#you could not get me to talk with a gun to my head. not because i dont want to but a mysterious third reason. who knows

[rheitais]

DP X DC One shooting star later. Pt 2.

This might be my new brain rot. Thanks to @scho17 for the after math I was giggling reading about the joker being stunned, Dick growing gray and B having a mild conundrum.

I feel like Joker was getting ready to stream this to gotham but was stunned before he could start. The reason the bats are there is because they were already tracking the Nightingales for a completely different reason. For example, Maddie, Jazz and Ellie are having a girl's night with Selina, Harley and Ivy. (See 1.5 for interactions) Dante and Danny somehow end up in the middle of one or another rouges plan one way or another, always together. Jazz literally wants to be a therapist in Gotham. Jack and Maddie are terribly good at their engineering jobs.

Bruce firmly believes Jack is a meta or non-human of some kind and asks Clark to come to a gala to prove a point. After Clark interacts with Jack and sees Bruce cause for concern but after x-raying the man, Clark tells Bruce he looks completely human inside. Bruce tasks Damian to befriend Ellie since they were both in the same grade and some of the same classes. Little did Bruce know that would contribute to the greatest youngest sibling alliance.

Of course not being from this universe, Tim and Babs figure that the Nightingales essentially never existed and even the city they are from doesn't exist. Well not in the state they claim to be from. So Tim prioritizes getting close with the twins since they are close in age to get some answers or at least get them to slip up.

Though anytime they as bats approach them, the Nightingales scatter. Avoid contact and avoid talking to them completely. If they catch Ellie alone in a park or on the sidewalk she will start running, running until she is either back in safe haven called home or near one of her older siblings. If they catch the twins, the older one will either yank the other behind him before telling him to "book it" and cover his twin escape or the younger one will throw a weird stick and hit the bat square on the head before retrieving it and running off. If they catch up to Jazz, she would walk up with a smile before pulling out a gun and vaguely stating "Yeah you have the suit but I can see your face and at the bare minimum I know I don't need to worry about you being human or cryptic, I've had a very long midterm from hell so if you would excuse me I have better things to be doing" before walking away. As for the parents, Jack rarely goes out enough to be caught. As for Maddie, gave both Nightwing and Red Robin good kicks to the ribs.

[Part 1 | Part 1.5]

[grimesbunny]

earn your spot

rick grimes

cw mean rick (?) face fcking. dirty talk / dumbification

summary: you get turned on by rick scolding you and make it up to him with mindblowing sloppy. i hate writing bjs #menshouldneverfeelpleasure but it’s rick. sooo like.

you always feared for the day you’d be on the receiving end of rick’s rage, much less his disappointment. but you should’ve realized you were setting yourself up by being on your best behavior since the group rescued you. gunning for the loyalest soldier category set expectations a smidge too high, made your mistake seem all the more dire. you can’t remember what exactly you did — veering off of rick’s plan slightly on your last run in with walkers because you assumed your role couldn’t be that important — but you jeopardized the safety of the group and that’s all that matters. it’s hard to recall all the tiny details when you have a man scolding you about the principle.

it’s not like you haven’t seen him angry before, quite the opposite— you’ve witnessed a height of his rage once and it’s stuck with you ever since. rick’s the type of person you don’t want to upset, and not just because you’re intimidated, but because he has a sense of honor about him that makes you admire him. makes you want to please him and be labeled good in his book.

you knew you were fucked after being shooed away by him like an insistent fly while on the run. exiled to wait in the car on “lookout.” the ride back to the prison is eerily silent, and your muscles ache with how tense they are by the time he finally unloads. he has the decency to pull you to the side, away from watchful eyes, but his voice carries.

it’s a chastising. there’s no other word for it. the tears that sting the corners of your eyes are to be expected— you could never handle being reprimanded very well— it’s the heat gathering in your core that comes as a shock. rick’s dirty and disheveled from the run, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead while his eyes bore into yours. seemingly looking past your pout and glistening stare.

“are you questioning my judgment, kid?”

you can’t tell what’s meant to be rhetorical or not at this point, but you shake your head anyway, a nervous laugh pushing from your wobbly lips. “of- of course not.”

“then help me understand.” he says, almost defeatedly. he’s got you caged in at this point, unconsciously backing you further into the grimey prison wall. “i laid out the instructions clear and simple for you, did i not?”

with you being new, and rick being pulled in three different directions every five seconds, it’s not often that you have his full attention like you do now. never for this long, especially. it’s pathetic, but you don’t know what to do with it. you shrink in on yourself, thighs clenching together while your face grows warmer and warmer.

“i thought you were smarter than this. if you can’t handle a run, i think we need to rethink your role here.”

“no!” you exclaim. flashbacks to being all alone out there for so long ring through your mind. “i can handle it, rick. i’m sorry, i fucked up, i wasn’t thinking.”

“i don’t think you fully grasp that when we’re out there— it’s life and death. there’s no room for you to turn your brain off.” he lightly taps the side of your head for emphasis, and you involuntarily lean into the contact. it makes his eyes go curious, brows caving in just slightly. “it’s us or them. i can’t have another threat— another liability out there. or you may as well join ‘em.”

his words pierce you in the stomach like a knife. the whirlwind of conflicting emotions is making your head spin, and you reach for his arm for stability without thinking. “rick… i understand. i promise you, i do. i won’t disobey you again.”

his gaze slowly drops and lands on the contact in what feels like several heavy seconds. you’re frozen in place, unsure of whether to let go or not. the muscle of his arm relaxes when he meets your eyes again.

“i’m… disappointed. i’m trying to do right by you, but i need you to show me that you want to be here.” the way his voice has dropped an octave is distracting, and you feel the words as much as you hear them. feel them as a tingle up your spine, a pulsing that blossoms in between your thighs.

if you allowed yourself, you might wonder if he was talking about the run anymore.

“i do.” you nod. feeling emboldened, you squeeze his arm, eyes widening up at him intently. “how can i prove it to you?”

his eyes darken, and a smug sense of pride swells in you at the way his mouth drops open but no words come out. his eyes do a quick sweep of the area the two of you are in. empty cell block. secluded. alone.

“what are you asking for?” he tilts his head, almost challenging. “do you even know yourself?”

a lapse of confidence suddenly makes you hesitate. before you go to apologize and maybe run out of the room, rick speaks again.

“yeah, you know good and well, don’t you?” he whispers it like a thought between the two of you. “christ, i’m tryin’ to talk some sense into you and you’re lookin’ at me like…” he trails off, eyes dipping down to your lips. and then he laughs, turns his face and shakes his head.

“like— like what?” you feign innocence. pulling as he’s pushing.

he takes a step closer you didn’t know was possible, and you can feel the ghost of his weight against yours.

he seems to consider his next words. “do you know how distracting it is to have to watch you blink at me like that whenever i speak, like i’m some kind’a god? watch you fein for my attention, knowing i’d be the bad guy if i gave it to you how i want to?”

you’re too stunned to speak. from where you stand, any sudden movements and he might back away, might talk himself out of whatever it is that the two of you are building up to.

“you like it, don’t you? teasing me until i snap. i bet…” he sucks in a breath, and you hold yours in anticipation. the hand of the arm you’re holding tentatively comes to rest on your hip. “if i were to reach my hand down you’d be soaked through these tiny shorts.”

you gulp down all the saliva that has collected in your throat. your heart is thumping so hard you feel like he can hear it as you take it upon yourself. guiding his hand where you want it the most, where you’ve dreamt of it several times. his fingers slide against your clothed lips, and sure enough, you can feel the dampness accumulating.

“fuck.” he breathes out. his resolve seemed to crumble, head dipping as his free hand goes to pin you against the wall. “get this wet whenever i talk to you? hm?”

you nod quickly. might as well not hold anything back, now that you’re finally in the position you’ve been craving since you laid eyes on him.

“cmon, what’s got you all quiet now, honey? i thought you could handle it?” his fingers have gone greedy, attempting to circle your clit through your clothing. the friction feels like heaven, and you can’t stop yourself from bucking into his hand. “i thought you wanted to prove it to me?”

“fuck, yeah. i want to.” all you can seem to do is nod, desperate with it. your eyes dart to the tent in his jeans. it looks so hefty, thick and bulging. you’ve never wanted to see anything more in your life. “i want to make it up to you, rick. earn… earn back my spot here. just tell me what to do.”

“yeah?” he dips his head lower to force eye contact with you again. you take your hand and gingerly glide your fingers along the outline of him pressed against his jeans, bottom lip catching between your teeth. he doesn’t move, keen on letting you feel for yourself. “well… i‘m not sure if you can take it.”

the faux sympathy in his voice almost makes you whimper. “i can, i promise. please.”

he reached down to undo his gun holster and it’s all you need to hear to drop to your knees, forcing back a wince at the impact from the cold floor. he leaves it to you to unzip his pants.

“look at me.” he orders, the authority in his tone gives you no choice but to oblige instantly. he’s larger than life above you, and somehow a much hotter view from below. it spurs you on, makes you more eager to free his cock from its confines.

you pull his pants down just enough to watch it spring out. nothing could’ve prepared you for it; long and thick and meaty, already leaking from the swollen, red tip. the sight makes you audibly whine, much to rick’s amusement.

“never seen a cock before, sweetheart?”

“never this big.” you admit, squirming to get some friction on your cunt. that draws a noise out of him, and you watch his cock twitch with it.

you grasp it hesitantly, looking up at him to check for his reaction. it’s been a long time since you’ve done any of this, and it’s not like you had much experience in the first place. you don’t want to disappoint him.

under the weight of his gaze, you reach out to place a kiss to his tip, letting his precum ooze onto your lips. his hips buck forward slightly into your mouth.

“christ, aren’t you pretty like this?” he sighs.

you feel yourself blush, kitten licking his tip to hide your smile as you gaze up at him. his eyes are lidded, his patience showing on his face. finally, you wrap your lips around his spongy head, suckling gently.

“alright, none of that. you don’t get to tease anymore.” he soothes your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using it as leverage to begin moving your head at the pace he wants. he stuffs your throat all too quickly, your gags and moans muffled by the girth of him filling your mouth. it’s too much and not enough at once, and for the second time today you feel yourself about to cry. “just fuckin’ take it.”

it’s messy and suffocating, but you can’t think of any place you’d rather be than on your knees for him, letting him use your mouth to get off.

“your throat — feels so perfect, baby. about time i put this pretty mouth to good use, huh?” he chuckles breathlessly. you grasp his strong thighs for purchase, willing him to slow down. “i should’ve known this is what it would take to get you to listen. you just needed your fill, didn’t you?”

you nod as best as you can, eyes wide up at him. merciful, he pulls you off to let you breathe, watching a line of spit follow your lips. his dick is covered in it, glistening and raw. you splutter, and somewhere down the line the tears you felt had started flowing freely down your cheeks.

“rick,” your voice cracks pitifully. “it hurts.”

“i know, but you can take it, remember? you’re a big girl.” he places a hand sweetly on your jaw, rubbing his tip against your spit-soaked lips. “gotta be good at something if you want to stay here.”

the throbbing of your knees is overpowered by the ache in your cunt. you can’t believe the predicament you’ve found yourself in.

“you don’t have to think anymore, sweetheart. not good at that today anyway, hm? just relax your jaw and let me in.” he coaxes, pushing past your lips. you do as he says, letting your jaw go lax and his lips stretch into a mean grin. “there you go.”

all it takes is a few more thrusts of his hips. the sight of you with tears streaming down your face, squirming all over your heel for friction on your clit. the feeling of your warm throat constricting around him. he pulls out abruptly, and you watch intently as he rapidly fists his cock.

“here it comes, baby.”

he’s aiming for your face, but you stick your tongue out, desperate to take catch some of his seed on your tongue. his orgasm is ripped out of him, shooting off thick ropes that never seem to end.

you swallow it happily, yet somehow your smile is still bashful afterward.

he’s panting, shaking his head. “what am i going to do with you?”

[hiiikiko]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 [deadpool x spidey!ellie]

caught in your web m.list | tlou m.list

“You gotta trust me, Sheriff, I don’t know her at all!” Spidey yelled from behind the bars of the jail cell, her hands tightening around the bars.

A dramatic gasp echoed from behind her, “How dare you say that?! Throwing away all those late night rendezvous and nights full of passion and sloppy sex?!”

Ellie groaned and trapped the masked vigilantes collar, “Shut it, you’re only making this worse.”

“Ooh, I like it when you’re rough with me,” she giggled and wrapped her hands around Ellie’s arm.

Ellie knew there was no winning when it came to her… ‘Deadpool,’ ugh, what a stupid name. This chick was the absolute worse, the way she was obsessed with Ellie gave her the chills… not to mention how this chick knew EVERYTHING about her?? Even her name?? On top of all that, she was annoying as hell and a total poser! Like, come on! She obviously ripped off Ellie’s costume, right?!

“Sheriff, please, she’s the bad guy, not me,” Ellie groaned and slumped against the wall.

“Sorry, Spidey, but I don’t see a reason why a ‘hero’ should hide behind a mask like some damn criminal,” he chortled and took a sip of his coffee, exiting the room.

“This is all your fault,” Ellie mumbled and leaned her head against the wall.

“How did it all come down to this is what you’re thinking right, dear reader?” Deadpool turned to the wall.

“What the fuck,” Ellie quirked her brow and turned to see who the hell this freakazoid was talking to…. she was talking to no one.

“Well, it all started five hours ago when I met, Spidey, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the keeper of my heart, my snuggle bunny, my baby kitten, my.. well, you get the gist. I was lucky enough to run into her at the police shootout, she was tackling some lizard man and I was passing by when I saw the glimmer of red… I quickly helped her and may have accidentally shot a few officers… but, who cares about that right? Anyway, we made our daring escape and to this alley where I found out she’s a girl?? Like, whaaaaaaat?? I found out because I felt boobs when I tackled her, although… they’re kinda small..”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, so I dragged her along to this amusement park where she proposed on top of the ferris wheel—.”

“I was trying to tie my shoe.”

“We shared a romantic dinner at the pier—.”

“You stole a slice of pizza from a old lady.”

“She won me a teddy bear—.”

“I was trying to escape through a booth and the bear wouldn’t come off my hand because of these stupid webs.”

“It was the most romantic night of my entire life,” she sighed dreamily, “but then just as I was about to kiss her, this dumbass runs towards a police officer and gets us both arrested, me for breaking a few laws here and there and her for being the best person ever?? Stupid, right?”

“Uh, no, you’re an actual murderer.”

“I’m a changed person now, honey,” Deadpool quickly turned to Ellie and nodded, making a heart symbol with her hands.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t take our masks,” Ellie groaned and flipped her off.

“Ooh what would’ve happened? Would you have put me in my place? Handcuffed me? Maybe spanked me?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned as red as her mask, “Shut up! J-Just find me a way outta here,” she grumbled and paced around the cell, looking for anything to get them outta there.

“Oh, is that what you’ve been waiting for? Why didn’t you say something, I stole that pig’s keys two hours ago,” she dangled the keys in front of her, Ellie couldn’t see her face but could feel the smirk radiating through the leather of her mask.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled and unlocked the door.

“You can’t say that in bed,” there she goes again, Ellie rolled her eyes and pushed the door open.

“Here’s the plan, we—.”

BAM!!

“What the fuck!” Ellie yelled as Deadpool kicked the door down and quickly knocked the guard out, reaching behind the counter to grab her guns and katanas, “A warning next time, will you?!”

“Ohh, so there will be a next time then,” she giggled and tied her gun holster around her waist, “Can’t wait.”

Ellie shook her head and made her way for the exit, “I sure can,” she muttered as she exited the building and swiftly put as much distance between her and that deranged woman.

Upon returning back to her apartment, Ellie climbed through the window and flopped onto her bed, rummaging through her backpack for her phone when a piece of paper fell out… it read: ‘Spidey x Deadpool xoxo’ and had a picture that looks like it could’ve been drawn by a toddler of her and Deadpool making out… and not to mention the 136 page handwritten smut filled fan fiction attached to it..

“Gross,” she grimaced and threw it into the paper bin.

That was when Ellie decided to never, ever get involved with Deadpool again..

[a/n:] I FINALLY WROTE IT YAYYYYYYYYY, kinda short but I wanted to write something today :3

[atangledfate]

Lanolin was rather focused on trying to get a signal to call back to the command center when she was approached from behind. She didn't really acknowledge them as she had far bigger issues to deal with. Like dealing with this gun incursion, and finding Jewel. She thought if she called her maybe she could reach her phone? Though she guessed Clutch took her phone away. She just needed to know if she was ok but, she also couldn't waste anymore time and had to get back to the Command Center. Yet Twist's voice finally got her attention and she turned around to face him directly.

" Yes, I'm Acting Director of Restoration. With so many people off base... i was put in command. "

she explained without saying to much more then that.

" I'll be honest... I don't right trust GUN right now further then i can throw the lot of them. But... If you can get these people to safety, or even some more of our staff allowed in. I'd be grateful... tell me what you need "

=============================================

Jewel was still quite dazed from her injury, and her carapace was cracked on her head slightly from the impact to it. She was shocked to see the two ruffin's but then she recalled she did come here to let them out. She recalled Clutch saying they'd been caught and were just expendable and thus he had no intention of saving them. But then the cave in, her head--- had Charm been there? oh chaos where was he!

She didn't have time to think about it as the Skunks dove for her and she tried to fly away but, between her throbbing head and blurred vision she didn't get very far. With one of the boys grabbing her leg and dragging her down! She was held fast, but shockingly didn't fight back. She was tired, hurting, and her head was spinning. The less she moved the better she felt and where did she even have to go? she just went limp in there arms and looked rather dejected and defeated.

But there was always more then one way to win a battle

" ... you two haven't thought this through have you? "

She said in a soft tone as speaking caused her head to throb more

" ... Or rather i doubt you know the situation. How about... you set me down so my head stops spinning and--- we just talk this out? i won't run i promise... both because i can't do to my injury, and because isn't anywhere to go... plus i'm no fighter, so you have nothing to worry about... "

"Alright, after I go talk to the commander I'll see where I can help if she declines my offer to at least get civilians moved to a hospital." Twist figured he'd talk to the commander before going off and seeing what he could do. The lemur making his way over, though raised a brow seeing the tenrec dash off. Hopefully she had more respect for the law than that Sonic character.

Twist then walked up to Lanolin. "Excuse me, I was told you were a commander. The names Twist, I'm Tangles father. Noticed your medical staff is a bit understaffed. I used to work for G.U.N and still got some contacts. If ya want I can make a few calls, at least get all the civilians green lit to be taken out of the base and to a hospital."

===========================================================

Rough and Tumble reacted on the instincts there as both their guts told them something was about to go down, and good thing too as they managed to prevent Jewel from being squished under a ton of rubble and metal. That said when she finally came too the two skunk brothers were in the middle of finishing a tunnel in the floor, only stopping when they heard the beetle speak. Then there was a pause for a moment.

"Grab her!" Rough would suddenly shout when prompted both him and Tumble to make a grab for Jewel. Despite the blue skunk being the faster of the two the larger skunk moved surprisingly fast for someone of his size. Seemed like their plan was to sneak out without getting noticed, though clearly that was out the window so the next best plan was a hostage.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday:

Giving Sig gray hairs for fun and profit (sorry, Sig, it's for a good cause)

Going with the winner of the poll here: "Damas Commits to the Bit too hard and Sig is Going To Slap Him"

Premise: Sig went on all of two missions with the Demolition Duo and decided "dibs, my rookies now, no take-backs".

"No leads on Mar yet."

Sig slouched in the corner booth, eyeing the empty bar as he spoke quietly into his talk-box. "Been trying to work out why Jak was able to talk to that Oracle in the slums. Only thing I know for sure is that it's teaching him to control all the dark eco Praxis forced into his bloodstream."

"His bloodstream?!"*

Damas sounded appalled.

"Eco outside of the core organ is some of the worst pain a hu'men can experience shy of a gut-shot! When did that happen?"

Sig clenched his teeth hard.

"Over the last two years. Snatched the kid off the street and put him through that for two years trying to make a super-soldier while Jak fought him every step of the way."

"I wish I could say that didn't sound like a logical progression of his depravity," Damas hissed on the other end of the line. "That your recruit managed to walk away from that -- let alone resist for two years -- is impressive."

There was a thoughtful note in the king's voice. He was considering something. Now was as good a time as any to try to catch him in an agreeable mood. Sig braced himself.

"...I have a request. I know you don't want to get involved in the civil war beyond runnin' guns, but-"

"Spit it out, Sig."

Sig rubbed the skin under his prosthetic eye and groaned.

"I'm...scared for Jak, man. Every time I see him, he's weaker. Kid’s about to drop over the edge of exhaustion and he keeps trudging on because he says "they" told him to. And I'm pretty sure he's talkin' about the Underground. Now, I know it's off agenda, but- I wanna follow him back. Find out whose trying to work him to death and straighten em out."

He could barely see the shrug on the monitor as Damas answered.

"Why're you asking me? He's your kid."

Something warm fluttered in Sig’s stomach and he grinned despite himself. "Yeah. I...guess he kinda is at this point, isn't he?"

The line was quiet for a few seconds. Time enough for sounds to begin emanating from the street. Then,

"When you find Mar-"

When. Not if. As if his success wasn't even in question.

"When you bring him home, bring Jak, too. I want to meet this kid in person."

"You think I'd let him and Daxter stay here?" Sig scoffed.

Just then, the door swung open, bringing with it the ottsel's familiar voice.

"I'm tellin' you, sweetheart, it's all about the pine-pears. Slice em, grill em, put em on the steak. I guarantee even Hoverboy will love it."

Tess walked in with the boys -- Sig didn't blame them for walking together. This wasn't the nicest neighborhood even without the KG -- and she giggled.

"Daxxie, I've never even had pine-pear. How am I supposed to convince Krew to put something on the menu if we can't get any?"

Jak looked worse than before. The circles beneath his eyes were deep and purple, and he looked dehydrated. Daxter perked up from his shoulders to glance in Sig’s direction.

Crap. He loved the boys, but they weren't cleared to know about Spargus yet.

"Hey, shift's gonna be starting soon, hon. Imma have to call you back."

"I beg your pardon?!" Damas sputtered.

After a beat, in which he must've heard the other voices, he sounded calmer. "Ah. You have company. Carry on."

"Yeah yeah yeah. No, I'll remember. Don't worry about it," Sig said quickly, and a little louder than necessary. "Milk, eggs, paper towels. You need me to grab anything else when I clock out?"

Jak stopped next to his table and cocked his head with a soft frown.

"Who you talkin' to?" he asked.

With a sardonic lilt, Damas’s voice grated in his ear.

"Oh, is that my "stepson"? Yeesh, he sounds rough. Tell him to take a nap."

"Tell him yourself!"

"Sure. Watch your ears."

And before he had time to brace himself, Sig had his ears ringing as Damas raised his voice and loudly called,

"Hey kid! Be good for your old man today. Take a nap when he tells you to this time."

"What the-?" Jak squinted at the talk-box.

Sig flushed scarlet from the tip of his ears to his neck when he heard the usually stoic king burst into uncontrolled cackling.

"I'm gonna round up the kids, and then I'm gonna smack you when I get home" he whispered harshly into the line.

"You wouldn't!" Damas snickered, just before ending the call, "Think of the children!"

"I am going to get him for this," Sig muttered as Jak’s face twisted in confusion.

"Who the heck is that?"

"A menace, that's who," Sig growled. "Ignore him."

Unfortunately, Jak did not.

The more time he and Daxter spent with Sig, recovering from missions under the guise of "Wastelander training", the more comfortable he became with Sig having more or less unceremoniously adopted them. And the more comfortable with Sig he got, the more accustomed he became to encrypted calls from Spargus. The ones Sig wouldn't tell him about yet.

Damas’s terrible habit of taking a Situation and running with it came back to bite them both when a message came while Sig was running perimeter check. And Jak answered the comm.

"You...are not supposed to be on this line."

To his credit, Damas kept reasonably calm.

"Where's your dad, rookie?"

"Sig's clearing the building," Jak answered with a shrug.

"I'd go grab him, but apparently broken toes disqualify you from pest control."

"Eco would fix that quickly enough."

"That's what I said!" Jak gestured vaguely towards the door. "It's not even the worst injury I've gotten in a base!"

Daxter paused on his way past Jak to the kitchen.

"That's true," he called over, "I think catching the live scatter rounds with your bare hands still holds the title on that one, pal."

"Eh." Jak made an entirely too casual shrug.

"Now, don't tell me you were juggling ammunition," Damas said, with a bit of mild reproof under the dry tone.

"The kid tried to channel em," Jak defended himself, "Slight burns or crabby toddler with super strength? Definitely could have been worse. Sig freaked out over that one, too."

Damas’s face went blank very abruptly.

"What toddler."

The door opened, and Jak glanced over.

"Oh, hey Sig. Your "it's complicated" is on the comm."

Sig made a very amusing impression of a fish out of water. He rushed across the room and snatched the talk-box.

"You don't have clearance for my comm, cherry! You know that!"

"What?" Jak asked indignantly, even as Sig propelled him out of the room.

"It's just that stepdad guy! What's the big deal?"

Sig glared at the box. "You did this."

Damas barely noticed. "He can stay, I need to clear something up with him."

If looks could kill, Damas would have been shaking hands with his ancestors at that moment.

"Out. Go run your weapons drills." Sig waved the boys away.

"Well so much for being consistent with him," Damas needled.

Another discreetly murderous glance was aimed at the camera lens.

"Are you serious right now."

"Jak may have information about Mar's location, Sig. I'm dead serious."

Sig snapped back to look at Jak so quickly that Jak was afraid he was going to get whiplash.

Jak blinked.

"Uh...we're not talking about the dead city founder guy, are we? Because I don't know where he is, but the old lady is making me look, so I can probably get you intel later."

*"Toddler,"* Damas corrected tightly, "Green hair, wearing an amulet of Mar. Powerful but uncontrolled channeling potential. Would be about four now."

Jak relaxed. "Oh, him! Yeah, I dropped him off with Vin at the power station because the Shadow was letting him play in the street again."

The combined stares of his semi-legal guardian and the man on the tiny screen left him fidgeting uncomfortably.

"....what?"

[pinazee]

Lassie did a bad bad thing

This is one of my favorite intros to the show! Theres such a great energy in the air right out of the gate that I’m instantly locked in. The storm, the lights flickering, the running background characters- it all has me hooked. Its nice to see the head detective being good at his job. It actually helps establish Shawn as a better detective too. If shawn continually did laps around the cops, then it diminishes his wins by comparison. Also, its nice to see lassie on his game in general. Sometimes we need a reminder why he made head detective in the first place. His character has the most subtle yet brilliant transformation on the show which i’ll go into later down the line.

Henry said nearly the exact same thing in the flash back of the 70’s ep. Lassie and henry have a lot in common so it’s interesting that when they get paired up they don’t get along. Henry is too overbearing for lassie to go fishing, and here, lassie loves being a cop too much for henry (though thats possibly the depression talking). Could be they are seeing parts of themselves they don’t like in each other, could just be a personality thing.

It’s also telling on lassies character that everyone is quick to believe he shot that guy (and gus probably still does like 15% haha). I think thats definitely a part of why hes so depressed in this ep. Lets face it, if Juliet had been in his place, not one person would have thought she did it (unless the plot asked for it i guess).

This is a slight tangent, but what do you mean “hes letting her drive” lassie?? Does drimmer outrank her somehow because thats the only possible excuse for that line 🤔

Damn this hit was good and a nice surprise! Though, what was drimmer thinking?? Was he taking the drugs the cinco reyes were selling? Like this a public area sir, the peanut vendor is right off screen! Plus he knows people are waiting for him in the office like 13 feet away???

And this is such a dumb criticism, so just know that I’m aware of that, but I’m so distracted in this ep by how much i hate this chocolate mint striped polo shirt

And i hate to do this, but it bothered me then and it bothers me now… the blocking of this scene was kind of clunky. Like, have lassie rotating around slowly to get to his hidden gun while drimmer/ shawn did the wrap up instead of having our bad guy tell him “hey stop that!” Like he was chastising a toddler. It kind of fumbled the pacing/ tension IMO.

But damn lassie is cool here

Lastly, THE JACKAL SWITCH! HE HIT THE JACKAL SWITCH!!! I love anytime the script is flipped and shawn is mildly irritated by some bit gus is doing. Bffs, love them.

P.S this is one of favorites puns they’ve done, if that tells you anything about my style of humor

[nightlyrequiem]

miss requiem please please with a cherry on top make detective reader part 2?!?!???!?

Of course of course! For some reason this was so hard for me to write??? I don't know if I like how it turned out. Alikeness 1 and 2 will probably be getting a rewrite in the future...

First Part

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Gun Violence, Murder, Mild Violence

Alikeness II

"You and I are alike." 

Valeria's words leave you uneasy and disturbed. You should turn her in. You know her identity. But for some reason you just can't bring yourself to make it common knowledge. You tell yourself it's because she wouldn't face proper punishment through the legal system. Money talks.

Yes. That is why you can't tell anyone. You're immune to corruption. An archangel sent to cleanse this Earth of evil. The blood of the tainted only purifies you. Your only interaction with Valeria shook you. You stayed away. Only for the time being. Focusing your efforts on others that need exterminating. Bad people you can't prove are bad in the eyes of the law, but you know. You always know. It's a sixth sense. 

You stare down at the plastic wrapped body of a corrupt politician. Valeria's words ringing in your ears as you fill his grave with dirt. He was taking bribes from the cartel. He was actively trying to take away the rights of other people because of his greed and hatred. The plastic around his mouth slowly rises and falls. You had to do this.

You've been given a new case at work. They're looking for the person responsible for the murders of previous cases. They're looking for you. You're forced to stay silent while your collogues unknowingly call you all kinds of names. You're disheartened to hear that the general public thinks of you as a monster. You make them afraid.

You stay in late, acting as though you're looking into the murders of the previous cases when really, you're plotting your next move on Valeria. It's not safe at home anymore. You're too paranoid about her bugging your house. Even your office is starting to feel unsafe. During the day you eye your coworkers with distrust. One of them could very likely be working with Valeria.

You keep your head pressed to the wall. Eyes shut tightly so you can think.

'You and I are alike.'

Begrudgingly, you accept that the statement is true to an extent. Two sides of the same coin but where you are capable of doing bad things for good, she does bad things for selfish gain. You slowly move away from the wall. You can use that to your advantage. Think like Valeria to kill Valeria.

You're shoved to the ground with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head. Valeria looks down at you with a blank expression.

"You were right." You say, looking up at her. The low lighting is giving you a headache.

"About?" Valeria raises a brow.

"Me. Us." You reply. "I'm too good for what I do and I am not appreciated. Why should I expend my energy fighting for people who think I'm a monster?"

Valeria stares you contemplatively. A glint in her eyes.

"Yes, why should you?" She hums. Valeria slowly walks towards you and crouches down to eye level.

"You told me to find you when I was ready to accept that." You say. Disturbed at the small part of you that's tempted to believe it.

You didn't get to work with her at first. Valeria is a distrustful person and for two weeks she kept you locked in a cage. Only after she began to let her guard down did she let you out. You started work guarding shipments. Feeling disgusted at how you were helping her. But you took your job seriously, even if you didn't agree with the tasks you were given, you still took it seriously. Telling yourself it's a necessary evil.

You pace the dock. Watching the dock workers sign off on the cargo and taking the bribe to keep quiet about it. A shot rings out and the worker falls to his knees. You and your companions dive for cover. Alarmed by the sudden and unexpected bullets flying through the air. Your only thought is to protect the cargo. Keep the cargo safe. Leaping up you make a run for the ship. Something wizzes past your face and slices your cheek. Warm blood trickles from the cut. Bullets rain behind you as you climb aboard. 

You swiftly run to the cargo hold. Pulling out your gun you sit silently. Waiting. Careful footsteps sound in the hall. Heavy combat boots against the floor. Your grip on your gun tightens. A man decked out in riot gear enters, rifle slowly panning over the room. You crouch low, hiding behind a large barrel.

You move out of sight. Keeping to the shadows. The man nudges the lid of another barrel, shining his light inside. Is he seeing alcohol or bags of cocaine? You sneak up behind you and cock your gun. The noise alerts the man, and he promptly swivels to face you, rifle pointed at your chest. He stiffens and says your name. You recognize his voice. You worked with him before. Familiarity means nothing to you. He lowers his weapon, but you keep yours pointed at him.

"Are you okay?" He asks. "You've been missing for weeks, we thought the cartel got you."

"It did." You say. Feeling a little regretful.

"... I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" He says softly, like he's trying to soothe a child.

You back up.

"One of us will be getting out of here, yes, but it won't be you." You reply.

"What are you talking about?" He says, his voice hardening. "Whatever they have over you, if you're scared, it doesn't matter, we can get you into a witness protection program."

You frown. "I can't let you leave because you will jeopardize the cartel and this shipment." You say. Something unpleasant crawls down your spine at the realization that you mean those words.

The man tightens his grip on his gun.

"You're here... willingly?" He asks hesitantly, sounding disappointed.

You remain stony faced. "I am." You nod.

He raises his gun, aiming for your chest. "Then I'm going to have to ask you to put your gun down and put your hands behind your head."

You slowly lower your gun and raise your hands, staring straight as him as you do so.

He circles around you and comes up from behind. You can hear his laboured breathing behind his mask. His gloved hand brushes your wrist and you swivel, grabbing his gun. He pulls the trigger, the shot sounding too loud in the cramped cargo hold. You hiss and wrench it away, stumbling. The force pushes him down and before he can stand and make himself an even bigger threat you fire into his chest blindly. Emptying the clip.

You realize that you're shaking. Your shoulders drop as you stare at what you've done. Shame and rationalization warring in your head. Hurried footsteps head towards the cargo hold and you hope it's not more of them. They stop and you feel the presence of people. You don't bother turning because whatever will happen, will happen.

"You protected the shipment." Valeria says. Sounding a little surprised. You were supposed to kill her. That was the whole point of seeking her out to join her cartel. Instead, you shot one of your own.

"That's what I'm supposed to do." You murmur. He isn't moving anymore. Are his eyes open or closed behind the helmet?

Valeria mutters something to the people beside her and they leave. She walks forward and puts her hands on your shoulders. Her face next to yours.

"I'm proud of you." She says. "Not everyone is capable of doing the right thing."

Her words comfort you somewhat. You wish it were her lying there instead. "hm."

"Your foot is bleeding." she tells you, grabbing you by the arm to lead you out of that room. "I'll patch that up for you."

[a-concert-just-for-me]

no yeah I’m getting def getting reassessed for adhd because this ain’t it, chief

[keeps-ache]

goin to the library, library time woohoo !!

[trans-leek-cookie]

post. Post-posting clarity where you're like "wtf was I talking about". But also post-posting confusion where you're also like "wtf was I talking about" but it's less about your mental state While Posting and more about "okay. I've written many words. I remember. Approximately 20% of them. What the fuck are the rest of these?"

[finneander]

when you're trying to fix your sleep schedule and go to sleep at normal times especially when you've got a (comparatively) early train to take in a couple days before you usually wake up but you need to stay up late because you just HAVE to draw an idea you just got

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[ot3]

HOT OR NOT? POKEMON

There are a lot of pokemon out there. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad.

the world of pokemon is a beautiful one filled with many "types" of pokemon. some pokemon are steel. some pokemon are bugs. some of them are even normal. lately i have found myself thinking, which pokemon is the most steel? which pokemon is the most bugs? which pokemon is normal? and today i am proud to say i have answered these questions and more.

It can be hard to decide, since there are so many of them, but luckily I'm here to make that decision for you. i have definitively chosen the most representative (most) least representative (least) personal favorite (best) and least favorite (worst) design of every pokemon type. and i will now explain it to you in detail

now keep in mind we are ONLY talking about design here. lore is not coming into play whatsoever. if you want to explain to me why xyz pokemon is actually the most/least/best whatevertype pokemon because it's based on this or that: i don't care. that's not why we're here. we're judging books by their covers today

Normal Type

Most - Herdier: This is just a regular ass dog, which may be considered one of the normalest things on the planet. It doesn't get much more normal than this, folks.

Least - Arceus: If i saw this thing it would be one of the least normal days of my life.

Best - Skitty: This is just a perfect design, there isn't anything bad you could possibly say about it and if you tried I'd hit you. Look at that face. ^_^

Worst - Castform (Normal): It looks like either a pair of balls or casper with a fat rack and in either case it's just kind of unappealing to look at.

Grass Type

Most - Shaymin (Land Forme): Although 'grass' a type represents all plant life, I am choosing to interpret it literally here. Shaymin is the grassiest of all grass pokemon, and although this is not part of the criteria, it is also very cute so lets all take a moment to appreciate that

Least - Kartana: this is an origami swordsman bug thing which to me isn't really Grass at all. I do love the design but it's not very grassy. yeah paper comes from plants but gun to my head i would have not guessed grass type for this pokemon in top 3, maybe not even top 5.

Best - Wo-Chien: I just think this guy represents a ton of pokemon design philosophy at its best. It has a very strong sense of color, good use of shape, is just a tiny bit strange, and most importantly is a kind of Creature i would like to hang out with

Worst - Calyrex: The more realistically proportioned hare head with the strange body does NOT work for me. I'm not mad about the massive berry on top at all but why the perfectly round torso? Why the stubby little arms? Why the noodle legs with the thigh high boots? I think you could fix this one pretty easily ultimately but it really needs fixin

Water Type

Most - Wailord: Although there is no actual water in wailord's design, the mere presence of a whale implies the necessity for an amount of water that is almost as catastrophically overwhelming in its absence as its presence.

Least - Palkia: Other than looking like an anthropomorphized speedboat palkia is not particularly aquatic in its nature

Best - Lapras: There's a lot of great water pokemon designs but i think lapras is firing on all cylinders. Really a classic pokemon design.

Worst - Quaquaval: There are a lot of pokemon that are uncomfortably anthropomorphic and there have been since gen 1. It's not something I'm against in concept at all and it's produced some of my favorite pokemon designs of all time. But unfortunately when it flops it flops hard. Seriously, what are these proportions? Perfectly fine idea for a pokemon just executed with shocking inelegance.

Fire Type

Most - Gigantamax Cinderace: This is simply the most amount of fire you're getting in a fire pokemon. Biggest bang for your buck

Least - Blacephalon: Another ultra beast design that is, as a design, excellent, but i would not be able to guess the typing on the first try if you put a gun to my head

Best - Chandelure: What if a haunted chandelier was your friend. Enough said. This thing just rules

Worst - Cinderace: Everything I said about quaquaval is equally true here.

Fighting Type

Most - Machamp: He's a wrestler with four arms this is as fighting as fighting gets

Least - Meditite: This is a small child in an open, peaceful stance. I sense no violence here. If he were to fight, he would have been provoked.

Best - Mienshao: effortlessly elegant design that conveys the aesthetics of martial arts and combines it with the simplified animal anatomy and strong shape language that represents pokemon at it's best

Worst - Gurdurr: This entire line is profoundly uncomfortable to me but the prominent near-bursting veins and inexplicable hourglass figure are at their worst here.

Flying Type

Most - Altaria: This is a bird made out of clouds, which is the most flyingest a thing could be.

Least - Shaymin (Sky Forme): This dude doesnt look like its feet are getting off the ground anytime soon if i'm being quite honest

Best - Sigilyph: Great example of what flying type can look out when you branch away from simple birds. The stranger and less organic feeling pokemon are collectively some of my favorite and i think sigilyph is one of the more effective ones.

Worst - Enamorus: 😬

Electric Type

Most - Xurkitree: The Exposed Copper Wiring Pokemon. Great stuff. Also a banger design on top of being the most. i love the ultra beasts

Least - Alolan Geodude: I understand the eyebrows and hair are supposed to be gatherings of lead sand but its still not giving electrivity. it just looks like a rock, one of the least electric things on the planet

Best - Rotom (All Forms): I wanted to put every rotom here but there was no way to arrange that easily. Just picture all the other rotoms here too. Rotom is awesome it's normal design is just cute and fun and then all of the other appliances are just a great concept.

Worst - Elektrike: Not unforgivably bad or anything but just kind of a design that doesn't convey a lot of information or have any appeal to it. Completely forgettable.

Poison Type

Most - Galarian Weezing: This guy is the most poisonous possible poison you could have. This guys hobby is global warming. This guy is dumping carcinogens into the river. And not just incidentally. He's ideologically motivated AND gets pleasure from it.

Least - Oddish: Not only do I not believe eating an oddish would poison me, i think oddish is healthy. I think it's good for you.

Best - Ivysaur: It's impossible to truly extract the nostalgia from my feelings towards the gen 1 pokemon designs but I think we can all agree. Ivysaur looks great

Worst - Eternatus: Does not even look like it belongs in the same franchise as anything else on this list so far. And on top of that, it looks stupid. 0/10. I do like the version of it that's an evil hand though.

Psychic Type

Most - Mega Alakazam: This dude looks like he should be airbrushed on a black velvet tapestry. I can't imagine anything more psychic than that.

Least - Exeggcute: Picking a least psychic pokemon was a hard one, because although we have some specific idea of what a psychic is, it's hard to say what one isn't. Ultimately, I don't think a handful of cracked eggs feels very psychic to me. I'm not sure what they feel like to me to be honest.

Best - Deoxys: Take a note, people, this is how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Worst - Necrozma: Take a note, people, this is not how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Ground Type

Most - Dugtrio: Dugtrios presence in the area is synonymous with the ground. in the same way that wailord's existence comes with the implicit presence of huge amounts of water, dugtrio's existence comes with the explicity presence of The Ground, because it's part of the design. We will never know dugtrio in its entirety, we will only see as much of it as the ground lets us.

Least - Whiscash: That's a fish, it shouldn't be on the ground.

Best - Trapinch and Claydol: I really really wanted to avoid ties here but please indulge me just this one. These are two creatures that are perfectly made but each in its own distinct way.

Worst - Zygarde (Complete Forme): Overdesigned as fuckkkkkk

Ice Type

Most - Avalugg: This guy's ice.

Least AND Worst - Jynx: Not only is Jynx not particularly icy, changing the skintone was really not enough to redeem this design.

Best - Glaceon: There aren't any bad eveelutions. That said, glaceon isn't my favorite. However in the contect of ice pokemon I think it does a great job of using shape language and colors that feel icy without needing to actually resort to just chucking ice onto it. A lot of ice pokemon are either a little bit too on the nose or just outside of my taste bracket

Bug Type

Most - Caterpie: Very bug.

Least - Pineco: this is a pinecone with eyes, which is different from a bug.

Best - Leavanny: Look at that winning smile :)

Worst - Buzzwole: TOO SWOLE!!!!

Rock Type

Most - Onix: You may think it would have been geodude, who is just a rock with arms, but onix is actually just a rock with a face which is then attached to SEVERAL MORE ROCKS. That's as rock as it gets.

Least - Sudowoodo: You can't pull the wool over my eyes. That's a tree.

Best - Lunatone: What if the moon was kind of creepy and also your pet.

Worst - Terrakion: Think this motherfcukers just ugly

Dragon Type

Most - Mega Charizard X: We all know Charizard is a dragon but that's only sometimes true. When it's true, it's very true.

Least - Tatsugiri (All Forms): Why is a piece of sushi a dragon. I do support it don't get me wrong. But I'm not exactly following the throughline

Best - Rayquaza: I think sometimes the legendary pokemon end up in the Too Much category but I think rayquaza pushes riiight up against that edge without going over it.

Worst - Dracovish: Shitting on the mix and match fossilized pokemon feels kind of like low hanging fruit. I honestly think they're kind of fun in concept. But this just looks stupid

Ghost Type

Most - Haunter: Self explanatory

Least - Decidueye: A very fun design but it feels like its got much too life in it to be ghostly.

Best - Polteageist: I'm insanely biased because I love ghosts and have a teapot collection so when i saw they put a ghost in a teapot i was overjoyed and it became my favorite pokemon as a whole instantly.

Worst - Gholdengo: Looks like the mascot for a string cheese brand

Dark Type

Most - Guzzlord: Dark type in japanese is Evil type which certainly has different connotations. In either case, I think whatever it means for a pokemon to be dark or evil is embodied here.

Least - Scraggy: I don't think this guy is particularly sinister at all.

Best - Mega Absol: I'm just so charmed by mega absol because it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing a teen with a deviantart would have drawn. It's like an edgy emo fairy white haired anime boy angel sparkledog. But despite that it still has a lot of aesthetic integrity and manages to only be a bit over the top in a way i think it's suited for.

Worst - Mega Sharpedo: This cluttered design pretty much undoes anything that's successful about sharpedo's standard form

Steel Type

Most - Melmetal: the unrelenting metalness of this guy is not even tanted by any even vaguelt biological components

Least - Wormadam (Trash Cloak): Not a single visibly metallic part on this pokemon

Best - Magearna: A clockwork magical girl... what a great design. i love her. so cute. there's really strong competition in steel type though

Worst - Varoom: Something about this guy looks agonized to be alive. And I feel that agony too. It looks like a motorcycle that was in the process of being transmogrified into a creature but the process was incorrectly terminated halfway through and now it lives a cursed and painful existence.

Fairy Type

Most - Mega Diancie: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and i would listen to it

Least - Galarian Weezing: I also wanted to do no duplicates but once again I will ask you for my forgiveness. Clearly this thing is the least fairy fairy. Not only is it unfairy, I think it tortures fairies. I think it's the villain in a movie where a bunch of children have to rescue a gang of captured fairies who are being used to power a Pollution Factory. I think this things grinds fairies up into dust and uses them to line the rim of its cocktail glass.

Best - Klefki: Klefki is soooo fun. I feel like if klefki was a ghost pokemon it wouldn't hit the same way because the idea of a haunted keyring is fun, sure, but it's notwhere near as good as a Whimsical Enchanted Keyring.

Worst - Zacian: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and im not sure i would listen to it. man the legendary dogs are just kind of a mess aesthetically

Okay that's all of the types. I don't really have a way to end this post. Of course there are a bunch of really good designs and really weird and cluttered ones that I didn't get a chance to talk about but. Idk man I can't rate every pokemon design there's just too many of them. there you have it.

[madegeeky]

BLOOD IT WILL TAKE BLOOD day 17: face mask with spatula/brush thing. (I just realized that I didn't take a pic to show it, but the bumpy end? On the other side actually has a short bristled silicone brush on it.)

I'm so not a face mask person (with one exception) and so I'm going to give this to my sister who loves them. Although the spatula looks like a weird addition, my sister assures me that it's really nice because a lot of these mud masks you have to mix up and this one includes a tool for that which she loves.

[girlygguk]

NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 4 of 6

pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader

genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, spirited extro gf x soft angel bf, jk comes home w oc for the holidays, he’s so soft and shy, until he isn’t oop, i triedd w the context but this rlly is just oc getting the xmas dicking she deserves, kissing, cursing, switchy soft dom jk, giddy subby oc, they try to keep quiet, keyword try, dirty talk, cunnilingus, jk's a munch, condomless p in v sex, oc on pill, creampie, they're literal angels & i would die for them

word count 4.8k

banner by the gorgeously gifted @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

“My mom loves you.”

“You think?” Jungkook’s lips tilt into a soft smile, his hand warm and steady as it glides over your thigh, draped comfortably across his waist. “She’s amazing. I see her in you a lot.”

Your nose scrunches as you smile softly into the curve of his arm, your fingers absently tracing along his chest. When your nails graze over his nipple, you feel it perk up under your touch, and you can’t resist pressing a light kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

“You’re so easy to love, baby,” you murmur, your voice muffled slightly against his arm. But you know he hears you from the way his chest rises and falls a little faster, betraying the quiet effect you always have on him. “Had me whipped from the first time I saw you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows cutely, the same expression he always makes when you say this. He never quite believes it, even now. You can tell he’s picturing that day—how you noticed him tucked into the back of the freshman seminar, seated in a corner with his laptop angled slightly, like a shield in case someone dared to take the empty seat beside him.

That someone had been you.

Coming to Seoul for university had been a big deal—not just for you, but for your family and everyone back home in Namhae-gun who’d cheered you on. You weren’t naturally gifted in academics the way your boyfriend was, but you worked hard, just like he did. You’d taken every extra shift you could at your local little grocer, worked the after-school care program at Sannie’s elementary school, and with some help from your mom and stepdad, you pieced together what your scholarship didn’t cover.

With that, you packed your clothes and favorite trinkets from your childhood bedroom, said goodbye to your family and the friends you’d known your whole life, and set off for the big, bright Seoul city.

It was bittersweet. Namhae-gun had been your whole world, but Seoul was your dream. And now, as you looked at Jungkook beside you, his pretty face soft in the dim light of your room, you realized he was now your new both. Your world and your dream. Your present and your future.

You still talked to your best friends, Lila and Jimin, nearly every night over FaceTime, Jungkook joining most times. He’d been so adorably shy the first time they demanded to meet him, visibly nervous they wouldn’t like him. It still baffled you sometimes, how he could think that way. How he didn’t see himself the way you did.

Because, in your eyes, he was everything. The cutest, dorkiest, sexiest nerd you’d ever met—you’d kill for him. You knew Lila and Jimin would fall for him too. And they did.

Your extroverted best friends even begged him for his socials, which he shyly handed over, his cheeks pink as he spoke out his handles. He almost choked on his own saliva when Lila let out the loudest moan mid-call, suddenly thrusting her iPad at the screen to show his latest post. It was a photo of the two of you at the beach—you, in a little multicolored bikini holding the camera out, and Jungkook with his big, wet chest on full, bare display beside you.

You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement at her thirsting over your handsome boyfriend, cupping the side of his burning face as he ducked his head into your neck. His linked arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you nestled in his lap.

“Angel?” he murmured quietly into your neck. “Why would she say t-that?”

The disappointment—and maybe even slight annoyance—in his pouty tone made you want to slam your laptop shut and take him as far down your throat as you could. Instead, you’d cooed softly, turning your head to kiss his warm cheek and whispering in his ear that she was, in fact, a raging lesbian.

“Oh,” he whispered back, tickling your skin. “Okay.” His pout relaxed, and you felt the softest, relieved little smile on his lips against your neck.

You had bitten back a moan of your own at how much that turned you on, turning to pepper his round cheek with a hundred kisses until his blush faded and the corners of his lips tugged into a cute little bunny grin. You smiled fondly at the memory of Jimin groaning dramatically while Lila yelled at you to go lower.

“Your stepdad asked me to join him for golf tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s soft, nervous voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hum in surprise and beam up at him, fingers brushing lightly along his tummy. “Really? Oh, baby, that’s so great. Are you going to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. His throat bobs as he glances down at you, your cheek now pressed against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist, fingers curling gently into your soft skin. “Would you… would you like to come?”

You coo softly, nodding as your lips brush the curve of his collarbone. “If you want me to, honey,” you murmur, your mouth pressing a little kiss to his pebbled nipple. His chest stutters with a throaty breath, and you grin against his skin. “I’d love to.”

“Always want you to come with me, baby,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as you tilt your head, lips wrapping softly around the bud. Your gaze drifts up lazily to his beautiful face, his eyes already half-lidded. “E-everywhere I go. Wish I could take you.”

“Mmm.” The hum vibrates against his chest as your hand slides up to scratch lightly over his other nipple, your teeth grazing over the one caught between your lips. His hips shift beneath you, his breath catching as his pants pick up. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my love."

Jungkook tries to stifle the whine rising in his throat, but it slips out anyway, soft and desperate, when your teeth scrape just a little harder over his nipple. His fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter.

“Ahh,” he heaves under his breath, his head lolling softly into the pillow. “Baby, we-we can’t.”

You hum, brow arching slightly in amused defiance. “And why is that, honey?” Your lips brush over both of his nipples, one flushed red and swollen from your mouth, the other stiff and sensitive from your nails.

“B-because,” he stammers, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch you tossing the blanket off your waists and shifting to straddle his lap. His breath hitches as your thighs settle around him, your body hovering prettily above his. He swallows hard, his focus slipping as he tries to gather himself. “Your parents, angel. What if they—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, your palms flattening against his chest as you lean in to steal his breath. His exhale trembles through his nose, and he lets out a desperate mewl when he tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips. You pull back just enough to keep him chasing you.

“Their room’s on the other side of the house, my darling,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and sweet. “So is Sannie’s. Nobody’s gonna hear your cute little noises.”

Jungkook flushes a deep pink at that, his pout immediate and utterly adorable. You dissolve into giggles, your nose brushing his as he huffs. He doesn’t correct you, though. He knows better and so do you. You’re always the one who can’t stay quiet during sex, no matter how much he whispers please, baby, they’re gonna hear us against your skin.

The thought makes your heart race. Sometimes you still can’t believe he was a virgin before you. Not with the way he fucks. Sweet and shy as he is, Jeon Jungkook turns into something else entirely when he’s inside you.

Your first time together had been soft and clumsy and perfect. Tucked into the covers of his dorm bed while his roommate Taehyung spent the night at his girlfriend’s place. He’d asked if you were okay a hundred times, his hands shaking against your skin as he moved so carefully, so sweetly. You’d never felt more loved.

But the second time?

Once he stopped asking if you were alright every thirty seconds, once he started trusting you when you told him you fucking loved it and to keep going, he went.

Oh, how he fucking went.

That second night, your own roommate had come back early—earlier than she said she would—and screamed the moment she opened the door. She’d walked in to find your shy, soft-spoken, nerdy boyfriend fucking you raw from behind on your bed, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted you back and forth on his cock, your makeup-smeared face buried in the pillow, your throat raw from begging.

“We’ll be quiet,” you lie softly against his mouth, your lips brushing his as you lean back down, rolling your hips over his stiffening cock. The thin fabric of your Christmas pajama shorts drags over his matching pants, the friction making him shudder beneath you. “Haven’t fucked me since yesterday morning, baby,” you pout, leaning up with a little huff, bouncing brattily in his lap. “You hate me.”

“D-don’t ever say that again, baby,” he husks, his voice so fucking low as you begin to grind your slickening core against him. “Love you more than life itself.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, your tone turning smug, satisfied. You drag yourself along the length of him again, slow and pointed, humming at the way he twitches beneath you. Leaning down, you hover just over his parted lips, so close your breaths mingle. “You love me that much, baby?”

He’s fighting it—you can see it. The way his jaw tightens, his brows knitting. His throat works around a sound he’s determined to swallow. His resolve is wavering. His control crumbling—or crumbled, he doesn't fucking know—as you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you seeping through the fabric between you.

“That mu-much, baby,” he chokes out, his voice strained. His long fingers dig gently into the soft flesh of your waist, guiding you as you move against him, his grip both a plea and a surrender all at once.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smile against his as you grind yourself back and forth with just a bit more pressure. You feel the way his breath hitches, the way his resistance falters. He knows he’s already lost.

And you know it too when his big hands slide under the hem of your little green singlet, patterned with tiny reindeers and snowflakes, gripping your hips firmly before flipping you both over.

Your big eyes blink up at him, maybe a little too giddy, as he hovers above you. He shakes his head softly, his bunny nose twitching, and then leans down to take the kind of kiss he’s been craving all day.

The kind of kiss he’s wanted since dinner, when your parents were fawning over him between bites of food, praising him for everything from his sweet nature to his thoughtful gift for San.

The one he hasn’t had a chance to steal since he was sitting nervously beside you on the living room couch, watching your baby brother open the limited-edition Iron Man figure Jungkook had picked out just for him. Sannie had sprinted up to your boyfriend, his tiny arms wrapping around him, hugging him so tight and calling him the best hyungie he’s ever had.

And, yeah, okay, maybe he cried a little.

It’s the first time all day he’s had you to himself, the first time since yesterday afternoon. The afternoon he’d spent with you in the communal kitchen at your college, baking the Christmas tree-shaped cookies you’d brought home for your family in a big container.

The same cookies he had snuck an extra one to Sannie, even when you told your little brother no more after two. He couldn't help it, folding instantly when the adorable kid tugged on his sleeve with those big, pleading eyes—the ones that reminded him a little too much of you.

Jungkook thought you hadn’t noticed, but of course you did. You’d stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your gentle giant boyfriend snuck two cookies from the container and handed one to San, his lips twitching with a soft laugh when your brother shoved the whole thing into his mouth like Jungkook might change his mind and take it back.

The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tongue pulls him back to the present, and he lets out a breathy groan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you tug his warm, solid weight down into you, relishing in having him pressed so heavily against you.

“Needa be quiet, baby,” he says, his voice low and breathy, maybe even a little whiny as he pulls away reluctantly. “C-can’t have your dad hearing us. I won’t be able to play golf with him tomorrow if I can’t look him in the eye.”

You hum as your lips chase his, dazed and unbothered. “You hate golf,” you murmur absently, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing soft, hot skin. Then your tongue slips past his lips again.

He lets out something between a grunt and a laugh, his resistance melting away as his big tongue laps against yours. You taste the faint trace of toothpaste as you kiss him deeper, chasing every last hint of it, your body tingling as you take his tongue further into your mouth.

It’s no surprise that he’s already fully hard, just like it’s no surprise that you’re already fucking drenched. His stiff cock presses down against your stomach, and your hips buck instinctively at the feeling, a mewly moan spilling from your lips without care.

His hand slides up from your waist to wrap gently around your throat, and your brows furrow in pleased anticipation through closed eyes, silently hoping he’ll squeeze harder. He does, in a way, his fingers pressing softly against the sides of your neck, enough to make your head spin. The kiss slows as he pulls back slightly, leaving you pouty and blinking up at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his soft lips slightly swollen, his big, gorgeous nose marked faintly on the bridge from where his glasses had rested earlier. He looks down at you before speaking, his voice reluctant, heavy with the words he feels he has to say.

“Quiet, please, angel.”

You lick your lips, trying to chase more of his taste. “Okay, cutie,” you say with a sweet smile, nodding softly as you gaze up at him. “I’ll be quiet.”

His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, as if he’s doing the same as you, before he smiles knowingly. “Liar.”

He’s back on your mouth, his fingers still brushing softly over your throat as his lips capture yours again. This time, he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking in a way that’s both soft and firm, pulling wet, breathy pants from you chest. Your ankles tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s not even any fucking space between you, but you're not a quitter, grinding pathetically up into him, hips searching for the angle you need.

And then you find it.

“mmmM,” you whine as his hard, covered cock presses perfectly through your pussy lips.

Jungkook groans low into your mouth at the feeling, his lips and tongue moving with messily with yours. He’s devouring you, the wet, sticky sounds of your kissing filling the room as you grind yourself shamelessly against him. The friction is heavy, perfect as his cock is stiff and hot beneath the thin barrier of his pajama pants. Your hips move instinctively, searching for more, harder, faster, anything to ease the ache between your legs.

His hand tightens around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep your head swimming. His lips break from yours with a slick little pop, leaving your lips humming and eyes hazy as they meet his flushed face. His eyes are wide and wet as his grip on your neck loosens, trailing down to your waist.

“Needa taste it, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked as he slips lower, dragging his big frame down the bed. “Please baby? Need to taste you.”

The words make your head spin, and you breathing out a pleading god yes baby as his hands grip the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one motion. The cool air against your slick heat makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his big tongue licking a fat stripe right up your drippy folds.

“Baby—fuckk,” you breathe, your thighs trembling as his mouth works into you. He’s messy with it, always is, his tongue dipping inside your hole, then dragging back up to swivel around your clit. His big nose presses against you as he eats, throat humming and brows furrowing like they always do when he tastes a really good dish.

He pulls back just enough to breathe out, “S-so yummy, baby. I love it. Love it so fucking much.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking it between his lips and humming dirtily, making your hips jerk up into his face.

“Hahhh,” you whimper, your voice high and dumb as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue flicks even faster. “Shit, Jung- baby, uuh—”

Jungkook moans into your pussy, the sound high-pitched and needy, vibrating against your soppy heat. His jaw drops as he pushes in deeper, taking your whole pussy into his big mouth, completely forgetting the need for either of you to shut the fuck up. You’re dripping everywhere, your slick coating his lips and chin, and he laps it all up like an eager dog, his hands gripping your plushy thighs to keep you spread wide.

He lifts his head just long enough to suck in a breath before gathering a thick pool of spit in his mouth. He leans back down, face burying between your legs, and lets the saliva drool onto your folds before dragging his tongue through the mess, licking and lapping it all back up greedily.

Your body writhes under him, your head sinking back into the pillow as one hand fists tighter in his hair and the other grips the sheets desperately. Your mind reels, fragments of random thoughts flashing through it—the curve of the statue of liberty, the lucky quarter you found on your walk with him in the city, the moment you first kissed. Everything and nothing blurs together and you realize with a hum that your life is flashing right before your fucking eyes.

You’re trembling, vibrating against the bed, choking on the little noises slipping from your lips. Another uh. And another. And another.

“God, baby. That’s— uh, fuck. So fucking good. Eat your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook whimpers into you, his voice muffled by your cunt as his head follows the desperate rut of your hips. You buck against his mouth, but his hands hold you down, his tongue relentless. “My pussy,” he breathes against your folds, the words so adorably possessive. “It’s my pussy, baby.”

“That's r-right,” you gasp, your head lifting weakly to meet the sight of him—his face filthy, drenched, his mouth and nose buried in your heat as he tongue fucks your cunt like it's his last day on earth. “Your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook groans against you, wet and desperate, his hips shifting against the mattress as he thrusts into nothing, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He knows he’s close—so close that it’s embarrassing. He can feel himself leaking through the fabric, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming right there in his pajama pants.

And you know it too. So you beg.

"Please, baby. Wanna cum with you, Kookie... Please."

His face morphs into a little pout as he slows, pulling away from his meal reluctantly, tongue flicking one last time at your puffy folds before his hands leave your thighs. He’s panting as he climbs back up your body, unable to deny you anything in the world, lips and chin glistening with your slick.

You smile at his wet face, your hands slipping up into his messy curls as you tug him down for a kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue is heady, dizzying, and you let out a little moan as you suck every last bit of it from his mouth. Jungkook groans into it, the sound so low that it almost resembles a cute little growl.

When you pull back, giving his swollen, red pout one last kiss, your gaze flickers down to his hand rubbing over his painfully hard cock. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing back up to meet his as you blink, waiting patiently.

He licks his lips, leaning down for one more quick kiss as his fingers fumble at his waistband. There’s a soft shuffle, and then his cock is free, flushed and heavy in his hand as he slides it against your slick folds. Your breath catches as he lines himself up, his hooded gaze locked on yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He doesn’t need to look. His cock presses into you with an ease that has you keening, the thick head stretching you open as he pushes in. You feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, feeding you more and more until your nails dig into his shoulders. The burn makes your jaw fall open, your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice breaking as he bottoms out. “It’s so warm, baby—”

You’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him as he starts to move, pulling out all the way before sinking right back in. “So big, Jungkookie,” you whimper, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “F-fuck, I love your dick so much.”

“Yeah?”

There it fucking is.

“You love it, baby? Love this fucking cock, baby?” he rasps, his hips snapping harder now, the loud, wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room.

“It’s yours.” Slap. “Your fucking cock.” Slap. “Will always be your fucking cock.”

Your pussy clamps around him, eyes rolling back as choked fucks spill from your lips. You can’t answer, your voice lost to your moans, your body arching into his as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside that makes your vision blur. You barely register the slam of the headboard against the wall, too cock-drunk to care as he presses a big hand to your belly.

“Feel that?” he growls, his palm firm against your abdomen. “Feel me, baby? Fucking up inside of you right here?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “Oh my god, yes, yes—”

His other hand slides up your body, under your singlet to find your nipple and roll it between his fingers. The sensation makes you jerk against him, your cries spilling freely now. “So loud,” he mutters, though his lips quirk like he’s fucking proud of it. “God, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?”

He knows you love it when he talks to you like this. You’ve told him so more than once. He didn’t know how he felt about it at first, but when it had you cumming harder, whining more, it wasn’t really a choice anymore. He’d do anything to make you feel like that, give you anything you wanted.

You don’t have a chance to respond—not coherently, at least. His thumb drags from your hip, slipping down to your swollen, throbbing clit. He rubs big, messy, wet circles over the sensitive nub, and your vision shakes as you feel it coming.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans when you let out that shaky little noise and that trembling clench you always do when you’re about to cum. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum on your cock, baby.”

Yes. Yes.

“Yes!” you scream, your body seizing up, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cry out, your hands slipping from his hair, nails raking down his bare back as you orgasm. “Baby, uh—fuck!”

He doesn’t slow, his hips pounding into you as his own release builds. “G-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, his thrusts erratic now. “Fuckkkk, baby, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimper the only word you seem to know. “Wannit so bad, Kookie.” You slur, voice breaking as he keeps fucking into you like a fleshlight. “Wanna feel your cum fill up my fucking pussy, baby, g-g-godddd.”

He shudders above you, his hips snapping hard with one long, deep thrust as he chokes out a cuumming, baby before spilling into you, his deep moan vibrating through your bedroom.

His thumb doesn’t stop.

He’s panting hard, hips fucking in and out of your leaking hole while you milk every last drop of sticky cum from his softening cock. “Come on, angel, gimmie one more, please. Please, angel.”

He’s pleading. You’re dying. Your body is convulsing, clenching and squeezing around his cock, somehow pulling even more of his load when he thought he had no more left to fucking give.

“One more, baby. That’s it. That’s it. There we go.”

Your eyes roll back, the dirtiest moan tearing from your throat as you squeal and shake around his cock. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. He works you through it, rocks you through it, pushing his hips flush against yours so the head of his cock bulges and pulses against your g-spot, spelling his name on your clit with his thumb while you give him one fucking more.

Your chest heaves as your body trembles beneath him, your hands clutching weakly around his sides. Jungkook’s hips still, his cock twitching inside you as he breathes heavily, his forehead pressing softly against yours. He lifts his thumb from your clit, panting, and brings it to his lips without thinking, sucking your slick from his finger.

When he pulls it free, his eyes blink open, dazed and drunk. “I-I can’t believe we did that,” he chokes out. “We were so loud.”

You giggle softly, batting his hand away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down until his weight sinks against you. “Babyyy,” he groans in protest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna squish you.”

You grumble, your legs locking around his waist again, keeping him firmly in place. His softening cock shifts slightly inside you, and you hum contentedly. “You’re fine, my love. Perfect.”

He lets out a grumpy little whine before conceeding and resting his head in the crook of your neck. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours, his body still trembling faintly.

“It really is okay, though, baby,” you say, stroking his damp hair with one hand while your other rubs little circles over his back. “My mom and Sang-cheol are very sex positive.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens in your hold. “Angel, noo.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shrugging innocently. “What? They are.”

His face burns even redder as he rubs his nose into your neck. “It’s gonna be so awkward tomorrow,” he mumbles.

You snicker, drumming his bare bum with your feet. “It’s fine, baby. I didn’t pack any golf attire by the way, so we’ll needa go to the mall in the morning. You can help me pick out a slutty little sport skirt.”

His head lifts just slightly and you swear his ears perk up like a bunny. “Okay,” he says softly, cheeks still pink. “I’d like that.”

You giggle, the sound muffled as you press a kiss to his warm cheek. “God, you’re so cute, baby.”

His lips quirk into a shy grin, his doe eyes blinking down at you. “I love you,” he whispers. “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Your chest tightens, and your brows furrow as you whine softly at his sweetness. “I love you too, my sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands to press another kiss to his pout. “So much.”

His smile is soft, glowing, as he nestles back into your neck. His bare chest is warm against you, the two of you sinking into a quiet, content stillness. Your fingers brush through the damp hair at the base of his neck, his breathing evening out as your heartbeats sync.

“Angel?” His voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, my love?” you hum sleepily.

“I-I’m hard again.”

merry 23rd my darlings !! i hope you’re all having the best holidays so far, and thank u so much for all the overwhelming love and support on this silly willy journey of ours 💋 i’m sure you’ve already checked out december, but if you haven’t yet, PLEASEEE do — i swear to fuck u won’t regret it. the biggest thank u again from lovie and me, we appreciate you all endlessly 🩷🩷 see you on the 25th!! mwwwah -lyssa <3

[rynbutt]

safe. | spencer reid.

You were pregnant but JJ had just left the team and they needed you. You hadn't told anyone; you hadn't even told Spencer.

my masterlist!

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, guns, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of drugs (antidepressants and opioids), mentions of car accident, gunshot wounds, death of pregnant woman, general criminal minds themes.

wc: 6.2k

a/n: bruh this was a looooong one! dw some banging smut coming in the next one with post-prison reid >:3

now playing... Fare Well by Hozier

This was really starting to piss you off.

You fell to your knees as bile pushed up your throat, your skin paling as you vomited for the third time today. You tried to keep something, anything, down but you would just wind up curled in on yourself and sweating in the corner of the bathroom stall. You ate a couple of crackers and sipped on water to keep your empty stomach satiated– But you always ended up right back here on the bathroom floor with your head between your knees trying to will the pain away.

Emily noticed your pale complexion and how exhausted you looked, offering to get you some medicine or ask Hotch about sitting out of the next few cases. You told her you were fine, that it was just stress. That answer seemed to satisfy her enough, though she wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, your workload had increased tenfold since JJ was forced to accept the job at the Pentagon, and you missed her terribly but you were proud of her. But you really could have used her advice right about now.

Because you swore this baby had it out for you.

You found out you were pregnant just over a week ago and you still hadn’t told Spencer. You were still wrapping your head around the whole thing because initially, you didn’t think you were pregnant, you just thought your body was dealing with the stress and workload in, frankly, a bizarre way. Hotch had wanted you to take over doing JJ’s job as communication liaison, which were rather important shoes to fill. He had total faith in your ability to do JJ’s job as well as do your own as a profiler, but you weren’t so sure anymore. 

You would tell Spencer when you were ready and right now was not a good time. Everyone was surviving on four hours of sleep a night, far too many cups of coffee and sheer willpower. The absolute last thing they needed was to lose another team member. So you soldiered on like a champion– a champion who still held her head over the bureau’s less than impressive toilet while she threw her guts up.

“Y/N?” You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, the ringing rattling around your skull distracting you from your surroundings. Penelope’s heels clicked against the tiles as she cautiously peered around the wall of the last stall where you kneeled on the ground. “Oh my god, sweet thing! What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Pen,” your voice was hoarse when you finally replied. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and tried to smooth your hair down, attempting to look at least semi-presentable before you left the bathroom to pretend everything was okay.

“No, no, my girl, you are not fine!” Penelope stood in behind you, pulling your hair out of your face as you vomited the last remnant of your soul into the toilet. “You need to talk to Hotch, you’ve got a bug or something, my dear. You shouldn’t even be at work when you’re this sick, let me talk to him for you and you just go home–”

“I’m not sick, Penelope!” You didn’t mean to shout at her, you really didn’t, you just felt awful and felt like a shell of yourself with how poorly you’d been sleeping and eating paired with all the stress of doing JJ’s job as well as your own. It was just a lot.

Penelope went quiet but stayed close to you, still holding your hair as you sat back on your heels, running your hands down your face. She let out a soft sigh, knowing you didn’t mean to shout at her. Penelope was stressed too– everyone was.

“I’m sorry, Pen,” you mumbled, your throat hurting from all the vomiting and coughing you’d managed to do today– it had to be a record honestly. 

Penelope just shook her head at you, reaching her hand out toward you, “you don’t have to apologise, sweet girl, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You shook your head, you still felt bad and shouting at sweet Penelope was not the way to deal with all the emotions swirling around in your head.

“It’s not fair,” you replied as she helped you to your feet, gently guiding you over to the basin to help you clean yourself up. “You’re stressed too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Penelope brushed some of your hair out of your face, her gaze narrowing as she watched you, waiting for you to tell her what was going on. It never came and she knew she would have to push you a little. Penelope thought it was necessary though because seeing you like this was awful and she couldn’t even imagine how Spencer would react if he knew how sick you were.

“What’s going on?” Penelope’s voice was soft; gentle, just trying to get you to talk so she could help. You were stubborn when it came to asking for help and by the time you did, you had hurt yourself more than necessary trying to solve it yourself. Not this time though– Penelope refused.

“I’m okay–” you looked at Penelope and she raised her brows at you, not accepting that answer in the slightest. You sighed, knowing this is a fight you wouldn’t win. “I’m pregnant.”

Penelope’s jaw nearly hit the floor. She knew something was up with you but pregnant? That was not on this year's bingo card. “What?? Y/N that’s–” she gauged your expression and she really couldn’t tell if you were upset or happy about being pregnant. She cut herself off before she finished her sentence, pulling her lips into a line. “Are we happy about this news or are we…?”

“We’re…” you were happy. Honestly, you were. You and Spencer had talked about having kids one day, ideally after you were married but that didn’t seem to be going to plan. You’d been with Spencer for three years, in the BAU for four, it’s not like your relationship was new or in the honeymoon phase, it just wasn’t the original plan and that scared the hell out of you. But you were happy to be carrying his child– the timing was just piss poor. “We’re happy… just scared.”

“Oh, baby,” Penelope cooed. “Of course you’re scared, it’s a huge adjustment. But I know you and I know Spencer, you guys will nail this parenting business.” Penelope managed to prove time and time again why she was your best friend. You often wondered if she knew you better than you knew yourself, which wouldn’t really surprise you given her job.

“I hope so.” You smiled softly, feeling somewhat human again after splashing water on your face and washing your hands. You knew Spencer would be a good dad, he was so good with kids and he was so gentle and patient with you. He was meant to be a dad. You just weren’t sure if you were meant to be a mother. You wanted to be a family with Spencer, it made you feel warm just thinking about it, but you were a person who worried about almost everything, even the things out of your control. What scared you was how in control you were. 

“I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t told everyone, that boy is obsessed with you and you’re making him a dad? God, it must be killing him sitting on this–” Penelope suddenly looked at you wide-eyed, connecting the dots all on her own. You winced as you watched her figure it out, gritting your teeth as she let out a soft gasp. “You haven’t told him?!”

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a muffled squeal of frustration into your palms. You would tell him eventually, just not right now, he was far too busy and was already stressing about his own workload, you couldn’t imagine how much more stressed he would be if he found out you were still in the field while pregnant.

“Pen, please,” you turned to her, “please keep this to yourself. I– We can’t deal with this right now. JJ’s gone and everyone is worked to the bone, I can’t do this to everyone right now, especially Spencer.” Penelope looked at you sympathetically, you knew you were asking a lot of her to keep it to herself, especially when Penelope wasn’t great at keeping secrets.

“Y/N, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell them eventually– You’re an FBI Agent. Being in the field is so dangerous and you don’t just have yourself to think about anymore.” You knew Penelope was right. You carried a gun around for Christ’s sake, you literally hunted down serial killers, active shooters, total psychopaths and everything in between. The field was no place for a pregnant woman. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, resting both of your hands on the basin in front of you.

“...How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you said softly, resting your hand against your belly. You didn’t have much of a bump yet but you were sure it would sneak up on you before you even realised. Lucky for you, you wore a lot of baggy sweaters around the office so you had some wriggle room when it came to hiding it.

“...My money’s on a girl,” Penelope was trying to make you feel better. She really was helping because the idea of Spencer hosting tea parties, getting covered in kitten stickers and his hair being covered in tiny butterfly clips made your heart swell.

You let out a soft laugh, “I think so too.”

“Alright, my love, I think we should leave this bathroom before they send out a search party,” Penelope laughed, linking her arm with yours to guide you out of the bathroom. 

You honestly did feel better after talking to Penelope and throwing the rest of your guts up. She made sure to remind you about ten times to call her if you needed anything, you promised you would because it did make you feel better knowing that someone knew about your pregnancy and you didn’t have to bear the weight of the news alone.

You sat down at your desk with a sigh, sipping on your water bottle to soothe your raw throat. You popped a piece of gum in your mouth, willing the taste of bile away. You let out a huff of air as you stared down at all the paperwork you had to do. Doing JJ’s job proved to be intense, especially when you were doing your own work on top of her’s. You picked up your pen when you felt Spencer press a kiss to the crown of your head as he placed a mug of hot coffee on your desk in front of you.

You smiled, craning your neck to look up at him. Spencer took the opportunity to kiss you softly, one of his hands resting on the side of your desk while the other rested on the back of your chair. You smiled against his lips, “shouldn’t you be working?” You teased.

“Are you trying to get me to go away?” Spencer looked at you curiously. You rolled your eyes playfully because of course you didn’t want him to go away. If anything, you wanted him to pick you up and take you home right this second.

“Yes, Spencer,” you replied sarcastically, “I’m trying to get you to go away.” Spencer wasn’t great with sarcasm but he had come to understand your humour over the years. He just grinned and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Sarcasm is rooted in truth, angel,” Spencer retorted with a gentle smile. 

“I am joking, but we both have a lot of work to do, Spence. I don’t know how I’m going to manage doing JJ’s job as well as my own,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair.

“There’s a reason Hotch wanted you to do it. I don’t think he could have picked anyone more capable,” Spencer replied. Maybe it was the hormones and the fact you were carrying a baby, but the comment made you want to cry. Spencer frowned as he watched your face fall, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“No, nothing,” You replied, sniffling quietly. You gave him a genuine smile, “I’m fine, Spence. I promise–”

“New case just came in,” Morgan called to the two of you, gesturing toward the meeting room at the back of the office with a manila folder in his hand. 

You looked at Morgan with a confused expression because now it was your job to decide what cases the team took after JJ’s departure. Morgan told you the case went straight to Hotch this time; an old friend had called in a favour. 

Spencer pulled a chair out for you, taking the seat right beside you in the meeting room. You opened the case file the moment Penelope dropped it in front of you.

“The victims are 20-year-old Evan Miller and 21-year-old Daniel Clark, both engineering students at Caltech. They were shot three days apart outside their family homes in the local area of Pasadena, California.” You followed along with Penelope as she gave a run down of the victims and the circumstances of their deaths.

The killings were straightforward, the UnSub didn’t try to dispose of the bodies and the men were simply shot in the head execution style. It didn’t seem like the doings of a serial killer who would usually seek some kind of sexual release from torturing and killing their victims. If anything, it seemed like revenge killings.

“They were just shot?” Emily questioned, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the crime scene photos. 

“Once in the head,” Hotch replied, “there were no witnesses around which suggests the UnSub knew the routine of the victims and the neighbourhood.”

“Could be a stalker?” Penelope suggested.

“Stalker victims are usually the object of a stalker’s affection, they rarely act in violence let alone such a blunt killing,” You replied, confused by the nature of such a straightforward murder.

Spencer flicked through the victim’s files, “the single shot to the head suggests the UnSub just wanted them dead. No physical evidence of sexual release or torture… This could be some kind of revenge killing.”

“Did these victims know each other?” You asked.

“According to their parents, they came from the same friend group,” Penelope replied. 

“Wheels up in thirty. Garcia, you're coming with us. Get your go bag,” Hotch said, quickly standing up from his chair. Penelope made a small noise of surprise before quickly ushering out of the meeting room. Hotch didn’t usually have Penelope come along but given you were short a very valuable member of your team, Penelope had started coming along more often. Not that you would ever complain having Penelope around. 

You pinned up the last of the crime scene photos on the board, standing back with your hands on your hips. Spencer was writing on the whiteboard next to you, jotting down all the things you knew about the victims and possible motives of the UnSub. Hotch and Morgan were engaging in formalities with the local detectives on the case while Penelope got herself settled in the makeshift office they had set up for the team. 

“The parents of the victims are here,” Emily poked her head into the office. “Y/N, Hotch wants you to talk to Ben and Sarah Miller, I’ve got the Clarks.”

“Alright, I got it,” you replied, letting out a dejected sigh. 

“You okay?” Spencer gently tucked some of your hair behind your ear, turning his full attention to you. You let out another sigh, nodding your head tiredly. “You can do this,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting between yours.

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. Spencer planted a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving the office, leaving Spencer and Penelope alone. 

“...I think she needs a break,” Penelope said after a beat. 

Spencer looked at her, eyebrows furrowed, “what makes you say that?”

Penelope tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, “she’s doing JJ’s job and her own. I mean, I think she’s the right girl for the job but… you know what she’s like.”

Spencer sighed, he knew exactly what you were like. You always held yourself and your work to such a high standard and you often overworked yourself to make everyone happy. “Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her when we get back to the hotel.”

“I think that’s a great idea, lover boy,” Penelope grinned.

You opened the office door, files in hand. Mr and Mrs Miller immediately stood up as you entered and you gave them a sympathetic smile. Mrs Miller had clearly been crying, still clutching a tissue in her hand while her husband paced around the office.

“Please, have a seat, Mr Miller,” you said gently.

“I’ll stand,” he replied firmly. You decided not to argue and sat down on the chair opposite the couch where Mrs Miller sat.

“Mrs Miller, I’m Agent L/N, I’m with the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the FBI–”

“FBI?” She questioned. “Was Evan in trouble?”

“We suspect he and his friend Daniel were killed by the same person,” you explained. Mrs Miller let out a soft gasp, her hand coming to rest over her mouth. 

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions about Evan?” You asked. Sarah didn’t say anything but she nodded her head, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “Daniel and Evan knew each other, right?”

“They went to high school together,” Sarah replied, her voice shaking. “They were so excited when they both got into Caltech,” she smiled sadly, fresh tears streaming down her face.

“Do you have any idea who killed our son?” Ben asked, his voice sounding angry.

“That’s what we’re here for,” you said, “we’re here to find who killed your son and why–”

“‘Why”?” Ben repeated, “he was just a kid.”

You sighed softly, “I understand that, sir. We’re just trying to figure out a possible connection.”

“Evan and Daniel were good kids. They would never hurt a fly,” Sarah frowned, sniffling softly as she began crying again. 

“Did Daniel and Evan hang around the same social groups?” You asked, turning your attention to Mr Miller, who was still pacing around the office with his arms crossed. “Maybe in some kind of extracurricular activities?”

“They were both on the college basketball team,” Ben said after a beat. “Why? You think this asshole is going to kill more of these kids?”

“I am just trying to get an idea of the social groups Evan and Daniel were a part of,” you didn’t want to get into the gory details of why you were asking such questions and decided they were both far too emotional for you to keep asking them questions; you would let Hotch handle it. “I need to speak with my team but I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” You rested a hand on Mrs Miller’s shoulder and you couldn’t shake how much you missed JJ doing this part.

You let out a sigh as you left the office, rubbing the tension in the back of your neck. You slowly walked over to Hotch, “Evan was on the Caltech Basketball team, he and Daniel went to high school together and Evan’s parents were adamant he was a good kid. I think he was a good kid, just got involved with the wrong people.”

Hotch let out a breath, “I want you and Prentiss to go to the school, talk to the faculty, basketball team coach, anything you can get.”

You nodded, gesturing to Emily on the other side of the bullpen. She firmly nodded at you and the two of you left for the school.

The team worked the case for two days before another body showed up. Everyone was starting early and finishing late to find the person who was doing this and you worked closely with the detectives and other officers on the case. Hotch gave the profile as soon as the team was certain but given the demographic of the suburban areas he was targeting these boys, it was rather unremarkable. The third body belonged to 21-year-old Oliver Marsh, another Caltech student studying Physics. He was shot once in the head while walking his dog no further than a block from his house. 

You stood in the middle of Oliver’s bedroom staring at the posters and certificates that littered his walls. Spencer rifled through papers on his desk, mostly finding papers related to physics journals and essays for school. Emily and David were downstairs talking to the parents while Hotch and Morgan went to see the crime scene.

You walked over to his bedside table pulling it open. There were a lot of birthday cards and a game boy but what caught your attention was the little clear yellow bottles with white caps. You lifted the first bottle out, reading the label–

“Oliver was taking Oxycodone,” you said softly, catching Spencer’s attention. “...And Escitalopram,” you spun on your heel, showing Spencer the two bottles. Spencer took the bottles from your hands, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully read the labels. “Chronic pain?” you suggested.

“Could be,” Spencer replied. “He could have been taking non-steroidal anti-inflammatories too, they’re typically over the counter.”

You rifled through the drawer again, pulling out a blue box, “Yeah, he was taking Ibuprofen too.”

“We should talk to the parents,” Spencer said. You nodded and the two of you ushered down the stairs to where his parents sat in the living room with David and Emily. “Was Oliver suffering from chronic pain?” Spencer quickly questioned before he even fully made it into the living room.

Oliver’s mother held a tissue to her nose, glancing at Emily with a confused expression. You put your hand on Spencer’s bicep, “Has Oliver injured himself recently? Maybe a fall or injury while playing sports?”

Oliver’s father shook his head, “No, not recently. He’s been on those antidepressants for a few years and takes the codeine when he has– had flare-ups.”

“Flare-ups?” David asked pointedly.

“He was in a car accident four years ago,” Mrs Marsh said, “He was in the passenger seat and was in a coma for two weeks… he hadn’t really been the same after that, got really sad and antisocial… he was in a lot of pain too.”

“He had to stop playing Football and running track, his body just couldn’t keep up,” Mr Marsh added, his eyes glazing over. “He lost a lot of friends, I don’t think I ever saw him hang out with anyone, Physics became everything to him.”

“Do you have evidence of his medical records anywhere?” Spencer asked. “Just so I can look them over.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mrs Marsh stood up, Spencer following her to their home office on the other side of the house.

You sat down across from Mr Marsh, “The accident he was in,” you started, “what happened?”

He looked at you with a pain in his eyes, “He was in the car with some of his friends and they were driving home from a party and it was late. I think they were all…” he hesitated for a moment, “they were all drunk.”

“Who was in the car?” Emily asked, not liking where this was going.

“...Evan Miller and Daniel Clark,” his father began to cry, holding his hand over his mouth. You felt your eyes widen, this was a revenge killing.

“Who was driving, Mr Marsh?” David asked quickly.

“Um, god–” He sniffled softly, “Peter… Peter something, he was older than them, I really don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Mr Marsh,” You stood up, quickly moving to the front door to call Penelope. You pulled out your phone, dialling her number. She picked up after the first ring.

“How may I be of service, oh queen of my country?” she sang, her fingers typing furiously against her keyboard. 

“I need you to look into an accident for me, four years ago,” you said with your hand on your hip. “Oliver Marsh, Daniel Clark and Evan Miller were all in the accident too. See if you can find newspaper articles, news segments, anything– I think we know who the last target is.”

“Right, give me a moment,” Penelope replied. You heard her typing before she stopped, “Oh no…” she mumbled softly.

“What’s wrong, Pen?” You furrowed your brows.

“Peter Harvey,” Penelope sighed, “he’s the last boy… He was driving with three other high school boys; Oliver, Daniel and Evan when they struck an oncoming car and killed a pregnant woman on impact; her husband walked away without a scratch.”

“Shit.” You cursed, “What’s his name?”

“Jonathan Hughes, his wife was Katherine… she was 8 months pregnant, Y/N.” Penelope sounded so pained and you knew she was thinking of you and the small baby you were carrying. “Y/N…”

“I know, Pen… After this case wraps up… I’ll tell everyone,” you replied with a gentle sigh.

“And you’ll take time off?” Penelope sounded like she was lecturing you.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah, Penelope. I’ll take some time off.”

“Okay… I’ll send Hotch and Morgan Jonathan’s last known address, I’m sending you Peter Harvey’s address–”

Your phone beeped as Penelope sent the address through. “Where would I be without you, Pen?”

“Nowhere good, my love,” you could hear the smile in her voice. You quickly hung up before walking back into the Marsh’s house. 

Emily and David turned to look at you, “We’ve got him.”

“Alright, you guys go, I’ll grab Reid and we’ll be right behind you,” David waved you off and Emily quickly ushered the two of you to the car. 

Emily was speeding toward the address Penelope had given you while you called Hotch and Morgan, filling them in on all the information Penelope had given you. They agreed to go to Jonathan’s address to hopefully intersect him before he left for Peter Harvey. You were always nervous when it came to these parts of the case because you couldn’t control the outcome no matter how hard you tried. A grieving man was going around killing these young men and while it was awful what he was doing; you could sympathise with him and the pain he was feeling over losing his wife and unborn child. 

You instinctively rested a hand over your belly, your thumb stroking the small curve. You couldn’t even imagine how much pain Spencer would be in if he lost you, let alone your child too. You would tell him and you would ask Hotch about taking some time off later in your pregnancy and sitting out of cases like this. 

“Shit he’s already here,” Emily cursed when she noticed Jonathan’s SUV parked a couple of blocks from Peter’s address. “Call Hotch.”

You dialled Hotch’s number and he picked up almost instantly, “What is it, L/N?”

“He’s already here, his SUV is parked a couple blocks down from Peter’s address. He’s already out looking for him,” You quickly said.

“We’re on our way, units are already on route,” he hung up after that. 

Emily pulled the car up on the gutter, the car skidding to a stop. You immediately pushed the door open, holding your gun by your thigh as you ran across the lawn to Peter Harvey’s house. You knocked on the door and a woman answered after a beat.

“Mrs Harvey?” You asked, panting softly.

“Yes?”

“Is your son Peter here?”

“No, he went to the store down the street an hour ago, he should be back soon… What is this about?” She asked, her hand gripping the door in concern.

“We believe someone dangerous may be looking for your son,” Emily said. Mrs Harvey rested her hand over her mouth, a soft gasp leaving her lips.

“Mom?” You spun around and Peter stood with a plastic bag of groceries in his hand in the middle of the lawn.

It all happened almost in slow motion. You saw a figure wearing dark clothes stalking across the lawn and without even thinking, you darted toward Peter as the UnSub pulled the gun out of his coat, aiming it straight at Peter’s head. You could hear Emily yelling at Mrs Harvey to go back inside before she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the UnSub; but it was too late.

You shoved Peter to the ground as he fired, feeling the shot burn through your shoulder as both you and Peter fell to the ground. You instinctively pressed a hand to your burning shoulder, warm blood oozing from the wound and through your fingers. 

“Jonathan Hughes?” You said, your breathing heavy as you tried to fight through the pain. He held his gun right in front of your face.

“Move,” he grunted, his eyes glassy.

“I know what happened to your wife,” you breathed trying to stall him as more police cars with blaring sirens pulled into the street.

“They killed her,” tears streamed down his face and you honestly felt bad for him. 

“It was an accident,” you replied softly.

“They were drunk,” he almost yelled, his hand shaking as his gun was still trained on you.

“I know,” you said, “It was a stupid mistake that haunted them, Jonathan. I know it doesn’t change what happened but these boys–”

“They’re monsters!” he shouted, hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

You saw David and Spencer get out of the car. Spencer’s heart was in his throat when he saw you kneeled on the ground, shielding Peter with your body while your hand and shirt were covered in your own blood. He didn’t even pick up his gun as he began stalking toward you.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft when he called you at first, then it turned to outright concern and anger, “Y/N? No, no!”

David grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him back as Spencer fought against him, trying to get to you. It was irrational and it was dangerous. David quickly picked up his walkie, “An agent has been shot, we need an ambulance.”

“Who was shot?!” Penelope’s voice rang out in the car as she spoke to Morgan and Hotch.

“I repeat, agent L/N is shot, we need an ambulance,” David spoke before putting his walkie away to hold Spencer back, pulling him to the ground.

“Morgan! Oh my god!” Penelope felt tears form in her eyes.

“It’s okay, babygirl, she’s going to be alright,” Morgan said, trying to reassure her as Hotch stepped on the accelerator. 

“No, Morgan, you don’t understand–”

“We’re going to get an ambulance–”

“She’s pregnant!” Penelope blurted out, not knowing what else to say for them to understand the gravity of why Penelope was so upset and concerned. 

Hotch hesitated for a moment, “She’s what?”

Penelope let out a shaky breath, “she’s twelve weeks pregnant, Hotch. She wasn’t going to tell anyone until after the case– and now she’s been shot.” Penelope began to cry, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slipped from her eyes.

Hotch hadn’t sped that fast since he found out Foyet was in his house. He cared about his team a lot and he had a soft spot for you even though he wouldn’t admit it. The tires skidded along the road as Hotch pulled on the handbrake, both him and Morgan training their guns on the UnSub as they approached.

Morgan’s heart hurt at the sight of you, your skin slightly paled as blood bloomed from your shoulder, drenching your arm and your hands. You looked so scared as the UnSub trained his gun on you, unmoving. Emily had her gun aimed at the UnSub, yelling for him to put it down.

“Jonathan Hughes!” Morgan’s voice caught your attention. “Put down the gun!”

“Don’t move!” Jonathan shouted, “I’ll shoot her!”

“No you won’t, man,” Morgan shook his head.

“How do you know that!? She’s in my way!” He shouted back.

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan sighed. Your eyes widened as you looked at Morgan, who looked back at you with a sad expression. 

Spencer stopped fighting against David, his breathing evening out as the words fell on his ears. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby and you got shot and now you had a gun held up in front of your face. Spencer didn’t even realise he was crying, his tears cold against his warm skin. All he could do was watch, there was nothing he could do.

Jonathan glanced at you as you held your hand over your belly. “W-What?”

Morgan reached a hand out as he got closer. “Just like your wife, Jonathan… You wouldn’t kill a pregnant woman like those boys did.” 

Jonathan seemed to dissociate, staring at you with such a hurt expression as Morgan leapt forward, grabbing the gun from Jonathan’s hands and tossing it across the grass. He pushed Jonathan to the ground, pinning his hands behind his back. You let out a breath as you felt yourself grow tired. Emily caught you before you fell the rest of the way to the ground, holding you close to her body as she screamed for a medic. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Emily gently rocked you, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears running down your cheeks.

Your eyes were heavy as you attempted to pry them open.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally pulled your eyes open, the smell of disinfectant hit you first, followed by the sounds of beeping. You were in the hospital. You glanced down at your arm, an IV stuck in your arm while a pulse oximeter was clipped to your finger. Despite the fact the doctor had prescribed pain medication, you still felt like shit and your shoulder was killing you.

A soft noise caught your attention and you glanced at the chair next to your bed, Spencer sound asleep in a chair with a hospital blanket draped over him. You smiled softly as you saw the flowers, balloons and plushies littered around your room, most likely a courtesy of Penelope.

“She’s awake,” Morgan smiled, standing in the doorway. 

You grinned at him, “Hi, Derek.”

Morgan slowly walked over to your bed. “Feeling okay, pretty girl?” Morgan gently grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I’m okay,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to ask but you knew you had to, “...is the baby okay?”

“Your baby is fine,” Morgan replied with a soft smile. You let out a breath of relief as you placed a hand over your tummy protectively. “...You scared the life out of everyone though.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Especially your lover boy,” Morgan said, “he hasn’t left your side.”

“Sounds like my Spencer,” you laughed softly. 

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was laced with sleep as he opened his eyes. He quickly got up, ditching the blanket on the floor to tend to you.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Morgan quickly said before leaving the room.

Spencer’s warm hands cupped your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought I lost you, Y/N.” He let out a breath, pulling away to stare at your face and stroke your cheeks with his thumbs. You reached a hand up to grip his forearm.

“I’m sorry–”

“You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Tears formed in your eyes as you stared up at him, searching for any kind of anger or resentment. There wasn’t any, he could never be mad at you.

“I wouldn’t have let you come on the case,” he replied after a beat. “I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you… I knew you would be protective– more protective,” you corrected with a soft smile. 

“I’m aware,” Spencer pulled his lips into a tight smile. “You know the odds of… complications are higher in the first trimester, angel. You should have told me,” he frowned.

“I know, Spence,” you sighed. “I just wanted to make sure I was in the clear before I told you… I understand being shot isn’t necessarily helping with that but–”

“I understand,” he replied. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You stared at him for a moment, “are you happy?”

“Happy?”

“That I’m pregnant? I know we’re not married and our jobs are crazy but–”

Spencer cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips, he pulled away slightly, “I’ve never been more happy,” he whispered.

You beamed with happiness, a bright smile tugging on your lips. Spencer hesitantly pressed a hand to your belly, his thumb stroking your tiny bump.

“Penelope thinks it’s a girl,” you muttered.

“...What do you think?” He asked curiously.

“I think she might be right,” you giggled softly.

“You know you can’t actually tell yet,” Spencer said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

“You asked what I thought!” you retorted.

He laughed softly, “Yes, you’re right, you’re right.”

“Mmm, did that taste like poison to admit?”

“Are gunshot victims supposed to be this mouthy?”

a/n: phew! i hope you guys liked it <3 i know i disappeared for a hot minute but here she is!!!