#just a friendly little shootout

[southern-stark]

Aggressive Negotiations

My Mando OC, Elayne, having a “civil” conversation with some rather friendly pirates.

[Artwork done by Rowan on Instagram]

[solannn]

Hi!! Can I request a male! reader x boten Where the reader is a waiter at their favorite restraint for gangs/mafia whatever and Mikey takes a liking to him but they find out he’s only doing the job because he’s a single father, and they want to keep him (not super good with translating my ideas sorry)- 🦇 anon

ᥫ᭡ ��𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⤷ male reader and single father of a child named “Myrei”, she is kind, and love her father.

[Name] saw a potentially dangerous man enter the bar, with his gang members, he assumed. It was the first time they had visited the large and incredibly beautiful bar where he had worked here for several years. The boy's men probably hide a weapon in their pockets if there's a problem, most of the gangs do this, and sometimes it's just that he has a shootout because of a quarrel started by a drunk man who ends up dead. the end. [Name] thought their boss was the man with short white hair, he was short but his appearance could be deceiving, but they could also be wrong about him being a boss.

The waiter tried to concentrate on his customers, but the imposing aura of the armed men scared him. He was used to this kind of situation, but he felt like he'd seen it somewhere on his television late at night. After wondering their name its suddenly came to mind, Bonten, something like that. They were one of the most dangerous organizations in Japan, inviting prostitutes and killing them after having pleasuring time them, cruelty towards others human being, and much more. For them it was like a hobby that entertained them, but [Name] hated that kind of person. So, to protect his life he decided not to say too much that could cause a general fight.

He wanted to avoid them at all costs before his manager told him that these men were men who deserved lust and merit to flatter their immense egos, so he asked him to serve them drinks, food, and everything what they wished they had. [Name] was flattered that his presence was lustful, but he was also uncomfortable talking to them but his manager comforted him by putting his hand on his shoulder telling him. "I know how you feel, but unfortunately you are the only one qualified to talk to people at such levels." [Name] sighed, he puffed out his chest a little and thanked his comrade who had just comforted him. He walked towards the table of men, they were all different from each other, one seemed drugged to the point of stupidity, one depressed, one who was probably arrogant, one with a neutral expression and others.

“Hello gentlemen, what can we offer you today.” He asked them and made his famous smile known by his comrades or the customers who came each time. He tried to appear friendly, and pretended to be pure and innocent, he wanted them to have pity for him but they probably didn't have any, but he still tried to seduce them. He waited for their answers for a few seconds before a man with long, white hair asked him. “what is boeuf bourgignon?” he pronounced the word wrong, but with a smile [Name] answered him. "boeuf bourguignon is a dish of beef braised in red wine, and served with a garnish of pearl onions, mushrooms and bacon. It is one of the most popular dishes in France made by a French-Japanese chef." he replied, detailing the appearance of the meat and its garnish. the man nodded and said "I'll take that then." he grinned back, [Name] noted as he took out a paper and a style from his pocket to wrote it.

“I would like a dorayaki.” No, it wasn't a request but an order, he could tell the difference between that. It was simple to distinguish, he kept a smile and wrote his order. After taking their orders one added. “Get me some wine, one of the best from here.” [Name] scratched his neck, and nodded. “of course sir, everything will be in order.” he addressed them before leaving towards the restaurant counter. "Hey Boss, I'm not feeling this place. I'm not having fun." He stretched while taking another drug, to relax. "Their boss didn't say anything, he was just hungry. He glanced to his left, and saw the waiter talking on the phone with someone. He had a smile soft, and not forced when in front of him.

“Kokonoi.” He called one of his members coldly. The boy became tense, he looked at his boss and said. “Yes, sir?” Who is this waiter we saw a few minutes ago? "mhm, I think his name is [Name] Bonavich, he is 27 years old, he has been working in a bar, restaurant for a few years so that his daughter has a good education and other things. He is a single father we will say." he tells Mikey, his boss, the boy's information. Before coming here, he looked for data on the people working in this popular place.

the waiter came towards them again after about thirty minutes of discussion with their meal in hand. Their dish was quite heavy to bear but he pretended it wasn't and placed their meal on the table. “Enjoy your appetite, sir.” He smiled but before leaving, the person who wanted to avoid everything grabbed his arm to say something to him. Their members were surprised by Mikey's sudden gesture, maybe he had a deal with him and was going to kill him. [Name] stressed a little, praying that he wouldn't ask anything strange like being his prostitute or something. “Yes?” he cleared his throat at the same time.

“after i eat you will come in my car, you will be my own waiter for bonten only.” The boy with dark circles under his eyes ordered him shut, without any expression on his face. "oh! ohm..of course." His day was ruined, his daughter was probably waiting for him at home and maybe she wanted to play before going to sleep. He walked towards the bar counter and went into the break room where his friends and his manager were. "people! I'm a dead man!" He whispered, carrying his voice a little so he could hear it. “ehh why.” a girl with extravagant makeup that stood out from the criteria of the Japanese beauty standard stated it was gyaru makeup. She dyed her hair red, to stand out even more. "what are you doing darling? probably isn’t someone as coolish as me ihh" she spoke mockingly not taking the situation to heart. “Shut up Ameyru! Let him talk.” An androgynous boy told her to shut up, she did but she rolled her eyes. "you see the Bonten, they are here and their boss asked me to become their personal waiter--" Ameyru laughed.

"lol! wait what! kyaaaa... these guys are creepy if you don't do your right job you're ekkkkk" at the end of her sentence she made the zombie noise, and with her thumb she pretended to slit her throat. The manager was shocked at the revelation and didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about it," he felt unable to say another word. The androgynous boy next to him put his hand on his shoulder. "Kyoru.." he whispered, making him smile a little. Ameryu stopped laughing and took it seriously. "I'm sorry too, yikes! they are the most horrendous human ya know.." she said, knowing that if he left, she would miss him immensely. "wahhh!!! it's horrible.!" she said running towards her friend and grabbed him with a hug

"I'm sad, super. Hey Ryuba you will console me right." the haired boy nodded. "I'll try if you don't break my mind," he sighed and rushed to hug his friend, Kyoru joined them too. "mhh, and to think that you've been here for 9 years, we could have reached 10 years of anniversary of you working here.. “awhh guys." [Name] was touched by their words almost having tears in his eyes. when he was released from the hug, he greeted them, perhaps for the last time and left. "Ameyru is depressed.." tears ran down her puffy cheek "ugh.."

When he returned to the room where the gang was he saw blood on the floor. Someone was eliminated, but he had not heard the sound of a gun, perhaps a knife murder. The man was a customer who was probably drunk, he walked over and noticed that Bonten had finished eating. Mikey waited patiently for the boy, he walked towards the leader without saying a word.

He left the restaurant, letting himself go for fear of dying. One of the members opened the door for him, and he stepped inside and sighed. He moved to the back of the car, and the others got in. They were almost all crammed in, but the car was wide enough to fit a little. Stressed out by this long, boring moment while the driver drove the car, he needed something to sink his teeth into. He wanted to take his cigarette but unfortunately he'd left it on the counter.

He left the restaurant, letting himself go for fear of dying. One of the members opened the door for him, and he stepped inside and sighed. He moved to the back of the car, and the others got in. They were almost all crammed in, but the car was wide enough to fit a little. Stressed out by this long, boring moment while the driver drove the car, he needed something to sink his teeth into. He wanted to take his cigarette but unfortunately he'd left it on the counter.

It was a long trip, and [name] was worried because he recognized the road he was driving on his way home. The driver stopped in front of his destination, his apartment building. His heart stopped and his eyes widened as he wondered what would happen to his child. One of the members got out of the car and went to the apartment. [Name] started to speak, but a man put a gun to his head. "He said, "If you dare say anything, I'll shoot you in the face.”He threatened to shoot him, but he quickly shut up. In the back of his mind, he sighed so as not to draw attention to himself. The minutes were long, very long, he felt as if they had stopped an hour ago. He looked out the window to his left, watching the people passing by, afraid of the car. Probably wondering if they were going to die too.

A few minutes passed and the tension grew. When one of the members returned, he had a sleeping child in his arms. He walked around the car to the left door, opened it, and handed [name] his child. He took her under his shoulders and put her on his lap. He rested his head on her chest, but a question lingered in the back of his mind: did he kill the babysitter he'd hired years ago, or was he showing compassion? Preferring not to answer, he stroked his child's head with a faint smile.

His child was sleeping peacefully, as if someone had rocked him to sleep. This made [Name] happy, but he didn't want to show it to a gang, so he decided to save his smile for his daughter. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the dejected look on the boss's face, so he quickly looked away, not wanting to see his expression. The gang began to talk among themselves, fed up with the tension caused by Mikey's pressure. The little man said nothing, remaining completely silent.

He felt a sudden urge to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy with each blink, and he put his hand over his mouth and yawned. He told himself it was late, 23 in his opinion. At 11 p.m., the lights went out in the small town and he could see people enjoying themselves with their friends. He sighed one last time, clutched his child, and fell asleep, unable to help himself.

──────

He woke up suddenly, his eyes wide open. "Is this a nightmare?" he asked himself, but no. The place he was in wasn't his home; it was too big for a one-person room. The room was almost as big as his apartment. "They're filthy rich...after all, they're a mafia..." he muttered and looked around, not seeing his child. He stood up and rushed to the door. He opened it abruptly and left the room, nothing as he stepped out onto a wide red carpeted staircase. He also had a view of the living room. "..." he didn't know what to say, amazed at the size of this mansion. He heard a child's playful cry at the bottom of the stairs. Running up and down the stairs as if his life depended on it, he looked to his left and saw Myrei, her child playing with one of the members? He wasn't sure if it was a babysitter, but it had a remarkable tattoo. He walked towards them, his daughter smiling as she saw him approach. "Daddy!!!" She couldn't help but scream.

She was so overly excited that she gave her trust to the person in front of him. A man with black hair and a huge scar on his face, [Name], glared at him while carrying his child. "I assure you, I'm not here to hurt anyone on behalf of the boss." He was admitting the truth, their boss? No, he wasn't dreaming, and he didn't seem to be lying. [Name] sighed and let go of Myrei. "Oh dad, no need to worry, he's super super nice the Mr.!!! The others were cool with their shots too!!!" Myrei was only 6 years old, she didn't know what she was saying, she was just a child and she was being manipulated. Negative thoughts invaded his mind and lowered his impressions of the Mafia, even if they were already low enough.

After a brief discussion between the two adults, [Name] felt an icy hand on his shoulder and arched his back at the sensation. He was about to say something insulting, but he stopped himself and turned his head to see Mikey, the boy with short white hair. "I put your clothes that were at home in the closet and the uniform is on your bed, if you've seen it." He said his coldly, showing no mercy, but deep inside he was interested in him without realizing it. “Oh okay.. I’ll prepare myself than.”

──────

After getting ready in the bedroom, the boss waited patiently outside his door. He gasped slightly and bowed in respect. Mikey told him there was no point in bowing and asked him to follow him to his office. He followed with a fake smile on his lips. When they entered the room, Mikey sat down on a rather large and comfortable chair. While [Name] sat on a chair probably made of rusty metal because it creaked. Mikey handed him a piece of paper that showed how much he would be charged. [Name] looked at it for a moment before taking it and reading it. He was shocked, the amount was huge, he could live luxuriously on it every month. The man in the black t-shirt and pants didn't know what to say, but he appreciated [Name]'s smile, it reminded him of someone so close to him. He pushed his memories away, trying not to connect the past with the present.

"I like your genuine smile." Mikey stated it bluntly. [Name] stopped celebrating the money in his head and tilted his head, surprised by the remark. Had he been smiling? He hadn't even noticed. "Oh, thank you!" He smiled even more, a pink blush appearing on his cheek, he didn't know why he was blushing because he should be used to this kind of compliment, but coming from him, it felt strange.

[seongwars]

Sports Day!

wc: 1500 warnings: none, just fluff and some humor part of the lads!dadverse a/n: pushing the fish man agenda cause he's my pookie

“Daddy and Mommy! Hurry up!” Ariel bounced in place, her violet space buns bobbing as she waved eagerly at you and Rafayel.

The annual sports festival at Linkon Elementary was in full swing. Parents milled about—some stretching and hyping themselves up, others indulging in food stalls overflowing with festival treats or joining in on family-friendly activities.

And then there was Xavier—blinking sleepily near the bleachers, looking as if he’d much rather be in bed.

“Honey, are you sure you want to run? We can always do something else,” Xavier’s wife suggested, eyeing him with concern.

“Huh?” Xavier stifled a yawn. “No, it’s fine. I got this. Right, Ori?”

Orion's small hand clutched his dad’s sweatpants and looked up at him with the exact same tired expression. He held up a thumbs up, signaling to his father that he had it in the bag.

Ariel giggled and tugged on Rafayel’s sleeve as they approached the track field. “Ori’s dad and Ori and his baby brother all look the same.”

Rafayel glanced over and had to admit—she wasn’t wrong. Xavier’s wife’s genes had absolutely not put up a fight. Orion was an exact copy of his father, and the six-month-old strapped to Xavier’s wife’s chest, baby Atlas, blinked drowsily in perfect sync with them both.  

“Oh, look! There’s Archer’s daddy!” Ariel chirped, pointing across the field. 

Caleb was near the starting line, jogging in place while Archer chattered beside him. Caleb’s entire brood was clustered nearby—Ciel reminding him not to forget the basketball shootout later, while his wife handed snacks to the twins. Rafayel was fairly certain all of Caleb’s kids were at least in the 99th percentile for growth, built like miniature athletes thanks to their dad’s genetics.

A few feet away, Zayne stood rolling his shoulders, his gaze locked onto Caleb as if he were preparing to charge into battle. A few months ago, Archer had “dumped” Elsa, effectively ending their “marriage.” Since then, Zayne had sworn to avenge his daughter’s honor by obliterating Caleb in the parent dash.

“Hi Elsa!” Ariel waved enthusiastically, breaking Zayne’s intense concentration for a moment. Elsa turned around at the sound of her name, her bright smile lighting up her face as she waved back.

“Hi!"

“Oh! Mommy! Daddy! Did you know that Archer broke up with Elsa?" Ariel lowered he voice as she whipped around to face you and Rafayel.

"He said he likes Cece now. Elsa was really sad."

“What!” you and Rafayel exclaimed in unison, completely scandalized by this preschool drama.

Ariel, completely unaware of the impact of her words, continued on. “Yeah, but that’s okay because Elsa said Archer was the best line leader, and I think he likes her again.”

The atmosphere on the field shifted as a heavy presence entered the vicinity. Parents who had been stretching or casually chatting suddenly found themselves standing a little straighter, instinctively sensing something, or someone, had arrived.

“Well, this seems interesting.”

Sylus stepped onto the field, clad in all black. His sleeves were rolled up exposing his veiny forearms and his red eyes were concealed under black sunglasses, sending a message to the rest of the parents that he was going to win this whole thing. 

A few parents exchanged nervous glances.

A teacher hesitated mid-whistle.

Even Xavier, perpetually teetering on the edge of sleep, cracked one eye open in vague curiosity.

“Daddy! You forgot your tiara!” 

The entire field fell into an eerie silence. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.

Cece, marched up to him, a bright pink, plastic, jewel-encrusted tiara clutched in her tiny hands. Sylus, still looking like he could probably take out a small gang with his bare hands, crouched down, and allowed his daughter to delicately place the plastic crown atop his head. The rhinestones caught the sunlight, glittering obnoxiously against his white hair hair.

“You ready, Daddy?” you teased, slipping your arm around your husband’s waist. Rafayel smirked, leaning in against your ear. 

"Always. I’ve got my lucky charm here, after all."

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek, only to be interrupted by Ariel smacking his arm with all the force her tiny hands could muster.

“Ewww! You’re being so lovey dovey!” She scrunched up her nose, looking personally offended. “You need to get your head in the game, Daddy!”

Rafayel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What do you mean, Glub Glub?”

“This is serious!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re representing our whole family! Lemuria depends on you!” She gestured wildly toward the field, as if this were the Olympics and not an elementary school sports festival.

You bit back a laugh as Rafayel arched a brow, clearly amused. “So what you’re saying is, I need to focus?”

“Yes!” Ariel stomped her foot for emphasis. “You can be mushy later. Right now, you have to win! Look at the other daddies!”

Caleb was focused, looking every bit like a man who did cardio for fun. Zayne, despite his usual stoic demeanor, was practically burning with vengeance. 

Meanwhile, Sylus, now infamously wearing Cece’s pink tiara, cracked his neck, his expression as serious as ever as he waited for the starting signal. Then there was Xavier, mid-yawn but somehow still managing to look deceptively athletic.

“Daddy. You have to crush them.”

You smirked, giving Rafayel’s butt a playful pat. “Well, you heard the boss. Better not disappoint her.”

Rafayel bent down to meet his daughter’s gaze, a serious expression settling over his face. “Alright, Coach. Anything else I should know before I go out there?”

“Yes. Run fast.”

The participants were lined up at the starting line. The crowd was abuzz with anticipation as kids cheered for their respective parent and the announcer’s voice rang out over the speakers.

“On your marks… Get set… Go!”

Zayne took off like a man possessed, laser focused on Caleb, who was a few feet away, blissfully unaware of the grudge match about to unfold. The Colonel, still seemingly unbothered, was just happy to be there, and that only further enraged Zayne. 

Sylus was right beside him, arms pumping, breath steady, somehow managing to keep the tiara balanced on his head as Rafayel took off beside him. Your husband’s strides carried him forward, muscles flexing as he pushed harder spurred on by the cheers of your little girl.

Then there was Xavier.

What no one saw coming, what no one could have possibly predicted, was the moment Xavier, sleepy and seemingly disinterested, exploded forward. It was like something primal took over, his long legs moving with shocking efficiency, his relaxed posture giving way to a sudden burst of unparalleled speed. 

Zayne, mid-sprint, turned his head just enough to see an absolute blur whiz past him. Sylus, who had been so focused on keeping his form tight and his tiara steady, risked a glance and nearly tripped. 

“Oh, wow, dude’s fast—” Caleb chuckled as Xavier effortlessly overtook him in the final stretch.

The crowd roared.

The kids cheered.

Parents gasped. 

And just like that, the race was over.

Xavier skidded to a stop past the finish line. He blinked at the crowd, the stunned competitors, and the announcer who was gaping at him.

“Oh,” Xavier mumbled, rubbing his neck. “Did I win?”

“You won, Dada!” Ori cheered, running toward him with open arms. Xavier scooped up his son and spun him around. Even little Atlas was bouncing excitedly in his carrier, kicking his tiny feet in celebration.

Rafayel was frozen in place, still trying to process what had just happened. His body had reacted, his legs had moved, his arms had pumped with perfect form. And yet, somehow, some way, Xavier had just whipped past him defying the laws of physics. 

And the worst part?

You had caught the exact moment his soul left his body.

“You did great, Daddy!” Ariel chirped, wrapping her arms around Rafayel in a comforting hug as he collapsed against the bleachers.

Rafayel’s eye twitched as he finally snapped out of his daze. He turned to look at his daughter, his pride, his biggest fan, his coach, only to see that she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She was watching the replay on your phone.

Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your stomach, gasping for breath. You had watched the video at least five times now, and each time, it got funnier. Because there, right there, was the exact moment Xavier passed him, and your husband made the ugliest, most tragic face known to mankind.

You wheezed, shoving the phone in his face. “Babe, look at this—”

His brows shot up to his hairline, his eyes bulged so wide they practically swallowed his face, and his mouth floundered open gasping for air.

“I don’t want to,” he pouted, turning away from you. 

“Aww you’re still the best to Ari and me,” you cooed, crouching down to poke your husband’s cheek. 

Rafayel exhaled sharply, his cheeks puffing out like a frustrated fish as he stared into the distance. Then, with fiery determination, he straightened his shoulders. Placing his hands on his hips, he rose to his full height, his posture radiating resolve.

“Next year,” he declared. “Next year will be different.”

“Raf, it’s just a school race—”

“There’s always next year.”

[heretyc]

Cat and Mouse [Franco Barbi x Reader] [SMUT/NSFW] [18+]

Plot: You take far too many antipsychotics and suffer the consequences. Those consequences? Franco Barbi taking you for himself. [Female reader character.] This is porn with plot.

Warnings: 18+ content ahead. Obsessive Barbi. Lactation kink, mommy kink, breastfucking, missionary sex and MC death [you respawn anyway lol]. This shit is so filthy I had to take a shower. [Just kidding I was like a pig in mud lmfao]

TW: Somewhat dubious consent. You don't give verbal consent and you're high. You're...kinda not bothered, if that makes sense? Even through the drugs. You also get shot by Lupara. I kinda based this off of the hatefucking! AU where you were in Havana the day he started the shootout and you basically become enemies to lovers.

Also mentions of non-con birth control usage, as he rawdogs you. He is literally the embodiment of the "raw, next question" meme.

Setting: The docks map. [I can't find a good picture, but inside of the red room on the ship where Barbi shoots the glass and pursues you.]

It's doneeeee! Enjoy. I'm not exactly confident in my smut writing skills so I hope this is still enjoyable. Under the cut due to NSFW content ahead. Why do I always turn my fics poetic?? Ugh. This fic was a ROLLER COASTER.

A hiss, a cry, a grunt and a groan; that was the array of noises that escaped your throat as you tried to roam and plunder the shithole that was the docks, your nipples swollen and making you want to rip them off.

The nurse was nice enough to give you a maternity bra. Truly, she was; coming to her with your little issue, she was more than understanding.

"Oh dear," Barlow had clicked her tongue as a gloved hand squeezed at your breast, her expression showing concern, "I was afraid this would happen." She was gentle as she swabbed some milk from your nipple, shoving the soaked swab into a test tube.

Her smile was friendly yet forced, full of pity in typical Barlow, "I'll get you some maternity wear for the time being...for now. Refrain from taking those antipsychosis medications for a while, okay?"

As if that was easy; she was bullshitting you, this you knew. It wasn't like you could stop taking them, and therefore, you had to suffer the consequences.

"I'll make sure it isn't pus," she dawdled, getting up from her seat and gently taking your hand, her free one holding the tube. "From now on, please rest in the sleep room." She looked...mortified for you. "Just...rest for today. Easterman's a wonderful man, dear...I'm sure he'll let you."

Trials were hard enough as it was. Constant fear. Your brain was fried, no doubt. But now you had to worry about breast pain, of all things.

She then cursed under her breath, "You have that...Franco Barbi trial tomorrow, don't you?"

Oh.

Fuck.

She was hesitant to send you away, but off you went back into the room that was assigned to you.

And now you were here, after spending all day yesterday moping and dreading the day, and the maternity bra you were given had been ripped off, because the material was too. fucking. rough.

Why was that, you wondered as you roamed the docks, shoving the bags of poisoned medicine into your pockets. Why was the material so shit?

But then again, why did they have maternity bras.

You silenced your train of thought after that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ ───

Fucking Franco Barbi. That was what you were doing. Literally, fucking Franco Barbi.

You didn't think you'd be fucking the man who started that little gunfight in Cuba that one faithful day. You remember it fondly, actually; you killed a man for trying to rob you, and minutes later, you heard gunfire, sirens, and "spider eye lamb". All of which lead to the events which are now occurring. Well...and the constant trials against this fucker, who became obsessed with you the moment he saw you shove a knife through a man's gullet.

Barbi's hands were rough on your breasts, the gloves' material rubbing against your nipples as his tongue invaded your mouth. His saliva, thick and tasting of amaretto and almond milk, was shoved down your throat, his slimy pink tentacle-like appendage rushing to call your mouth his own. It felt disgusting and yet so arousing.

"Fuck yes, sweetness," He slurred after he pulled away, your shirt and pants gone and your back against the hard mattress he shoved you onto. "FUCK you smell divine." Your feet were planted against the floor, your toes almost gripping the wood with urgency.

The baggies of poisoned medicine were null, now; not like they mattered anymore, your pants in the corner of the red room. Much like his own, as you heard his belt buckle be toyed with.

"Gonna fuck ya," Barbi licked his lips, Lupara laying beside your head. Almost like a silent threat. Move and you die. "Gonna fuck ya tits, ya cunt...fuck- everything. FUCK. I've always wanted to do this shit, ever since that fuckin' day in Cuba."

He was eager, this you could tell, even through the haze of the antipsychotic he shoved down your throat. All you could think is, "Sorry Nurse Barlow".

But knowing her, she wouldn't hold it against you. She never did. These past couple of days, her false care seemed to dwindle and she actually seemed more...human, instead of fake. Maybe this place was getting to her.

Your tits were squeezed together, making you hiss; small trails of white essence began to stream down into the valley of your breasts, and before you knew it, a pink cockhead poked through, looking blurry to your vision.

You had never thought you'd see this fucker naked, let alone have his tongue shoved so deep down your fucking throat you thought he'd lap up your stomach acid like a desperate mutt.

Knowing him? He would. Oh, he'd mix it with amaretto and drink it like it's the blood of Christ himself.

His strange obsession for you was not at all kept subtle. Just weeks ago, when you two had first come to Sinyala - like a package deal! - he made it clear he wanted to pursue his affections, if his kissy noises were any indicator. You've lost some hair since coming here; maybe he put that shit on his wall, smelling it every night before bed. Maybe he kept some of your blood on his suit from when he killed you last Friday.

You never know with him. One day he's crying about how "you're fuckin' up my suit!", and the next he's googly eyed, begging you to spit on him. Weirdo.

Barbi's head was thrown back in pleasure as he began to thrust, his precum and the milk making it easy as pie for him to use your tits as a fleshlight, the cockhead close to pressing against your lips every time he thrust. "Fuckin' slut...that's what you are," he panted, now looking down at you with a pleased smirk. Sweat dripped down his head, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "My fuckin' slut..."

Mutt. Bambino. Dog. Lupara.

"Gonna...gonna fuckin' cum. You want that, mommy?" He leaned down slightly, his voice a murmur, "Want me to empty my fuckin' balls on these tits? That face? God, that tongue lickin' up my spunk...FUCK!"

His dirty talk did nothing but arouse him even more, as cum shot out of his eager cockhead and onto anything of yours that it could reach; your lips, your cheeks, your chest, your neck. Your body had more semen on it than it did clothing.

"Fucking...shit..." Barbi's voice was breathy, his cock retrieved from the valley between your tits. "You're a masterpiece, you know that? Fuckin' hell." He stroked the softening organ, clearly not intending to end this anytime soon; ohhh no, not when you're at his mercy, with your tits ballooned in size full of cream.

The presence of his cum didn't assauge him from forcefully pulling you up, now fully laying you back on the bed as opposed to just your bottom half hanging off. Now you, at least, had a pillow under your head.

It makes it harder to bash your head, though. To give yourself an exit, to avoid whatever the fuck he wants to do with you. Maybe you could smother yourself.

"I told ya sweetness," Barbi rasped, straddling your hips as he ground his hardening cock into your stomach. "You get caught with ya hand in the cookie jar..." He shed his trousers and shoes, now fully nude from the waist down. Lupara had fallen off after he positioned you, and his bandolier was on the floor, clearly abandoned in favour of making sure your fucking was unbothered.

"You get fucked sideways to Hell," he took your breasts into his gloved hands once more, leaning down to suckle on a swollen nipple; a banshee would be jealous, had she heard the screams that exited through your lips, your teeth gritting in pain. This didn't quell him — your screams rivaled his moans, his eyes clenched shut as his audible sucks were all that you heard. You wanted to kick him.

"Fucking shit," his voice was muffled around your breast one second, and within the next one, he was looking you in the face, his eyes lidded in pleasure.

"I knew you were fuckin' special...you know that? I knew you were," Barbi growled out, leaned down until your noses were close to touching, "Nobody's ever been able to handle me," he rasped, "they die too fuckin' quick. Where's the challenge in that?" He huffed a laugh, breathless as he tried to regain some control. "But you...fuck no, you just...you fuck everything up in my face, and you win. Fucking...insane, to me." He pushed himself up, pushing his hair back with a shaky hand; he was eager, his body didn't lie.

"I suppose this is both a reward...and a punishment, dollface," Barbi licked his lips, moving down to shove a gloved finger into your cunt; you were wet...wait, what?

Did this really arouse you? Maybe it did. Something in you liked being a little dominated, even if your dominator was a batshit insane mafia don who whined constantly about sluts, and whores, and drugs, and "wahhh be my mommy".

God, you were fucked in the head. But that's what Sinyala does to a mind...there's no denying that.

"You get fucked by a Barbi...and you get your shit fucked in for being a business ruining cunt," he sneered, pulling out of your pussy with roughness. If your traitorous cunt wasn't throbbing with need, you're sure it would have hurt. It throbbed even more as he began to lick at his slick fingers, purring like a maine coone drinking milk from its prized bowl.

"Try me," you found yourself able to force out; those stupid fucking drugs made your throat all fuzzy, but even rage itself can overpower anything. "I poisoned your drugs...nothing else you can do to me that's worse than being smacked around by the grunts outside."

Barbi and anger were often allied; he looked down at you with a glare, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. It took him a moment before he clenched his hand into a fist, a smirk slow to invade his lips. "Oh...you'll regret saying that, sweetness. I bet on that shit. But for now..."

He positioned himself between your legs, your calves sitting on his shoulders; his head turned to peck one of them as he lined his cock against your weeping folds, slowly thrusting his hips to get his organ wet and ready.

"Fuuuuck, you're a goddess...it's like we were made for each other," He muttered, his body quivering with glee, "You're mine, and I'm yours, it's meant to fuckin' be..." He gripped your knees, his gloves slightly warm against your skin as he thrust forward...

...completely missing your entrance.

You raised a brow, the drug slowly leaving your system, "Mmm...do all Barbi's miss?"

He looked flustered, maybe even embarrassed, but he barked a "Shaddup!" before he tried again.

And missed.

"Is this how you were made? Papa Barbi forgot to pull out? Are you all that fucking clumsy?"

The look on his face screamed "I'm gonna fuck you up", and the rage that followed your question seem to assist in his attempts to penetrate you; with a roar he thrust forward, finally sliding into your entrance until your skin smacked against each other, his cock hilted within your silken walls. Third time's the charm, they say.

It wasn't painful, you were much too slick for this to be painful, but a choked scream exited through your lips, "Fuck-"

He was surprisingly big. He didn't look like the type to be packing...but then again, why did you bet on his dick to be regular sized? Why were you thinking about his dick at all?

Oh, god. What has become of you?

"That's the fuckin' ticket!" He began to piston his hips, loud moans beginning to trail from him like a whore; god, he really was a whore, wasn't he? He sure sounded like one. You gripped onto the sheets below, his head thrown back in ecstacy as he refused to slow. The pace remained consistent, time feeling like it was just flying by. A social construct, your ass. Your body experienced pleasure like never before - why does he know what he's doing? Didn't his file say he's impotent? - but your mind began to wander. "Fuuuck, be my mommy...fuckfuckfuck, pleaseee..."

He has the hips of a rabbit. He calls you rabbit all the time. What does that make him? A mutt; you've already established this. Mutts usually eat rabbits.

Maybe he'll eat you, later. Maybe he'll tire of your little game of cat and mouse.

"Fuckfuckfuck-" He growled through his breathy moans, his balls slamming against your backside with each aggressively fast thrust, "That sight of you covered in blood, FUCK, that's all I can fuckin' think about, I love ya, fuck-"

Barbi leaned down, his lips smashing onto yours; teeth gnashed against teeth, the kiss being more violent than loving as he moaned into your mouth, his hips continuing their assault. Was he even capable of love? He loved bloodshed, and drugs, and Lupara. You were next on that list.

His teeth bit into your bottom lip, pulling it with him as he pulled away, his eyes clenching shut as he let his head fall, "Gonna fucking cum, you sexy bitch," He breathed, "Gonna paint that womb white, gonna...fuck," He cared not for your own pleasure - your clit would smack him right about now, poor thing - as his pace, almost scarily grew faster.

He was a true whore as he screamed in pleasure, his hips stuttering before hilting inside once more, his balls pulsing as they emptied his essence deep within you.

His pants were heavy as he let your calves fall from his shoulders. "Fucking hell, sweetness..."

"Back at ya," you forced out once more, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your head lolled to the side. Despite him being a selfish son of a bitch, it was still pleasurable for you. He just snickered at your comment.

"Oh, sweetness?"

"Yeah?" You turned to look, only to see a barrel.

Lupara.

"I told ya you'd regret sayin' things you surely don't mean."

And before you knew it, you heard it fire. Thankfully, you felt nothing. The world faded to black, and the last thing you felt was a kiss onto your cheek. Sloppy, and full of your milk.

Maybe pumping that antidote in you was a blessing more than it was a milk-fueled curse.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ ───

"She was found in the cabin," muttered a doctor to Nurse Barlow, his face full of disgust, "With Bambino's semen. He's been in his...chambers, since the shooting."

Barlow sighed, pinching the flesh between her brows, "I see."

"Put her on an indefinite dose of Levora immediately, Aviane if you see fit. God only knows this'll be a common occurence." He huffed, shaking his head, "Hendrick's an idiot for supporting that little shit's infatuation."

"...Understood," the blonde nurse muttered, clearly distressed; she knew Easterman sending you into that trial was a big mistake. He knows of Barbi's little...crush...on you, which had made his decision much more alarming.

She had scoffed when Easterman used the pathetically tame term. It was moreso an objectification. "An obsession," she had corrected within seconds after his declaration.

Barlow looked down at you with pity, your face peaceful. The doctor walked out, shaking in displeasure. With a sigh she turned around, grabbing a small cup of water, and two packets of pills.

Popping them from the package, she whistled lowly to herself, waiting on your awakened state to take the small batch of medication.

God help you, she thought.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ ───

Welp. You never thought Hell had floors to it. Aviane - or was it Levora? - was known for causing breast pain. Adding onto your lactation problem, you felt like shit.

You laid in bed, your breasts throbbing like mad as your hair wet the pillow below you. You were fresh out of a shower, feeling dirty after your little encounter.

Maybe, this time, you could take a break-

"Reagent [Name], please make your way to the shuttle."

Oh, great. With the roll of your eyes, you got up and made your way downstairs, the other Reagents participating in chess, arm wresltling, or simply standing, waiting for their demise.

Sinyala's effect on people was strange; Reagents either became obedient Murkoff-owned lap dogs, eager for every trial - sorry...therapy - or partythrowers who didn't let Big Bad Murkoff ruin their hedonistic lifestyles. Hell, one of them even made toilet wine and served it around the night you and Barbi were welcomed [how was that even possible?].

One nodded at you as you walked past, and looking up at the shuttle, it simply read;

Downtown.

...Here we go again.

[caspiansinclair]

TKM KANDREW QUOTES:

- Andrew being described as being: "fiercely protective and territorial of Kevin”

- "He wanted to send Kevin away, but Andrew would never let him get that far without a guard."

- "He'd trusted Neil with Kevin because Kevin was important to both of them"

- "Kevin became a permanent fixture at Andrew's side"

- "Andrew collected Kevin on his way back to Neil's side"

- "The last time Andrew looked a breath away from killing someone Neil had used Kevin as a distraction"

- "If Kevin got pounced Andrew would get involved. He dragged Kevin around the brawl instead so Andrew could see he was all right."

- "Andrew flicked his fingers in dismissal. ‘He knew what would happen if he laid a hand on Kevin, yet he was stupid enough to do it twice. If he does it again I will not be as friendly.’”

- "The last time Andrew looked a breath away from killing someone Neil had used Kevin as a distraction."

- the whole choking thing. sobs. kandrew angst

- "Andrew stayed behind to keep an eye on Kevin,"

- "Andrew stayed behind like Neil knew he would; Kevin needed Andrew more than Neil did today."

- " Andrew was conserving all his energy for Kevin's quiet meltdown,"

- "This wasn't a practice anymore; it was a fight. Andrew was trying to cut Kevin off at the pass, and Kevin was daring Andrew to keep up somehow. Exy had been a raw point between them since they'd met. It was the critical part of their friendship Andrew refused to acknowledge and Kevin couldn't fix, a dream Andrew wouldn't believe in and Kevin couldn't give up on. This was a shootout years in the making, and Neil could barely breathe as he watched them struggle. Neil could see their tempers starting to flare in the little things, a jerk of Kevin's racquet here and there and the increasing viciousness of Andrew's deflections. It was inevitable that Kevin would win. Even left-handed, Kevin put too much of himself into his practices to lose to Andrew here. Andrew had all the raw talent to be a champion but none of the finesse; he couldn't beat Kevin with sheer force alone. When Kevin landed five shots in a row, he dropped his racquet and stomped toward the goal. Andrew put his racquet to his shoulder and watched him come. Neil expected Kevin to start yelling. Instead Kevin caught the grill of Andrew's helmet and slammed him back against the goal wall. Neil flinched and started for the door, knowing he'd be too late to stop Andrew from gutting Kevin but needing to try. Halfway there he stopped, because Andrew hadn't moved. His fist was at his side in an aborted punch and he hadn't even thrown Kevin off of him. He simply stood there and listened to whatever Kevin was snarling in his face. At length Kevin let go and turned away. Andrew shoved him in the back with the butt of his racquet hard enough Kevin stumbled and stepped up to the goal line again. A few seconds later they were back at it as if nothing had ever happened, and they kept going until Kevin finally had to sit down."

- idk. but i felt the need to put this in here: "Kevin turned and walked away. The interviewer stared after him for an endless moment, then spun back toward the camera and started rambling away about everything Kevin had just said. Neil and Andrew didn't stick around for the recap or bewildered speculating but followed close behind Kevin. Kevin didn't slow or look around on his way to the locker room, and he pushed right past his celebrating teammates in the foyer. He dropped his helmet and gloves on his way across the changing room and caught hold of the edge of the sink. He swayed a bit like his legs wanted to give out from under him and his hands were trembling so violently Neil could see it from the doorway. Instead of falling he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the mirror. "We're all going to die," Kevin said at last. "No, we're not," Neil said. Kevin thought about that for a minute, then straightened. After staring at his reflection for an age he lifted his hand and covered his tattoo on the glass. The result sent an odd tremor along Kevin's shoulders. Neil didn't know if it was approval or fear. All that mattered was that Kevin nodded and turned back to them. He looked at Neil first, then Andrew. "We have a lot of work to do." "Tomorrow," Andrew said, and ignored the way Neil looked at him. Kevin accepted that promise with a nod, and he and Andrew headed for the showers."

- "Neil looked back at him, but Andrew was studying Kevin. Andrew crossed the room to stand at Neil's side and caught Kevin's chin in his hand. He turned Kevin's head to inspect the new ink."

- "He doubted either Kevin or Andrew noticed; they were too busy staring each other down. At length Andrew smiled, slow and cold. It was the first time he'd smiled since coming off his drugs, and Neil couldn't help but stare. "Now it's getting fun," Andrew said. "Finally," Kevin said, equal parts exhaustion and exasperation." (JDKSSNAJ)

- “Choose us,” Neil said. It was enough to shut Andrew up—maybe only for a second, but Neil would take any opening he could get. “Kevin’s going to retake his spot on Court before he graduates. He thinks I can make the cut with enough practice and fine. Come with us. Let’s all play in the Olympics together one day. We’d be unstoppable.”

[sunflowersoldat]

Blood in the Water - Fresh Meat

Hello lovelies! It's been a very long time, I have been working on something entirely different in my personal time, hopefully one day soon I can share it. In the meantime, I got the itch to take a break from my project and have been wanting to revisit this little AU for some time now!

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Spin-off to All is Fair. Mob syndicates are yours and your partner's specialty. They don't call you the Sharks for nothing. There is blood in the water in New York City, not only is know Mob affiliate Steve Rogers missing, but the two other Mob bosses died in a huge shootout last year. It is up to you and your partner to uncover the truth, but not all is as it seems.

Series Warnings: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter. There are chapters with brutal and dark themes, please read at your own discretion, warnings will be before each chapter!

Chapter warnings: Actually this is pretty much warning free, alluding to mob dealings and some language.

Pairing: Mob!Buckyx FBI Agent!reader

Word Count: 1712

“White.” 

The deep timber of Bull’s voice pulls you from your trance, gaze falling back onto your phone.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Your gaze flickers back up the building towering over you. The clouds above wash over it in a dull gray. 

You straighten your fake press badge clipped to the belt of your skirt, today you were Joey King, senior investigating reporter for the Daily Bugle.

“You’ve got this. It’s just another case, kid, treat him the way you would any other mafioso.”

Except this is the head of the Rogers family, you thought. Taking a deep breath you release through your nose, you ask, “You on site?”

“Never too far away sweetheart.”

Good. Without a goodbye you hang up the phone slipping it into your messenger bag as you make your way into the building. 

A friendly redhead looks up from the front desk, soft green eyes sparkling when she smiles in greeting. 

The name on your badge falls from her lips, “Mr. Barnes is in his office ready for you. Please just follow me.”

You nod as she slips out from behind the desk leading the way, “It’s Ms. Maximoff, correct?”

She nods, “Yes, but please call me Wanda.”

You return her smile, “Of course. Have you worked for the Howling Commandos for long?”

She keeps her smile, but a glimmer of mistrust flickers in her eyes, “For long enough.”

“So you know Steve Rogers?”

A flicker of sadness shone in her eyes, “Yes.”

You sweeten your smile, false sadness flickering in your own eyes, “It must be really hard on all of you, with him missing. I couldn’t imagine…” placing your hand to your heart, you play the concerned reporter quite well.

Her smile doesn’t meet her eyes anymore as she knocks on the door next to her. “It is.”

A gruff ‘come in’ sounds through the door.

Wanda clears her throat as she swings the door open, greeting the man at the desk, again your name falls from her lips.

“Thanks Wanda, that’ll be all.”

She nods, backing out of the room, the door closing with her.

Your attention shifts to the man as he rises from his desk to shake your hand, “It's nice to finally meet you Ms. King.”

His eyes graze over you, taking in every detail from your stilettos, to the black skirt with the badge and wine red button down, finally meeting your eyes again. 

His eyes don't linger on you like you’d half expect them to. As far as the ladies in the city say, Barnes has never shied away from a woman he found attractive. You had hoped to exploit that detail, but it seems that little bit of intel was false… or you weren’t his type. Either way, he would play into your hands like they always do.

Your smile is saccharine as you take a seat in front of his desk, pulling a notepad and pen from your bag, “I could say the same, James Barnes, you are a hard man to get ahold of.”

He’s very business-like, from his tailored suit and polished shoes to the oh-so-fake smile that's plastered on his face. There isn't a hair on his head that's out of place, that in and of itself is a glaring redflag. 

He sighs as he sits back in his chair, hands clasped on his desk, “I’m a busy man, the business doesn’t run itself. So, what can I do for you?”

Busy. You couldn’t help but wonder what all his business entailed. Did he look the part of the Mafioso? Yes, but that wasn’t enough for a warrant or a judge. If looking like a mafioso was enough to warrant jail time, most corporate men would be serving time. Not that they didn’t deserve it for other reasons… 

“What are your thoughts on the events from this past year?”

“Events?” confusion laces his tone.

Your eyes flicker from your notes to him, he looks bored, emotions hidden behind a well-worn mask.

 “The killings, Mr. Barnes. The attacks on your businesses, do you think they have a connection to Mr. Rogers being missing?”

His brows raise, he chuckles lowly, 

“Attacks? The warehouse fire was ruled as a gas leak. As for the other businesses, I was told the police had picked up a group of teenagers causing havoc on that side of town. And if I remember correctly, more than just our businesses were affected.”

Your brows furrow, but you nod, “Speaking of business, has Mr. Rogers’s disappearance affected dealings with other companies?”

“Howling Commandos Shipping Company has continued to operate the way Steve would run it. Profits are rising and there is no shortage of work Ms. King.”

“I can see that in the stock market, Mr. Rogers’s company is at a record breaking high…” you tap your pin to your lips, Barnes’s eyes follow the movement and linger just a little too long; gotcha. “It must be easy for you to take over the business, you and Mr. Rogers were like brothers, I’m told, you must know all of his business practices.”

His eyes flick back to yours, “I was his right hand for many years, I’d say I knew him best.”

“Yes I thought you would. It must be difficult coming into the office without him… Is that why you were not on the list of suspects in his disappearance?”

His smile tightens, “That Ms. King would be a question for the police. And if that is all, I really must get back to work, as I said, I am a very busy man…”

Your smile falters, his answers are too easy; rehearsed, you need to throw him off kilter. “You are right Mr. Barnes, I do apologize. You must be endlessly busy… being that your previous boss went missing, I would say you have more responsibility and more power than before.”

There is a slight tick in his jaw, but he remains quiet as you continue, “Would you say your boss’s disappearance has…” you tap the pen to your lips, again his eyes linger there, watching as you bite your lower lip, “Well, it looks like you've had good fortune, would you say it has been beneficial to you, Mr. Barnes? Mr. Rogers’s disappearance, that is.”

Aside from the tick in his jaw, he keeps his composure well, his two thumbs tap against each other as he debates his answer. He swallows, “Tell me, Ms. King, why did you take this story.”

The deflection didn’t surprise you, you had done your research, knew what buttons to press, heard the talk amongst the other detectives, unsightly criminals, knew the Right Hand of the mafioso head when you saw one. You personally had flipped many loyal rats: offered them less jail-time, a way out or anonymity, and they ate out of your palm.

“Mr. Rogers was a well-known pillar of the community. New York deserves to know the truth behind his untimely disappearance.”

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, “How long have you worked for The Bugle?” 

You sigh, “This is an interview for you, Mr. Barnes, not for me. My information is on the Bugle’s website, but if you must know, I’ve worked there for five years.”

He tilts his head, “Forgive me, I like to know who I am talking to… You’re a little young to be a senior investigative reporter, no?”

“I’m good at what I do. And it seems you should research those you let into your office beforehand.”

He nods, a glint of something flickers in his eyes, you can't place it, but it makes your stomach churn. “Some advice then,” he stands from his desk, placing a hand on either arm of your chair. Tantalizingly close, you take him in coolly, you hadn't noticed earlier, but his left hand glinted in the light. Instead of flesh it was dark glittering metal with thin strips of gold. 

Craning your neck you meet his gaze, “I suggest you drop the story, kid. It's a dead end, and better to quit now before it gets you into trouble.” 

His eyes don't match his words, they are bored, not a glimmer of threat. A smile pulls at your lips, “I find that the stories most claim are dead ends, tend to be the most interesting. If that is a threat, I don’t scare easily, Mr. Barnes.”

He huffed a laugh, licking his lips, “Wasn't meant as a threat, Ms. King, merely some professional advice.” he pulls away, moving toward the door. 

Sighing you roll your eyes before rising to follow him. You stop short of the threshold, “You may be a busy man Mr. Barnes, don’t make the mistake thinking you are the only one. You didn't answer my questions.”

He leaned against the door, a single brow raised, “No, I guess I didn't. Then again, I agreed to see you, not answer your questions.”

Pursing your lips you nod, “So it seems… Well, I offer a bit of professional advice then, I suggest declining an offer to interview, instead of wasting someone’s time.”

“I’ll take that into consideration, Ms. King.”

You eye him, letting the ire fill your gaze, “Good-day, James Barnes.” without another word or looking back you can feel his gaze burning into your back as you make your way down the hall. 

A younger man with brown waves passes you, a bright smile on his face that falters slightly when he sees what you can assume is Barnes glaring at you from behind.

Out onto the busy sidewalk, you let your shoulders relax a little as you hail a taxi. You settle into your seat as the clouds that had rolled in from the harbor finally crack open and drench the city.

The whole interaction hadn’t been completely useless, it did shed some light on who James Barnes was. Which questions he answered, which he didn’t, how much information he offered, and what he omitted. James Barnes only solidified your suspicions, Howling Commandos Shipping Co. was only a front for their mafia business. Steve Rogers had been its head, and one thing was glaringly clear, Steve Rogers was not missing. Not in the traditional sense of the word.

Settle in James Barnes, this is only the beginning.

Tag list:

@daiseychaindisaster @dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

[that-sudsy]

Task Force 141 : The Weekend part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

It was supposed to be a routine mission for Task Force 141, but as fate would have it, a miscalculation during a mid-air shootout sent them plummeting into the lush, green mountains of nowhere. The team—Soap, Price, Gaz, and Ghost—woke up groaning, their ears ringing like a church bell on Sunday morning. They checked each other for injuries, relieved to find that they were all intact, albeit a bit bruised and battered.

“Right, lads, let’s figure out where we are,” Price said, rubbing his temples. Gaz was already trying to reach Laswell for a pickup, but the radio was as dead as a doornail.

“Where are we exactly?” Soap asked, peeking through a bush. Just then, a man and woman galloped by on horses, leaving the team staring in disbelief.

“Did we just fall into a Western movie?” Ghost muttered, adjusting his mask as if it would somehow make him less conspicuous.

“Looks like we found the road,” Price said, spotting the dirt path the horsemen had taken. They decided to hide their weapons, opting for their smaller sidearms as they ventured into the unknown.

As they walked, they stumbled upon a quaint little town that looked like it had been plucked straight from a postcard. Horses trotted along the streets, country music wafted through the air, and the townsfolk greeted them with friendly waves. It was a stark contrast to the chaos they were used to.

“Blimey, this place is… nice,” Price said, his eyes sparkling with wonder. “I could get used to this.”

“Graves just multiplied,” Soap whispered under his breath, eyeing the locals with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

A woman in a plaid shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat approached them, her thick country accent dripping with sarcasm. “Well, look what the cat dragged in! Y’all new ‘round here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Price replied, trying to sound authoritative despite the absurdity of the situation.

The woman led them to the local diner, where the chef served them a feast fit for kings. The mayor, a jolly fellow with a twinkle in his eye, welcomed them with open arms. “Y’all should stay for the week! No radio connection until tomorrow Evening or so?, so you’re stuck with us!”

“Stuck?” Ghost raised an eyebrow, but the smell of fresh patties wafting from the kitchen made him reconsider.

Just then, the mayor provided them a house they could say for the weekend.

an old woman knocked on their temporary house’s door, and Soap, ever the skeptic, prepared for a fight. Instead, she handed him a fresh pie. His eyes widened in disbelief as he accepted it, looking at his teammates as if he’d just won the lottery.

“Is this a trap?” Gaz asked, eyeing the pie suspiciously.

“Only one way to find out,” Soap said, taking a bite. The taste exploded in his mouth—sweet cranberry filling and a buttery crust that made his soul sing. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

After devouring the pie, they were given clothes to change into—jeans, plaid shirts, and cozy jumpers. They looked like a country band that had lost its way, but they didn’t care.

As they explored the town, they discovered it was preparing for its annual fair. Colorful banners adorned the streets, and laughter filled the air. Price was practically glowing with excitement, helping the townsfolk decorate as if he’d found his true calling.

Soap found himself in a barn, where the woman he’d met earlier was stacking hay bales. “Need a hand?” he asked, flashing his best smile.

“Sure thing, handsome,” she replied, her accent thick and charming. Soap couldn’t help but grin like a fool as they worked side by side.

Gaz wandered over to the dance stage, where a woman was fixing the setup. “What’s this for?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s for the fair! We love a good dance and a little music,” she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Ghost had found a quiet spot on a hay bale, sipping homemade lemonade. He was soon surrounded by a gaggle of kids, all bombarding him with questions about his mask. “Why do you wear that? Are you a superhero?” one little girl asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Uh, something like that,” Ghost replied, trying to escape their clutches but failing miserably.

As the day wound down, the team reconvened at their temporary house. Soap was the last to arrive, hay sticking out of his mohawk and a smug grin plastered on his face.

“What happened to you?” Ghost asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, L.T.,” Soap replied, rubbing his face as if trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Ah, it’s a girl, isn’t it?” Price chuckled, catching the glint of excitement in Soap’s eye.

“Just a dinner invitation and a promise to ride horses,” Soap said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

The next day was the fair......

[chirpingfromthebox]

The Frost's Post-game Press Session from 1/15/2025 - MIN at NYC

The Minnesota Frost's post-game press session following their away game against the New York Sirens on 1/15/2025.

At the table were head coach Ken Klee and forward Taylor Heise.

Transcription of the video is under the break.

[Video begins]

Reporter:

Ken, tonight the powerplay just wasn’t able to get started against the Sirens. Was there a particular reason or just an off night for you guys?

[Taylor Heise definitely makes a face when that question was asked.]

[ID: A screenshot from the session. Taylor Heise is sitting at the table next to Ken Klee and she is giving a look I can only describe as like someone rolling their eyes and going, "yeesh!" /. End ID]

KEN KLEE:

Yeah, I thought it was a couple of things. I thought they really pressured at the right time. You know, they tripled up whenever they had a chance, whenever we weren’t sharp with the puck. And you know, they did a good job on it. They kept us on our heels. It was just one of those things. We still had a couple good looks. We had one right coming down the slot. You get, I’d say, two good looks per powerplay then you feel like you’re still generating. But tonight it was just tough. They did a good job on the kill. I think it was a combination: we just weren’t quite as sharp as we have been and, credit to them, they did a good job as well.

Reporter:

Taylor, the third time out of 4 games this season you guys have gone to overtime with New York—or a shootout—is there- Do you sense a rivalry brewing? Or is there any kind of, like, friendly fire in a sense of when you see New York on the schedule you’re kinda looking forward to those games?

[She hides it well, but this session is probably the most annoyed I can remember ever seeing Heise.]

[ID: A screenshot from the session. Ken Klee looks a little sad and Taylor Heise is looking off the side and as if she wants to start a fight. /. End ID]

TAYLOR HEISE:

Yeah, I think we’ve left some things to be decided, I guess, during these games. And it’s- I don’t know if it’s more of a rivalry more so with them or just with our own selves. I think- You know, we want to win every single game, but we know in this league that’s not always gonna happen. But as long as you come out- like we took a point. That’s not always what you want, but you want something when you come out of it. And I think when you look at these games they’re all gonna be close. But, yeah, you think we, obviously looking at it after this, I think we’re gonna have a chip on our back that we need to kinda get going a little bit.

Reporter:

Taylor, when you’re approaching a shootout, I don’t know how much insight you can provide, but how do you change it up? Do you really plan it out beforehand? What’s your thought process going into it? Especially when you go more than once.

TAYLOR HEISE:

Yeah, I think for me, I just try to have something in my mind. And then I think when I- when you stick to one thing: that can change very quickly. So the first one, that wasn’t what I was planning on doing. I just saw that she was deep in the net, tried something else, she made a really good kick save, behind her back, whatever. But yeah, I just think when you have- when you're getting these chances, obviously coach is putting me out there because he has confidence in what I’m doing. And the last one I needed to put in the net. Like, that’s simply on me and I will take credit for that one. But yeah, I just try to have an open mind because if I get closed down, I just think that it doesn’t work for me.

Reporter:

Ken, throughout those series this year you guys have been the more dominant team pretty much in every period. Like, you’ve only come away with a win once. Is there a sort of reason to it? You’ve been causing them to turn the puck over on force and everything, but yet you aren’t able to capitalize off of it.

KEN KLEE:

Yeah, I mean, games are tight. We know they’re gonna- all the games are gonna be tight. We’ve had tight games with them. I mean we’re a minute away from getting 3 points and they get a 6-on-5 goal late. You know, I mean, obviously they hemmed us in 6-on-4 for a long time and then we got tired, we didn’t get it clear. So you know we’re a minute away from getting 3 points. So it’s nothing major that we need to change up. It’s a good game. Both teams are battling hard and it’s tough to get points.

[End of video.]

[allzelemonz]

Man’s Man: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is very heavily portrayed a conventional masculine man and is referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB heavily implied Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Incredibly gay and closeted Bill, period typical homophobia, Reader is very masculine and Bill is a simp, masturbation, pining, this is self indulgent Summary: Bill can’t get over you and he feels silly and wrong for every thought that comes into his mind, but he can’t help it.

He feels wrong. Bill knows it’s wrong, it’s very wrong. But when you pat his shoulder after a successful robbery he decides he doesn’t really want it to be wrong. He shouldn’t watch you when you walk away, but he does. He does and he enjoys every step you take. His mouth has gone dry and his heart is too fast to ignore so he goes to the fire and tries to forget what he’s imagining.

He stares into the fire, a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand as he tries to forget all the things he likes about you. Your thick arms that have pulled him out of shootouts more times than he can count, your broad chest that he’s felt against his back when you’ve given him a friendly clap on the shoulder, your voice that rumbles in his mind as he recalls every nice thing you’ve said to him. It all feels sappy to him, like he’s some lovesick girl, so he turns his thoughts. A man doesn’t think like that, if he can’t forget you then he can at least think the way a man like you would.

So he finds a place in the trees and turns his thoughts to the handful of times he’s seen you without a shirt. The time you were changing and he happened to walk by, the time you were hurt and Charles had to look at the wound while you were all away from camp, and that hot day when you were doing chores around camp. He can feel it now. So he thinks of the time you held him back from getting in a fight at the saloon. Your arm wrapped around his waist and you pulled him back like it was nothing.

“Shit…” Bill mutters.

His hands fumble as he drops his whiskey and stuffs one very shaky hand past his waistband. He finds himself quickly and he grips tight, giving himself a squeeze. Then he remembers to spit into his hand so he can lean back and let his mind wander to you again. He doesn’t last long when the images from the job come to mind. Your mask hides your features as you force the bank manager to unlock the safe, the shotgun in your hands pressed to the man’s back.

Bill shutters, biting back a moan as he cums over his hand and stains his pants. “Shit…” He mutters again.

He wipes his hand off on the inside of his pants as he tries to get control of himself again. His legs are a little shaky so he stays put until he can stand properly again. Then he rushes to his tent and changes his pants before he returns to the fire, hesitating a bit when he sees you there talking to Javier. But he sits and you look at him with a smile.

“Hey, Williamson.” You say, making a shiver go over him. “Tell Javier he’s wrong about all that shit in Valentine.”

“What’s that?” Bill asks, trying to sound like a man who didn’t just get off to the thought of the man in front of him.

“He was sayin’,” Javier sways, drunk in his seat. “That I was the one that got us arrested.”

Bill smiles to himself. You had to come and get them from the saloon when Dutch got worried, you took his arm and pulled him out while you pushed Javier ahead. It was Javier that punched a deputy in the street and got the three of you thrown in a cell. He slept just a few inches from you and it took every ounce that remained of his drunken sense to not put his head on your chest and hope you put your arm around him.

Bill shakes his head. “It were you, dumbass.”

“Lies!” Javier laughs. “You’re both liars.”

You chuckle and it makes Bill’s heart skip. It’s such a comforting sound, he wishes he heard it more.

“Let’s get you to bed, Escuella.” You say, pulling Javier from his seat.

“No, no…” Javier mumbles.

You pull him up and get him somewhat steady on his feet. “Take care, Bill.”

Bill wants to say something but his mouth has gone dry again. He watches you pull Javier along like a ragdoll, half wishing it was him you’re taking care of.

[ejzah]

A/N: After an extremely long break, I’ve returned with this story after someone on ff.net requested an update.

***

There’s Nothing Friendly About It, Part 4

“Hm, maybe I should have picked a different book,” Kensi mused, flipping to the next page of a worn copy of “Jane Eyre”. She’d just finished narrating a heartbroken Jane leaving Mr. Rochester. “I remember it being less…depressing last time I read it,” Kensi continued to Deeks, even though she knew he wouldn’t respond.

From everything she’d read, reading was supposed to stimulate brain activity, and Kensi would do anything that might help Deeks regain consciousness. It had the added benefit of filling the silence and keeping her mind occupied. Nell had dropped off a small stack of books, including a couple Harry Potters, a terrible looking romance, and a couple of fantasy novels the other day.

“Why were crazy wives in old books always from tropics? Maybe we should switch to Harry Potter. Right now He Who Must Not He Named seems a little less dark. What do you think?”

“Not the fifth one.”

Kensi’s head snapped up at Deeks’ croaked request. His eyes were slightly cracked, his head turned towards her.

“Deeks,” she whispered, all but falling out the chair in her desperation to be at his side.

“Mm,” he grunted.

“Oh my god, you’re awake!” She cupped his cheek, needing to confirm what her eyes were telling him. His skin was just as pale and cool as before, but she saw the spark of light in his eyes.

“I’m guessing it would be in poor taste to joke right now?” Deeks said, pausing every few words to catch his breath. When he was done, he cleared his throat.

“You’ve been unconscious for six days,” Kensi told him carefully. “Do you remember what happened.

“Something not good.” He coughed a couple times and winced. “I remember something about mechanic and fraud, but nothing else. Did I get shot or stabbed this time?”

“How about we talk about that after I get a nurse?”

Deeks narrowed his eyes at her, but it didn’t have its usual affect since he blinked halfway through.

“I’ll be right back.” She hurried off, grabbing the first nurse she found (they all new her at this point), who immediately grabbed a car and accompanied Kensi back to Deeks’ room.

The nurse performed the usual checks and asked Deeks a series of orientation questions. For once, he wasn’t actively flirting, but Kensi could tell the nurse was charmed by all the same. Especially when he recalled her name.

“Well, your blood pressure, oxygen, and heart rate are in a good range,” she said. “I’ll ask the speech pathologist come around to assess you and

let your doctor know you’re awake.”

“Thank you, Renee.”

“Oh, you’re going to be trouble.” Smiling at Deeks, she patted his arm, then added to Kensi. “Don’t give him anything to drink or eat until the speech pathologist is by. Ok?”

Any worry Kensi had about Deeks insisting she answer his questions turned out to be unnecessary since his eyes started slipping closed again shortly after Nurse Renee left. He slept restlessly until the speech pathologist came.

She brought in a tray of various liquids and foods, giving Deeks a little of each to try. After that, she asked him a variety of questions and story problems. Even with his energy clearly waning again, Deeks answered them with little difficulty.

In the end, she determined that Deeks didn’t have any trouble with swallowing and aside from some confusion with the date and time, his cognition appeared to be unaffected. Kensi quietly sighed in relief.

Once the room was empty again, Deeks patted the side of his bed, waiting until Kensi gingerly scooted in beside him. He looked thoroughly exhausted and in pain, but determined.

She curled around him as best she could, automatically threading a hand through his hair.

“Ok, what happened?” Deeks asked.

“We went to the mechanics garage, just like you remembered and it turned into a shootout,” Kensi started. “You were hit.” She paused, needing to steel herself against the pain of remembering him laying on the ground, trying to stop his bleeding, and then watching him lose consciousness.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m here,” Deeks murmured, shaking her free of the memories.

“The doctors said the bullet hit a small artery. You nearly bled out.” She shuddered, and Deeks kissed her temple.

“I guess that explains why it feels like several elephants walked over me.”

“Deeks.”

“I’m sorry.” He tried to slide his arm around her, but gave up when he couldn’t figure out the tangle of IVs. “Did we catch the guys who did it?”

“Um, yeah, they’re either dead or under arrest,” Kensi said. She knew what he was asking, and that she was lying by omission. She also knew she couldn’t tell him the truth. She hadn’t even come to terms with the reality that he’d been shot by a teammate.

“Good,” Deeks sighed. He closed his eyes, then squinted one back open almost immediately. “You’ll stay here?”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

Closing his eyes again, he settled into the pillow. Kensi ran her fingers through his hair, relief overshadowing every other emotion.

The truth could wait until later.

[daenystheedreamer]

do u have a great bastard oc

i dont i should make one.... ok its twins. rylene and roy waters are born to rhea waters, the natural daughter of lord celtigar by a tyroshi merchant. pre-king, maybe between meg and casella or just after cassella. rhea is a bit older than aegon, maybe a lot older... she's her father's treasurer and lord celtigar is lord treasurer for the king so maybe they meet that way :) or aegon is lured like in a cartoon with pie smell.

i hc the celtigars having watery blue eyes but theyre like NAUR ITS LAVENDER ITS VIOLET ITS THE LIGHT IT CHANGES!!! born silver haired blue eyed. rhea dyed her hair bright red and the kids do it too and also rhea is called the crayfish so theyre called the crayfish twins. (eagle eyed viewers will see where they will be headed...)

anyway theyre raised mostly out of the spotlight to avoid getting sent off to the faith like meg's daughters. hair dyed red to avoid talk but everyone knows♡♡♡ rylene is lord celtigar' cupbearer and roy is a squire, later knight of the city watch.

after aegon is crowned, the twins show up at court and petition for a small loan of a million dragons which they use to open a beautiful night club in king's landing. they are gangsters♡♡♡ rylene is the brains and roy is the muscle. they're a bit robin hood, stealing and blackmailing from rich nobles to help out flea bottom. its rhe hottest nightclub in KL and they franchise it theres a couple in the riverlands and a bunch in the reach and westerlands. they try to expand to dorne but aegon does sanctions so they cant :/

they have no ambitions for dragons or the throne. the throne is nothing to them its an illusion the throne is there to beg for money which they MAYYY provide for a cost.... rylene becomes an unofficial mistress of whispers 👀

they think their siblings are annoying jocks or emo tryhards. they do fund the blackfyre rebellion a bit on BOTH sides. they dont get arrested cos no one can prove anything. later roy kills a guy in a duel (lovers quarrel) and rylene nearly successfully gaslights everyone during the trial but roy gets imprisoned for a little bit rip. rylene pulls in favours tho so they get him out, it was basically just a gaycation for roy.

still alive by egg's time, at least rylene. maybe roy got killed in a medieval shootout. dunk n egg get free drinks♡♡♡ apply juice for egg tho. both twins hit on dunk and he doesnt get it hes like damn these targs are friendly... so weird.... probably not aegons kids ig

[softnsquishable]

My only negative takeaway from the meet and greet with Joe and Rick was the fans. And not the Fall Out Boy fans.

Joe and Rick sat together at a table, and the way we lined up, it was Joe first, Rick second. Rick is a much bigger name than I thought, and it was a slow moving line, but what I saw when I got towards the front was totally disheartening.

When I went to the Dying Inside event, I did not know who Hannah or Lisa were beyond the book, but I stopped to talk to them, complimented their style, etc. I didn't beeline for Pete, as this was also their work.

Joe was sitting there, sweet little smile on his face, greeting everyone that came by. And people wouldn't even look at him. They turned away, facing Rick, and ignored him even when he said hi and asked how they were doing. I can't say that every single person did this, but I was there for over an hour, and every interaction I saw that wasn't with a Fall Out Boy fan was the same.

I understand that they don't know who Joe is, but I feel like this was totally ignorant and rude behavior, especially when Joe was friendly and trying to engage. These people chose to stand there right in front of Joe and start at Rick talking to the next person in line for five minutes instead of even saying hello back. I know it's your hero, but none of the Fall Out Boy fans did this the other way around - after we chatted with Joe, we moved down and said hi to Rick, even those of us who had never read a single comic.

This is not an attack on anybody in particular, and I'm not saying "we need to be defending poor Joe for this". And I get it that Joe was just some guy to these people. But I don't think it possibly could've felt good to be there ready to meet and greet with all your free comics out on the table to have people just turn their back to you and completely ignore you. And Rick did try and bring Joe into his own conversations when he could, so shootout to Rick for that!

The pro to this was when the fans got up to Joe, we got to have a nice conversation and a relaxed experience chatting with him. But at least say hi to the guy when he's sitting right there, and he says hi first!

[shesintoomanyfandoms]

“Ari,” I nudge her. “Customer!”

“Right!” she says, jolted into action. It’s her first day working here: my family runs this place, and I help out when there isn’t too much homework. But it’s summer now, and we both need jobs, so here we are.

Seaside Sandwiches: barely seaside, but they’re the best sandwiches in the city. And everyone knows it.

Including, as it happens—

“—Marco Aiello! And you would be?” a friendly voice booms out.

Oops.

I may have forgotten to mention to Ari the fact, that, well: the mafia frequents this place.

Yeah, I should probably intervene. I dash up to the counter and Ari gives me a Look like girl what have you gotten me into and I respond with my own Look, a Look that says I’ve got it under control.

“Mr. Aiello! Lovely to have you back,” I greet him, and he grins. “Sage! Your parents have you holding down the fort, huh? Working hard or hardly working?” he jokes.

“Working hard! Speaking of, would you like the regular?” I ask him.

“You got it!” I give him a thumbs up. “Ari, that’s just a bacon, egg, and cheese. I can man the register.” Ari shoots me grateful look and flees the scene as Mr. Aiello hands me the cash (“Keep the change, Sage, I insist,”) and finds a table. The door opens again, and this time it’s—oh, great.

Officer Jackson.

Officer Jackson’s a nice guy, okay? Don’t get wrong. He tips extra, he’s polite, and he’s patient with us.

Unfortunately, he’s also employed by the NYPD. And the NYPD and the mafia—to no one’s surprise—aren’t exactly on good terms.

And yeah, the NYPD happen to know we make good sandwiches too.

Hmm.

Yeah, I’m starting to think that I probably should have gone a bit more in-depth about the job before Ari started working here.

“Hi, Officer Jackson!” I say a little louder than necessary, trying to get him to break the mutual dirty look he’s currently sharing with Mr. Aiello. “So! What’s your order?”

He looks back over at me, but he’s (thank god) back to being polite. “Just a BLT, thank you. That and a small coffee. Milk, no sugar.” I salute him, swipe his card, and take a step towards the kitchen to tell Sage the other sandwich order, but I hesitate. Mr. Aiello and Officer Jackson aren’t having a shootout right now, so we should be fine. Hopefully.

I dart into the kitchen. “BLT too,” I tell Ari. She looks up from where she’s preparing the bacon.

“When were you going to tell me the literal mafia orders here? Girl, I’m like ninety percent sure that I saw his face in the New York Times the other day. And not because he was saving any kittens.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you! It just seems kind of normal to me now. Y’know?”

She rolls her eyes, but chuckles. “I swear, only you. Only you would be accustomed to the mafia head honchos showing up in a sandwich shop.”

I shrug playfully. “Carpe diem. I’ve got a day to seize and hell to raise, plus a tip jar to fill. And Lord knows the mob practically lines their coats with Ben Franklins.”

She rolls her eyes once more. “Get out there and serve customers! It’s your job.” I raise my arms in mock surrender and head out to the main shop again.

And Mr. Aiello and Officer Jackson are… sitting at the same table?

They’re talking in low, hushed whispers. There’s some agitated hand-flailing. And if I listen closely enough, I can barely hear them.

“…don’t try pulling anything…” Officer Jackson is whispering, to which Mr. Aiello seems to take offense.

“—been coming here for years, you strut into this place and all of a sudden I’m Satan, (…) just looking for an excuse—”

“No! I’m not!” Officer Jackson says, seemingly a little louder than he intended to. He quickly lowers his voice. “Look. The shop is neutral. If neither of us do anything here, there’s no reason for the other to understand. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Mr. Aiello says through gritted teeth.

But my mind isn’t on the antagonism between the cop and the mobster in front of me. All I can think is, thank god.

I really didn’t wanna clean up from a shootout.

Note: I literally did not realize Officer Jackson and Percy Jackson… whoops. They aren’t the same dude. How I forgot to switch the name, seeing as the book series is literally called Percy Jackson, makes me question my brain’s ability to brain… but whatever.

You run a quaint deli that’s beloved by the Italian mob. The NYPD have also become frequent patrons. Neither want to start a confrontation in your shop.

[fishyfiasco]

Absolutely killer idea of mine to continue to go into Tumbleweed or whatever the town is called despite the at LEAST 40 black x’s scattered across the town and the four blue dots running around and constant gunfire.

Anyways important side note; I just started the game. I figured the four dots were all just one posse and that the x’s were just a bunch of npc or lawmen. It’s whatever. Not my issue. I’m just here to sell pelts. I figure as long as I don’t loot any of the bodies or start shooting or get in the way they will just let me do my stuff.

But the SECOND I go under the little wooden gate entrance thingy, one of the people went down. REALLY close by. And I get a notif on how to revive people. And I keep walking for a second before I’m like “ah fuck it. Might as well revive him” and I hop off my horse and run like the 3 seconds it took me to get to him and he’s obviously backing up as much as he can downed since some random person just ran up to him but I just revive him and run away back onto my horse. Nothing further. Shooting continues and I see people running around and I sell my pelts staying out of the way and then I’m heading to the general store to buy apples for my horse when I run into one of these little blue dots. And he runs up to me and pulls out a gun and I’m like “oh I can just show him I’m friendly and give a little wave” and in the mere second it took me to get halfway from finding the emotes to getting into mid wave he SHOOTS ME!! The nerve. I die. Anyways I respawn and press charges cause I thought that was a bit uncalled for

Second anyways but I respawn and I return. To Tumbleweed. And as I’m riding over I’m like “wow that was so rude. I can’t believe he did that” Aaannnd here’s where I realize that it’s not one posse. It’s two. Two stars and two little blue dots. And that this whole time since the beginning no npc’s have been running about. I walked into a gun fight. A gun fight between two posses. And I helped the leader of the one(blue star) And the other guy from the other posse(blue dot) shot me. I have made a grave mistake. I realize this and continue on to Tumbleweed with gunshots echoing in the background

After finally getting to Tumbleweed again I FINALLY buy my apples and carrots for my horse and as I’m unhitching my horse I see the one star and dot coming back up and I check rq if those are the guys I accidentally helped in a shootout and it is! They won! Hurray!! And I’m giving my horse some pats when they pass me directly and the star, the one I helped, gives me a(checks notes) hat flick I assume of thanks.

Anyways happy ending

[familyofpaladins]

For the ask game, 2 and 10 right back at ya ;)

~noodletoodledoodles

hi @noodletoodledoodles !!! Thanks for the ask! :D

I answered 2 in this ask :)

10. Who’s your favorite turtle? What's your favorite version of them?

I say tough question because I love them all in their own ways, but really it always comes back to Leo. Theres just something about how he's leader and looking out for his brothers and being serious but also has his little moments of being carefree. He's also just very very whumpable, and that increases the favorite value lol. 03 Leo I think is at the top of my favorite list, because he's decently serious but has his silly moments. In season four he faces his demons of feeling like he's not doing enough to protect his family, and eventually realizes he did the best he could, and is lighter after that. He may butt heads with his brothers occasionally but he's never outright mean or rude. And he gets whumped. A lot.

Rise Leo is also so good because he gets to be silly!!! He is free from the leader role for a while and gets to be a silly quippy teenager! But you can see the leader/strategist in him throughout the series and that's very cool.

Raph is a close second fav, because I love the "tough guy with a softy and squishy heart of gold" trope. He may be tough and act annoyed by his brothers a lot but he loves them so much and is so protective of them. I mention in my answer to question 2 that when I was little I actually hated [03]Raph because I thought he was too mean. But as an adult I can see his good traits and past his tough guy act (it also helps to see more than just random episodes that I happened to catch on tv lol). I love 03 Raph (and 12 raph) for all the traits previously mentioned. But a special shootout to Rise Raph for being the friendly giant that made me learn to love a Raph.