#frieswrites

[fries-pls]

Run and hide...or don't.

1.7k words

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Hybrids were something that were going extinct, and only a rare few remain due to how many humans want to capture them for their animal features. To sell their fur, their ears. Because of this, hybrids are rarely seen in the wild. Usually they are seen being sold, abused, or killed. It was a rare occasion if you saw one not in captivity.

Most hybrids, the ones that are free, that is, stay close together, warning their children that it was better to die than be captured by humans. And yet here you are, running out of your safe haven that is protected by forest to visit a field of flowers.

Meanwhile, the 141 is trekking through the forest, sent to investigate potential hybrid activity. They are on the edge of the treeline, when they see movement across the field. They spot a small fox hybrid basking in the sun, completely relaxed.

"that's a hybrid, no?" Gaz asks, tilting his head in the direction of you.

"Aye, it is. Reckon we take 'em in." Soap muses, keeping his voice low.

Ghost's eyes narrow with hesitation, but he nods anyway. "Let's get a hybrid then."

You lift your head suddenly, ears twitching around. What was that? Then you smell it. Gunpowder, Cigarettes... humans. Humans. Shit. You start to move slowly, but before you can gain any ground, you hear a voice close by. Too close.

"Target acquired." Ghost's voice cuts through your thoughts like a blade. To both sides of you and in front of you, shadows emerge. Tactical gear, silenced weapons, cold eyes behind rifle scopes.

Soap steps forward slowly, hands raised in mock surrender - but that smirk? It's dangerous. "Now now... no need tae bolt. We just wanna talk."

And Gaz? He's already circling behind you.

Your ears flicker to Gaz, the closest one to you, but aslo the one blocking your path to the forest. You move before you can think, instincts taking over. You lunge at Gaz, using hybrid strength to wrench the gun from his hand and knock him over. "Ah, hell-" Gaz hits the ground hard. Price is the one to block your path next. Soap is closing in behind you, helping Gaz to his feet.

It's a standoff.

"Now, hold on a minute-" Price steps forward, hands raised, but the motion just sets you off again.

You charge at him, just like you did with Gaz. You try to dash past him, but then he points a tranquilizing gun at you. You grab the gun with your teeth and crush the barrel, rendering it useless. Price jumps away in surprise, watching his tranq shatter to the ground like it was nothing.

You hold the gun in your jaw, backing up into the forest slowly, making sure you can see them. Price's jaw drops in disbelief. "Blimey...they're vicious too." Gaz stands next to Soap, eyes wide. "Damnit Soap, I thought you could handle one bloody hybrid!" They start to bicker, and you're about to take that as your chance to escape when you feel it.

Eyes on you. Weren't there four of them..?

Ghost appears just a couple meters away from you, and you can tell he's been watching. Studying. You growl at them, ears folding back as if to say "Stay away from me."

Ghost takes a step forward - boots crunching on Price's broken gun. His voice is low, rough, and far too calm for the situation.

"Cute." He hums.

Price exhales deeply, with begrudging respect. "They've got fangs. I like it." Gaz rubs his bruised shoulder, grinning despite himself. "Aye. Fiesty little thing."

But you don't move, almost paralyzed in your indecisiveness on how to get out of here. You hiss, tail lashing high and puffed up - a red warning flag. And then-

CRACK!

A shot rings out, but it's not at you.

Ghost fired into the air. "Next one goes into your leg," He says flatly. "Stand down...or we take you down." His words are firm, but theres no heat behind them. Like he doesn't want to fight you.

Price shifts to flank. Gaz moves as well, hands open - but ready.

You're fully ready to tackle Ghost until you realize that you're slowly being surrounded. In the blink of an eye, you've turned around and darted into the forest, not wasting a second more on entertaining them.

Gaz and Soap start running after you, but Price raises his arm, signalling them to stop. They regroup, and Ghost speaks.

"Let ‘em go." He says with certainty. Soap practically breaks his neck twisting to look at Ghost. "What? You letting prey walk now?" Ghost's eyes narrow. "No. I'm letting them run..." His eyes shift back to the forest. "They will be back."

Somewhere, deep in the forest, you skid to a stop, heart pounding in your ears. Alone. Free. But your ears still twitch, listening to any sign of them following you. And against your better judgement? You glance back one last time, waiting to see their shadows appear.

You don't go back right away, no, no. You're not that crazy. You give it a week. Each day you creep closer and closer to the flower field, just waiting to see them appear.

But you do just as Ghost said you would. You go back. Out of morbid curiousity, or stupidity...you don't know. But you at least try to be smart about it. you take a different route, just in case. You follow the river that cuts through the forest, and that the flower field runs along. You wash your fur further downstream, before heading upstream to the field.

You approach slowly - watching, listening for any sign of them. Considering that you're in full fox form, you cant see high up. So, you balance precariously on your hind legs, head on a swivel. You stay at the rivers edge, making sure they're gone.

You breathe in the smell of the river, dirt, and flowers. No gunpowder, no cigarettes. Just an empty field, rustling in the summer wind with the soft sounds of nature.

You drop four paws on the ground, relaxing a bit. But then, a voice calls out.

"you came back."

You spin around to where the voice is coming from, and you see a figure emerge from beneath a willow tree. Ghost steps forward, his movements measured and calm.

He holds his hands up, showing that he's unarmed. "Easy. S'just me."

Shifting into a more humanoid form, you stay in the river. "You say that like you aren't a threat."

He lets out a low, rough chuckle. "Oh, I'm a threat." He takes a slow step forward, boots quiet on the damp earth. "But not to you. Not right now."

He tilts his head slightly. "you came back. That means somethin'."

A beat of silence. Then- "Means you're curious."

The wind shifts, and you catch his scent. Gun powder, leather...and something close to rain underneath. He crosses his arms.

"You could've run far away by now...changed shape, vanished into the wilds...but here you are." His eyes lock onto yours through the mask.'

"Why?"

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Why come back, even after you so narrowly escaped. Is it naivety? Curiousity?

You stare at him from across the river. "I'm just...making sure you aren't here." is all you can come up with. You cross your arms over your chest, mirroring his stance even as the water flows around your legs.

He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look away. His eyes drag from your bare feet in the water up to your narrowed eyes, and for a second... soemthing unreadable flickers beneath the skull mask.

"And now I am." He takes a step closer to the river bank. Th water ripples between you, clear and cold in the morning light.

"Gonna scream? Run? Or finally ask what we want with hybrids like you?" A beat of silence passes. Then he adds quieter - almost curious - "...Or did you come back just to figure me out?"

Upstream, a bird calls. The wind teases your wet hair across your shoulders. And Ghost? He's watching. Waiting.

You take a few moments to answer, and he can see the gears turning in your head. "What do you want? A regular poacher would have shot me as soon as they saw me. But you're clearly not a poacher. Judging by the amount of gear you have on, you look like military. and if you are military...what are you doing out here in the sticks?"

He lets out a rough sound when you mention poachers, somewhere between a scoff and a snort.

"Poachers are trash. They just want money, and don't care who or what they harm to do it." The disgust is clear in his voice.

Then, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you can tell he's smiling beneath the mask. "But yeah. We're military. Kind of." He takes another step forward, letting the water lick at his boots.

You watch him carefully, ears flattening to your head as he steps forward more, into the river.

He doesn't stop, wading until the water is rising up mid- thigh. He's calm, deliberate, like he knows fear when he sees it...and you can barely hold yours back.

"Probably haven't heard of us." His voice drops lower. "We don't exist anymore. Not officially."

The current swirls around him as he stops halfway between the banks - close enough to see the faded scars on his hands, the skull tattoo peeking from under his sleeve. Looks like he has a theme.

"We protect what's left of the wild. What's sacred." His gaze locks onto your ears - the way they twitch at every sound around the two of you - and something unreadable flashes in his eyes.

Not pity.

Respect?

Maybe worse - Interest.

And then softly:

"And right now...I'm lookin at one of the last wild things on this earth."

A moment of silence passes between you two.

"You came back. That means you're not just prey." He looks you up and down. "...means I see you, pup. Not the ears. Not the fangs. I see the one who broke Price's gun with their teeth, the one who outsmarted Gaz...and now stands here, half-naked in a river askin' questions like they ain't afraid of ghosts."

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Can y'all tell this is my first actual fic 🙈

I really hope this makes sense is actually coherent bc it came to me in a dream and I couldn't stop thinking about it until I got it out <3

anwayyyy thanks for reading if you got all the way down here and pls pls tell me if I made any spelling errors🙈

Edit: I tried to make this GN so anyone can read it so pls pls pls lmk if I used the wrong pronouns anywhere

[fries-pls]

Illegal Bars

1.6k words

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Your bar is the perfect place. Underground, secret, and loved by all the black market scum of the world. It’s the ideal location for fun, drinks and business all at once. The walls are thick layers of concrete, layered internally with foam to block the noise from getting out, meaning anybody who doesn’t know where it is, can’t find it. To top it off, patrons who enter are required to show their faces to a private camera, and be masked from there on out. It protects their identity from others, but more importantly, you can find them if they try to rat you out.

“Of course, I’ll have one of the girls come over right away,” you smile, that customer service smile that has become all too natural. You rifle through the stack of cash that he - your customer -  gave you, and lift your hand to your earpiece. “Cherry, mind coming over to table 306 please?” The dancer promptly leaves her pole and comes over to the table. You move on to the next table, continuing your charm. It makes you money, builds trust, and brings in more customers. A smile from under your half face mask, your gloved hand brushing a shoulder. It goes a long way.

Ghost watches you from a table. He has a bourbon in his hand, but of course he hasn’t drank any yet. He’s undercover, hunting you. Local police have tried and failed to get in, so special ops was sent in. Price, albeit forcefully, has him wearing a golden skull mask that shines off the lights of the bar. It has horns along the top, and Ghost grumbled that it makes him look like The Grabber from The Black Phone. Of course, he’s the only one who would think of that. 

Like all the others here, the lower half of his face is showing, which isn’t ideal, but he will have to make do. His brown eyes track you as you approach his table. You rest a hand on his shoulder, and he resists the urge to take you into custody there and then. He knows your customers are fiercely loyal - he would be dead before he hit the floor. He needs to get you somewhere private.

“Mr. Riley, is there something wrong with your drink? I can get you something else if you’d like.” You smile, tilting your head in that way that gets your male clientele feeling… lustful, shall we say.

“I want a private room. Just you and me.” 

You pause. That isn’t part of the script.

“A little eager, aren’t you?” You reply, flashing him a smile from underneath your red mask.

The only dress code is that customers are not allowed to wear red masks, while the employees wear the red mask as part of their uniform. To differentiate everyone if shit goes down.

He narrows his eyes slightly, impatience growing.

You frown in a sympathetic way. “Unfortunately, I don’t do private sessions. However, I have several very lovely dancers who would love to go with you.” You say, deflecting his request. Before you can raise your hand to your ear to call over a dancer, he grabs your wrist.

Immediately, a security guard starts slowly making his way to the both of you, watching closely. A couple of the men at the table over stop mid conversation, paying attention to him.

“I want you.” He insists.

Narrowing your eyes, you reply quietly and curtly. “I recommend you rethink your next move, Mr. Riley.” That makes him pause. He glances around, and notices the people watching him. The security guard who is now lingering a few metres away. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he evaluates the situation.

He lets go. “My apologies. I assumed you were a dancer…” He says cooly, playing it off. You hum, watching him closely.

“Now, about that drink…” You gesture to it, while waving off security. “You not a bourbon man? I could get you a rum and coke, or a Bellini if you are a light weight.” You smile despite the sarcasm in your voice.

He narrows his eyes, now just mildly insulted. “I am not a light weight, thank you. I’ll do just fine with my bourbon.” He grumbles. You pat him once on the shoulder before walking off, letting your fingers drag on his shirt before going out of reach. He feels a shiver go up his spine at the feeling, and has to shake his head a bit.

He can feel eyes on him the rest of the night. You pointedly skip over his table when making your rounds again, instead choosing to send a dancer to try and persuade him into buying something - a drink, a dance, hell, you’d be happy with anything at this point - especially considering he’s been there for four hours, has only bought one drink, and hasn’t taken a sip of it.

“This is gonna be a long night.” You mutter to Cran, your bartender from behind the bar. He hums, rinsing out a glass before drying it.

“He’s still there?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s only bought that Bourbon?”

“Yup. Didn’t open a tab either, paid cash. Don’t think he’s gonna buy anything tonight.”

Cran sighs, setting the glass down. “What if he’s feds?” He says in a hushed tone. Just the mention of someone being a potential informant could start a riot. You groan, persona slipping. 

“Well. If he is, we know where to put him.” Cran chuckles at that. “Always were pretty unsympathetic, eh?” You elbow him. “Yeah, that’s the only reason this crime scene is still running.”

He rolls his eyes at you, laughing quietly while he walks away. You sigh, turning back to look at the bar room. Ghost is looking at you. Watching. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. 

Heading into the back room, you take your mask off with a huff, pulling off your jewelry and accessories. 

-

When you got into the industry, you knew it was dangerous. You knew that it would kill you one day. But until then, you’d live like a monarch. Knowing how dangerous it was, you made some security upgrades. 

-

You put three fingers against the wall, and a retina scanner pops out. It scans your eye, then flashes a bright light quickly before a hidden door opens from the wall. It slides into the wall and you walk through, hitting the archway lightly and the door closes behind you.

Your office is nice, imagine the godfather's office, and you’re there. A small safe sits in the wall, where you keep the day's cash from before it’s moved to a second location. You enter the safe code, spinning it open and sticking a wad of cash in there. 

Ghost watched as you disappeared into the back room, eyes narrowing in frustration.

They won't let me get close, he thinks to himself. Looking around the room, everyone is either black-out drunk or dancing. He stands up, taking his drink with him casually. Cran is nowhere to be seen at the bar. He walks around the bar, dropping his drink off calmly and walking through the curtain to the back.

The so-called ‘backroom’ is basically empty save for drink supplies, sugar and all the fancy shit people put in drinks these days. The walls are grey cement, with one of the walls holding shelves of fancy glasses of all shapes and sizes.

He tries the heavy door at the back of the room, and when it doesn’t budge, he picks the lock. The door just leads to the damp alley, and he groans in frustration. “Waste of…time.” He growls. He’s half-tempted to kick something, but that won’t solve anything.

He hears a faint thump from somewhere in the room, and whips around to look, but no one is there. Then, the wall slides into itself and a doorway opens. He hides behind your several boxes of supplies, and watches as you walk out. You thump the wall lightly outside of the door and it slides back into place, seamlessly blending in.

You run a hand through your hair before putting the red mask back on and walking back through the curtain to the bar. He waits a few minutes, memorizing what your face looked like before going over to where you came from.

He tries thumping his hand along the wall like you did but nothing happens. He tries everything to try to move the wall, tries to even find the seam of the door but he can’t find anything. He narrows his eyes, before tapping into his earpiece. 

“Ghost to Actual.” A few seconds pass, and he can feel his time running out before someone comes back into the room. Crackle - “Go for six.” 

“I got a hidden door here. Target came out of it before it slid back into place without a trace.”

“Any keypad or something you can hack?” Price asks.

“Nothing is here. They made it slide into place by hitting the wall.”

A few seconds. An audible sigh…

“Exfil now.”

Ghost doesn’t wait, leaving out the alley door.

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The 141 is sitting in the briefing room, with different rough sketches of the bar layout that Ghost made, along with a detailed drawing of your face that Soap drew from Ghost’s description. We all know Soap is the artist of the group. 

“This time, we’re all going in. Ghost, you’ll introduce us to the target. They know you, so we won’t draw suspicion if we go in with you. Soap will get into the hidden room. Gaz and I will blend into the crowd.”

Price picks up a box from the ground, and dumps it on the table. Three gold masks spill out, and Ghost puts his gold one on the table. “Take your pick, boys.”

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Another one before I lock in for my classes 😩

Can you tell I have no knowledge of how technology works... don't ask me how he did it he just did it, it was hard

I already have a part 2 written so I might post that at some point this coming week

@taylorrosexx

[fries-pls]

Illegal Bars - Pt. 2

1.7k words

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Cran catches your eye from across the room, and jerks his head to motion you to come over.

“Look at the scanner.” He mutters. You flip up the ipad, and watch as four men in gold masks come through the face scanner. They all flip their masks up to show the camera, then pass through when the light blinks green. “It’s Mr. Riley. Who’s he bringing through though..?” You murmur, eyes flicking up to the door as they walk in. 

Immediately Ghost’s eyes are on you behind the bar, but you smile at him and pretend to be busy. They take a booth close to the bar, in sight line of the entrance. 

You make your way over to the table, customer service smile already gracing your lips. 

“Welcome back Mr. Riley… and who is joining us tonight?” You ask, voice sickly sweet.

“McTavish, Garrick, and Price.” He mutters gruffly, motioning to them when he says their name. They each nod in acknowledgement, Gaz smiling that pretty boy smile that makes most people melt.

Not you, though. “Welcome everyone… What will we be having tonight? Mr. Riley, I assume you want the usual?” He’s surprised that you remember what he got last time, but doesn’t let his face slip. He nods, and Soap grins. “I’ll ‘ave a whiskey, lass.” You smile. “On the rocks, Mr. McTavish?” Soap nods. Gaz orders a Manhattan, and Price orders an Old-Fashioned.

“I’ll be right back with those… are you wanting any dancers tonight, Mr. Riley?” You say, putting your hand on his shoulder. He tenses slightly, not expecting it. “No.” You smile and walk away, letting your hand drag on his shoulder in that way that makes him shiver.

Ghost watches you talk to Cran at the bar, smiling in a soft way that you don’t give to clients. Cran passes the drinks over to you, and you garnish Gaz’s drink with a cherry before balancing them on a reflective red tray and carrying them over.

“For you, Mr. Garrick…” You say with a smile, placing Gaz’s drink down in front of him in one of those fancy glasses that Ghost saw in the back room. You place the rest of the glasses down, making sure to brush hands with Price.

“I’ll leave you four alone… make sure to pay attention to my dancers. They were offended after your last visit, Mr. Riley…” You say, giving him a knowing look before making your rounds to the tables. They watch you closely, and Soap practically kicks Gaz in the leg and gestures to you just in time to see a handoff occur. You pass the man a small box that’s taped shut, and he passes you a thick envelope; practically bursting at the seams.

“What was that?” 

“Dunno. But we will find out.” 

They watch you for an hour or so more, before Soap makes his move. It’s the peak of the night, with dancers on and off the stage, mingling with customers. It’s packed. He weaves through the crowd, walking right past Cran into the back room. He walks right over to the wall that Ghost talked about, putting on high-tech glasses. They light up the door, retina scanner and finger-detector. He ignores the scanner and detector, sticking a small flat device against the door. It makes a few sounds, before the door slides into the wall.

-

Back in the bar room, Gaz is mingling with the dancers, keeping them pre-occupied, while Price talks to Cran. 

Meanwhile… Ghost is trying to catch your eye. You’re practically running around, but in that casual way that makes it seem effortless. When you finally make your way back to his table, he’s waiting.

“Ah, Mr. Riley. Did the rest of your group leave?”

“Nah, they’re around.” He hums. “Sit.” He gestures to the seat across from him.

You contemplate for a moment, glancing around the room. You’ve spoken to all the customers, all the dancers are where they should be… and Ghost has been nagging at your mind since the first time you saw him two days ago.

You sit down across from him with an easy smile. “Enjoying your night, Mr. Riley?” 

“Well enough.” He grunts. “Maybe you would enjoy yourself more if you entertained my dancers like Mr. Garrick over there.” You chide him lightly. 

His lip twitches under the mask, laughing faintly. “Never gonna let that go are you?”

“Not a chance.” Making a small motion with your hand, Cran catches it and abandons his conversation with Price, bringing over a Roy Rogers for you. “Thanks, Cran.” He nods, giving Ghost a once-over before smiling at you and walking back to Price.

“How do you do that?” Ghost asks, putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. You hum, thinking for a second. “I’ve been running this place for a very long time. Cran knows what I like.”

He contemplates that for a second. “And what do you like? I can’t imagine you’re drinking alcohol while working. Especially not in a place like this…” He grins. You match his expression, laughing quietly. “No, no, definitely not. Non-alcoholic only. Never was a fan of alcohol to begin with honestly.”

His eyebrows rise. “You don’t drink, yet you run a bar. Ironic, ‘innit?” 

“Quite. But I know what other people like”

-

He walks through the archway, thumping his hand on the wall twice, just like you did. It slides into place behind him.. Walking through the archway, he enters your office, and doesn’t waste time to start looking around. Bookshelves, chairs, lamps, safe, desk…Safe.

He immediately starts fiddling with it, trying different codes. He assumes that you wouldn’t have any repeating numbers, so there are 5040 possible combinations that he can try. After the first five or so combinations, He decides to say fuck it. He pries the face of the keypad off, playing with the wires until it beeps. 

Opening it, he pulls out the cash and pulls out several small cardboard boxes. Just like the ones you handed off to a client. He grabs one of them and sticks it in his jacket, before closing the safe and putting the face plate of the key pad back on. He searches around more, rifling through the desk and a few of the books on your shelf before putting everything back.

He walks through the door before hitting the wall again, and it closes. He walks past the curtain that goes into the bar room, and opens the staff only door that’s down the hallway. It leads to the bathroom, and he exits into the bar, pretending that’s where he was.

-

Resting your head on your hands, you tilt to look at him. “Who told you about this place, Mr. Riley?” You ask, curious.

“Mr. Sanchez is an old friend. He told me about this place a while ago…just haven’t made the time to show up until now.” He rumbles.

“Mmm, Mr. Sanchez. And how do you know him?”

“We’ve worked together before.”

“And what do you do for work?”

“You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

You smile at him, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I like to know my clients.”

Before you can continue prodding at him, Soap arrives, smiling widely at you both.

“Aey, what ‘ave we got goin’ on o’er here?” He wiggles his eyebrows. You smile lightly, sliding out of the booth. 

“Just sharing a drink with Mr. Riley.” You hum, grabbing your drink and gesturing for Soap to sit. Gaz arrives with Price a couple seconds later, and before they can surround you, you move to the side of the booth to let them in. 

“I’ll let you four enjoy your night, I hope you enjoyed the dancers Mr. Garrick.” You grin at Gaz before walking off.

You walk back to the bar, to where Cran is waiting with a grin. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.” He laughs, before stifling it by putting his hand over his mouth, shoulders still shaking.

“I only had a drink with him because I was skeptical. Still am. He won’t tell me about what he does, which is pretty normal, but he mentioned Mr. Sanchez.”

Cran pauses. “Mr. Sanchez. The Mr. Sanchez you went missing… about a month ago?”

“The very same.” You hum, looking over at the 141’s booth. Price is already watching, and you hold eye contact with him, not hiding the skepticism or glare behind your eyes. He looks away first, and you keep looking for a moment longer before slowly turning away.

A loud shout from across the room grabs your attention, with two clients getting into a scrap. Over what, you don’t know. Security runs over, and a couple of the dancers run away from the fray. 

You head over, taking your attention off the 141.

-

“Yeah, yeah, time to go, sir.” You say, waving at one of the quarrelers as he’s basically shoved into his vehicle by security. Mostly everyone who comes to your bar is rich enough to have a personal driver, so you called each of the two men’s drivers to pick them up. Of course, you made them pay a little extra on top of their tab for incidentals.

Afterward you spent a lot of time getting the rest of your clients settled back down, making your rounds once more and making sure everyone has a full drink. It’s then that you notice the 141 is gone.

“Mr. Riley is gone. When did they leave?” You ask Cran.

“As soon as you went to deal with the brawl, they slipped out. Paid in cash.”

You frown.

Something is nagging at the back of your mind.

Going into the back room, you pass through your security and enter the office. Everything looks normal.

Until.

Your books aren’t in order. They were specifically put in alphabetical order by author name. Don’t ask why. Your carpet is scuffed up. The dust on top of the guest chairs is disturbed - because who ever sits in those?

Your head snaps toward the safe, and you frantically open it. You count the cash, then count the boxes. 1, 2, 3, 4… where is the fifth box?

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okayyyy illegal bars part 2 is hereee!! I might make this a short series?? as long as I don't get bored before I finish it that is LOL.

also i attempted an accent for soap i know it sucks😩

lmk if y'all want a part three! Also again I tried to make this gender neutral so let me know if I used the wrong pronouns anywhere!

[fries-pls]

do you plan to make a pt 2 to illegal bars? i really loved it!!

Omggg

Yes I actually already have part of it written!!!

I’m glad you liked it🥹