coaster. DoubleO notes it with pursed lips and then dramatically flops onto the bar. After a few seconds he props his head up, glancing up at the guard through half lidded eyes.

“Hey man.” He pokes the guard, giggling at the harsh glance he gets back. “Do you have any cigarettes? I promise I’ll like pay for your beer or somethin’, but I ran out and I am way too drunk to get some more . ” He sings that last part, internally cringing.

The guard sighs before nodding, casting a look at Ed who points to the no smoking sign. “Let’s head outside, kid.”

DoubleO stands quickly, then almost falls directly on his face. The guard reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him to his feet.

“Thanks mister, you’re nicer than my own parents ya know?” He mumbles as they exit the bar. DoubleO leads them into the alley beside it, greedily reaching out. “They hate smokin’, said it’ll give me cancer or somethin’. So I told them I’ll become a chemist and cure cancer so I can smoke all I want.”

He laughs heartily at his own words. The guard finally drops his wall a bit, giving him a placating smile and reassuring words.

“Hey did you see someone come in that bar in the last few minutes?” The guard says as he pulls a cigarette from the box. DoubleO all but rips it from his hands, and holds it to the lighter the guard produces. He makes a show of thinking as he pulls the cigarette to his lips.

“Uhhhhhh.” He leans against the wall, blowing the smoke right into the guard’s face with a laugh. “There was this one guy, all shady lookin’. He went to the bathroom after almost makin’ me spill my beer on myself. I was so mad.”

Gotcha.

The second the guard turns to look back at the alley entrance, DoubleO is moving. He drops the cigarette and reaches out, wrapping his forearm around the guard’s neck. His other hand comes up to stabilize the chokehold.

“Shhhh.” He hushes the gurgling man, slowly dragging him back towards a now opening door. His smile is wide as he rolls his eyes. “You’re gonna blow my cover.”

The bartender has opened the back door, holding it open as DoubleO drags the almost unconscious guard into the break room. He only tightens his grip when they’re out of the open space, and waits until the man goes limp against him. The second he does, he drops him, letting him fall into a heap of limp limbs and cigarette smoke.

“X is gonna be happy about this one.” The bartender looks down at the guard with an uncomfortable smile. “He was just complaining about how they were getting no info from Mr. Bright, but this should make his day.”

DoubleO rubs his eyes as he searches for something to tie the guy’s hands with. “I’m so glad he’s gonna be happy.” He says dryly, drawing out the so. “But tell him I hate the freaking bar jobs. Acting drunk is the absolute worst.”

“You’re so good at it though.”

“Oh shut up Mumbo.”

Mumbo only rolls his eyes, pulling the edge of his mustache with his fingers. “It’s not like we had much of a choice in the matter. He wasn’t supposed to sit down. He saw your face for far too long.”

“I know, I know.” DoubleO gripes, finally finding a length of rope that he fastens around the man’s wrists. “I have a dinner to get to tonight and this was supposed to be a quick in and out.”

“I’m sure Scar will understand.” Mumbo says. There’s a beat of silence and then the two erupt in laughter. Mumbo has to wipe his eyes afterwards, curling over his stomach.

“Sometimes you’re the funniest guy I know, Mumbo.” DoubleO chuckles, lightly punching the other man’s shoulder. “Do you think you can handle this guy until they pick him up?”

“Yeah.” Mumbo sighs, lightly kicking the man over. “I already called X so the team should be on their way soon.”

“Alright then I’m gonna dip. I gotta hurry if I want to get to dinner at a reasonable time.” DoubleO crosses the room, pulling the handle of the door. “I’m so screwed.”

“Alright I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a motorcycle waiting just around the back of the bar when DoubleO turns the corner. He pulls the helmet on and curses X under his breath.

“You couldn’t have gotten me a car or something?” He mutters. “I’m gonna have to fix my hair and I’m already running late…”

He continues to complain to himself as he gets on the bike and kicks it on. The purr of the engine does settle him down a bit, and he quite enjoys speeding through the back alleys until he can merge onto a main road.

He checks his watch and sighs, pulling off onto a side street. He definitely doesn’t have time to go back to his apartment, so one of his safehouses will have to do. A lack of a shower doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s already far too late.

He basically runs through the parking garage, pulling the helmet off as he rushes through the seemingly abandoned building. The keypad has dust gathering on its keys as he punches in the code, and he hastily wipes his finger on his shirt. There’s no way he’s wearing this to dinner with the freaking mayor.

Luckily he’s prepared for these circumstances and finds much nicer clothes in the safe house. White button up and black slacks go on quickly, his shoes are still trainers, but he’ll have to make do. He musses his hair in the mirror and groans at the way the helmet pressed strands of it down it stupid ways. Whatever, he’s got to go anyway.

The bike is nice enough to calm his mood and by the time he pulls up to the building he’s feeling much better. The woman in the lobby waves at him as he passes like she always does, and he nods like every other time. When he enters the elevator there’s no buttons, but it starts to rise all the same.

This is really the only time he gets nervous honestly. Scar has always made him feel that way, and it wasn’t even really his fault. Just how things have played out up until this point still has the agent taking calming breaths before their meetings. He does a once over of his clothes in the reflective surface of the elevator and fusses over his collar before the ding of the door brings him back to where he is.

He clears his throat once before stepping out, marveling at the view just beyond him. The mayor was quite good at pulling strings, and so they would meet in this random skyscraper that DoubleO doesn’t think actually belongs to a company. They dine at the top floor with tinted windows and sound canceling walls. This is where the business is done.

His eyes flit over the Aquatown and then finally settle on the man sitting at the table just by the window. His hands are crossed over his chest, an obviously fake smile on his face. Once he meets DoubleO’s eyes he pointedly looks down at his own watch.

“Sorry Scar.” He apologizes, sitting across the table with him as quickly as he can. The white napkin in front of him goes on his lap as he actively avoids looking at the mayor. “Mr. Bright’s guards ended up being more of a nuisance than we thought. We did manage to get one for interrogation though, so overall I think it worked out.”

The mayor simply hums as he sips a red wine from his glass. The scar on his cheek pulls and DoubleO looks away quickly.

“I guess I can excuse it.” There’s a joking tone to his voice, but DoubleO knows Scar well enough that he can tell he’s not amused. “Is all that business going to be wrapped up then?”

DoubleO nods quickly, grabbing his own glass with slightly shaky hands. Weirdly enough these meetings always feel like having dinner with guardians after getting in trouble. He tries not to dwell on that though.

“After the interrogation we should be good, I was going to follow up on the Glasby family as their ties with Bright are too large to ignore. I-”

“That’s actually why I called you here today.” He falls silent as Scar speaks. “I’m assigning you to a long term undercover mission starting next week. All the information you need is in these files here.”

He pushes a rather large stack of papers towards DoubleO, who can only stare at Scar in shock. His mouth is wide open as he blinks, sure he’s heard it wrong.

“Me? Undercover?” His voice is slightly hoarse so he clears his throat. “You know that I don't really do that sort of thing. I’m sure Mumbo would be really happy to do it. That’s like his whole thing.”

“Mumbo is working on the new MooPop factory with Cub and Tango. Believe me, I’ve thought through all the options and I am confident that you can pull this off.” Scar puts his hand out, his tone softening just a bit as the agent grabs it. “You used to love undercover work, just remember that you’re the best for a reason. I didn’t take you off the streets just for you to doubt yourself like this.”

“What if I mess up again?”

Scar’s eyes darken for just a moment, his fingers squeezing tightly against DoubleO’s. Then just as quickly as it came, it disappears. “You won’t. I believe in you.”

DoubleO’s entire frame relaxes against the chair as he nods. “Alright, give me a rundown.”

Scar beams at his words and grabs some papers of his own.

“It’s much more detailed in the files, but this here is your target.” He scans the picture, seeing a pretty regular looking guy. The only really weird things are his white hair and the rather large scar over his left eye and spanning down his cheek. “His name is Etho Slab, at least that’s what he says it is. We are confident he’s a Mycelium Resistance member, and a quite high level one at that.”

DoubleO sucks in a breath, suddenly seeing the man with new eyes. There’s a slight feeling of familiarity, like he’s seen those eyes before.

“We’re dropping you in as a store owner that’s attached to a cafe he regularly goes to. Your apartment will also be relatively close as well. The goal is to become friends with him, get him convinced you want to join the resistance when he eventually spills, then get all the information you can.”

“Why don't I just nab him at the cafe and we get the information ourselves? I bet X could get it out of him.” DoubleO asks, leaning against the table with an elbow.

“With his status it’s highly unlikely we’ll get anything from him. That group is stubbornly loyal, so you just need to find a way to join in, get the information, and get out.”

“Sounds easy enough.” DoubleO says dryly.

“Exactly!” Scar exclaims.

“I was kidding. This is going to be awful.”

[moonogre]

Hello T! I would like to write to you with good news, if I can remain coherent enough.

It’s another absurd summer Friday in Montreal. My cousin J touches down for the first time in the city after the sky bursts open with the heaviest showers from the season. When I see J at the bus terminal I burst into tears, which I am prone to doing when I am often overcome with positive emotions. We swap tales: J tells me about an eight hour pedestrian lay over in New York City that is a skin crawling fever dream of grimy labrynthian metros, super sized rats, and escape routes predicated on the kindness of random strangers. They had also narrowly avoided some manner of altercation at Jamaica Station involving panhandlers and cocaine. My story is that I hadn’t finished tidying the apartment for their arrival because a last minute first date had devolved into a tousled half day of bed pleasures. My latest lover had left and came back and I had mostly tried to flirt my way past the strange things I revealed about myself over sweet cocktails and hand rolled pasta in my neighbourhood watering hole: how I had moved around a lot as a child, how my family had succumbed to the strange collective hypnosis of a religious order, how they had came focus on my quirks to an abusive extent, how my mother had hit me for the umpteenth and final time before I had pushed her down the stairs, and how all that business had come to an end only after that. We had laughed and I tried to assure her that I’m more sweet than creepy and it works despite my knife collection, shibari paintings and preserved organ specimens.

B picks up J and I and we go to a place where we can drink cocktails from a golden swan. We holler and laugh over mounting absurdities: are we meant to dress in leather for a fetish party we had been invited to tomorrow? Is B having another threesome— his second in a fortnight— with a charming gentleman that looked the splitting image of Mac DeMarco? We drink tequila in B’s jeep which has been affectionately termed the “car bar” for the evening. We go to another location: a basement speakeasy filled with smoke and hot with all the dancers sweating it out to disco. Our bartender looks like a runway model and makes us drinks: B has a Rusty Prick, J has an Apple a Day and I ask for “a fruity cocktail that is perfect for a basic bitch,” which turns out to be something sweet and delicious. We dance and are joined by a gaggle of girls, and one makes eyes at me and tells me that we should twerk together all night and make men buy us drinks. I laugh and my phone is dead, as per usual, and I cannot take her number; which is a shame because of our escalating flirtations. Her friends take J and B and I to another hidden bar within the speakeasy that is a tiny affair and there are hundreds of eucalyptus bundles handing from the ceiling. We are five rounds of tequila shots deep when we decide that it’s time to call it a night: during our hasty exit we run into B’s threesome prospects and I bend over cackling from the enjoyable stupidity of the night. We can’t leave now, so we go back in and I tell B that I am here to babysit this threesome into existence. There is a man break dancing and waving around a cane. Another man moved to me on the dance floor and holds me in his arms and whispers that he thinks I am the one for him and that I won’t ever break his heart and I laugh and agree despite knowing that none of these things are true: this is a ploy to get me, J, B and B’s potential bedfellows free alcohol. I am a lesbian and have no intention on remembering anything about this man past my letter to you. B sees this all unfold and laughs at me from across the room, and rescues me when my dance partner becomes too insistent in his necking, which may have been fine had I been awarded with the drinks I had asked for. But they never came.

B makes good progress getting to know the folks for the ménage-a-tois. J and I stumble back outside and I insist we retire for the evening. I abandon B to his machinations. J and I cackle the whole way home.

We miss you. We love you. We are happy! We promise 🥰

[thelaundrybitch]

Dusty Lore

**TW** Death, murder, and abduction are mentioned in the Notes portion.

Name: Dustin Ivy Petiole 

Nicknames: Dusty, Ives

Age: 28

Birthday: June 6, 1995

Siblings: Dahlia Petiole 

Parents: Viola (Willoughby) and Oliver Petiole

Grandparents: Petal and Stanley Petiole

Cousins: Evelyn "Liv" Benissimo, Ashley Bligh

Species: Human

Ht: 5’7”                                                                                             

Wt: 150 lbs 

Pronouns: She/her

Preferences: Love is Love

Tattoos/piercings: a couple of cartilage piercings and 2 in each lobe.

Tattoo of violets on her left foot and olive branches on her inner right wrist.

Position: Private Investigator 

Weapons: can throw a punch. Or kick your ass (thanks Drese). Knows how to level an attacker thanks to Petal teaching her where all the pressure points in the body are.

Build/Physical descript: muscular but still soft and feminine. Kickboxer. Also a dancer.

Dark auburn red hair, that comes to mid-back.

Violet eyes - like her mother's.

Lithe body of a dancer with the hidden strength of a kickboxer.

Can usually be found wearing a nice pair of jeans with a pair of sneakers, and a cute top.

Loves zip-up hoodies.

Likes a nice manicure.

Has a habit of putting her hair up in 2 buns on top of her head - she's done it since she was little. She loved Birdie's ears and wanted cat ears for herself, so her grandmother used to help her put her hair up in two buns.

Occasionally wears glasses if the contacts are bothering her eyes.

Used to wear colored contacts because people would tease and question her purple eye color.

Notes:

Petal and Dusty were raised by their wealthy grandparents after their parents died.

To this day they still believe there was foul play but the cops were never able to prove it 

This is why Dusty became a PI

She's still on the hunt for her parents' murderers (yes they were murdered but more on that later)

Dusty was young.

About 4 years old. And Grandma had been a college professor previously. But when the Petiole's obtained custody of their grandchildren, she stopped teaching and stayed home.

About a year later Grandma Petal (Petal's middle name comes from her grandma), got a call from her long-time friend - Grandma Bougainvillea, who explained the situation with Birdie.

Grandma Petal told Grandma Bougainvillea that it would be an honor to tutor Birdie, so long as she could tutor Dusty right alongside her.

The Bougainvillea's agreed, and Grandma Petal became the full-time teacher in the Bougainvillea household.

She's sassy, witty, and a certified genius. Got into Julliard on a full scholarship.  This was where she met Drese, and the two became super close. The girls worked together at the local bar-restaurant. Drese was the reason Dusty took up kickboxing. The girls were cornered by a group of uncouth men - this was one of Drese's *moments*. She killed the group of men trying to abduct them in order to save her and Dusty.

After that she made Dusty choose a form of fighting, so she wouldn't have to worry about her walking home at night when Drese wasn't working the same shift. (It was rare, but it did happen).

She currently lives in the city and shares an apartment with Petal, much to Petal's chagrin. Dusty is insistent on staying with Petal since <the abduction incident> and won't be leaving her side anytime soon. She protects her older sister at all costs.

~Tags~

@leosgirl82 @sharpwindow @post-apocalyptic-daydream @shiftandshade @scholastic-dragon @m1dnyt3-w0lf @eveandtheturtles @red-phoenixxx @happymoonangel @miss-andromeda

**If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in my other OC-related posts OR if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

[calliedion-dungeon]

𖤓Sore Kisses

Picture Kath on Pinterest

Chapter 4. Gimme Sympathy

Read on ao3 here <<<

Warnings: MDNI +18, Smoking, Heavy Drinking, Fluff and Angst (later) Swearing, Crossdressing (later), Adult Content, Eventual Smut, Blonde Mary Goore!! Everyone is a Little Shit in here, later it gets all Soft and Smutty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Trope.

A few weeks later, you were able to exhibit your work that you have been developing throughout the year at the art school, you don't like to invite anyone to the last exhibition that happens every end of course, but Frank, as he is, upon finding out that it would be the last exhibition, he organized everyone to go see your work, there was nowhere to hide when you saw startled the group approach you as you were talking with one of your favorite teachers about a scholarship that they were offering you.

The arts school where you study has several small rooms that make up the gallery, the building is quite old, since at some point it was the first school in the history of the city, becoming its heritage, the wooden boards that they cover the floor they creaked all over the place, people had already gotten used to the sound of each creaky step, the walls of the whole school were white, that didn't make it boring because there was always something on display created by the students, these walls were adapted so that nobody had the need to paint or scratch them.

The teacher noticed you were somewhat distracted when you saw the small group enter the gallery, you mentioned that your friend brought company, they really didn't stand out that much in the art school, there were people who were the same or more alternative, but for you, it was as if they were walking with a beam of light on top, you didn't know why, you were looking for him with your eyes, with relief you found him, although a few seconds later, you consciously realized that and changed your mind.

It was unusual for your eyes to see Frank’s friends in a place at broad daylight, so illuminated, they always seemed to be nocturnal creatures in hidden bars and alleys, you could even see details on everyone's faces that you couldn't in a dark and smoky place, as it usually happened. You couldn't deny them entry, besides, if they were there it was because they wanted to, right? It was bizarre to say the least, not in a million years you would’ve asked them to come, you see Nick looking around, and of course with Cami, but Mary? Didn’t he had nothing better to do?

When they greet you they already know that it must be from afar, no one tries to kiss you on the cheek or shake your hand anymore, you appreciate that, you see carefully that they do not approach your drawings and photographs, but Frank guides his people to see them when he finds your hanging works on the walls.

They pour out praise that you don't know whether to believe or not, but you say thank you anyway, because you have no way to deny their compliments, when Mary stands next to you, you cross your arms looking away, he looks at your photographs and not in a hurry, he observes intently and that makes you nervous, because one of the photographs is a self-portrait, all this was much easier without people who knew you around.

“They are all naked, the quiet ones always have their kinky side, uh?” he teases near for you to hear, how dare he insinuate that this is something made for vulgar delight, you turn to look at him, squinting.

“It’s called study of human form, idiot” he makes that stupid smug face, because again, you fell for it.

“Are they models?” his tone doesn’t change, as if he ignored your words, walking slowly closer to you, following the path that you’re blocking ‘cause you’re covering your photo from him.

“Yeah, people volunteer to be drawn or photographed, this is my roommate, Jenn, they’re very muscular” you point to a picture of your roommate doing a push-up, to make all their muscles show you did a trick with light and shadows.

“Cool, so I can model, then?” just as he gives you a toothy grin, quickly you turn your face away knotting your brows.

“I hardly think anyone will find something worth picturing…” you couldn't finish insulting him because you feel something gently push your shoulder to get you out of front of the photo.

“You don’t know what I got… This… oh damn! Nice! Who is this?” he exclaims openly and whistles “How do we know her?” you curse inside, only letting out your grunting and frowning, your self-portrait photo is also a nude, it is your image overlaid in various poses placed inside a tub, a wet cloth covers your face and the pink water only covers your mons pubis, everything else was perfectly visible, you wouldn't mind if you hadn't noticed beforehand that he wasn't looking at your work as art.

“Read the tag, genius” As soon as he reads the tag, his face turns red, you expected that by reading he would understand that it was you and he would walk away in terror, but no, now he was looking more carefully, somehow his eyes look darker “No! Frank! tell him stop watching!”

Because of your whining, Frank appears thinking that Mary is bothering you again, when he realizes what is happening, he covers his face in the direction of your photo, incredibly uncomfortable as the shameless metalhead keeps staring at your figure, before anyone could say anything else, your phone rings.

Mary didn't even hear that your phone had rung and that's why you had left, he thought you were upset because he was looking insistently at your photograph, the white corridors of the unknown school had him confused where to go to look for you, but it didn't last too long for him to hear your yelling in a room at the end of the hall, you were alone next to a piano with the phone in hand talking angrily. Determined to make sure that you’re not angry at him, he waits outside for a bit, peering through the windows of the door.

“…The fucking landlord is throwing us out?... What did you do!?” your growing vexation sweated from all your pores, impotence overflows your voice, you don't want to cry because you know that Jenn will too as soon as you hang up the phone “Un-fucking-believable, dude! What am I supposed to do?” you hang up the phone wanting to throw it even if it gets destroyed, but it's all you have at the moment, you can't even think straight.

You let yourself fall on the bench defeated, squeezing your lips with tears in your eyes, anger invades you more than you can control, especially being alone you let it out in the form of bitter tears which you don't even bother to wipe away, you stay a moment like that in your seat.

Mary walks into the room stealthy as a cat, you jolt once you realize that he is standing next to you, he finds you crying and immediately becomes defensive, looking furiously for who knows what. You try to hide your face, you wipe your eyes with the collar of your shirt, not caring if it gets smeared with your eyeliner.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he’s visibly upset by your grimace.

“No... it's not… My roommate…” you fail to explain, sighing and swallowing hard trying to undo the knot in your throat.

“Did they do something to you?”

“No…” as soon as you respond his body relaxes, he sits next to you rubbing his hands together not knowing what to say, he attempts to put a hand on your shoulder but pulls back from doing so, your muffled sobs made him feel anxious, it was the sudden need to ease your pain.

With a broken voice you told him roughly what had happened, Mary wasn't the first person you would have thought of telling, but he was already there. What had happened was that Jenn was doing pull-ups on a pipe of the apartment where you live, or the two of you lived, it turned out that this pipe was a water pipe and thanks to their weight it ended up breaking, causing the entire apartment to flood and consequently you can't live there anymore, the landlord knows you weren't even there when that happened so you're off the hook regarding paying for damages. Still, it meant you had nowhere to live at the moment, you were terrified that it would happen again and you didn't know what to do.

Except for a few random comments, Mary listened to you attentively, it even seemed that for once he was taking your situation seriously, but that thought escaped you when he told you that he had to do something and he just left the piano room, leaving you alone, you sigh feeling horrible for a while, taking more time than planned, before going out to face the rest of what is left of the exhibition.

Leaving the piano room Frank approaches looking for you, the news did not take long to travel, he was already aware of what happened, he wastes no time in consoling you and making you an offer that would not have occurred to you even at your worst moment, your thoughts were still slipping in his words, you couldn't find an immediate answer.

“We have a spare room, why don’t you come live with us?”