#Shoot Me an Ask About Something's Placement if You Want

[mumpsetc]

would u consider making a ranking tierlist for every object show you had watched?

The Tier List I Was Using Didn't Have (Or I Couldn't Find) Unconventionally Centered and SFAIM, Both of Which Ive Enjoyed a Lot and Would Probably Put In Good or Funny.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Bruce has a 'if you can't beat them, join them' mentality about the tabloids claiming he adopts too many kids- Developing foster homes that are paid for through the Wayne inheritance, personally vetted by the Bats, they're the leaders in the space for child health outcomes and family placement. Insert Danny.

---

Bruce has too much wealth, too many rumors and not enough reach into the abhorrent foster homes around Gotham to improve them. Tim ends up being the one to suggest it- He's the one who buys up their real estate for their safe houses after all- and Bruce is more than ready to pull the metaphorical trigger to get new clean welcoming spaces, Bat-background checked fosters and a new era of adoption in Gotham underway.

He's lobbied the state and the federal government for reforms of course, but this is a project he can micromanage. He spends time with every kid that comes through, talks with all the families that want to adopt and makes sure that these miniature homes are provided only the very best. Alfred personally hires all the staff, and with Barbara more than happy to help relocate the unhoused children she spots while they patrol, the project is a glowing success.

Occasionally, spots in their houses fill up, and those are the weeks were Cass takes on the Cowl of Batman- Bruce Wayne will personally invite a child in need to his home. He always has one of his kids present (they rotate on a pre-determined schedule) and he does his best to try and get them to understand that they deserve the world, have all the potential that anyone else has and can achieve a bright future. That he will personally aid them in their ambitions.

PR goes crazy for it of course, but Bruce and all of his children know its genuine. Almost too genuine, because a betting pool 'WILL THEY BE ADOPTED' regularly circulates between the siblings and the entire JL when someone spends time at the manor. And not just the black-haired, Blue-eyed kids get picked as favored outcomes- but obviously the running joke gets passed around.

It's a Thursday night when Bruce gets the call that the houses have once again filled up, and that there is a child in need of a home. The social worker (he knows her as Marsha and he has flowers planned to be sent on her birthday next week, like he does for all of his employees) (Say micromanaged one more time) explains that the kid is a bit cagey but has opened up with some humor. She explains that he has a few strange... mannerisms. She's not sure what to make of him, a non-gothamite for sure but something is, well, distinctly 'not from around here' about his energy.

Danny arrives at the house, meets Duke and Alfred, and by the time Bruce meets him at the dinner table it seems as though Marsha had it all wrong. This kid was laughing, he was teasing, he was totally playing along like he'd gone through nothing. Bruce is glad he's in high spirits but its just so... so different from all the other children he's taken in.

Bruce re-focuses on the conversation when Duke mentions something flashing, and its the first time that Danny goes quiet. Entirely still.

"...you noticed that?" Danny quietly asks, a bit of disbelief in his tone.

"You don't have a flashlight on or something do you? It was super bright whatever it is that you had in your hand a second ago?" Duke tries to sound chill but he's looking very much not chill. Bruce saw nothing, and that puts him further on edge.

"Look... I uh, I've been though... I've been through a lot lately. And the last lab I was in kind of, messed with me. I'm normally much better at dealing with it all, I promise." Danny sounds nervous, and the room seems to chill.

"Ah shoot, sorry." Danny notices something and frantically apologizes.

"Sorry for what Danny? You've done nothing wrong but I am worried about you- You said you were in a lab?" Bruce is desperately trying to calm him down while not slipping into Batman interrogation mode.

"Uh, yeah, like a lot of labs. It should get warmer in a second, its just cause I startled, I promise."

"You're a meta." Duke speaks softly and with hope in his voice- Danny is looking between them with wide eyes filled with fear.

"I mean I don't technically have the gene-"

"Danny, have you told any of your case workers where you were? Do any authorities know what you've been through?" Bruce needs to know, desperately, that who ever gave this young boy super powers is brought to justice. Danny goes quiet.

"I'm really sorry." He says softly, but he doesn't leave them.

Duke and Bruce try to ask a few more questions but the silence that meets them declares the conversation over, even with Duke admitting he himself is a meta. Danny didn't even look up from his plate. They watch a movie after dinner, and Danny seems to get back to the smile-y happy guy he had been before dinner.

Each of the bat-fam have their own interactions with Danny- And even if they're getting along amazingly, Danny won't open up. He doesn't open up to his provided therapist. Doesn't talk to Alfred. No one knows what's up.

So when Marsha calls Bruce back explaining they now have a spot for Danny and he can move out of the Manor... Bruce replies that he'd like to get started on Adoption paperwork, so long as Danny is fine with it.

---

Turns out, Danny is fine with it. he's both the newest Wayne and their newest case. (And godamnit, his new family is going to avenge him. If only he'd let them try.)

Danny figures out that Duke= Signal early on because of that dinner, and if he's going to keep his parents out of jail, he needs to be as close to the investigation as possible. He knows that he shouldn't protect the Fentons, but he feels the upset in his core at the thought of letting them befall any harm. He has to protect them. Has to protect Jazz and her hiding spot as a mole within their lab. Has to.

Even if it meant lying to his new family who loves him, and who he loves in equal return. Even if it means lying to The Bats.

---

Tabloids go crazy about the black-haired blue-eyed thing of course, but no poll was ever taken by the batfam or the JL who know the whole story.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Actor ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Obsession; Manipulation.

--

◾ Yandere! Actor who feels like he’s been hit and runned over by a truck when he meets you for the first time at the script reading for his latest movie. The moment he encounters your eyes, gosh, boy is a goner.

Whipped.

In love.

Bamboozled.

Out of his mind.

The way his stomach whirls in a lovely storm should be illegal.  

◾ Yandere! Actor that falls for you fast and hard, hardly believing that destiny has landed you on his lap as you are his co-star, the female lead of his rom-com - his romantic interest - both in the movie as in real life.

You’re so cute and precious. Not as smoking hot or pretty as many of his plastic-fake co-stars but he’s drawn to you, like a bee to honey. 

◾ Yandere! Actor who is not shy when it comes to showing his heavy interest for you.

A part of you realizes how much of a red flag he is and you just hope he doesn’t turn out to be those superstars that take advantage of younger actresses. 

But strangely enough, he appears to be fully content in just listening to you, asking you a million questions about your life and about your interests, hobbies,...

You feel a tinge of awkwardness as he inches closer to you, devotedly drinking up each word that comes out of your glossed lips as if he’s enamored with your voice. 

◾ Yandere! Actor who shows up at your trailer for more private script readings or to practice your lines for a particular scene. Lots of ramblings about how pretty you are, how you’re going to be the next Hollywood star and that he can definitely help you out with that.

You smile and accept his compliments, trying your best to be polite even though he makes you uncomfortable. 

◾ Yandere! Actor who is incredibly annoying and inconsiderate of other people - that’s what you discover when the shooting process begins.

He completely disregards your feelings and oversteps boundaries, frequently making you extremely uncomfortable when he yells at the staff because your morning coffee was slightly cold or because someone didn’t put your trailer right next to his.

Despite feeling so bad for the low-ranking staff members, you feel grateful enough that you’re not on the receiving end of his anger. 

◾ Yandere! Actor that acts like you’re both in a committed relation when the promotions start. During interviews, you’re stunned in the realization that he is very much invested in acting like there is something secret going on between you.

The intimate placement of his hand on your thigh, those intense looks he gives you, the way he incessantly compliments and overates your acting skills. Draping his arm around your shoulder, being a sweetheart to you.

It shouldn’t even be a surprise as fans start to ship you, the two of you becoming the new hot topic of the internet and much to your surprise, your movie is a commercial hit.

All because everyone wants to see your chemistry on the big screen. 

◾ Yandere! Actor who one night, during a red carpet, takes the chance to confide to you that he loves you. And right there, in front of all the cameras, he gets down on one knee and pulls the prettiest diamond ring.

Barely even waits for your stumbling answer, before pushing the tight ring down your finger, making you his. 

And if you try to deny him, trust me, he can show a side of him that you won’t like.

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[thesirencult]

PAC : 2024. HOW WILL IT TRANSFORM YOU ?

This time of the year our spiritual senses are heightened. Possibilities, the past and the future, for a few nanoseconds we are in the in between. Throughout 2024 we will all be transformed. In this reading I will go over which parts of your psyche will be touched by the year that holds the meaning of number 8, transformative and abundant.

"New Year" readings ar available for 25€. If you are interested just shoot me a private message.

Hope you enjoy this general reading and may your soul find the guidance it has a thirst for... S

PILE 1

“The psyches and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

Dear Pile 1,

2024 will transform the way you see change . Up until now you may have been resistant to changing certain aspects of your life. This could have something to do with your childhood and the way you, transforming and letting your emotions and intuitive sparks control, got you shamed and alienated.

This year you will learn the power rebranding has. It is never ever too late to change our direction and to let our instincts take the wheel for a change.

You will be transformed and blessed through the need for constant change and movement this next year and your ability to adapt will be sharpened.

At the end of the year, you will no longer see change as something that cause insecurity and fear. You will see it as the catalyst of the process of creating, YOU.

I know that right now you might be scoffing 1. Getting out of your safe zone is not easy for you. You may have prominent cancer on your chart, Saturn touching your moon or a strong moon placement.

Trust the process and let your soul go through the movements and cycles of transformation. Growing pains.

PILE 2

“Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation- in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

Pile 2, we are all in this together.

I picked this pile too and I want to tell you how this energy makes me feel. Everything is possible, until you ask the question you want to ask and make your choice. Let me break it down for you.

We are in need of a deep self-searching period. For the next few days, until December 31st take your time to ask the right questions. First and foremost ask yourself "What do I really want and need?"

2024 will transform us because it will make us ask questions. Question everything and everyone. Having questions is not bad. Be humble. We don't have to know it all. This makes me feel like we are going to be learning something new this year that will put us in the position of "the student".

This year you will come closer to your inner child because, guess what? Children ask a lot of questions and they are the OG philosophers.

This is how philosophy and science came to be in our world, per Plato and Aristotle. Because humans dared to ask questions.

This year will transform you to your core. Be delusional.

The key theme here : This year will transform the prism through which we look at life. We will realise that it is much better to guide ourselves as a student and look at life as a big wonderful world. Believe in the impossible. Curiosity killed the cat but WISDOM brought it back to life. Take good care fellow Plutonians 🫡.

PILE 3

“When a woman is frozen of feeling, when she can no longer feel herself, when her blood, her passion, no longer reach the extremities of her psyche, when she is desperate; then a fantasy life is far more pleasurable than anything else she can set her sights upon. Her little match lights, because they have no wood to burn, instead burn up the psyche as though it were a big dry log. The psyche begins to play tricks on itself; it lives now in the fantasy fire of all yearning fulfilled. This kind of fantasizing is like a lie: If you tell it often enough, you begin to believe it.”

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, quote from Women Who Run With the Wolves

This is your fake it till you make it year. Big imposter syndrome vibes will follow you around like a rainy cloud.

"Do I deserve all the good things which are happening for me?", you ask. The question you should be asking yourself is "Should I read Pile 2, too?" 😂. All jokes aside learn to question that voice that says that you don't deserve as seat on the table.

You are a master at setting the table, now it is your time to sit on your lil chair and relax while others bring you the food.

2024 will put you in a position of authority. You hold the wheel now so do what you gotta do and don't blame your little self (are you a Virgo/Scorpio/Capricorn?) for not getting all the way there. Little by little the castle gets built 🏰.

Disclaimer :

Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only.

Tarot readings are subject to interpretation and should not be taken as absolute. A tarot reading is never 100% accurate. All tarot readings given by me are for entertainment purposes only, and no guarantee can be given as to the accuracy of a reading. A tarot reading does not replace professional medical/legal/business opinion and advice. It will not force you to follow a particular course of action, or attempt to exert any form of control over your free-will and common sense. The contents of a tarot reading are not legally binding. Any decisions made, or actions taken by you as a result of your tarot reading are your sole responsibility and have not been forced upon you, by me, your tarot reader. I assume no legal liability for any damages, losses, or other consequences of any client decisions, subsequent to, or based on, my tarot readings. Please use your own common sense and judgment at all times. Tarot readings are also copyrighted and their creative content belongs to the creator.

As always, you CONTROL your life.

You have FREE WILL.

Freedom comes with RESPONSIBILITY.

Anyone that tells you otherwise doesn't have your best interest in mind.

Lots of love and kisses xoxo ❤️

TheSirenCult

[pellucid-constellations]

angstober (3)

Prompt: "But I love you"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: This takes place at the beginning of civil war :) ANGST!! I love angstober <3

You can also read my angstober drabbles here and here (if you wanna)!!

~~~

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

God, how things were supposed to be different. 

Bucky rummaged through a backpack he’d thrown in the corner of your apartment sometime last month. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, you were left wondering just how many items he’d strewn about his life, a randomized placement of his belongings all ready for him if he needed to bolt. 

Would he take you, too? Were you not something he considered his? 

“Bucky, talk to me. What’s going on?” you tried. You’d already asked that same question in three different ways. After he’d barged through your door with his hoodie drawn up to his chin and his hat low on his forehead, you’d bombarded him with questions. He hadn’t answered any of them. 

And he was wearing gloves. He hadn’t worn gloves around you in a long time. 

“I can’t tell you. Can’t stay here.” 

You were grateful for a response this time, at least. You tracked him with your gaze as he zipped up his backpack and moved through your kitchen, removing pots and pans from your cabinet in a loud, clattering motion. He reached his arm in until his elbow disappeared within the wooden doors and then pulled it back out, a gun now firm in his grip. 

“When did you put that in there?” you startled, uncrossing your arms from your chest. You were still in your pajamas. Bucky had gone to get breakfast and left you in bed. And now he was leaving. 

“A while ago,” he responded, the words barely forming on his lips.

He was moving again before you could truly voice your bafflement, shrugging the bag over his shoulders and readjusting the straps. Panic surged through your chest and up your throat. He really was leaving. You knew he’d been running from something when you met all those months ago, but there had been nothing wrong when he left this morning. You made him feel safe. He wanted to stay with you. He’d told you that himself. 

You reached out a hand and he jolted at the contact, gaze shooting up to meet yours. Your eyes flickered between his own, desperation clear in your expression as you pleaded with him. “Don’t leave. Tell me what’s happened.” 

Your hand burned on his shoulder but you couldn’t remove it. 

He looked almost as ruined as you did, but there was something else behind his eyes. Determination, maybe? Resolve? 

“I can’t.”

It was the shortness that ultimately broke you. You heaved out a pained breath as your waterline filled, letting your hand drop. Your arm swung uselessly down to your side and you bit into your lip as your eyelashes gathered moisture.

Bucky’s stoic demeanor fractured, a tiny sliver showing you the man you’d come to know. The one you’d carved out from cold, hard stone. It had taken you weeks to get him to smile, even longer to get him to finally kiss you. When he spent the night for the first time, he was too stiff to hold you. But that was all different now. He was different now. 

He had told you he wanted to stay. That he wanted to keep you safe. 

You saw that part of Bucky as his lips twisted into an uncomfortable grimace, his arms reaching out to haul you into his chest. 

“C’mere,” he grunted out, chin resting on the crown of your head. “C’mere, honey, I’m sorry.” 

You cried into his chest, hiccuping as you asked, “Why are you leaving? I can come with you. I want to help you.” 

He shushed you, running gloved hands along the back of your head. “Can’t, baby. Where I’m headed isn’t safe. I’ve been real lucky for a while but that luck’s run out.” 

“Bucky, you can’t—” 

“I’m not good for you here. I need to keep you safe and I can’t do that while I’m being selfish. I’d give anything to bring you with me, but I won’t put you in danger.” 

You pressed your nose into his chest, willing the feel of him into your memory. You could hardly breathe like this, but that didn’t matter. When he left, when he was really and truly gone, you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe at all. 

Your hardwood floor creaked beneath your feet as Bucky stepped closer and burrowed you further into his body, his lips pressing hard against your forehead. You hated this apartment—this tiny, cloistered space in Romania. It would only serve as a reminder of him once he was gone. 

Maybe you would move. 

But would he be able to find you, once it was safe? Would he come looking? 

The thought made your chest constrict. What if he never came back? 

Bucky pulled back from you, taking your face into his palms. His face scrunched up in displeasure at the tears still glistening on your cheeks, and he tried to remedy them with the pad of his thumb. They kept coming, even when you’d stopped crying. 

“I have to go. Longer I stay here, the more danger you’re in.”

Your next words fell from your lips without hesitation, tears thick in your tone as you stressed, “But I love you.” 

Bucky froze, mouth parting. You’d said it with so much sadness, so much heaviness in the words he’d been aching to hear for so long. You hadn’t said them yet because you didn’t want to scare him off. 

But he was leaving now. There was nothing to lose. 

The kiss he pressed to your lips was hard and rushed and a breath left his nose with so much tension a low groan accompanied the action. His fingers were gripping your jaw and desperately trembling. His feet were slotted between yours and you tugged at his jacket to bring him closer, closer, closer. 

“That’s why I have to leave,” Bucky huffed out against your lips, eyes closed. He couldn’t watch as he left you. “I’m gonna find you again. Even if it’s in another life.” 

[midnightblues444]

Meanie weanie |

Executive Ran x executive! Reader

Summary: after years of banter you've learnt not to take anything that Ran Haitiani says seriously, but cant help but wonder when the jokes end

Tags: smut with plot, workplace romance,

Sorry for being so inactive guys!! But here's a little thing

The cool evening breeze softly decorates your skin with goosebumps. The balcony you found refuge on is mostly empty, guests spaced out in huddles of conversation while you gingerly sip on a sweet cocktail.

"Mind if I join you there darlin?" the voice is male, annoying, you can tell as he saunters closer. You raise your brows without a word, raising your glass to your lips.

"So, you here with anyone?" He tries to be smooth

"No actually" you mumble, rubbing your slightly cold arms

"Ah so what brings you here then if not a date?"

"Business, its my company's event, so not really here for fun" your sips turn to gulps, you want this conversation to end

"Ah cmon theres room for a little fun right?" He shoots again, with a loopy grin

"Well I was having some fun before you showed up" you give him a look, turning to face him with as much annoyance you can muster. The offence paints his face as he prepares to say something else.

"Ohh ouch, she got you there man" the familiar sound of Ran Haitianis deep voice,of course, as if he just appeared. The man huffs, embarrassed to say anything else, you motion with your hands for him to shoo and glare before he leaves.

Ran turns to you with a pleased look on his face.

"You're so mean miss (name), it's hot"

You take a sip and glare at him over the rim of your glass, Ran Haitiani, your fellow executive who knows no bounds, hes beautiful unfortunately...tall, not too slender, with sleepy lilac eyes, tonight his dress shirt clings by his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearm, revealing his tattoo.

Hes a flirt, a reputable man whore, you've tried to stay away from romantically. Being cautious not to fuck your colleague even though hes as fuckable as this. Although youve been testing your luck with some flirting, harmless banter, you call it.

"your dance card full?" He grins,

"Yes actually, theres a line of gentlemen waiting for my hand" you sigh giving your voice an exaggerated trill, putting your glass down

He grins wider, taking your hand in his, like a victorian gentleman, "then they'll have to wait longer hmm?"

Dancing with Ran felt like one of those moments where you catch yourself thinking he might genuinely like you. That the flirty banter is laced with hidden feelings hes scared to admit,

Its in the way his eyes never leave your own, his hand on the small of your back guiding you to the music, he doesn't make awkward small talk instead he makes fun of some poor passersbys and you laugh quietly trying to not make it obvious your laughing at a target.

It's nice, until the the songs over and Yuki,a woman from the company's catering service asks to steal him from you, just for a moment of course, forcing you to leave the dancefloor.

Hes not yours, you know that much, but cant ignore the feeling you get in your stomach when you notice his hand placement , finding yourself stomping back to your hotel room. Its moments like these where you hate company trips, wishing you could be in your own bed sulking for as long as you pleased.

You exit the elevator, deciding to take your heels off before continuing on. Sudedenly hearing your name get called from behind you. Ran, once again just appearing. You roll your eyes as he gets closer.

"Why'd you go?" He tries to hide that hes panting

"Did you take the stairs?" You avoid his question

"Elevator was occupied." hes quick "whyd you go?"

"Just felt like it"

He gives you a look, he doesn't buy it

"I mean...I'm pretty tired and Yuki came so I just didnt feel like standing there and if I went back to our table, the rest of the guys would probably tease me about us dancing together- and I really am not in the mood for that and... why are you looking at me like that"

Hes staring at you, no, hes gazing between your eyes and lips. Hes amused, grinning. "Jealousy makes you look super kissable" he smiles

"Stop just saying nonsense" you correct him rolling your eyes

"I never just say anything miss (name)" he steps closer

You huff in disbelief, looking away, when his hand suddenly on your chin turns you to face him "stay still, and ask me to kiss you"

Your breath hitches, you stare at him and then his lips, your heart races. You know hes being serious and this is now a moment of truth.

"Kiss me then Haitaini"

He grins so hard you feel it deep into the kiss, he kisses you tenderly, his fingers tracing your jaw and cheeks. Your hands gently hold his wrists, yet find themselves around his neck as it deepens.

You feel dizzy when you pull away, breathless, eyes opening slowly, "shall we move then" you sigh, with a gentle chuckle he laughs too.

In your room, he can barely stop kissing you, groaning onto your mouth, through the door to the edge of the bed.

You begin unbuttoning his dress shirt, discarding it. You kiss his chest and neck while undoing his belt. He gets out of the pants, and is left in just his black boxers.

You push him so that hes laying back on the matress, watch me, you wordlessly command. turning so he can unzip the dress. You slip the straps off each shoulder and let the thing fall down to your ankles, watching how his bulge grows.

You unclip your bra, and slip out of your panties. Hes jerking himself breathless, as you climb over him. Sitting cutely on his dick, you grind your hips teasingly as he groans, you kiss him boldly now, continuing grinding, you can tell he can barely focus by the way he sighs deeply.

You suck hickies onto his skin, and begin guiding him inside you, finally sinking down completely, you both let out a drawled "fuck". As you begin to bounce, desperate to keep the friction.

He chuckles at your whines, bringing one hand to thumb at your clit roughly and the other to take charge of the pace, thrusting upwards to your spot almost desperately.

He moans your name so sweetly each time you clamp down on him. And you feel your brain go to mush at how deep inside you he reaches, filling you up so good, your moans being paired with the sound of skin slapping.

"You drive me crazy" he says, and he means it, his thrusts get messier as he gives give you more,

"so close" you gasp, before you realise it your coil snaps, you arch at the way he doesn't stop and keeps fucking you through it. He finishes soon after you, groaning out curses, you feel his dick spluttering release and it dripping down your thighs.

Your panting as you come down, slowly, laying on him before feeling him turn you over. Climbing over you with his signature grin

"I'm not done with you sweetheart"

[cyberfreaky]

CELLOPHANE ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ PART I

༘⋆ PAIRING — olo’eyktan!jake x fem!reader

༘⋆ SUMMARY — in which your taboo infatuation with your olo’eyktan begins to cause problems.

༘⋆ WARNINGS — age gap (32 & 22), mentions of daddy issues, power imbalance, no comfort angst, infidelity, mild violence, alcohol usage, arguing, eventual smut.

༘⋆ NOTES — my first proper series PURRRR i hope y’all enjoy this. updates may be slow since i start back at school soon, but i’ll make time xx this parts kinda boring but i jus wanted to try show the dynamic reader & jake share ??$2&:@/$

MASTERLIST + CELLOPHANE MASTERLIST

next

the communal fire burnt brightly, everyone sat around while consuming their supper. you didn’t have much of an appetite, resorting to you sitting in your lonesome and quietly watching your clan with bored eyes. the sounds of chattering and laughter buzzed in your ears, everyone speaking happily amongst themselves about today’s successful mission. your mind was elsewhere — in your own little fantasy you’d created with a certain someone. to the average person, this would seem rather pathetic. but you were wilfully blind.

“not hungry?”

you were swiftly brought out of your thoughts, glancing over your shoulder and noticing your olo’eyktan taking a seat besides you. there was an instant burst of joy that coursed through you - a coy smile painting your face as you shook your head in response. “no, sir. my tummy feels funny.”

“y’know you don’t have to keep calling me sir, right?” jake chuckled at your timid response, giving your side a playful nudge. “just call me jake. sir makes me feel old.”

“sorry. jake.” you apologise quietly, anxiously scratching your forearm.

this nightly ritual of jake visiting you throughout supper had become one of your favourite moments of the day. you were so helplessly smitten with him - your closest friends would joke that it neared an obsession at this point. it was your deepest secret, what was once an innocent crush had blossomed into something forbidden. you were hopelessly in love with your olo'eyktan - and it pained you everyday knowing nothing could ever come of it.

you felt jake's hand rest on your knee, a playful expression on his face. "where do 'ya disappear to in that head of yours?" he smiled warmly, clearly taking notice of how your trance-like state. you brushed it off with a coy smile, shrugging timidly at the question. jake's hand placement was innocent, especially the gentle pats he gave assuringly. "you got a stomach bug or somethin'? could explain the loss of appetite."

"no, it's not that. i'm just a little sad." you admit honestly, a small sigh escaping your lips as you glanced down at the ground.

jake’s face fell at your words. he shifted a little closer, his hand still placed on your bent knee. “what’s wrong?” he asks with a concerned tone, you could hear how genuinely worried he was. jake cared about you - just as he cared for anyone in the clan. but you never saw the blurred line between the two.

you couldn’t admit what you were feeling. there was no chance in hell that you’d ever tell jake what was going through your head. how do you possibly tell your leader that you never stop thinking of him? that his friendly gestures and innocent touches felt like ecstasy to you? that you envied his mate with your entire being? these weren’t regular thoughts. these weren’t normal feelings. even in your own delusional little bubble — you could recognise that these emotions were taboo.

“you can talk to me, kid. y’know that.” jake assured once again, using that bastardly nickname you loathed. kid. was that all he saw you as? you were a grown woman, not some sad pouting child with a tummy ache.

you sighed deeply, trying to form some kind of lie in your head as you gazed at jake. “i’m, uh…i’m not feeling confident with my skills. that’s it. i don’t..um, i still can’t shoot properly.” you try to sound as genuine as possible - hoping that your sullen expression could convince him even further. it was a ridiculous lie, but nothing else came to mind. your aim was impeccable.

jake nodded slowly, his lips soon curling into a small smile. "how about this? tomorrow morning, i'll take ‘ya out for some practice."

you couldn't contain the grin that grew on your face. your little white lie had lead to something even better — alone time with jake. you nodded eagerly at his offer, trying your hardest to suppress the overwhelming excitement you were feeling. "really? you'd do that?"

“course i would, anything to help.” jake says with a warm smile, giving your knee one last squeeze before retracting his hand away. “i’ll swing by your hut after the morning hunt and we’ll go from there. sound good?”

“that sounds amazing. thank you, si-” you pause for a moment, correcting yourself quickly before calling him sir. “jake. thank you, jake.”

jake chuckled in response, giving you a friendly wink before climbing to his feet and bidding you farewell. your eyes followed him as he walked back to his mate, jealously watching him plant a kiss on her cheek. you shook your head, taking a deep breath before remembering that you had tomorrow to be excited for. ‘it’s fine, it’s all fine.’ you’d repeat in your head, appeasing the envious feelings that began to bubble up inside you.

the idea of spending hours alone with jake kept you calm and collected. a giddy smile formed on your lips as your thumb grazed the skin of your knee — already missing jake’s comforting touch against you.

that night in your hut was restless, you couldn’t contain the excitement of seeing jake in the morning. you held your pillow to your chest, sighing in pure ecstasy at the mere thought of spending hours on end with him. it was an incomparable feeling, another chapter to file in your delusional bliss.

“that’s it. arms straight, no slouchin’. you gotta keep your posture nice and tight.”

jake instructed you from the side, speaking with a stern yet calm tone. you already knew this, this information had been drilled in your head since your were a child. but were more than willing to act a little oblivious for the sake of some alone time with your olo’eyktan.

you followed his instructions, straightening your dominant arm as you firmly held the heavy bow in your hand. you gingerly glanced over your shoulder at jake, purposely hunching your back a little. your eyes quickly darted to the target painted on the distant tree — eagerly awaiting for jake’s reaction to your form.

“c’mon, you can’t shoot an arrow with sloppy posture.” jake says disapprovingly.

you felt him stand directly behind you, one callous hand pressing on your tummy while the other rested on your lower back. a gentle gasp escaped your lips, quiet enough for only you to hear. you held yourself back from keening into his touch, carefully keeping the inch long distance from his body.

“stand straight, hon. ‘ya can’t hunch when shooting, it’ll mess up your aim.” jake whispers solemnly, adjusting your posture with gentle movements. as he straightened your back, you felt him lean in closer to smooth his hands across your shoulders encouragingly. “now, when yr’ready, take your shot.”

you took a deep breath, ignoring the shiver than ran down your spine as you expertly released the string of the bow. bullseye. the arrow roughly pierced the red dot on the tree, perfectly centred and all. a wave of pride engulfed you as you lowered the bow, looking over your shoulder to gauge jake’s reaction.

his eyes were wide, proudly laughing as he suddenly engulfed you from behind. “holy shit!” jake cheered loudly, rocking your body back and forth as he celebrated your shot. you giggled quietly, allowing yourself to lean back against his embrace for a moment. you were caged in his muscular arms as jake continued to praise your aim, almost in disbelief at how incredible it was.

you were in a state of pure euphoria as jake gleefully clung onto you. while this wasn’t the first time he’d hugged you - this was certainly the most endearing. you nearly melted at his constant praises, immediately feeling a warmth fill your cheek as you flushed insanely. you could get used to this feeling.

he spun your around swiftly, gripping your shoulders tightly as he shook you playfully. “how the hell did ‘ya do that? you’re a natural!”

“it wasn’t that great.” you mutter nervously, glancing up at jake with a flustered expression.

“you kiddin’ me? that was incredible.” jake lauded, that signature smile of his making you grin in return. “god, yr’something else, eh?”

your face was flushed as you stare up at jake, unsure of how else to respond to his words. he seemed to take notice of the tinge of mauve on your cheeks, mistaking it for some sort of heat exhaustion. “you feeling hot?” jake pressed his palm against your forehead, the back of his hand soon checking the temperature of your cheek. “let’s go get you cooled off. you’re burning up, kid.”

these small revelations always pained you. no matter how much you proved yourself to jake, he’d always see you as a bashful, little girl. you couldn’t even enjoy the walk back to camp as he kept his arm snaked around your shoulder — you knew it was all for the sake of protecting you. caring for you. and not in the way you wanted him to.

there had to be some way to show jake you were more than some injured lamb. and even if it meant risking your relationship with him entirely — it would be a leap worth taking. you refused to live with the heavy burden of your feelings anymore.

TAGLIST (i’m tagging those who asked on the masterlist post! if you want to be added, lmk eee)

@wh0rezs @neteyamsb1tch @touchedflowers @rosesinthemoonlightxx @sadredflower0000

[adnauseum11]

Check Point (John Price x Reader)

John makes dinner and you discuss decorating for the holiday.

1.1k words

CW: none - this is pure fluff. (Or is it?)

Feedback welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is also pinned to my blog.

Masterlist

John is like the cat that got the cream the entire next day. He’s never out of reach, not exactly hovering, but staying within arms-length. He eventually talks you into watching football with him, which you do, curled around each other for a few hours. He’s only vaguely sorry about the bruises on your thighs, but mindful of them when jostling with you for position on the couch so you can’t get too annoyed with him. 

He offers to cook dinner, so you occupy yourself by dragging your box of Christmas decorations out. It’s not big, and half of the box are vintage glass ornaments you are too scared to actually hang on a tree, the glass thin and fragile and the ancient wire hangers rusty. You look up at John after carefully setting the vintage ornaments aside, trying to gauge how receptive he would be to going shopping this close to the holidays. His eyes raise off his task to meet yours, like he can feel the weight of your gaze. 

“I don’t have any of the hardware needed to get a tree darling, I think that may have to be a task for next year.” 

John speaks before you can say anything. You press your lips together to keep from smiling at his allusion to next year, something warming in your chest at his easy projection into the future.

“That’s alright, I was actually wondering if you would consider coming shopping with me tomorrow? I shouldn’t be spending more money right now but all my decorations are old and you have approximately…?”  

You hold up your hand to John, indicating he should fill in the blank you have left at the end of your sentence. He understands without having to be prompted. 

“None.”

“Right. Thank you.”

John sighs, going back to his task before replying.

“On a scale of one to ten, how necessary is this shopping? Worth dealing with the crowds?” 

You hum, thinking for a moment while you watch him work. You forget, sometimes, that John is a veteran with trauma. He’s so self-assured and confident that things like busy crowds and loud venues half the time don’t occur to you as potential triggers, just a normal course of life. A part of you knows that the landscape is different for John, last night being a prime example. 

“No, you know what, don’t worry about it. I can go on my own.” 

You cut him some slack, not wanting to put him through unnecessary hardship. That has him looking up at you again though, unexpectedly. He looks like he’s going to say something and then presses his lips together, redirecting himself to rolling a chicken breast around ham and cheese.

You don’t realize he’s still stewing on it until you’re setting up little reindeer figurines made of ceramics along the edge of the island where he’s working. 

“Do I get a say in any of this decorating?”

You look up at him, surprised. His face is serious, tracking your placement of the ceramic deer. 

“How do the deer offend, my lord?” 

You joke, unsure if John’s annoyed with the decorating itself or your choices. He shoots you a look that would probably have anyone else quailing. You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed with his grump and set the deer down in place firmly instead. 

“Don’t give me that look, what’s wrong with Vixen and Blitzen?” 

“Nothing.” He backpedals, but you aren’t having it.

“You wanted a say, let’s hear it then.” 

You gesture with your hand, encouraging him to come out with it. He straightens and looks at you steadily before surprising you again. 

“Why did you uninvite me?”

“Uninvite you? From what? Shopping?” 

You’re grasping at straws, trying to piece together what’s annoyed him about being let off from that particular task.

“Yeah. You asked if I wanted to go and then told me to forget it immediately. Is this because I don’t condone all that glitter?”

You can’t help the swell of affection that squeezes your heart, looking at him frowning down at you. His hands are held aloft, covered in chicken juices but you step into his side and wrap your arms around his waist tightly anyways. The snowman figurine with generous glitter had been a hard no from the former Captain when you had unpacked it. 

“No, it’s because I didn’t think it was fair to ask you to deal with the crowds. Your lack of festive spirit is a separate issue.”

“I can be festive.” He huffs, deflating slightly in your arms. 

“Say it louder so my snowman can hear you.”

He shoots you a look and you smile, patting his ribs before letting him loose again. 

“You can come if you really need to have a say, John. I just didn’t think it was worth putting you through all the hustle and bustle for just a wreath and some knick-knacks.”

“I know you; you say just a wreath and knick-knacks but you’ll be back here with more bags than you can carry if you’re unsupervised.”

That’s a fair point but you’ll be damned before you let John know that you agree. 

“Oh, well if I need saving from myself, I suppose you’re the man for the job.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, casually placing another deer in the line-up. He shakes his head, wisely, focusing back on his work, placing the chicken on a baking tray.

“Trying to save the flat’s limited storage space, love.” 

“Hmm…I suppose I can believe that.” 

You agree easily, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He smiles to himself, carrying on to wash his hands at the sink. You watch him, the strong lines of his back flexing under his old t-shirt as he moves. You can’t help picturing the way his back would look as he moves inside you and feel your belly swoop and face heat at the image it conjures in your mind. He turns to dry his hands and catches you staring, face flushed. He raises his eyebrows at you and tucks his chin, a look you know well as an unspoken question. The slow smile that curls across your face is anything but innocent. 

“How long is the timer set for?”

You can’t help asking, the thrill of teasing John perennial in your life, now with richer rewards for your trouble. He’s able to read your thoughts just as easily as you read him apparently because his answering grin is savage. 

“Long enough.” 

Your feet are moving before he’s finished speaking. 

Next Chapter

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch

Ao3

[mykelneedssleep]

My COD roman empire without fail is watches. I feel like I'm the only person who cares so much about everyone's watches but I don't care, I spend too much time thinking about it. It's one of those character design things that I love. Let me explain

Gaz is the only character we see that wears his watch with the face on the inside of his left wrist. The watch on the left means that he is right-handed. Wearing a watch on the inside of the wrist is relatively common for military personnel because it keeps the watch face from hitting the sun so there's no glint, and it allows you to see the time while holding a gun so it's not shocking that he chooses to wear his like this. Gaz is the only character we see do this though, which is particularly interesting in a team such as the 141 who often deals with counterterrorism and places themselves in low-profile situations. In the game we also never see Gaz covering the position of a sniper, he's always the one in the field. Out of the four of them it would make the most sense for Gaz to be someone who wears his watch on the outside since he is able to move his hands relatively freely in the field so he could easily turn his wrist if he wanted the time, but he doesn't. He makes the choice to wear his watch on the inside.

Price and Soap both wear theirs on the outside of their left wrists. Again, right-handed. Soap follows the same logic as my argument about why Gaz could wear his watch on the outside but he also has the added bonus of doing demolitions work. When working on explosives it's more likely that Soap would be looking at the back of his hands than the palms which would place his watch face in his view. Out of everyone, Soap's watch placement actually makes the most sense.

Again, following the same logic as Gaz but opposite this time because Price is more often than not providing cover as a sniper, which would make the most sense for him to wear his watch on the inside, but, again, he doesn't. Also as the team's captain of all people, he should know the time at all times so that he is able to coordinate things with his team but he has to flip his wrist (taking his hand off his gun) to know the time.

Ghost, I think is the most interesting because he actually wears his watch on the outside of his right wrist. Based on just the position of it I would say that he's left-handed but nothing else about him presents that way. His pistol is holstered on his right leg and when we see him holding one he carries it in his right hand. When he has a larger gun he also holds it right-handed (that is right hand on the trigger) he doesn't present as someone who is left-handed. It's possible that he is ambidextrous and simply shoots as a right-handed person would but we don't get any more evidence of that. Ghost's watch placement actually makes the least sense when you consider that he's usually a sniper, because while Price has to rotate his wrist to see the time there's no way that Ghost can tell time as a sniper because there's no way he's taking his right hand off the trigger to turn his wrist to tell the time. So either he's switching his shooting hand which doesn't make any sense or he simply cannot tell time which also doesn't make sense. There is possibly a backstory reason for why he wears his watch like that but if there is I don't know it and I would really like to because it genuinely bothers me so much.

Farah doesn't wear a watch at all which you would think- similar to Price- as a leader, it would be important for her to know the time but it's not a case of inconvenience she literally has no way of telling the time unless she has some sort of pocket watch or something on her person. She would have to ask someone else, likely Alex (who does wear a watch, outside of the left wrist in case you're wondering because of course I had to check) for the time if she wanted to know.

As far as I am aware we don't see Laswell wearing a watch. It could be that she doesn't wear one or just that we don't see it because almost every time we see her we either don't see her wrist because of the camera shot or she's wearing something that covers her wrist. I can't imagine that someone like Laswell wouldn't know the time at any given moment of the day so I'm just going to assume that she has one and we can't see it. I'm also going to assume that she would wear it on the outside of her left wrist as I believe that she's right handed based on the way we see her pick things up and how she carries her gun. I'm saying likely the outside as well because we often see Laswell on a computer or working on some paperwork which would place the back of her hand upward (same argument I made with Soap) so it would make more sense for her watch to face outside. Laswell is also the most civilian of all of them so she is more likely to follow civilian customs like wearing your watch on the outside.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk please ask me to talk about it more because I will

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

Not So Little Things

Pairings: Sebastian x F!Reader, Imelda x Poppy

Summary: You receive unlikely advice from Imelda about how to focus on the little things in concern to your “overly friendly” boyfriend.

Warnings: kissing, fluff, brief (deserved?) bullying of Leander

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Granted, openly kissing each other in the 1800s at school, in front of teachers, probably wouldn’t realistically happen. But it does in the wizarding world, I’m making it canon. Also, I kind of fell into the grumpy x sunshine trope with Imelda and Poppy and fell in love with it. Enjoy!

“What are you looking at?”

Natty’s voice, warm like honey, washes over you. However, it does nothing to dampen the spark of anger you’re currently nurturing. At first you almost don’t notice her, until she drops her books down rather loudly on the table besides you.

“Oh, hi Natty,” you say absently.

Her brow furrows. “What is with you?”

In lieu of explaining, you motion across fhe Diviation classroom. A horde of other girls in your year surround Sebastian. The room lights up as he smiles, and his adoring fans giggle while he traces the lines in their palms and predicts their future with seasoned showmanship.

A ball of jealousy forms in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve swallowed something unsavory.

He holds their hands so gingerly, the placement of his fingers on the lines of their palm deliberate and earnest. The same fingers that danced across your skin, played with your hair, and now traitorously entertained the likes of those girls.

Your quill snaps in half as your fist tightens.

Quietly, reserving judgement, Natty rummages in her school bag until she finds a spare. “Here,” she says, proffering it.

“Thanks,” you mumble, both sheepish and apologetic.

One of the girls, a pretty redhead, seizes Sebastian’s hand and presses her palm against his so that their fingers are aligned. Of course, his are much larger, and this contends as an incredibly hilarious reason to collapse into another fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Natty says, finally settling in besides you.

Your molars grind furiously together. In response, you manage to hiss back, “Exactly.”

“He’s just a stupid boy.”

“Yeah but he’s my stupid boy.”

Class begins and you’re left to ruminate in your anger. You can barely focus on anything that Professor Onai is saying, and she mercifully deigns not to call on you; it’s undecided how much of that was Natty’s influence, as you swore you saw her jerking her thumb across her neck several times when her mother looked over in your direction.

As class concludes, you shoot to your feet and make an immediate beeline for the door.

“You can’t run from your problems,” Natty calls.

You throw over your shoulder, “Watch me!”

A stream of students envelope you in a facade of isolated safety. Above the din of conversation in the hallway, you hear your name being shouted. Cursing, you hunker your shoulders in a bid to make yourself smaller, but it was no use. You once watched Sebastian chase a first year from one end of the castle to the other just to return a dropped book — if he wanted to talk to you, he would find a way.

He manages to make it within earshot then, slightly breathless, asks, “Are you running away from me?”

“No,” you insist. Trenched in despair, your gaze darts back and forth, searching for a possible exit. “Not so much running, particularly, as just walking very fast in the opposite direction.”

Sebastian growls in frustration.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s elbowing his way closer and closer to you, using his advantageously long strides to close the distance faster then you can create it.

“Y/N, wait.” His hand locks around your wrist and spins you around. You’re merely inches from his face, which makes it just all that much harder to concentrate. He orders, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Um.” You swallow. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Can you please inform what this is we’re doing? You ran out of class like a dragon was on your heels.”

You debate the rationale of hashing out your issues here in the midst of the gallery tower. Preferably, you would go somewhere private, but that would involve telling Sebastian the problem, which furthermore would lead to you staying rooted to the spot, as you couldn’t imagine him agreeing to put a pause to the conversation to find an empty classroom.

You weren’t going to get your way.

Carefully, you pry off Sebastian’s grip on your wrist. “You basically humiliated me in front of the entire class,” you tell him.

Sebastian blinks, confused. “What?”

“You were like…” you wave your hand, as if hoping to magically summon the appropriate word, “seducing those girls and they were falling all over you.”

“First off,” he says, “if I was seducing someone, you would know it. Secondly, I was just being friendly.”

“Yeah, but do they know that?”

Sebastian’s expression, his usual look of bemused ebullience, shifts. A matter of seriousness crosses his face, so quickly and without warning that you might’ve laughed at him otherwise. “Of course they know that. You’re my best girl.”

A fission cracks through your heart.

“I just — I wish you would show it,” you say, although that’s not exactly what you mean. Words are escaping you. Sebastian shows you, but then he also goes and does that with other girls, and it makes your worries surface all over again.

“You don’t think I show it enough?” Hurt flashes across his handsome features.

You run your hands over your face. “Sebastian—what I’m trying to say — the way you acted in class today, nobody would even know that we’re together.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he sharply replies.

Dread swallows you. You know that you’ve just pushed Sebastian very far from you, and there’s little chance in getting him back now.

The hallway has emptied, giving an echo to his words. You resist the urge to cry. You’re not necessarily upset as you are frustrated; frustrated that you feel this way, and frustrated that you’re not communicating it properly.

“Just forget it,” you say, voice wavering. Before he can see the first tear fall, you turn away from him. “Good luck on your match tonight.”

The only sound filling the Feast Hall is that of a kitchen elf, scrubbing the tiles and muttering about inconveniences. He, at least you thought it was a he, probably wouldn’t have shown his face if it wasn’t for the fact that you were the only one there; everyone else had bundled themselves in their warmest clothes and paraded out to the Quiddith pitch for the upcoming Slytherin versus Gryffindor match.

The roar of the stadium reached your ears even from your position, sprawled out on one of the benches in the Feast Hall. You half heartedly took a bite from your cold dinner.

There was a twinge in your chest, a pinch, that you couldn’t seem to ignore.

You’ve never skipped one of Sebastian’s games before. Even before you were together, you went to every single match. And now, here you were, wallowing in your own self pity, too humiliated and heartbroken to muster the strength to go out to the pitch and face him. It wasn’t like you were even going to talk to him, but just the thought of seeing him hurt like a punch to the gut.

From your view on the bench, a familiar Hufflepuff slides into view. “Y/N, are you still here?”

You nod, trying your best not to appear glum. “I’m not feeling well. But you’ll cheer for me, right?”

Poppy makes a face. “You’ll cheer for yourself! I’m not leaving you here all alone. C’mon.”

“Poppy, really, I —”

The smaller girl had already snatched up your hand before you could finish your protest. For someone her size, she was surprisingly strong. She drags you past the kitchen elf, who apparates himself, towards the massive double doors separating the Feast Hall from the rest of the castle. You stumble upon an impatient-looking Imelda leaning, hip and elbow, against a pillar.

“Imelda?” You look between them.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Surely Imelda was waiting for someone else, or perhaps to mock anyone going to the match. Last week, during the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, Imelda had gotten suspended for the rest of the season for punching an opponent.

Despite your theories, however, Poppy breaks every single one by strolling right up to the disgruntled Slytherin and taking her hand. “All ready,” Poppy chirps.

Imelda looks less than thrilled to be holding hands but she doesn’t immediately bite off her head, or even argue. You don’t realize that you’re staring at the two of them in blatant confusion until Imelda returns your stare with a pointed glare.

“Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open like that?” Imelda asks. “We’re already late because Poppy insisted on getting your sorry arse.”

Poppy swats her arm. “Be nice.”

“Um.” You blink. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“It’s something new,” Poppy says.

She beams at Imelda. It’s quite infectious, her enthusiasm, and you find yourself smiling. You never would’ve pictured them together, but now that you were witness to it, it was undeniably adorable.

“Let’s go. All of the good seats are going to be taken and I want that Ravenclaw bitch to see my face again.”

With an indignant sniff, Imelda strides off, Poppy skipping after her like a bouncing puffskein. It’s subtle, but you notice Imelda glance down at Poppy with poorly disguised affection. Ever the traitor, your mind turns to Sebastian.

Even Imelda, the grumpiest person you know, makes it clear that she’s with Poppy.

Why was it so hard for Sebastian?

It’s a quite distance from the castle to the pitch. You shuffle behind Imelda and Poppy, grateful for the latter’s nonstop chattering. You don’t think you could collect your thoughts enough to hold a coherent conversation. Fortunate for you, though, the only person who typically could keep up with Poppy’s talking was Poppy herself.

You’re about a hundred yards from the entrance to the pitch when Poppy spots something in the tall grass and darts off with the vague promise to return shortly.

Your stomach plummets. Unlike Poppy, you don’t enjoy Imelda’s company. Especially today, when you’re already feeling low. Ever since you beat Imelda’s time in the broom trial, she had been painfully short with you.

“Why were you alone? Aren’t you, like, courting Sebastian or something?” Imelda asks, disinterest coloring her tone.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “I am. I just, um, wasn’t feeling well.”

You cough weakly.

Imelda doesn’t respond right away. Her gaze remains fixed straight ahead, undoubtedly tracking Poppy to make sure she doesn’t get lost. Then, she says, “I know we’re not friends, but you don’t have to lie to me. I saw Sebastian in Diviation today.”

You open your mouth to reply but then promptly shut it again. You’re not sure what to say — how many other people noticed?

“Everyone noticed,” she clarifies.

A groan escapes you. Embarrassed, you slap your hands over your face to cover it.

The start of the Quidditch match is preceded by a deafening cheer. You hear the whistle, then peer between your fingers to watch the miniature-looking players rocket into the sky.

Sebastian happened to be quite talented on a broom, but his reckless and competitive nature made you nervous. The stakes of today’s game would only exacerbate his willingness to ensure a win for Slytherin.

“You can’t let it bother you,” Imelda says, bringing you back. Poppy’s head can be seen, popping in and out of the tall grass.

You exhale. “Yeah.”

“I like to say that I know him well enough, considering that we’re on the same team.” Imelda stuffs her chin further into her scarf. The tips of her cheeks are pink. “He’s just one of those infuriating people person who doesn’t realize he’s crossing any boundaries.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you agree hesitantly. “You’re lucky to have Poppy.”

Imelda tears her gaze away from her girlfriend long enough to scowl. “Please. She’s the second biggest flirt in the school. She doesn’t realize it, of course, because she’s just being nice to everyone. But people misinterpret it.”

You consider this.

“How do you handle it?” You ask Imelda.

The Slytherin lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard sometimes. I try to remember that it’s harmless, it’s the little things she does that reassure me.”

“Imelda, Imelda! I found this for you!”

Poppy bursts out of the grass. She has something in her hand, and you don’t know what it is until she steps away from Imelda to admire her work. A bright yellow flower sits in Imelda’s dark hair.

Poppy claps. “I knew it would look so pretty on you and I was right.”

Imelda pointedly glances at you as if to say see.

You find yourself smiling back at her.

The three of you resume your journey to the Quidditch pitch, the colorful tents rippling in the wind along with the four house flags surrounding the stadium at equidistant intervals. Rows and rows of students fill the bleachers, displaying an array of interest in the game. Some were actually invested in quidditch, while others used the game as an excuse to be sociable or avoid homework.

You maneuver through the crowd, mumbling apologies, until Poppy finds who she’s looking for: Natty, Amit, and Ominis are all huddled together, along with Garreth and Leander. Natty waves as you approach.

“Shoo, Leander,” Garreth says. His arms shoot out and he pushes his fellow Gryffindor onto a lower bench, effectively opening up enough room for you, Poppy, and Imelda to sit. Leander concedes, but not without a betrayed look.

There’s a moment of silent confusion as the former students absorb the cheery yellow flower in Imelda’s hair. Amit lifts a crooked finger, “Imelda, is that —”

“Do you value your life, man?” Garreth asks.

Bickering erupts between Amit and Garreth, joined in by Natty and Poppy.

You drown it out by turning your attention towards the ovular field. You instantly search for Sebastian and spot him cruising above the stadium, appearing relaxed, although you know he’s anything but.

“He doesn’t play well when you’re not here, you know,” says Ominis from besides you. He’s drumming his fingers on his knee.

You feel a twinge of regret. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hm,” Ominis replies, unimpressed.

Why did no one believe you?

The announcer bellows, “Gryffindor, two hundred points! Slytherin, still behind at only sixty points!”

Quidditch players arc over your heads, emerald and maroon colored uniforms flapping and inciting a gust of wind. There’s plenty to look at during a game — the Beaters, the Chasers; the crowd; the professors, dressed in house colors and pretending not to care about the score — but you can only watch Sebastian.

Seemingly on a whim, he glides closer to where you are in the student section. His brown eyes meet yours. From your seat, you observe him as his spirits visibly lift, and he smiles.

He races off.

“If you care about me or my pocketbook, you won’t miss anymore games,” Ominis comments. “I bet Garreth ten galleons that Slytherin wins.”

You laugh. “That was your first mistake.”

“Betting on Slytherin?”

“No, against Garreth.”

“Sallow from Slytherin has spotted the golden snitch, and Gryffindor is right on his tail!” The announcer declares, voice ringing loudly. There’s a noticeable shift in interest as the crowd focuses on Sebastian’s emerald colored uniform and the Gryffindor chasing after him.

With your untrained eye, it takes you a moment to spy the snitch. It flickers erratically, flashing in the sun above Gryffindor’s goal posts.

“Go Sebastian!” You yell, cupping your hands over your mouth.

Amit, Natty, and Poppy cheer with you, along with Imelda. Garreth and Leader, starkly opposed, shout encouragements at their Gryffindor seeker. Ominis panic grabs your hand and leans into you as you narrate the game to the best of their abilities. When it gets too loud, he can’t hear the announcer, and prefers anyways to listen to your comments since you focus mainly on Sebastian.

Your voice rises and falls as Sebastian races after the snitch, weaving in and out of the podiums. “He’s close! Oh, he almost got hit by a Bludger!”

Ominis grip tightens. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” you reassure him.

Your narration reaches a crescendo as the snitch disappears behind the stadium, the two seekers hot on its trail. Breath hitching in your throat, you shoot to your feet. If Slytherin loses this game, you were never going to be able to forgive yourself.

Unwittingly, Imelda’s words enter your thoughts.

You had to admit, begrudgingly, that she made sense. You couldn’t change Sebastian, or his tendency to be overly friendly. In fact, it was something you loved about him. It was the small things that mattered.

And, if one thing was clear to you now, it was that despite being upset with his actions, you still loved him dearly and wanted the best for him.

Murmurs rise as the seekers fail to return.

On the field the game continues, albeit somewhat slowly. Everyone is waiting for the snitch to be caught, inevitably changing the tide of the game. You held Ominis’s hand tightly. Slytherin’s only shot at winning was if Sebastian caught the snitch, subsequently preventing Gryffindor and securing the one hundred and fifty points.

Garreth bends over Amit and Natty. “Ready to pay up, Gaunt?”

Ominis’s only response is a gesture that could be considered poor sportsmanship. Normally you would’ve laughed but you’re wound too tightly with nerves, holding you together.

A stream of emerald across the sky, then maroon.

Tension fills the stadium, then —

“Sebastian Sallow from Slytherin has the snitch! One hundred and fifty points are awarded to Slytherin, and they win the match!”

Jumping up and down on your feet, you cheer with the rest of the Slytherins as a roar of excitement rumbles through the stadium. Even the other houses could respect a good match, and an even better play on Sebastian’s behalf.

Laughter erupts as Garreth digs into his robes and then miserably hands Ominis a pouch of galleons.

“Butterbeers on Ominis!” You shout, smiling so wide that it hurts. Besides you, Natty’s eyes widen. “What? Is something —”

Diverting your attention to whatever has claimed hers, you discover Sebastian hovering on his broom only a few feet away.

You’re struck by how unfairly handsome he is. Every time you see him, it’s like the first time all over again; a hand reaches into your chest and squeezes your heart.

The wind has ruffled his hair and pinkened his freckled cheeks. His shoulders heave, either from excitement or exertion, but he’s never looked happier than he does now. You know how much he loves Quidditch and how undoubtably thrilled he is about winning the match.

He prompts his broom forward.

Sebastian eclipses your vision, turning so that he’s sideways in front of you, still straddling the broom. He smells deliciously of sweat and the freshly cut grass on the field, and something else; fire, your brain decides in a haze, the danger of an opened flame but warm and safe like a hearth.

His brown eyes twinkle. “This,” he says, grinning broadly, “is how you know I’m seducing someone.”

In a fluid move, Sebastian scoops one hand behind your head to cradle it, then pulls you close and presses his lips to yours. A cry of delight breaks out as he deepens the kiss. For you, however, the rest of the world falls away, and all you can focus on is pouring yourself into this boy. You try to impart your apology, your forgiveness, your love for him, and you can taste on his lips that he understands.

Another shriek of approval echoes as he triumphantly pumps his fist into the air as he continues to kiss you with unabashed abandon, holding up the golden snitch. Finally he pulls away as a few professors start to protest, but instead of looking ashamed he looks even more exhilarated than before.

You grin wildly at each other.

He’s swept away by his teammates, then, and you watch his retreating form as he celebrates.

Your friends and several strangers pat you on the back and congratulate you for the kiss, making you blush. Imelda is last, the yellow flower still sitting in her dark hair. “Maybe with Sebastian it’s just not so little things.”

[courtingchaos]

Interruption

A/N: You get a graphic so you know what I’m referencing. It’s just some fluff about putting makeup on Eddie 💋. Also, listen to this while reading. It’s what prompted it.

“You’re only allowed to stay in here if you stop pinching my ass, Ed.”

“You keep leaning over the counter, what do you want me to do?” He’s sitting on the toilet lid watching you do your makeup, choosing the most opportune time of eyeliner placement, to pinch your butt through your soft shorts.

“You could have done it when I was putting on my foundation, not when I have wood near my eye.”

“I can put some wood near your eye.”

“Jesus christ…”

He leans his chin onto his folded up hands on the countertop to look up at you. “You love me.”

“Yeah, but right now I’m about to donkey kick you.” Dragging the liner across your eyelid you can see him moving slowly toward you. “I’m serious. Pinch me and you’re gonna end up with a face full of makeup.”

His hand shoots out and he pinches you a few times in succession. You stare at him while he does it, tongue poking out of his mouth.

“So, do you want me to do your make up?”

He won’t look up at you instead keeping his fingers wound up in the fabric of your shorts.

“Maybe.” Suddenly bashful. Awfully quiet. That bouncing energy snuffed out in favor of nuzzling his cheek into his own hand still laying on the counter. “Nothin’ crazy. I just can’t ever get the eyeliner worked out.” His fingers move to the curled hem of your shorts to tug lightly and you feel your fondness for him grow another root.

“Baby, I can do it for you if you want.”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“I mean…you kind of already did that.” You smile down at him. He gives you a half nod of agreement and drops the hand tooling with your shorts. “So what are you looking for?”

“Something simple I think?”

“We leaning more Simmons or more Snider?”

“Jesus, neither. Too much.”

You consider him for a moment, tapping your pencil against your chin. You picture his big brown eyes in dark winged liner, grey smudged up under his eyebrows. A brush of blush up his cheeks. You could define those and the sides of his nose and really give him that chiseled look. You’re already subconsciously digging through your cosmetics bag for your Fire and Ice tube; you picture that blue toned red on his soft lips and you’ve made up his mind for him. There’s a merging of the cover from an old Hit Parader magazine you have hidden from Eddie and, well, Eddie.

“How do you feel about going the Tommy Lee direction?” You ask finally and Eddie gives you a grimace. He curls his lip at you and groans. “Unfortunately, yeah. I think so.”

“Perfect.”

He sits still while you work. Lets you do foundation and bronzer and blush and only asks questions in between your movements.

“Is this how much you use?”

“Let me smell that.”

“These brushes are soft.”

“That tickles, how do you do this every day?”

“Sit. Still.” You warn him, standing over him with his knees between yours. “I don’t want to poke your eye out.” You sharpen your eyeliner to a point and then grab his face to tilt it. “Close your eye.”

He keeps looking at you for a second while you stand close before he obliges and you use your thumb to pull his eyelid taut.

“You want a wing or you want it smoked?”

“Whatever you’d like.” He says in a hushed tone before pressing a dry kiss to your wrist. You watch him stay as still as he can under you, his half smile warm and relaxed. You take your time with drawing on the wing, making sure to not catch his long lashes. His eyelids twitch under the unfamiliar pressure but you go gently. You’ve got his head titled up so you can see better in the bathroom lighting and his breath breezes over your neck. He brings his hands up behind your thighs slowly so you don’t jump, just to rest them there while you lean over his face. You get the liner done and he stays leaned back but peeks out at you from low lids.

“Ah, not yet.” You drop the liner and dig around for your little quad set of grey shadows. “I got this and lipstick left.” You hold the little plastic case up with the tube of lipstick.

“Lipstick too?”

“You said you wanted makeup, I’m giving you makeup.” You rub your thumb into the shimmery grey and smudge it under the front of his eyebrow in the divot there. He pinches his eyebrows close when you do that, huffing through his nose.

“Oh you’re fine.” You drop the shadow and move to open your lipstick but he opens his eyes and looks up at you with shining eyes. His hands grip a little tighter on your thighs and you take a deep breath.

“You have such pretty eyes.” You push his hair back, dragging your thumb over his forehead.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously. Got them big ‘ol cow eyes.” A kiss on the tip of his nose. “Big brown cosmos.” Another kiss between his brows. “What secrets are you hiding in there? Hm?” Two light kisses on the crinkled outer corners of his eyes so you don’t disturb his makeup. Eddie laughs, his cheeks pinker than the blush you’d brushed on.

“Stop.”

“What?” You run your hands into his hair to hold him back. “Telling the truth? Do you want me to lie Eddie?”

“No but…”

“Is it because I used pretty?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t make contact with you again, instead choosing to stare at the plain white shower curtain. “No, pretty is fine.”

“You are though.” You give his head a little wiggle so he looks at you again. “Pretty. Especially your eyes.”

He keeps blushing and laughing quietly, a small pinch in his smile that makes you keep going.

“I’m serious. All you gotta do is flash those cry baby eyes at me and I’ll do whatever you need.”

“Pfft, sure.”

“You wanna try it out, sucker? Ask me anything.”

He searches your face full of glee before he makes his eyes big and round, a little pout on his lips.

“Will you pretty please finish this makeup so I can look?” He says in a rarely used baby voice. You gasp comically loud and pop open the lipstick with your thumb.

“For you baby? Anything.” You make your voice low and husky on the ‘anything’. Pinch his cheeks between your fingers so he’ll purse his lips and he makes like a goldfish and makes kissy noises while you try to smooth on the bright red lipstick.

It’s a feat for sure and you only have to wipe away a few mistakes but you lean back finally and observe your work, his face still pinched between your fingers.

“Can I look now?” He mumbles.

“Let me fix your hair.” You rake it back down his forehead and fluff up the crown of his head to try and get that hair sprayed look. “Okay. Don’t laugh, I’ve never done makeup on a boy before.”

He spins up off the toilet lid to grab the counter and stare closely at himself. You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve made him look like a clown. His eyes zoom around all corners of his face and he pokes and prods at newly painted skin. He moves his head around to different angles and when he looks down his nose you bite your lips between your teeth to hold in an excited whine.

He looks like the cover of that Hit Parader. Eyes half lidded, mouth open on a slight grin.

You’d die if Eddie found your small stash of Motley Crue posters, but he’s giving you a pretty solid copy of Tommy Lee and you have to hold your hands together to stop from groping him.

“Do you like it?” You whisper behind your clasped hands. Eddie raises his eyebrows and looks at you in the mirror over his shoulder.

“Did you make me look like that magazine shoved under your mattress?” The way your face falls makes him laugh and turn around. “Oh baby, it’s okay! They’re pretty I get it!” You try to back up but the door stops you and Eddie gets his arms wrapped around you so he can smush you into his chest.

“Eddie! Why are you digging around my room!” You yell into his shirt and he just laughs at your minor distress.

“I was looking for a vibrator that I’m sure you have and I found your dirty secrets in that shoebox.” He shifts side to side rocking the two of you while you pound weakly on his chest with your trapped fists. “Motley Crue and Poison? What terrible taste in music!”

“It’s not the music it’s the men in lipstick! I was weak! I am weak!” You wail, still pounding.

“I know baby, pretty boys in eyeliner.” He places a fat kiss on your cheek, leaving a big red lip print. “Oh now that’s pretty.” He gives you another one next to that and when you start laughing he starts pecking around your face until you look like a bugs bunny cartoon. “All you need are little hearts coming off your head and I’ve got a whole Tex Avery cartoon to myself.” He laughs and you slap his shoulder.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good.”

He walks you into the door and you run the tip of your thumb along the feathered edge of his lips.

“Do you like it enough to let me make a mess of it?” Your thumb pulls his lip down to create a smear of red down his chin.

Eddie gets a look in his eye. “Are you trying to Kickstart My Heart?” He can barely make it through his terrible pun without laughing and you groan like you’re in physical pain.

“Please get the fuck out of my house.”

“Nope, I’m Dr. Feelgood and I’m here to make you feel alright.”

“That wasn’t even good!”

Eddie shuts you up with a kiss, lipstick sliding over your bare lips and you forget about his teasing. When he turns you back to the counter and helps you sit on the edge he wedges himself between your thighs and gets in your space, breath mingling with yours. His eyes flick down to your lips to survey his smeared damage.

“That color looks good on you.”

“It looks good on you too.”

“I think it’d look good in other places too.” He wiggles his eyebrows and leans in to attack your neck and if he spends the next hour leaving red marks in hard to reach places, that’s between you and him and your hidden posters.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[veronika-tserber]

🍰 Astro Bite: 3 Things You Need to Know About the "Bowl" Chart Shape

If only half of your chart (~180°) is filled with planets and the rest is empty, you likely have a "Bowl" chart shape. Here are 5 things you need to know about it.

1. ᴘᴏʟᴀʀɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ "ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ"

This chart pattern shows an imbalance in your psyche. You are likely to feel a certain level of internal pressure and restlessness. You can have the sense that a part of you is missing, and you need to find your "other half".

Normally, we use this phrase in terms of relationships, but it doesn't have to be about you being a love addict - it mostly depends on which half of your chart is empty:

Left Half - you feel the need to develop a stronger sense of identity and take care of your own needs

Right Half - you want to learn more about other people and their needs

Lower Half - you feel called to become more introspective and find a sense of internal stability and emotional fulfillment

Upper Half - you want to put yourself out there and develop your public persona, goals, and ambitions

2. ᴏᴠᴇʀᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

There is something called an "arrow" area which astrologers calculate to analyze the Bowl. We take a look at the center of the filled half and then, we shoot an imaginary arrow to the opposite point.

The arrow area shows us what exactly you will struggle with the most in life, and what is stirring a lot of pressure and insecurity in you. The paradox is that you might actually be quite active and even outwardly successful in this area since you will feel driven to compensate for your lack of confidence in it by developing related skills and learning more about it.

However, you aren't likely to achieve lasting inner peace by doing that. The key to your contentment lies in the planets at the "edges" of the Bowl - they are the closest to the missing half and thus, have the strongest connection to it.

3. ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ

You are likely to struggle to perceive reality in a holistic way. Your thinking is likely to be more subjective. Again, it depends on which half of your chart is empty:

Left Half - you can be prone to put other people's needs before yours and worry too much about what they think and want; possible issues with self-confidence

Right Half - you can be too independent and concerned with your own needs and desires, which can cause issues in your relationships

Lower Half - you are likely to be more extroverted and take other people's opinions too seriously; you can be too focused on material reality and external achievements

Upper Half - you are likely to be an introvert who is predominantly driven by your emotions and instincts; you can struggle to see how your actions and personality affect other people.

Note: Everything that we struggle with can be subject to overcompensation. My advice is to always consider both polarities of a placement, and study it. E.g., if the lower half of your chart is empty, but you find that you are a hardcore introvert, it can be because you are overcompensating for the lack of internal stability and emotional fulfillment that you feel.

All and all, this is one of the most interesting chart shapes (patterns) to look at, and as you can see, there are plenty of things we can analyze in it.

If you aren't sure about whether or not your chart is a Bowl, you can send me a screenshot of it via the ask box or DM, and I'll help you out!

- Foxbørn

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 1

ᴄʜᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ

ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ?

[spyderlondon]

Could you try and write a complete triad poly ship (where all parties feel love for each other) with Jax Caine and Pomni?

Maybe one where Caine has just a terrible day dealing with the developers of the game giving him grief and he is just going through it, so Pomni and Jax decide to spend an entire evening doing their absolute best to make their boyfriend feel better (could be spicy could be fluffy…it could be BOTH…whatever you pick!)

If this sounds too cringey tho you can skip it 😅

A/N: Never done a polyship before and *definitely* never even thought about this ship before! But, hey, I'll try it! Not gonna be anything like Scarlet's XD

Dance the Night Away

------

"Caine! Are you even attempting to get those humans freed?!?" The co-CEO, Adam, snapped at his AI creation who was currently floating around silently, frowning in irritation.

A woman, the co-CEO and co creator of Caine, Eve sighed, "Look, Caine, we know you're doing your best to keep the humans' spirits high but maybe we should send in your brother?" She suggested more gently than her husband, "His been able to keep the game he's in from going insane or even trapped, in general."

"NO!" That made the AI stop floating around and shoot straight up to the screen, slamming his hand against it as he actually became a bit disheveled in his anger. The way he reacted made the developers jump back before beginning to mumble to each other about if Caine was the right for this game or not. The ringmaster went silent as he watched and listened before gripping his cane tight in his frustration and floated backwards, "...please give me more time. I'll figure something out."

Eve and Adam looked at each other before letting out a sigh, "Three months, Caine." The man responded, "If you can't successfully make an exit then we're sending your brother in." He warned before turning off the meeting but not before the AI heard the developer mutter under his breath to his wife, "Able was always the better iteration..."

----

"POMNI! JAX!!!" Ragatha yelled out angrily after she slipped on a bar of soap that slid her straight into a net awaiting the arrival of a victim to enter its trap.

Jax's ears perked up and his smirked widened in pride as he highfived his girlfriend as they both stared up at the ragdoll that was struggling in the trap up high in the air. The rabbit snickered, "That was a nice soap placement, Poms~" He grinned the jester, "Too bad our favorite ringmaster was too busy to join us."

"You know he doesn't enjoy these pranks as much as us, Jax." The girl leaned back, ignoring the shouts and scoldings from the woman above her, "Besides, he said that he had some important meeting with the developers that created him- those usually drain him." She sighed, placing a hand against her cheek.

Jax hummed as he rubbed his chin in thought, "We should do something for him once he returns. Something special to cheer the guy up." He mentioned, glancing at the jester, "It would suck if we were the only two in this relationship to be happy." He kicked his foot a little.

Pomni glanced over with a head tilt, "I agree but what exactly would you suggest we do? A special adventure for just the three of us?" She offered with a light hum.

"You got it, chick!" He grinned as headed off in a direction, "Could you ask Ribbons if she could design some ballroom attire for the three of us?" He requested, "I want to get our 'adventure' set up as a surprise for him. Meet me in the forest after a bit, okay?"

"Wait! Jax!" She called after him, "How will he know where to find us??" She questioned.

"Oh. Good question." He stopped in his tracks and tapped his chin in thought before chuckling as he looked at the trapped Ragatha, "Ya don't mind letting our boyfriend know where to find us once he frees you, do ya, doll?" He smirked at her.

The ragdoll glared at the rabbit, "If I didn't think what you two were doing was so sweet, I'd say no in instant but..." She sighed in defeat, she couldn't help but be weak to kind gestures like that, "...fine." She grumbled as she crossed her arms.

"Appreciate it, doll!" With that, Jax and Pomni ran off in different directions.

Although, Pomni paused to look at Ragatha, "Sorry about leaving you trapped..." She mumbled, always the only one of the two that had a tinge of regret for making the others mad. Not much since she started learning from Jax but some.

The rag doll sighed, "Oh, it's alright. I know he's been doing this more often to keep you happy and calm... It's annoying but rather he wants to admit it or not- he has good intentions. At least towards you and Caine. That's enough for me."

That made the jester smile before running off to find Gangle.

----

Caine took a moment to breathe and relax out of bounds- just being reminded of his 'younger brother' irritated him more than anyone or anything else. He closed his eyes for a moment as he forced a happy face on- he couldn't let his circus troupe see him all angry like this. He took one more breath before teleporting into the main with a grin on his face as always.

Only to stop as he saw the trapped Ragatha, "...Jax and Pomni?" He guessed rather easily with a flat tone,

"Yuuup." She deadpanned in response. She grunted as she fell out of the net and hit the ground, "Oww... Thank you, Caine..." She rubbed her butt as she stood up.

"Where are my two troublemakers anyways?" The pair of dentures questioned as he looked around, surprised not to hear anymore pranks being played on Gangle or Zooble.

Ragatha gave herself moment to pat herself off before responding, "In the forest, waiting for you." She shrugged, "Said something about some type of surprise."

"Surprise? Huh..." He didn't wait for her to explain more as he prepared to teleport away-

"Waaaait! Caine!" A young girl yelled out to him, making him freeze and look over at the red, silky ribbons that ran over to him- her comedy mask miraculously still intact.

He floated over to Gangle, "Why, yes, my dear? You need something?" He tilted his jaw before noticing the dark red suit with a dark purple flower in the blue and red striped lapel being held out to him, "...is that for me? Why?" He blinked taking the suit in confusion.

"Pomni asked me to make you a suit that went along with dress and Jax's own suit." She explained as he snapped his fingers and the suit was now on his body, replacing his ringmaster outfit.

Caine stared at the suit in a mirror he conjured up from thin air and grinned, "Gangle! This is magnificent! You truly outdone yourself this time, my dear!" He praised happily, "My! I can't wait to see what you made for Jax and Pomni!" He teleported away to the forest quickly, not wanting to show how he exhausted he felt by playing into his normal, excited persona.

----

The first thing he heard when he entered the forest was some music that he could tell was a waltz song and a bit of girlish giggling as well as a deep chuckle he recognized from a certain purple bunny. He floated nearby, behind a tree to see that the two of them were dancing to the music. Jax wore a soft, vulnerable smile that he reserved only for Pomni and himself which made the tension he felt begin to melt away.

He examined their outfits as the danced- not wishing to interrupt yet. Jax was wearing a dark purple suit with red and blue lapels like Caine's had but the flower was red like Caine's normal ringleader jacker; while Pomni wore a blue and red dress that went down to her knees with a piece of dark red fabric wrapped around her waistline and a light purple flower in her hair. The pair of dentures almost swooned at how good they both looked but stayed silent.

The song slowed to a stop with Jax dipping Pomni low before kissing her gently on the lips, making her giggle more. She always did enjoy it when either men dipped her like that. They paused as they noticed a certain AI floated behind the trees before they both laughed.

The rabbit moved away from the jester and changed the song to a tango, "Mind if I go first, doll?" He asked her with a grin.

"Go right ahead, sir~" She chuckled softly, gesturing to the trees.

The rabbit was quick to hop over to the ringleader and pulled him out from behind the tree, "C'mon, handsome! Your turn!" He smirked at him as he immediately began to dance the tango with the smaller man.

Caine blinked before laughing a bit as he changed his height to be barely shorter than Jax, making the dance far easier on both of them.

Jax didn't seem to mind, just happy to have his dancing partner, but Pomni's jaw fell, "You can do that???" She let out a gasp in surprise.

The ringmaster laughed a bit but this time both of his partners could hear the hoarseness of it but neither said a word, only making a mental note, "Well, I can do anything in this realm, Pomni." He answered as the rabbit brought him flush against his chest which made him flustered, "I-I do this to help me be closer to our boyfriend." He cleared his throat as he looked up at the man that suddenly kissed the top of his jaw, making him blush.

Jax chuckled, "C'mon, Ringmaster~ Keep your eyes on me~" He purred as he tilted his chin up, "She'll have her turn next~" He grinned at him, kissing him again to keep his focus on him. The rabbit smirked as he saw the man he was dancing with basically melt in his arms.

Pomni sat on a tree stump with a warm smile, enjoying the dance between her boyfriends as she hummed along with the song.

A few minutes passed and next thing Pomni knew, she was suddenly floating in the air as her, now back to normal height, AI boyfriend began to dance a foxtrot with her with Jax turning the music onto a fitting song.

The jester smiled as Caine and her danced in the air while the ringmaster began to kiss her neck gently to make her giggles increase in volume- it was music to his non-existent ears! He knew Jax loved hearing the giggles just as much so he showed her no mercy!

----

Once the dancing ended, the three of them sat on that surrounded a small fire that Caine created for them and began to roast marshmallows to make s'mores with. The rabbit and jester knew something was up but neither of them asked, they knew better that Caine wouldn't tell them. Not because he didn't trust them but because it hurt him too much.

They didn't mind. They were just happy that their mission to cheer up their boyfriend was a success.

[x-heesy]

Our whole system is very very wrong 😑

Europe is lost, America lost, London lost

Still we are clamouring victory

All that is meaningless rules

We have learned nothing from history

The people are dead in their lifetimes

Dazed in the shine of the streets

But look how the traffic's still moving

System's too slick to stop working

Business is good, and there's bands every night in the pubs

And there's two for one drinks in the clubs

And we scrubbed up well

Washed off the work and the stress

And now all we want's some excess

Better yet, a night to remember that we'll soon forget

All of the blood that was bled for these cities to grow

All of the bodies that fell

The roots that were dug from the earth

So these games could be played

I see it tonight in the stains on my hands

The buildings are screaming

I can't ask for help though, nobody knows me

Hostile, worried, lonely

We move in our packs and these are the rights we were born to

Working and working so we can be all that we want

Then dancing the drudgery off

But even the drugs have got boring

Well, sex is still good when you get it

To sleep, to dream, to keep the dream in reach

To each a dream, don't weep, don't scream

Just keep it in, keep sleeping in

What am I gonna do to wake up?

I feel the cost of it pushing my body

Like I push my hands into pockets

And softly I walk and I see it, this is all we deserve

The wrongs of our past have resurfaced

Despite all we did to vanquish the traces

My very language is tainted

With all that we stole to replace it with this

I am quiet

Feeling the onset of riot

Riots are tiny, though

Systems are huge

Traffic keeps moving, proving there's nothing to do

'Cause it's big business, baby, and its smile is hideous

Top down violence, and structural viciousness

Your kids are dosed up on medical sedatives

But don't worry 'bout that, man, worry 'bout terrorists

The water level's rising! The water level's rising!

The animals, the elephants, the polarbears are dying!

Stop crying, start buying, but what about the oil spill?

Shh, no one likes a party pooping spoil sport

Massacres, massacres, massacres, new shoes

Ghettoised children murdered in broad daylight

By those employed to protect them

Live porn streamed to your pre-teens' bedrooms

Glass ceiling, no headroom

Half a generation live beneath the breadline

Oh, but it's happy hour on the high street

Friday night at last lads, my treat!

All went fine 'til that kid got glassed in the last bar

Place went nuts, you can ask our Lou

It was madness, road ran red, pure claret

And about them immigrants? I can't stand them

Mostly, I mind my own business

They're only coming over here to get rich, it's a sickness

England! England! Patriotism!

And you wonder why kids want to die for religion?

It goes work all your life for a pittance

Maybe you'll make it to manager, pray for a raise

Cross the beige days off on your beach babe calendar

The anarchists are desperate for something to smash

Scandalous pictures of fashionable rappers

In glamourous magazines, who's dating who?

Politico cash in an envelope

Caught sniffing lines off a prostitutes prosthetic tits

Now it's back to the House of Lords with slapped wrists

They abduct kids who fuck the heads of dead pigs

But him in a hoodie with a couple of spliffs

Jail him, he's the criminal

Jail him, he's the criminal

It's the bored-of-it-all generation

The product of product placement and manipulation

Shoot 'em up, brutal, duty of care

Come on, new shoes, beautiful hair, bullshit

Saccharine ballads and selfies and selfies and selfies

And here's me outside the palace of me

Construct a self and psyhcosis

Meanwhile the people were dead in their droves

And no, nobody noticed, well, some of them noticed

You could tell by the emoji they posted

Sleep like a gloved hand covers our eyes

The lights are so nice and bright and let's dream

But some of us are stuck like stones in a slipstream

What am I gonna do to wake up?

We are lost, we are lost, we are lost

And still nothing will stop, nothing pauses

We have ambitions and friendships and our courtships to think of

Divorces to drink off the thought of

The money, the money, the oil

The planet is shaking and spoiled

And life is a plaything

A garment to soil

The toil, the toil

I can't see an ending at all

Only the end

How is this something to cherish?

When the tribesmen are dead in their deserts

To make room for alien structures

Develop, develop

And kill what you find if it threatens you

No trace of love in the hunt for the bigger buck

Here in the land where nobody gives a fuck

Europe Is Lost by Kae Tempest

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl: January

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwritesrwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

January

“Don’t pull,” Joel instructed. “Just squeeze.”

Still unused to the kick and noise, you hesitated on the follow-through, and the first shot only winged the target. After he reminded you of your stance and hand placement, you aimed and fired again. The second bullet had been much closer to the mark, and the third better still.

After you popped off the remaining rounds, Joel complimented your progress, and gave you some additional tips on your handling and timing. You were a fast learner; he knew you’d only improve with time and practice, and after he’d reloaded and returned the gun to you, you went again, and hit the target five out of seven rounds.

“Ready to move onto something with a bit more firepower?” Joel asked as he dumped the shells.

“Go big or go home,” you laughed.

Ellie smiled and nudged your shoulder, “You going to be patrolling regularly?”

You shook your head, “I don’t think so. But I want to be ready to fill in - just in case.”

As you and Ellie chatted, Joel prepped his Mossberg 500. While he loaded, he wondered if you’d ever had to shoot your way out of a bad situation, if you’d ever needed to defend yourself in the ways Ellie had, or if you’d been forced to do other things - like some of the things he’d done - in order to survive.

He’d never bothered to ask if you’d taken out a clicker or killed a human being before - not that it would’ve mattered, or changed the way he felt about you. After all, he’d done more than his fair share of killing and had no right to judge anyone. Since the threat of violence always simmered just beneath the surface, knowing how to shoot was not only smart, it was a valuable, life-saving skill Joel thought everyone should learn.

Especially you.

“I like my knife,” Ellie stated as she showed it off. “Saved my ass many times, but after I learned how to shoot - well, I just feel safer now, you know?”

You made a noise of agreement, “I get it.”

He handed the shotgun over to Ellie, and after he advised you to cover your ears, she fired off a few. There was a significant difference between the Taurus Model 66 (his preferred weapon of choice) and a pump action. By having Ellie demonstrate, he hoped you’d feel more confident trying it, and be prepared to practice with and use a rifle in future. After Ellie emptied it, he took the shotgun apart, explained the innerworkings, and guided you through cleaning, reassembly, and loading.

By the time you finished putting it back together, it had gotten too dark to continue on with target practice, so, he called an end to the lesson for the day. After the weapons had been checked back in and secured in the town’s armory, the three of you left the makeshift shooting range, and walked to the mess hall for dinner. Ellie had been quick to ditch you both in favor of her friends, and after Joel followed you through the chow line for his serving of spaghetti and salad, he took a seat on the bench across from you at the table.

“So, you gonna tell me the real reason why you wanna learn how to shoot?” he asked.

You picked up your fork and knife, “I told you why.”

“I offered to teach you last year,” Joel replied as he rested his forearms on the table. “You refused - said you weren’t comfortable with it. What’s changed?”

While you looked down at your plate and stabbed at your leafy greens, he stared at you and willed you to speak. You’d been weird and standoffish since Christmas. In fact, Joel would go so far as to say you’d done a spectacular job of avoiding him almost entirely, and he’d grown tired of it.

“You gonna talk to me?” he prodded. “Or am I only your friend when you need somethin’?”

You jerked your head up. Slammed your fork down. Mirrored his posture. Gaze now completely direct and full of fire, you asked him when he learned and who’d taught him.

“I grew up in Texas. Was practically born with a rifle in my hand,” he shrugged. “Dad taught me when I turned seven, maybe eight. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, I used to be a trust fund brat, remember? And the only thing my parents ever taught me was how to be seen and not heard,” you snapped back lowly. “So, when the world went to shit, what do you think happened to me and girls like me? Huh?”

Joel knew some things about your past, about your life from before. Over a few too many at the bar one night, you’d compared battle scars. Swapped some of the grittier war stories. Neither of you had gone too deep into the weeds, though, because the pain had been too raw, and you’d both wanted to think about other things. You told him you’d lost your entire family the first night, that you’d seen unimaginable horrors since then, but he’d hoped such horrors hadn’t been inflicted on you.

After a stretch of silence, you cleared your throat, and kicked up your chin, “I don’t want pity, alright? I just… It’s well past time I learned how to protect myself.”  

He nodded, “Whatever you need.”

You sat up straighter and reached for your fork, “And I’m sorry for avoiding you. With everything that’s happened… Well, I’m an absolute shitshow and not really the best company right now.”  

Joel tentatively reached out and placed a hand on your forearm, “Hey, there’s nothin’ to be sorry for. And I’d rather see the shitshow than have you lower the curtain on me.”

“You want to see the drama unfold?” you snorted.

He smirked. Squeezed gently. You sighed and placed your hand over his. Joel looked at you and you looked at him, and without saying a word, you understood each other. It just flowed between you, effortless and uncomplicated. Many things had been left unsaid, but it was as if you both knew those things didn’t need to be said all at once. Time was not guaranteed and life was even shorter and more precious, but there wasn’t any rush to rake up the past just yet.

Especially not when there was a present and a future to be considered.

“You got time tomorrow for another lesson?” Joel wondered.

You took a bite of salad and thought for a moment before you spoke, “Morning’s free.”

He twirled some spaghetti and brought it toward his mouth, “I’ll meet you at your place.”

Having aired it out, conversation flowed freer and supper went down easier. A half hour later, he checked in with Ellie, who was still in the thick of it with her friends. With a promise that she’d be home in an hour, Joel offered to walk you to your place, and you accepted.

“Listen, uh, do you have anything at home?” he wondered, eyes on the icy ground and hands shoved in deep in his pockets. “Something to protect yourself with?”

“Broken baseball bat,” you said as you yanked on your hat and sidestepped a snow mound. “And dull kitchen knives. Those count?”

Joel didn’t have it in him to tell you that they didn’t count for much. That when it came down to it, you’d probably only have one chance to hit or stab someone - especially if that someone was faster and bigger than you. And if you were taken by surprise, overpowered, or knocked out cold, those weapons could be taken from you and used against you. At least with a gun and decent aim, you’d stand a chance of either scaring a would-be attacker off or wounding them bad enough to get away.

“Why do you ask?” you prompted.  

Joel glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were alone before he spoke again.

“I know it’s against town policy to keep firearms in our homes,” he voiced quietly. “But I have two hidden away. One is a nine-millimeter. You could handle it. And it’s yours - if you want it.”

You nodded, “I’ll take it.”

It wasn’t until your house came into view that you gently grabbed his elbow and pulled him to a stop. Snowflakes drifted, landed on the hood of your coat, and you practically vibrated with shivers. The icy wind aggravated his nose, and his fingers felt as if they’d gone numb, but he didn’t dare move - not with you so close, and especially not when you placed your mitten-covered hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmured.  “Night, Joel.”

Joel dipped his chin. Bid you goodnight as well. Watched you climb the stairs and go inside before he turned around and headed in the opposite direction.  

He was warm all the way home.

Next Chapter: February