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bippot · 4 months

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Summary: Working with his wife usually comes easy to Spencer but when a woman identical to her is found dead, it becomes a little bit harder to deal with. Especially when she's determined to find the guy by whatever means she has at her disposal.

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Additional Tags: Married Couple, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Serial Killers, Canon-Typical Violence, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Brief weight gain mention, Pregnancy, Reader is a Member of the BAU (Criminal Minds), Protectiveness, Angst with a Happy Ending

In all her time of knowing him, Y/N had never seen Spencer be rageful. He was annoyed by small minded cops constantly. Any case that had anything to do with kids caused everyone to be on edge. And he had a sore spot whenever schizophrenia came up in conversation.

He was kind and gentle and frequently had a smile on his face whenever she needed a friendly face, but Y/N knew that deep down, there was a sadness lurking in his soul. He was a lonely man at his core so she tried her very best to make sure she always was there to listen whenever he wanted to rant and tell her facts and vomit word soup out in the open.

Sure, the fact that he was cute was a factor in Y/N's interest in her coworker's words. But it was his genuine need to use that big ol' brain of his to help other people out that really captured her attention. He had a big heart to go along with his big brain, that's why he was so special.

And why she fell in love with him.

"Sorry, one of the officers cornered me and forced me to endure a way too long conversation about bitcoin and now your coffee is getting cold," Y/N announced as she placed Spencer's drink on the desk in front of him. He immediately pulled his focus away from the papers he'd been staring at and shifted it to his wife, causing his entire being to go from slouching down in his chair to perking up in attention.

"How did you get away?" he asked her with a gleam in his eye.

Y/N sat down on the edge of the desk and shrugged. "His shift ended," she answered with a chuckle, taking a sip from her coffee and holding back a wince at how bitter it was.

Whilst she was making it, she had been faced with a decision - use up all the remaining sugar on Spencer's cup so he has it the way he likes or share the sugar between them both and have the one coffee she allowed herself to indulge in per day to taste better. Luckily, he didn't see her distaste for her coffee, or if did, he didn't mention it.

But she did notice when he made a face that she'd seen far too many times. His brows furrowed and crinkled his forehead. Y/N's hand brushed the back of his shoulder tenderly. "Migraine?"

"Just a headache right now."

"Do you want me to go get you anything?"

"No, no, I'm okay," he waved her off. "I'll be fine."

Bullshit. She knew him well enough to know that he was in more distress than he wanted to admit. She jumped off the desk, gave him a scratch right on the crown of his head, and moved to find her bag, rifling through it until she found what she was looking for with a satisfied, "Ah-ha!" Whatever Y/N had found was being shoved in Spencer's direction. He took it without looking, knowing exactly what it was from the crinkle and soft jingling sound that accompanied it, and popped the magnesium out of the packet and tipped a vitamin B gummy from the pot.

"Thank you, honey."

"It's my job to make sure my husband's brain doesn't explode," Y/N told him as he threw the gummy in his mouth. "You're welcome."

"I certainly am," Spencer replied with a cheeky grin, before taking a large gulp of his coffee. His wife rolled her eyes but couldn't resist smiling back.

By the time Y/N had finished her coffee, Hotch was calling for everyone to gather because there had been bodies found. The squad listened as Garcia gave them the update. Four bodies had been found, all of whom had very similar features. As he was watching the photos of the dead women pop up on the screen, Spencer's hand made it to his wife's back, curling her shirt into his fist. Y/N did seem to react. Not even when all of the team had looked at her as soon as they realised too.

The victim they'd deduced had been the first of this serial killer was a doppelganger of Y/N. The others looked similar but the first was almost identical to her. Same hair colour, same nose, same eyes, same smirk. There were a few obvious differences due to styling and body weight distribution but they could be sisters. Twins even. Well, at least Y/N knew what she'd look like after being strangled to death and dumped in a mass grave in the middle of nowhere. She never had wanted to know that. Now she did.

Whatever morbid curiosity she had, it had never got that detailed. Hotch knew that Y/N would be able to deal with this. However, he had no idea if Spencer would be. Judging by Reid's clenched jaw and the mortified look in his eyes, he wasn't dealing with being presented with an image of someone who looked like his wife dead in a ditch very well.

"I'll point out the elephant in the room," Y/N began before anyone could say it out loud. She gestured in the general direction of her face. "We could use this to our advantage."

Yeah, she'd been a decoy before and was prepared to do so again. Her situation was slightly different now though.

Spencer's head whipped up. A thousand million zillion alarm bells went off in his head, which was not very pleasant mixed with his headache. "Y/N..." he warned, his voice low and shaky.

"It's an option. That's all I'm saying."

"We'll try a more traditional approach at first, but it may be beneficial for us to keep Y/N out of the public eye just in case we need to go down that route," Hotch stated, which was met with some relief. Not much. Some. He turned fully towards Spencer. "Is that agreeable?"

Humming his agreement - though it didn't sound all that enthusiastic - Spencer was mostly quiet during their discussion about the unsub. The usual points were hit. The unsub is anti-social. He won’t look anyone in the eye. He’s not confident. He's a white male in the 30-45 range. He probably doesn't like his mummy. Spencer spoke up when he thought he had new insight that nobody else had brought up yet, but as soon as Hotch told everyone to get some sleep for the night, Spencer got the hell out of there.

Derek sighed. "Want me to cool him down?" He offered, bumping her in the shoulder with his own. Y/N shook her head and gave him a bump back.

"I will power through the silent treatment,"she told him, and he gave her a few seconds to change her mind before chuckling and stepping away.

Back in their hotel room, Spencer was in the shower when Y/N got back. He'd had a five minute head start and was not wasting that precious time, it seemed.

Officially, the FBI booked two rooms for the married couple as agents have their own rooms instead of sharing most of the time - unless the hotel is fully booked or they're in a romance novel and need to huddle for warmth - so whenever the squad touch down in a new city and settle in, there's a guarantee that one of the Reid's rooms are abandoned. It was a waste of company money.

Working together whilst married had been a weird thing in the beginning. There was a review of how effective Y/N and Reid were by the unit chief when they first declared themselves as a couple to HR, and then another conducted after their wedding. It was decided that there weren't any glaring problems with the two working together - they weren't half as flirty as Morgan and Garcia so maybe that helped them out a bit - so they were allowed to stay in the same unit. That report had said that Agent L/N's reckless nature often conflicted with Dr Reid's anxiousness. Which had been true enough. Sometimes those traits worked well together. Other times...

A pin drop could be heard as the couple got ready for bed. Y/N climbed into her side of the bed and Spencer into his. The room was dark and quiet, and in that silence, Spencer could hear the sound of his heart and that drum beat of terror, and it was almost as loud as a thunderstorm. Could she hear it too? Or was he just afraid that she could?.Both sat with their backs against the headboard, Y/N read her book quietly while Spencer stared into space and tried his best to ignore his wife. The silence stretched on and on, until finally, Spencer felt a hand on the back of his head and fingers softly stroking through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief.

Instantly, the drum in his head stopped. He pressed himself into her side, morphing his body to fit the contours of hers, and - without losing her spot on the page - she let her head tip downwards to give him a kiss on the crown of his head. It was a soft, brief peck and Spencer felt himself yearn for more. "Pay attention to me?" He whined.

An amused huff came from her nose and she placed her book on the bedside table so both hands were free to lavish him with so much petting and loving caresses that he began purring like a cat in no time.

"Better?"

"Much," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her warm fingers tracing patterns along his temples, his nose, his cheekbones. Her fingers moved to his chin and tilted it so she could give him a smooch, and Spencer thought he would melt at the pure sweetness of her lips on his.

"I love you," he said, and it felt so natural to say it. It felt so right.

"I know," she replied, sounding just as serious. "I love you too."

Spencer felt a shift in the atmosphere as the tension that had been there evaporated, leaving them to cuddle together and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's arms. Though the issue hadn't been solved, that was okay right now. They'd deal with that tomorrow or whenever it had to be dealt with. Not right now. Not before bed. They'd never gone to bed angry at each other and they weren't going to start today.

Despite seeing her dead doppelganger, Y/N fell asleep pretty quickly. Her husband was so warm at her side and the hotel pillow was so fluffy and comfortable that she was out like a light in no time. Spencer lay awake for a long time, his eyes staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing as he traced a line from one of her hips to the other and back again over and over again, feeling the pouch of her stomach with the very tip of his finger, and his chest was tight with worry.

He didn't know why his mind kept going back to that photograph. Why would his brain choose to relive that? Did he want to torture himself that badly? Maybe if he stayed awake he would be able to protect her from anyone who even thought about hurting her. He'd catch this killer if it was the last thing he ever did.

"I can hear you thinking." His wife's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts and Spencer let out a small groan. How long he'd been unravelling in his own brain, he had no idea, yet it was long enough for the hoarseness that she usually got after a nap to enter her voice. "Go to sleep, baby," she said. "You're going to be exhausted tomorrow."

"Can't."

"You can."

Y/N pulled his body so that he was fully on top of her and wrapped her arms around him. Spencer felt her start to move her hand up and down his spine in a gentle rhythm and her other hand cupped the back of his head, holding him close as she slowly rocked them side to side. She began to hum a tune, cradling him almost like he was a 6'2" big baby, and let him relax in her arms. It worked. It always did. Within minutes, he was snoring into her shoulder. He did that thing that men do when they suddenly spasm for no apparent reason because their body can't believe it's finally getting some down time, but eventually it evened out.

Once the early morning arrived, Y/N was beginning to stir. She awoke to the soft gentle presses of her husband's lips against the skin of her stomach, his head lifting up the bottom of her sleep shirt to plant a kiss on her belly. For the past month or so, she'd often woken up to him mumbling a hushed conversation to her abdomen. She'd pretended not to hear it and let him continue for as long as he wanted to, thoroughly enjoying his affection and the way it would send a shiver of pleasure straight through her body. And today was no different.

Only when it became clear that he wasn't planning on getting up anytime soon did she begin to move and acknowledge the fact that she was actually awake and aware. Massaging his shoulders, she cooed, "Morning handsome," and he mumbled something unintelligible as he buried his face in her stomach again, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

Reid was not a morning person. Not in the slightest. Y/N had learned very early on that the best way to force him to get up in the morning was to get herself up and he would mimic her. It usually worked like a charm. But this morning, he'd trapped her legs beneath his body and was keeping her hips pinned to the mattress with his. This man was heavy. He was gangly and lanky and looked like a twig but could feel like a tonne of bricks when he wanted to. And he was trying to keep her pinned down, which meant he wanted something.

"Let me up, you big brute," she teased as she wriggled her hips to try to get away from him. Spencer laughed at her attempt and she gave up the moment his big hands landed on her hips to keep them still. He lifted his head up, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle.

"Morning beautiful."

"I take it you're not ready to get up for work just yet?" He shook his head as he ran his hand up and down her waist, keeping his eyes on hers. "You know we'll have to eventually, right?"

"I do. I also know I'm going to have to be pretty convincing to get you to stay." He pressed a kiss to her navel. "But."

One more kiss placed just under the previous one on her abdomen. "I am."

Another on her pelvis. "Willing."

Two more, one on each thigh, his palms pushing her legs apart to give him more space to settle in the gap. "To. Be."

Finally, he let his lips fall to her underwear-covered pubic bone in the barest whisper of a kiss, one that set off a small firestorm of desire that shot straight to her core. "Very, very convincing."

At the beginning of their relationship, they'd come up with the rule that they wouldn't give in to their desire whilst on the job. When they first got together, that was mostly a way to make them seem as unsuspecting as possible. Their coworkers were profilers for god sake! Even the slightest smudge of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth and Derek would be giving Spencer a patronising clap on the back and a "My man."

Now it was out in the open, it was mainly a professional courtesy. It would look awful if two FBI agents comforted a grieving family with mussed hair and incorrectly buttoned shirts. There were exceptions, though. And why not? They had plenty of time before they were expected to show up at work. They were in the privacy of their hotel room with the nearest member of their team (Emily) six rooms away. The rule could be morphed into a suggestion, and it's easier to ignore suggestions.

"Can I convince you?" He let his lips curl upwards at the corners as he gave her a kiss over her underwear with an exaggerated 'mwah'. He added on a desperate sigh of "Please?" to seal the deal.

"You can try."

"Well then, lie back and enjoy yourself, Mrs Reid," he responded cheekily, pulling her underwear down her thighs and off in the general direction of her suitcase that sat by the dresser.

With that, he got to it. He started by licking and nipping at the inside of her thighs, making sure to get up higher with each bite until his lips touched her clit and he flicked it with his tongue. Her head fell back as she arched into his mouth, giving him better access to do whatever the hell he wanted to her. His hands cupped her butt, keeping her pressed up against his mouth as he worked her into a frenzy.

"Mrs Reid, you are so beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered shut as she let herself go. The pressure of his mouth, his hands, his stubble. Her man could make her come in no time at all. The more he gave her, the more she wanted. And the more she wanted, the more he gave her. It was a lovely cycle that gave them both what they wanted.

The slow slide of his fingers moved under her shirt and up to her bare breasts. He teased her nipples into hard points, his touch sure and demanding, and just was needed to make her moan out his name. "Spencer, oh god, Spence."

Thanks to one particularly forceful suck on her clit, Y/N was grabbing at Spencer's curls, trying to hold him to her while he drove her towards the edge. But it wasn't enough just yet.

"Fingers too, baby."

"Where are your manners, honey?"

"Jesus fucking christ, are you serious?" She huffed and had planned to fully argue some more but gave up almost immediately. "Fine! Please finger me, my loving husband."

"That is more like it."

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he used two fingers to part her folds and slip them inside of her. She was wet and ready for him, and he made quick work of finding her G-spot, mumbling a little "Ah, there it is," when she got a smidge louder. He curled his fingers at the same pace as his tongue swirled around her clit. It was a rough and slow rhythm that made her writhe and squirm.

"Can feel these legs shaking. You close, pretty girl? You want me to keep going, don't you?"

"Uh-huh, keep going."

"Tell me. Say it. Say it all pretty like you always do."

So, she did. Her voice was all breathy and whiny as she got out the words he wanted to hear. "You're so good, gonna cum, gonna cum. So good to me."

Y/N felt her orgasm catch up with her, her muscles tensing up as she was taken over by the wave of pleasure. It swept over her in seconds, stealing her breath and leaving her weak in the knees. She dug her nails into Spencer's shoulders, curling her toes into the bed to keep herself grounded as she felt the aftershocks ripple through her.

"Good job, baby," she praised, grinning down at him. "What's next on the agenda this morning?"

Spencer's smile was so goofy - looking as if he drunk off the taste of her, and maybe he was - as he moved himself back up the bed to kiss her neck, his grin making it impossible for the kisses to be anything but a press of teeth against soft skin. He kissed up and up and up until he reached her ear, whispering, "I’m not done with you yet, honey. If you ask me nicely, I'll fuck you so good," against the shell.

Whenever Spencer swore, it was always surprising to her. And when he swore like that, it sounded more dirty than if a frequently swearing man had done it. As if his mouth was filled with those words but had been pushing them down and down - they'd been sitting there for a while, just brewing - and in the wait, had grown a mind of their own.

"C'mon, Spence, get your cock out and put it in me already. I wanna feel you, please?" she asked, exaggerating the 'please' so he couldn't call her rude again.

"Yeah, you want more?" he teased, squeezing her ass in his big palm.

"Damn right, I do."

"I'll get right to it then, my pretty baby."

As he nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the skin there, let her head fall back on the pillow, let out a giggle when he bit at her jaw and pushed his head away, laughing even harder when he tried to playfully bite her fingers.

"Weirdo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're married to me so that makes you Mrs Weirdo by default. You signed yourself up for all this, honey."

Tugging his boxers down, she gave him a light a slap on the ass, the sound of smack loud in the quiet of the room. "Married you just for the marital tax deduction," she joked, but she couldn't help but mischievously grin so he absolutely knew she was just messing around. Obviously she told him that she loved him lots yet he still struggled to comprehend that some days. So, she made sure whenever she teased him that he was fully aware that she didn't mean it.

"And I married you because I love you," he responded, far more sincerely than she had thought he would've, and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock jutting up against her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deep. "And I love making you feel good."

The slow, teasing pace of their foreplay was broken by his sudden, hard thrust as he entered her. It was so intense, and the way he held her hips pressed against his, grinding into her and pinning her to the bed with his weight, was so possessive and so deliberate that it left her breathless.

At first, it always took a moment - just a small one - where he rested his forehead on her shoulder and let them both adjust to the feeling of him inside her. But then, he was never one to rush, and he'd make sure they both felt entirely comfortable. And once they were, his hand gripped her ass cheek, and he pumped into her in a slow, steady rhythm. "I love fucking you, Y/N," he murmured, the words thick with feeling. "So goddamn perfect, you. I'm never letting you go."

It was a line he'd used on her a lot. I'm never letting you go. You are my world. My universe. My life. And I am yours, and you are mine. They were such simple statements but they said exactly what they needed to. Because she knew they were true.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his back, curling her body against his as he began to move, his thrusts getting more frantic and his kisses more desperate. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she arched her back in a desperate attempt to bring him closer, to feel him even deeper, to feel him harder. His breath was harsh, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs and pulling them closer to her chest as he fucked her.

"I love you so much, Y/N. You're my everything. You're my... my..." he trailed off, hitting a hard thrust into her. " You're my life. I can't believe I get to wake up every morning next to you. Let's quit our jobs and stay in bed forever, you and me. Just you and me. Don't you want that? Don't you want that more than anything?"

One thing is for certain, he'd go mad if he had no cases to figure out like a sinister rubix cube. But Y/N, well, she'd often thought about what her life would be like if she left the BAU behind. Profiling was in the very fabric of Spencer's DNA, and without his cases, he'd be lost.

"Forever in bed with you, baby? I'll take it."

"Uh-huh, you take it, honey," he mumbled into her skin, his hips hitting a spot that sent a shockwave of delight through her core. "You take it so good."

A whimper escaped her lips as he increased his tempo, his hips slamming against her in a way that made her feel cherished, like she was his only source of joy in their hectic, difficult life. Y/N arched her back, her orgasm building, her body tensing, every muscle tightening in anticipation. They were both so close, so desperate for each other, that Spencer used his one hand to keep his wife's ankle over his shoulder and the other was pushing her thigh as far open as her flexibility allowed to get as deep as he physically could inside of her. "Baby, I'm going to..." he managed to say, his voice strained, his breathing heavy.

Then, with a final thrust, he came. Not just the usual orgasmic feeling that came with a good fuck, but a burst of energy so strong it knocked the breath out of her and sent her tumbling over the edge of pleasure, falling into a blissful, fucked out headspace for the next however many minutes.

Spencer collapsed on top of her, every muscle in his body tingling. "That was..." he couldn't even believe it. "So good. I'm not sure I'll ever top that." He laughed, a full-body, carefree sound that was the best thing she'd ever heard. Y/N laughed, too, watching as he rolled off of her and onto his back, his hair falling in a ruffled, sexy mess around his face. It was impossible to resist running her fingers through his hair, the feeling of his thick, curly locks against her hand so comforting, so calming.

"We should shower."

"I thought you wanted to quit our jobs and stay in bed forever?" Y/N parroted his words back to him, rolling onto her side to face him.

"We smell of sex." He got out of bed and held his hands out to his wife to help her to her feet. "Come on, stinky."

By the time they were showered and dressed, none of their coworkers would know how Spencer had made her go briefly brain dead that very morning.

This case wasn't solved on their first visit. The unsub had either been tipped off or was closely following the investigation and went dormant for enough time that Hotch moved them on, which wasn't an unusual thing to happen. It was annoying, though.

There was some guy out there whose perfect victim was Y/N. Even as they got on with their lives and solved other cases, that fact remained in the back of Spencer's head. He couldn't forget it - mostly because he doesn't forget anything - but he knew that if he hadn't been born with this gift, that it would be the same. With this guy still out in the world, Y/N was in danger every time she went out in public. It was hard to breathe while he was thinking about that.

Two months later, the unsub killed again and the team was brought back. This time Spencer was determined to find him.

The same officer who'd lectured her about bitcoin once again cornered Y/N, but this time, she had her husband by her side. Previously, he'd been a little pushy but once Y/N had told him that she was in a relationship, he backed off. Now, he greeted her with, "I remember you being slimmer."

What? Did he think that was an acceptable way to say hello?

"Funny, I have an eidetic memory - that means I remember just about anything I deem important - and I don't remember you. Weird," Spencer shot back, his tone icy.

Instantly, the officer's jaw dropped. "I, um, I just - "

"We've been on the jet for the past few hours, mind giving us some space?" Spencer suggested and the officer flushed a bright red, backing off immediately. Y/N caught Spencer's eye and gave him a quick squeeze on the bicep to say thanks, and was rewarded with a wink that was far too flirty for a work environment.

Garcia gave them another rundown of the case, briefly going over what they had before and adding the new revelations at the end. The killer had fucked up. The most recent victim had bite marks on her shoulder so they had a very good insight at what the killer's teeth looked like. Whoever he was, he was missing his top canines and if they were to look into his mouth, there would be an obvious gap.

Part way through Garcia's rundown Spencer very subtly reached into his pocket, pulled out a granola bar and slid it towards his wife. She ate it with a smug little smile on her face.

"That's new," Emily pointed out. "There was no bite mark at the last crime scene."

"Biting as a form of attack is usually used as an act of self defence," Derek added.

Hotch let out a gruff noise, one that was toneless and no indicator of whether he thought that was a correct assumption or not. He had a talent for that - bland, unemotional responses that encourages more discussion without leaning the conversation one way or the other.

"That would only make sense if the marks were inflicted perimortem or pre-mortem, but judging by the lack of redness and blood splatter around the puncture of the skin, this bite was done post mortem," Spencer explained, gesturing with the tip of his pen at the area around the teeth marks.

"This guy has escalated to biting his victim's after he's killed them, why?" Y/N posed the question once she'd finished chewing and the room was silent for a second before Rossi spoke up.

"A killer I interviewed back in the early 90's did the same thing. For him, he believed he was absorbing the life essences from his victims, he was consuming what little of them remained when he bit them."

Emily let out a bitter scoff. "Even after taking their lives, it's still not enough for this guy. He needs to annihilate what's left of their soul."

"Maybe he thinks he's collecting souls for the afterlife like how Zodiac believed his victim's would become his slaves once he passed on?" Y/N thought out loud and the room went still, all of them thinking it simultaneously.

"Whatever the case, the guy is a freak," Derek stated, and they all nodded in agreement because yeah. He was a freak.

Just before they'd gone off into their own research teams, Hotch called put, "Y/N, would you mind holding back a few minutes? I need to speak with you," and although she knew she hadn't done anything to warrant a stern talking to, it still felt like being sent to the principal's office.

"I'll catch up with you in a sec, Spence."

Closing the door once Spencer was on the other side, Hotch sighed. "I know what your answer will be but I feel obligated to ask, do you want to give this one a miss?"

Y/N looked over at him and the corners of her mouth turned up just a little. "You think I'm going soft, Aaron?" She teased, and he grinned at her.

"I know Reid's been giving you an earful."

"He always does."

Something that sounded like a chuckle came from Hotch's throat but it died before it could fully form as his eyes caught the opened case file on the desk, the photo of Y/N's dead doppelganger paperclipped in the corner of the page. "And if we run out of options?"

"As long as you can guarantee that I can blame everything on you so Spencer doesn't stay mad at me for the next year, I'm still up for being a decoy," she clarified. "We've got to catch this guy."

"I will take the blame."

"You better."

Eventually, they found everything about the guy. Garcia cross referenced this with that and then that with this to find out the guy's name was Leyton Hart, his father died when he was young and his mother was an addict who he was still living with despite the fact he was raised mostly by his next door neighbour, a young girl that was only a few years older than him. This neighbour, who they became aware was once called Isla Wiley, was the first victim. She was Y/N's doppelganger.

Infuriatingly, the only thing they couldn't find was where the hell he was now. He wasn't at home, nor at the smart car customer help desk he worked at. They checked his credit cards, they tried calling his cell, they checked with his boss and his mum, nothing.

"You think he's left the area?" Derek asked.

"It's not impossible," Emily replied. "He went dormant for months once we'd caught his scent, he may be prepared to do it again."

Spencer began, "If we could draw him out -" and stopped as soon as his brain caught up with his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Ignore that."

Rossi could see the silent conversation Y/N and Hotch were having and decided that he'd be the bad guy in this scenario to save both of them from doing it. "No, that could work, Reid. And we have an asset to do so," David announced, readying himself for whatever was about to happen to happen.

"Y/N is not an asset, she is a person! And we can't risk a member of our team in the hopes of catching this guy! Her being on this case is risky enough as it is!"

Reid's chest was rising and falling faster as he tried to keep his temper in check. His vision was getting more red by the second. His fingers were drumming against the table. The blood was rushing to his ears. He felt sick.

"We are not risking my wife's safety to catch this guy!"

Y/N rested her hand over Spencer's, her middle finger tracing over his wedding ring. "This could be our best shot," she said quietly, and he knew at that exact moment that the subject had been brought up with her beforehand and she hadn't mentioned it to him.

He felt sicker than he'd ever felt in his life.

"I don't care!"

"Spencer," Y/N said sternly, her tone made it very clear she was warning him to stop and think about this before he said something he couldn't take back. She squeezed his fingers gently, her thumb rubbing along his knuckles before he whipped his hand away.

"God, I can't believe you're putting this before everything else."

"We could save a bunch more women. Think of the families, Spencer. We have a chance to give them some peace."

"What about my family? Do you really think I'm going to just -" He was shaking his head as he spoke, trying his best to find a way to reason with her, to convince her to stop. He knew he was failing. And because he was failing, he decided to take himself out of the situation before he said something drastic and lost his job. "You know what, good luck, honey. I'll be waiting for you if you come home."

And he walked out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. Y/N rubbed at her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and letting out a groan. "Well, that went spectacularly," she mumbled, then rubbed her neck as she looked over at Hotch. "Sorry about that."

"He'll come around," Morgan said.

Prentiss agreed. "Eventually."

"If I had to guess, putting this bozo behind bars will speed that process up." Rossi reached across the desk and patted Y/N affectionately on the hand. "Trust me, I've been married enough times by now to know."

Raising an eyebrow, Hotch posed the question 'Are you still on board with this?' with just his face and only confirmed, "Let's start planning," when she nodded.

While the squad figured out the details, Y/N went in search of her husband. They may have differing opinions on what should go down but she still wanted to comfort him and make sure he was okay. She found him in the back seat of their hire car outside eating a sandwich, taking big aggressive bites, and staring off into the parking lot bush in front of the windscreen. He didn't even look up when he heard her open the door and sit in the seat on the other side of the car. He chewed, swallowed, and kept on looking.

Wordlessly, she slid across to the middle seat and let her head fall onto his shoulder. He didn't move, just kept on chewing, his Adam's apple bobbing as it swallowed the last of his food. After a while, he sighed and leaned back in the seat, resting his head on the headrest as he closed his eyes.

"I know you're worried, baby," she said softly, stroking his arm to get a little more of his attention. "But I can do it, and I will. I don't need you to protect me but I'm very touched that you did. Thank you for looking out for me."

"You're welcome," he replied bitterly. "I'd say you're all set to go then, yeah?"

"Babe..."

She smiled sadly, cradling his head in her palm. He'd been through a lot in his life, she knew that. She'd been there for a lot of it. A lot had gone on back when they were just pals. And even more had happened now they were something different. Going off the basis of his experiences, his concern was fully warranted.

"I'm so selfish. I care about you and I love you and I don't want anyone to touch a hair on your head. This guy... this guy shouldn't get to breathe the same air you do after what he's done." He opened his eyes and finally focused on her, the light of the setting sun illuminating his face in such a way that it made him look like a sad angel. "I can't lose you too, baby."

"If I don't, more women will die."

"If you die, my entire world ends," he choked out, his entire face contorted with misery. "It would be like the sun went out. As if I was a pontifex and my Goddess had been suddenly ripped from my hands, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Obviously, she couldn't guarantee her survival. They both knew that. Y/N closed her eyes and held her breath, trying not to cry as she felt him grip on her jacket, digging his fingers into her elbow as if to anchor her there. She couldn't bring herself to say anything though. She could hear the anguish in his voice, the horror of it, and it was all her fault for being born with the face she had.

The hand on her elbow moved down to find her hip as he pulled her closer into him, resting on her stomach when he was satisfied with the lack of space between them. She rested her head against his shoulder and let herself feel his pain.

"We'll get him," she whispered. "We'll catch this bastard. And we'll get through this."

Tilting her chin up, she caught his lips with hers in a gentle kiss and held on for just a moment before pulling back. "You had a club sandwich," she pointed out playfully, tasting what was left on his lips and feeling her smile broaden. "Making me kinda hungry."

"Let's go get you some lunch."

Before she had comprehended what he said, he was getting out and moving into the driver's seat. They left to get some food - getting in an order for what everyone else on the team wanted whilst they were there - and smoothed out their emotional spikes to settle into a more stable state to prepare for later on.

Then later came. Y/N had been dressed up in an outfit similar to one that Isla had been photographed in - a stripy shirt, denim dungaree and espadrilles - and told to phone the customer service desk for the smart car they'd given her for breakdown help. Once Leyton Hart, who'd managed to reroute the calls that were supposed to go to his work computer to his personal cell, had confirmed that he was on his way to the secluded patch of road Y/N had 'broken down' at, it was a waiting game.

Most of the team were not that far away, around 30 yards behind a thicket of trees. Far enough away to not be seen if he wasn't looking too hard and close enough that they'd be able to make it to help Y/N out in a minute if she needed it.

Sitting in the car, Y/N listened to the hum of the radio and let her legs dangle off the seat and out into the opened door, swinging them to the beat until Penelope warned her, "Incoming!" through comms and she stopped immediately. Y/N could feel him coming, sense him even though she couldn't see him just yet. "Here we go," Penny told the others, keeping her voice low and her eyes glued on the road ahead as his pickup truck came into view.

There was no mistaking the man in the truck. Y/N's gut twisted and she tasted bile in the back of her throat at the sight of him as he got out of the truck and strode towards her. She painted a smile on her face, greeting him with a friendly, "Hi, you are a lifesaver! This stupid car just -"

Before she could finish her sentence, he did something they never predicted he'd do and whacked her in the temple with a ratchet wrench. Y/N's body went limp and she slumped into Leyton's waiting arms as her vision went dark.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" was all Spencer could manage to get out of his mouth as he ran forward to reach her before she was placed in the back of the truck. Hotch raced after him and managed to tackle him to the grass before Leyton noticed them, which would compromise Y/N even further.

Spencer's worst fears were becoming a reality. A serial killer just drove off with the love of his life and his boss had prevented him from intervening.

However much time later, Y/N winced herself awake and looked blearily around. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but she knew for sure she was not in a good situation. She had a throbbing headache and her neck was sore from being arched over for what felt like hours. And she was on a very dirty and gross floor with one hand cuffed to a radiator. It was dark, which she thought was probably for the best for her headache, and cold. She was shivering as she tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes and get her bearings.

For now, she was alone.

There was no telling how long she'd been out for. Minutes? Hours? A couple of them? It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive and that she had to get out of here..Grimacing against the pain, she rolled onto her side and pushed herself to a sitting position. The world tilted a bit and she grabbed the edge of the nearest wall to steady herself. The cuffs cut into her wrists and her ankles were getting achy. Overall, it wasn't a great time.

Then, the sound of a key in a lock and the door to the warehouse creaked open, light from the outside glinting dully off the metal floor. "Hello Isla," a deep voice said. "Didn't expect you to be awake."

Going along with this fantasy of his would probably be best. That would give the team time to find them. If there was one thing Penelope was good at was finding a needle in a haystack and, by the look of her surroundings, they were a small needle.

Wherever she was, it was so basic that nothing really stuck out. There was only the radiator she was attached to, a sturdy looking wooden chair, and a cardboard box with a children's book on the top. No windows, concrete floor, metal door, and an industrial overhead lamp that Leyton switched on with a flick of his wrist.

"I knew you'd come back to me," Leyton said, a gleam in his eye. "I knew you would if I gathered enough souls to bargain. You said we could watch cartoons when you came back, can we watch cartoons?"

"Of course we can," Y/N said with a grin. She struggled to ignore the aching in her neck and the twinge in her arms and legs as she spoke. "We can watch whatever you want to watch."

"Whatever?"

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Leyton smiled, leaned his head in closer to hers, and whispered, "I'm so glad you're back." Y/N shivered and pushed away the sudden urge to puke, not only because his breath wasn't the best but this creep was so close to her face she could see his spit in his mouth. "You know, you're not going to leave me ever again, right?

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said softly.

Like a child, he jumped up and down on the spot. They'd classified this guy as an organised killer, a sophisticated guy that plans his kills and chooses his moments. But his current demeanour had proven otherwise. This guy was someone who had been stunted socially as a young teen and desperately needed this kind of affection and approval. Maybe he'd devolved.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't want to."

"You did what you had to. I understand that," she lied. "You were protecting me."

"Yes! I was! I'm so glad you can see that now!"

Y/N coughed, hiding the way her face fell by itching her cheek with her shoulder as soon as he looked away from her. As soon as he heard her cough, all of a sudden, he scrambled onto the floor and plonked his head down in her lap. "There, there, Isla," he said, stroking her thigh. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry."

Having a serial killer cuddle up to you was weird, to say the least.

"I f-forgive you," she stuttered, before looking down at him with shining eyes and hesitantly reaching her free hand towards his hair. His eyes widened and he leaned further into her hand as he waited for her to touch him. Her fingertips brushed against his thick hair as she caressed the top of his head.

They stayed in that position for more time than Y/N would care to admit.

There was a pang of something in her chest as she watched him nuzzle into her hand and close his eyes as if in bliss. She didn't have time to really feel any sort of pity for Leyton since the metal door suddenly burst open and Spencer came into view, his gun out in front of him.

"Step away," Spencer hissed as he came to a stop in front of her. His face was furious as he cocked his head to the side. "Keep your hands off her."

"But she's mine," Leyton said, a look of innocent bewilderment on his face that soon changed to mindless fury as he pulled himself free of her lap and charged at this random guy pointing a gun at him.

Instead of shooting the killer, Spencer chucked his weapon to the ground and swung at the guy, his fist connecting with Leyton's cheek and then getting another blow to his stomach as he doubled over. Spencer landed punch after punch after punch on the killer's face and body, and Leyton got a few good jabs in before he dropped like a sack of potatoes, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Yet, Spencer still wasn't done. He was vicious. It was cruel.

And it was the most spiteful thing she'd ever see her husband do.

Derek rushed into the room with Emily hot on his heels. Morgan got Reid by the waist and yanked him away from the fight just as he got another shot in. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed away from Leyton, who was coughing and spitting up blood onto the concrete floor. Spencer gave a look of disgust as he stepped away from the twitching Leyton and came to a stop in front of Y/N. His chest heaved as he wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, slumping to sit in front of her as he dropped to the ground.

"Hi honey," he said, leaning in and touching the bump on her forehead with his index finger. "You're bleeding."

"So are you."

"That was... that was..." He shook his head, not knowing how to describe the fight.

"It was," she replied. "I'm glad you won."

"Me too."

As Derek cuffed Leyton Hart, Emily was searching around for the keys to let Y/N out of her cuffs. The moment she was free, Y/N flung herself into her husband's arms and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You didn't sleep," she commented, seeing the heavy bags under his eyes and noticing how strong the scent of coffee emanating from him was. He always smelt a little like coffee but this was, BANG, right in your face and kind of overwhelming.

"Couldn't."

The floor was a thick layer of grime and old blood covering it so Y/N guided Spencer to stand and pushed him out of the door. In the heat of the moment, he seemed to be fine with all the germs but once his adrenaline depleted itself, he would get very agitated about it. She knew that for certain.

Soon enough, Hotch sorted everything out and after a quick trip to the medic, the couple were allowed to retreat to their hotel room to clean up and rest. On her way past her boss, Hotch stopped her to ask if she was okay, how many days off would she like and, "Who knew Dr Reid could be that - what's the word? - defensive?"

"Leyton Hart put his wife and child on the line, that's a lot to defend, I guess."

"Get some rest, L/N."

"Aye aye, captain."

They got to the hotel room in no time, both in desperate need for a reprieve from other people.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, his breath hitching as he spoke. "About everything. I just... I couldn't control myself. I don't know what happened."

"This is totally fucked up for me to say but you looked hot - totally scary and intense and, honestly, I could go through my life and be happy if I never saw that side of you again - but, yeah, kinda sexy," Y/N admitted, bending over to start the taps on the bath tub.

"Oh. I, uh, I don't know how to compartmentalise that."

"That's okay. I don't either."

After having a preliminary shower to get most of the dirt off before Y/N got in the bath, she sunk into the warm water, leaning her head back against the tile wall as she closed her eyes and let the stress of the day wash over her. She tried not to disturb Spencer who had decided that it was now his turn to take a shower. He would be scrubbing himself with antibacterial soap for the next few minutes so she could just lay back and listen to the odd sounds her husband would make every now and then as he scoured every inch of his skin with his silicone bath brush that he brought with them wherever they went.

If he was on a deserted island - first off: sand, ew - and he could bring one thing, he'd probably bring that brush. ...Or a flare gun.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and knelt on the tiles next to the bathtub, looking at her as she lay there, soaking in the water.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"We need to talk about this, you know?" he retorted, running his hand down the length of her arm and conjoining their hands. He perched his chin on the porcelain. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he do anything that might've hurt the baby?"

"Not that I know of. We should make an appointment just to make sure."

Her thumb rubbed against his knuckles, hoping to ease some of the redness from his skin. "Let me kiss it all better, baby," she murmured, letting her lips fall to his bicep. Then to his forearm. The wrist. The palm. Then she turned his hand over so she could press gentle kisses to his busted knuckles. His fingers were long and slender and looked too delicate to hurt - or cause such damage - but they had, and now they were all busted up.

The few punches Leyton managed to get on him were mostly to the face. He had a black eye on the right and a red jaw on the other. Y/N was quick to cover those areas with love. Spencer watched her attentively, a million emotions and reactions dancing across his face as he tried to reconcile all the things he was feeling. But, for now, all he could do was accept whatever affection she thought he was worth.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, tasting the faintest hint of blood on her lips, then he kissed her again, and again, and again, until she was drowning in the taste of him and had to break apart for a moment to breathe. When they finally came up for air, Y/N guided her husband's head to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder, kissing his temple and running her fingers through his hair. They stayed like that, embracing in the bathroom, until the water grew cold and they moved their embrace to the couch.

Spencer pulled Y/N onto his lap, her knees digging into the crevice between couch cushions on either side of Spencer's hips as she settled in. He started by moving his hands up and down her back but couldn't resist the paternal urge to focus his attention on her stomach. His thumbs caressed the underside of her belly, sliding across the stretch of her bump.

For now, she'd been able to hide her pregnancy with baggier clothes but it was soon going to become apparent what was happening.

"I may have let it slip about little Reid to Hotch."

"Well, you're beginning to show and you've been very vocal about how hungry you always are in the office... I assume he already knew," Spencer reassured him, lightly trailing kisses down the side of Y/N's neck and pausing at her collarbone. "I'm sure he knew before we figured it out."

"I'm sure he did.”

She tilted his chin so he had to look into her eyes, smiling when he did so. "It's going to be okay, you know," she continued, eyes bright. "You're going to be a great dad, and we'll get through this." Spencer didn't respond but his eyes were so bright and full of love that she knew he heard her.

Y/N smiled wider, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in and pressed her lips to her husband's. It was a long, slow, tender kiss that said everything it needed to.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid

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loadedberetta · 4 months

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Berry baby🖤

I hope you're doing well and *remembering* to hydrate.

I was just talking with a friend and i find i slip into other languages expressions while I'm speaking or even typing - I'm a polyglot (I know a good few languages) including South African Sign Language. It certainly takes alot of people by surprise since it's not something I go around speaking about.

How would TF141 + Alex Kelle react with this given they never were explicitly told about this skillet before hand?

I hope you enjoy your festive season and find yourself surrounded by the most peace and happiness Love🥀

hi lovie!! (sipping on magnesium water as we speak!)

having dipped my toes in language learning too, I bow to you, polyglot friend~ holidays are hard, thank you for the encouragement, same goes to you! decided to turn them into drabbles, it was much fun, thank you for the req! alright, here is (my first req stuff ever)

141 + Alex react to: polyglot Reader

rating: M (language, light flirting?)

warnings: smoking, interrogation [military inaccuracies]

[series with random headcanons about specific situations (involving the reader) and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [pregnancy] [knife tricks] [drawing] [foreign language]

find me on ao3 // masterlist

Price

A small note was attached to your file that Price seems to have overlooked in the year and a half since you were under his command; in Laswell's handwriting, which John knew already from the countless similar notes she left for him throughout the years. Yet, this one stood out; sign language? And how many languages again? He made a mental note to ask you over grub the next day.

Breakfast was always fast; after first drill, but before the day really began. And always with your mates, switching languages with ease to accommodate new members and brothers passing through, just on transfer at the base.

Price always ate at a separate table, always. Sometimes alone, sometimes with some higher-ups. But this morning, he sat by your table, which opened up a seat for him. Everyone's body language shifted to accommodate him among you. He didn't speak, and the conversation between you and a temporary transfer settled back into a comfortable flow. His ears perked up to each sound he didn't seem to have heard from you, as they weren't part of the English phonemic system.

He himself muddled in French and some Arabic and harboured a basic understanding of Spanish since his time in Mexico, but your confidence and knowledge shone through the effortless speech. You and your speaking partner seemed to share a lighthearted conversation in a language he could only guess.

Soon, you let yourself notice his glances in your direction, often settling on your lips for short moments. Smiling to yourself, you finished your coffee as your deskmate excused themselves from the table, having emptied their tray.

Instead of turning to another group being taught foreign swearwords by a new recruit (to which you had to resist the urge to share your favourites), you lifted your gaze to meet Price's.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain?"

He chuckled, raspy.

"How did this never come up?" He asked without much sugarcoating.

"What exactly?" You chuckled.

"That you know about a dozen languages, including… South African Sign Language?"

A small smirk formed on your lips, proud of the recognition and attention to detail.

"I don't go around flaunting it." You stated plainly. "It's not even on my file, it's… just something I do, as a person; it's not for the military or anything."

"Hm." That was all he replied to that. "-but…"

"Yes?"

"Could be useful."

You could see he was pondering something.

"What if I told you I have a spot for you on officer training, hm? They're looking for… intelligence."

Ghost

( I cannot resist using this gif--)

Finding yourself behind a counter, taking orders from businessmen, assistants, and university students; not exactly how you imagined life in the big city. It was a second job of sorts, only part-time, as you couldn't squeeze in anything else besides the academy.

It was a busy morning, your shift covering the entirety of it before classes began that day. The line was only growing, and the other shiftie beside you was struggling; some foreigners complained about their order, and another pair of customers speaking a third language just rolled up to him, totally overwhelming him. Calling out a name for an order, you waved to the next in line (a sweet old immigrant lady, with whom only you could chat out of the whole team, easily overstepping the language barrier), and told her to just hang on for a moment.

You addressed the complaining couple in a well-mannered way, quickly sorted out their issue with a complimentary muffin and a cookie, and switched languages with ease, freeing your shiftie partner from the agony that was speaking any other language than English for him.

The rush died down just the slightest after a few more hectic minutes, and the shiftie went for a break when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the counter as you turned back with another order.

He gave your unit a few lessons this semester and remarked on your capabilities in strategy and urban warfare. You remembered him, and it seemed like he did too.

The usual balaclava he wore when instructing was replaced by just a black cloth mask hooked behind his ears, revealing a few more details about his face than you'd seen before.

"Sir." You addressed him, conveying you respected the civil setting, yet communicating your respect toward him considering your short but memorable history. "What can I get you?"

"Didn't know you were fluent in that many languages." He remarked after describing his simple order, making your cheeks heat up at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing, really…" You tried brushing his words off with words that came out shakier than you meant to sound.

"How many do you speak?" He asked with a small tilt of his head.

His eyes widened for a moment at your answer. "…and South African Sign Language."

A chuckle, something you'd never heard from before stuck in your ear for a good few seconds, drowned out by the milk frother.

"I don't do lesson plans, you know?"

"What?" You lightly shivered with excitement at the fact how interested he seemed in your knowledge.

"Would you mind, you know… Doing a lesson? Sign language is a valuable asset. I can give you some time next Friday."

"I…" You stuttered a bit at his proposition.

"Nothin' fancy, don't worry, darling. Just some basics."

"Alright…" You found yourself saying after a moment when the light ringing in your ears faded.

"Maybe even tell your story… I'd be interested for sure."

And with that, he grabbed his coffee from your hand, putting some coin on the counter with the other, and was out the door before you could say anything else.

Alex

He didn't talk. Not to ULF soldiers, and bravely (maybe stupidly) not even to Alex. Farah's request for you to get to the scene was… interesting. She stated her presence was required in another part of the country, and in her encrypted message, she explicitly voiced how your assistance might help ULF break the man.

So you came. Alex greeted you on the airstrip with a smile and a hug, his frame towering over yours.

"Alex, a pleasure to see you." You smirked as the two of you walked back to the nearest building.

"Can only say the same." His tone was warm and welcoming, a staple to him. "You hoping to crack our guy?" He asked you directly about the matter at hand. The small carrier that brought you here whirred into the air in the distance.

"Exactly."

"And how's that gonna go? We haven't even gotten a word out of him, let alone information."

"That's why I'm here now."

"The stage is yours." He opened the door of the large building to you and ushered you inside.

A few hours later, he stood by your side, as you tried to find a crack on the prisoner's tough shell. After many unsuccessful attempts, the tired captive let his head fall, a small curse leaving his lips. Your ears perked, and Alex could only watch the scene unfold in front of him.

In a language he only heard on the TV before maybe once, you asked the prisoner something, to which he immediately lifted his head in confusion. Pressing on, you visibly exerted yourself to gather as much as you could on the man before he would shut down again.

After a few exerting rounds of questions, you stood up abruptly, and nodded for Alex to come with you. Closing the door to the room, you turned to him, but he spoke up faster than you did.

"What is and where." He crossed his arms and awaited your answer with a bite to his lip.

"I don't know yet, but he talked about a car rigged with charges, but he's going to shut down soon, fuck…" You clicked your tongue, exhausted from the rusty pieces of knowledge forced to work in your brain at high speed.

"Hold on… He had a detonator on him when we apprehended him… Are you sure it's a car?" He backed away, looking as if he was about to bolt somewhere.

"White, small, local model." You shouted after him as he disappeared down the corridor.

You stepped back into the room and closed the door behind yourself.

A day later, you were there as Alex switched the trigger, and the car about a mile away from your position, deep in the desert blew to pieces as the two of you watched.

"How the hell did you know from a damn single word?"

"It's a local dialect, where I happened to have stayed for a while, it's not important…" You dismissed the seemingly unimportant detail with a wave of your hand.

"So we just happened to luck out on this one?" He chuckled and turned to you.

"Well, I could have tried about half a dozen more languages, but hey, if this one worked…?" You looked up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips up.

"And Farah knew this?"

"Her hunches are never wrong." You shrugged.

"Yeah… You're right about that."

Gaz

You and Kyle bonded during selection. Both of you were younger than most of the cadets, and yet, somehow competed for top scores. It wasn't even a test of endurance, it was a test of who could beat the other. DS were amused by how easily you passed hurdles, just to be better than the other one, paying no attention to other competition.

And after that, the two of you became inseparable. Like people who'd known the other since childhood or had been good neighbours for years. Phone calls when oceans separated the two of you were very common, and sometimes you found eachother in inopportune situations; yet these calls only strengthened your friendship. Keeping each other company, and slowly growing to know more and more about the other.

It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, catching the first plane when you finally got your leave. A country you've only seen in books so far, but a language you'd already mastered.

Kyle called you when you were out on the first morning, trying to fetch food from a market.

"Good morning, Kyle." Your chin was visible in the frame of the phone, and the blue sky above you.

"Morning yourself, except it's the middle of the afternoon. Where are you?" He asked in a surprised tone, his face coming closer to the phone, trying to discern some landmarks around you, to no avail.

"In a market. Got on a plane yesterday, and--" You quipped, looking down at Kyle, who was visibly confused about your whereabouts.

"Jesus wept, bug, you're insane…" He shook his head, almost missing as you started haggling, faint voices breaking through the line.

He quieted down and leaned forward on his couch to listen. For a good minute, he couldn't understand a word you were saying, only listening to your voice flow, lips dancing in unique patterns. Soon, you held your quarry up to the camera, something bundled in white wax paper.

You sat down and finally positioned your phone to show your face and upper body, and a bit of the busy scenery behind you.

"You're a wizard, you know that?" He laughed and lounged back again.

"A party trick if you will. I know a few more." You shrugged, and bit into your breakfast.

"Few more?" Kyle repeated, chuckling in disbelief. "What else, like, sign language?"

"Actually…" You laughed, somewhere in the background a bell tolled distantly.

"No fucking way." Kyle licked his upper lip and looked away. "I thought I knew ya."

"There's always more to know, friend."

Soap

Sharing a room with Soap was… an experience. He was a sound sleeper, not causing much fuss at night, so you were content in that regard. The other departments, however, not much.

He was unruly, to say the least, and it took some time to get accustomed to his schedule. One of you being a morning shower type in opposition to the other being a night shower person caused some friction in the beginning, but like everything else, it settled after a while. After all, this was supposed to last only the three months the unit was stationed at this base.

You hadn't known eachother that well before, but that changed at around the one-month mark.

Having been given a few hours of phone time by Price days before for this afternoon, you set up to call your best friend, a few thousand miles setting the two of you apart. You haven't talked in way too long, and before you knew it, you'd already spent an hour talking and laughing over Facetime, phone propped against the metal grate by the foot of the bottom bunk, you sitting on the mattress.

You acknowledged Soap coming in a few times for his notebook, cigs, or to grab his coat from the back of the chair, but didn't pay it much attention, being so absorbed in the conversation with your favourite human on the other end of the line, confined to the little screen by the foot of your bed.

It was already dark outside, when Soap burst into the room, and put his finger to his lips, signalling you to be silent.

Looking down at your best friend "I need to be silent. Wait a bit."

To which they replied with an "Okay, I'll wait."

Soap flicked the light off, and a few moments later, a few people passed the room; you could hear the footsteps.

"Random inspection." He whispered as he climbed up into his bunk, trying to remain silent.

Praying your room wouldn't be chosen, as you were still in uniform instead of nightwear, you settled on your mattress too. An idea flashed through your head, and turning the brightness on your screen to high, you continued your conversation over Facetime in silence, your best friend quickly catching on to what happened, as you explained the situation in sign by the dim light.

A few minutes later, Soap climbed down from the bunk and switched the light on.

"Gaz texted, they moved on to the next building… what are ya up tae?"

He looked back at you, as you caught his glance too while signing.

"Sign. South African Sign Language. I'm talking to someone."

"Right…" He chuckled bemused, and headed out again, probably for a cig with some other delinquents, to which you shook your head with a smirk on your lips.

Later that night, when you settled to sleep for real on your back, his overgrown mohawk poked out followed by his head from above you, overlooking you on your bed.

"'eard you speakin' earlier… And that sign language too… So… Mind teachin' me some?"

(alright that's all, hope you liked it, goodnight)

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scientia-rex · 7 months

Note

Hey saw your post about weight loss and I'm a big fan and it makes total sense. Just curious how being overweight affects pregnancy. I feel like because I'm overweight I'm going to have a high risk pregnancy. Not pregnant at all right now but it's been on my mind lately

Oh boy. Weight in pregnancy is a WHOLE other topic, and not in my wheelhouse--I haven't delivered a baby in over two years now. (They love to show up at 3am and I love sleeping.) The short answer is that if you gain more than the recommended amount of weight during pregnancy, baby is also likely to be bigger, and that's a problem because your pelvis is not capable of expanding, so you run a higher risk of shoulder dystocia, which is where the baby actually jams in the pelvis on the way out, which is typically fatal to the baby within 5 minutes if we can't get them out because they can't breathe and their umbilical blood supply is cut off so the oxygen is not available. There is also a higher risk for gestational diabetes, aka high blood sugars in pregnancy, which also raises the risk of a larger baby. HOWEVER, a lot of this raises questions current research doesn't really answer--are fatter people at more risk in pregnancy because they're fat, or are they fat because they're high-risk? And a lot of people who deliver babies, whether they're OBs or family medicine or midwives or, God help us, lay midwives, will go full-on raging fatphobia, which makes it difficult to parse out genuinely helpful advice from terrible bullshit. Obstetrics in general is the least evidence-based medical field, because no one wants to be the asshole who ran a study that somehow hurt babies, so instead we just fumble around blindly in the dark a lot of the time going "well this SHOULD work" and hoping. Also, racism! Huge thing in obstetrics. Black women have 4 times the risk of dying in pregnancy/childbirth as white women, and of course racism and fatphobia dovetail, where fat Black women get treated particularly badly by the medical establishment.

Long story short, the best way to prepare for possible pregnancy is to take the best possible care of YOU--that means exercise and eating lots of veggies, not because that will make you thin, but because it improves your blood vessel and heart health, your bone health, your stash of nutrients that baby will raid during development, your muscle strength, and so on. And take the time BEFORE you want to get pregnant to find a doctor who delivers babies (whether that's an OB/GYN or a family doctor) who treats you like a human being.

And, controversially, I do think it's best to have a doctor for most pregnancies. Not because midwives can't provide excellent care, but because obstetrics is all about the situations where something goes wrong, and we are very bad at predicting who will have something go wrong. The worst delivery I was ever in looked fine on paper. First-time mom, dilated fine, pushing went great, no problems on the fetal heart monitor, baby descended just fine. Then baby crowned, got shoulder dystocia, my attending had to take over for me and do the maneuvers to free the baby, baby comes out and has to go straight to resuscitation, and I look back over at mom to realize more blood is coming out of her vagina than should immediately after delivery, by A LOT, and we almost had to call a massive tranfusion protocol for her. She hemorrhaged 2 liters of blood in minutes. Then she developed post-partum preeclampsia, which can be fatal if you don't have medical management right there. We had to put her on a magnesium drip to prevent seizures. That was the worst delivery I ever did, and I'm counting the 17-year-old primipara (first-time mom) I worked with while a med student, who delivered in the back-ass of nowhere, spoke Spanish only with an attending doctor who spoke English only in a hospital that didn't bother with interpreters until active labor, and needed forceps, a technique fewer and fewer doctors even practice. No epidural. Forceps without an epidural is, no joke, something that scares me to the point where I simply would not do an unblocked birth.

One of the major causes of maternal death is hemorrhage. If you have an IV in someone's arm pouring in fluid, you can survive with as little as about 1/7th of your original blood. Red blood cells can do a LOT of heavy lifting. And that buys you time for someone to get up to Labor & Delivery from the first floor with the on-hand packed red blood cells that then go into the IV and save your life. Blood transfusions are life-saving, and they are life-saving every single day in the US.

And hemorrhage risk goes up with subsequent babies. Someone giving birth for the first time is at higher risk for a lot of things, but someone giving birth for the 5th time who figures they're OK with a home birth because their other births went fine can bleed out in minutes.

I don't like or trust the medical establishment, and I think OB care has a LONG way to go in the US, because we create PTSD in about 11% of people who give birth. Maternal PTSD is far more prevalent in the US than combat PTSD. I would still have a medical doctor be my obstetrical care provider, because I don't want to die like that.

#the attending dr. kristophine #birth tw #blood tw

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theoceanoasis · 3 months

Note

Hot Rod is pregnant and having cravings.

"Soundwave?"

"..."

"Soundwave?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake."

"Wha?"

"Soundwave?"

"Hot Rod what is it? You should be sleeping."

Soundwave gave him a tired look as he tried falling back asleep.

"I'm hungry."

He crossed his arms looking upset.

"Okay..."

"I want Magnesium drops."

"Go to sleep."

Soundwave pressed his face into a pillow ignoring him.

"Soundwave?"

"..."

When he recieved no response he started crying. Which woke Soundwave up.

"Hot Rod are you okay?"

He tried reaching out and touching him however Hot Rod turned away sobbing.

"You don't love me anymore because I'm sparked."

"Of course I still love you."

Soundwave reassured hugging his mate.

"No you don't. You think I'm fat, ugly and annoying."

"You are none of those things and you know I don't think that."

"Yes you do."

Hot Rod cried.

"That's why you won't get me magnesium drops because you want me to starve. You hate me."

Hot Rod wailed curling into himself. He rubbed Hot Rods back.

"I'm sorry. I was just tired I didn't mean to be dismissive. I'll get your Magnesium drops."

Hot Rod sniffled.

"Okay..."

"I'll be back soon."

He kissed Hot Rods forehead and then practically fell out of bed as he got up still a little asleep.

He knew Mirages was still open this late and they'd have Magnesium drops. Going there he quickly grabbed it and came back.

When he got home he gave it to Hot Rod who cried this time in happiness as he took the bag. He quickly devoured it and then looked up at him. Arms outstretched he asked to be cuddled.

Getting into bed he pulled Hot Rod closer and cuddled him. Putting a protective hand on his bump.

"I love you."

Hot Rod whispered before falling asleep. He smiled even though Hot Rod could sometimes be a lot during his pregnancy. He wouldn't have it any other way.

#transformers #soundrod #soundwave #hot rod #transformers cyberverse #rodimus #cyberverse soundwave #hot rod x soundwave

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nutrition-expert · 2 years

Text

youtube

Importance of Magnesium in Pregnancy for Leg Cramps

Magnesium supplements during pregnancy helps in treating leg cramps. Doctors prescribe magnesium sulphate (MgSO4) for eclampsia and preeclampsia. Magnesium in pregnancy plays an important role in maintaining normal blood pressure, preterm labor and other complications associated with pregnancy. In addition, it supports your baby's bone development during pregnancy.

#Magnesium in Pregnancy #prenatal multivitamin #prenatal pills #prenatal vitamins #Youtube

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creoterative · 2 years

Text

Terasaka Gang Incorrect Quotes

I’ve always loved this Anime so much, I recently watched it again and thought I’d make this with my favorite part of the whole show - the gang of my favorite boy in the whole show. Enjoy this collection of chaos xD

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Terasaka: Nothing in life is free. Muramatsu: Love is free! Yoshida: Adventure is free. Hazama: Knowledge is free. Itona: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

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Terasaka: Bye Muramatsu! Bye Yoshida! Bye Hazama! Bye Itona! Bye Muramatsu! Yoshida: You said ‘bye Muramatsu’ twice. Terasaka: I like Muramatsu.

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Terasaka: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife? Muramatsu: Rude. Yoshida: That’s fair. Hazama: Not again. Itona: Are you going to want this back?

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Itona: What does 'take out' mean? Muramatsu: Food. Yoshida: Dating Hazama: Murder Terasaka: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

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Terasaka: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Muramatsu: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Terasaka: Three of us saw it, Muramatsu. How do you explain that? Muramatsu: *points at Yoshida* Sleep deprivation. *points at Hazama* Paranoia. *points at Itona* Delusional personality disorder.

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Terasaka: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff. Muramatsu: I witnessed the dumb stuff. Yoshida: I recorded the dumb stuff. Itona: I joined in on the dumb stuff. Hazama: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!

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Terasaka: Where's Muramatsu, Yoshida, and Hazama? Itona: They're playing hide and seek. Terasaka: Where? Itona: I don't think you get how this game works.

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Terasaka: I’m an idiot. Muramatsu: Yoshida: Hazama: Itona: Terasaka: Muramatsu: If you’re waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

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Terasaka: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything? Muramatsu: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies Itona: Socks are Feetie Heaties Yoshida: Forks are Stabby Grabbies Muramatsu: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties Itona: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies Yoshida: Stamps are Lickie Stickies Hazama, annoyed: You are disappointments

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Terasaka: What’s something you guys are better than Muramatsu at? Yoshida: Mario Kart. Hazama: Yeah, video games. Itona: Emotional vulnerability.

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Terasaka: Raisins. It's nature's candy.

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Hazama: I'm going to be an adult in 4 years and I only have a vague idea of what I'm going to do. Muramatsu: I’m gonna be an adult in less than a year and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Terasaka: I'm with you there... Yoshida: I'm an adult and I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Itona: Three types of people.

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Hazama: Look guys, I need help. Terasaka: Love help? Muramatsu: Financial help? Yoshida: Emotional help? Itona: Help moving a body? *Everybody looks at Itona* Itona: What?

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Muramatsu: Are we really going to keep Itona? Terasaka: We kept Hazama

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Terasaka: You're a lying piece of shit! Yoshida: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Muramatsu: I'm leaving and I'm taking Hazama with me! Itona, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

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Hazama: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell. Terasaka, Yoshida, Itona, and Muramatsu: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

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Terasaka: So oxygen went on a date with potassium, it went... OK. Yoshida: I thought oxygen was dating magnesium, OMG. Terasaka: Actually oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like NO. Itona: I thought oxygen had that double bond with the hydrogen twins. Muramatsu: Looks like someone's a HO. Yoshida: NaBrO. Hazama: I'm done with all of you.

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Hazama: What did you guys get in your yearbook? Muramatsu: 'Prettiest Smile' Yoshida: 'Nicest Personality' Terasaka: 'Most likely to start a bar fight' Itona: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

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Terasaka: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Muramatsu: Several traffic violations. Yoshida: Three counts of resisting arrest. Hazama: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Itona: Also, that’s not our car.

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Terasaka: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need! Hazama: To the city? Terasaka: Yeah, no matter what! Itona: Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly? Terasaka: I... I don't know! Muramatsu: Oh come off it, be serious! Terasaka: I am serious! Muramatsu: You're insane! Yoshida: Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved! Everyone: Terasaka: What??? Yoshida: Or maybe it was a basset hound! Muramatsu, panicked: YOU'RE ALL INSANE!

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Yoshida: Good morning. Muramatsu: Good morning. Itona: Good morning. Hazama: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit. Terasaka: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

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Terasaka, trying to convince Itona to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong! Muramatsu: And loud! Yoshida: And grumpy! Hazama: And oblivious to reality! Itona:

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Terasaka: You know what I learned from my friendship with Hazama? Yoshida: There’s no such thing as too mean? Itona: Never let your friends know for sure if you like them? Muramatsu: Always hold a grudge?

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Yoshida: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Yoshida, to Muramatsu: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Terasaka, to Itona: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Hazama: There are two types of people.

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Terasaka: Uh, Muramatsu? Itona is in the pool and I don't think he's waterproof. Muramatsu: What? Hazama: I think he meant, Itona is drowning. Muramatsu: WHAT?! *Meanwhile* Itona: *is drowning* Yoshida: OH MY GOD, ITONA! KEEP SWIMMING! Itona: I can't swim, dumbass— *sinks* Yoshida: ITONA!

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Hazama: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends. Itona: ... Your what? Hazama: My friends. Yoshida: Is she saying “friends”? Muramatsu: I think she's being sarcastic. Terasaka: No, no, no, this is delirium, she's cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Hazama! All of your friends are in this room.

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Terasaka: Anyone d- Hazama: Depressed? Muramatsu: Drained? Yoshida: Dumb? Itona: Disliked? Terasaka: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...

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*the squad is at a dinner party but someone has been murdered* Itona: You’re acting pretty carefree for someone who’s life’s at stake. Who’s to say you aren’t the killer? Hazama: It’s a murder, not a tax audit. I’ll be fine. Terasaka: What about Yoshida? Nobody ever suspects Yoshida! Yoshida: Well what about Muramatsu? He has a gun! Muramatsu: Itona has a knife. Itona: Yeah, for fun, not for murder! *stabs Terasaka in the arm*

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Yoshida: Are oranges named orange because oranges are orange or is orange called orange because oranges are orange? Muramatsu: Which came first, the orange or the orange? Itona: Orange was first used to refer the fruit 1280 years ago but was not used as a color until 1000 years ago. Hazama: What was the color called before then? Terasaka: There was no color, duh! Everything was black and white!

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Itona: Terasaka is late again. Muramatsu: How did this happen? I called him at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11. Yoshida: I printed up a fake schedule for him saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon. Hazama: I set his clock to say PM when it’s really AM. Itona: Oh boy. We may have overdone it. *Terasaka bursts through the door* Terasaka: WHAT TIME IS IT?

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Itona: How do you connect with a fictional character? Yoshida: What? Terasaka: What? Muramatsu: What? Hazama: *pulls up a 500 slide presentation* I'm glad you asked.

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*The gang's thoughts on stabbing* Yoshida: Would never stab anyone. Muramatsu: Would stab someone in retaliation. Terasaka: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first. Hazama: Would stab without warning. Itona: Would stab as a warning.

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Hazama: Where’s Terasaka? Yoshida: Doing stuff. Hazama: I don’t like the sound of that. Where’s Muramatsu? Yoshida: Trying to stop Terasaka from doing the stuff. Hazama: And Itona? Yoshida: Trying to stop Muramatsu from stopping Terasaka from doing the stuff. Hazama: I see. And what are you doing here, Yoshida? Yoshida: I’m supposed to stop you from stopping Itona from stopping Muramatsu from stopping Terasaka from doing the stuff.

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Terasaka: I give up. I am so tired. Muramatsu: Get the emergency supply! Yoshida: *carries Hazama and places her in front of Terasaka* Hazama: *smiles* Terasaka: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

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Itona: Is stabbing someone immoral? Muramatsu: Not if they consent to it. Hazama: Depends on who your stabbing. Terasaka: YES??!!?

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Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Terasaka, with Yoshida and Hazama behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Terasaka: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Terasaka: Muramatsu FUCKING FELL OFF!

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Hazama, watching Terasaka & Yoshida panic : What's going on? Muramatsu: Terasaka is having a midlife crisis and Yoshida is just having a crisis.

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Muramatsu: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. Yoshida: Uh, Terasaka and Hazama are not getting along. Muramatsu: They’re not trying to kill each other. Yoshida: You may have a point.

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Muramatsu: I truly believe that water can solve all your problems. Yoshida: Weight loss? Drink water. Terasaka: Clear skin? Drink water. Hazama: Want to get rid of someone? Drown them.

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Hazama: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective? Muramatsu: *crouches down* Yoshida: *kneels down* Terasaka: *sits on the floor* Hazama: Hazama: I hate all of you.

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Terasaka: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute. Muramatsu: No, that's not how you make cookies. Itona: FLOOR IT!! Terasaka: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!? Muramatsu: yOU'RE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN- Terasaka: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES! Yoshida: DO IT! Muramatsu: NO-

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Yoshida: My stomach growled super loud in French. Yoshida: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Muramatsu: Bonjour. Terasaka: Le growl. Hazama: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

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Yoshida: We might have gotten into a bar room brawl back in the city. Hazama: Well, that was entirely predictable. Yoshida: One of them punched a gang member. Hazama:Terasaka? Yoshida: Itona, actually. Hazama: Oh, that was going to be my second guess.

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*The gang when they drop food on the floor* Yoshida: Aw man. *Throws it away* Terasaka: Five second rule! Hazama: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor* Muramatsu: *Sobs on the floor*

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Hazama: What if people had food names and food had people names? Terasaka: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Hazama for dinner. Yoshida: What is wrong with you people? Muramatsu: Shut up, chocolate.

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Muramatsu: Oh god, she texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Terasaka. She's mad at you. Terasaka: No, it's Hazama. She's just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Hazama: And then I used a period so he'd know that I'm mad at him. Yoshida: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Hazama: I stand by my choice.

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Sugino: You deserve a reward for putting up with me. Kanzaki: You are my reward. *meanwhile* Hazama: You deserve a reward for putting up with me. Terasaka: True, you can be really difficult at times.

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Yoshida: What’s up with Terasaka? He's been laying on the floor for like….an hour now? Muramatsu: He's just a little overwhelmed. Yoshida: Why? Muramatsu: Hazama smiled at him.

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Terasaka: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? Muramatsu: Have everyone stand. Yoshida: Bring three more chairs! Hazama: The most important ones can sit down. Itona: Kill three.

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Terasaka: Yo is Hazama sleeping or dead? Muramatsu: Hopefully dead, I hated her guts. Yoshida: Yeah, so did I. Hazama: Okay first of all, fuck you-

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Terasaka: How did none of you hear what I just said? Muramatsu: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Yoshida: I got distracted about halfway through. Hazama: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

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Terasaka: You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of nachos. Muramatsu: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard. Yoshida: But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any nachos? Hazama: Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

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Terasaka, about Itona: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group. Yoshida: Are we stealing them? Hazama: New or used? Terasaka: Wonderful responses, both of you.

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Terasaka: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys. Muramatsu: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap! Yoshida: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!! Hazama: Lmao self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting. Terasaka: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

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Terasaka: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling? Muramatsu: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Yoshida? Yoshida: Probably “road work ahead”. Hazama: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

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Terasaka: Everyone, synchronize your watches. Muramatsu: I don’t know how to do that. Yoshida: I don’t wear a watch. Hazama: Time is a construct.

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Terasaka, setting down a card: Ace of spades Muramatsu, pulling out an Uno card: +4 Yoshida, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you Hazama, trembling: What are we playing

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Terasaka: I think we're missing something. Muramatsu: Teamwork? Yoshida: Cohesion? Hazama: A general sense of what we’re doing?

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Hazama: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Terasaka: When have I been paranoid? Hazama: Um, when you first met Yoshida you thought he was an undercover cop…? Terasaka: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Hazama: And last year you were sure Muramatsu was a mermaid! Terasaka: He hates wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! *Later, when Terasaka’s theory is proven wrong* Hazama: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Terasaka: I still think Muramatsu is a mermaid.

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Hazama: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Muramatsu: Fucking Terasaka and Yoshida were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

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Terasaka: HYDRATE OR DIE-DRATE! Terasaka: *aggressively throws water bottles* Muramatsu: Uh... what's up with him? Hazama: He's trying to yell mental health and wellbeing into us. Terasaka: I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU! Yoshida, crying: It's working.

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Yoshida: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything? Terasaka: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital. Yoshida: That wasn't an ambulance, I drove you. Terasaka: But I heard a siren. Hazama: That was Muramatsu. Muramatsu: Sorry, I got nervous.

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Terasaka: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Muramatsu: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel. Yoshida: A realist sees a freight train. Hazama: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

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Yoshida, teaching Muramatsu to drive: Okay, you're driving and Hazama and Terasaka walk into the road. Quick, what do you hit? Muramatsu: Oh, definitely Terasaka. I could never hurt Hazama. Yoshida, massaging their temples: The brakes. You hit the brakes.

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Yoshida: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Terasaka: Strong. Muramatsu: Weak. Hazama: An idiot, is what your are.

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Hazama: Sometimes I drink milk straight from the container. Terasaka: The cow?? Hazama: What? Muramatsu: Terasaka, W H Y?

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Hazama, watching Yoshida and Muramatsu fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? Terasaka, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Hazama: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three? Yoshida: Terasaka. Muramatsu: Terasaka. Terasaka: Me.

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Yoshida: We call that a traumatic experience. Yoshida, turning to Itona: Not a "bruh moment". Yoshida, turning to Hazama: Not "sadge". Yoshida, turning to Terasaka: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

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Yoshida: Where the devil is Hazama? Muramatsu: Well, it is raining outside... Maybe she melted? Terasaka: Shall I look outside for a pointy hat?

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*The gang is learning CPR on a test dummy* Yoshida: So, assessing the situation. Are they breathing? Terasaka: No, Yoshida. They are not breathing. And they have no arms or legs. Yoshida: No, that’s not part of it— Terasaka: Where are they? You know what? If we come across somebody with no arms or legs do we bother resuscitating them? I mean, what kind of quality of life do we have there? Hazama: I would want to live with no legs. Terasaka: How about no arms? No arms or legs is basically how you exist right now, Hazama. You don’t do anything. Yoshida: All right, well, lets get back to it. ‘Cause you’re losing him. *Terasaka pumps frantically* Okay, too fast. Everyone, we need to pump at a pace of a 100 beats per minute. Terasaka: Okay, that’s uh, hard to keep track. How many is that per hour? Muramatsu: How’s that gonna help you? Terasaka: I will divide and then count to it. Muramatsu: Right. Yoshida: Okay. Well, a good trick is to pump to the tune of ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees. Do you know that song? Terasaka: Yes, yes I do. I love that song. *clears throat, begins to sing* First I was afraid, I was petrified.

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Muramatsu: How late were you up last night? Terasaka & Hazama, in tandem: Me? Muramatsu: No, not you two. You stay up late all the time. Muramatsu, to Yoshida: You.

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Terasaka: Hey Muramatsu, wanna third wheel on my date with Hazama tomorrow? Muramatsu: Sure. Terasaka: Yoshida! Wanna third wheel on my date with Hazama tomorrow? Terasaka: Great! I've always wanted to go on a double date! Muramatsu & Yoshida: ... Hazama: Terasaka...

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Terasaka: I still don’t have a New Year’s resolution. Hazama: You could lose a few. Yoshida: You could be less lazy. Muramatsu: Don’t be such a bitch. Terasaka: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

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Muramatsu: I told Yoshida to grab snacks for everyone. Terasaka, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks? *Muramatsu, Yoshida, Itona, and Hazama raise their hands*

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Yoshida: *about Hazama and Terasaka* They make a cute couple, huh? Muramatsu: They certainly are standing next to each other.

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Terasaka: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours. Itona: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia. Hazama: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred. Yoshida: You guys are fucking terrifying.

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Muramatsu: LOWERCASE LETTERS ARE FOR THE LOWER CLASS! Hazama: And here we have a capitalist. Yoshida: Did you just- Terasaka: Let us all take a moment to appreciate that all of human history, human language, and the universe itself aligned to make this joke possible.

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Hazama, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it- Yoshida, whispering: Should we call the exorcist? Muramatsu, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick. Terasaka, appalled: Call the exorcist.

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Muramatsu: I just want someone to take me out. Yoshida: On a date? Hazama: With a sniper gun? Terasaka: Both if you're not a coward.

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Muramatsu, Yoshida & Hazama: *screaming* Terasaka: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Hazama?! Muramatsu: Wait, why are you asking Hazama that when Yoshida and I are also here? Terasaka: Because Hazama wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

#terasaka gang #terasaka ryoma #itona horibe #muramatsu takuya #yoshida taisei #hazama kirara #kanzaki yukiko #sugino tomohito #assassination classroom #assclass #incorrect quotes

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