#Firearms Safety Training Course

[ptpgunmedia]

Ocean City's Unique Perspective on Firearms Safety: Lessons from Coastal Living

Ocean City, nestled along the picturesque coastlines, offers a unique perspective on firearms safety that is influenced by its coastal living environment. In this article, we delve into the innovative approach taken by Ocean City towards promoting responsible firearms handling and safety measures. With the active involvement of the PTPGUN organization, this coastal community has been at the forefront of advocating for proper firearm education and engagement initiatives. Through collaborative efforts, Ocean City has set a precedent for implementing best practices in firearms safety, addressing challenges, and paving the way for future sustainability in ensuring safe firearm handling for its residents and visitors alike.

Introduction to Ocean City's Approach to Firearms Safety

In a town where the ocean breeze mingles with the sounds of seagulls, Ocean City has developed a unique perspective on firearms safety. As coastal living presents its own set of challenges and considerations, the community's approach to gun safety offers valuable insights for enthusiasts and observers alike.

Understanding the Unique Perspective of Ocean City

Ocean City's blend of vibrant tourism and tight-knit community dynamics shapes its distinct viewpoint on firearms safety. With a backdrop of sandy beaches and rolling waves, the town embodies a balance between leisure and vigilance when it comes to responsible gun ownership.

Overview of Firearms Safety in Coastal Communities

Coastal communities like Ocean City face a distinctive set of circumstances that influence how firearms safety is approached. Factors such as weather conditions, outdoor recreation norms, and the influx of seasonal visitors all play a role in shaping the local attitudes towards gun safety.

Coastal Living and Its Influence on Gun Safety

Living by the coast comes with its own set of considerations when it comes to handling firearms. The proximity to water, diverse wildlife, and outdoor activities all contribute to a unique perspective on gun safety practices in coastal communities.

Impact of Coastal Environment on Firearms Handling

The coastal environment, with its salt-laden air and variable weather conditions, requires gun owners to adopt specific maintenance practices to ensure the longevity and functionality of their firearms. Understanding these environmental impacts is crucial for safe and responsible gun ownership.

Lessons Learned from Coastal Living for Firearm Safety

From navigating sandy beaches to addressing rust prevention, coastal living imparts valuable lessons on firearm safety. By incorporating these insights into everyday practices, gun owners can enhance their safety measures and respect for firearms in coastal settings.

The Role of PTPGUN in Promoting Firearm Safety

PTPGUN plays a pivotal role in promoting firearm safety within Ocean City and beyond. With a mission dedicated to education, advocacy, and community engagement, PTPGUN's efforts have significantly contributed to fostering a culture of responsible gun ownership.

Introduction to PTPGUN and its Mission

PTPGUN stands at the forefront of promoting firearm safety through education, training, and awareness initiatives. By advocating for responsible gun practices and providing resources for gun owners, PTPGUN aims to create a safer environment for all members of the community.

PTPGUN's Contributions to Firearm Safety in Ocean City

Through workshops, outreach programs, and collaborative efforts with local authorities, PTPGUN has been instrumental in enhancing firearm safety practices in Ocean City. By working closely with the community, PTPGUN continues to make a positive impact on gun safety awareness and education.

Community Engagement and Education Initiatives

In Ocean City, community engagement and education are key components of promoting firearm safety awareness. Through outreach programs, workshops, and training sessions, residents have the opportunity to enhance their knowledge and skills regarding responsible gun ownership.

Outreach Programs for Firearms Safety Awareness

Community outreach programs provide a platform for residents to learn about the importance of firearm safety, engage in discussions, and access resources for safe gun practices. By reaching out to diverse audiences, these initiatives play a vital role in promoting a culture of responsible gun ownership.

Educational Workshops and Training Sessions

Educational workshops and training sessions offer hands-on experiences and practical guidance for individuals looking to improve their understanding of firearms safety. From basic handling techniques to advanced safety protocols, these sessions empower participants to become informed and responsible gun owners.

Implementing Best Practices in Firearms Handling

Key Principles of Safe Firearm Handling

When it comes to handling firearms, Ocean City's approach emphasizes key principles like always treating every gun as if it's loaded, keeping your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot, and ensuring your muzzle is pointed in a safe direction at all times.

Guidelines for Proper Storage and Maintenance

Ocean City residents understand the importance of proper firearm storage and maintenance. This includes storing guns in locked cabinets or safes, using trigger locks, and regularly cleaning and inspecting firearms to ensure they function safely and reliably.

Collaborations and Partnerships for Enhanced Safety Measures

Partnerships with Local Law Enforcement Agencies

Ocean City's proactive approach to firearm safety includes working closely with local law enforcement agencies to coordinate training programs, organize community events, and promote responsible gun ownership within the community.

Collaborative Efforts with Firearm Safety Organizations

By partnering with firearm safety organizations like PTPGUN, Ocean City is able to access resources, expertise, and best practices to further enhance their initiatives in promoting safe firearm handling and storage practices.

Addressing Challenges and Overcoming Barriers

Common Challenges in Promoting Firearm Safety

One of the challenges Ocean City faces in promoting firearm safety is addressing misconceptions and stereotypes surrounding gun ownership. By fostering open dialogue and providing education, they aim to overcome these barriers and promote a culture of safety.

Strategies for Overcoming Barriers to Firearms Safety

To overcome barriers to firearm safety, Ocean City focuses on education, community engagement, and providing accessible resources for gun owners. By empowering individuals with knowledge and support, they aim to create a safer environment for all residents.

Future Directions and Sustainability Efforts

Ongoing Initiatives for Long-Term Firearm Safety Goals

Ocean City is committed to continuing their efforts towards long-term firearm safety goals by implementing ongoing initiatives such as regular training sessions, community outreach programs, and awareness campaigns to ensure a sustained impact on firearm safety.

Sustainability Practices for Continued Impact on Firearms Safety

To sustain their impact on firearm safety, Ocean City focuses on implementing sustainable practices such as regular evaluations of their programs, adapting to evolving gun safety standards, and actively seeking feedback from the community to continuously improve their initiatives.

In conclusion, Ocean City's distinctive viewpoint on firearms safety, coupled with the dedicated efforts of organizations like PTPGUN, serves as a valuable model for communities seeking to enhance firearm education and safety measures. By embracing the lessons from coastal living and fostering community engagement, Ocean City has demonstrated a proactive approach towards promoting responsible firearms handling. As we look towards the future, the continued partnerships, collaborative initiatives, and commitment to sustainability will be essential in maintaining a safe environment for all individuals involved in firearm activities within this coastal community. Original Source: https://ptpgunmedia.blogspot.com/2024/03/ocean-citys-unique-perspective-on.html

[hittingtargets]

The Need for Firearms Safety Training Course for Beginners

Are you planning to sign up for a firearms safety training course? Make sure you make no mistake on your first training day with these essential fire safety tips. Open this now!

[historyofguns]

The article "First-Time Handgun Owner’s Guide" by Paul Carlson on The Armory Life website provides comprehensive information for new firearms owners. It addresses the complexities and responsibilities associated with owning a modern semi-automatic handgun, such as the Springfield Hellcat, emphasizing that these guns are actually simple, reliable, and easy to use. Carlson discusses the importance of understanding firearm terminology and proper handling, comparing gun vocabulary to knowing basic tool terminology to facilitate better communication and learning. The article includes a video and encourages new gun owners to engage with the online community at The Armory Life Forum for further discussion and advice.

[southatlantafirearms]

In the field of firearm safety and training, the ability to successfully integrate theoretical knowledge into practical abilities is essential. South Atlantic Firearms Training (SAFT) stands out by using new training methodologies that not only teach handgun safety but also prepare trainees for real-world events. SAFT improves learning and retention by using interactive simulations, live-fire drills, and scenario-based exercises, ensuring that gun owners are confident and competent in dealing with a variety of situations. It is one of the best Georgia firearms training academy. 

[anagram-for-mongo]

I hate classes where there’s no interactive content, stop making me use all 40 pages of this subject in my notebook and let me DO THINGS

[howdoesone]

How does one acquire the necessary licenses and permits to own antique firearms and weapons?

Acquiring the necessary licenses and permits to own antique firearms and weapons is an essential step to ensure compliance with legal regulations and enjoy the privileges of ownership. Whether you are a collector, enthusiast, or individual interested in owning these historical artifacts, this guide will provide you with valuable insights and steps to navigate the process of obtaining the required…

[caraphernellie]

BORN TO DIE. farm!ellie + gunplay. EIGHTEEN PLUS INTERACTIONS ONLY.

DISCLAIMER: this is a work of fiction, please do not use this as an example for real life circumstances. don't do this shit irl omg. there's alternatives to using real guns DON'T BE STUPID. the gun in this drabble is unloaded, safety on, and both parties consent. read at your own risk. other content warnings include orgasm denial/edging, dacryphilia.

the farm provides the peace and solace that ellie needed after everything she'd been through. nothing besides warm afternoon sunlight and steady breezes, a quiet life left to lead with her lover.

she's sat at the dining table, guns laid out for her to clean and maintain after a day full of hunting. she's got to feed you, and of course herself – not that she can stomach much food these days, but hunting is something she can busy herself with and get herself some alone time outside.

her calloused hands work meticulously and with ease, handling the heavy machinery like second nature. placing her rifle down and picking up a pistol, ellie examines it, spotting a small scratch in the metal and letting her brows crease. she's unaware how infatuated you've become overtime with her comfortability over firearms, how her hands seem to move on autopilot and unload the pistol with minimal effort or time taken. she remains wordless, in her own world as she grabs a rag to begin cleaning it. 

ellie makes a double take when she finally looks around, spotting your eyes trained on her and lower lip drawn between your teeth. she flits her gaze from you, to the gun in her hands, and back to you, head tilting ever so slowly to the side. "come here."

you oblige, and once you're stood by her side, ellie ushers you to sit on her thigh. and she continues as if you aren't there now, cleaning down the barrel and focusing extra on areas slightly rusted, then making sure the safety lock is flicked on. she bounces her knee at an even pace, the firm muscle of her thigh tensing and pressing against your core. every part of it is intentional, working you up until she can hear hitching breaths and feel your soaked panties over her jeans.

as you begin to move in a way you're clearly trying to be subtle about, needily grinding your cunt into her thigh, you feel cold metal press against your hot temple and ellie's arm snake around your waist, holding you still. a chill runs down your spine, and ellie murmurs a gentle reassurance. "i got you, it's safe."

in all honesty, it was just a silly experiment for ellie, to stop you from cumming prematurely; she never expected to arouse you further by holding a gun to your head. she lets go of your waist, and you continue to ride her thigh, rolling your hips against her and chasing that high you were so close to previously– but every time she can feel you getting close, she stops you again. she presses her finger against the trigger just for it to make a menacing click, and after five times being denied, you're in tears. she's not even trying to be so cruel, rather fascinated by your effort and trust in her.

"what's wrong, babe? why can't you cum?" ellie asks, voice dripping in faux sympathy as she forces your body still one more time.

you won't even answer her, blubbering through tears about how bad you need it, how she's being so mean by not letting you cum, begging her to finally give you what you want.

and she ignores the accusations of being mean, instead resting the gun back on the table and wiping a tear off your cheek. "awh, maybe you just need to be filled? how's my rifle sound?"

@/ellliewilliamsgf on pinterest for the photomode!!

[milf-murdock]

Safety First

(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader 

Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it. Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌  A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.

Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.

Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.

“Hey—“ the deep  familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs. 

“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action. 

The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond. 

“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“

“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.” 

You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.” 

“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background. 

__________________

Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7. 

His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again. 

“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response. 

Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained. 

He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car. 

Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you. 

The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more. 

“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit. 

“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.” 

He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words. 

“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.” 

You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling. 

“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks. 

“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“ 

Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.” 

“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?” 

“Understood.” You sniffle once more. 

“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand. 

__________________

You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily. 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”

“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.” 

“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame. 

“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.” 

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears. 

As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.  

You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was. 

Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.

But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace. 

Simon was going to teach you to shoot. 

______________

That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you. 

“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast. 

“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?” 

“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast. 

“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug. 

__________________

You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life. 

Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could. 

With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range. 

The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this. 

As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help. 

“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity. 

“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.” 

“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.” 

“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal. 

Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms. 

Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you. 

“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy. 

You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were. 

“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.” 

“But how did you—? Should I even—?”

“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.” 

You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.” 

“Good. Then let’s get after it.” 

He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears. 

“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses. 

Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.” 

“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.” 

Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies. 

“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.” 

His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?” 

You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—

“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.” 

You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”

“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.”  You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier? 

“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward. 

It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside. 

“Alright, she’s loaded now.” 

“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”

“Now you point and shoot.” 

“At what?”

“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley. 

“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest. 

Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track. 

“Better?” 

“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim. 

With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger. 

The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…

You’ve miss the target completely. 

 “S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles. 

“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.” 

You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level. 

“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”

“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly. 

“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.” 

You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot. 

“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.” 

You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim. 

A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger. 

This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.  

“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look. 

Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down. 

“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place. 

You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!” 

You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.” 

And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless. 

“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded. 

“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around. 

“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range. 

You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.

“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response. 

You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful. 

Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon. 

Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there. 

Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.  

“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon. 

The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop. 

“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs. 

Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop. 

You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height. 

“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need. 

His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs. 

He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.” 

His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core. 

Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him. 

Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure. 

His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take. 

His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low. 

“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?” 

You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him. 

“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm. 

“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan. 

“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock. 

You nod fervently. 

“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside. 

You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained. 

“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.” 

You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss. 

“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.” 

Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.” 

His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life. 

“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure. 

“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“

“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. 

“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out. 

“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple. 

You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours. 

You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive. 

“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.” 

You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.” 

Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. 

“Something like that, love.”

[mcntsee]

— ★ aim

↳ Summary: Spencer’s nerves are on edge as he anticipates his upcoming firearms qualification exam, yet he remains staunchly resistant to seeking assistance from the one individual who likely holds the key to his success.

↳ Warnings: Self-doubt, anxiety, like one cuss word, firearms, shooting, not proof read and i think that’s it?

↳ Note: This is a reader insert, but, as requested, they call reader “zero” (and “y/n” once.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You could always ask her.”

His eyes trailed Rossi’s hand movement. With a precision akin to a hawk’s hunt, his gaze darted from one point to another until it alighted upon the focal point of Rossi’s gesture: her, standing ethereal and captivating amidst the ordinary backdrop of the office.

“Absolutely not.”

“Kid—“

“—No, Rossi. I’m not asking her to train me as if I were a child.”

With a sigh, Rossi’s hand fell from its previous position, surrender evident in the way both hands rose shortly after in the universal gesture of concession. Under his breath, he muttered something that seemed to insinuate Spencer's immaturity and something else about a crush.

As Rossi turned to leave, Spencer’s gaze instinctively gravitated back to her form, lingering just a beat longer than intended. He seemed ensnared in a trance, only snapping out of it when she turned, locking eyes with him. Her hand lifted in a gentle wave, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Flushed with embarrassment at being caught, his cheeks tinted crimson as he too lifted his hand in a shy wave, mirroring her gesture with a smile of his own.

Days had slipped by since his latest, unsuccessful venture at the shooting range. The higher-ups had been incessantly pressing him to pass the test, but despite their relentless prodding, his aim simply refused to cooperate.

He had spent weeks down at the shooting range, seeking assistance from anyone willing to help him hone his shooting skills. However, conspicuously absent from the list of helpers was her because, of course, Spencer refused to ask.

Lost in his own thoughts, his head snapped up at the sound of heels clicking against the ground, drawing nearer in his direction. “Brainiac!”

“Zero.”

"What's troubling that pretty little head of yours?" she inquired, her voice laced with curiosity as she finally reached him.

He quickly shook his head, feigning ignorance, and assured her that he had no idea what she was talking about. She stood there, her eyebrow raised in a questioning look, before releasing a sigh and uncrossing her arms. “Well—“

She swiftly turned, her hands reaching behind to grip the edge of his desk as she lowered herself onto its edge, mindful not to disturb any of his files. With a graceful movement, she crossed one leg over the other, settling comfortably into her impromptu perch. “Morgan and I are planning to hit the shooting range that’s like forty minutes away. Would you be interested in joining us?”

“Why the sudden trip to the shooting range?”

“Morgan’s been boasting about his shooting skills for too long. I thought I’d humble him a bit, but having an impartial referee there wouldn’t hurt.”

Of course Morgan is. With a sigh, he quickly scanned his desk, searching in vain for an excuse to decline her invitation. “Come on, genius. Don’t you want to witness Derek getting humbled?” she teased, a playful glint in her eye.

And that’s precisely how all three of them wound up at the shooting range, forty minutes away from the safety of his desk back at work.

"Boom!" Derek exclaimed, prompting an eye-roll from her– a gesture that seemed to have become a routine in the past hour.

“Beat that.”

“You know I will, Derek.”

Derek extended his arm in a challenging gesture, a silent “go ahead” for her. She carefully placed her sniper rifle on the ground before assuming a prone position, her left side facing the target. She gripped the rifle with her left hand on the grip, supporting its weight. “All talk and no show, zero?”

She then adjusted the stock against her left shoulder, while her eye was brought close to the scope for a clear view. Simultaneously, she positioned her right hand on the fore end for additional support.

With her cheek firmly against the stock, she started taking controlled breaths, aligning the scope.

“You take too long.”

"Shut it, Morgan," Spencer’s voice sliced through the air from behind them, a reminder of his reluctant presence. Though he harbored some regret for being there at all, he also recognized the potential to glean valuable insights from this impromptu activity their coworkers had decided to partake in.

A collective silence fell as they observed her, noting the deliberate inhalation and gradual exhale. In the stillness, she squeezed the trigger smoothly with her left index finger, the controlled precision of the motion echoing through the shooting range.

“Smashed it, didn’t I, Morgan?”

Before Derek could respond, the buzz of their phones reverberated in their pockets. Spencer, being the only one without anything in his hands, swiftly retrieved his phone to check the notification.

"We have to go," he declared, a pleased yet discreet smile adorning his face, evident since the moment her shot hit the target. "New case in Richmond," he announced, quickly displaying the screen of his phone to them before returning it to his pocket.

Spencer watched as Derek’s hand extended downward to help her up, but just as she reached for it, Derek swiftly withdrew his hand, laughing as he started to walk away.

With a shake of his head, Spencer swiftly extended his hand to help her up from the prone position on the ground where she had been lying to take the shot. Unlike Derek, he actually helped her up. “He is such a sore loser,” she began, dusting herself off. “That he is,” Spencer agreed, chuckling at her remark. With a smile, they joined Derek as he made his way to the car.

Once they reached the SUV, they quickly stowed their equipment in the trunk, with Derek and Spencer settling into the front seats while she climbed into the back, flopping down with an audible sigh of exhaustion. “At least it’s not a long drive.”

They spent most of the drive engaged in lively discussion about the case, brainstorming various motives for the murders and playfully wagering on the most absurd profiles they could concoct with the limited information available.

As they settled into a lull, the car filled with the melody of music and the occasional navigation directive to Morgan. Suddenly, she sat up, her annoyance evident as she glanced at her phone, emitting a frustrated huff that didn't escape Spencer's notice through the rearview mirror. “What is it?”

He waited in silence as she tapped away on her phone, observing as she eventually locked it and tossed it onto the seat beside her. "I have to take the firearms qualification exam," she announced, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m the best sniper the BAU has. They shouldn’t need to keep testing me every year.”

“Well, it does make sense. The exam is essential for maintaining proficiency, ensuring safety, compliance with standards, adapting to changes in technology and tactics, and mitigating legal liabilities.”

With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat, letting out a drawn-out“I know.” and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle at her melodramatic response. “When are you guys taking yours?”

“Oh, I already did, sweetheart.”

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I went with Hotch.”

Spencer remained silent, anxiety tightening its grip on him as the weight of the impending exam settled on him. “Spence?”

Her voice jolted him back to the present, and Spencer swiveled his upper body to meet her gaze. "I'm scheduled for next Wednesday.” And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, she dropped the bombshell that she would schedule hers for the same day.

“That way we can take it together!”

His only response was a tight-lipped smile and quick nod before he turned back around to face the road. Anxiety crepping back in, but now, he not only had to worry about passing the exam but also about not embarrassing himself in front of her.

The car lingered in silence for a while longer following their conversation. Usually, Spencer enjoyed the peace and quiet, but now it felt suffocating, as the only sound permeating the air was the cacophony of insecure voices echoing in his mind.

“Y/n?”

“Spencer.”

“Why Zero?”

Despite knowing the answer, Spencer couldn't bear the silence any longer. He posed a seemingly trivial question, hoping it would prompt her to continue talking for the remainder of the drive and drown out the incessant voices in his head.

“It was my call sign back in the military.”

Well, that wasn't the type of answer he was hoping for. He had anticipated a more elaborate narrative, maybe a glimpse into her military days—something that would keep her talking for longer. Instead, all he got was a generic response. Great.

“I know, but why “zero”?”

“Guess.”

"Well," he began, contemplating why ‘Zero’ might have become her call sign, “I know the term “zero” originated from the idea that a sniper’s goal is to achieve “zero error” when taking a shot, meaning they aim to hit the target precisely.”

His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, meeting her eyes that were already fixed on him, nodding along encouragingly for him to continue. "Uhm, 'zero' could also signify a sniper's ability to effectively neutralize threats, reducing them to 'zero' or nothing," he added, his voice gaining confidence as he elaborated on his observation.

“Go on.”

“Snipers often operate clandestinely behind enemy lines, gathering intelligence and surveilling enemy movements,” he continued, noting the little chuckle that escaped her lips, a bright smile illuminating her face as she gestured with her hands in encouragement for him to continue. “In that context, ‘Zero’ could signify the ability to remain undetected or ‘zeroed’ in on the targets without being noticed.”

As he finished, she leaned forward, her hands gently patting his shoulders. "Those were really good guesses," she praised, a genuine smile gracing her lips. “but, no.”

Now he was genuinely curious. The voices in his head having long since quieted, as his intrigue grew with each passing second. “Then why?”

“Do you know what “zeroing in” means for snipers?”

His gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer before he lowered it to think about the term. “Yes,” he began, “it’s the process of adjusting the scope to ensure that the bullet’s point of impact aligns precisely with the crosshairs or reticle at a given distance.”

“Yup.”

“Is that it then?”

As he allowed his gaze to return to hers, he couldn’t help but notice the faint blush that now colored her cheeks. “Kind of,” she replied softly.

His eyebrow rose in question, his expression expectant as he silently urged her to elaborate on what she meant by that statement.

"When I first joined the military, I struggled with my aim and had a tough time adjusting my scope properly," she explained, her voice quieter than usual, the blush on her cheeks now more prominent than before she started speaking. "My friends started calling me 'Zero' as a playful way to tease me about it."

Before Spencer had a chance to respond, Morgan voiced the same question that had formed on his mind. “You had bad aim?”

“Terrible.”

Morgan and her continued their conversation, their voices fading into the background as Spencer's attention turned inward. The voices in his head, once a source of anxiety, now offered reassurance. Perhaps reaching out to her for assistance before his exam might not be as absurd as he had initially imagined.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

The case had been straightforward—a series of disappearances in a small town stemming from a feud between two families. Innocent civilians becoming collateral damage in a game of power and revenge.

It had taken the team longer than expected but not long enough for Spencer to have to reschedule his test. He had two days to somehow improve his aim and despite his efforts, he still struggled to grasp what he was doing wrong.

“Brainiac!”

His head, which had been previously buried against his desk in frustration, snapped up as her voice reached his ears.

“Are you alright?”

He swiftly smoothed down his hair, which he had been tugging at in desperation, before turning around to face the direction from which the voice had come, meeting her gaze head-on. “Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, her eyes scanning his features as if trying to decipher his thoughts before ultimately relenting. “Want to come down to the shooting range with me?” she asked, extending the invitation with a faint smile.

“Why?”

“I would like to practice before the test.”

Might as well, he thought. With a nod, he swiftly gathered his belongings, stowing them away in his satchel before trailing after her as she made her way to the elevator.

Once there, she unlocked the door, retrieving two sets of earmuffs and handing one to him before heading towards one of the multiple shooting stalls.

He watched as she reached for the gun securely nestled in the holster on her hip. With deliberate movements, she brought it in front of her, assuming a steady stance with her feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and weight evenly distributed between both feet.

As her upper body gradually relaxed, her grip tightened on the gun. With precision, she aimed at the paper target, taking a couple of steady breaths before firing. Each shot rang out, hitting the target with unerring accuracy.

After firing her last shot, she swiftly engaged the safety on the firearm and ejected the empty magazine from the gun. She deftly retrieved a fresh magazine from the shelf behind them and smoothly inserted it into the magazine well, the satisfying click signaling its secure placement as she turned around to face him. “Your turn.”

He shook his head in denial, but before he could voice his objections, she placed the gun in his hand and gently nudged him forward, stepping back to give him space.

He felt his shoulders drop in defeat as he slowly reached up to unhook the strap of his satchel from across his body, pulling it over his head with a heavy sigh before letting the bag drop to the ground.

He shook his shoulders and arms, attempting to release the tension that had built up within them as he made his way towards the stall. Once there, he brought the gun up in front of him, closing one eye as he took careful aim at the target.

After a couple of deep breaths, he steadied himself, his index finger applying pressure to the trigger. His eyes closed for a brief moment as the shot rang out, causing his arms to instinctively rise slightly from the recoil of the bullet being fired.

As he lowered the gun, his eyes quickly sought out the hole he had created on the target, knowing all too well that, as usual, it was the only hole that had not landed inside the outline of the man.

With a frustrated groan, he took the earmuffs off and re-engaged the safety before turning towards her, extending the gun for her to take. "I'm going to fail," he admitted with a heavy sigh, his frustration evident in his tone.

Her eyes followed his movements as her hand came up to remove her own earmuffs. With a gentle smile, she reached out and pushed his extended hand back towards him. “You won’t,” she assured him.

Hearing her words only fueled his frustration, igniting a spark of anger within him. “I am. I keep missing the target.” he retorted, his tone laced with frustration. She shook her head and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing his body to turn back around to face the target.

“Get into position again.”

He attempted to move away from her, but her grip tightened on his shoulders, anchoring him in place. Her hand gently lifted his chin, guiding his gaze to meet hers. In her eyes, he saw a pleading expression, coupled with an encouraging nod, urging him not to give up. “Don’t shoot, just get back into position.”

Reluctantly, he brought the gun back up in front of him as soon as she released his face and waited for further instruction.

Slowly, she shifted from her previous position after instructing him to hold his stance. Moving behind him, she asked for permission to touch him and adjust his posture. With a nod of assent from him, he felt her hands grasp his hips, gently guiding the right side forward. “Your hips should be parallel to each other,” she explained, her voice calm and reassuring, “not twisted or turned to one side.”

Then, he felt her foot tap his. "For your feet," she began as she gently nudged his left foot with hers, "you want to stand with them about shoulder-width apart." Once she positioned his left foot, she tapped his other foot, silently prompting him to adjust it. "This width provides a stable base for shooting."

After he correctly positioned his right foot, she moved to a spot where he could see her without having to adjust his stance. "How's your balance?" she inquired, and he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. "Not very good.”

With a nod, she returned to her position behind him. "Try placing more weight on your heels rather than the balls of your feet," she advised. He followed her instruction, adjusting slightly until he felt stable enough in his stance.

After a moment of silence, he felt her cold hand press against the sides of his neck, gently massaging the tension away. "You want your neck to be relaxed and comfortable," she explained softly, her touch soothing, "not strained or tense." Her thumbs applied a bit more pressure to a tense spot just below his skull. "Keep it in a natural position, not too stiff or leaning forward too much."

His eyes closed at the sensation, feeling his neck gradually relax under her skilled touch. "This way, you can move head freely to aim at the target," she explained, her hands ceasing their movement and slowly trailing down to his shoulders, "without any discomfort or restriction."

Her hand gently tightened on his shoulders before releasing, adjusting them slightly so they were aligned straight ahead towards where he was aiming. "You want them to be squared with the target.”

He felt her move to his side, her hands leaving his shoulders behind as they came up to grasp his arm. "Don't completely lock out your arms," she instructed gently. Without moving his body, he shifted his gaze to find her figure, scanning her face before lowering his eyes to where her hands were adjusting his arms. "Keep a slight bend in the elbows to absorb recoil and maintain control over the firearm."

His eyes returned to her face, watching intently as she looked him up and down, analyzing his new stance with a thoughtful expression.

After a couple of seconds, her eyes found his, and she smiled, giving him a reassuring nod. Stepping forward, she continued, "Your grip on the gun should be firm but not overly tight." She then picked up the earmuffs that rested on his shoulders and placed them over his ears before doing the same with hers.

With one last reassuring smile, she stepped back behind him, close enough for him to hear her but far enough to not disturb him, allowing him to focus on his shooting.

“Safety.” His thumb moved sideways on the gun, sliding the safety lever into the “off” position with a satisfying click.

“Clear your mind. Breath.” He mimicked the same breathing technique he had seen her do countless times before. With each inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth, he felt the tension slowly dissipate, clearing his mind of distractions until he finally felt ready.

“Lock in on the target.” His eyes fixated on the target, his gaze penetrating through the sights of the firearm as he visualized the desired point of impact, mentally mapping the trajectory of the shot. “And remember to follow through, Spence.”

With those last words, she stepped back, giving him more room as his index finger rested lightly on the trigger. With one last exhale, he applied pressure to the trigger, the shot ringing out once more as he focused on his aim and followed through with precision.

He remained in position for a moment longer, his focus unwavering as he resisted the urge to shift his gaze to find where the bullet hit. Instead, he concentrated on the target, determined not to let his attention waver. It was only when he heard cheers from behind him that he allowed himself to relax slightly as he engaged the safety.

“You did it, Spencer!” Before he could fully turn around, he felt arms engulf him in a tight hug. Returning the embrace, he craned his neck to look at the target, finding the new bullet hole dead center in the paper man’s forehead.

Happiness filled his chest, bubbling up until a giddy laugh escaped his lips. Feeling proud of himself, he tightened his arms around her, holding the hug for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go, a sense of contentment washing over him.

“That was so good!”

“Thank you.”

She started to shake her head, her lips parting as if to speak, but before she could utter a word, his hand came up to gently cup her cheek, stilling her head. "I mean it.“ he said, his eyes meeting hers with gratitude, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course.“ Her hand came up to hold his that was still resting on her cheek,“I would’ve helped sooner but you never asked.” She smiled, but then her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why didn't you want me to help you?"

His shoulders dropped slightly, his hand still pressed against her cheek. “I-” he began, but cut himself off, his own eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdy.”

“A little birdy?”

“Couple little birdies.”

With a groan, he lowered his head, attempting to hide the blush that had begun to spread across his cheeks. However, when he heard her laughter, his head snapped back up to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted backward slightly, her laughter infectious and filling the air with warmth.

A smile grew on his lips as he continued to gaze at her, her happiness radiating through him and warming his heart. “I should thank them.”

Soon her laughter quieted down, and her eyes met his. They stayed in that position for a while, enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence before he spoke again. “How did you do that?”

At that, her brows furrowed once more. "Do what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by his cryptic statement.

"That," he said, twisting his body to gesture towards the target behind him, "I've been coming down here every week for what feels like an eternity." His hand slowly lowered as his gaze returned to hers, his expression earnest. "Everyone has tried to help me improve, but none of them succeeded."

“You don’t have bad aim, Spencer.”

He snorted, his playful smile faltering into a look of confusion as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. “No?”

“No.”

“Then… What?”

“Your stance.”

His confusion deepened even further, his hand leaving her cheek as she dropped hers. No one else on the team had mentioned anything about his stance before. They had all focused on giving suggestions about his aim, but never mentioning his stance.

"Try again," she urged gently, pointing back at the gun that had been discarded on the stall with her now free hand. "Just remember what I told you," she added, her tone encouraging and supportive.

He felt the nerves creeping back into his body as he picked up the gun, his shoulders and neck tensing for a moment before he remembered her instructions. Taking a deep breath, he focused on relaxing his muscles and recalling the guidance she had given him.

He slowly positioned his body, meticulous in following every single step she had given him. With each movement, he focused on maintaining the correct stance and grip, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. Soon, he found himself taking deep breaths, clearing his head and finding his target with renewed clarity before pressing the trigger multiple times.

When the gun clicked to signal the magazine was empty, he engaged the safety and lower the gun. As he took his earmuffs off, he heard her voice from behind him, “Not bad aim at all.”

He had been too scared to look at the target at first, afraid that his first successful shot had been a one-time thing. However, after hearing her words, he forced himself to look up, his eyes quickly finding the much bigger hole the bullets had made on the paper after repeatedly hitting the same spot.

A smile crept onto his face again as he turned towards her excitedly, meeting her proud smile with one of his own. “I think you’re going to pass.”

With a laugh, he approached her again, opening his arms as she walked right into his embrace, giving him a quick reassuring squeeze before backing up.

As he looked at her, his brain started rushing with thoughts, and before he could back out, he forced the words he’d been meaning to ask for a while to come out of his lips, his heart pounding with anticipation. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“Are you paying?”

“Yes.”

With a laugh, she mumbled a quick “yes” before taking his arm and pulling him out of the shooting range. The warmth of her touch and the excitement in her voice filling him with joy, as he eagerly let her lead the way.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

His steps quickened as he walked from the elevator to the office, eager to share his exam results with her. The anticipation bubbled inside him, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction once he told her the news.

As soon as he walked in, a loud “pop” came from somewhere on his right, and confetti rained down on him, sticking to his hair and clothes. A chorus of voices yelled “congratulations!” as he looked around in surprise, confusion written all over his face, while multiple excited claps reached his ears. The unexpected celebration left him momentarily stunned, but as he took in the scene, a wide grin spread across his face, before he was pulled into a tight hug.

After some more hugs and congratulations, he looked around, a puzzled expression on his face. “What—” he began, but then paused, noticing the smiles on his colleagues’ faces. “Why are you guys so positive I passed? I haven’t told anyone my results.”

“We don’t know the results but miss zero over there was very insistan that you were going to pass.”

As Morgan pointed in her direction, his eyes followed, finding her standing there with a nervous smile on her face. Before he could respond, she awkwardly asked, “Well, did you?”

He quickly glanced down at the floor, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his head nervously as he searched for the right words. “Well…” he began slowly, the weight of the silence in the office pressing down on him. His colleagues waited expectantly to hear his result, their earlier celebration now tinged with uncertainty.

“Oh shit, Spencer I’m so—“

Before she could finish her sentence, he threw his arms up in the air, his face breaking into a wide grin. With excitement bubbling in his voice, he announced, “I passed!” The tension in the room instantly lifted, replaced by cheers and applause as his colleagues erupted in celebration once again.

He suddenly felt a sting on his arm, and as he looked over to where the hit came from, he found her looking at him angrily. “You asshole,” she exclaimed, her tone half-joking and half-serious, “I thought you were going to say that you failed. I felt so bad.” Her words were laced with both relief and frustration, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction.

With a warm smile, he extended his arms towards her and pulled her into a tight hug, his mouth close to her ear as he whispered, “Thank you.”

[peregrine21]

Firearm Training - Abby Sciuto x Gibbs'!Daughter Reader

Pairing: Abby Sciuto x Gibbs'!Daughter Reader

Includes: fluff, slight hurt/angst?, cute moments with Abby, Abby comforting you, soft Gibbs moment because he’s your dad

Warnings: guns, shooting guns (at paper targets) 

Word Count: 2395 (I hope this finds people who also love Abby bc it’s so rare that I make it to 2000 words)

Brief Description: Your dad (Gibbs) wanted you to learn firearm safety and how to shoot a gun after several incidents of members of his team and/or their loved ones being targeted. You did fine for most of the lesson but did not handle live fire well. You had an emotional reaction to it but tried to push through until Abby came up to comfort you. Your dad took you and her to get milkshakes and cookies after to help you feel better.  

~~~

Firearm training. You were here because your dad wanted you to learn firearm safety and how to shoot a gun. You weren’t fond of loud noises; you preferred bows and crossbows to a gun anyday. However, after several incidents of the team being targeted and even your girlfriend Abby being violently stalked by an ex, you could understand your dad wanting you to learn how to use a gun. Most of the team was there, save for Ducky and Palmer. It was you, Abby, Tony, Tim, Ziva, Director Shepard, and your dad for the day on a private outdoor range with one of your dad’s friends as the instructor. You used one of your dad’s pistols for the day, with “GIBBS”written on the side of the magazine. The guns were all on tables for now as for the first section of the day, your group was reviewed on the build and mechanisms of standard pistols and magazines. 

Sitting in a circle with the team, you learned firearm safety: how to carry and handle a pistol safely; the build and parts of a basic pistol: how to take it apart, clean it, reassemble it; and its functions: how to load rounds into a magazine followed by how to load and unload a pistol without shooting it. You did a few rounds of safety checks and learned to never assume it’s unloaded. You practiced dry firing it and the instructor helped you with your hand positioning and grip; your stance was already solid from your previous years in martial arts. The dry fire shooting felt easy going and made you feel cool as you heard the click of shooting imaginary bullets at the target. Your dad and girlfriend both looked at you often with proud expressions on their faces as you quickly picked up each concept and were doing quite well in the course thus far. 

It was 4 hours into the course and was finally time for lunch. After lunch it would be time to start shooting live rounds at paper targets. However, for now you all just gathered round and decided to go to a local diner for lunch. It was a 20 minute drive there, and despite there being 8 of you, you were all seated right away as the town you were in was remote enough for the diner to be sparse on patrons. You sat next to Abby, Director Shepard next to her, and the instructor at the end of your side of the table. Ziva was in front of you then, Tony, McGee, and your dad filling the other 3 seats on that side of the table respectively. You and Abby ordered fried chicken and waffles to share, your dad and Shepard got steaks, Ziva, Tony, and McGee got sandwiches, and the instructor got a burger. You all took your time to enjoy the meal in each others’ company, you occasionally leaning your head on Abby’s shoulder or her stealing a bite of the waffle you were nibbling on. After much enjoyment and frivolity, you all ended up returning to the range an hour and a half later for the second half of the course. 

You got out of Abby’s car and walked over to the range, Shepard and the instructor already waiting on the course as they rode with your dad, and Tony was close on the way driving Ziva and McGee. You, Abby, your Dad, and director Shepard were already set up as you and Abby were borrowing a pair of your dad’s spare handguns that he stored in his car. Each of your respective guns and accessories were set on the tables, now accompanied by trays of live rounds. Tony’s, Ziva’s and McGee’s guns and gear were with them already, and they would have to set it up themselves upon arriving. The trio soon arrived, and as they got set up, the instructor had the rest of you start with putting on your noise canceling headphones and safety glasses. You glanced over at Abby, adored at how amazing she looked even in the firearm noise canceling headphones and glasses, the headphones set against her bow topped pigtails. The instructor then called for a safety check, followed by loading your magazines with a few live rounds. You were starting to feel a bit anxious as you’d never fired a live round before and the instructor warned you’d need a firm grip to counter the power of shooting live rounds. Before picking up the guns to load in the magazines, Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek— likely leaving a lipstick mark— and gave your hand a squeeze. “You’ll do fine,” she assured you with a gentle smile, clearly noticing your nerves start to kick in. 

You lined up with the rest of your group, the instructor on your left to help with your lesson, and Abby on your right for moral support. The instructor led for everyone to begin. Each in your group aimed their guns forward  and the instructor made minor adjustments to your grip before telling you to place your finger on the trigger and fire when ready. Before you could do so, you heard the first few shots fired from the team and flinched, your eyes closing at the same time. You opened them and took a deep breath trying to brush it off and fixed your own aim. The instructor had held up her hand to signal everyone else to stop firing so as to let you focus. You aimed at the target, took a deep breath, and slowly pulled the trigger as instructed. On the outside you appeared calm, but it felt like winding a jack in the box until *BANG!* You jumped and your hands were shoved up as your body absorbed the inertia of the shot. You looked at your instructor and pasted a smile on your face as she told you that you’d done well. Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes but you fought them, slightly confused as to why they were forming as you didn’t feel particularly sad. You flashed your plastered smile at Abbs, and she smiled in return as she took a few shots herself. You still flinched at every loud bang, but you pushed it all down. It was fine, you were fine. You asked the instructor for some advice on how to avoid losing your grip again, “Uhh, how do I keep my hands from shooting up when the gun fires and keep my grip?”. The instructor moved you into position and put her hands over yours on the gun, “you gotta make sure there is no space between your hands and hold your (dominant) hand firmly with your (non-dominant) hand”. You nodded, giving an ok in response before the instructor took a break to use the restroom. Abbs had finished a few rounds and put her gun on the table before coming up to you from the side. She laid a hand on your back and left a gentle kiss on the back side of your neck, “I’ll be over at the tent babe, you’re doing great!”, she informed you before returning cheerfully to the tent set up for breaks and spectating. It was now you, Ziva, McGee, Tony, and Director Shepard on the range. Your dad was watching from the tent along with Abbs who had just sat in one of the chairs to spectate with him. 

You prepared to take another shot and aimed at the target when Ziva came up beside you, “Fix your grip, there’s a gap between your hands again.” You did as she told you and thanked her before putting your finger on the trigger and slowly pulling it again. *BANG!* You jump again and silent tears form. You try to push through and keep your gaze forward so as to not let anyone onto the tears nearly falling down your face. You take a deep breath your heart racing, fixing your grip before pulling the trigger a third time, *BANG!* Silent tears start to fall down your cheeks, still baffling you as you don't feel sad or upset. A sniffle tips off Ziva who leans over to look at your face. She notices the tears and bluntly inquires, "What are the tears for? You're only shooting at a paper." You feel bad for not being able to stop it and feel pressured to suck it up, responding that you’re fine and start setting up for another shot. Abby heard from the chairs set up at the tent behind the shooting range and immediately made her way over, your father Gibbs behind her. Your calm steadiness starts to waver as your hands begin to shake. You breathe, put your finger on the trigger and take your 4th shot, losing your grip on the gun as your hands start to shake even more. You bring your (non-dominant hand) back onto the gun and aim at the target once more, hands and arms shaking profusely and tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision a bit.

Ziva is baffled at your emotional state, giving you a confused look as to why this is making you cry. You didn’t really understand why yourself, you just knew you couldn’t stop it or hold it back even though you didn’t necessarily feel upset. You hear another couple shots  from Tony and McGee and flinch again. By this time, Abby has finally made it to you and pressed her body against your back, wrapping one arm around you and grabbing the gun out of your hands with the other. You turn and melt into her, tears still falling down your face and she rubs her thumb against your back trying to calm you a bit, “Darling, it’s ok, you did so good. You don’t have to keep going.” Your dad makes it over and looks to Ziva who is still perplexed, “Stop staring and take the gun from Abby would ya?!” You bury yourself further into Abby as Ziva takes the gun out of Abby’s hand and places it on the table. Now with a free hand, Abby turns the volume all the way off on your headphones to reduce the loudness of the gunshots. You look up at her. “It helps a bit to have the volume all the way down” she tells you as she holds your face and wipes the tears away with her thumb. You bury your face into her neck and she wraps her other arm around you, holding you close and whispering affirmations and sweet nothings into your ear. Your dad puts a hand on your shoulder, standing behind Abby to talk to you, “Hey, you did good kid. You can stop if you want to. I just wanted you to know how to shoot if you ever need to. Now you can.” Abby walked you over to the tent and sat against a table, keeping you in her arms as you calmed down, rubbing circles on your back with her thumb. The rest of the team kept on shooting, your Dad taking your place in the lineup. Director Shepard came over and leaned against the table beside Abby, placing a hand on your back and reassuring you, “Hey, you’re ok.” She smiled, and you tried to smile back in return, still shaking a bit. “You can sit over here with us while they finish the course, no need to go back out.” After a few minutes, your breathing had finally evened out again, and Abby brought you around the table to the chairs while keeping you close to her. She sat down and guided you to sit in her lap as Director Shepard sat in the chair beside hers. You sat across her lap, legs over the side of the chair, and leaned into her. You kept your head on her shoulder as she put one around your waist and left the other one free. You still flinched at most of the shots the rest of the team took so Abby pulled out your book to distract you a bit. She held you in her arms and read your book with you until the shooting course was over. 

Afterwards, the team packed up all their gear and put it into their respective cars, your dad packing up for you and Abby as both of you had borrowed his spare pistols for the course. Tony, Ziva, and McGee left first, bidding the rest of you farewell. Your dad came up to you and Abby, both of you still consumed in the book, and pulled it down to get both your attention, “Hey, how about we go to the diner for milkshakes before heading home?” You liked the idea. Shepard joined the three of you; she had felt like a mother to you and Abby. The instructor bid you all a farewell as she had her own car to return home with and still had to pack up the course for the night. 

Around 20 minutes later, you had arrived at the diner and been seated in a 4 person booth, you and Abby on one side and Gibbs and Shepard on the other. Your dad ordered a chocolate malt shake, Shepard a Vanilla one, and Abby a Black and White (think chocolate and marshmallows). You still felt shaken so Abby, knowing your favorites, ordered your favorite milkshake as well as a double order of chocolate chip cookies for you and her to share. Once the waitress had gone to put in your orders, Abby pulled you close by the waist and the two of you sat nuzzled up together. You remained like this still when your orders arrived and as you enjoyed the sugary rewards of the day. After you were done, the sun was starting to set so your dad paid the bill and you all headed out: Shepard with Gibbs and you with Abbs. She had her hand either on your thigh or laced into your hand for half of the ride to your house where she was spending the night. Your dad cooked dinner that night for the four of you and Shepard headed home at around 9pm. You and Abby remained cuddled up for the rest of the night before finally falling asleep, wrapped together in each other's arms.

[ptpgunmedia]

Key Benefits of MD Firearms Safety Training with PTPGun

When it comes to firearms, safety is paramount. At PTPGun, a leading provider of firearms training in Maryland, we recognize the critical importance of proper education and training. Our comprehensive Firearms Safety Training Course MD is designed to equip individuals with the knowledge and skills necessary to handle firearms responsibly and safely. Here, we’ll explore the key benefits of undergoing this essential training, especially when provided by a regional leader like PTPGun.

1. Enhanced Safety Practices

The primary benefit of participating in a Firearms Safety Training Course MD with PTPGun is the significant enhancement of safety practices. Understanding how to handle a firearm safely is crucial for preventing accidents and ensuring responsible ownership. Our training covers vital safety protocols, including secure storage, safe handling techniques, and proper use of safety mechanisms. With rigorous training, you gain the confidence and competence needed to manage firearms safely, reducing the risk of accidental discharge and promoting overall safety in your environment.

2. Legal Compliance

Maryland has specific regulations and laws regarding firearm ownership and use. PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD ensures you are well-versed in these legal requirements. By completing our course, you gain a thorough understanding of Maryland's firearm laws, including those related to concealed carry, storage, and transportation. This knowledge helps you stay compliant with state laws, avoiding potential legal issues and ensuring that you handle firearms within the legal framework.

3. Improved Shooting Skills

A significant aspect of PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD is the emphasis on developing shooting skills. Proper training enhances accuracy, control, and overall shooting proficiency. Whether you're a novice or an experienced shooter, our course provides practical, hands-on instruction to help you improve your shooting technique. Better shooting skills translate to more effective use of firearms in self-defense scenarios, recreational shooting, or competitive events.

4. Increased Confidence

Confidence is a crucial factor in effective firearm handling. PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD is designed to build your confidence through comprehensive instruction and practical experience. By mastering essential skills and understanding safety protocols, you gain the self-assurance needed to handle firearms competently. This increased confidence not only enhances your personal safety but also contributes to a greater sense of security in various situations.

5. Preparedness for Self-Defense

In today’s world, being prepared for self-defense is increasingly important. PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD covers self-defense strategies and techniques, ensuring you are well-prepared to protect yourself and your loved ones if necessary. Training includes situational awareness, threat assessment, and defensive tactics, providing you with the tools needed to respond effectively in high-pressure situations.

6. Expert Instruction

One of the standout benefits of PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD is the expertise of our instructors. As a regional leader in practical and firearms training, PTPGun takes pride in our team of highly skilled professionals. Our instructors bring extensive experience and knowledge to the training environment, offering valuable insights and personalized instruction. This expert guidance ensures that you receive the highest quality training, tailored to your specific needs and skill level.

7. Community Engagement

Participating in PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD also fosters community engagement. Our courses are held in various cities, including Brandywine, Lexington Park, Annapolis, Ocean City, and Baltimore, allowing you to connect with others who share an interest in firearms safety. Engaging with fellow participants and instructors creates a supportive network where you can share experiences, discuss best practices, and build lasting connections within the firearms community.

8. Peace of Mind

Ultimately, the key benefit of PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD is the peace of mind it provides. Knowing that you are well-trained and informed about firearms safety, legal issues, and self-defense strategies brings a sense of calm and assurance. You can approach firearm ownership with confidence, knowing that you have the skills and knowledge necessary to handle firearms responsibly and safely.

Conclusion

In summary, enrolling in PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD offers numerous benefits, from enhanced safety practices and legal compliance to improved shooting skills and increased confidence. As a leading provider of firearms training in Maryland, PTPGun is committed to delivering top-notch education that equips you with the essential skills and knowledge for responsible firearm ownership. Our expert instructors, comprehensive curriculum, and focus on practical, hands-on training ensure that you receive the highest quality instruction.

Whether you’re in Brandywine, Lexington Park, Annapolis, Ocean City, or Baltimore, PTPGun’s Firearms Safety Training Course MD is your gateway to mastering the art of safe and effective firearm handling. Invest in your safety and well-being by enrolling in our course today and experience the benefits of expert firearms training firsthand.

Original Sources: https://ptpgunmedia.blogspot.com/2024/09/key-benefits-of-md-firearms-safety.html

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

How does Yves celebrate our birthday?

(P.S. thank you for the delicious content!)

However you want to celebrate. It could be as simple as having you make a wish and blow the candle out on the succulent birthday cake in the solitude of his living room, or as grand as a ballroom party where you invite all your friends and families, you get to dance in the most intricate dresses and suits made by his own skilled hands.

You would think that he commissioned the world's best fashion designer to create your outfits, but it was all himself after months of preparation. Yves would painstakingly hand sew every sequin, every bead, and it's this level of detail that makes your dress stand out.

Yves would work with teams of event managers and certified professional hires to facilitate your birthday. He would lead, even having a hand in the kitchen. He creates the menu and ensures that everyone he hired has the same faces throughout, because training starts a year prior to your big day. He remembers everyone's names, everyone's probability of making mistakes and ability to handle a variety of strange and unlikely scenarios.

His staff members would be confused and terrified as to why Yves has protocols if an armed intruder were to crash the party. Each person has their designated evacuation sites and roles to keep you, the guests and themselves safe. Most would already decide to back out after he handed them a thick booklet that details all the programmes happening on the day and all the potential scenarios they might face. Yves has his lawyers present with briefcases of waivers, NDAs and other binding contracts.

They thought that he was some sort of dangerous figure, better not involve themselves into something that they're going to regret. No pay is high enough to compromise their safety. But those who stuck around for years realized that he's just an extremely careful man who loves his darling to death.

The bomb-diffusing classes he required them to take were never put to use, they never once had to use a firearm to protect themselves and the guests, they never had to apprehend anyone who tried poisoning the food and the intensive first aid, toxin control and chemical dossiers they had to memorize by heart wasn't too useful. At most, they just had to deal with minor scrapes and burns in the kitchen. It's just a normal, lavish birthday party with friendly faces. Where the special birthday person is just a civilian who Yves spoils rotten.

He has over two hundred members, yet he knows the details of every single one. Even if two had the same name, he knows which is which. Yves remembers and they know that, which added more pressure on their shoulders. It always freaked them out when Yves caught them slacking off and he called them by their full name, with perfect pronunciation no matter how ethnic.

They cannot trick him into thinking they're supposed to be on break. There are numerous other employees, there is no way he remembers the roster for the day, right? Wrong, he was the one who made the schedules after all. And that unnerves them, he's just like a machine!

However, they appreciate being seen and valued individually. They're not just another tool to him, they're human with their own specific strengths, weaknesses and Yves sees that. It in turn motivates them to do their best. That, and the fact they cannot worm their way out of trouble at all. Reward and fear go hand in hand.

While he prepares for the biggest annual event 12 months prior, Yves somehow managed to spend enough time with you without raising suspicions of the surprise. Of course, you know it is going to be outstanding every year, you just don't know the true magnitude of preparation conducted by Yves.

On the day of your celebration, Yves would be in the kitchen, cooking your meals. It's going to follow the same menu he and the other senior chefs crafted, but yours is a lot more personalized- salted, sweetened or spiced to your liking. The rest of his kitchen staff focused on massive batch production to cater to potentially thousands of attendees.

Only Yves would be allowed to do your makeup and hair. You wouldn't want anyone else anyways, they couldn't compare to his skills and his knowledge of what you're trying to go for.

You spend the entire day being praised, loved and revered on stage. Yves standing by your side at all times as his entertainment team facilitates the event.

Dozens of photographers capture every angle of the happiest possible moments. His personal hidden video cameras running and feeding data back to his vault in real time.

You get to eat with the group of people you cared for the most, or if you rather eat with him alone, he will also humor you.

In the end, you would go home exhausted but happy. He will take care of you; by preparing a fresh set of comfortable clothes while you take a shower. If there's something particularly difficult to remove, such as hairspray or silicone prosthetics, he will help you with no complaints. The mess is left to Yves's loyal team to clean up.

He will give his employees a week to recoup before jumping right back into planning for your next birthday. Yves has to rent a moving truck every year just to transport all your presents from the ballroom to his home.

Or, perhaps you think that's an overwhelming way to celebrate another year of being alive. Maybe you wanted a gathering, but in a much smaller scale.

Then, he would host a party at his house. Yves will be in charge of the food, the decor and the activities. You don't have to lift a single finger, a number of his hires would also be involved, just that you wouldn't see them around. Yves tried working with your friends and families for the surprise, but their intent mostly doesn't align his. It's either that they're grossly wrong in thinking what you really wanted, they're trying to put the spotlight on themselves or they just don't take it as seriously as they should.

You would notice on your special day, his living room looked quite different from what you're used to. His gothic flair wasn't as pronounced, anything fragile was hidden and all other doors aside from the kitchen's and the bathroom's are locked shut.

Colourful banners, posters and ribbons that fit the theme you wanted decorated the walls, inflated balloons made the place lively and there was constant upbeat background music playing.

He provides extra seating, there is a zone just for children and teenagers with a plethora of toys, gadgets, game consoles, books and art materials. He brought in a couple of his team members who he knows work great with children to supervise the area. Yves made it as appealing as possible to people who tend to be disruptive when bored (usually ages 16 and below), so that they would stay contained there and not interrupt the 'adults'.

If some happened to breach containment, he would send his handlers a death glare for not doing a good enough job as he guided them back into the room.

But otherwise, Yves would be going in and out of the kitchen, holding trays of homemade food. He allows you to mingle with your guests, even those who are in the wretched "zone". Yves will begrudgingly step foot inside just to be with you, everyone felt the horrifying aura emanating from him though.

The children would play with you, but avoid Yves like the plague.

He would fix your plate of food for you, filling your cup with your favourite drink when it's empty and generally babying you. Yves wants you to enjoy the day, to forget that report deadline, your exams or that urgent email. He is going to handle it.

Just tell him whenever you're tired, he will drive everyone out of his house in his own polite, manipulative, reality bending way almost instantly.

You could either spend the day opening gifts or taking a nap. Yves is simply happy you had a good time.

Or,

You perhaps prefer a much smaller audience to please. A dinner with your friends or family at a nice, trusted restaurant, a maximum of 10 guests. In all three scenarios, Yves must bake the cake and help you dress up. He is the only one you trust to do so.

Yves would send out the invitations to them, deeply observing their life so that he could ensure they're coming. It would mean the world to you for them to attend, he doesn't want to see you disappointed.

The week leading up to your special day, he will do everything in his power to clear their schedules for you, be it from sabotaging their romantic relationships so they wouldn't abandon your little gathering for date nights, to slipping subconscious reminders to take their medications so they wouldn't be too depressed, anxious or psychotic to come, to poisoning their lecturers so they would have an extended deadline for their assignments, to intercepting the news of their dead relative first, so they wouldn't go to their funeral or mourn on that day, to calling them and dishing out insane guilt trips and/or threats.

The effort was all worth it to see your gleeful face smiling at the full attendance.

Of course, this is all paid by Yves. At the end of the day, you would come back home a year older with a full heart and stomach. Your guests would come home to clean up the mess Yves made in order to make them show up.

Or,

You don't want anyone else. You just want him to be there with you on your birthday. And you wanted to be involved in the process.

He will be more than happy to set up a romantic candle lit dinner at home, cooking a delicious, well portioned meal for two. He follows whatever tradition you're used to doing well.

You will receive a present from Yves, usually it's something you desperately yearned for, but never told anyone. It's fascinatingly eerie how he could figure it out every year.

You could pipe icing onto the cake you and him baked earlier. Laughing at the lopsidedness of your handicrafts while Yves kisses you on the temple for helping him in the kitchen.

It wouldn't be as grand, as flashy or as lively as the first two. Not by a long shot.

It's quiet, peaceful and sweet. But never lonely or empty.

As Yves is right there with you, teaching you how to hold a piping bag correctly. A pint of handmade icing wasted later, you managed your first successful border.

He hugged you from behind and praised your abilities. You melted into his touch as he pressed his lips on the top of your head.

The two of you shared a slice, because you were stuffed from the main course. Anyone could tell that the edible decor was made by someone inexperienced. But Yves didn't care, neither should you.

It's your birthday, and you get to decide how to celebrate it.

[historyofguns]

In the article "Don’t Make This First-Time Gun Owner Mistake" by Mike Boyle, published on The Armory Life, the author emphasizes the importance of careful selection and preparation for first-time gun owners. Boyle outlines four critical areas, termed "The Priorities," which include mental preparation, understanding of basic tactics, practical marksmanship, and possessing the right gear. He advises that choosing the right gun involves considering its intended use—whether for home defense or concealed carry—as these factors influence the appropriate size and weight. Notably, the article discourages small, sub-caliber pocket pistols for self-defense due to their poor performance and suggests considering service cartridges like the 9mm for reliable results. Boyle also discusses different pistol types, such as striker-fired and double-action models, recommending that new users practice diligently regardless of their choice. He reinforces that proper training and selecting a comfortable, manageable firearm are paramount for personal safety and effectiveness.

[southatlantafirearms]

In a city where responsible gun ownership is a major challenge, South Atlantic Firearms Training (SAFT) stands out as a shining example of firearms training academy. SAFT is raising the bar for firearm safety by providing comprehensive and holistic training programs that ensure gun owners in Atlanta are well-prepared to handle their firearms properly. This article discusses how SAFT’s approach to firearm safety, from fundamental handling to advanced defensive abilities, distinguishes it as a leader in the area.

[cinderkaliningrad]

Imperfect Mask. - BNHA fanfic.

We all know the story of My Hero Academia: a perfect façade society in which good always wins, but which fades and falls over the course of the series. But what if there was someone in class 1A from the beginning. Someone who would challenge each and every one of their beliefs. It is well known that their society is far from perfect:

Racism towards those who are mutants.

Fear of quirks that are randomly associated with potentially evil and villainous activities.

Social exclusion of those without powers.

Blind faith in the protection provided by heroes.

A society of extremes: black or white and nothing in between. What if there was a grey person?

WARNINGS: distress, sadness, mention of war, mention of murder, betrayal, non-explicit PTSD, human trafficking.

Theme: Sixth season, battle against the PLF, human rights, rebellion against society.

Context: The protagonist is an AU student specifically trained to terminate individuals who pose a threat to society. His/her quirk is related to firearms control. The protagonist is a European trafficked person who has been kept in secret by Japan to use his/her quirk to the government advantage. However, when he/she is ordered to kill Geten as he's living danger, he/she refuses and challenges the heroes openly.

There is a phrase that keeps repeating in your head: "It is monsters that create wars or wars that create monsters". You don't know it, all the monsters are dead, caged or hidden under your bed waiting for their moment. You look around you and, although all is chaos, for the first time you feel at peace. The flames of a fire never felt so familiar. You look up at the sky and sigh, close your eyes as the raindrops wash the blood and ashes from your cheeks. You never wanted to be part of all this. For you, the conflict between heroes and villains was nonsense, however real it was. Like all wars, isn't it? Something completely avoidable, something that could be stopped but didn't pay off. The permanent threat of evil in the world. If there were so many heroes, why not eradicate it with everyone's strength? You had lost interest in that endless struggle a long time ago. Everyone wanted to be a hero and you wanted to be normal, no matter how powerful your quirk was. If it only served to create more suffering and perpetrate the senselessness that claimed thousands of lives year after year, you didn't want to use it. Not for good, but not for evil either. Weapons had never brought peace, only fear.

WARFARE, that was your quirk: the power to control the war machine, potent and terrifying like no other. What was the use of a war quirk? To kill. Or so everyone had told you. A living weapon. A child soldier. Another life lost in a sea of tears and blood. For you being a hero was the same as being a slave: bound by expectations, laws, pressure, the yoke of a responsibility too great even for a large group of people. And you found yourself breaking those chains. Your peers, teachers and superiors looking at you with astonishment, as if they were not to blame for everything. You had been sold on the black market, brought from a small country far away to Japan. So far away that none of those heroic prodigies could tell you where you were. And you had been saved by the heroes of the Public Safety Commission, trained as an annihilator. You had been forced to pull the trigger on people, no matter if they were villains. They were people! And you were a little girl. Every time you looked at your hands, they were dripping with blood that you yourself had spilled.

How many people had you killed? You were supposed to be a heroine, but when you looked in the mirror you were just a disgusting murderer. And the best thing is that you didn't get a penny for all that. "Too small to have a dream." But apparently not too small to be a life reaper. - You thought with disgust and spat on the ground at the feet of one of your mentors. I hate myself, I hate you all.

"We have to fulfill the mission." Hawks said to you, his sword-feathers stained with Twice's blood. "I'm not going to do it." You said clutching the magazine of your rifle. Meanwhile, behind you was an unconscious bluecoat buried under the rubble of Gunga. "Not another one. Are your lives worth more than theirs?" Your eyes burned with your powers and your blood boiled as if you had a fever. "It's one life for thousands." Hawks snapped at you. "It's your mission to end him." He pointed to the ice villian trapped in the ruins. "Then shoot yourself." You threw a gun at his feet with a single bullet. "Because you've killed one person today and I know you've killed more. You, me and all of our kind. If the reasoning is one life for thousands: end your life and let live the hundreds of villains whose lives are threatened because of us." Your classmate Tokoyami, who came to help you in the worst moment posible, looked at you in disbelief, his good heart preventing him from believing what you had just said. Killing people? Eliminating villains? No. That was impossible, wasn't it? "Stop looking at me like that, nothing is black and white." You snorted tiredly, lossing your papers. "It's stupid to think that a thing as complex as society can be perfect." "Things don't have to be that way." Tokoyami tried to reason with you. "This is not a good moment to doubt." "But they are, and no one has done anything to change it." You rebutted him, ignoring the last sentence. The voices of your friends and teachers began to shout over the communicator as they knew that something was wrong with you. Annoyed, you grabbed it with your hands, threw it to the ground and shot the device, scaring the nearby heroes. What was happening to you?

"…" You heard your name being shouted around you and your grip on your rifle tightened to white knuckles. "You wanted war didn't you? You wanted to exterminate the villains? You think that we worth more than then." You felt your sanity slowly slipping away, or rather, that mask of normality falling off your face with every step you took. Years of leaving dead villains on street corners and passing it off as a gangland shootout had sapped your sanity like a 7 grit sandpaper. Not knowing what the hell you were doing with your hands, you raised your rifle to your former comrades and allies. You had 5 other rifles floating around you which you were controlling with your quirk. When a random hero tried to knock you unconscious it was the final straw. Because in that world you are either with the heroes or with the villains and doubt is not allowed. "Welcome to hell." Regardless of the consequences you pulled the trigger as if firing into a set of memories you wanted to erase: all the fake smiles, the helplessness of not being able to tell the truth, the incomprehension,... The feeling of being a puppet or a slave and the horrible and lonely nights crying out of guilt. From the beginning you had always been the odd one out: a war quirk, a non-normative appearance, strange ideals for heroes, an attitude that didn't fit with the pink and flowers of their perfect world. Stop pretending, stop being hypocrites, stop hiding things. Start actually helping people. You thought harshly. Every human has the right to be free. And I want to be free.

You didn't notice that the heroes had retreated or that you were crying until the rifle you were holding had overheated, forcing you to drop it, and a cold hand touched your shoulder. Strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. "There, now. It's over, it's over." Geten's deep voice whispered on your ear.

That voice had comforted you before. Or rather you had comforted him. How things have changed since then, right? Because you were both little when you met in that dark place where human traffickers had locked you up: both children sold by their families. It had been so long that you both thought the other was dead. But then you saw each other on the battlefield. He, powerful and free, from the heights of his floating ice platform. And you, an enslaved force of nature, tied to the ground. The joy you felt when you saw him was immense, you both had recognized each other instantly. "You can be free! Come with me! You're in time!" I had yelled at you. And there you were, the two of you together again.

"I missed you." You weren't sure if that was your voice or his.

Note: Sorry if there are holes in the script. It's the first fanfic I've written in English and in public. If I see that I like it, I will make a second part delving into this character who is the protagonist.

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Yukio Okumura (Blue Exorcist)

Y'all Hate Teens propaganda

cw: suicide / attempted suicide

Yukio has been seeing demons his whole life and been training to be an exorcist (using guns as his weapon of choice) since he was 7 years old! He became a teacher at 15 to other 15 year olds with no experience or say in the matter after his foster father died and became the one that had to protect his twin brother, who inherited the flame of Satan from their bio dad. That's a lot of pressure to put on someone! Then when he stumbled upon the fact he might also have demonic abilities, of course he became self destructive, he didn't have any adult to rely on. He hurt not only himself but the others around him bc that's what mental illness makes you do! You end up hurting people! Everyone hates Yukio for shooting his brother (he was fine, demon powers), but HE ALSO SHOT HIMSELF!! HE ATTEMPTED SUICIDE 4 SEPERATE TIMES* AND PEOPLE WISHED THAT HE SUCCEEDED! If anyone's in the wrong here, it's Mephisto and Fujimoto for giving firearms to a mentally ill teen. He did a lot of bad things, yes, but it was because he was spiraling out of control and is clearly not okay mentally.

*Correction: its actually 5, maybe 6 if you count destroying a moving aircraft with no regards to his own safety as an attempt