#the maternal unit told me to make my own

[idkchriscrossapplesauce]

This is probably one of my favorite purchases ever.

Just look at its little face! I freaking love it!

[silhouetteonpaper]

DERIVED FROM POWER | CH. 1

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5

Summary: Y/N is frustrated with the life being a political figure’s daughter brings. That’s when she’s forced to meet a group of heroes that give her the worst news possible: she’s far from normal. But what will happen when Y/N can’t be the perfect girl her parents taught her to be?

A/N: This is my first fic, so please bear with me as I’m still figuring things out! Any constructive feedback is welcome! This first chapter is a lot of introduction, I promise there’s even better stuff coming. I’m planning for this to have at least 10 chapters, if not more. I hope you enjoy :)

WC: 3451

Warnings: Drinking, gun use, fighting, mean parents

CHAPTER ONE

The girl sighed as the green silk dress draped down past her legs to the floor. Another new article of clothing she delicately placed herself in, now turning back and forth in the mirror to see how it fell on her body. She liked this dress more than some of the others she’d worn. It had a nice v-cut neck, giving her collarbone some emphasis. The straps were thin to let her shoulders shine, too. And it complimented her figure well, leaving the girl dreading the news articles about her ‘scandalous attire’ she predicted would appear soon enough. Still, all the girl cared about was the fact she felt confident in it, so in the moment she tried to ignore her rising fears.

Tonight is yet another party the girl’s parents decided to attend, wanting to keep up their appearance as senators for the United States. As their daughter, the girl was expected to follow them to every trip, public statement, gathering, and of course party. She hated every single one, the feeling of everyone’s eyes drilling into her causing anxiety. She never liked the spotlight, let alone the political discourse that followed her everywhere. Even at her young age, she was expected to have an opinion and be able to articulate her surrounding thoughts. But she never was as into politics as her parents were.

A soft knock landed on the bedroom door, the young girl’s attention quickly being stolen from the mirror. “Y/N, your parents are headed to the car. They said they’re leaving in five minutes.” A woman who appeared in the doorway spoke. She was shorter, and had straight brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a kind smile with her form fitting gray pencil skirt and matching blazer. Y/N immediately smiled at her and nodded, hiding the frustration she felt toward her parents. Only they would force her to come to a party, and send the house manager to communicate the departure in their stead. 

Brianne, the house manager and the woman in the doorway, was more like a maternal figure to Y/N than her own mother. Brianne was in charge of keeping household tasks on schedule, and organizing everything surrounding it. The maids, chef, everyone, all looked to Brianne for direction on when to do their jobs and how. Because Y/N’s parents were constantly working, the young girl often found herself in Brianne’s hands. She didn’t mind it too much, yet always longed for a true parental relationship with her real parents. Yet they cared more about politics than their own child.

Brianne closed the bedroom door soon after relaying her message. Luckily, Y/N was nearly ready. She had blow dried and curled her Y/C/H hair earlier, forcing her natural hair pattern to cower under the heat styling. Her parents always told her she looked prettier when she heat styled her hair, so ever since their first comment on it she kept doing it. It was a habit now- Y/N never let her natural hair show anymore.

She had put on some simple makeup, just to highlight and brighten her features but not too much to make her look too old. Y/N’s parents constantly reminded her that youth gets you far in any industry, to which they were usually met with an eye-roll or unimpressed expression.

Y/N took a moment in the mirror to look herself in the eyes. Being in the public eye meant she had to be a perfect daughter, teenager, and person. But there was one thing the young girl was hiding that she’d never told a single soul about. She had this strange ability, she could move things with her eyes. She could bring objects to her, or push them away, no matter how heavy they were.

But, she didn’t often get to use her special skill, as she didn’t want her parents to find out. Occasionally she’d grab a book from a shelf across the room, holding out her hand as it slid off the shelf and flew in the air towards her. Or, she’d throw the clothes from her floor onto the bed with one simple gaze from her eyes. She knew it wasn’t normal, so she kept the secret with her for all 18 years of her life.

Eventually, Y/N strutted out front of the house in her black high heels, the low light of the moon and front driveway lights illuminating the path to the car. The family’s house was a large contemporary-colonial style house, with lots of windows and pillars. They resided in New York, far enough away from the white house to have some privacy, but close enough that they could easily travel there for work.

The Rolls Royce SUV sat in the driveway, engine running. The driver exited the car to open the door for Y/N, her expression turning cold as she met her parents' judging faces inside. The door closed behind her and Y/N buckled her seatbelt, sitting in the opposite facing seat to both her parents. Her mom looked at her up and down, not trying to hide the tinge of disgust.

“Who let you buy that?” She commented on the dress, staring directly at its low neckline. Y/N looked down at her lap for a moment, watching her words to prevent her tone from ruining the night.

“Brianne took me shopping. You told me I can’t wear the same dress twice, so I got this one for tonight.” Y/N answered quietly. She knew her mom probably wouldn’t love the low cut, but Y/N liked it and Brianne told her how good it looked, so it felt right. The dresses her mom picked out always made Y/N feel like she was either a little kid, or a full grown adult. But Y/N was finally 18, and her excitement to make decisions like these stemmed into the purchases on her parent’s credit cards.

“Next time, get something less revealing. I don’t need to see pictures of your chest in tomorrow's newspaper. It’ll have to do for tonight though. Maybe Stark will have an extra jacket you can cover up with…” Her mom went on. Y/N rolled her eyes to herself, knowing at the party her parents would be too busy socializing to care about some stupid jacket. Y/N’s ears perked at hearing the name Stark, though. These parties were often political figures and their friends gathering, so the girl was intrigued to hear a name unrelated to politics.

The name Stark was familiar, and Y/N’s memory quickly jogged. “We’re going to Tony Stark’s house for a party? Why’re we invited?” She questioned her parents. She knew a bit about the billionaires franchise, and that her parents were friendly with him, but was unsure what business her senator parents had at a rich man's night of fun. Her mom scoffed, exchanging a glance with her father.

 “Stark funds part of our campaign, and in return we offer him some… benefits.” Her mom said carefully. Y/N knew that in return for his support, her parents helped him weave some laws and watchful government eyes. It was further proof how devious those involved in politics could truly be, but Y/N already lacked trust in her parents.

The car drove down some winding roads, following the edge of the hill they lived on that overlooked the city. The night was beautiful, a dark navy sky full of stars holding up the bright moon, matching the glowing city lights down below that never ceased to burn. Y/N enjoyed looking up to the sky, watching the quiet world that sat above her. It was a nice break from her own life as she could float with the stars for only a moment.

Soon enough, the SUV pulled into a long driveway that curved in a loop out front of a large modern mansion. Y/N was impressed, seeing a house even larger than theirs. She was always curious as to why people needed all this space, she never felt a use for it. But her parents and Stark both had money to spend, so she presumed that was reason enough.

The driver opened the doors for the family and they headed up towards the large front doors. Inside, music could be heard playing in the foyer where a crowd of people socialized. The ceiling was tall, a second floor balcony overlooking the area around a large hanging chandelier. Floor to ceiling windows covered the farthest wall, standing behind a DJ booth and a bar area.

An older man with brown hair greeted the family, immediately going to hug Y/N’s mom and dad. “Laura! Paul! Welcome!” His attention was turned to the young girl in the stunning green dress as soon as he pulled away from the hug. “And here she is, Y/N Y/L/N, you’ve grown up since I last saw you!” He spoke, pulling Y/N into a side hug.. Y/N smiled as best as she could, making sure to keep eye contact with an expression that was reading properly. But she couldn’t quite remember him, or how he knew her.

“Tony, the inside looks amazing!” Laura beamed, admiring the interior of the house. After only a moment, Tony was walking away with her parents as he promised to show them a new renovation he did. Y/N was left alone in the foyer, the crowd now seeming a lot louder in the absence of the only two people she knew at the party. As great as it was to see Tony Stark, it wasn’t as great to be at another party alone, Y/N thought. She weighed her options, and ultimately decided to head for the bar.

Although at parties she was usually on her best behavior, Y/N knew this house was full of rich celebrities and individuals alike who didn’t care about rules. She wasn’t 21, but had drank with her friends before without her parents' knowledge. A few drinks wouldn’t hurt, and she knew no one would care- as long as her parents didn’t see. But Laura and Paul weren’t in sight, and the many bottles of alcohol were calling Y/N’s name.

She sat at one of the bar stools, adjusting her green dress to sit comfortably. A redhead turned to face the young girl, only looking up to make eye contact once Y/N spoke. “One shot of vodka, please, and a martini.” She ordered. The redhead raised her eyebrow, but nodded and prepared the drinks. She slid over a shot glass of the clear liquid, Y/N immediately taking it and downing it no problem. The woman behind the bar smiled, impressed, as she placed the martini down in the empty shot glass’s stead.

“Not a big party person?” The redhead asked. Y/N laughed, shaking her head and taking a small sip of the martini.

“Not really. I go to so many, they get old fast.” She spoke, careful not to overshare. She had some sense of comfort at this party, knowing everyone here was famous or known in some way. Most of them probably didn’t care about politics, let alone a senator's daughter. Y/N could be an average girl here. The redhead laughed, leaning against the counter behind her and crossing her arms.

“I get it. I’m always down for a party in celebration of something, like this one.” The redhead told her. Y/N nodded, understanding that feeling.

“What’re we celebrating tonight?” She asked. Before the redhead could answer, a whizzing sound could be heard. Within seconds, a large boom shook the house, leaving Y/N with wide eyes as the crowd screamed and scattered.

“Get down!” The redhead told the young girl, helping her move behind the bar quickly. She pulled her down, the two of them ducking below the counter as the sounds of more small explosions and gunshots rang through the house. “I’m Natasha, by the way.” The redhead spoke, peeking up every few seconds to gauge the situation.

“I- I’m Y/N.” The girl responded, too terrified to even formally introduce her full name. She preferred just her first name anyway, less formalities, but for now that didn’t matter as her name could be splayed on a grave if she didn’t focus. Her heart was racing as Natasha and her continued to hide behind the bar, debris from the chaos occasionally flying over.

Screams echoed through the house, the sound of heels and dress shoes crunching broken glass and debris as people ran filled the large rooms. Y/N’s eyes remained wide, her breath hitching when Natasha pulled out a gun and began to shoot over the counter. ‘Who is this woman?’ Y/N thought, now seeing the bartender become some kind of security personnel.

The gun firing died down for a moment, and Natasha bent back down to Y/N’s level. “We need to go, I need you to follow me.” She spoke, trying to meet Y/N’s eyes that began to dissociate into the floor. She was panicking, her own mind making her feel like her death would come at any moment. “Y/N Y/L/N.” Natasha spoke firmly, putting a hand on the girl's arm.

Y/N’s eyes finally rose, now processing Natasha’s words. She realized Natasha had used her full name, somehow knowing it, but quickly brushed it off as the chaos continued. She nodded, and slowly stood with the redhead as they waited for the right moment to move from behind cover. They darted across the foyer, over broken glass and fallen drywall. A few stray bullets zoomed behind them, just missing the pair.

The girl’s jaw dropped in shock as she noticed there were a few bodies trapped underneath heavy beams that had fallen from the ceiling. After making sure Natasha wasn’t looking towards her, she flicked her eyes from the beam to the floor in front of her, pulling it toward her so it lifted off the body. As they began to leave the foyer, Y/N couldn’t do much more than that without holding up the redhead and alerting her of the ability she possessed, so for now she hoped it would be enough to save a life.

Natasha kept her gun propped upwards as she led the girl down one of the hallways. It was silent, almost too silent. Y/N tried to keep her panicked breathing quiet as she watched Natasha guiding the way.

As they turned a corner, Natasha stopped in her tracks, holding out her arm to prevent Y/N from walking even one step more. Less than a second later, a large explosion erupted in the hallway in front of them, just over a yard away. Y/N shielded her eyes, a few pieces of rubble flying at her with a sharp sting as they grazed her skin. Her eyes watered at the pain, but she remained focused as the adrenaline pumped through her.

Natasha immediately continued to run, soon opening a door that led outside. Down a dimly lit path stood a black van. Y/N’s heart dropped, was this woman trying to kidnap Y/N, or save her? At this point, the girl wasn’t sure- but running back inside didn’t sound too appealing. There were a few times when people attempted to harm the senators and their family, but it was usually easily avoided with the help of their personal security team. This time though, her family’s security team was nowhere in sight.

Speaking of family, Y/N soon realized her parents were caught up in the same attack. “My parents, I have to go find them,” Y/N spoke, her voice weak and full of worry. In the glow of the moon, Natasha could see the girl's eyes watering, her eyebrows caving in with fear. And her arm slowly dripped with blood, but it didn’t seem to bother her too much.

“Don’t worry about them, I promise they’re safe. We have to move, now.” Natasha spoke calmly, yet firmly. Y/N’s mind raced with a million more questions. How did Natasha know her parents were safe? Where were they? Where was Natasha taking her? But there was no time to ask as the redhead quickly sped toward the van.

Y/N could see the dark figures of a few other people getting in the van and already sitting inside. As they approached, Natasha opened the back doors and gestured for Y/N to step inside. She could see a few faces in the near dark, all staring directly at her. “Look, if you’re going to kidnap me at least just tell me. I can’t take any more surprises tonight.” Y/N begged, exhaling deeply as her eyes teared up. Natasha laughed, a few people inside the van adding a chuckle. Y/N looked at them, slightly appalled.

“We aren’t kidnapping you, your parents set this up. We’re saving you from getting kidnapped.” Natasha explained, slightly entertained. Y/N looked from her to the other passengers back and forth quickly, now more confused than ever.

“What?-” She began. There was no time to finish, as the sound of gunshots grew louder. Y/N quickly moved to step in the van, knowing it was her only shot at avoiding a bullet wound tonight. One of the passengers in the van reached out an arm to help her up, offering the seat next to him as everyone inside made room. Natasha quickly jumped inside after, closing the van doors with haste. The car sped off, making everyone lean to the side a bit as gravity pulled them.

The gunshots grew quieter, silence taking over the van as Tony’s house became smaller. Now that the immediate threat of getting shot wasn’t weighing over the girl, she looked around. She could see Natasha, and a few more men. A soft glow of technology came from the driver's seat of the car, lighting the man at the wheel’s face. It was Tony, manning the van. He wasn’t even touching the wheel now, as the car seemed to drive itself with a complex looking computer setup.

Natasha turned a small overhead light on, the back of the vehicle now being lit well enough for Y/N to make out the people sitting with her. A guy with dusty brown hair and a bow hooked over his shoulder, a larger guy with long blonde hair and a hammer of some kind, and a sandy haired guy sitting beside Y/N.

“Can I patch that up?” Natasha pointed to Y/N’s bleeding arm, the girl’s eyebrows raising as she finally noticed her injury. She nodded, Natasha switching places with the sandy haired guy so she could easily clean up the wound. As she wiped off the blood and cleaned the source of it, leaving Y/N wincing, she was able to take a closer look at the sandy haired character. Her expression twisted in confusion when she noticed his familiar face.

“I know you… how do I know you?” She asked him. He laughed, looking to the other passengers to exchange a glance. Natasha nodded at him, beginning to wrap gauze around Y/N’s arm. She looked around in frustration, annoyed that they all knew something she didn’t. Suddenly, it clicked. She recalled the man's face and where she saw him last. The man waited for her to say it, his eyebrows raised as he saw she connected the dots. “You’re my family’s security guard—Johnson…but you look slightly different?” She realized.

The man was definitely the security guard, but he wasn’t wearing sunglasses or a black tux. He also somehow looked more youthful, like his position as a security personnel involved a disguise. The man laughed. “I am… or was. Undercover.” He told her. She lifted an eyebrow, unsure what he meant by that. “I’m an agent for SHIELD. But more importantly, an Avenger. I’m Steve Rogers, this is Clint Barton, Thor, and you probably met Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff. Your parents needed extra security and we were put on the job.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped slightly. She knew about the Avengers. Their names often swirled government meetings or secret gatherings full of hushed voices. They were a hot topic in the political world, but even more incredibly, they were superheroes. “My parents are working with a bunch of superheroes? What did they need extra security for?” Y/N questioned. They were average senators, what could they possibly need a group of superheroes for?

Steve hesitated, looking at the group for a moment before continuing. “You.”

[ukrfeminism]

NHS maternity services are getting worse with two-thirds of units in England now deemed unsafe as staff and hospitals find themselves under “huge pressure”, a damning report has warned. 

Some 65 per cent of maternity services are now regarded as inadequate or require improvement for safety, up from 54 per cent last year, the Care Quality Commission (CQC) has found. Of these, 15 per cent are inadequate.

When looking at overall ratings, one in 10 maternity units are now rated inadequate, while 39 per cent are under the rating requires improvement.

The worsening picture of maternity care in England follows major scandals in Shrewsbury and Nottingham uncovered by The Independent. 

The report says the “overarching picture” is “one of a service and staff under huge pressure”. Staff cover “is often fragile, with the rotas relying on every consultant being available”.

It added: “On top of this, consultants face additional pressure from, for example, having to cover registrar rotas and extra on-call shifts to meet the needs of their service.”

One patient told the CQC: “I couldn’t move and asked someone to help me feed my baby and was told ‘you can do it yourself’ … [The midwife] also told me that she was very busy and had other patients that took priority – when I still couldn’t move.”

The report further pointed to issues with governance and lack of oversight from NHS boards, as well as delays to care and lack of one-to-one attention during labour. The report also highlighted poor communication. 

The watchdog has said a similar picture has emerged for ambulance services, with 60 per cent deemed to be inadequate or requiring improvement on safety – double last year. 

Mental healthcare was also highlighted as an area of concern with 40 per cent rated inadequate or required improvement for safety. 

Inspectors pointed to a lack of beds, meaning people can be “cared for in inappropriate environments – often in emergency departments”.

“One acute trust told us that there had been 42 mental health patients waiting for over 36 hours in the emergency department in one month alone.” the report said. 

In its wide-ranging report, the CQC warned that healthcare risks becoming a two-tier system, with society divided into those who can pay for care and those who cannot.

It said: “Getting access to services remains a fundamental problem… Along the health and care journey, people are struggling to get the care they need when they need it.”

Factors such as long waits for hospital treatment, waits to see GPs and for referrals, combined with a lack of staff, “increase the risk of a two-tier system of healthcare, with people who can’t afford to pay having to wait longer for care and risking deteriorating health”.

During a press conference watchdog officials said: “More and more people are entering that long-wait category and it's becoming harder to prioritise and deprioritise people, when as I say we are, they are seeing a number of people who, who have effectively not been sustained on electric backlogs arriving into A&E with a serious condition.” 

Research by YouGov showed that eight in 10 of those who used private healthcare last year would previously have used the NHS, while another study found 56 per cent of people had tried to use the NHS before going private.

The CQC added: “People may also be forced to make difficult financial choices. We heard from someone who receives benefits who resorted to extracting their own tooth because they were unable to find an NHS dentist.

“They then had to pay £1,200 on a credit card for private treatment, doing without household essentials until the debt was paid.”

CQC chief executive Ian Trenholm said the ongoing strike action by NHS staff – who are unhappy with pay and conditions – has contributed to backlogs.

Sally Warren, director of policy at think tank The King’s Fund, said: “This comprehensive report reveals the sad reality that the quality of care that patients need and deserve is not being met in many parts of the NHS and social care.”

A Department of Health and Social Care spokeswoman said: “We are delivering on three major recovery plans to improve access to urgent and emergency, primary and elective care, and have made progress to significantly reduce the longest waits for routine treatment, despite pressures including industrial action.

“There are record numbers of staff working in the NHS and our historic Long Term Workforce Plan will retain and recruit hundreds of thousands more staff alongside harnessing technology to reform the way we work and save staff time.”

[ezekieltobiasfletcher]

Keep It Simple

The worst of my bout with COVID is over. Tomorrow will be two weeks since I noticed the uncomfortable tingle in my throat. Yesterday marks one week since I suffered the worst of it. I am on the mend, but some symptoms still linger. As much as I want them to go away, I need these remaining mild symptoms to linger a little while longer as a reminder. I need to be reminded of the promises I made to my higher power that I would take better care of myself. To sleep when I am tired, and not to use substinances, screens, and people to distract myself from the work and pains of living my life on life's terms. I need to be reminded of how honest I was with myself as I pleaded through prayer to survive this virus. I need to be reminded that I will not find my salvation in thinking about what I need to do. I will only save myself by focusing on my higher power and walking my talk. If I want things to be different, then I need to continue breaking from my old habits and coping mechanisms and act as-if, being different, everyday, one day at a time.

I had very little appetite while I was in the depths of COVID. For a few days, all I could tolerate was Lipton Noodles packets with some added rice. The first day I felt a little better, I knew I needed to consume calories, protein, and fiber to help my decimated digestion system. I decided to keep it simple, and made myself two eggs, scrambled in the pan, and two slices of wheat toast with butter. I also decided to nourish my soul by playing one of my favorite games with my mind. I call it, "look how lucky I am..."

I was raised by an early Boomer mother, born in the latter half of the 1940's. She was raised by parents who grew up during the depression, and she also spent a great deal of time with her maternal grandparents, who together with my maternal grandparents, all survived The Great Depression. The love and hardships that my mom was raised with gave her the ability to always find silver linings and to make do with what she had. I will write more about her someday, but for today, I just want you to know that I am very grateful for her and her simple, everyday values that bring me comfort when I need it most. My mother's spirit is part of the great amalgamation that is my "higher power".

As I was making my breakfast, I put on a YouTube Music playlist called: Depression Era, Golden Age of Radio. I remembered stories I was told about what it was like living through world wars, the 1918 flu, and the Great Depression. While preparing my meal, these memories of stories from my family made me thankful to have a stove, cookware, a toaster, sliced bread, butter, eggs, salt and pepper, and a warm home with indoor hot water plumbing to live in. By my grandparents and great grandparent's standards, I have everything I need to live a good and simple life. By simply having a job and a home in the United States, I am in the top 5% of the world. Look how lucky I am.

As horrible as COVID has been for me, it helped me get to bed earlier, I haven't had any marijuana in two weeks, I've limited my screen time, I removed all the social media apps from the home screen of my phone, I've logged off from work by 5:30pm each day, I'm being more intentional about my meals, and with not getting the munchies from the pot, I'm not snacking all the time like Scooby and Shaggy. And as shitty as being sick was, literal pun intended, I am back to my pre-COVID lockdown weight. So yeah... I'm letting this recent mental bottoming out affect me, and I'm getting out of my own way and drawing even closer to my higher power. Look how lucky I am to be alive and be able to change for the better.

For what it's worth, that meal of eggs, toast, and a small glass of orange juice, it was the most delicious fucking meal I have had in a long time. I never want to forget the depth of gratitude I felt on that morning; ever.

[please-picturemeintheweeds]

I get being confused by the achievement of someone being commited to you. Its' an achievement I'm sure but still society makes it weird. Feeling weird about it is fine.

Thank you for the validation! Yeah it’s super weird. I don’t really believe that it’s an achievement… but it is certainly a happy fact! I think it’s super easy to slip into considering engagement/marriage to be an accomplishment bc that’s the messaging we get all day every day, but if it’s an accomplishment then that means that Not Being Married/Engaged is a failure, which I really disagree with for a variety of reasons (and it harms both unmarried people and married people!). It’s just so confusing bc like!!! It did certainly take a lot of hard work and dedication to reach this stage with my person! And I want to honor and celebrate that! We worked hard! We’ve been through a lot and come out of all of it stronger! It’s so special and life-changing! I’m an entirely different person than I was when we met, and so is my partner! But I don’t think that we’ve reached a distinct point where Something Has Been Accomplished. The commitment part is interesting too bc like I don’t think that we were in any way uncommitted before we decided to get married, having lived together for 5 years already. Marriage, for us, is more about purposefully including our community in the commitment… it’s not just committing to each other, but committing to care for each others families as if they are our own. I mostly want to marry his mom and like show her that she will always have a place in my family! And the legal pieces - particularly this thing called Spousal Privilege which is where you cannot be subpeonaed to testify in court against your spouse (you can choose to but you can’t be compelled by the court) which has been on our minds due to the uh… political climate and planning for a future where some of our political beliefs/statements/actions could potentially come with serious consequences. Basically it’s where “partner in crime” comes from! Which is similar to the legal right to visit your spouse in the hospital.. just yeah, it’s a political right to marry, and I don’t want to squander that right just bc of second wave feminism… (the family/home is a worthless use of time and the only true fulfillment a woman can achieve is within the structures of capitalism as a working woman 🙄)

But yeah the way the whole thing is drenched in cultural norms and expectations is so icky and I wish I could just selectively experience the joy without the grossness but alas!! I still haven’t told my grandma and aunt yet. Which is bonkers!! But like… my aunt was engaged in the 80s when she was in college and my grandma was over the moon about it (I found some old family Christmas letters and read the one where my Grammy announced it to Everyone and it is… Gross) and then, Something Happened and my aunt had a psychiatric incident and the engagement was broken off. There were no family Christmas letters for a few years after that, and my aunt was in and out of psychiatric hospitals, moved back home, and has spent the rest of her life being berated by her family/town/church for Failing to marry. So like!! It’s just complicated! And social pressure is immense, even without those explicitly sexist messages. My mom, for example, would NEVER do anything like that to me, but!! She still went on a tirade the other day about how degrading it is for women to change their last names when they get married (I intend to take my partner’s maternal last name because their whole family is huge and welcoming and has a lot of history and are all bluegrass musicians whereas my last name doesn’t hold a lot of meaning to me and my brother will carry on the family name anyways) but like!!!! Mom!!! Wtf?!!??! Not everything is some sexism conspiracy theory! When uniting two families into one, it makes sense to condense some things! I am literally legally joining his family, which isn’t defined by name alone obvi but like it’s a part of it! And the whole point is freedom of choice! I can do whatever I want! Even if that sometimes is the Traditional thing! Grrrrrrrrrrrr

anyways yeah I think that processing all this stuff is the important part, and defining these things for ourselves is what matters. But thank you, anon, for the question, reassurance, and opportunity to journal a bit about it! 🫶

[hollyevolving]

American St. Patrick's Day is for immigrants and their descendants.

Saint Patrick's Day is a big deal in the United States because it's a touchstone for, say it with me now: resisting forced assimilation and cultural erasure by anti-Catholic and anti-Irish Americans.

In case you missed it: The banishing of the snakes (which, let's be clear, were never in Ireland to begin with) was not originally attributed to Padraig. Instead, the late 7th/early 8th century Life of Saint Columba says Columba did that one. It's not attributed to Patrick until the 12th century. Somewhere along the line, the miracles got mixed up. Patrick lived in the 5th century and Columba in the 6th. Formal canonization by pope didn't begin until after the 10th century. So as long as the locals were happy, the Vatican wasn't keeping track of miracles while either of them lived. But yeah, Patrick didn't do the snakes (nobody did, but they weren't attributed to him for a few hundred years after the story was first told). He was apparently just better at sorcery than the druids and big on doing holy well healings. His "miracles" all relate to building churches, talking to people, and being himself protected from harm.

(regardless of your belief system, you can't talk about Patrick and the druids without talking about miracles, sorcery, etc)

The forced conversion of the Irish is also a total myth. Even after the Romans pulled out of Britain and Ireland, they were still just across the water in Gaul, and association with them still meant access to more advanced technology and greater wealth. And the Romans had turned Christian.

Patrick not only didn't harm any pagans or druids, he went out of his way to not offend them.

Patrick had lived and been educated among the Gallo-Romans, but he was Welsh-born (well, Wales didn't exist. He was born a Briton) and enslaved in Ireland first before traveling to Gaul, and he would have seen and been able to speak about the quality of life in the Roman empire (Patrick is more likely to have been active in the late 4th/early-mid 5th century, and the Franks didn't finish booting the Romans out until the end of the 5th, long after Patrick had returned to the land of his enslavement).

The conversion was all carrot, no stick.

And it was slow. And Patrick neither started nor completed it. He just wasn't that big a deal.

American St. Patrick's Day is for immigrants and their descendants.

Today is the day when, annually, Irish Americans think back over their own marginalization and how they resisted it. St. Padraig doesn't mean much in Ireland, but here, the Irish Saint was a rallying point for people of a culture and faith that were looked down on as inferior. Corned beef was not an Irish food in the 19th century, but a food adopted by the Irish in America which they learned about from their Jewish neighbors.

I wonder what the refugees from the Great Famine would think about their descendants today.

My maternal grandfather was a Walsh, and the son of immigrants who came from Ireland to the US in the 1880s. He boxed with the police athletic league, worked hard to provide a good life for his wife and daughters, and helped to make his neighborhood a community. That's what I think of when I consider my Irish heritage. St. Patrick's day means little in Ireland. Here in the states, it's about immigrants surviving, thriving, and honoring themselves, no matter what their adopted nation may try to do to them.

I think it's really important that the descendants of the Irish immigrants who came here remember what their antecedents endured and avoid inflicting it on the people who came along behind them.

Immigrant solidarity here, in the US, is what matters about the day.

So yeah. I have strong feelings about Saint Patrick's Day, and about misrepresentations of it. Up the Irish! Up ALL immigrants!

---

This link goes to an entertaining article about Patrick, which in turn links to a navigable online version of the Confessio, Patrick's own writing in his own words:

[ellaintrigue]

Erin and I worked Salisbury all day yesterday doing merch deliveries. It was rough. Boiling hot car and sore feet from walking around in circles up to an hour at a time. At one point the car started shaking and the front tire was bumping so we thought we had a flat. We weren't able to pull over right away and we both just started crying. Not over the tire itself but just everything in general. Costs and life stress. Fortunately we had only run over some wet asphalt which had formed a lump on the rubber but I saw a nail stuck in another tread. Finally we took a rest next to a huge peeling red truck that looked like it was owned by a serial killer lol.

While I'm doing better than a lot of people the desperation of constantly fighting for cash gets to you. There have been points in my life I've felt so desperate I've felt like robbing a place. I wouldn't but poverty makes people desperate and the first night that thought ever crossed my mind I didn't have any food.

We drove through the ghettos dodging angry pit bulls and saw people standing and screaming at each other in their dirt yards. There was a man passed out in a parking lot and it didn't even startle me at this point. He was laying halfway on the pavement and halfway on the grass. I mean, I felt bad but couldn't tell if he was in crisis or not and if you call 911 it could result in trouble for him. Cops can be incredibly cruel in my experience, let alone to a homeless man. I remember the time they slammed my ex's foot in their car door on purpose and then laughed at him as he was having a bipolar meltdown. They had been called to take him to the hospital, not over any crime.

As we worked I saw many pregnant women. They were all black ladies. I've never wanted to be pregnant but am not repulsed by the sight of pregnancy. However it is hard on a woman and costly. If a woman doesn't pay for her birth and child then the government does. And honestly, I can't judge all cases of that because it is very hard to afford children even with both parents working full time if they do have both parents.

Conservatives want cuts to EBT and other sources of welfare which would hurt a lot of families. On the other hand I think that many people would think twice about popping out kids they can't support which would be a good thing. Because many do choose to have too many with no plans of actually providing for them. The children won't go to college, they'll grow up in the ghettos of Salisbury, work shitty jobs if at all, and pop out more children to continue the cycle.

With the right being against abortion it makes no sense for them to want to cut into welfare funding however. Who is going to support the hundreds of thousands of more children if abortion was totally banned? The fact that there are few horrors worse than a forced pregnancy aside, our tax dollars would have to go to additional maternity hospitals, and other places for pregnant women. We would also need more women's prisons because harming your fetus can be consider child abuse. Either an attempt to end the pregnancy or via addiction. That means that addict women would have to be incarcerated along with anyone who tried to injure or neglect themselves in an attempt to harm the pregnancy.

After the thousands upon thousands of births from the unwanted pregnancies more tax dollars would be needed to provide for these children. The adoption and foster systems are already overwhelmed with neglected children, many in temporary homes where they are being used for their welfare money and often abused. Carers get paid thousands per child. I've talked to many people who grew up in the foster system and a horrifying majority of them, both males and females, have told me they were raped by older males in the households.

We also never talk about human trafficking in the United States, the majority which is probably (haven't checked the stats) is children. Ocean City trafficking is mostly foreign women while lower Virginia is mostly little girls. A house near dad's was raided for selling little black girls a few years ago.

Since I became disabled in 2018, while I have not done anything illegal, I have had the misfortune of working in an industry that brushes up against these things as well. The United States South is absolutely feral and brutal in some of the worst ways especially the Carolinas. One thing I remember is a woman probably in her 60s with one breast removed from cancer posing up against a wall nude. Her eyes haunt me. Because while she took her own clothes off and stood there life probably didn't really give her a choice. Her pimp probably didn't give her a choice. And the children in these scenarios? No choice ever.

The world doesn't need more children unless they are wanted and properly cared for by loving parents who can afford them.

[hardynwa]

US-based widow discloses how stepson exhume her husband’s corpse

A United States-based woman from Ike Mgboko, Obingwa Local Government Area of Abia State, Lady Blessing Ben Nwamkpa, tells GODFREY GEORGE how her stepson stormed the burial of her husband, Sir Benjamin, exhumed his corpse and escaped with it in December 2022 You claimed that your stepson stormed your husband’s burial and exhumed his corpse. When did it happen? My husband, Sir Benjamin Nwankpa, died on July 23, 2022, and was laid to rest on December 28, 2022. I want to also mention that the service of songs that was held on December 2, 2022, in the United States of America was also stained with violence. My stepson came with armed thugs to disrupt the process. We had to call the police before they ran away. I have the videos and pictures of everything. Why do you think your husband’s son will do such a thing at the burial of his father? I don’t know. To be very honest, I don’t know. For how long were you married to your husband before he died? We were married for more than 32 years. We first met in 1989 although it was unofficial. He had always known me since I was 12 or 13 years and had told me that he would make sure he married me. I thought it was a joke, but he stood his ground. Around June 1989, we reconnected and that same year, he did the first and second wine carrying there in Osisioma Local Government Area of Abia State. Then, we were scheduled to do the traditional marriage in December but because of some unforeseen circumstances, we had our marriage in January 1990. That was our traditional marriage. He was based in the United States and didn’t want me to come to the States with a visiting visa because of the experiences his friends had. He wanted me to wait patiently and get my permanent residency before I travelled. So, he travelled before me. We planned to wed in the US, but I got pregnant for him along the way, and we couldn’t do it. So, the church wedding was held on May 18, 1991. I gave birth to my first child in July of the same year. Were you aware he had a son? Three weeks before the wedding, my husband then told me that he had a son from someone. I was mad because of my own childhood experience. My mom was married to my stepfather who had two children ahead. Even though she made all the money and provided for those kids, at the death of my stepfather, they rose up and chased my mother away from the house. My mother had to move into her maternity home. It was an awful experience for all of us. She didn’t want to speak up. She wanted to protect the family’s image. She didn’t want her name out there. She endured all the torture, but at the end of everything, she died as a result of the trauma. As a result of this, as a child, I made a vow not to marry any man with any baggage. So, when he told me three weeks before our wedding after we had sent out invites and I was already seven months pregnant, I had to make the sacrifice. He told me that the mother rejected the young boy and that I would be the only person the boy would know. It was discomforting but I accepted it and welcomed him into my home. Being a mother myself, I took care of him. How can he now rise up against the only woman he has ever known as a mother since his own biological mother allegedly abandoned him in America? The mother is a black American, not even a Nigerian. That young man was the ring bearer during our wedding. I accepted him as my own child. At that age, when he was brought to me, he was not circumcised. I was the one who took him to my mother who circumcised him. How old was he when he was brought to you? He was four years and a few months old. He was born on December 26, 1986. How old was your husband before he died? He was 71 years old. What was your relationship like with this young boy as he grew into adulthood? This young man has been on a mission, looking for his ‘real’ family outside. He never, for one day, despite all I did for him, accepted me as his mother. He didn’t even accept my family. If you look at what is happening, you will see that he never accepted us. The way the immigrants treat black American women here is to use them as free access to getting a green card, and once that is done, they take off. It seems that was the kind of relationship that my husband shared with his mother. What my stepson did was an abomination. For him to go and exhume the corpse of his own father is not just abominable; it is a suicidal mission. Was your stepson at his father’s burial? No, he was not there at the burial in Mgboko Okpulor, Obingwa LG of Abia State. He was not there when the ceremony began. However, he came in when we dug the grave and the body was being lowered into the grave and exhumed the corpse. He came with hired thugs who are from another community and exhumed the corpse amid the shooting from the police and the thugs. Together with the youths, he was able to exhume the corpse. This was as they were beginning to cover up the grave. He just stormed the place with gunmen, and they started shooting. He beat up the pastor who came to officiate the burial of his own father. I have video evidence of everything I am saying here and will provide them if the need arises. Where were you at this time? I was around and I was hurt. I never expected that the young man I raised would disrespect me publicly in such a manner. I never expected him to desecrate the grave of his own father. I was shocked as I watched. What marvelled me most was that I had massive security there – the army, the Rapid Response Team, the police, the vigilante – but nobody did anything. They didn’t even ask them to stop the sacrilege. My security details were so relaxed as though they were acting on someone else’s order. If you ask me who? I don’t know. Do you think your stepson’s action was influenced by anybody? I believe that there are a lot of key players in this, but I don’t know who they are. I have not been able to identify them. Someone must have relaxed the security. Before I came in for the burial, I wrote the state Commissioner of Police to help me secure my children because I felt there was a threat to life. I also wrote to the state Criminal Investigation and Intelligence Department and all my applications were approved. How then can you explain why these men who are supposed to be protecting me were so relaxed? How has this affected you knowing that your husband’s corpse has been exhumed? I am restless. I know that my husband was a good man when he was alive. He helped many people. He put others first even before his own family. He did a lot for his community. So, for his corpse to be exhumed in such a manner is disgraceful. He has become a laughingstock and a centre of ridicule by gossips. How can I be happy knowing that his corpse is not at rest? How can the villagers watch while this young man desecrated his father’s corpse? How can the security agents whom I invited to watch as all these happened? I went through the right channel to get them. I got a court order. Was there any disagreement before the burial? When my stepson came to disrupt the wake on December 2, 2022, he warned us that the one in Nigeria would be worst. He was calling people and telling them not to attend the burial. He called the Anglican Church where my husband worshipped till his death and asked them not to attend the burial if they don’t want to die. He told them that anyone he could not kill, he will kidnap. So, the bishop refused to come. I had to get another pastor to bury my husband, but he came there to beat the pastor up. Read the full article

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

┅┅┅┅┅┅┅༻❁༺┅┅┅┅┅┅┅

(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 16th, 2021

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Former Sen. David Perdue lashed out at Democratic gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams on the eve of Georgia's primary elections with racist remarks accusing her of "demeaning her own race" in characterizing some of the state's challenges.

Perdue, who is trailing in the GOP primary race for governor, made the comments at his final campaign event in Dunwoody, Georgia, on Monday, when he sat for an interview with right-wing radio personality John Fredericks, a Trump-supporting host of a show on Real America’s Voice News.

Perdue attacked Abrams, who is Black, for saying over the weekend that Georgia was the worst state in the country to live in, referring to its poor maternal mortality rankings and incarceration rates, among other things.

"She said that 'Georgia is the worst place in the country to live.' Hey, she ain’t from here," Perdue said. "Let her go back where she came from. She doesn’t like it here. The only thing she wants is to be president of the United States. She doesn't care about the people in Georgia."

He continued by citing remarks Abrams made in 2018. "When she told Black farmers you don’t need to be on the farm and she told Black workers in hospitality and all this you don’t need to be ... she is demeaning her own race when it comes to that."

Perdue appeared to be referring to comments Abrams made during her first campaign for governor, in 2018, when she drew criticism for saying: "I want to create a lot of different jobs, because people shouldn’t have to go into agriculture or hospitality in Georgia to make a living in Georgia. Why not create renewable energy jobs? Because, I’m going to tell y’all a secret, climate change is real," according to The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

In an interview Monday with MSNBC host Joy Reid, Abrams acknowledged her remarks over the weekend were "inartfully delivered" but said they were "well intended."

Abrams said she was trying to articulate that constituents across the state have indicated they're "deeply in pain" and concerned about the actions of GOP Gov. Brian Kemp, including allowing the end of extra pandemic-related food aid under the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and striking several million dollars from the state budget for HIV and AIDS medical care.

"My point is well intended, which is that for so many Georgians, this is not the No. 1 place to be, but we have the capacity for greatness, and if people didn’t splice the pieces they like and actually listened to my entire narrative, my point is that I want more for Georgia," she said. "I believe in our greatness. I moved here the first time because my parents brought me. I came back the second time because this is where I want to live."

Asked to respond to Perdue's remark Monday about how Abrams has been "demeaning her race," Abrams seemed to brush it off, talking instead about what she described as failures by Republicans to provide health insurance and other benefits to Georgians.

"We are No. 2 in the nation for the uninsured, which means the poorest among us who are in the most desperate need of help are still being told by this governor and this Republican Party we will not help you," she said. "I can apologize all day for my phrasing, but I will never apologize for my meaning, and that is that we need to serve the people of Georgia, and we mean to make Georgia better for everyone."

Asked again about Perdue’s comments at a news conference Tuesday, Abrams said she didn't want to respond, adding that Republicans have attacked her for the last six months but have done "nothing to attack the challenges facing Georgia" or "to articulate their plans for the future of Georgia."

"I urge everyone to pay less attention to rhetoric and more attention to the record and to the results," she said.

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

-------------------------------------------------------

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

[spiltscribbles]

Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

.-

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

.-

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

.-

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

.-

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

.-

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[dahlia-coccinea]

Are the second generation really meant to mirror the first? I'm helping my sister revise for her end of unit test on it and it's mentioned quiet a bit in her notes but from what I've read (though tbf though- I'm reading certain parts for revision) I'm not really getting the vibe of that tbh. Can you help me understand why people may think this. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I'm certainly not an expert on the book and the criticisms about it - I read about it purely for my own enjoyment and there are many interpretations I’m probably not aware of. 

First, I would say they aren’t exact replicas or mirrors but are more like echos or perhaps extensions of the first generation. Certainly all the baggage of the previous generation is placed on them. Catherine Linton and Hareton Earnshaw are much easier to connect to the first generation then Linton is, in my opinion, but some critics have tried to do so - mostly in asserting that there is a love triangle between them similar to Heathcliff/Catherine/Edgar. There are a number of connections that critics make between Hareton/Cathy and Heathcliff/Catherine and some have been told a million times but I’ll try to cover the ones I remember. Let me see if I can keep this organized and not get too off topic. 

The similarity of their characters: At first glance you have the repetition of names - “C” and “H” appear repeatedly. Most apparent is that Catherine Linton is named for her mother. Hareton, although obviously an old family name since its been carved above the threshold of the Heights, it does feel intentional in furthering the connection between “C” and “H.” I’ve always found it interesting we have this scene from Cathy II and Linton in Chapter 14, that seems to directly call out the C & H connection:

“We found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops, and hoops, and battledores and shuttlecocks. One was marked C., and the other H.; I wished to have the C., because that stood for Catherine, and the H. might be for Heathcliff, his name; but the bran came out of H., and Linton didn’t like it.”

Funnily I don’t think the H is for Heathcliff, I think its more likely meant for Hindley, but of course Heathcliff has been semi-assimilated into the Earnshaw family by being given the name Heathcliff, which was the name of a deceased child. To me at least, none of these feel unintentional, it feels fated since we have these repetitions noted by the characters themselves.

Cathy doesn’t only share a name with her mother, she lives in her shadow. We know from Nelly that, “On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs of rejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress’s death.” Edgar seems to cherish her in part because she is a remnant of her mother, even displaying many similar characteristics, although Nelly is quick to note Cathy is softer and more genteel - which makes sense considering she grows up with a loving father in a calm environment that lets her do as she pleases. She doesn't grow up with the harshness of the Earnshaw family, and Joseph's ranting, and it also seems that Nelly may have softened and become more maternal as years have gone by. I’d say she does become more and more like her mother after living at Wuthering Heights though. 

Some really great parallels between the two Catherine’s dialog have been made by Ann Dobyns - I’ve posted a few excerpts from her essay here if anyone is interested, it’s a bit more in-depth than this needs to be though.

Hareton has many parallels to Heathcliff as well - this is intentionally done by Heathcliff who, upon Hindley’s death, speaking of his plotting says, “And we’ll see if one tree won’t grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!” Heathcliff and Hareton have such an odd fated destiny, from the moment Heathcliff saves his life by catching him as his father dropped him over the bannister of second floor. Hareton from the start fears his natural father, “squalling and kicking in his father’s arms,” Nelly even fears Hindley will “frighten the child into fits.” Worlds different the description of a scene of very typical father/son affection described by Nelly during Hindley’s funeral when she says little Hareton, “played with Heathcliff’s whiskers, and stroked his cheek.” Or earlier when she had asked Hareton if he liked Heathcliff and he says:

“Ay!” he answered again. Desiring to have his reasons for liking him, I could only gather the sentences—“I known’t: he pays dad back what he gies to me—he curses daddy for cursing me.

In Hareton’s mind Heathcliff is more a protector than his father, and I suppose in many ways he is better than Hindley’s random obscene violence. As wrong as it is that Heathcliff denies Hareton his inheritance and an education, I think it does say something (not entirely sure what) that he is never physically abusive to Hareton in the way Hindley was with him. Hareton doesn’t ever show any real fear of Heathcliff. 

Heathcliff has his own complex feelings towards Hareton, definitely preferring him to his own son - he tells Nelly, “Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation? I’d have loved the lad had he been some one else.” So it seems we have the daughter of Catherine and the wished for son of Heathcliff. Lockwood even mistakes Hareton to be Heathcliff’s son momentarily in Chapter 2.

Some other parallels - Heathcliff notes the similarities between them later on in a discussion with Nelly:

“He’ll not venture a single syllable all the time! Nelly, you recollect me at his age—nay, some years younger. Did I ever look so stupid: so ‘gaumless,’ as Joseph calls it?”

“Worse,” I replied, “because more sullen with it.”

On other occasions Nelly talks about how Heathcliff liked to induce horror from those around him and “he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness.” Hareton behaves similarly - in one scene after being taunted by Linton and Cathy, he throws Linton from the room to the disgust and fear of Cathy in Chapter 23:

...Earnshaw burst the door open: having gathered venom with reflection. He advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm, and swung him off the seat.

“‘Get to thy own room!’ he said, in a voice almost inarticulate with passion; and his face looked swelled and furious. ‘Take her there if she comes to see thee: thou shalln’t keep me out of this. Begone wi’ ye both!’

“He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer, nearly throwing him into the kitchen; and he clenched his fist as I followed, seemingly longing to knock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall; he kicked it after me, and shut us out.”

Similarly, when sitting next to him, Lockwood says, “My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive.” Even Nelly, who I’d say is typically biased towards Hareton, upon seeing him says he “seemed as awkward and rough as ever.”  Lockwood also describes him as being “almost haughty,” similar to Nelly’s repeated references to Heathcliff’s ego and “proud heart.” 

Heathcliff further casts light on their parallels when he says he sees Hareton as the “personification of my youth,” adding that, “Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love, of my wild endeavours to hold my right, my degradation, my pride, my happiness, and my anguish.” 

The love triangle:  I know some critics have said the dynamic between the Linton/Catherine/Hareton is similar to Edgar/Catherine/Heathcliff - I don't particularly see this. Cathy II is forced into marriage with Linton and at that point doesn't have notable feelings towards Hareton, compared to her mother who knows she loves Heathcliff more and still does have a choice to make even if it isn’t an easy one. 

Still, there are similarities in their relationship in that both men (Heathcliff and Hareton) end up feeling the need to better themselves because for their respective Catherine. Nelly says of Hareton, “He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval were his first prompters to higher pursuits.” I think this is similar to Heathcliff deciding to run away after years of abuse and to risk everything, including his life, after hearing Catherine says it would “degrade” her to marry him. Hareton does seem to show some jealously over Cathy’s attention and regard of Linton, and again with the presence of Lockwood so I suppose it is sort of love triangle-y? 

I also think Hareton shows signs of a growing devotion, similar to what Heathcliff felt towards Catherine. He certainly seems to be enamored by Cathy from the very first time they meet - Nelly says he, “stared at her with considerable curiosity and astonishment” and was, “too awkward to speak; though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.”

Something I’ve mentioned before is that Lockwood says about Hareton and Cathy, “Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions,” which feels like a direct parallel to Heathcliff’s assertion to Catherine that, “misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us.” 

Also Heathcliff seemingly attempts to play the role Hindley played in his youth when he tells Cathy, “Your love will make him an outcast and a beggar.” It seems both Catherine and Heathcliff knew their love would result in the same situation as Catherine relays this to Nelly when she says, “did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars?” 

There is also, of course, the similarity of social stature - when Cathy first meets Hareton, he has nothing to his name and lives almost as a servant at Wuthering Heights, similar to Heathcliff’s position while Hindley was master. Cathy, similar to her mother, is better educated and has more opportunities - there is no socially accepted reason that she would choose Hareton, seeing as he can’t give her money, status, or respectability. 

The circle of events and “The Butterfly:” It does feel, in my opinion at least, that it is no accident that our happy ending is the union of Hareton and Cathy. It couldn’t happen with just any couple or in any other way. It does feel that they are made into the semi-proteges of Heathcliff and Catherine, and the elements of the Linton’s allows for there to be peace between the two families. There is a kind of resolution and unification of their energies. 

This is probably the most common narrative of the connection between Hareton/Cathy and Heathcliff/Catherine, and that is rather than just a parallel, critics have noted that the story of Catherine comes full circle with their marriage. The first Catherine wrote out her possible futures on her window sill in the names: Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Heathcliff and Catherine Linton. Her daughter ends up reversing these different identities being born a Linton, marrying a Heathcliff, and finally an Earnshaw. That can’t be merely a coincidence.

Critic Dorothy Van Ghent deemed Catherine and Heathcliff the “original two” and she said that with the civilizing of Cathy and Hareton, "the great magic, the wild power, of the original two has been lost.” Others say that while poetically it makes sense within the repetition, Catherine and Hareton’s relationship is “improbable” but I disagree. I really liked Carol Ramsden’s take on this that incorporates Emily’s essay “The Butterfly,” and makes the parallel between the 1st and 2nd generation - I have posted this before but to save myself the time of rephrasing it I’ll just post the quote:

In Wuthering Heights, we encounter a destructive principle at work in the love between Catherine and Heathcliff. The principle is manifested fully in Catherine’s mental collapse and Heathcliff’s vindictiveness. However, the love between Cathy and Hareton is allowed to flower and they are both, in their own ways, products of the first lovers. The principle of destruction, as in “The Butterfly”, is transformed into a creative energy. Ultimately, Catherine and Heathcliff are also not deprived of this creative energy. Instead of representing a pessimistic view of life, their love, too, comes to suggest that all things work together towards good.

I think that’s an interesting take, besides just a happy ending for Hareton and Cathy it almost feels like a happy ending for Catherine and Heathcliff? In some ways they burned up only to transform into something better. Not saying that is how it is meant to be read, but I do like it (probably because I like a happy ending). 

I feel like there are other points that I’ve forgotten? But these are what I remember at least. 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 13: Ironing Out The Kinks

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Instalment 13 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​ ‘s telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom has a hot iron in his hands. What could possibly go wrong?

Series Masterlist. 

“Are you Ironing?” You stopped dead in the doorway of the laundry room, not quite sure you believed your eyes. In front of you stood Hugh Ransom Drysdale at the other side of an ironing board. A basket of clothes sat behind him on the side and a selection of freshly pressed ones were hanging up over the door frame.

“No, I’m playing Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.” He drawled, not looking up as he lifted the iron off the blue polo shirt, grabbing a clothes hangar.

“Doesn’t look like a piano.” You looked at him and he took a deep breath, shooting you a glare. You chuckled “Sorry, I…what brought this on?”

“Well…” he paused, turning to hang the item up next to a few others “…you fell asleep, and I know this pile was bugging you so thought I’d make a start. I’m not as fast as you, though.” He mused, gesturing to the items hanging up. “It’s taken me an hour so far and I’ve not done much. How the fuck do you do it so quickly?”

“You just need more practice.” You smiled.

“Huh, maybe it is like playing the piano.” He looked at you and you laughed as you crossed the room towards him whilst he reached for the next item out of the basket which was one of his shirts.

“Be careful.” You smiled, your arms wrapping around him from behind as you pressed your cheek to his back, his t-shirt soft against your skin. “I’m fond of that one.”

And you were. You’d actually worn to work a few times given your ever expanding bump. It was comfy and baggy enough to simply shrug on over a camisole top and a pair of simple black trousers and make you feel like you could still wear professional looking clothes without them feeling like they were going to burst at the seams.

Maternity office wear just wasn’t doing it for you.

“Well stop distracting me and we won’t have a problem.” Ransom moved and you simply hugged him tighter, feeling the muscles of his back ripple as he arranged the item on the board. You stayed still, pressed against him, simply enjoying the feel of his back pressed to your chest and you let out a deep breath.

“Y/N.” his voice took on a warning tone.

“What?” you asked innocently, as your hands began to toy with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” you protested again, your nails gently scraping over his abdomen. He gave a grunt and jolted a little.

“This iron is hot. I could do some damage to myself.��� He grit out after a moment, his voice a little strained and you could tell he was fighting to keep control.

“Well we haven’t been to the ER in a few weeks.” You mumbled, your fingers skating across the waist band of his jeans.

Ransom took a deep breath and you grinned to yourself, those damned pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on your libido but you were fucked if you cared. You had your own, ready-made outlet right in front of you. And true to form, the minute your fingers reached for the buckle of his belt he gave a growl, set the iron down and spun to face you.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” He looked down at you, and you looked up at him coyly, biting your lip.

“Wanna be a pain in mine?” you shot back and his eyes narrowed, that familiar predatory look crossing his face as he shook his head.

“Oh, Princess, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered as his lips crashed to yours, hands on your hips to pull you as flush to him as he could with the basketball that was your belly in between you both. His tongue invaded your mouth as one large hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in your hair. He backed you up to the unit at the side of the room, as roughly as he dared given your ‘condition’, the base of your back pressing into the edge. You let out a soft moan, your fingers reaching down to undo his belt and with an easy movement he reached down, gripping your thighs. With a half jump from you and half a lift from him he had you perched on the sideboard, your legs wrapped round his waist, his lips still eagerly pressed to yours.

“Such a needy little bitch.” He growled as you finally popped the button on the top of his jeans and slid the zip down.

“Only for you.” You smirked against his mouth as your hand slid into his trousers, wrapping around his hardening cock. “And you love it, Ransom.”

“Fuck, yeah I do.” He groaned, his hips pushing forward as he thrust into your palm, releasing his hold on you as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. As he continued to rut into your hand, he reached for the hem of your soft woollen jersey dress, guiding it over your head before his lips traipsed a path down your neck to your collar bone, nipping and sucking at exactly the right places which he could find with his eyes closed. He placed hot, open mouthed kisses down your sternum, over the swell of each engorged breast, taking his time knowing that you were particularly sensitive. With soft, gentle fingers he pulled one of the cups of your bra down and began lavishing his affections on your pert nipple teasing a strangled moan from the back of your throat, your head falling backwards as the heat between your legs intensified, your panties now nothing but a sodden mess.

And then a smell broke through your lust addled senses making you still, and you grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dior Sauvage.” his voice was muffled as his mouth still worked at your breast.

“No that’s not…fuck!” Your eyes rolled as he slipped his fingers into your leggings. “Stop a moment, I’m being…Oh, God…” you swallowed, head tilting backwards as he shifted your panties to the side, fingers gathering your slick as he began to tease at your clit.

“No, just me.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin and you shifted a little, allowing his hand more access, desperate for relief.

And then you caught another whiff, and it suddenly registered through the haze in your mind exactly what it was.

“Ransom!” your eyes flew open and over his shoulder you spotted the smoke rising from behind his broad back “Get the iron!”

“I’m open to most things, sweetheart, but I draw the line at…”

“No, you asshole, you left it on the fucking shirt!” you pushed him away and he spun round as you jumped down from the side. He gave a yell and started towards it, but in his haste he forgot his pants were round his ankles and he crashed to the floor in a heap of limbs uttering a string of expletives as he went.

“Son of a mother fucking bitch!” his elbow collided with the tiled floor with a loud thud. “Ow, fuck!”

You pulled the iron up, yanking the shirt off the board and dropping it into the metal sink where it continued to smoulder and you turned to look at the iron shaped burn mark in the board cover. Ransom pushed himself to his feet, taking a deep breath as he raked his hair back off his forehead, before he rubbed his elbow. Neither of you spoke for a second, before you looked at one another.

“That one is NOT on me.” Ransom pointed at you. “I told you to quit distracting me.”

“You have all the willpower of a toddler at Christmas.” You scoffed and he arched an eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, you practically raped me.” He drawled and you let out a huge snort, shaking your head.

“God you talk some crap.”

“Eat shit”

“That’s the best you can do? Eat shit?” you laughed, hands falling to your hips as you stood there clad in your bra and leggings, his eyes scanning you up and down before they locked onto yours. “Your insults are wearing a little thin, Tiger.”

At the use of the ridiculous nickname you had for him, one that was normally reserved for the bedroom he gave a little growl and in a flash he was back on you, his hands cupping your ass and you gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted you off your feet despite the extra eighteen pound of baby bump and pregnancy fat you were sporting.

“Now,” he spoke, before giving you a deep kiss, pulling back to look you in the eye and the familiar lustful twinkle in those deep baby blues made you groan wantonly. He cocked an eyebrow up, as he smirked arrogantly at you. “I believe we were in the middle of something Mrs Drysdale.”

“You know…” you muttered, as he perched you back in your previous position on the sideboard, his mouth soon back on that spot on your neck. “Of all your recent domestic disasters, I think this one is my favourite.”

“Careful, Doll…” he growled, nipping at your skin, coaxing a squeak from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair “You’re in a very precarious position. I’d think twice about making fun of me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you gave a yank, tugging on the longer strands at the top of his head, causing him to hiss slightly as his head tilted back, his face inches from yours.

“Both.” he quipped, before his mouth claimed yours once more.

[theimmaterialplace]

holding on | emily prentiss x reader & spencer reid x reader | ch. 3: just the way you are

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s day after.

Contains: mentions of death.

Word Count: 2k

Comments: haha, uni is kicking my ass! sorry for the three weeks it took to post this, this chapter would just not write itself :( also i literally have future chapters finished but i need to get the in between chapters done before that so sorry! a lot may not have happened but spencer is seeing something here. he hasn't been able to come to a conclusion quite yet but he will soon... but will it be before the reader spills? also yeah, this story is filled with headcanons because i can't help myself! :D

i love jj but she gives off overbearing vibes and rn spencer needs some space from everyone that reminds him of emily/will only want to talk about his feelings. little does he know for that first part...

the next chapter is the funeral and after party!!! hope you enjoyed the chapter! lemme know what you think!

masterlist | read on ao3

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far, mmm

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I'll take you just the way you are

- Billy Joel, Just The Way You Are

When Spencer enters the room, it reveals relieved coworkers. JJ is the first one to approach him, eyes red and worry evident on her face. She pulls him into a hug as soon as she reaches him.

“Spencer, we were so worried when you left last night,” her whisper might as well be a scolding in his ears but he’ll take it because he never meant to worry his team, not like this. She pulls away and cradles his face gently in her hands.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize how bad it would seem to everyone. I… I didn’t want to make anyone worry after everything else.” He closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions that will only bring him to his knees.

Derek speaks up then and it’s like he knows. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kid.” Looking at him, Spencer can tell he hasn’t slept and has cried the whole night through. If he had stayed with them, he likely would look the same. As it is, he barely got a few hours asleep, as haunted as his dreams were.

“Me too.”

His team is in shambles. It’s not just that Emily has gone away and left them, left him, like Gideon or Elle. No, she’s never coming back because she is dead, just like every other cadaver they’ve encountered in their line of work. Statistically speaking, death in their line of work was highly likely and it’s a miracle he’s managed to avoid it for so long.

Perhaps it’s because Emily has always been impressive but he’d never thought she’d be the one to die. If anything, he’d bet himself before anyone else on his team.

His team is talking to one another and Spencer can’t hear anything they’re saying. All their words are blurring into unintelligible words and the only thing he can see are their faces.

Rossi is a slab of stone being chipped at little by little into something unrecognizable. Hotch’s eyes are red and his face is pale and an ever looming cloud of guilt surrounds him. He wonders why; it wasn’t his fault she died. Morgan is much the same but there is an anger in him that he hasn’t seen before.

Morgan’s anger simmers underneath his skin; he’s frustrated that he wasn’t fast enough to save her or to catch Doyle. His sadness has become eclipsed for now but he knows it’s there, buried under the guilt and rage he feels. Perhaps it’s because Garcia takes on the brunt of it, the grief is written all over her face. She’s always worn her emotions on her sleeve and this hasn’t changed. He chooses not to look at her because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep it together. Someone so vulnerable makes him want to do the same and he feels vulnerable enough as it is.

JJ is like Hotch, guilt and grief clouds her. She keeps sweeping her hair back and chewing on her cheek, a habit when she doesn’t want to focus on what’s plaguing her.

Their tells are obvious to him and he’s memorized all of them, every little action they’ve done is cataloged in his brain and this is no different. He had already known what they’d be like and what they’d do when he saw them.

He hears Ambassador Prentiss’ voice stutter when she asks why Hotch has called and he wonders if she already knows and wants to hear it before she comes down so she can grieve on her own time. He stays quiet and that’s as good as confirmation for her because her breath hitches and she says she’ll be down in an hour.

Emily never spoke much of her mother but she takes- took after her greatly. They share the same face and hair color. It’s like her mother had asexually produced because he sees no difference between the two; there was no bit of her father in Emily. The only difference between the two are the crow’s feet and smile lines on her mother’s face and he realizes that Emily will grow to her mother’s age because she died too young.

Hotch delivers the news, as expected of his status of Unit Chief, and Ambassador Prentiss is stoic and nods at the news of her only child’s death. She asks for details and Hotch is only able to give her the bare minimum and she only nods and thanks him and the rest of them. She goes up to Morgan and takes his hands into her own and whispers something only for his ears. He stiffens but nods and she goes away with the request that they inform her of their decision of when the funeral is and that she’ll pay for everything.

It’s a bit cold the way she all but announces how she doesn’t want to be included in the planning of her daughter’s funeral but Emily always had described her as cold and distant, loving only in private and when convenient.

The planning process takes up the rest of the afternoon and it passes him by quickly and he knows it’s mostly because he disassociated through most of it. JJ and Hotch shot him with worried glances all day and he just wants to go back to your apartment. He doesn’t want to go to his apartment just yet, not when he'll have to come face to face with the reminders of her in his own apartment.

The funeral is booked three days away and he shoots you a text and you respond a minute later with a simple thumbs up.

He tells the team he’ll be heading out and unsurprisingly JJ speaks up over this.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I can give you a ride or you can come over. I don’t want you to be alone, Spencer.” Her voice is meant to be soothing in that maternal way she’s learned but it grates at his nerves. He doesn’t need to be babied. He knows she’s just worried about him but Emily’s death has left him exposed in a way that throws him off his rhythm.

“Thanks JJ, but a friend is picking me up. I’ll be staying with her tonight.” The team exchanges looks in a way that is meant to be subtle but Spencer has always had an eye for details so he doesn’t miss it but he doesn’t call it out.

“Oh well, okay, if you’re sure…?” He nods and she acquiesces but says she’ll walk him out. She waits with him outside while he waits for you. You pull up in your car with his favorite Billy Joel song on and he can’t help the tiny grin that spreads on his face.

You look tired but happy to see him and he knows that JJ probably wants to examine you but he really just wants to get out of here and cuts her off before she can say anything and says goodbye to her while getting into your car.

He can smell the aroma of Italian in the backseat and he knows you went to the little restaurant he frequents after a bad case because the food reminds him of when his mother used to order takeout because much like himself, she was a disaster in the kitchen. It made him happy that you remembered.

Billy Joel’s velvet voice is enough to fill the silence. He watches you as you drive, noticing how you tap your fingertips to the beat of the song on the steering wheel and how it’s obvious now that you’re distracting yourself from something. He hadn’t been able to see it before because he was too lost in his own grief but there was something off about your demeanor.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment, he finds it to be cleaner than it was in the morning and set for maximum comfort. Your couch is covered with soft, thick blankets with animals on them, cobijas, you had called them. He’s fairly certain that just means blanket in Spanish. The table that is usually in the middle of your living room is pushed closer to the couch and it’s where you set the food at so he assumes it’s where the two of you will be eating.

Your record player is playing jazz music. A compromise, you had told him one evening, appealing to his classical music needs with it’s long instrumentals and your love of their crooning and smooth voices.

“Hey, Spence, what do we feel like drinking tonight?” Your voice jolts him out of his observations and he looks towards you where you’re peering at the available drinks in your fridge, two ice-filled glasses set on the counter beside you.

“Arnold Palmer?” You hum and grab two pitchers from your fridge and set it out on the counter and he watches as you mix the two together so it’s not separated. You set the two pitchers back into the fridge and bring the two drinks to where he’s sitting, handing him one and placing the other on your coaster.

He watches as you take out the food from the bags and put his own container in front of him along with two pieces of garlic bread and his own fork and napkin.

Once you’re all done, you take a drink from your glass and open your container and take a bite of your usual order. He follows quickly after, knowing from experience how rapidly the food can get cold.

Time passes by and eventually the food gets finished and you’re both left alone with Billie Holiday’s voice filling the silence.

You’re nibbling on the last piece of garlic bread, your eyes focused idly on your bookshelf but more specifically on a collection of Emily Dickinson poems. He files away the fact that he’s seen this specific book somewhere and decides to ask at another time.

Once you finish, you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his midsection. He shifts so that you’re in a more comfortable position that lets you rest against him while he’s able to hold onto you as well.

Spencer can’t help but think that you always know what he needs without him needing to say anything. It’s something he hasn’t had since Elle or more accurately, Emily. It’s not even been a month and already, he craves her affection. He misses the impromptu Russian talks and the book sharing and her calming presence. You remind him so much of her. It’s like you've taken on some of her mannerisms. Perhaps it’s projection but he’s noticed for months now how you’ve changed bit by bit into someone similar to Emily.

You must have seen his tell because you look up at him, hand finding his own and squeezing it gently before bringing it to your wrist.

It’s the little things you do that bring him back to reality, no matter how painful it is. He’s not sure where he’d be right now. Most likely with JJ and her family, all the while feeling like a burden. With you, he feels vulnerable in a way he doesn’t mind. He’s known you for years and not once, have you ever made him feel small. It’s always been easy with you and he hopes the same can be said for you about him.

“Stop thinking right now, Spencer. We can do that later, like tomorrow. You need a break right now. I know it’s hard for your big brain to shut down so just focus on my pulse and match your breathing to mine.” Your voice is slightly muffled by his sweater and he can only nod and follow your instructions.

“Thank you.” He says after a while.

“ Always, Spencer.” And like always, you understand.

The words are never said but he’s sure you know it and he knows you feel the same.

[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 13: Ironing Out The Kinks

Warnings: Bad Language words, some minor smut (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Instalment 13 of mine, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @ohthankevans13​ ‘s telling of Ransom’s quest to become a normal human being. This time Ransom has a hot iron in his hands. What could possibly go wrong?

Series Masterlist

“Are you Ironing?” You stopped dead in the doorway of the laundry room, not quite sure you believed your eyes. In front of you stood Hugh Ransom Drysdale at the other side of an ironing board. A basket of clothes sat behind him on the side and a selection of freshly pressed ones were hanging up over the door frame.

“No, I’m playing Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.” He drawled, not looking up as he lifted the iron off the blue polo shirt, grabbing a clothes hangar.

“Doesn’t look like a piano.” You looked at him and he took a deep breath, shooting you a glare. You chuckled “Sorry, I…what brought this on?”

“Well…” he paused, turning to hang the item up next to a few others “…you fell asleep, and I know this pile was bugging you so thought I’d make a start. I’m not as fast as you, though.” He mused, gesturing to the items hanging up. “It’s taken me an hour so far and I’ve not done much. How the fuck do you do it so quickly?”

“You just need more practice.” You smiled.

“Huh, maybe it is like playing the piano.” He looked at you and you laughed as you crossed the room towards him whilst he reached for the next item out of the basket which was one of his shirts.

“Be careful.” You smiled, your arms wrapping around him from behind as you pressed your cheek to his back, his t-shirt soft against your skin. “I’m fond of that one.”

And you were. You’d actually worn to work a few times given your ever expanding bump. It was comfy and baggy enough to simply shrug on over a camisole top and a pair of simple black trousers and make you feel like you could still wear professional looking clothes without them feeling like they were going to burst at the seams.

Maternity office wear just wasn’t doing it for you.

“Well stop distracting me and we won’t have a problem.” Ransom moved and you simply hugged him tighter, feeling the muscles of his back ripple as he arranged the item on the board. You stayed still, pressed against him, simply enjoying the feel of his back pressed to your chest and you let out a deep breath.

“Y/N.” his voice took on a warning tone.

“What?” you asked innocently, as your hands began to toy with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” you protested again, your nails gently scraping over his abdomen. He gave a grunt and jolted a little.

“This iron is hot. I could do some damage to myself.” He grit out after a moment, his voice a little strained and you could tell he was fighting to keep control.

“Well we haven’t been to the ER in a few weeks.” You mumbled, your fingers skating across the waist band of his jeans.

Ransom took a deep breath and you grinned to yourself, those damned pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc on your libido but you were fucked if you cared. You had your own, ready-made outlet right in front of you. And true to form, the minute your fingers reached for the buckle of his belt he gave a growl, set the iron down and spun to face you.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” He looked down at you, and you looked up at him coyly, biting your lip.

“Wanna be a pain in mine?” you shot back and his eyes narrowed, that familiar predatory look crossing his face as he shook his head.

“Oh, Princess, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it.” You muttered as his lips crashed to yours, hands on your hips to pull you as flush to him as he could with the basketball that was your belly in between you both. His tongue invaded your mouth as one large hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in your hair. He backed you up to the unit at the side of the room, as roughly as he dared given your ‘condition’, the base of your back pressing into the edge. You let out a soft moan, your fingers reaching down to undo his belt and with an easy movement he reached down, gripping your thighs. With a half jump from you and half a lift from him he had you perched on the sideboard, your legs wrapped round his waist, his lips still eagerly pressed to yours.

“Such a needy little bitch.” He growled as you finally popped the button on the top of his jeans and slid the zip down.

“Only for you.” You smirked against his mouth as your hand slid into his trousers, wrapping around his hardening cock. “And you love it, Ransom.”

“Fuck, yeah I do.” He groaned, his hips pushing forward as he thrust into your palm, releasing his hold on you as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. As he continued to rut into your hand, he reached for the hem of your soft woollen jersey dress, guiding it over your head before his lips traipsed a path down your neck to your collar bone, nipping and sucking at exactly the right places which he could find with his eyes closed. He placed hot, open mouthed kisses down your sternum, over the swell of each engorged breast, taking his time knowing that you were particularly sensitive. With soft, gentle fingers he pulled one of the cups of your bra down and began lavishing his affections on your pert nipple teasing a strangled moan from the back of your throat, your head falling backwards as the heat between your legs intensified, your panties now nothing but a sodden mess.

And then a smell broke through your lust addled senses making you still, and you grabbed his shoulder.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dior Sauvage.” his voice was muffled as his mouth still worked at your breast.

“No that’s not…fuck!” Your eyes rolled as he slipped his fingers into your leggings. “Stop a moment, I’m being…Oh, God…” you swallowed, head tilting backwards as he shifted your panties to the side, fingers gathering your slick as he began to tease at your clit.

“No, just me.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile against your skin and you shifted a little, allowing his hand more access, desperate for relief.

And then you caught another whiff, and it suddenly registered through the haze in your mind exactly what it was.

“Ransom!” your eyes flew open and over his shoulder you spotted the smoke rising from behind his broad back “Get the iron!”

“I’m open to most things, sweetheart, but I draw the line at…”

“No, you asshole, you left it on the fucking shirt!” you pushed him away and he spun round as you jumped down from the side. He gave a yell and started towards it, but in his haste he forgot his pants were round his ankles and he crashed to the floor in a heap of limbs uttering a string of expletives as he went.

“Son of a mother fucking bitch!” his elbow collided with the tiled floor with a loud thud. “Ow, fuck!”

You pulled the iron up, yanking the shirt off the board and dropping it into the metal sink where it continued to smoulder and you turned to look at the iron shaped burn mark in the board cover. Ransom pushed himself to his feet, taking a deep breath as he raked his hair back off his forehead, before he rubbed his elbow. Neither of you spoke for a second, before you looked at one another.

“That one is NOT on me.” Ransom pointed at you. “I told you to quit distracting me.”

“You have all the willpower of a toddler at Christmas.” You scoffed and he arched an eyebrow.

“Sweetheart, you practically raped me.” He drawled and you let out a huge snort, shaking your head.

“God you talk some crap.”

“Eat shit”

“That’s the best you can do? Eat shit?” you laughed, hands falling to your hips as you stood there clad in your bra and leggings, his eyes scanning you up and down before they locked onto yours. “Your insults are wearing a little thin, Tiger.”

At the use of the ridiculous nickname you had for him, one that was normally reserved for the bedroom he gave a little growl and in a flash he was back on you, his hands cupping your ass and you gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted you off your feet despite the extra eighteen pound of baby bump and pregnancy fat you were sporting.

“Now,” he spoke, before giving you a deep kiss, pulling back to look you in the eye and the familiar lustful twinkle in those deep baby blues made you groan wantonly. He cocked an eyebrow up, as he smirked arrogantly at you. “I believe we were in the middle of something Mrs Drysdale.”

“You know…” you muttered, as he perched you back in your previous position on the sideboard, his mouth soon back on that spot on your neck. “Of all your recent domestic disasters, I think this one is my favourite.”

“Careful, Doll…” he growled, nipping at your skin, coaxing a squeak from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair “You’re in a very precarious position. I’d think twice about making fun of me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” you gave a yank, tugging on the longer strands at the top of his head, causing him to hiss slightly as his head tilted back, his face inches from yours.

“Both.” he quipped, before his mouth claimed yours once more.