#United in Gravel

[bikeaospedacos]

Shimano Revela novos pedais GRX em ‘edição limitada’, com grafismo da campanha ‘United in Gravel’

Os novos pedais GRX SPD M8100-UG da Shimano são uma edição limitada celebrando o Gravel, garantindo desempenho e confiabilidade.

[gugu-plum]

starting a new arknights acc for the novelty of maleknighting. i thought i got lucky because mountain arrived from beginner banner because i've always wondered how easy my arknights early game will be with him... but

...i end up missing fedex instead lol. his role compression is just so great for new accounts (or restricted meme strats?) like if mountain is a good laneholder at e1, fedex is already good at e0. literally straight out of the box. maybe i'm just biased 😓

[abacuspg]

Top Resin Bound Gravel for Playgrounds | Abacus Playgrounds

Introduction: Why Choose Resin Bound Gravel?

When it comes to creating safe and durable playground surfaces, resin bound gravel stands out as a superior choice. This innovative material combines aesthetics with functionality, making it a preferred option for playgrounds and other outdoor spaces. At Abacus Playgrounds, the UK's leading provider of safety surfacing, we specialize in installing resin bound gravel that meets high standards of quality and safety.

What is Resin Bound Gravel?

Resin bound gravel is a type of surfacing that integrates natural gravel with a clear resin binder. This process results in a smooth, durable surface that is both visually appealing and highly functional. Unlike traditional gravel surfaces, resin bound gravel creates a seamless finish without loose stones, reducing the risk of tripping and ensuring a safer play environment for children.

Advantages of Resin Bound Gravel for Playgrounds

Safety and Durability: One of the primary benefits of resin bound gravel is its safety features. The smooth surface minimizes the risk of injuries caused by loose stones or uneven ground. Additionally, the resin binding agent ensures the gravel remains securely in place, even under heavy foot traffic and various weather conditions.

Low Maintenance: Resin bound gravel requires minimal maintenance compared to other surfacing options. The durable nature of the material means it can withstand harsh weather conditions without deteriorating, making it a cost-effective choice in the long run.

Aesthetic Appeal: With a wide range of colors and finishes available, resin bound gravel allows for creative design options that can enhance the visual appeal of playgrounds. This versatility ensures that the surfacing can complement various themes and styles, creating an inviting and attractive play area.

Eco-Friendly Option: Resin bound gravel is an environmentally friendly choice as it is made from natural materials and helps with rainwater drainage. The permeable nature of the surface allows water to flow through, reducing runoff and contributing to sustainable water management practices.

Why Choose Abacus Playgrounds?

At Abacus Playgrounds, we pride ourselves on our expertise in providing high-quality resin bound gravel surfaces. As the UK's top safety surfacing provider, our team ensures that every installation meets the highest standards of safety and durability. We work closely with clients to tailor solutions that fit their specific needs, guaranteeing a playground surface that not only meets but exceeds expectations.

Conclusion: Invest in Quality with Resin Bound Gravel

Choosing resin bound gravel for your playground surfaces offers numerous benefits, including enhanced safety, low maintenance, and aesthetic versatility. With Abacus Playgrounds' expertise, you can be confident that your playground will feature a top-notch surface that ensures both functionality and visual appeal. Invest in resin bound gravel today and create a safer, more attractive play area for children.

Contact Us Call 01332 287 410

[headspace-hotel]

Tree stuff

Most trees should outlive you. If a landscaper tells you the lifespan of a tree is 10 years, they don't know what they're talking about.

Trees are free. Carefully comb over your yard for baby trees, especially in mid-spring!

Similarly, If you live near a gravel driveway or gravel parking lot, you can find baby tree sprouts that can be easily transplanted by gently removing the gravel bits from around the roots, wrapping the roots in wet paper towel, and transplanting to a large pot.

Do not pile up mulch around the base of a tree. You can mulch under the tree, but it should be a mostly flat layer, not a raised mound, and keep the mulch a few inches away from touching the trunk. Roots need some access to air or the tree will grow roots upward through the mulch, and the roots will slowly wrap around the trunk and strangle the tree to death. It's called root girdling and it is very sad.

Trees need friends!!! If possible, plant two or three trees instead of just one. Trees share nutrients through the mycorrhizal network and they protect each other from storm damage.

Always get a tree that is native to your area and suited to your local environment.

Growing an oak from an acorn is easy. Go to an area where there are oaks in the fall, and collect the acorns that have turned brown and whose hats have popped off. Get large pots at least 8 inches depth, and lay the acorns on their sides on top of the potting soil, then cover them with a layer of damp fallen leaves, and leave them outside all winter long. Just be sure to cover them with some wire mesh or something to protect them from squirrels

Please keep oaks and other large trees about 20 feet from any structure because they will grow huge. Websites will tell you to keep trees X distance away from "structures or other trees" but other trees can go as little as 6-10 feet apart whereas structures need to be like 15 feet away minimum, generally speaking

Prune the tree while it's dormant, NOT in the middle of summer!

If you happen to be from the Eastern United States, please consider getting an oak! They are keystone species and host plants for literally hundreds of insects. We have too many maples here too, so maybe consider a Sweetgum or Black Gum for pretty fall colors?

If you have a tree that's tied to a stake to keep it upright, get rid of that thing as soon as you can, particularly if there's zip ties holding it to the tree, because those can grow into the bark and kill the tree...

If your tree is dead, please consider cutting off the branches and leaving at least 6-10 feet or so of trunk standing. Dead tree snags like this are important nesting places for many birds and you might see a woodpecker

If you live in North America, whatever you do, do NOT get anything marketed as an "ornamental flowering pear tree." They're typically Pyrus calleryana, and they're virulently invasive

Bugs eating a few holes in the leaves of your tree? Good for them! (They aren't hurting the tree unless they're like, fully skeletonizing it, and they're just the caterpillars of butterflies and moths. Want Luna moths or Tiger Swallowtail butterflies? Let the caterpillars eat their dinner mmkay.)

Don't throw away the fallen leaves! Butterflies, moths, stick bugs, lightning bugs, ladybugs, and many other insects hibernate the winter in the fallen leaves. Use them as mulch for flower beds, compost them, or just leave them alone! You'll probably want to stop mowing after the leaves fall if you'd like to see bugs.

[reasonsforhope]

The Klamath River’s salmon population has declined due to myriad factors, but the biggest culprit is believed to be a series of dams built along the river from 1918 to 1962, cutting off fish migration routes.

Now, after decades of Indigenous advocacy, four of the structures are being demolished as part of the largest dam removal project in United States history. In November, crews finished removing the first of the four dams as part of a push to restore 644 kilometres (400 miles) of fish habitat.

“Dam removal is the largest single step that we can take to restore the Klamath River ecosystem,” [Barry McCovey, a member of the Yurok Tribe and director of tribal fisheries,] told Al Jazeera. “We’re going to see benefits to the ecosystem and then, in turn, to the fishery for decades and decades to come.” ...

A ‘watershed moment’

Four years later, [after a catastrophic fish die-off in 2002,] in 2006, the licence for the hydroelectric dams expired. That created an opportunity, according to Mark Bransom, CEO of the Klamath River Renewal Corporation (KRRC), a nonprofit founded to oversee the dam removals.

Standards for protecting fisheries had increased since the initial license was issued, and the utility company responsible for the dams faced a choice. It could either upgrade the dams at an economic loss or enter into a settlement agreement that would allow it to operate the dams until they could be demolished.

“A big driver was the economics — knowing that they would have to modify these facilities to bring them up to modern environmental standards,” Bransom explained. “And the economics just didn’t pencil out.”

The utility company chose the settlement. In 2016, the KRRC was created to work with the state governments of California and Oregon to demolish the dams.

Final approval for the deal came in 2022, in what Bransom remembers as a “watershed moment”.

Regulators at the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) voted unanimously to tear down the dams, citing the benefit to the environment as well as to Indigenous tribes...

Tears of joy

Destruction of the first dam — the smallest, known as Copco 2 — began in June, with heavy machinery like excavators tearing down its concrete walls.

[Amy Cordalis, a Yurok Tribe member, fisherwoman and lawyer for the tribe,] was present for the start of the destruction. Bransom had invited her and fellow KRRC board members to visit the bend in the Klamath River where Copco 2 was being removed. She remembers taking his hand as they walked along a gravel ridge towards the water, a vein of blue nestled amid rolling hills.

“And then, there it was,” Cordalis said. “Or there it wasn’t. The dam was gone.”

For the first time in a century, water flowed freely through that area of the river. Cordalis felt like she was seeing her homelands restored.

Tears of joy began to roll down her cheeks. “I just cried so hard because it was so beautiful.”

The experience was also “profound” for Bransom. “It really was literally a jolt of energy that flowed through us,” he said, calling the visit “perhaps one of the most touching, most moving moments in my entire life”.

Demolition on Copco 2 was completed in November, with work starting on the other three dams. The entire project is scheduled to wrap in late 2024.

[A resilient river]

But experts like McCovey say major hurdles remain to restoring the river’s historic salmon population.

Climate change is warming the water. Wildfires and flash floods are contaminating the river with debris. And tiny particles from rubber vehicle tires are washing off roadways and into waterways, where their chemicals can kill fish within hours.

McCovey, however, is optimistic that the dam demolitions will help the river become more resilient.

“Dam removal is one of the best things we can do to help the Klamath basin be ready to handle climate change,” McCovey explained. He added that the river’s uninterrupted flow will also help flush out sediment and improve water quality.

The removal project is not the solution to all the river’s woes, but McCovey believes it’s a start — a step towards rebuilding the reciprocal relationship between the waterway and the Indigenous people who rely on it.

“We do a little bit of work, and then we start to see more salmon, and then maybe we get to eat more salmon, and that starts to help our people heal a little bit,” McCovey said. “And once we start healing, then we’re in a place where we can start to help the ecosystem a little bit more.”"

-via Al Jazeera, December 4, 2023

[gyr8o73284r]

Oooo spooky scary misinformation

Did you know that many people are actually not Homo sapiens? According to a research study done by a scientist known as Marie Lekinda in 1984, the DNA of the people found today do not match that which have been found in historical confirmed members of the Homo sapiens species.

You may be wondering; What exactly the classification of the dominant species on the planet Earth today? Well, according to more modern research, the human species shares as much as 90% of DNA with modern domesticated cats! The assertion that we are a member of the Homo genius is simply false, and a more proper name for the common person you meet today is the Felis sapiens.

The so requested catgirls may be sooner in the future than we expect! In fact, some doctors report small, bump-like growths on the heads of babies born within the past few years. Our highly-trained researchers at blog you've never heard of think this is due to the CoVID-19 vaccine reawakening pseudogenes coding for the ears of our smaller, fuzzier anchestors.

One large question arises: What happened to the Homo sapiens species? We know they used to fully exist in a form not so similar to ours due to convergent evolution, but they are nearly extinct today, with their percentage of the common population being as low as 12%. It makes sense, however, as humans simply are not as fit as the Felis genus is in many ways. After all, humans have evolved to be cooperative, while most feline creatures have evolved to be selfish; not as a way of insult. Selfishness is the proper ecological term for social interaction between two organisms where the donor benefits and the recipient does poorly, and Felis sapiens simply evolved to be more fit in this way.

I leave you all with a meow meow meow.

-appendectomy malleo united union gravel table applify

[quillcraftconquer]

John “Soap” Mactavish x Female reader

TW: Smut, spanking, (kinda) rough sex? Bj, piv.

Soap deserves more x reader content. Just sayin.

WC: 1.9k

Maybe a WIP? Idk

—————-

You didn’t intend to go out tonight and get unequivocally drunk, especially the night before you were deploying with a new unit.

But here you were, a couple beers deep, watching the muscled back of the man with the short, dark mohawk as he attempted to catch the attention of the bartender.

You didn’t intend to try to bring anyone back to your hotel tonight, but damn if that man didn’t look good. He was leaned forward over the bar, palms splayed out on the sticky wood. His thick, Scottish accent was carrying over the other voices around him as he got more and more frustrated at being ignored. The bartender, your poor friend Feliks, continued to ignore him, bustling around the bar to serve the rowdy regulars who ordered in his native language, occasionally glaring at the Scot who threw his hands up in exasperation each time. It didn’t help as the night went on, the regulars were getting rowdier, pushier, shoving against him.

You looked down into your empty glass.

Fuck it

You approached the bar, sliding into the empty space next to the man and called out to Feliks for another drink.

“You’re losing a customer.” You joked to him in Russian, nodding your head to the Scot who guffawed when Feliks set another beer down in front of you.

“Tell him to leave a yelp review.” Feliks barked out, swatting the wandering hands of a patron who was reaching over the counter.

“Am I fucking invisible?” The Scot grunted, stiffening his shoulders as another person bumped into him.

“He doesn’t speak English.” You laughed, turning to face him. Finally, the Scot peeled his eyes off the bartender, glancing down at you. His eyes darted from one of your eyes to the other, to your lips, and back to your eyes.

You were an interpreter, and you could definitely interpret that look.

“What do you want?” You asked, glancing down at the beer he was holding.

“Same thing.” He answered, and you flagged Feliks down, who begrudgingly passed another beer your way. You slid it to the man, letting your eyes wander over his chest before meeting his eyes.

“You’re a ways away from Scotland.” You joked.

“Military.” He grunted, fiddling with the tab of the beer until it popped open, raising it to his mouth to take a long drink.

“Mm.” You hummed in response, resisting the urge to crinkle your nose. You definitely didn’t intend to take one of them back to your hotel.

“Like a man in uniform?” He asked, giving you a cheeky grin. You wanted to groan and roll your eyes, but if you were going to get laid before being in the middle of fucking nowhere for months, you had to take what you could get.

“I like when they take them off.” You said, lifting an eyebrow, hoping he could take a hint. The way his grin widened you knew he was picking up on what you wanted.

“Yeah?” He smiled, eyeing you over the can, fingers tightening on the tin as his gaze fell over the tight dress covering your body.

“Too bad you’re not in yours.” You said, running your hand up the hard muscles of his chest, resting it there as the patrons around you bumped your bodies closer.

“Still looks pretty good outta this, if you want to try it out.” He breathed, catching your waist in his hand and idly grazing his thumb over your hip.

And just like that, you’re letting him lead you through the crowded bar, out the door and to his car. A car that is much too clean to be used daily. You punch in the address to your hotel, tossing the phone down as it loads the ETA.

9 minutes.

You can work with that.

You wait until the gravel is crunching under the tires as he pulls out of the bar, driving through the dark, illuminating the interior of the car when it passes under the occasional street light. You unbuckle, and he glances over to you suspiciously until your fingers graze against his waist band. His eyes widen and his hands squeeze the steering wheel, shifting his hips to give you better access. You unzip his fly, fishing his cock out as it hardens in your grasp. You let a small smile fall across your face when he moans, working your hand up and down his thick length, the precum beading at the top.

“Condom?” You ask husikly, and he nods.

“Wallet.” He groans, bucking his hips into your hand.

You reach into his pocket, fishing out the brown leather wallet and opening it. Your eyes dart over the I.D

John MacTavish.

One condom.

“Just one, John?” You ask, holding it between two fingers with your eyebrows raised. You didn’t want to put this strangers cock in your mouth without protection, but god, it looked delectable. He smiled at you sheepishly, and you tucked it back in the wallet, tossing it on the dashboard. You returned your hand to his cock, leaning forward to press your lips against the shell of his ear.

“Make it count.” You whispered, giving his earlobe a playful nibble. He groaned, and you dipped your head lower, drawing your tongue across the mushroom head. You sucked him further into your mouth, jaw aching as it stretched to accommodate him. You could hear the squeak of the leather on the steering wheel as his grip tightened.

“Fuck.” He moaned, laying a hand tentatively on the back of your head, gathering your hair into his fist. You nodded, allowing him to move you freely up and down his cock, eyes watering when he bucked up, groaning as he attempted to fit all of him into your mouth.

“You’ve arrived at your destination”

He sighed when you pushed up against his hand, pulling him from your mouth with a pop. You led him up to your room, his hand resting on the small of your back, occasionally dropping lower to give your ass a squeeze. You opened the door to your room, tossing the key on the dresser and turning to face him. His hands were immediately on you, his length straining against the denim of his jeans. You reached for the hem of his shirt and he paused, pulling away from your touch.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, turning to face the dresser and digging under his shirt, pulling out a holster and laying it on top. He bent, pulling up the pant of his leg and unclipping another from his ankle and placing it next to the other. He reached into the other boot, pulling a knife out, laying it with his other weapons. He rose up, gauging your reaction.

“Two guns, a knife, but one condom?” You said sarcastically, shrugging the dressing off your shoulders and peeling it down your body.

“Use those more.” He joked, pulling his shirt over his head, his jeans and briefs quickly joining the discarded clothes on the floor. He pressed his naked body against yours, his hard cock trapped between your stomachs as he kissed you, tongue dipping into your mouth. You moaned as he backed you up until the back of your knees bumped into the bed. You sank into the mattress, expecting him to join you. Instead, he knelt on the carpet at the edge of the bed, gripping your hips and dragging you to him.

“What’re you-“ You started, gasping when you felt his tongue lap at the wetness that had pooled between your thighs.

“Thought I’d return the favor.” He said, drawing a long lick up to your clit, his hands wrapping around your legs and pulling them over his shoulders. You moaned, tossing your head back into the bed as you fisted his dark mohawk, grinding into his face with need.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped as he dragged two fingers across you, pressing against your entrance. He curled them inside of you, thrusting gently as he focused his mouth on your clit.

“Oh god, please don’t stop. Fuck, John.” You moaned, and he groaned against you when you said his name. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, bucking against his face as you felt your orgasm hit, clenching around his fingers. You sighed when you felt him pull back, opening your eyes as he rolled his one and only condom on. You scooted up the bed until your head hit the pillows, his body draping over yours, knees pushing your legs further apart. He reached behind your head, grabbing a pillow and placing it under your ass. Your lips twitched at the corner, fighting a smile.

This was a well practiced man.

He leaned forward, his dog tags jingling as they dangled by your face. You felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and his eyes met yours.

This was much more intimate than you intended.

You both groaned in unison when he pressed forward, his length causing you to tingle with a burning stretch that felt so good. He pressed his forehead against yours, panting. Your nipples hardened when the cool metal of his dog tags brushed against your chest, arching your back into him.

“Fuck, you feel good. So good.” He mumbled, drawing back a few inches before driving into you again, the top of your head gently bumping against the headboard with each thrust.

You weren’t into military men. In fact, you did your best to avoid them. You were in the military, you knew how terrible these men could be.

But holy shit, this man was working your body in ways you didn’t know it could be worked.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, dragging your nails across his back.

“Harder.” You begged, clasping one hand on the back of his neck. He grabbed one of your ankles, maneuvering your leg over his shoulder as he drove deeper, harder, smashing his hips against yours. But it wasn’t enough.

“More, please.” You pleaded, embarrassed at what this man was turning you into. He choked out a laugh, pausing his thrusts.

“What do you want?” He asked, using the opportunity to catch his breath. You placed a hand against his chest, pushing him back off of you, out of you. He stared at you in question, eyes darkening with lust when you flipped around, raising your ass to him and burying your face into the mattress. You felt his hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto his cock. You gasped as he pulled back, ramming into you again roughly. A small smack on your ass made you moan into the pillow, and encouraged by the sound, he did it again, harder this time.

“Better?” He asked, massaging the spot his hand had connected as he thrusted. You nodded, unable to contain the small whimpers that escaped your throat each time he surged forward and hit that delicate spot inside of you. Your ass tingled with each smack, followed by the massage from his calloused hand.

“Feels so fucking good, god I can feel you gripping my cock. I’m not going to last long.” He moaned, hips quickening as if to make a point. You nodded again, your eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion and pleasure as another orgasm overtook you.

“John…” You moaned out, for the first time wishing there wasn’t a barrier between you.

He groaned as you felt his fingers tighten against your hips, draping his body against your back, pressing his sweat drenched forehead against your shoulders blade as the condom filled with his release. He stayed like that for a moment before pulling out of you, the mattress creaking as his weight left it. You felt the comforter fall over your body, the faint rustling of clothes and keys filling the silence as you kept your eyes shut, body spent.

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.1)

have some absolutely adorable interactions with you and the students at the mansion (and a surprise guest)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of animals neglecting their babies, and a story so sweet my teeth hurt

Inspiration: This scene from X2: X-Men United

Series: No Fucking Way

Your feet pounded against the gravel path beneath you. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by your well-worn sneakers. Warm sweat dampened the cloth of your sweatshirt around your arms and chest. The sun beat down on your flushed face as a cold breeze bit across your nose. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous, autumn day. Occasional spotted clouds glided at a snail’s pace across a great blue sky. Soft breezes made the great trees surrounding the mansion dance like sheets of amber linen. Red and orange leaves skittered across the yellowing grass fields.

You saw a handful of students out on the lawn enjoying the early morning air. Sybil, a brunette with the ability to see through others’ eyes, sat beneath a large willow by the fish pond with a notepad in her hands. Vienna sat beside her. A strawberry blonde, bright eyed girl who could channel electricity into the palms of her hands. The two exchanged ideas about whatever Sybil was jotting down in her notepad.

Yuna sat not too far from the whispering pair, fingers twirling above a quickly constructed tower of stones and blades of grass. Her usual deep brown eyes now glowed a subtle violet. The maroon hijab she wore wrapped around her neck matched the crimson hues of the changing leaves in the trees around her. 

Jane, a kind-eyed tracker, Matt, a red glasses-wearing fighter, and Mads, a short-haired plant bender, sat in a circle, enjoying their morning coffee and tea together. You gave Mads a quick wave as you jogged past, receiving a warm smile and a shower of flower petals left in your wake.

The gravel path led along the left side of the mansion. Emerald ivy crawled up the brick walls like arms reaching from the earth. An occasional window broke up the light colored bricks. Most had their curtains drawn, which you attributed to a large portion of the students being late risers. One or two had the curtains open to allow fresh sunlight into the shared rooms.

You caught a glimpse of Sapph through one of the windows. Her bright smile and blue eyes were almost radiant as she basked in the streams of sunlight. Vases of sunflowers sat on the windowsill in front of her. The light seemed to bend, refracting from Sapph’s palms and hitting the sunflowers’ leaves.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The students were happy, the day was beautiful, and you only had one more lap of the mansion to jog before you’d call it a day.

“MAAAOOOWWW!”

You stopped just short of the empty basketball court. The crimson asphalt was covered in crunchy leaves and green brush from the nearby bushes. Corded nets hanging from the steel hoops swayed in the breeze. You looked around you, trying to find the source of the noise.

“MaaooOOW?”

There it was again. Closer than before. It sounded like it came from an incredibly small source, whatever it was. Your sneakers crossed onto the asphalt, toes kicking at leaves and twigs. You let your eyes scan the area around you. The court was surrounded by a wall of hedges. About waist high to you, it helped keep the court clear of too much debris from the trees. 

The mansion sat against the hedges. Large, bay windows looked into a sitting area. Hira, a telepath, sat in one of the plush leather armchairs with a novel in her hands. A white hijab wrapped around her head, glasses peeking out over light brown eyes. Daniel, a light-haired strongman, and Jacob, a bearded speedster, sat on the green-clothed couch across from Hira. Dice and rulebooks laid on the coffee table in front of them.

A rustle in the hedges to your left drew your focus from the students inside. The lowest branches shuddered, small green leaves shaken off and falling to the ground below. You knelt on the asphalt and strained your eyes to see through the dense foliage.

“MoowwWOAAOW!”

That was the only warning you got before a tiny gray and white fur ball burst out of the hedge and landed five feet in front of you. Pointed ears folded back, blue eyes widened, arched back covered in long fuzz.

A kitten. A small, angry, fluffy kitten. No more than a few weeks old. 

You remained where you kneeled on the asphalt, palms upturned and resting on your thighs. You kept a neutral expression on your face as you blinked slowly at the small creature.

After a few moments the kitten relaxed. Its ears faced forward, tail sticking straight up as it approached you. You gingerly extended a hand for it to sniff. Its tiny, pink nose ran across the tips of your fingers as it grew acclimated to your presence.

“Hi, little one,” you said through a barely subdued, ecstatic grin. You had always wanted a cat. Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of a tiny ball of purrs curled up in your lap and effortlessly improving your mood. Not to mention they were ridiculously easy to take care of.

The kitten took a few more moments to sniff at your fingers. Its tiny eyes squinted as it seemed to devote its entire being to assessing your threat level. Once it seemed satisfied, it rubbed its chin across your thumb. You could already feel the purrs rumbling in its throat.

It took everything in you to not explode from the cuteness overload. This little thing, this tiny itty bitty little thing, chose you. You could feel a swell of pure adoration overtake your chest, the gentle warmth spreading from head to toe.

The cat continued to rub on your hand, occasionally nibbling on your fingers with the sides of its mouth. You lifted your free hand in an attempt to pet the kitten. Moving slowly to not startle it, you gently ran your fingers across its fluffy back. An explosion of purrs, like a hive of angry bees, met your affection. The cat dug its little head into the palm of your hand. You took the hint, giving it gentle scratches on the soft spots by its ears.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life,” you breathed in astonishment. The cat seemed to enjoy the compliment, pawing at your hands and attempting to climb closer to your face. You scooped its tiny body in your hands and lifted it to your chest.

Tiny paws kneaded at the fabric of your sweatshirt. Little needle-like claws pulled at the threads. The kitten looked up at you with squinted eyes. You carefully rose to your feet, doing your best to not jostle the miniature creature cradled to your chest.

The cat nestled into the crook of your neck. Its tiny nose puffed against your skin while a category-5 purricane buzzed in your hands.

You would die for this cat and you just met it a minute ago.

Mentally saying “fuck it” to the rest of your jog, you began to gingerly walk back inside. You avoided walking on the gravel to make as little noise and sudden movements as possible. The cat seemed to appreciate the gesture, with what miniscule amount its tiny brain could comprehend, as a small lick from its rough tongue passed over your neck.

You garnered a few sideways looks from the students on the lawn as you walked by again. Mads cocked her head, fairy themed earrings jingling, at the gentleness in your step and the backtracking in your path.

“You alright, ma’am?” she called out. Jane and Matt perked up at Mads’s exclamation. Jane looked up at you with curiosity written in her features while Matt’s dark brows furrowed.

A quick gesture to the buzzing fur ball in your hands was all the trio needed. Their expressions quickly shifted from confusion to utter joy. They whispered among themselves about the newest addition to the mansion as you passed by.

That method is how you seamlessly moved through the bustling early-risers inside the foyer. One perplexed look was met with a nod to the kitten in your hands and the students parted like the Red Sea. Excited murmurs spread through the students like wildfire. “Is that a cat?” “Oh my god, kitty!” “It’s so cute!” “I hope we can keep it!”

The last student you passed before reaching your destination was Bella, a time manipulator. She was just on her way out of the professor’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. A kind smile met yours when she looked in your direction. 

“Morning, ma’am. Need to see the- Wait, is that a cat?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Shhh. Yes, it is. Could you open the door for me?” you whispered. Bella lifted her first finger to her mouth, winking to indicate she understood, then twisted the brass knob and swung the door open before you.

“Good luck,” she whisper-yelled after you.

A grand office stood before you. Comfortable leather settees were positioned in front of a solid, mahogany desk. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Trinkets and remembrances decorated available surfaces and empty wall space.

The professor, or Charles Xavier as you knew him, sat in his motorized wheelchair behind the large desk. His hairless head was lowered, blue eyes darting across the pages of a copy of House of Leaves. A single finger raised next to his aged face to acknowledge your presence.

“One moment, please. From both you and your new friend,” he said. A minute passed, seconds counted by the paws kneading into your shoulder, before Charles closed the book and met your gaze. A warm smile matched your enthusiastic one, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found this little guy outside,” you began. The cat perked up at the mention of itself, eyes blinking up at you then looking at the professor. You ran a finger under the kitten’s chin as you continued, “He was an angry little fella, all bushy tailed, but he warmed right up to me. He was hiding in the hedges by the basketball court.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles replied. He lowered a hand to maneuver his wheelchair. The low buzz of the machinery heralded his movement as he rounded the desk to sit in front of you and the cat.

“I didn’t see any other cats around, but the good news is he seems to be old enough for solid food,” you said. The cat blinked slowly at the professor, its little nose sniffing the air in front of it.

“It seems his mother abandoned him. Weaned him off her too quickly and left him stunted. Poor thing,” Charles said, head tilting and lips pulling into a slight frown. You gawked at him.

“You can read the cat’s mind, too?” you asked. The abilities of the mutants around you never ceased to amaze. Especially one as powerful as Charles Xavier.

He smiled at the kitten, oblivious to your gawking, stretching out his hands to you, “May I?”

You gently lifted the cat off your chest, prying the tiny talons from your sweatshirt, and placed the furball in the professor’s hands. Charles lifted the cat to his chest and ran a gentle hand down its back.

“You’ll need to wake Rogue and Bobby, have them run to the pet store down the road. This one will need plenty of love and nourishment if he’s to thrive,” he said. You stared at him, dumbstruck.

“We can keep him?”

“He can stay, as long as he likes. Much is the same with the rest of those who live here,” Charles clarified. The little gray kitten nuzzled against Charles’s chin, the professor’s smile growing.

“Okay. Okay! Yes! I’ll go get Rogue and Bobby,” you said, absolute jubilation filling your lungs. 

You left Charles and the cat to continue their telepathic conversation as you raced up the giant, double staircase. Ornately carved wooden banisters ran along the edges of the stairs, polish shining in yellow circles from the chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. When the stairs divided into two sets, running opposite directions, you cut to the right. Your feet skipped over carpeted steps in your haste to reach your destination.

Once your sneakers landed on the second floor, you broke into a jog down the hallway. Door after wooden door flew by you on both sides of the hall. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and glowing sconces lined the wooden walls. A large window sat in the white wall at the end of the hall. Daylight streamed in and cast golden spots on the wood floors.

You stopped at the last door on the left. Rapping three quick knocks on the door, you bounced on your toes. There was a cat in the mansion. A cat! One that would live with you! You silently thanked whatever god it was that decided for you to be next in the cat distribution system.

It took another set of knocks on the door for you to hear movement on the other side. Bleary groans and rustling sheets leaked through the cracks in the door. You bit your lip in an attempt to quell your excitement.

The doorknob turned and a ruffled-looking Rogue appeared in the doorway. Dark hair just barely smoothed down, eyes squinted, robe hastily thrown over a nightgown.

“Vampire? Shit, what time is it?” she asked, grogginess laced in her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a cat,” you said. Your smile widened as you waited for her response. Rogue eyed you, up and down, as she assessed her living alarm clock.

“Logan’s not a cat. We’ve been over this,” she said. She exhaled a puff of air through her lips to blow at the white bangs that fell over her eyes. You rolled your eyes playfully at the jab.

“Not Logan this time. An actual cat. A kitten,” you explained. Rogue’s eyebrows rose as her eyes widened.

“Wait, there’s a cat?” Bobby called from beyond the door. His blonde head popped up beside Rogue’s. The couple seemed to be much more awake now.

“Yup,” you said, annunciating the p. Bobby and Rogue looked at each other, smiles growing, before looking back to you. 

“Where is it? Can we see it?” Rogue asked.

“Charles needs the two of you to run and get cat stuff first. Like food, litter, toys. Anything you can think of,” you replied. At the first sign of them objecting, you continued, “You guys can get literally anything you want. Treats, cat towers, little obstacle courses. Just make sure it’s safe for a younger kitten.”

“We’re on it, boss!” Bobby said, happiness palpable and blue eyes sparkling, as his hand clapped on Rogue’s clothed shoulder.

“100%. This cat will be spoiled rotten,” Rogue confirmed. With that situation squared away, you gave the pair a quick nod, beaming at them, then took off back down the hallway.

The run back to the professor’s office was an even shorter journey due to you jumping down several steps at a time. A few students looked gravely concerned at your acrobatics. Especially Ash, who helped Jean with patching students up by being a walking pain-reliever.

Your hand caught on the doorframe of Charles’s office and you swung into the doorway, breathless. He and the cat were much like how you had left them. Tiny gray body tucked against his neck, both having their eyes closed.

“Bobby and Rogue are on their way out,” you said. Charles hummed in response, eyes falling open.

“This one’s taken a shine to you, my dear. Says you’re the first to treat him kindly,” he said, a proud smile painted across his face. You let out an incredulous laugh.

“Guess he really is one of us, huh?”

“More than you know,” Charles said through an amused chuckle. You approached the professor and ball of cuddles carefully, attempting to not disturb the little creature.

“Mrrpp?” the cat trilled. It squinted at you from beneath Charles’s chin, paws kneading into the back of the professor’s hands. You could almost hear its purrs from where you stood.

“Does he have a name?” you asked. You scratched beneath its furry chin as the cat stretched out its jaw into your hand. 

“I was hoping you might know one,” Charles said. He pressed the cat into your hands and you gladly scooped the little ball of love into your arms. You could feel the purrs emanating from the cat’s belly vibrate against your chest. Tiny, thin whiskers tickled along the underside of your jaw.

“Jeez, uh. I don’t know. Let me think on it,” you responded. It was hard to think when all of your focus was drawn to the fluffy creature cradled in your hands. Charles chuckled at your indecision.

“I’m sure whatever you choose, our newest student will happily respond to it,” he assured. He used his now free hands to dust cat hair off his crisp, navy blue suit. As you turned to walk out, Charles said, “Make sure to give him a bath. This young one’s lived outside for far too long.”

“Will do,” you said. You shifted your arms so you could better support the cat on your chest, then set a course for the upstairs bathroom closest to your and Logan’s room.

It seemed the news of a cat on campus had spread throughout the student body. A large crowd had gathered outside of Charles’s study. Students, an array of ages and stages of dress, craned their necks over their peers to try and catch a glimpse. 

“I wanna see!” Addie, a platinum blonde seven-year-old who could speak any language, called up from the space next to your hip. Your legs were framed by her and Ryan, a nine-year-old brunet with impenetrable skin. 

“Guys, the cat is very small. He needs quiet!” you said, voice coming out as a stage whisper. A hush fell over the group in front of you. Wide, hopeful eyes blinked up at you. You sighed, untucking the cat from the crook of your neck and holding him in front of you. At the sight of the small bundle of fur in your hands, a buzz of excited whispers passed from ear to ear. 

“Does he have a name?” Ryan asked. An echo of agreement sounded around the crowd.

“Not yet, so everyone start brainstorming!” you said. A renewed vigor filled the conversation as names were debated back and forth between students. You used the distraction to slip away, climbing back up the stairs and baring left this time.

This hallway was nearly identical to the one on the opposite side of the stairs. Wooden paneling covered the walls, patterned red carpet stretched down the middle of the floor, potted plants sat here and there. You knocked once on the first door to the right. Receiving no answer, you pushed it open.

Inside was a full bathroom. White tiles lined the walls and floor, the grout a cool gray. Warm patterned shower curtains hung from a steel rod suspended between two walls. A vanity mirror hung on the wall opposite the door. You flicked on the light switch, making the three globes above the mirror glow and send dancing reflections throughout the bathroom.

“Alright, fella. Let’s get you clean,” you said as you sat the cat in the sink. His little, furry body looked like a small sponge sitting in the white porcelain. A confused face looked up at you through squinted eyes.

“Mraow?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not gonna like this part,” you responded. You leaned over, opening the white cabinets below the sink, and pulled out the unscented shampoo Logan liked to use. Straightening up, you noticed the cat had remained where you sat it. Prim, proper, posture like a little gentleman.

You smirked, scritching the top of his head between his ears. His face tilted up into your touch. 

“Such a sweet little guy,” you cooed. You gave him a few more well deserved pets before scooping his little body and turning on the faucet. You made sure the handle was turned to a warm, not hot, setting and the pressure was nice and low. 

The cat startled a bit in your palm at the sudden rush of water. A little paw raised, batting in the air between him and the running water. You dipped a finger in the water and brought it to his nose for proper inspection. A few sniffs, a couple licks, then his chin was rubbing on your fingertip again.

You took it as a good sign, dipping the same hand back under the faucet and letting the water coat your skin. Once enough water had gathered in your hand you lifted it to the cat’s back. He tracked your movement. Small, squinted eyes followed your hand as you placed your palm on his back. You felt the water droplets sink into the fluffy, gray fur and soak into his skin.

“This ok?” you asked, like the cat could give you an answer. The small creature blinked up at you. He seemed unbothered by the moisture. You gave him another palm-full of water to get him adjusted to the temperature, the sensation. Not a peep from this little sir.

You set the cat back in the sink, just the tail end of his back beneath the running faucet. He hunkered down into the smallest loaf you’d ever seen. Front feet tucked under his fuzzy chest, tail curled around his side, eyes blinking slowly up at you. You cupped water in your palm and let it run through his fur. Before too long you had a drenched, buzzing kitten in the sink.

“You are the strangest creature…” you wondered aloud. You popped the lid open on Logan’s shampoo and lathered up your hands. Thankfully, you didn’t spot any fleas or other parasites hopping on the kitten’s body. Washing out the dirt and grime shouldn’t take too long.

“Why are you hunched over the sink with my soap?” a gruff voice said from behind you. You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. Logan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He wore his trademarked white tank top and loose jeans buckled with a brown belt. His dark hair was fluffy and unstyled, long strands hanging in front of his wrinkled eyebrows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He pushed off the wall and stepped up next to you, his boots clipping on the tiles.

“Right. So, funny story,” you began. You ran your soapy fingers through the cat’s soaked fur. Logan’s hip leaned on the counter as he continued to stare at you. Jutting your chin down at the sudsy feline, you continued, “I found this guy outside and he made me think of you.”

“Made you think of…” Logan trailed off when his hazel eyes landed on the kitten.

“You know, with his cat ears,” you explained. You scrubbed at the kitten’s purring body while Logan spluttered next to you.

“Cat ears?!” 

“Yeah. Those hair floofs you get when you style your hair. They look like cat ears,” you said. You pretended to ignore the pure indignation spouting from the man next to you. A knowing smirk stretched across your lips.

“I do not have cat ears,” Logan argued.

“Yes you do!” Rogue shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Your indifferent mask broke as you doubled over, cackling. The cat’s head tilted as it watched your face disappear below the counter. Logan huffed, arms folding over his chest again.

It took you a few moments to regain your composure. Giggles bubbled up your throat everytime you glanced back at Logan next to you. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grumbled. But, because you knew him so well, you could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders to rinse off the cat sitting patiently in the sink. Warm water trailed through your fingers and washed away the suds gathered on the kitten’s body. Squinted eyes watched you, blinking slowly and serenely, purrs vibrating against your hands.

“Happy little fuzzball, isn’t he?” Logan said. The kitten turned its head to peer at Logan. You ran a wet finger between its ears, smoothing the fur back and washing soap away.

“He certainly is,” you hummed. When an idea popped in your head, you felt your grin widen and your gaze slip over to Logan next to you, “You know, he still needs a name.”

“So name him,” Logan replied instantly. A tentative, large hand reached into the sink and ran two fingers down the cat’s soaked back. The kind and delicate gesture only further solidified your idea.

“Actually… I was hoping you could name him.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, relaxed expression melting into pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

this short story is kind of a tribute to the lovely, lovely folks in the murdock tuna team. i have nothing but love and an endless stream of thanks to give to them. you all have inspired me to be a better artist, a better author, a better person. love you, blob blob 🐟

[patrick-jennings]

Smooth ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #331

Smooth gravel  Through sparse country Makes me happy

Smooth gravel Through sparse country Makes me happy (more…)

[multific]

Home Again

König x Reader

Summary: He returns home to you.

König had been away at war for what felt like an eternity. 

His wife, Y/N, had been counting down the days until his return, longing for the moment when you would finally be able to wrap him in your arms again. 

As you stood by the window, watching the sun setting over the horizon, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness.

Would he still love you?

Finally, the day arrived. 

König's regiment had been granted leave, and he was on his way home. You could hardly contain your excitement as you waited for him to arrive. The nerves never truly leave you.

You had spent hours preparing his favourite meal, a hearty stew with freshly baked bread, and you had even gone so far as to clean the house from top to bottom, wanting everything to be perfect for his return.

Perfect for him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you heard the sound of boots crunching on the gravel outside. 

Your heart skipped in your chest as you rushed to the door, throwing it open to reveal König standing there, about to put the key into the door to open it.

His uniform was dusty and worn, but his eyes were bright with joy at the sight of her. His mask was long forgotten from the moment he came back.

You ran into his open arms as he lifted you from the ground, holding onto each other as if you never wanted to let go. 

König buried his face in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume, feeling a sense of peace wash over him at finally being home with his beloved wife.

"I can't believe that you are back." you said, tears leaving your eyes in happiness.

"I'm back." his voice sounded so soothing. It made all your worries go away as he carried you into your home.

You sat down to dinner, the stew warming their bellies and the bread filling the air with its delicious scent. 

König entertained you with some tales of his time at war, of battles fought and victories won, but also of the hardships and losses he had endured along the way.

He never wanted to share too much with you, in case you got too worried. 

But he still wanted you to know a couple things.

As the evening wore on, König found himself falling more and more in love with his wife, marvelling at your strength and resilience in his absence. 

He knew that he was a lucky man to have such a devoted partner waiting for him at home, and he vowed never to take you for granted.

As you retired to bed later that night, König held you close, whispering words of love and gratitude into your ear. 

He knew that he had been changed by his time at war, but he also knew that he had come home to the one person who could help him heal and find peace once more.

And so, as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, König and you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together, united in their love and devotion to one another. 

And in that moment, all was right in the world.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum

@asgards-princess-of-mischief @fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[seat-safety-switch]

You may be aware of the concept of “a rental car.” It’s where you go to a store that lives inside the airport, promise to give them some money, and they hand you the keys to a car. When you’re done with that car, you just give it back and you never have to see it again. No oil changes. No windshield washer fluid repair. No welding new body panels into it after driving on a particularly pointy gravel road.

The thing is, this is an incredibly expensive procedure. Before the world broke, even the cheapest rental agencies were gonna charge you more than just flying in, taking a taxi to the junkiest piece of shit on Craigslist, and then signing a fake name onto the title. Cops give you like a week’s leeway on getting it actually registered – even more if you are there for a “business trip” and are wearing Value Village’s finest two-piece Italian-cut dead salesman’s suit. You get to drive a new kind of car, it doesn’t cost you that much, and when you’re done you can just drive it back to the seller’s house in the middle of the night and take a taxi back to the airport.

So, being forced to rent a car during my recent trip to Philadelphia in order to give the keynote speech at the Bad Cars Monthly conference, I decided I would get the maximum amount of value out of my rental. I neutral-dropped the fucker at every light, started a small side business delivering heavy goods for cheap, and did my best impression of Petter Solberg on every even vaguely curvy road I could find. At one point, I took it to a drag strip and put down a weak fifteen-second pass, the transmission warning light shrieking the entire time as I force-fed it a couple gallons of nitrous oxide that I picked up at a shop near the hotel. Never before had a 2023 Hyundai Sonata been thrashed so thoroughly and without mercy, and I can assure you that the lot boys (and ladies) were impressed when I rolled the filthy, used-up chunk of Korean iron into the lot, parked it across four stalls, and threw the keys into a nearby storm drain after yelling “Catch!”

Friends, I cannot recommend that you purchase a new 2023 Hyundai Sonata. I can, however, assure you that I have depreciated this particular unit enough that it should be really cheap at auction.

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

Fine Line - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: 1.1k words. loosely inspired by "Fine Line" by Harry Styles. Your relationship with Jake is unconventional. Jake lets himself into your home in the middle of the night after a deployment, you let him into your bed.

Warnings: some angst, language, reader is ex-military, references to 18+ topics but no explicit content, references to a military-related accident that resulted in an honorable discharge, no graphic depictions of aforementioned accident, redemption fluff (?)

a/n: I wrote this in one sitting between my morning lecture and afternoon lecture. I'm really happy with how it turned out :))

master list | join my tag list

The soft sound of the front door creaking open down the short hallway roused you. It wasn’t so much the near-silent sound, but rather the infinitesimal shift in the air.

You’d never been a good sleeper anyway.

You probably should’ve been alarmed. You lived alone, and you weren’t expecting anyone. Much less at 2:38 a.m., according to the glaring red alarm clock on your nightstand. Still half asleep, you did the math in your head. He was deployed 6 weeks ago. Based on the average time it took for landing procedures and debrief meetings, he probably returned to base from God knows where within the past 3 hours. And now he was here.

Down in the unlit foyer—if you could even call it that, the townhouse was hardly bigger than a postage stamp and the entryway was no exception—Jake toed off his standard-issued combat boots. You aren’t a clean freak, but you’d prefer not to have asphalt and remnants of jet fuel tracked across your floors. Years in the service ensured that your living space was always ready for inspection, for better or worse. Even after you retired, the habits stuck with you.

Just like being a light sleeper.

He padded silently down the hallway towards your room. The knob turned and he pushed the door open, wincing as its hinges whined in protest.

Jake wasn’t surprised that you were awake, staring at him as he entered the room. He didn’t text you or give any indication ahead of time to let you know he’d be coming over. Given that it was a Friday night–well, early Saturday morning–anyone else might’ve reached out first for permission. Or to at least confirm they wouldn’t be intruding on time with a different overnight guest. But Jake never did.

You had an unspoken agreement that neither of you would see anyone else. It was a delicate dance, a fine line that the two of you traced across. Having no label, as was made clear by Jake years ago, but feeling an overwhelming unnamed feeling, a sense of obligation and loyalty kept the two of you from venturing outside the bounds of your non-relationship.

“Hi,” he whispered, gravel in his tone. You couldn’t see the dark circles underneath his eyes or barely present wrinkles forming on his forehead in the darkness, but you could imagine they were there. Jake liked to pretend that the stress didn’t get to him. Like he was unaffected by the atrocities he saw and was forced to commit thousands of feet above the rest of the sane world. Like he was invincible. But you knew better. You knew he had nightmares, like most service members. Most of his missions were entirely confidential and on a need-to-know basis. In the eyes of the United States Navy, you did not need to know. Jake was true to his oath. Sworn to secrecy, and never even slightly indicated something that civilians should know. Being a veteran somehow lumped you into that category.

You hummed in response. Barely audible, but certainly there. Your limbs were tired. Aching. Rehab and physical therapy could only do so much to help you after the accident, but you were doing okay now. You wordlessly pulled the sheets back as you scooted over on the mattress, making room for Jake. He chastely stripped down to his boxers before joining you under the sheets. It was cool, but it didn’t surprise him. You always ran cold. Ironically, he always ran hot, in temperature and temper.

No one spoke as he inched closer to you, the movement magnetic. Rustling sheets and the gentle hum of the window AC unit softly filled the room. 2:40 a.m.

Jake teased you when he was here last. “You oughta get your central AC fixed. That window unit is annoying, darlin’. Don’t know how you sleep with it running like that,” he chided while absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair. It had become mussed from your previous activities, but that was the last thing on your mind; you took a break from memorizing his unguarded face to roll your eyes. Your landlord was useless, and a bit of an asshole. You’d both established this the last time you needed something fixed. Jake ended up taking care of it for you anyway, like he always did.

2:41 a.m. He wrapped his arms around you, and you let him. Your hand came up to brush a few stray strands of his usually perfectly styled hair out of his face. It was still damp. You imagine he did what he had to at base, probably begrudgingly going through the motions. It was late and he could feel the weeks-long worth of exhaustion in his bones. After the last meeting that nearly did him in, he showered and came straight here. Driving in the state he was in probably wasn’t the best idea. But the roads were quiet and he needed to be near you. He wouldn’t have slept anyway.

You knew one day the fine line you toed, the relationship that refused to be defined would break one of you, if not both. He’d probably throw himself even deeper into his career and go back to his old habits, picking up a new girl every weekend at whatever bar he inevitably ended up at. You’d probably distract yourself and go back to grad school on Uncle Sam’s dime. Maybe you’d study physical therapy. Or mental health therapy. The patient becomes the practitioner.

There was only one way the two of you got out of this unscathed, and Jake was too fucked up to commit. He knew it would hurt you, but he was selfish. He knew you deserved better. He didn’t think he could be better.

As he pulled you further against his warm chest, tucking your head and hair that smelled like home underneath his chin, you snuggled against him deeper. Soft, yet rugged skin that stretched across his defined pecs met your ear. You listened to the steady beating of his heart–proof that he had one–lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.

His hand caressed your back, holding you tighter against him. His breathing evened out and you knew he was asleep. Daring to glance up at his finally peaceful face and aching to become one, you decide this is enough for now.

PLEASE LMK WHAT YOU THINK! Your comments & reblogs really mean the world to me <3

to get notified about new fics, follow @thesewordsxupdates & turn on post notifications :)

[fortheloveofwonderland]

In This Diary | S.R

Summary - The summer of ‘02 was supposed to be just like any summer that had come before. Spencer Reid was mostly hoping to relax before his started his new job at the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the fall. But best laid plans often go awry.

Now all these years later he’s come into possession of the diary he kept during that time and he’s forced on a trip down memory lane to a perfect Las Vegas summer in which he fell in love for the very first time. But if he’s not careful, he might allow himself to get so lost in his nostalgia he may not be able to drag himself back to the present.

A/N - this goes back and forth a lot in time, I hope it makes sense. Where there’s a page break it goes back to the present day. Based on the song In This Diary by The Ataris. Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge. Thank you again @pinkiceee-prose and @andiebeaword for reading over this 🖤

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with happy ending | strangers to friends to lovers | smut minors DNI

Warnings - post prison, pot smoking, virgin Spencer, slight sub! Spencer, use of “good boy”, mild praise kink (Spencer), handjob, swearing, fingering, masturbation (m), brief mention of medication but no specifics, talk of PTSS, angst, allusions to sex, brief mention of protected sex, oral (m receiving), brief mention of past addiction and Emily’s “death”.

WC - 10.3k honestly I can’t write anything short

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…

The dogeared, weathered pages told their age beneath his fingertips, speaking their tales through skin. Smudged ink seeped through the yellowing paper, penned words of a different time etched to hold their memory. 

His fingers danced across them as though reading braille, trying to feel the words the way he had when he'd written them. So much time had passed, so much had changed, this book felt like it was from a different lifetime.

If he closed his eyes he could feel himself there. He could feel the way the hot Vegas sun beat down on him, causing little beads of sweat to roll down his face, feeling it tightening his skin. He could sense the pen in his hand as he scrawled down his thoughts, committing them to these pages. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

He could feel the gravel beneath him, hear the occasional passing vehicle on the freeway whilst hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time. 

He could see fireworks illuminating the sky in desolate parking lots, hear their crackle and bang as they exploded and then disappeared. 

He could hear the thrum of the eighties songs through tinny speakers, even if he never really enjoyed them. He could feel the droplets of water on his frazzled skin from the splash back of a body diving into the hotel pool which was not strictly open to the public. 

It was another life, one he’d long ago left behind but still carried pieces of it with him. 

I guess when it comes down to it, being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up…

“Whatcha got there?” 

A voice snapped him out of his nostalgia and he quickly closed the old book and looked up from his desk. He blinked a few times to try and bring himself back to the present, back from memory lane which he’d started to get lost down. 

Spencer Reid was not known to be a sentimental man, in all honesty he had few good memories from his past to be wistful over. And now was not the time to start. 

Luke had an amused smirk on his lips as he looked down at the younger man and the old, tattered journal on his desk. 

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” Spencer swallowed with a shake of his head. 

“Looked like a diary.” Luke’s smile grew, his intense dark eyes full of mirth. “I saw a date in the corner? August twenty ninth two thousand and two. You'd have been…”

“Twenty two. I was twenty two. The summer before I joined the BAU.” He sighed as he spoke, not thrilled to be sharing this part of his life with Luke. 

It was unfounded, given that it was probably the happiest time of his life. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want his friends to know about it. 

There was something about keeping the memory pure, not having it sullied by outsiders. That secret summer belonged only to the two people who had lived it. 

“I didn't peg you for a journaler.” Luke shrugged. 

“I’m not usually. I don’t really know why I kept a diary that summer.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d kept a record of those days in case, for whatever reason, his memory failed him. If something happened to cause his brain to forget, that was one time in his life he wanted to ensure he’d never lose. 

And since his mothers diagnosis, it was an entirely real possibility that one day he may forget. There were many moments in his life he’d like to be able to neglect, his drug addiction, Gideon’s death, prison; but the summer of ‘02 was not one of them. 

In truth he’d forgotten all about the journal. It wasn’t until his mothers move to DC when he’d been going through old boxes of her stuff that he’d found it. 

“Can I read it?” Luke’s smile turned cheeky, he already knew what the answer would be but he was just trying his luck. 

As expected, Spencer scowled, grabbing the diary and holding it close to his chest as if he believed Luke might try to snatch it from his desk.

“Absolutely not.” He wrapped it tightly against his body. 

“Ooh there’s some juicy stuff in there.” Luke chuckled.

“Don’t be crude.” Spencer scoffed but his cheeks started to redden, conveying the truth. 

“Oh man, I’m right aren’t I?” Luke’s laughter grew. 

It increased in volume enough to grant the attention from the others who had been silently working away at their desks. 

“What’s going on?” JJ perked up, her blonde head of hair appearing behind her computer monitor. 

“Reid’s got a sex diary.” Luke spoke over his shoulder to the whole bullpen.

“I most certainly do not.” His cheeks burned with his embarrassment and he shrunk a little in his chair. 

“Reid? Spencer Reid?” Tara stood from her desk, eyebrow cocked in her blatant confusion. “No way, I don’t believe that.”

“Good, because it's not true.” He held the journal closer to his chest. 

“He’s hiding something in there, there’s a reason he won’t let me read it.” Luke scoffed. 

“Did it occur to you that some people don’t enjoy sharing their entire life story?” Spencer grumbled.

By now JJ and Matt were on their feet too, and the three other agents closed in on his desk. He was thankful at least Emily, Rossi and Garcia were in their respective offices. He shrunk lower in his chair, wishing he were able to simply vanish into thin air. 

“Oh he’s definitely hiding something.” Tara folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow still raised in a combination of suspicion and delight.

“So what if I am? I’m entitled to my secrets.” Spencer complained. 

“The last time you kept a secret from us you ended up in prison.” JJ’s shoulders slumped, wincing a little at her own words. 

“This isn’t…it’s not like that.” He shook his head. “It’s just memories okay? Memories of a great summer I had before I joined the bureau and I’d like to keep them to myself.” 

“Oh it’s totally a sex diary.” Matt chuckled heartily. 

“For the love of…” Spencer trailed off, pushing himself to his feet and tucking the journal under his arm. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Can you please just respect my privacy for once? I know how hard that is for you guys.” 

“Ouch,” JJ pouted. “Sorry for caring.” 

“Jennifer, we both know this has nothing to do with you caring about me.” He clucked, pushing past the gaggle of his friends and marching out of the bullpen. 

He felt them watching him, muttering under their breaths as he walked away. He hurried down the corridor out of view until he pushed his way into the men’s bathroom. 

He slumped into a stall and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. Placing the old leather bound diary in his lap he ran his fingers over the cover. 

He didn’t know why he’d let himself get so worked up over a stupid journal. Except it wasn’t stupid, far from it. It was his collection of memories from a life he wished he could go back and relive. 

The twenty two year old who’d put pen to these pages was naive and innocent, his whole life ahead of him. The boy he’d been back then didn’t know of the horrors he was yet to face. It was a much simpler time and he wanted to be able to cling to that without his friends being involved. 

For fourteen years his team had been privy to every moment of his life, good and bad. Was it so wrong that Spencer wanted to just keep this one thing to himself? 

He huffed out a staggered breath, wishing not for the first time that just cared a little less. It made sense when he was younger, he’d been green when he joined the FBI and the team had treated him with kid gloves, probably rightfully so. But he was a grown man now, older and more worldly, he didn’t need them treating him like a child.

He cracked the spine of the journal, opening it up to the first page and continued caressing the worn page with his fingers. The diary began at the end, retrospectively writing of his adventures during the last week of that summer when he realised he didn’t want those memories to escape him. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters.

Here in this diary he had meticulously journalled everything that transpired during his last few months in his hometown and how those moments had changed his life forever. He cautiously turned the page, careful not to tear the aged paper. 

He felt the heat rising, the sun high in the sky. He became aware of the somewhat blistering concrete beneath him, the occasional sound of passing cars. He could make out the scent of sunblock in the air, chlorine from nearby backyard swimming pools. 

Brushing his digits across the page he was transported away from Virginia, away from the bathroom on the sixth floor Quantico office. As he closed his eyes, the Las Vegas summer stretched out before him.

June 2nd 2002

The temperature edged over a hundred two days ago and the AC hasn’t worked in three years. Really need to sell the house, I must look into that when I get to DC. Mom hasn’t lived here since I sent her off to Bennington and this was the last summer I’d be needing it. 

It was cooler to sit outside, despite the humidity, it was preferable to the stuffy house with no AC. I planned to go to the library, basking in its glorious air conditioning unit but after stepping outside and immediately feeling the sweat gathering all over my skin, I decided against walking for five miles in this heat. 

And boy would I be glad for that decision. 

I’m not sure what it was that tore my attention away from the Great Gatsby that morning. I had this feeling, this inexplicable feeling running through my veins and forcing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention. 

And when I looked up, there she was. It was as though she was floating, drifting so effortlessly across the street I was sure her feet didn’t touch the ground. She regarded me curiously, most people did. She was unblinking, a slow and cautious smile building on her lips. 

I simply stared back in awe at this angelic creature heading my way, never letting her gaze falter from me. I was stunned into silence as she approached up the front path, head tilting to the side as she analysed me. 

She invited herself closer, up the three concrete stairs before dropping to the top step right next to me, opening her mouth and inquisitively speaking…

“What are you reading?” You smiled at him in what you hoped to be an amicable manner, but nonetheless his back straightened as if you posed a threat to him. 

“Uh…” he swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing. “Me?” 

“Yes you.” You laughed. “Who else would I be talking to?” 

The peculiar man looked around like he expected someone else to be sitting on his stoop with the two of you. He scratched at the back of his neck nervously. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He rolled his chapped lip between his teeth. 

“I’m Y/N.” You shook your head, still laughing a little at his obvious awkwardness. 

“Sp-Spencer.” He stuttered. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer.” You nodded curtly. “I’m house sitting for my aunt for the summer, what’s good to do around here?” 

Her smile could have lit up the whole night sky, her laugh the sweetest sound I’d ever been lucky enough to hear. She was summer, she would still be summer in the dead of winter. She was magnetic, effervescent. 

She was the first drop of rain after a long drought, she was those first few seconds in the morning when you wake up where you momentarily forget all of life's problems. She was…

“Reid, you in here? We got a case.” Luke’s voice broke him out of his revere, eyes flickering off of the page up to the closed stall door. 

“I’ll be right there.” He croaked, closing the diary again. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled until his lungs were full. He counted to five in his head and listened for the door to close before he slowly exhaled. He repeated the action three more times before he trusted himself to stand. 

He swore he could still smell your perfume as he forced his way out of the bathroom and back to reality. 

***

June 14th 2002

All the nights we stayed up talking, listening to 80's songs. It still brings a smile to my face. 

Her aunt's house, which I came to learn was just up the street and had a new, state of the art AC unit fitted. The next two weeks we spent nearly everyday there listening to her favourite songs on the old stereo, most of which I’d never heard before. 

The likes of Van Halen, The Cure, AC/DC and The Pixies played on repeat while she quizzed me on my life and I on hers. She was from San Francisco and her aunt was on vacation so she’d offered to house sit for the summer. She was a year younger than me at twenty one and fresh out of college with no idea where she was heading next.

I kind of envied her, she was a free spirit, she could go anywhere she wanted, do anything she wanted. And for whatever reason, she chose to spend her summer with me.

You hummed along to the music, Where is My Mind by the Pixies encompassing the room. You laid on your back on the couch, your feet in Spencer’s lap and the AC sending its cool waves towards you.

You cradled the blunt between your fingertips, every now and again raising it to your lips and sucking on it. The room was filling with smoke, the smell of it alone enough to make Spencer a little light headed. 

“You sure you don’t want any of this?” You spoke with a lungful smoke. 

“I’m good, really.” Spencer smiled his tight-lipped smile you’d grown accustomed to the last few weeks. 

“It would be out of your system before you start your big government job.” You giggled. 

“It’s not just that.” He shook his head. “Smoking marijuana at our age while our brains are still technically developing can affect IQ. A study showed that those who started smoking pot before twenty five lost six to eight IQ points by middle age.” 

You sat up on your elbows, your eyebrows deeply furrowed at him.

“You think it’s really going to affect your life so much if you lose a couple of IQ points, Doc?” Your lip quipped up into a smile. 

“I don’t want to risk it.” Spencer noted your slightly bloodshot eyes. 

You took another long drag, the sound of the paper crackling as it burnt filled his ears. You breathed it in before slowly exhaling the smoke out into the room. 

“Hmm,” you hummed in content, dropping the half smoked blunt into a little glass dish on the coffee table. “Now I feel light as a feather.” 

“You could get that feeling in many other ways. The main psychoactive ingredient, THC, is simply stimulating the part of the brain that responds to pleasure. It’s releasing dopamine which is what’s giving you that euphoric feeling.” He told you almost sternly.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, sitting up further so you could get a good look at him. 

“Pleasure, huh?” You clicked your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “It’s the same way you would respond to food or…”

“Or?” Your lip twitched.

“Other pleasurable activities.” He swallowed again, his cheeks turning slightly pink. 

You swung your legs off of his lap and shuffled closer to him on the couch. You saw him swallow yet again, noticed his chest heave with a deep breath. 

The closer you got to him the more you could feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves and you dared move so you were straddling his lap. 

Your knees pressing either side of his thighs, you wrapped your arms around his neck and a hagged breath left between his pouty lips. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour now and from this position in his lap you knew exactly why. 

“Spence?” You whispered as he looked at you in embarrassment. 

It would be painfully obvious from where you were sitting that he was aroused and he felt so incredibly vulnerable in that moment. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He croaked. 

“What other pleasurable activities are you talking about?” 

“I think…I think you know.” 

“Hmm let’s pretend I don’t.” You smiled coyly. “After all, I’ve probably knocked off a few IQ points right? What other pleasurable activities?” 

You rolled your hips a little in his lap and Spencer mewled at the sensation. This was the closest he’d ever come to having someone other than himself touch him and he felt dizzy. He felt so dizzy that when he spoke, he wasn’t sure he’d even meant to let the word slip off his tongue. 

“S-sex.” He breathed, the smile on your face growing in approval. 

“Well now, that does sound more appealing than smoking.” You edged your face closer to him, rolling your hips into his lap once more. 

He smelt your perfume and the pot on your breath. He felt like his skin was on fire and he couldn’t form a coherent thought. 

A moment before you lips touched his, the sound of a phone ring cut through the room and you sprung apart suddenly. 

Spencer remained sitting on the couch while you ambled over to the landline. He watched you go, half wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. 

But the erection still visible through his slacks begged to differ. 

***

He returned the journal to his satchel as the jet came into land near Dallas. He knew word of his mysterious diary had reached Emily and Rossi and the whole team had been watching him read on the flight. 

He tried to cast his memories to the back of his mind and focus on the case, people were being murdered and that had to take precedence over his nostalgic thoughts. 

Emily sent him and Rossi to the morgue and Spencer tried to pretend he was focused on a case file while Rossi drove them. He could see the older man looking at him in his peripheral vision. 

Thankfully Rossi did not ask him about the journal even though Spencer knew he wanted to. 

It was in the back of his mind all day and after he retired to his hotel room and showered, he found himself thumbing through to the next page. 

July 1st 2002

Breaking into hotel swimming pools, and wreaking havoc on our world. Does it make me completely dumb that I would follow her to the ends of the earth? 

I knew it was a bad idea, but I just can’t say no to her. She said she had something fun planned and so like an idiot I came along. 

I didn’t say anything when we jumped the fence. It was around eleven pm and all the lights around the pool were out, the stars and the moon reflecting on the still water. 

I still didn’t say anything when she started stripping down to her underwear, mostly because it rendered me speechless. The sight of her in nothing but that skimpy black lace lingerie caused me to forget my own name and I’m sure I just stared at her slack jaw. 

It’s been a few weeks since I think she tried to kiss me and she hasn’t said anything about it. I’m starting to think I misread the situation entirely. 

At least I was, until she stripped off her clothes by the side of the pool and curled her finger at me, beckoning me closer.

“You fancy a dip, Spencer?” Your voice was breathy and he followed your motion to come closer. 

“Uh, won’t we get in trouble?” He padded forward all the same. 

“Only if we get caught.” You giggled, reaching for him as soon as he was close enough. 

You gripped him by the lapels of his shirt to tug him forward before your fingers glided towards the top button. He stared at you without a word while you effortlessly popped the buttons one by one. 

Once you’d gotten the last button undone your hands moved to his shoulders and you helped push the fabric down his arms until it dropped to the floor. 

He was painfully skinny but it didn’t stop him from subconsciously sucking in his small stomach. Your eyes grazed up and down his torso, taking in every inch of skin.

He felt hot beneath your gaze despite the fact the temperature plummeted at night. He felt self conscious, not worthy of your eyes on him. But when you met his gaze again you were smiling. 

When your hands landed on the button of his slacks his breath hitched and his legs wobbled slightly. You giggled again, a sound that had become Spencer’s favourite melody over the past month. 

You made quick work of the button and zipper before hooking your fingers in the side of his pants and shimming them down his legs. 

Spencer stayed still and silent while you undressed him until his pants pooled at his feet and he kicked off his converse so he could remove them completely. 

His hands darted in front of him, trying to hide the exceedingly noticeable tenting in his tight boxers. He could tell you knew what he was trying to hide by the playful smile now on your lips. 

It was an all too regular occurrence around you. You only had to glance at him a certain way and he would be standing at full attention. It wasn’t his fault, you were unfairly beautiful. 

Suddenly you turned your back on him, floating as you so often did towards the pool. Before Spencer’s brain could catch up you were diving into the still water, causing ripples to roll out across the pool. 

A few droplets splashed up onto his face and chest. While you were submerged he moved closer to the edge and slipped into the cool water before you could have a chance to scrutinise his body again. 

When you emerged you wiped your hair off your face and found Spencer in the pool, leaning back against the wall. The water wasn’t too deep but he crouched down so it was covering him up to his chest. 

You waded towards him, eyes sparkling from the moonlight. He pushed himself back against the side of the pool, his nerves written all over his face. 

“Everything okay, Doc?” You asked as you neared him. 

“Fine, just fine.” He nodded stiffly. 

“You sure about that?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, moving dangerously closer. 

“Hmm mmm.” He tried to insist but you weren’t buying it. 

Your eyes were dark by the time you were right in front of him, almost black. The smile on your face was sinful and it made Spencer’s knees weak. 

No one had ever looked at him the way you were looking at him at that moment. He may be naive but he knew exactly what that look meant. And as if to prove that point, your right hand disappeared under the water and seconds later it was palming him through his underwear.

A pathetic whimper left his lips at the contact even though there was a layer of wet fabric between him and your hand. 

Your smile grew at his reaction, your other hand now moving to grip his shoulder. Spencer’s arms remained at his sides, his breathing already heightened. 

“Spencer?” You whispered. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

He rolled his lip between his teeth and shook his head dispondantly.

“No,” he confessed. “I, uh, I’ve never even…kissed anyone before.” 

He felt the heat spreading to his cheeks and he was painfully aware of your hand still palming him. Your smile turned a little sad, pitying almost. 

“You want to change that?” Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. 

“Y-yes.” He nodded. “Yes p-please.” 

“So polite,” you stepped even closer. “Such a good boy.” 

When your lips finally touched his, he whined against them, feeling an explosion of emotions in one simple action. Your tongue easily made its way into his mouth and your hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head. 

You kissed him fiercely, exploring his mouth with hunger. Spencer didn’t do much of anything, simply stood limply while you kissed the air from his lungs. 

He continued to whine against your lips when your hand started moving around his shaft. His hips started to rock against you of their own accord and he so desperately wished there wasn’t a piece of fabric in his way. 

As though you could read his mind your hand shifted and your fingers trailed across his stomach just about the waistband of his boxers. He moaned deeply and you pulled back from the kiss, a questioning expression on your features.

“Can I?” You panted as you spoke, nodding your head downwards. 

All Spencer could do was nod dumbly in response. 

You smiled before leaning in to kiss him again, somehow more ferociously than before. When your hand slid inside the sodden material of his boxers and wrapped around his length an animalistic moan erupted from his lips, swallowed down in your own mouth. 

Your small hand couldn’t quite reach all the way around his thick shaft as you started moving up and down on it. His hips started bucking harder than before, telling you he enjoyed it. 

His brain was mush, he couldn’t form a single coherent thought except how phenomenal your hand felt. His lack of awareness allowed him a little more confidence and he finally moved his arms, his hands finding your face and holding you while he kissed you. 

You smiled against his lips, the water started to lap around your bodies with your movements. You kept up a steady pace as you stroked him while removing one of his hands from your face. 

He let you guide his hand over the planes of your body until it was situated between your legs. He inhaled sharply, having to tear his lips away from yours. 

You were both panting as you looked at each other, his breathing staggered due to the way you were touching him. His hand was still between your legs, ghosting outside of your panties.

“You…you’re sure?” He breathed erratically. 

“Very.” You nodded, increasing your speed and eliciting another feral moan from Spencer. 

“I…I’ve never done this before.” 

“You strike me as a quick learner.” You smirked. 

“F-fuck…” he mumbled. “I…I am.” 

“Make me feel good, Spence. Be a good boy for me.” 

Your words of praise made him hiss, bucking hard into your hand. It was enough encouragement for him to inch your panties aside before his fingers slid beneath the fabric. 

You were surprised to say the least when one of his digits quickly found your clit and started rubbing it deftly, as though he’d done this hundreds of times before. 

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, your grip on him faltering for a second at the sensation. 

“Fuck…” you whined, trying to focus on your strokes. “You…you sure you’ve never done that before?” 

“P-positive.” He nodded, his knees buckling as he felt precome leaking from his head. “S’good?” 

“So good, baby. So good.” You crashed your lips together again as he increased his speed, rubbing your sensitive bud like he’d been doing it his whole life. 

You squeezed the base of his shaft before matching his speed with your strokes. You were moaning into each other's waiting mouths, water frantically lapping around your bodies. 

You whined when his finger disappeared from your clit but soon two of his digits were swiping through your folds. When you felt them pressed against your entrance, begging for access, you nibbled on his bottom lip and squeezed his cock again telling him to continue. 

You moaned in unison as his two long, slender fingers entered you. Spencer felt as though he might pass out at the sensation as his fingers pushed all the way inside of you. 

He felt your shift and move around him, your walls fluttering against his digits. That combined with the way you were frenziedly pumping him caused his stomach to tighten with the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. 

“Oh my gosh you feel so incredible.” He whined, plunging his fingers deeper inside you. 

You felt him twitching in your hand, still lazily rocking into your touch. 

“Are you close, baby?” Your thighs squeezed around his hand. 

“Y-yes.” He admitted, fingers coniniting to move in and out of you, desperate to give you as much pleasure as you were bestowing upon him. 

“Come for me, Spence. Come for me.” 

He whimpered again, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t hold back any longer even if he wanted to. 

With a staggered moan his hips jut forward as he came in the pool, while you stroked him through his first orgasm not at his own hand. 

***

In a hotel room just outside of Dallas, Spencer narrowly managed to move the journal out of the way just in time for him to spill his load over his own hand. 

He fell back against the lumpy pillows, breathing heavily and his hand still slowly moving up and down his spent shaft. 

He glanced at the diary through hazy eyes and shook his head, removing his hand from his cock and wiping his seed on the bed sheet.

He swore he could feel your hand there even after all these years, feel the water splashing around his naked torso. 

He could feel you around his fingers, the way you clenched tighter as you came not so long after he did. 

He could still feel the weight of your body as you fell against him in the pool, head nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you panted heavily into his wet skin. 

Things had been so much simpler then, he sometimes yearned for those days. A part of him wished he hadn’t found the journal in the first place then maybe he wouldn’t have found himself sucked down this particular rabbit hole. 

Despite the memories swarming his brain he fell asleep without even cleaning himself off, one hand on his rapidly beating heart and the other clutching the battered diary. 

***

July 4th 2002

Lighting fireworks in parking lots, illuminates the blackest nights. Cherry cokes under this moonlit summer sky. 

I suggested going to an organised event for the Fourth of July celebrations but she insisted that we have our own. 

She brought a ton of fireworks, it was a wonder she didn’t blow a hand off that night, fumbling to light them whilst dragging on a blunt.

But I simply watched her from the back of her aunt’s old VW Camper, sipping on my coke in absolute awe of her every move. 

Since our pool escapades the other day, every time I look at her I get chills. Every time I catch sight of her I think of the way she felt as she touched me, as I touched her…

She hasn’t even so much as kissed me since and I’m partially wondering if it was all a vivid dream. At least I was until tonight. 

You sauntered back over towards the open back doors of your camper where Spencer sat cross legged on a blanket. 

Seconds later an array of fireworks erupted in the sky over the abandoned parking lot, the sounds and the colours a feast for the senses. 

But you weren’t watching them. You were watching him. 

You crawled into the back of the van, right into his lap, straddling him as you took a long pull on the joint. You inhaled the smoke and tossed the butt over your shoulder before placing your hands on his shoulders. 

When you kissed him the smoke filtered out of your mouth and into his but he didn’t care. His arms wrapped around your waist while your tongues explored each other's mouths. 

You guided him backwards so he was laying down, his cock already fully erect and pressing against you. You laid on top of him and continued to kiss him fiercely. 

His hands found purchase on your back, gently holding you close. You were grinding against him causing him to moan into your mouth and squirm beneath you. 

He knew where this would inevitably lead if he let it. He wanted to, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of being a virgin forever and you were the first woman to ever show him this kind of attention.

But he didn’t want to just be another guy to you. He didn’t want to just be a quick lay you’d forget all about. And inevitably that’s what would happen.

It wasn’t something the two of you talked about often but at the end of summer you were going back to San Francisco and he was going to DC. If he slept with you that’s all it would ever be. And he didn’t want that. 

You continued to kiss him and grind against him but his intrusive thoughts got the better of him and all the blood that had previously been flowing south rerouted itself. He didn’t even realise until you sat back and looked at him curiously.

“Is everything okay?” You breathed heavily, lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He frowned up at you. 

“Uh…” Your eyes flicked down towards his crotch at the same time he realised he was completely flaccid. 

His cheeks burnt and he cursed his overactive brain. 

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to sit back up. 

You slid off of his lap and sat next to him while he drew his legs close to his body. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I’m sorry if I come on a little strong.” You shrugged meekly. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m never going to see again once summer is over.” He cringed at his own words, at how needy and sad he sounded. 

Your expression turned pitying and it made him feel even more stupid. 

“I get it.” You smiled softly. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s kinda hard not to be.” He buried his head into his knees and hugged his arms around his shins. “I’m sure most guys, normal guys, would jump at the chance to be with a woman as beautiful as you. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do, I was always so much younger than my peers so it made sense. I wasn’t waiting or anything, not deliberately. But now the opportunity has presented itself, I don’t think I’m the casual sex kind of guy. God that sounds so lame.” 

You were smiling to yourself at how adorable he was. With his face against his knees his words were muffled but you caught the gist of them. 

You shuffled closer to him and placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his face back up so he would look at you. 

“I think that’s kinda noble.” You whispered.

“I think the word you’re looking for is sad.” He huffed. 

“No, it’s not.” You let go of his face. “I understand, Spencer. I wish I’d waited, I wish I’d waited for someone like you.” 

He let you wrap your arms around him and he leant against your chest while you held him. Off in the distance fireworks continued to illuminate the sky, the far off sound of their explosions a strange comfort. 

***

Spencer rubbed his eyes with his palms somewhat aggressively after almost an hour of staring at the map of their unsubs hunting ground. 

Despite falling asleep quickly last night his peace had been short lived and he’d woken less than two hours later and couldn’t get back to sleep. 

He didn’t know why he was letting the diary affect him in such a way, shouldn’t it have the opposite result? Those entries were from the best days of his life, but maybe it served as a reminder that he could never go back to that time.

He wasn’t that naive kid anymore, he’d suffered one too many traumas in his life to ever be that kid again. Back then his most difficult decision was whether or not to have sex with a beautiful woman. He longed to have such trivial problems. 

He’d felt so stupid after the night of the fourth of July he had avoided you for two weeks after. He’d wasted what precious time the two of you had together feeling idiotic over his decision to turn you down and hidden out in the public library just to circumvent any further interaction with you. 

He turned to face the room, realising he was alone in the small meeting room. Last he checked JJ and Luke were at the table going over files, when had they left? 

He frowned to himself, reaching for his satchel and pulling the journal out, flipping to the next page. 

July 19th 2002

Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up, these are the best days of our lives. The only thing that matters is just following your heart, and eventually you'll finally get it right.

He closed his eyes with a shake of his head. Wasn’t that the painful truth? He’d written that particular entry with a smile on his face like the cat that got the cream. That date had been the best of his whole whirlwind summer. 

After stewing in his stupidity for two weeks he had shown up at your aunt's house unexpected and uninvited. You’d barely let him inside before he’d kissed you. And it wasn’t long at all before he was leading you back to the couch. 

“Spence, what’s going on?” You panted, looking up at him from where you laid on the couch. 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” He was fumbling a little with the buttons of his shirt, hands noticeably shaking. 

“But I thought…you said you didn’t want this? And then you don’t talk to me for weeks and now you-”

“I was overthinking, I do that a lot. But I don’t want to overthink this.” He finished unbuttoning the shirt and dropped it to the floor before climbing on top of you and kissing you again.

“You’re sure?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Extremely.” He replied.

He snapped the journal closed before he could get carried away. He didn’t exactly go into graphic detail of what transpired on your aunt’s couch that day but it was certainly not safe for work material. 

He didn’t need to read the words anyway, he’d memorised everything about that day. He learnt by heart the way your skin felt against his, the way the two of you melted together as though your bodies somehow became one. He’d retained every little detail of how you felt, every tiny movement of your body as he’d made love to you. 

He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. 

Just as he was slotting the diary back into his satchel, trying not to get caught up in the blissful memory, the door opened and JJ strolled in carrying two take out coffee cups. She smiled at him, handing him one of the drinks. He smiled at her in thanks.

Her eyes flitted to his open bag and the diary nestled inside. When she looked back at him she had an amused expression on her face.

“So, sex diary, huh?” She chuckled lightly.

“It is nothing of the sort.” He rolled his eyes.

“Alvez is convinced otherwise.” 

“Well Alvez doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Summer of oh-two right?” She narrowed her eyes on him, the way she did when she was trying to profile him.

“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee. 

“Wasn’t that-”

“Yes.” He cut her off. 

The summer I met the love of my life. 

He’d told JJ snippets from that summer, she was the only one who he’d ever told. She knew as much as he’d met a wonderful woman who he’d lost his virginity to and over the course of a summer had fallen in love with her. As far as he knew she’d never told anyone. 

“So why has it gotten you so tetchy? I would have thought you’d like to relive those days?” She slid into one of the chairs sipping her own coffee but her scrutinising gaze stayed on him.

He let out a haggard sigh, taking a seat next to her and using his free hand to swipe his hair back off of his face.

“Do you ever feel like the best days of your life have passed you by?” He found himself asking. 

JJ’s expression softened, a melancholy smile adorned on her lips. She sat forward slightly in the chair.

“Is that really what you think?” She placed a gentle hand on his knee and she felt him tense up at her touch.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” He wiggled his nose, a gesture he did when he was uncomfortable. “I guess I just miss being that carefree.”

“Spencer Reid, carefree? Can’t picture it.” JJ laughed around her cup.

“Fine, maybe not carefree.” He chuckled too. “But not…this. I’m worried I’m never going to bounce back from prison. I went to therapy, I took the medication, I should be over it by now.”

“Spence, you have PTSS, that doesn’t just go away. You know as well as I do, probably better, that the symptoms can be managed, that it can remain dormant for months, even years. But the trauma you suffered is what evoked your PTSS and that doesn’t leave you. You’ll probably always be dealing with it in one way or another.” JJ squeezed his knee before Spencer moved out of her touch. 

He knew what she was saying was right and that’s what made it harder to hear. PTSS was something he would always live with, something that could always be triggered in the future. He’d created coping mechanisms, dealt with his trauma but it didn’t make it go away, it would never just vanish into thin air. He could never undo the damage that had already been done. 

“I thought reading that journal would help me feel like my old self but it’s having the opposite effect. Because I’m never going to be that kid again.” He shook his head sadly. 

“And why would you want to be?” JJ scoffed.

“Excuse me?” He frowned at her.

“Spence, I knew you at twenty two. You were painfully shy and awkward. It took you years to be able to look me in the eye. You’ve changed so much in the years I’ve known you and that’s not a bad thing. You’re better at your job, you’re a better man now than you were at twenty two, you have to see that?” She hoped her words were getting through, hoped he would listen to her before he fell into a self pity spiral he may never get out of. 

He exhaled shakily, taking another sip of coffee while he tried to come up with a response. But he didn’t have to, as soon the door was opening again and Luke entered the room. And Spencer quickly jumped up and returned to his map, effectively shutting down any further conversation on the subject. 

***

August 6th 2002

Hanging out at truck stops, just to pass the time. Watching the slew of cars fly by on the freeway, eating bags of chips while she tossed stones out into the rolling desert beyond us. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” He asked you as you flung another stone off into the distance. 

You turned to face him, both sitting in the gravel, leaning up against the side of the truck stop building. 

“Why not?” You quipped. 

“There are countless other more interesting things in Las Vegas than sitting at a truck stop. You’re only here a few more weeks and I thought you wanted to see the city?” 

“I have seen the city.” 

“You’ve seen abandoned parking lots, old motel swimming pools and the inside of your aunt’s house.” He shook his head. 

“Hmm,” you mused. “I have been very acquainted with her ceiling these past few weeks.” You winked at him and his cheeks immediately burned at the insinuation. 

It wasn’t a lie. The last couple of weeks the two of you had barely left your aunt’s house in lieu of making the most of each other's company whilst wearing as few clothes as possible. 

Spencer wasn’t strictly complaining about that, sex with you was one of the wonders of the world and he’d happily do it for the rest of his life. But he was painfully aware of what little time you had left together. 

“It’s a pretty good ceiling.” He swallowed thickly, having had his own share of experiences in which he was staring at that ceiling too. 

You giggled and it was literally music to his ears. You tossed another stone before suddenly getting to your feet. 

Spencer followed suit, brushing the dirt off the back of his slacks. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes as you took hold of his hand and started leading him around the side of the building. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, not that it really mattered. He’d long ago realised he would follow you anywhere. 

“You’ll see.” You giggled again, giving his hand a squeeze. 

He followed you inside a grimy and slightly dilapidated bathroom, eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion. 

When you let go of his hand and locked the door, his stomach coiled into knots and his cock immediately started to come to life. 

“Y/N?” He breathed. “What are we…why are we…?” 

You laughed and took him by the hand again, leading him into a stall. The door was coming off of its hinges and the tiled floor was dirty and cracked. You didn’t seem to notice. 

You pushed him up against one of the walls in the stall and started kissing him with ferocity. He kissed you back, trying to ignore the stench of a bathroom that was long overdue for a good clean. 

He didn’t really have much time to dwell on such trivial things however as soon as you were dropping to your knees on the filthy floor and looking up at him through your lashes. 

The simple action had him standing at full attention, his stomach tightly coiled. He’d dreamed of what it would be like to have you go down on him but never imagined it would happen. 

He was too polite to ask and too innocent to assume. But it hadn’t stopped him from imagining it countless times. 

You smiled at him, toying with the button of his slacks and chewing seductively on your lip. 

“Is this what you want, Doc?” You breathed. 

“You have no idea.” He nodded somewhat frantically. 

“Be a good boy and say it for me. I can’t read your mind.” You teased. 

The idea of dirty talking in any way would have normally freaked him out but it had become clear to both of you early on that when you called him a good boy he’d do just about anything. 

“P-please,” he whined, bucking his hips. “Please s-suck my cock.” 

You hissed at his words, teeth sinking deeply into your own lip. 

“Oh you’re so good, Spencer. Such a good boy for me.” You popped the button as a reward. 

“Your good boy.” He agreed with a whimper. 

“My best boy.” You smirked, tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees in one swift move. 

He gasped as the stale air hit his erect cock and pushed himself back against the stall wall. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip as your index finger ghosted up and down the throbbing vein that ran the length of his shaft. 

His knees were already quaking, desperate to feel your lips wrapped around him. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait much longer as soon you bowed your head, parted your lips and took his head into your mouth. 

His eyes rolled back in his head in an instant and the sounds coming from his lips could only be described as feral as you slowly took him all the way in your mouth. 

He yelped when he hit the back of your throat, partly through pleasure and partly through fear he might hurt you. He knew he wasn’t exactly small, not quite so naive as to be blind to the fact he was sporting an above average sized package. 

But to your credit you didn’t even so much as gag and when you looked up at him through your lashes again, nose buried in his pubic hair, he swore you were smiling. 

***

At the back of the jet Spencer tried to rearrange his satchel in his lap to disguise his growing erection from anyone who might pass him by. The mere thought of that day you’d given him his very first blow job was enough to make him strain at the front of his slacks. 

The case in Dallas was wrapped up in just two days despite Spencer’s lack of concentration and he was so pleased to be heading home. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the headrest and trying not to think about that day but failed miserably. 

Getting to come while he had sex with you was incredible, of course, but being inhibited by condoms always left him feeling a little incomplete. But the feeling of coming down your throat, having every last drop of his arousal swallowed down while you smiled at him was out of this world. 

He whimpered a little under his breath, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants. He grit his teeth together hard and opened his eyes in an attempt to focus on something else. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters…

“What are you doing?” You sing-songed, dropping yourself next to him on the couch. 

“Just writing.” He hurried to close the journal before you caught sight of anything.

“Writing what?” Your eyes were sparkling playfully at him. 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” He shrugged, hugging the book to his chest. 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

Three days later, on September first, you’d been leaving Vegas, waving to him from the rear window of the bus taking you to the airport. 

***

September 1st 2002

I don’t know why but some reason I genuinely thought this summer might never end. Time is just a construct right? Maybe this summer could last forever. 

More logically, or maybe less depending on how you look at it, I think I actually thought she’d stay, come with me to DC. I asked her to, although I don’t think she realised I was being serious. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

“I know, I’m just scared for this to end. I…Y/N I have fallen in love with you. Don’t go back to California, come to DC with me instead.”

She’d simply laughed as though I’d told the world's funniest joke, patted me on the shoulder and said, “oh wouldn’t that just be the dream, Doc?” 

That was three days ago and she hasn’t brought it up since and neither have I. And today I helped her with her bags to the bus station so she could leave me forever. 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

“I am gonna miss you, you know, Doc?” You toyed with his lapel, the sweetest of smiles on your face. “I had a way better summer than I planned for.”

“M-me too.” He croaked, stupidly feeling hot tears brewing behind his eyes. 

“Don’t be sad, you’re leaving for Quantico next week. Your dream job, remember? You're going to be saving lives and kicking ass. You’ll forget all about me.” You smiled. 

“Doubtful.” He huffed. 

The engine of the bus roared to life behind the two of you and your smile turned a little sad. You breathed out before leaning in close and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“You have to forget me, Doc. Summers over.” You whispered against his lips and before he could reply you were turning away and sauntering to the doors of the bus. 

His heart constricted in his chest, tears encompassing his vision. Nothing about this was fair even though he’d know all along you’d be leaving. It didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. 

He rubbed his eyes heavily before your face appeared at the back window. You were still smiling but if he didn’t know any better he swore your own eyes were filled with tears. 

The sound of the doors closing caused his chest to tighten further. This was it. It was over. You were leaving. 

As the bus rumbled into gear and started forward, you waved to him and his tears broke free. He raised his hand and waved back while they rolled down his cheeks. 

He stood on the sidewalk waving as the bus started its journey, watching as the only woman he would ever love was cruelly taken away from him. 

***

He rolled his neck as he ascended the stairs to his apartment after a long metro ride home from Quantico. He freed his keys from his satchel, fingertips brushing over the worn leather cover of the journal as he did so. 

He’d never be that innocent twenty two year old again. But was that really such a bad thing? Maybe JJ was right, he was better at his job, he was a better man now than he had been back then. Getting caught up in this wave of nostalgia was foolish.

Ultimately Spencer knew he wouldn’t go back to that age for all the money in the world. That summer might have been the best of his life, but it wasn’t as though his life had been terrible after that. Things sometimes had a way of working themselves out, the universe had its own plan for everyone. 

And despite the trauma thrown his way, the universe hadn’t been entirely merciless towards him. 

He found himself smiling for the first time in days as he slotted the key in his apartment door. He’d been thrown a lot of curveballs in his life, dealt a hand that no one person should have to tackle alone. 

But then he never really had been alone, had he? 

He turned the key and pushed open the door, the light from the lamp next to the couch illuminating the room in the homely glow he loved so much. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee met his nose, wrapping him in its warmth. He smiled brighter, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his satchel. He pulled out the journal and cradled it under his arm. Then he turned towards the couch and the body sat upon it, his smile grew tenfold. 

“Welcome home, Doc.” 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

He continued to wave dumbly as the bus got further away, tears streaking down his cheeks and he feared they may never end. 

He even kept waving when the bus came to an abrupt stop, even carrying on when the doors swung open and you appeared on the sidewalk. 

He finally lowered his hand when you started running towards him, tears rolling from your eyes and a frantic expression on your features. 

“You meant it didn’t you? When you asked me to come to DC with you, you meant it. You meant it and I knew you did but I laughed because I was scared.” You spat out, speaking so fast all your words rolled into one. 

“I did mean it.” He croaked, scared to reach for you in case you vanished in a puff of smoke. “And I also meant it when I told you I love you.” 

“I, uh…” your voice cracked and you scuffed your toe on the concrete. “Would it be utterly crazy if I did come with you to DC?”

“Probably.” He nodded. “Realistically we barely know each other. We might come to find when we learn more about one another that we don’t actually like what we find. Take me, I’m neurotic, I’m a neat freak, a germaphobe. I own too many books, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked, I’m-”

“Spencer?” You chuckled through your tears, cutting him off of his rant.

“I ramble when I’m nervous.” He sighed. “But I do know that I love you. And I’m almost positive that I will love every little thing about you, most likely for the rest of my life. So it is probably crazy of you to come to DC with me, but I hope you do it anyway.”

“Spence?” You smiled, wiping at your tears. “I love you too, and I’m positive I will love every little thing about you too. For the rest of my life.” 

Spencer let out a shaky breath of relief and wiped his own tears moments before you fell into his arms and kissed him more fiercely than you ever had before. And you both knew no matter how crazy it was, it also made absolutely perfect sense. 

“Good to be home, angel.” He kissed you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to hold you close. 

He always did that, despite how many years it had been. Regardless of the fact you’d now been together since you were twenty one years old and he was twenty two, in spite of the fact you’d married him, he always felt the need to keep you as close as humanly possible as though afraid he may lose you like he almost had all those years ago.

“Missed you.” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Missed you more.” He replied.

When he broke away from you, your eyes landed on the diary and you laughed, tugging it free of his grip. 

“JJ called me this morning and said you’d been pining over this thing.” You ran your fingers over the worn cover. 

“Best summer of my life.” He smiled as the two of you sank to the couch. 

Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you nuzzled against him, still toying with the old diary. 

“Mine too. But we can’t live in the past forever. And I don’t know about you but I’m pretty happy right here in the present. And I’m certain our future is going to look pretty damn good.” You took his hand in your free one and brought it to your lips so you could place delicate kisses on his knuckles. 

He’d been so sure as he watched that bus pull away that he would never see you again, that he had lost a piece of his heart forever. The summer of ‘02 he had met the love of his life and he had counted his lucky stars every day that he was also the love of yours. 

You’d stayed by his side through every hurdle. You’d helped him get clean after his addiction which could have torn the two of you apart, held his hand through every single NA meeting and soothed him through withdrawals.

You’d gone to every doctor's appointment with him while he was suffering from debilitating headaches, dried his tears when he thought Emily had died and held his hand at the funeral. You’d felt his anger towards JJ and Hotch when Emily came back from the dead. 

You’d done the same when Gideon died, when Morgan left the team and then Hotch. You’d visited him every day in prison and told him on every visit that no matter how long it took you would be waiting for him when he got out. 

“Until death do us part, Doc. I didn’t take our vows lightly.” 

He held you closer, trying to communicate to you just how much your love and support had meant to him over the years. 

“Have I ever thanked you for getting off that bus?” He sighed in content. 

“Only every single day since.” You giggled, still after all these years his absolute favourite sound in the world. 

He laughed with you, holding you impossibly closer and breathing in the scent of your perfume he still loved so much. 

One summer had turned his whole life upside down. One glorious summer changed everything. That summer and the memories the two of you had created would forever live on, even without that old journal. But you were right, he couldn’t live in the past forever, nor would he want to. His present was as close to perfect as it could possibly be. 

And even in the coldest depths of winter, you would always be the summer of Spencer Reid’s heart. 

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had.

[gyr8o73284r]

Do you know what a data void is?

A data void is a phenomenon where certain search terms bring up literally nothing on the internet! These can be used by people who wish to spread misinformation and or malware by tagging malicious websites with these unused term combinations.

This blog was created for a college project for an example of how to fill a data void (if it works). Shout out to Team Navy.

More information on Data Voids:

-appendectomy malleo united union gravel table applify

[theprongspotter]

State - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 27 - 810 words

When Sirius moved to the United States and begged Regulus to visit him, Regulus did not expect to find himself standing in front of a sprawling ranch. The main house, a charming yet rustic structure with a wide porch and peeling white paint, stood proudly amidst acres of rolling fields. Horses roamed in the distance, their silhouettes framed by a backdrop of towering mountains. It doesn’t seem like a place to find a Black. The Blacks belong in opulent manors, with manicured lawns and marble floors—not here, where the air smells of hay and the earth crunches underfoot. But his phone has no signal, so he stares ahead for only a moment longer before hesitantly walking closer, the gravel path shifting under his polished shoes.

He doesn’t even make it to the barn, a weathered structure with faded red paint, when a horse comes flying up behind him, kicking up dust in its wake. Regulus startles, instinctively taking a step back as a cloud of dirt settles over him, clinging to his tailored slacks. He makes a face, wiping at the smudges with a huff, thoroughly unimpressed by the situation.

The palomino, golden and gleaming in the late afternoon light, comes to a graceful stop in front of him. Regulus lifts his gaze to the rider, and damn if he isn’t gorgeous. Dark skin, rich like polished mahogany, hazel eyes that gleam with mischief, and brown hair that sticks out in unruly curls from beneath a weathered cowboy hat. The man’s stupidly bright smile is almost blinding, more dazzling than the sun that casts a golden halo around his figure.

“How can I help you?” the man asks, his voice carrying a thick southern accent that makes Regulus' stomach do an unexpected flip.

Regulus straightens his posture, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “I’m looking for my brother. Is he here?”

The man’s brows shoot up in surprise, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I’m not sure, darlin’. You sound an awfully far way from home, though. Are you new to the States?”

Regulus nods stiffly. “Yes, but I won’t be staying long. Just long enough to visit my brother.”

“That’s a shame.” The man’s eyes take their time as they rake over Regulus’ body, and there’s no mistaking the appreciative gleam in his gaze. “What’s your name?”

“Regulus,” he replies, crossing his arms defensively, though there’s a spark of curiosity in his own eyes now.

“I’m James. This is Leah.” James grins wider, patting the horse’s neck affectionately. Leah’s ears twitch in response, the horse shifting its weight as if pleased with the introduction.

James dismounts Leah with an effortless grace that makes Regulus’ heart skip a beat. The fluid motion is smooth, practiced, as if James has been riding horses his entire life. He dusts off his jeans as he walks toward Regulus, the dusty trail settling around his boots. "So, Regulus, you’re Sirius’ brother, huh?" he says, extending a hand, roughened from hard work but surprisingly gentle in its offer.

Regulus eyes the offered hand for a moment before taking it, surprised by the warmth of James’ grip, the way it feels solid, grounding. "Unfortunately," he replies dryly, though there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, betraying the humor beneath his stoic facade.

James chuckles, clearly amused. "Well, I think you’re in for a surprise. Sirius has really settled into this place."

Regulus raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Settled? My brother? In the middle of nowhere? I find that hard to believe."

"You’d be surprised what a bit of open sky can do to a person," James says, his tone gentle, as if he’s trying to make Regulus see something beyond the dusty ranch and endless fields. There’s a sincerity in his words that Regulus isn’t used to, something almost disarming. "But don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure you find him."

Regulus feels a flutter of something he can’t quite place as James leads him toward the barn, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. The barn doors creak slightly as they approach, the smell of hay and leather wafting through the air. There's a strange sense of ease around this man, despite the dirt on his clothes and the roughness of his hands—things that Regulus would usually turn his nose up at. But here, with the sun setting over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ranch, and the sound of Leah's hooves echoing softly in the background, everything seems... different. Almost like he belongs, though he’s not ready to admit that.

He pushes the thought away as quickly as it comes. He’s here for Sirius, nothing more. But as James walks beside him, that bright smile still on his face, Regulus can’t help but wonder if this trip might end up being more than just a family visit.

[batsplat]

which motogp rider do you recon would fuck their bike if they’re could?

there's an easy answer here and it's valentino, but luckily he's retired so you can't just go with that cop out. like he definitely wanted to fuck that bike and tbh I'm not sure the 'if they could' caveat even applies here. I fully believe he has fucked that bike

my sense is that he has passed this on to his proteges, who to varying extents do seem like they have all considered fucking a bike. the furthest along this spectrum is bez, who as I understand it has in the past even given his two bikes separate names that can be combined to give the bike's compound name ("I didn't want two different names as that would be like having two girlfriends, which is weird"). this is metaphysically fascinating in many ways, but is also a clear case of someone overthinking things. like, I think if you believe you are in a committed relationship with your racing bike, you do need to treat your bike's 'soul' as something that can transcend the specific bike you are currently riding. when valentino talks about his relationship with the m1, obviously he knows it's not literally the same bike year-to-year, but spiritually it's the same bike. whereas bez is performing odd mental gymnastics here to establish that his two bikes have a unitary soul rather than just, like, accepting that all these bikes have the same soul anyway if he wants them to. bez is the type of guy who wants to fuck his bike but is so hung up on the various philosophical bike-fuck-cuck implications that he never actually manages to fuck it

riders do generally have very weird relationships with their bikes, but it would be too easy to assume they all want to fuck their bikes. with some, there's clearly more of a spiritual identification with the bike, where they see the bike as an extension of themselves. marc is the poster child here: that man does not want to fuck his bike, he thinks he is his bike. both his bike and his body are frequently treated in a distressingly utilitarian manner, where in his mind they exist to fulfil a single purpose, aka 'winning races'. this is how you get him talking about the mechanics fixing the bike and the doctors fixing the body and all that other stuff. it's only been in recent years where, for obvious reasons, he's become a little more aware of how he does actually need to treat his body like a precious resource... but like with the bike, he does still seem pretty ready to repeatedly chuck it in the gravel. despite this apparent lack of care or basic self-preservation instincts, the riders who identify with bikes - who see their souls as one with the bike - don't necessarily have an entirely non-sensual relationship with their bikes... but it's a little different to wanting to fuck their bikes. the sensuality is still there, but the bike and the rider are not distinct units where one can fuck the other. whether you take this to mean that they want to be the bike who is fucked or that there's more of an autosexual situation happening here is up to the reader's interpretation

another interesting question is whether there are some riders who want their bikes to fuck them. I feel like this has to be a thing, though it's a little harder to find explicit evidence here. in some ways, if you set aside the literal order in which bike and rider are arranged, some of the dynamics of riding a bike would lend itself to an interpretation that being attracted to a bike is more about being fucked by the bike than fucking it. this raises another interesting question - and it's whether it's the process of riding a bike in itself that is arousing, or whether the attraction comes from something different. now, to return to our best case study: my sense is that for valentino, he primarily does want to fuck that bike... and it's not necessarily the riding itself that's really doing it for him. it's a very romantic connection, it's about being enamoured with this partnership they've forged and the mutual promise and potential therein. he's in love with winning on that bike, he's in love with what the two of them can achieve together. this isn't about the literal process of approaching a corner on an m1... valentino is at his most attracted to his bike after he has just won on it. here he is stroking his bike after phillip island 2004 (where he sealed his first yamaha title by beating sete in a last lap duel) and laguna 2008, and also him kissing his bike after catalunya 2009

yes, he wants to fuck the bike, but he is a romantic. riding the bike to victory is the wining and dining; the fucking comes later

the last metric I wish to bring in is the need to feel desired by the bike. this is an ego thing, right... the partnership with the bike at the point of victory flatters the ego. the harmonious and productive relations between rider + partner reflects well on them; it bags them a bunch of lovely things from everyone around them like 'appreciation' and 'affection' and 'praise'. thus the bike also reflects on the rider... both in terms of the attractiveness of the bike to the world at large (making it function as a trophy spouse of sorts) and in terms of the quality of the bond between rider and bike. being wanted by the best bike is particularly flattering - but the most important thing is to be wanted at all. I would posit that this is part of what's going on with jorge martin's whole deal, a man who desperately needs to be praised and wanted. the aprilia's no ducati, but at least he's its first choice, y'know. my belief is that jorge martin wishes to be wined and dined by that bike

in conclusion, I would like to propose a basic way of assessing what flavour of sensual relationship the rider has with the bike:

my belief is that most (if not all) riders fall somewhere in this triangle. you have the freaks like marc who are very close to the top and you have the freaks like valentino who are very close to the bottom and probably skew hard left. others are perhaps a little more versatile in their preferences. I don't feel like I have sufficient information to sort all the riders to the correct spot of the triangle, but I hope the general construct holds up. that is all