#so not hearing from her when her surgery should have been over two hours ago? lol yeah deffo gonna freak lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wild-lavender-rose · 20 days

Note

Hi, I was just wondering if you're planning to do a part 2 for the Hawkeye story where the reader falls and gets hurt?

Hey! So, I was looking over that fic and realized that I promised a part two like, three years ago *face palms*. You are one of the many, many people who have asked me, anon and off, to write the second part of the story. So here we are! The long awaited part two of Falling. Enjoy <3

Falling (part 2)

Warning: description of injury, mention of surgery, cannon typical swearing, brief intense kiss

Time passed by without your notice. You existed in a haze, in and out of sleep as people existed around you, caring for your injuries. The pain that had been absent at first hit you like a bomb. You had a vague memory of screaming before they put you under, begging for the pain to end.

Three nails or four? You couldn't remember. Once, in the blurred existence of your concussion, you heard someone say five nails. Five nails buried deep within your thigh, extricated one by one in a three hour surgery. Twenty five stiches, that you knew for sure. You had asked Margaret once when you were lucid, watching as she changed your bandage with the discreetness of an expert nurse.

"Hawkeye did a great job," she assured you, with a kindness you didn't expect but gratefully accepted. "You'll barely have a scar."

Hawkeye had been there almost constantly. You didn't have to be awake to feel his presence. His presence felt like warm sunshine on a spring morning. You always felt safer, stronger, when he was around. If you had been in your right mind, you would have been embarrassed and ashamed because of his attention. But in your weakened state, you yielded to the attention.

At night, when you struggled to sleep from the pounding in your head, his fingers would card through your hair until you drifted off. He always whispered to you, careful to keep the noise around you lowered as you suffered through your concussion. He told you stories of his dad and things he would do as a boy. Some things were funny, some were sad. When you were awake you would thank him without meeting his eyes. And when you were resting, he would hold your hand. Once, you cautiously squeezed his finger, heart jumping when he squeezed them back.

You recovered over time, until you were well enough to sit in bed and eat the small meals that the nurses brought to you. Radar even brought you a piece of chocolate, and Klinger drove to a meadow three miles outside of camp just to pick you a bunch of wild flowers to put by your bed. Your vision was still blurry, so sometimes B.J. would read to you. Potter ensured that a screen was put up around your bed so that you could have privacy from the wounded soldiers. It felt nice to be cared for. But the best thing was being able to pretend, just for a while, that Hawkeye cared for you the most.

You were testing out your eyesight by trying to read one of Radar's bold printed comics when the sound of an argument burst into the post-op wing. It was Hawkeye and Frank.

"It's not my fault she couldn't keep her balance, Klinger's the one who,"

"Klinger didn't do one damn thing to make her fall, Frank. You were the one who told them to go up there."

"So?!" Frank's voice squeaked. "What should I have done, hang the banner myself?" He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

Footsteps sounded, heading towards your screened in bed. You dropped the comic book.

"Go near her and I'll hang you by your toes, Frank. She's my patient and I gave orders for no visitors."

That wasn't exactly true. When Hawkeye said no visitors he really meant no Frank.

"You can't scare me." Frank sneered. "You're just using her little fall as an excuse to have her all to myself. You can't fool me, taking all the night post-op shifts so you can be with her."

Your heart stopped and stomach twisted. Your fingers fisted the blanket, straining to hear more.

"Shut up, Frank." Hawkeye's tone was even and deadly.

Frank scoffed again. "With the way she looks at you, she probably fell just to get your attention."

"Leave. Now."

Frank was silent. Maybe he had finally noticed the dangerous edge in Hawkeye's voice. You couldn't breathe. The silence filled the room, their words thickening the air.

Finally, without saying a word, the footsteps turned and walked away, followed by an angry banging against the swinging doors as Frank left post-op.

The silence stayed thick and overwhelming. You looked down, feeling self-conscious in the big shirt you were wearing. Some of the buttons were undone. You fiddled with them, shaky fingers trying vainly to button the flap closed. Tears of embarrassment began to make hot trails down your face.

Hawkeye entered your little makeshift room. You could feel his gaze on you.

"I need to go." You whispered, voice cracking. "Back to my tent, away from here."

"You're not ready yet. Your stitches,"

"I'll take care of them myself." You dropped the buttons and tried to wipe your tears away. "Please let me go."

"I can't."

"Please."

The cot squeaked as Hawkeye sat down beside you. You dared to look up at him, surprised to find an expression on his face you didn't understand.

Moving slowly, Hawkeye reached out to cradle the side of your face. It was an action he had done many times when he thought you were sleeping. He leaned forward. Before you had time to think your lips touched and time stopped.

Hawkeye kissed you deeply, earnestly, with a love you had never wanted and desperately craved. Shock melted into relief. Your hands found his hair while his thumbs wiped the tears off your face, kissing him as if his taste was your air. He leaned against you, hands sliding down to your waist.

You gasped softly into his mouth as he eased you back onto the bed, breaking the kiss as your thigh gave a painful throb.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Hawkeye hovered over you, blue eyes full of concern.

You nodded, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Are you just trying to make me feel better?"

A soft smile softened his face. "I have many layers of intention."

"What does that mean?" You asked, expecting a joke.

"I love you."

You blinked, your fingers freezing against his shirt.

Hawkeye nodded, smile widening into a grin. "I do, sweetheart. I love you."

Slowly, you smiled back. "I love you too."

"Really?" Hawkeye looked as if he had just won the lottery, his grin making your heart beat hard and fast. "Well then," his grip tightened on your waist. "Next time you want to get my attention, maybe don't fall off a support beam. Deal?"

You blushed and nodded, smiling into another kiss.

And that was the day you and Hawkeye fell for each other.

Fanfic Masterlist

13 notes · View notes

chenfordspiral · 1 year

Text

home is where my heart is (you feel like home)

One month.

It’s been one damn long month since Lucy went undercover. Since she last saw or had any contact with her friends. With Tamara. With Tim.

She can’t remember a time when she’d been out of contact with either one of them for this long. Because she hasn’t. Even when her relationship with Tim was strained after Vegas, and she was at UC school, there had been a handful of text messages, checking in with each other after she’d asked about Kojo once. No, they didn’t talk much at work after, and definitely not outside of work until he’d needed spinal surgery. But at least they’d seen each other. At least they’d known that the other was somewhere nearby and safe.

Now, there’s no way of communicating with him. None. And she doesn’t like it. She wants to check in with him, ask how he’s doing. She desperately hopes that he’s doing okay. She knows that it can’t be easy to have her being gone for so long given his history with undercover work. She hates herself for being the reason he’s likely sick with worry every day. Which in turn worries her. Because he’s not himself when he’s worried and scared for someone.

She tries to ask her handler about him, but she doesn’t exactly know him well, so she always just says “I’m sure he’s fine” whenever she dares to ask. And then she's quick to remind her of the fact that that’s not what she needs to focus on. That the op should be the only thing on her mind. But that’s easier said than done. She's usually good at compartmentalizing, but she’s never cared about someone as much as she cares about Tim.

Frankly, she’s never been in love with someone like she is with Tim. Actually… she’s never been in love before Tim, period.

And because she’s not getting very far with the investigation, time passes excruciatingly slowly. One day after the other. Sunrise to sunset. Over and over again. Every time she checks the time, she wants to cry out in frustration because it’s only been minutes since she last checked, not a few hours like she’d hoped. She barely stops herself from going out and finding a way to just make one quick call to Tim, just to hear his voice for a minute or two. But she knows she can’t. She can’t risk blowing her cover and getting killed. Frequently contacting her handler is already hard enough. So she doesn’t go.

Another couple dozen sunsets and sunrises pass. She knows she needs to keep her focus, but she can’t stop thinking about him. About how he might be spending his time in her absence. Does he check in and spend time with Tamara so neither one of them feels alone? Is he hanging out with Genny and his nephews? Angela and Wesley and Jack? How much is he working? Is he taking care of himself? Is Tamara taking care of herself?

She wants to chide herself for getting lost in her thoughts so often. But she can’t help it. She’s restless, and bored. And a little annoyed with this op. She knew going into this that she might not get out of it for weeks, or even months. She knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to contact anyone but her handler. She knew it would be difficult. But she hadn’t anticipated for it to be quite this painful.

Is this really what she wants to do for the next several years of her life? The days feel endlessly long. It’s been about two months now, and yet it feels like it’s been twice that long. She’s slowly but surely going crazy. She knows she’s good at undercover work. But is it worth it if it means essentially putting her life on hold for weeks or months at a time? For putting her life with Tim on hold? For making him live through this again? For essentially abandoning Tamara for an undetermined amount of time every couple of months?

She wants a future with Tim. She wants a family, kids with him. She wants to spend all her birthdays with him, not be alone and depressed like she was a few days ago. Yes, she could do this for a few years, and then retire from UC when she’s ready to have kids. But what if, in the meantime, their relationship takes a hit because she’s rarely home? She doesn’t want to lose him. Ever. He’s the most important person in her life and she doesn’t want what happened to Nyla and her family, to Isabel, to Noah to happen to her and Tim. She couldn’t handle destroying the best thing that ever happened to her.

But it’s not just about him. Yes, she enjoys undercover work. The shorter ops really are exciting and nerve wrecking in a good way. But the long-term ops like this one, where she doesn’t know when it’ll all come to an end? No, she doesn’t like it. Not as much as she thought she would. This isn’t me, she can’t help but think. Being separated from everything and everyone she loves and cares about for long periods of time is not what she wants to do. Not anymore.

It was different before. Before she went UC as Nova and missed out on what turned out to be the last few weeks of Jackson's life. Before Tamara became such an integral part of her life. Before Tim and her took a leap and started dating. Before she knew what life with Tim would be like. Before she had a future that would include marriage, and kids, and the white picket fence and all that. Before she realized that she shouldn’t be doing this just because she still thinks she needs to prove herself. Before she realized that her heart’s not completely in it anymore because of all of those reasons. Yes, special assignments like this help with recognition and promotions, but it’s not worth it if it means sacrificing a part of herself. And she doesn’t actually need to prove herself to anyone, she knows her colleagues respect her. And that she’s a damn good cop.

And she knows that she really shouldn’t be thinking about walking away from UC work while she's undercover. But she still does. Not much else she can do anyway while Arcane is still MIA. So that’s how she spends most of her time when she’s not with the rest of Arcane’s guys and trying to get more insight into his operations.

Until finally. Finally, after close to ten weeks, she’s getting somewhere. Finally, Arcane shows up for the first time since she went under. Finally, she can let Jones know to start getting ready for a bust soon. It sounds easy, but it isn’t.

She imagined many different bad outcomes for her first real long-term assignment, but she never imagined any of them to become reality. She doesn’t know why, but Arcane is wary of her from the start. She doesn’t think he knows she’s a cop, but something doesn’t seem to sit right with him. She knows she can’t defend herself the way she could if she were in uniform, if she weren’t trying to protect her cover.

So she has to let him take her to god knows where. Has to let him have his guys try and “rough her up” a bit. And she has to let the window for her next check in go by. And the one after that. She knows that the LAPD won’t immediately go looking for her after one missed check in, but she hopes for it anyway. She doesn’t want to find out what else Arcane is willing to do to her. But she kind of does anyway.

To say that she’s relieved to see cops is an understatement. Even more so because these are her people. Angela and Nyla. Aaron, Grey, Nolan, and Celina. Tim. She feels her heart skip a beat when she sees him for first time in ten weeks. Ten weeks. But the joy is short lived. Because nothing about this op and Arcane has ever been normal.

She can feel the bullet piercing through her skin, followed by excruciating pain. She can see Tim hovering above her moments later, pressing his hands to the wound to try and stop the blood from oozing out. And it’s right in that moment, when she can see the fear and utter panic in his eyes that she knows she’s done. Any lingering doubts she had about quitting UC is gone from her mind.

She doesn’t ever want to see that look on his face again. Not because of her. She knows it might seem quick for her to decide to stop with UC after one long-term op gone a little wrong. But she’s had two and a half months to think about it. Two and a half months of missing her friends, who’ve become family over the last few years. Two and a half months of missing her pseudo sister. Two and a half months of missing Tim.

Two and a half months of wishing she could just go home to him. Two and a half months of not feeling like herself.

She barely registers the chaos around her. All she can hear are Tim’s continued whispers, telling her you’re gonna be okay and just keep breathing, love.

She knows she’ll probably be fine, but she was already weaker than usual and she’s losing a lot of blood, so she's fading fast. The next time she wakes up, she’s not surprised it's in a hospital bed. She’s been awake for all of two seconds, but she can already feel herself slipping again, pain meds undoubtedly responsible for her heavy eyes. But she feels a warmth on her right. A hand tightly holding hers. She knows that hand, that warmth. She opens her eyes a bit more and there he is. Tim. She smiles to herself and feels something inside of her settle as she looks at him. I'm home.

He's asleep. His head rests partially on her upper thigh and pelvis. His face is turned toward her, eyes closed, his breathing even. She wants to reach out and just touch him. But he has her hand in a death grip even in sleep, and her other is hooked to an IV and machines monitoring her vitals. She wants to sift her fingers through his hair, smooth down every crazy strand. She wants to play with the short hairs at the base of his neck, the way she often does when they’re enjoying a quiet morning in bed together or are cuddling on the couch watching a movie.

She knows they have a lot to talk about later, when she feels better. She knows he’ll probably try to fight her on her decision about UC work, even though she knows he must hate it. And it’s the knowledge, that absolute certainty that he would support her despite all his fears that makes her decision so easy.

She knows that not everybody will understand why she wants to stop. And that some might say she shouldn’t let her relationship with Tim influence her decision. But he is the most important thing in her life, nothing has ever mattered more than him, than them. So of course their relationship is a major factor in her decision-making. It’d be unfair to him if it wasn’t.

She’ll figure out what to do instead. She has plenty of options, after all. And she knows that Tim will help her with it.

But for now, she’ll enjoy just being able to look at him again, to feel his hand in hers again. She’ll enjoy being back at his side again. She’ll enjoy the feeling of having that weight lifted off her chest, of having her heart feel light again.

For the first time since she went under 71 days ago, she’s finally back to feeling like herself again.

Because she’s finally home again.

#Lucy's POV #spec fic for 5x21 & 5x22 #mychenfordstories

9 notes · View notes

leavesfromthesametree · 2 years

Text

7. Brian Anstey RSPB Conwy local

Photographed by Matt Horwood

What do you enjoy doing in your own time? I’d spent nearly 20 years caring for my wife who suffered a stroke so this is how I got involved with the RSPB. I would take her in the wheelchair to Conwy reserve at least once a week – to the coffee shop looking over the lower lagoon. These days I spend a lot of time over there walking around and that is the most important thing in my life at the moment. I go early and feed the birds and the robins come down and sit on my hand and they start looking for me – they bring other birds with them such as the little blue tit who has started to come over too. I can communicate with them and they communicate back with me. I have a big love for walking too – I had open heart surgery about two years ago and that’s where the reserve came in – it enabled me to build up my fitness again.

The staff at the reserve are wonderful – it’s like having another family. I came to Wales nearly twenty years ago and going to the reserve from the start. I’ve known most of the wardens there and they are all wonderful – on a personal basis. The volunteers have become good friends.

If you had to pick one thing, what are you most passionate about? I think this goes right back to my upbringing and I was born in 1937 – went through the world war. My father went away into the Navy and my mother was bringing up three boys. During this time of enormous stress due to the war, in a little place in Surrey – a rich area but we were in a small culdasack. You could wander around the woods for hours – we had access to these fields – the violet field for example. I remember climbing up a hill and at the top there was a huge beech wood and under this particular beech a badger had made a set but then abandoned it. And we used to go into there looking for the badger. I can remember the first time I saw a black cap – I was walking through the field by myself coming up to the old farmers gate and the posts on this particular gate was solid metal but hollow. As I got to the gate, there was this black cap with it’s nest - these are the memories that carry with me. Nature was so important to me. When I was 12 I won a prize at school and I took this book token with me to pick a book – the first book I bought was a beautiful huge nature manual about the natural world.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be? I would change this notion of 24 hour news channels. The instant availability of information comes too quickly and there’s far too much of it – this leads to mental health issues and depression. Most of it is about famine/wars/disease – the worst side of humanity. It’s always been there but now we are hearing so much about it instantly. I don’t think the human race should be receiving this amount of information. ***

7. Brian Anstey Mynychwr lleol RSPB Conwy

Beth ydych chi'n mwynhau ei wneud yn eich amser eich hun? Roeddwn i wedi treulio bron i 20 mlynedd yn gofalu am fy ngwraig a gafodd strôc felly dyma sut y gwnes i ymwneud â’r RSPB. Byddwn yn mynd â hi yn y gadair olwyn i warchodfa Conwy o leiaf unwaith yr wythnos – i’r siop goffi yn edrych dros y morlyn isaf. Y dyddiau hyn dwi'n treulio llawer o amser draw yn cerdded o gwmpas a dyna'r peth pwysicaf yn fy mywyd ar hyn o bryd. Dwi'n mynd yn gynnar i fwydo'r adar ac mae'r robin goch yn dod i lawr ac yn eistedd ar fy llaw ac maen nhw'n dechrau chwilio amdana i - maen nhw'n dod ag adar eraill gyda nhw fel y titw tomos las sydd wedi dechrau dod draw hefyd. Gallaf gyfathrebu â nhw ac maen nhw'n cyfathrebu'n ôl â mi. Mae gen i gariad mawr at gerdded hefyd - cefais lawdriniaeth agored ar y galon tua dwy flynedd yn ôl a dyna lle daeth y warchodfa i mewn - fe wnaeth fy ngalluogi i adeiladu fy ffitrwydd eto. Mae’r staff yn y warchodfa yn fendigedig – mae fel cael teulu arall. Fe ddes i Gymru bron i ugain mlynedd yn ôl a mynd i’r warchodfa o’r cychwyn cyntaf. Rydw i wedi adnabod y rhan fwyaf o’r wardeniaid yno ac maen nhw i gyd yn fendigedig – yn bersonol. Mae'r gwirfoddolwyr wedi dod yn ffrindiau da. Pe bai'n rhaid i chi ddewis un peth, beth ydych chi'n angerddol amdano fwyaf? Rwy'n meddwl bod hyn yn mynd yn ôl i fy magwraeth a chefais fy ngeni yn 1937 - es i drwy'r rhyfel byd. Aeth fy nhad i mewn i'r Llynges ac roedd fy mam yn magu tri bachgen. Yn ystod y cyfnod yma o straen aruthrol oherwydd y rhyfel, mewn lle bach yn Surrey – ardal gyfoethog ond roedden ni mewn culdasack bach. Gallech grwydro o amgylch y goedwig am oriau – roedd gennym fynediad i’r caeau hyn – y cae fioled er enghraifft. Dwi'n cofio dringo i fyny allt ac ar y copa roedd coed ffawydd enfawr ac o dan y ffawydd arbennig yma roedd mochyn daear wedi gwneud set ond wedi cefnu arno. Ac roedden ni'n arfer mynd i mewn yno i chwilio am y mochyn daear. Dwi’n cofio’r tro cyntaf i mi weld cap du – roeddwn i’n cerdded drwy’r cae ar fy mhen fy hun yn dod i fyny at hen glwyd y ffermwyr ac roedd y pyst ar y giât arbennig yma yn fetel solet ond yn wag. Wrth i mi gyrraedd y giât, roedd y cap du hwn gyda’i nyth - dyma’r atgofion sy’n cario gyda mi. Roedd natur mor bwysig i mi. Pan oeddwn yn 12 enillais wobr yn yr ysgol ac fe es â’r tocyn llyfr hwn gyda mi i ddewis llyfr – y llyfr cyntaf a brynais oedd llawlyfr natur enfawr hardd am fyd natur. Pe gallech chi newid un peth am y byd, beth fyddai hwnnw? Byddwn yn newid y syniad hwn o sianeli newyddion 24 awr. Daw’r wybodaeth sydd ar gael ar unwaith yn gyflym ac mae llawer gormod ohoni – mae hyn yn arwain at broblemau iechyd meddwl ac iselder. Mae'r rhan fwyaf ohono'n ymwneud â newyn/rhyfeloedd/clefyd – ochr waethaf y ddynoliaeth. Mae wedi bod yno erioed ond nawr rydym yn clywed cymaint amdano ar unwaith. Dydw i ddim yn meddwl y dylai'r hil ddynol fod yn derbyn cymaint o wybodaeth.

0 notes

uncpanda · 3 years

Text

Broken

Prompt: Where You Lead I Will Follow

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Warnings: references to sex, nothing explicit, injuries that lead to hospital.

AN: Enjoy, in honor of Aaron Hotchner appreciation week!

“I really think we should call Aaron.”

You glance at your sister. She’s worried. You can tell; she’s biting her nails and pacing around the room. You shake your head, “He’s on a case.”

“SO? You’re in a freaking hospital.”

You shake your head, “I’ll be fine.” You bury your head into your pillow as a fresh wave of pain rushes through you. This freaking hurts.

“Alright Mrs. Hotchner. It seems as though you have a pretty bad fracture in your arm. It’s bad enough that you’re going to need surgery. The sooner the better."

Yep. You’ve screwed up. You look at Jenna and hold out your good hand. She gives you a haughty look. One that says I told you so. And if you had two good arms you’d go ahead and swat her. But you don’t. You only have one and it’s busy calling your husband.

“Hotchner.” You can hear it in his voice. He’s tired. And from the few texts you’ve gotten in the three days he’s been gone, you know this is a bad case.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Your voice is a higher pitch than usual. You only do that when you have bad news.”

Sometimes you really hate being married to a profiler. “Don’t freak out.”

There’s silence, “What happened?” There’s a hint of panic to his tone now.

“I was bringing the groceries up to the apartment and the elevator was out, so I had to use the stairs. some of the neighbor kids had left some toys at the top of the stairs; I tripped on them, and fell down the stairs.”

“How bad is it?” There’s panic now.

You wince, “I have a concussion. And some bad bruising.”

“And?”

“And a bad fracture in my left arm. I need surgery.”

“I’m on the next flight out. Is the doctor there? Can I talk to them?”

“Aaron, you don’t have to fly home for this. . .”

“You’re my wife.”

“Yes. I remember the wedding and the vows.”

You can almost see him rolling his eyes, “If you’re hurt I’m coming to you.”

“What about the case?”

“The rest of the team is here. Can I please speak to the doctor?”

Wordlessly, you hand over the phone to Dr. Main. You listen as they explain everything to Aaron, and reassure him they aren’t taking you in for surgery right away. They want to watch your brain for a little while to make sure it's okay.

Eventually, your sister has to leave to go pick her kids up from school, and you’re left alone. You find yourself becoming more and more grumpy as the hours go along. You’re not allowed to sleep for more than two hours at a time thanks to your concussion, and your pain meds aren’t working, but you had expected that. They rarely worked on you.

It’s nearly two in the morning, when you feel the bed dip. You know it isn’t the nurse because she had just woken you up for a check thirty minutes ago. Your arm is wrapped with a splint for stabilization until you can have surgery which lets you look behind you. And there’s Aaron.

You smile as he wraps around you and he kisses you. It’s the best you’ve felt since you fell down those stairs. “You came.”

He snuggles in, “Of course I came.” You sigh, and he nudges you, “What’s wrong?”

“I feel bad, taking you away from the case.”

“Don’t. You’re my wife. You come first. If you need me? Or even if you just want me? All you have to do is call and I’m on my way to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Always.”

“Even if you have to take a train?”

“Of course.”

“What about a dog sled?”

He laughs, “Why would I take a dog sled?”

“You’re on a case where there’s snow.”

“Even a dog sled.”

You turn to face him, careful of your arm, “I love you, Aaron.”

“Love you too, angel.” He kisses you then, gently and slowly. It’s the best cognitive check

you’ve had so far.

“Are you going to sign my cast when I get it?”

“Absolutely.”

You laugh and drift back to sleep. You get woken up several more times, and Aaron is forced to wake up, too. In the morning he gets a clear look of how you might have downplayed your injuries. You have two black eyes, and your ribs are a dark purple. You’re lucky it’s mostly bruising. And Aaron is more than a little distraught.

They put off your surgery for another two days. It’s two days spent in the hospital, and Aaron sets up a little office there. He takes calls and works on his laptop. You watch a lot of TV, and when you get bored of that, Aaron climbs into bed and reads to you: Pride and Prejudice. You both love Jane Austen. And Pride and Prejudice had been one of the first things you bonded over.

When you’re finally cleared for surgery you ask your sister to come back to the hospital and stay with Aaron. While your husband is capable of terrifying a serial killer, he turns into an overprotective, anxious bear of a man when you’re hurt.

They let him walk back with you as far as he can go. He holds your good hand the entire time. If he slips in that he works for the FBI a few times and shoots the doctors a warning glare, you don’t say anything. Because if that makes it easier for him then you’ll take it.

You slip easily under the anesthesia and when you wake up you’re flying. And then you see Aaron. He’s so pretty. And he has a cute butt. You make sure to tell him that. His face turns red and he mumbles a thank you. You say other things, but you can’t remember what.

Eventually, you fall back asleep and then you wake up again and your mind is clear and your body is achy. Aaron and your sister are both there. “How’d it go?”

Your sister is holding back laughter, but before she can say anything Aaron says, “Surgery went fine. You’re going to be in a cast for at least eight weeks, and then you’ll have physical therapy.”

Your eyes slide back to your sister, “What is he not telling me?”

“Only that you’re hilarious when you’re high, and who knew Aaron was so good in bed?”

“What?”

“You were coming out from under the meds and you saw Aaron. You told him he was pretty and that he has a nice butt. You then told him to pull down his pants so the nurses could see. From there you went into great detail about several aspects of your sex life. And all I can say is if they were true, you’re very lucky, and you should also keep an eye on Aaron, because nurses have been flirting with him ever since.”

Your head snaps to Aaron, “I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I am so sorry.” You’re mortified.

He leans over and kisses your forehead, “It’s okay. We can just never come back to this hospital ever again. We’ll have to drive the extra ten minutes to the other one.”

You scoff, “We might have to move. New York City would be good. It’s so packed no one would ever find us.”

“You hate New York, and so do I. Remember when I got the offer to run the New York Office, and you threatened to divorce me?”

“That was a joke. This is real life. Please tell me no one got it on camera.”

Aaron lets out a chuff, “No. Thank God.”

Your sister leans in and nudges you, “But is what you said true?”

You look at her like she’s crazy, “I have never shared that part of my life with you, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Spoilsport. I’ll wear you down eventually.”

She goes ahead and heads out and you turn back to Aaron, “How accurate were the things I was saying?"

"Right on the money, they were the exact same things you told me after Valentine's Day weekend last year.”

You blush because the two of you had holed up in a hotel in the Poconos that weekend, and you hadn’t left the room. Aaron had rocked your world, and you liked to think you had rocked his too.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to fake our deaths and start over, Aaron. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, for real this time and simply says, “Where you lead, I’ll follow.”

You don’t really do that, but you do consider it, when you leave the hospital a few days later, and everyone is staring at Aaron’s ass. You take comfort in knowing that he’s all yours and that you’re never setting foot in this hospital again.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner reader insert #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #cm imagine #cm fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years

Text

You Have To Let Me Try

PART 2

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're waiting to hear news on Eddie in the hospital after you got him out of the Upside Down.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Just gonna say, I'm not a doctor so there may be some inaccuracies. After this, there's going to be a part 3 to kind of show the aftermath of it all. I'll be posting it soon so watch out for that. Thanks for reading!

At least two hours had passed since you'd brought Eddie in. You would know, since all you'd done was stare at the clock since you sat down. The doctors had told you that Eddie was actually still breathing when he was brought in, it was just so shallow that it would've been impossible to detect. However, that brought you little comfort because it didn't change the fact that he was still on the brink of death.

Nancy and Robin had left about an hour ago, asking Steve to let them know if anything changes. Dustin hadn't sat down the entire time, no matter how many times Steve had assured him that things would probably be fine. But you weren't sure that that was true. You saw the state that Eddie was in. There was no way he could survive that.

"You should've let me go with them." You suddenly said, not even bothering to look at Steve as you spoke to him.

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

"It would." You argued. "Because maybe it would be me in there and not him."

"Do you think that's what he would've wanted? (y/n), he's the reason you weren't involved in the first place."

You turned to look at him then. "What?"

"It was his decision to keep you outta this. He didn't want you anywhere near it, he wanted to make sure you were safe and far away from all of this."

"Yeah well I should've been there. It should be me in there."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? He didn't deserve any of this. His life was ripped away from him the moment Vecna killed Chrissy. He was forced into hiding because this whole damn town thinks he's a murderer. And then, he went to be the hero for the same town that hated him." You spat. "And if he even does make it through this, he's never going to be able to have a normal life. He's gonna have to ditch this place the second the cops show up. He doesn't deserve any of it."

"And you do?"

"I'd gladly take his place."

"We'll find a way to clear his name, okay?"

You simply offered him a shrug, because you didn't believe that. There wasn't a way to get evidence that this wasn't him. No one would believe it was some asshole from the Upside Down that'd done all this. Even after the entire town had opened up, everyone deemed it an earthquake. There was just no way Eddie's name would be cleared. He'd be on the run for the rest of his life.

"Excuse me?" A doctor suddenly called, looking over at Steve as he stood up to speak to her. "Your brother, Mike Harrington?"

"Yeah?"

"He's out of surgery. He's heavily sedated but he's stable."

"Can we see him?" You asked, standing up from your chair now.

She turned to look at you with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's family only at the moment."

You nodded before sitting back down and watching Steve follow the doctor to Eddie's room. After a moment, you started to cry. He was alive. He was okay.

[Main Masterlist] [Eddie Masterlist]

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington #dustin henderson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #st imagines #joseph quinn

143 notes · View notes

cjjohansson · 3 years

Text

YOU'RE IT FOR ME

SUMMARY ; you and Natasha argue over your mission gone wrong.

supersolider!reader x natasha romanoff

angst/fluff.

fighting/blood/injury/swearing word count;3.4k - this is my first ever attempt at writing anything. im so sorry if its terrible.

As always Steve woke you up at stupid oclock in the morning to brief you on a quick unexpected intel mission. He told you the base you were being sent to has not long been abandoned and if anyone was there, to eliminate the threat like you always do. Lucky for you, you had super-solider serum running through your veins so this mission was simple and easy for you to complete alone. You only had to retrieve some files on HYDRA creating another super-solider serum.

However Natasha wasn’t too happy about you being woken up so early meaning she had to wake up to a cold bed and you were nowhere to be seen throughout the whole compound. She looked around for you everywhere only to end up running quite literally into Steve, he obviously knew who she was looking for and finally spoke up, “Oh, if you're looking for Y/N, they went on a quick mission.”

“What do you mean a ‘quick mission’, they would have come to say bye?” Natasha responded suspiciously due to the fact that you would never leave without saying bye or giving her a quick peck on her lips regardless of how long the mission would take.

“A quick intel mission, the only person I could see who had potential in succeeding was them. Woke them up 3 hours ago, they should be back within 2. They’re fine Natasha, you don't need to worry.” Steve thought to quickly remind her that you were more than capable than going on a mission alone and that you certainly didn't need to be worried about, you’re a super-solider for god sake.

“OK, just next time notify me too when they’re going so I'm not walking around looking.” Natasha walked away straight after that proceeding to the training room to blow off some steam about the fact that you didn’t say bye.

Meanwhile

you had got to the base a little over 2 hours ago, and when Steve told you this base was abandoned you had no idea why you actually decided to believe him. The base was in fact NOT abandoned and within the first 10 minutes of you slowly making your way to the base from the quinjet you was swarmed with at least 10 HYDRA agents. You worked as quickly as you could taking out the threats left right and centre with your guns and some quite literally being thrown straight into some trees. You managed to get the agents down in record time, you was quite impressed with yourself to say the least but you knew you should call for backup, you reached for your comms only to be met with a sickening buzzing sound surrounding your ear drums, you threw your ear piece onto the floor and just continued towards the base. At the end of the day you still had a mission to complete after all.

You finally made your way into the base to see that maybe Steve was right about one thing: the base itself was abandoned but the surroundings were not. “Idiot” you thought to yourself about Steve sending you on a mission with not all accurate information.

You’re making your way through the base using your enhanced hearing for anything that doesn't sound right, guess it's somewhat of your lucky day when you hear nothing so you continue your path down the long narrow corridor to finally reach the head scientists room to gather the files about HYDRAs own knowledge on developing a new form of super-solider serum. You always wondered why people had an obsession with powered and enhanced people but at the same time you understood why. You just wished yours wasn't forced on to you and that you were given a choice but you were soon to be one of HYDRAs secret weapons, but when the Avengers found you, you had just been injected with the serum. The Avengers were infiltrating HYDRA bases when Lokis scepter had been stolen, they found you just in time and took you in straight away.

Plugging in the usb drive to transfer all data, the transfer popping up onto the screen telling you that it would take 10 minutes, “Easy enough.” that's what you had thought until you could hear footsteps coming from down the corridor. Quite heavy, long strides, possibly over 6ft tall, only one person, even better. You made your way to hide behind the door so when it opened you could attack right away, but that never came. Instead a metal arm came crashing through the wall you were standing up against grabbing you by the throat and throwing you half way down the corridor, it took you a moment for you to try and stand up but by the time you was about to stand a fist was already being swung towards your face, keeping you locked on the floor below him. You knew this soldier was like you, you could feel it but you also knew that you might not get out of this fight easily, they were much stronger. That face looked familiar, the blurring of your vision from the hits making it harder to properly see but you knew it was familiar. The beating continued with left and right hooks being thrown against your face, the blood rushing out of new cuts across your face, your busted lip and most likely broken nose. You couldn't give up. You knew that for sure. You managed to find the strength to start dodging the punches coming right at you but you knew you needed to get that drive and get going quickly. Rolling out from underneath the soldier as they went to drive their metal arm straight into your face you grabbed your gun and shot the soldier in the stomach and sprinted back to the room to collect the usb and get going, you knew it was the only way to run rather than end up dying here alone. You finally reached the doors of the base to continue your sprint when you heard that sound of a bullet coming straight out of a gun, it buried itself right into the back of your left leg but you had to keep moving, the blood gushing from your face and now from your leg reminded you to definitely tell Steve to “fuck off” when he comes into your room before the suns even up again. Continuing the sprint, you started to only imagine one thing. That Natasha was going to have your head when you got back to the compound.

You could see the quinjet right in front of you and you had never been so happy to see one so much in your life but just as you was to step one foot onto the jet another two shots were heard behind you, you KNEW this soldier wasn't going to give up and you definitely knew they would keep up with you. The bullets finally lodged themselves into your body, one straight into your right leg and the other straight into your lower back coming out through your stomach. This wasn't good. You were just about on the jet pulling yourself up as the option to stand wasn't even an option anymore, telling FRIDAY to close the hatch and get in the air and back to the compound as quickly as it could and make sure to have medical on stand by as you land. Moving yourself to try and sit in one of the chairs holding pressure to your gunshot wound in your stomach, you heard a familiar voice ring through the speakers of the jet.

“Y/N come in, do you copy?” Natasha. Just as you go to open your mouth to reply your vision starts to blur and all that you manage to croke out are inaudible slurs, until your vision completely goes black.

To say Natasha was pissed off at Steve and you was an understatement. Oh if looks could kill Steve would already be 6 foot under. They stood on the landing pad waiting for the quinjet to arrive back at the compound but what they were expecting was not what they finally saw when the door to the quinjet opened. There you laid on the floor, choking on the air and laying in a puddle of your own blood, paler than anything they had ever seen. Before Steve and Natasha could even make it to the quinjet fully, the medical team were rushing in and putting you on a stretcher taking you straight into surgery. Natasha didn’t even make a move she stood there completely lost with that imagine in her head, but as soon as a doctor shouted you had no pulse it was like she was snapped back into reality her body was on flight mode, she made the move to try and run to you as quickly as possible but Steve had already grabbed her round the waist and was holding back against her vicious punches and kicks shouting at him to ‘let her go or he will regret it’. The sounds of Natashas shouting soon caught the ears of some of the other Avengers, running outside one by one came Wanda, Bucky and Sam. Confused by the commotion until they finally heard the sobs of Natasha in Steve's arms and the puddle of blood in the quinjet, they instantly knew this was about you.

Natasha had been pacing around the waiting room for 2 hours now, everyone telling her, you're ok and the surgery will be over with soon. But they didn't know if you were ok and when the surgery would be over they just wanted Natasha to sit down and stop pacing. Just as Natasha finally took a seat a doctor walked straight in front of them staring at Natasha.

“Are they alive?” Natashas voice coming out weak filled the waiting room, the anxiety from the question entering everyone's mind to know the truth.

“Yes”

They all finally let out a breath none of them knew they were holding. Natasha finally looks down and letting some more silent tears roll down her cheeks, she looks up at the doctor.

“Can I see them?” no one has ever heard Natasha sound so weak and vulnerable, they all knew yous were together, yous never kept it a secret openly flirting in front of everyone and you making it very clear who Natasha was to you at parties when you'd go up to her at the bar and put your arms around her waist and start slowly kissing her neck no matter who she was involved in a conversation with. But no one had ever seen this side of your relationship, the hard side of worrying and panicking when one of you was injured or on a mission. The vulnerable side and lets just say you and Natasha were not ones to let people see you both so small and fragile.

Following the doctor into another room there you laid on the bed your stomach wrapped tightly and also your legs, the bruising on your face a nice bright purple. Your skin had slowly started to have more colour in and Natasha had never been so relieved. She made her way over slowly towards your bed afraid any type of sound would wake you up. She wanted you to rest, but part of her wanted to shout and scream at you for not calling for backup or even just turning around and coming back home. Turns out she wasn't as quiet as the sound of the chair moving wakes you up from your sleep.

The bright lights make you hiss and groan. You make your way to sit up thinking it was all a dream, that is until you feel two sets of hands on each side of your body pushing you down.

“Lay back down y/n, you're hurt.” Natasha, there it is again that sweet voice you've spent months waking up too, but it's different. It sounds broken like she has been crying and is about too again at any given moment. Opening your eyes was a struggle but you finally got there. In the room stood Steve, Wanda, Sam and Bucky and sat next to you ever so gently holding your hand is your Natasha. You go to turn towards Natasha but Bucky catches your eye, everyone sees the hesitance in whether or not you want to finally speak.

“He looked like you.” that's all you manage to choke out before Nat is passing you a cup of water to drink slowly. Everyone starts to look around confused straight from you back to Bucky. Until you finally speak up again.

“The guy that attacked me at the base, thanks Steve by the way maybe next time send two people instead of one into an ‘abandoned’ base, yeah abandoned my arse.” Everyone smiles at your sarcasm but quickly pushes that to the side to ask the question everyone is so desperate to know.

“Babe,what do you mean by he looked like Bucky?” ah, Natashas voice, you simply turned and smiled at her squeezing her hand.

“Well like I said Talia, he looked exactly like Buck. Metal arm, red star. Long black hair. All the facial features are the same but not the eyes, they just looked black. Was hard to know for definite with the amount of punches I was receiving but if no one was to know Bucky like we do, then people would be sure that the Winter Soldier is alive and well.”

Bucky stood there dumbfounded not even knowing what to say or even think, everyone just looks confused at what you’re saying it makes no sense but then again yous are all in a room with three super-soliders, a witch, a highly trained ex-assassin and a guy that has robotic wings for christ sake.

“Ok i think we should all take a break give Nat and y/n some space ok? Come on guys, we can debrief you later y/n/n yeah?” Steves the one to speak up this time probably too confused and tired to have this conversation.

“I know what you're gonna say Tasha, and i'm not in the mood to hear it so can we leave the telling off until tomorrow? Ok, thanks means a lot.”

“No. we are talking about this now so it can be over with and we can move forward. Its simple really y/n/n youre a fucking idiot!” her voice starts to get louder as she continues her rant.

“You call for backup no matter the excuse you call for it or you get back on that jet and come back home no mission is worth more than your life you know that! Ugh, i’m so fucking angry at you for being so fucking reckless! You could have died? Why can't you see that? Just because you have that serum it doesn't make you invincible you know that but you've acted it! All of this for some files? How can you expect me to not be upset or angry? You’re my partner, and i love you more than anything but when you act like this it makes me think if you are even thinking about me when youre risking your life for some stupid usb.” she looks away as she continues to cry, your brain now trying to process all of these words but also all of these emotions. Wait, did she just say she loves you? You have been together for nearly a year now and neither of you had even said that yet, you both knew it but never dared to say it.

“You love me?” it's your turn to choke out now, you know you love her but one minute she is calling you reckless and an idiot then she is telling you she loves you?

“Of course i love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Ok, ok, still mad i got it” she slowly turns to glare at you this time but she sees your tears slowly rolling down your face and she instantly softens her glare. You take her hands into yours and you know you have to say it back because if you don't she is going to be even more mad than what she already is and one thing you don't want to deal with right now is a mad girlfriend because she is so scary.

“Hey Talia, listen ok? I love you too. I do, I really do. I'm sorry i was reckless, i should have come back but it was like my body was on auto mode and yes like you said that isn't an excuse i know that ok. I thought i'd be ok on my own and well clearly i wasn't as i’m in a hospital bed but i’m here. I know we both worry when we go on separate missions and I know you probably worried more because I didn't come and say goodbye but I was hoping to be back by the time you woke up. Steve said it was abandoned and when I got off the jet and started walking no one was there and then I was ambushed by some guards but I took them down with ease and there was no one else in sight, my comms went off and they were buzzing and I just carried on. I needed to do this mission baby, I needed to get this information about the serum so we can try and stop HYDRA creating more soldiers and putting them through pain. I’m sorry I've hurt you, I didn't mean to do that, I was just doing my job but I'll tell Steve for next time that if i’m to go on a solo mission that you need to be with me ok? No more solo missions, not just for me but for everyone. We need to be safe. Especially with another Winter Soldier walking around like he owns the place ok? I love you Natalia, I’m sorry.” you've already lowered your head at this point too embarrassed by telling her we all need to be safe and that you love her.

You feel one of her hands move from yours, you think she is gonna walk out but instead you feel the softness of her fingertips tracing the bruising on your cheekbones before you even have the chance to hiss at the tender touch her lips are pressed so intensely against yours. You've kissed many times before but this kiss, it's just so different it's as if she is trying to tell you exactly how much she loves you and how much she is happy you're here just by this kiss. You move your hand up to her face and slowly move it round to play with the hairs at the back of her neck, she hums and slowly stops kissing you. You didn't want that kiss to end and you groan in frustration and she chuckles at your little outburst, Nat leans her forehead against yours and finally lets out a breath. You're ok, she knows it now.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a while forehead to forehead until you feel a shooting pain in your stomach, you hiss in pain and move away to lie back down on your back. Natasha is up in an instant thinking she has hurt you but you're quick to calm her nerves.

“Baby it's ok, just some pain. Come and lay with me, please?” you pull your puppy dog face, a face you know she cannot resist. She simply smiles and makes her way back over to the bed as you shuffle over to make room for her. The next minute you're both lying and she is snuggled into your side, your hand drawing patterns on her back and her arm ever so carefully laying above your wrapped stomach.

You understood why she was mad at you, you put your life on the line and didn't think twice about how she would feel with the consequences. You hated yourself for that, you knew you'd feel the same if it was her laying here injured and not you but it wasn't.

The room was silent, a comfortable silence. One you and Natasha both could just relax too.

“When I said I love you y/n, I truly meant it. You're it for me” she moved her head off your chest to look into your eyes, her eyes held so much emotion and you knew right then and there again like you had known for the past year that you were going to marry this woman.

“And you're it for me Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. I love you Talia, forever and always.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natalia romanoff #black widow x reader #marvel mcu #natasha romanoff imagine

315 notes · View notes

therewasatale · 3 years

Text

his scars

On Ao3.

Summary: Each Lord had their own rules, and you have broken Lord Heisenberg's.

Note: I saw a bunch of fanarts with Heisenberg having a lot of scars, so I played with the idea.

Each Lord had their own rules. Which if their servants did not follow, they had to pay a heavy price.

Rules like that; you must not go to the lower levels of the factory alone. If Lord Heisenberg said something, you had to do it without question, especially for your own safety. And if you visited his private room, you always had to knock before entering.

You’ve always followed two of them. However, your attention slipped over the last one as you hurried out of the elevator to Heisenberg's room. At each step, you could feel the slow, rhythmic thumping of the factory from behind and below you as the various machines and tools worked non-stop. Every click, tap, or squeak has become as familiar to you as your very being.

Pulling closer the book you got from him a month ago, you tried to gather your thoughts about what you wanted to say. You'd have never thought a darker fantasy would appeal to you so much. It had a mystery, a bunch of different, but still interesting characters, and an oppressive background that the story slowly began to bring to light by the end of the first book. The ending was open for a promising sequel.

And you entered his room. Without knocking.

Inside, the smell of thick tobacco and oil rushed your senses.

"Heisenberg, I brought back the book! And imagine it's already-"

"WHAT IN THE LIVING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" He yelled.

You froze in place in the doorway. The sudden shout shook you up completely and you gripped the book tighter in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it.

Your gaze was immediately drawn to the man, as he was standing by the bed.

Heisenberg's shirtless upper body was covered in a myriad of thin scars, like cobwebs across his entire body. Starting at his neck, they ran down his chest all the way to his waist, and probably continued under the pants. The scars on his arms were gnarly, from long healed injuries, which were most likely the results of fights. However, some of those on his chest were too straight and clean to come from an accident.

"Get. Out." He didn't look into your eyes. Objects trembled around him. A knife rose into the air from his desk. "NOW!"

You didn’t look back when the door slammed close behind you. Not when the elevator was already climbed up a few levels. And not even when you got to your own room and threw your back at the door. You felt like a hand was wrapped around your throat and it began tightening its fingers, ever so slowly.

Long minutes passed and yet you still felt as if your heart was trying to break out of your chest. The only thing you could clearly hear besides the beating of your heart, was your own panicked breathing.

"Shit..." you slid down with trembling legs. You had to wrap your hands around your body to try stop the trembling.

It was over.

You broke his rule. And now he's going to kill you, if you're lucky, he will make it quick.

Each Lord had their own rules, and now you have broken Lord Heisenberg's. Like a stupid fucking kid.

"Shit!"

You were aware of the fact that the people in the Dimitrescu castle disappears and got replaced very often, and you were really surprised how different Heisenberg was from what you imagined. He shouted a lot and swore even more, but he never tried to hurt you, even on his worst days, he just grumbled impatiently and vented his frustration on his machines.

He was loud, but understanding in his harsh way. Impatient, but still a good listener on his good days. He was rough, but you knew he cared about you, in his own grumpy way.

You were happy. You enjoyed living here.

But now...

Now you had to get out of here.

The sudden thought helped to clear your head with such force that you have managed to get on your feet. You didn't want to die. You didn't deserve death for a complete nonsense.

You had to get away.

Heisenberg waited while as the elevator started upwards.

He didn't even have to move his hand. The knife spun around its axis then it slammed into the wall with tremendous force, then again and again and again. It didn't stop until the blade bent from the force. His fingers trembled, bolts and gears threw themselves around him in all directions. The legs of his bed buckled as the springs in his mattress straightened, pierced trough the material and then snapped and shot themselves into the ceiling.

"Fuck!" He grabbed his dirty-gray hair and pulled it hard enough so the pain would clear his head a bit. He needed to calm down before he smashed everything around him. The bed creaked behind him, as two of its legs finally gave up and fell to the ground with a thud. Then there was silence again. This snapped him out from his blind anger.

He shut his eyes tightly. Letting his shoulder sunk, he took a step back and threw his back against the cold wall. He needed to take a few deep breaths to slow down his pounding heart.

When he opened his eyes the first thing that caught his eye, was a scar running through his forearm. He clearly remembered getting it in a fight against a bunch of lycans. Years ago, when he started constructing his factory the territory of the lycans stretched all the way to the area where the main building would be. At the time, they didn’t even know who they were facing and sometimes they ventured through the fence. That evening, Heisenberg did not expect them in such numbers, let alone that they will attach wooden spears on their arm to counteract his powers.

With a sharp exhale he lowered his arm.

Those creatures became what they were thanks to Cadou. Technically, they were all related. He took a deep breath, knowing it well that these thoughts didn’t help and were not important right now.

He gave himself a disgusted look before he got dressed. When he buttoned the last button on his shirt, only then he let his thoughts wander again. An unpleasant feeling settled into his chest.

You saw him. And now you will run away.

It was over.

He knew that the body he had to live in was utterly repugnant. The body which was experimented on by Mother Miranda, conducting studies and surgeries until she was satisfied with it. The body she put the parasite in and which cursed him with this fate. He hated her for making him this way, and he hated himself for being her child.

He still woke up time to time drenched in sweat from nightmares where he has been implanted with the parasite over and over again.

It spread throughout his body and turned his existence into pure hell. His thoughts burned away by the eruption of the unbearable pain, he felt as if his chest would open up and his heart would tear itself out of its place. However, the worst part of it all, was the realization that something was trying to subsume his consciousness. Claws tore into his brain and tried to suppress part of his being. It was almost successful, but Heisenberg held on.

And when he woke up after the procedure, he found himself in a whole new hell.

You were the only thing, along with the constant building, that kept him happy day by day, and helped suppress his raging hatred. On the worst days he still could felt the Cadou trying to making its way into his head. But you always were there to help him, or at least, you tried and he was grateful, even when he didn't say anything.

He knew full well that this would not last forever. Because why would it last? In this godforsaken horrible place everything fell to pieces and rotted apart eventually.

He took out a cigar from the depths of his coat.

He didn't want anything; he didn't ask to being like this. And yet you stayed with him. He had you. But now, you saw him.

The bitter smoke slowly rose from his lips.

Everything was over.

Hours have passed. Night arrived, or just the tiredness told you that.

You thought about running away again and again trying to figure out how, and when you should do it. The first thing you thought was that you had to find a way to do it as soon as possible. The elevator was an option, but you would have risked running into Heisenberg, or, more dangerously, into his servants. He could send them after you at any time.

It was risky.

Or there was a ventilation system that weaved through the factory. You could use that, though you were afraid of getting lost inside of it forever rather than getting out. Escaping trough, the dumpster promised only similar chances.

You even started to think that maybe first, you should talk to the man. Or at least try to talk to him. Though your reasonable-self protested profusely against this emotional suggestion.

However, your pride also spoke up and somehow, it made you stay. You're not going to run. Not anymore. Not from him.

So, you waited.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you hoped you would have a chance to talk to him. You just couldn’t decide when to go to him. Every part of your body shivered as Heisenberg's angry voice echoed in your head. You had to go to talk to him, but you were simply unable to leave your room, at least for now.

Fortune was on your side for once.

Your door opened slowly. You felt your shoulders tense up and you swallowed dryly. You couldn’t look up at him.

"I thought you would have left already." His voice didn't sound as harsh, as you would have expected.

You glanced up at the man who was leaning against the doorframe. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his eyes were hidden behind his black sunglasses.

"Why should I leave?"

"Well," despite his words his voice sounded surprised "I yelled at you."

"You've yelled before."

Heisenberg snorted a little and rubbed his hair under his hat. This didn’t go as he thought it would. "Well yeah, but..." his words let him down.

"What happened to you? I mean your body…?" You got up from your bed. He was just a few steps away from you.

The man drummed with his fingers a couple of times on his arms. "I fell."

"Heisenberg..." you took a careful step towards him.

"Lord Heisenberg." He corrected you. "If my bitch mother is forcing this prestigious bullshit then we should keep to it." He sounded more annoyed than angry. He continued to drum slowly with his fingers, but you could also feel his eyes watching you from behind his glasses.

"I'm sorry that I didn't knock."

For long minutes, the only thing could be heard was the rhythmic thumping background sounds of the factory.

"Well...Yeah..." He scratched his graying hair slowly as he pushed himself away from the doorway. "Listen, if you want to go, then go. I'm not going to stop you, just don't ever comeback. All right? Have a nice life, or whatever. That giant trash is actually looking for new maidens," He turned around.

You managed to stand up and hurried after him stopping him in front of the elevator.

"What?" Heisenberg glanced down at your arms as you hugged him. "(Y/N)?"

"I'm sorry." You snuggled closer to his back, hiding your face in the fabric of his coat.

"For what?" His hands shook, he had to stop himself from touching your arms. The thought made him tremble a bit, but he realized that you were trembling too. You were so close to him, he could felt your body against his, your finger griped into his clothes.

"For not knocking. And not saying sorry. And for not trying to talk to you." His coat smelt like tobacco and oil, just like everything around him did in this place. For you, it felt like home.

When he didn't answer, you spoke again.

"I don't want to leave. I'm sorry."

There was another quiet minute. You were about to let him go when he finally found his voice.

"Are you sure? But you saw me." He carefully caressed your hand with his fingers. "You saw what that bitch did to me."

So, you were right, those wounds were too straight to be from some kind of accident.

With your eyes closed you enjoyed the gentle touches, as he run his fingers along the top of your hands, and then slowly moved up on your arms as well. He slowly relaxed between your arms and leaned closer to your body. Even his breathing became more even.

When he sighed, you let him out from your hug and stepped beside him, looking up at him "Come with me, Lord Heisenberg." You gently took his hand and pulled him after you. heading back to your room.

"Hm?"

"I need some rest, and you too. And I'm sure you've destroyed half of your room."

Heisenberg pulled down his hat into his eyes. Damn.

"Why would I have done that?" Oh, for the love of god, shut up you, idiot! He snorted to himself.

"Because you care about me, just as much I care about you. Come." You pulled him all the way to your bed. Turning towards him you took off his hat and glasses.

"Mh, what?" His tired eyes looked straight into yours.

"Your eyes are really beautiful."

"Oh shut up." Stepping next to you, he threw himself on the bed.

You never dared to ask why you got a bed which was big enough for two people. Whether someone owned this room in the past, or the man had some kind of plan for you. But right now, as he leaned back to the bed, you haven’t really found a reason to worry about that. Climbing next to him, you hid under his arm. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you sighed deeply.

"Well, I hope you're happy."

"Very much, thank you."

He snorted and listened quietly to your steady and calm breathing as he tried to ignore his own pounding heart. He fervently hoped you wouldn't notice this. This hope was unfortunately false considering that you were only a couple of centimeters away from his heart.

The redness spread through his face even more so than before.

He didn't imagine this could happen. You shouldn't have been here anymore. You should have gone to the village a long time ago and not looked back. You should have left everything...and everyone behind.

Instead, you were here. And you laid next to him so damn close. His skepticism struggled against the notion.

Like anything would just become magically fine after this.

"You know, you can't fix me with cuddling, right? I'm messed up in the head and even more fucked up in my body." He swallowed dryly.

"What are you talking about?" Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes.

"I just told you." He let out an impatient huff. "You can't fix me, I'm this fucked up. And it won't go away after some warm cuddling and snuggling. Sorry to ruin your hopes."

"I don't want to fix you, Heisenberg."

"What?" Every answer of yours caught him off guard.

"Why would I want to fix you when I like you this way?" You leaned closer, slowly kissing him. His body tensed, you could feel his grip tighten on your shirt, then his lips gently kissed you back. The kiss tasted bitter, like his cigar. He pulled you closer and didn't let go until you yourself pulled back.

Looking into his eyes you smiled gently. "Besides, I've been here a long time, so I'm pretty sure I'm just as messed up in the head."

"Damn." His grey eyes almost sparkled. "God damn."

You let him pull you closer, snuggling up to his shoulder.

"So, we're messed up together."

"Pretty much, yeah. But somehow it doesn't bother me."

Heisenberg was sure by then that you could feel the pounding of his heart, but he didn't mind it now. He gently caressed your face with his fingertips from your forehead through the line of your nose all the way to your chin. He spent a lot of time under your eyes.

"Listen, I know she did something to you." You placed your palm carefully on his chest. "But your body isn’t scaring or disgust me." You gently caressed around his heart trough his shirt. "It's your body, it belongs to you and I like it. I mean it's yours and it's fine."

"Mh," he replied tellingly.

His heart finally started to quiet down. Good. He needed to think with his god damn head and not with his heart. Everything happened differently. For hours he believed, no, he knew, that you have already ran away. He wanted to give you time, that was one of the reasons he didn’t come after you for so long. And yet, deep within him he felt he can't just let you go. Who knew what he would have done if you would have told him to his face that you are leaving him? He felt as if his whole world started to tremble.

It was as if you could feel what he was thinking you snuggled closer and rubbed your head against his shoulder.

The man sighed softly.

But you stayed. You were here, and you were honest. Maybe he could be a bit honest too.

"Sometimes, I dream that I'm just a machine myself." He gently played with your hair. It was a long time ago when he touched something this soft. "That I'm lying on one of Mother Miranda's experimental tables, and when I look down at myself I see nothing but gears and bolts that work together inside me. It's not my body anymore, I lost my real one. Then I start to lose my mind as well. And she just watches me, every damn time. Calling me his son. " He rubbed his face into his hands.

Raising your head a little you laid it back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"What are you-"

"Sh."

The man snorted, in confusion and embarrassment.

"Hm, all I can hear is your flesh heart beating in your chest. The rhythm is pretty fast but maybe because of the many cigars."

"Oh, shut up." He hid his face in his hands and tried to rub the crimson of his face away.

"All right, all right." You snuggled back to his shoulder. "Still, I'm not going anywhere."

"You can be a stubborn bastard sometimes."

You chuckled, clearly proudly and as you embraced him a smile remained on your face.

The room around you was filled with the sounds of the thumping factory. It felt comforting. Your heart started to quiet down as you let your consciousness relax from the rhythmic noises around you two. His hand drew gently circles on your shoulder.

"Can we stay like this for a while?" You asked, what he didn’t dare to ask.

"Sure." He pulled you even closer and buried his face into your hair. He seemed to relax even more. He raised a finger, and his sunglasses slipped off, levitated under his coat, and raising it up gently laid it on the two of you, before it landed itself on your nightstand with a small clink.

"Thank you." You muttered as you gently drifted towards sleep.

"Yeah-yeah." He kept his face hidden in your hair.

You won't leave him, at least not now. Maybe you will actually stay with him, maybe you were stubborn enough to do it. He ignored his worries about the future, instead, to his own surprise, he let himself be happy for once. He slowly fallen asleep with you on his side, listening to your breathing.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg imagine #heisenberg x reader #reader #re village #copper #heisenberg x you #house heisenberg

346 notes · View notes

navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

Text

Lost self confidence

Anon: Can I request a lil one-shot where y/n has been on the team for a while and she put on some weight/starts feeling insecure about it and Gibbs helps her feel better? :> If not it's okay (Preferably a lot of fluff, angst & smut up to you)

Anon: Can I ask for a plus sized reader and gibbs please? I never see them :( Maybe someone says something about her weight when theyre working a case or something and he does the gibbs-legendary-elevator-conversation??? OuO

I thought those two requests work well together. Enjoy, lovely anons! ❤️

Warnings: punch, mention of blood, hurtful comments about weight

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra

~~~~~

Your body changed. A lot. More than you like to admit.

You have been avoiding mirrors for a while now, but as you stand in front of it right now, only dressed in underwear, you have to face it. Your body changed and you don’t like it. Actually, you hate it.

As you look at your stomach that used to be flat, your hips that are larger, the celulitis… you can’t help but to think it’s no wonder you’re alone. Who could you attract, looking like this? Not many people and definitely not the man you wish you had. He has probably noticed how your body is different. Maybe before, you stood a chance with the man but not anymore. It’s a lost cause.

You put some clothes on and left for work.

You and your team are working on a tricky case, you are not impatient to get into the office today. But as always, you put on your best smile and pretend that everything is okay. Even though it’s most definitely not.

You skipped breakfast this morning - on purpose - but when you sit at your desk, you can see a brown bag sitting there. You look inside; donuts. Not just regular donuts, but your two favorites.

“Gibbs’s treat.” Tony lets you know.

“What’s the occasion?” you casually answer, putting the bag aside. It’s definitely a bad idea to eat them.

“No occasion. You’re just his favorite,”

You can’t help but smile at this. Not that it’s true, but it feels nice anyway. Before, you would have been happy about your boss’s attention, but not today. “Aren’t you going to eat them?”

“I’m not hungry. Do you want them?”

Tony grabs the bag before you know it. At least, you won’t have to throw them away.

You put yourself into work quickly after. You need to take your mind off your insecurities and how bad you feel about yourself. Tony tries to make casual conversation, just being his old self but as you barely answer, he realizes that something’s wrong with you. He just doesn’t know what.

“You’re staring.” You say to him, without looking up from your computer screen.

“You’re in a bad mood.” He states.

“Am not.”

“Y/N, please.” He stands up from his desk and walks up to yours. “I’m a trained investigator. Talk to me.”

“Not a chance.” You keep working, avoiding eye contact. You’re scared that he may read into you, or worse; that you may cry if he starts to ask too many questions.

“Did Gibbs get the order wrong?” He jokes. He doesn’t mean wrong at all, but it sets you off.

“Just-- leave me alone, DiNozzo.”

You practically jump for your chair, grab your laptop and walk away from the bullpen, leaving your coworker in awe. He’s not sure what just happened, but he’s more convinced that something’s really not okay with you.

You spend the next two hours hiding in the conference room. You didn’t work much, you mostly cried and felt sorry for yourself. You really hate yourself and your body right now. It’s not about gaining some weight, it’s also about how lonely you feel. You love your team more than anything, they really are like your family but when you get home at night, it’s just you. You and your thoughts. You and your loneliness.

You just want someone to get home to. Someone to cuddle, someone to love and who loves you back, someone to fall asleep with. Just someone.

You had your face buried in your arms when you heard the door opening. You look up, ashamed. Gibbs is standing here.

He closes the door behind him and walks to you. “You okay, Y/N?” he softly asks.

“Y-yeah. Just a bit tired.”

“You know, if DiNozzo pissed you off, you can tell me.”

You chuckle. “Nah, it’s nothing he did. I guess I got up on the wrong foot this morning, that’s it.”

Gibbs did let it go - for now - but you knew he didn’t buy any of it.

That is later's concern though, there is some news on the case and you need to get going. The afternoon went better; your mind was focused on the case, you didn’t have time to think of the rest. It’s only when you get back home that it hits again. Before taking a shower, you put a sheet on the big mirror in your bedroom. You don’t want to face your reflection for now.

*****

The next morning, you are in a better mood. Not entirely, you still skipped breakfast and avoided all the mirrors but you made a decision: you won’t let the team know. You won’t let them see you’re going through a tough time. It would only make things worse.

Everything’s going okay until that stupid lawyer shows up. You never wanted to see him again after hooking up with him over a year ago. He seemed nice and good looking, he flirted with you the whole time he was in the office, so when he invited you for a drink, you said yes.

Your agreement had something to do with Gibbs’s flirting with that shrink but to this day, you keep telling yourself that it hadn’t.

After a few drinks, you let the lawyer kiss you and before you knew it, you took him home and you had a one night stand.

The sex wasn’t the problem, you actually had a lot of fun. The problem was the next day.

He was gone before you woke up - still not a problem. But when Gibbs yelled at you for giving him some private information, you understood your mistake. The man had used you. While you were sleeping, he looked into your files and found the information he needed to save his client’s butt.

After that, Gibbs gave you the silent treatment for weeks. And he stopped being mad at you after you came to see him in his basement and did your mea culpa. No one ever talked about it since.

But now, the same man is standing in the middle of the bullpen. You growled to yourself before going in.

You don’t greet him at all, just sit at your desk. “Y/N? That’s you?” he says, apparently shocked.

You look at him briefly and don’t answer.

“My god, what happened to you?” he adds.

“Excuse you?” you snap.

“God, if you had been looking like this last year, I wouldn’t have been able to use you.”

His sentence feels like a punch in your stomach, it hurts. But it shouldn’t and you know it. But it still does. You stay there a moment, not knowing if you want to cry and beat the crap out of him. Probably both at the same, but you don’t move or don’t say a thing, you’re like frozen. You barely don’t notice when Gibbs pushes the man towards the elevator.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Ziva asks.

In the elevator

“Overprotective much, Gibbs?” the lawyer tries to appear confident and unafraid. He has his back against the wall, and in a second, he can hear Gibbs’s fist hitting a few inches away from his head. If the fist had touched his nose, he probably would have needed plastic surgery.

“Ever in your life, you disrespect a woman like that again, and especially--especially not Y/N.”

The lawyer made many people angry over the years, but never had he seen a man as angry as Gibbs looks right now.

“The only reason my hand is in this wall and not your face right now, is because she wouldn’t want me to get in trouble, but trust me when I say that all I want to do right now is to shoot you right in your precious parts.”

Gibbs is panting from anger. He can’t remember the last time he said that many words at once. But there’s no way that he or anyone else can disrespect you like this. Never, under his watch.

“So I’m gonna be very clear, you give that case to someone else. I don’t give a shit who, you just do it. And I don’t ever want to see your face again. Cause if I do, you’ll be so disfigured, you won’t be able to get another woman. Ever.”

“I could sue you for those threats, Special Agent Gibbs.”

“Are you planning to?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, in that case--”

This time, Gibbs’s fist hit the nose.

Meanwhile, in the bullpen

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Ziva asks.

“Yeah-yeah,” you clearly lie as your eyes are watering.

Your coworker isn’t buying it. She takes a step forward and hugs you softly. “Please, don’t let him get to you.” she whispers in your ear. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Those words make you cry. You are not really buying them, but it does something to hear them. And you know deep inside that Ziva wouldn’t say something she doesn’t think.

As she keeps hugging, you can feel someone else’s arms wrapping around both of you. It’s Tony and shortly after, Tim is joining. “I think we should call Ducky. We’re going to have a crime scene.” Tony jokes to light the mood.

“I don’t want Gibbs to put himself in trouble for me.” you sadly say.

“Y/N, if Gibbs hadn’t taken him in the elevator, we would all have jumped on him.” Tim tells you. Which surprises you because Tim is the one to avoid a fight as much as he can.

“Also, the only reason I’m not asking you out is because of Rule 12.”

You are about to answer to Tony when you can hear the elevator’s doors opening. You let go of one another and watch Gibbs as he comes back to you and takes you by the hand. “Someone may have to call 911.” he tells the rest of the team.

Gibbs takes you to the other elevator, the one that leads to the lower floors, where Abby’s lab and Autopsy are. But of course, he switches the button as soon as the doors close. He doesn’t say a thing, he just hugs you tight. “Your hand is blue, Gibbs.” you cry in his neck.

“Yeah and his nose is red, who cares.” he kisses your hair. “I don’t want you to cry because of him, Y/N. And especially not because of what he said.”

“But Gibbs--”

“Not ‘but’, Y/N. Look at me.” he softly grabs your chin with his non-injured hand and forces you to look into his eyes. “You may not believe me right now, but you’re beautiful, Y/N. Sexy. Hot.” you uncontrollably shake your head, not buying a word he says. “I know I’m not the best with words, so I’ll let my actions speak.”

Gibbs ducks his head just a bit and closes the gap between his lips and yours. He softly kisses. You probably have never been kissed this softly before. Gibbs is so gentle and tender, his lips move slowly but expertedly. You’re literally melting under him.

The kiss may have lasted for minutes, hours, you don’t really know. You lost track of time, as if the world had stopped spinning.

“I’m sorry I waited for something like this to happen to do it. I’ve wanted this for a very long time, Y/N.”

“Me, too, Gibbs. But I’m not sure that’s the best time. I’ve lost all self confidence and--”

He kisses you again, undoubtedly to make you shut up. “I’ll help you find it again. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You rest your forehead against his, some tears are still rolling down your cheeks. “You’re not bad with words.”

“I’m still better with touch.”

#jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #agent gibbs #ncis #ncis imagines #ncis fiction #ncis fanfic #tony dinozzo #ziva david #Tim McGee

229 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Taking Care Of Him After Surgery ~ Im Jaebum

A soft sigh came from you as finally the hospital was in sight, recognising the building after many trips with an accident-prone boyfriend before. You were exhausted, having rushed to catch a flight to Seoul, sleep had evaded you for some time, leaving your body on its last legs.

“Are you there?” You could hear Jinyoung ask on the phone, having been there to give you directions since you landed at the airport. “If you go up to the reception desk, I told them when I left him at the theatre that you’d be paying a visit whenever you could land in Korea.”

When you heard that Jaebum was being rushed in for surgery on a back injury, you were stranded. You weren’t quite sure why luck had been so kind to you, but a few hours later you were on your way over so that you could help out with the recovery process.

“I’m here, I’ve just got to the hospital,” you finally replied to Jinyoung, approaching the reception desk. “I’ll hang up now, and I’ll give you a text if they say anything about visitors coming to see him later tonight.”

With that, the two of you ended your conversation, leaving you to figure out the rest of the way by yourself. The grounds were busy, with patients going in and out, people with worried expressions, and several with smiles as they were given their time to go home.

As you walked, your mind could only imagine the emotions that Jaebum would experiencing as he laid in bed. From what you’d heard, the surgery was big, but it was needed, at least to prolong his career and finally bring an end to the suffering he’d endured.

Once you reached the reception, you were clueless, approaching the desk. A woman was sat at a computer, speaking on the phone as you neared, doubtful that you were in the right spot.

Just looking around at all the signs and doorways was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Hospitals had never been a place that you enjoyed, but at least to be able to support Jaebum, it was a place you could be for a short while.

“Can I help you?” She asked as her call ended.

“I’m looking for Im Jaebum,” you informed her, “I’m not too sure if I’m in the right place, he’s had surgery on his back if that helps at all.”

“You’re in the right place,” she calmly responded, quickly picking up on your panic. “We were told that you were coming, just let me check where he’s recovering, and I’ll direct you in the right way to go.”

Your head nodded, taking a step back from the desk as she typed away on her computer, relaying the exact route to his suite to you jut a few moments later.

“I know it’s scary, but I promise you that he’s in very good hands,” she finished off informing you.

“Thank you,” you smiled before approaching the elevator.

Her instructions stuck in the back of your head as you went to the elevators, finding the floor that Jaebum would be on, before trying to find the way to his suite. You walked along several corridors until finally you were sure you’d found the department you were looking for.

As you walked in, there were several suites, each with names written just beside the door in order to help the staff, and confused visitors like you, find exactly who you were looking for.

Once you found Jaebum’s room, you stopped. A heavy sigh came from you before you glanced through the window, noticing him laid out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Your hand slowly reached for the door handle, pushing it down slowly, peering around the door as his eyes looked to see who was coming into his room.

“Hey,” you whispered, walking into the room, letting go of a chuckle at the surprise in Jaebum’s expression. “How are you feeling?”

“Never mind how I’m feeling, what are you doing here?” He croaked, trying to sit up.

“I came to see you,” you stated, taking a seat beside his bed as his hand stretched out for you to take. “Jinyoung called and told me what was going on with you.”

His eyes studied you closely, unable to quite believe that you were sat beside him. The pain almost felt as if it had subsided, recovered as a result of your presence right by his side.

“You didn’t need to come all the way here for me, I would have been alright,” he whispered, feeling your hand squeeze gently against his own. “You must be exhausted too.”

“That doesn’t matter, you’re the priority. How was the surgery? Does it still hurt?”

“Surgery went well, the pain is probably as good as it can be for a guy who just spent four hours on an operating table,” he joked in response.

Your smile slowly grew as you saw for yourself how high his spirits were. “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you months ago to get your back looked at, and now look at you.”

As much as he hated to admit it, you were right all along about his persistent injury. “I got it sorted in the end, and that’s the main thing. But now you’re here, you know that I’m going to make sure you’re the one looking after me.”

“Why else do you think I flew all the way over here? No way did I trust any of the others to help you with your recovery.”

“Thank you,” he suddenly whispered, settling back properly in his bed. “As angry as I want to be at you and Jinyoung for all of this, I’m really grateful that you made the effort to come here, secretly, I really needed you here with me right now for all of this.”

“I’ll look after you,” you assured him, running your free hand over the top of his head, “you’re going to be in a bit of a pickle for quite some time, especially with it being your back too.”

“I don’t need you reminding me, it already hurts enough Y/N.”

You muttered a quick apology before leaning forwards to press a soft kiss against the top of his head. As difficult as you knew the recovery would be for Jaebum, there was never anyone more determined than him to complete something that he put his mind too.

“You should probably sleep for a bit,” his voice spoke as the room fell silent, “I can’t begin to imagine how much of a rush it’s been for you to get over here so quickly.”

“I don’t need sleep, I need my eyes open to keep an eye on you,” you joked, tapping the top of his head, “I don’t want you to run before you can walk, I know exactly what you’re like usually.”

“I don’t think they’ll even be any walking for me for some time just yet.”

As much as he tried to smile through it, you could hear the pain in his voice too. “Just remember, this surgery will help, months and years from now. Even if it might feel like you’re in a whole other world right now.”

“I’ll be fine, especially now I’ve got you here with me.”

“Exactly, you’ll be on the mend in no time.”

---

Masterlist

191 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.”

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

384 notes · View notes

justsomeclintasha · 3 years

Text

The hospital wing was silent except for the sound of Steve’s pacing footsteps. Natasha sat motionless on a chair, her clothing stained dark with blood. Her hands were clasped under her chin and she was staring blankly at the floor. Tony was opposite her, arms crossed and watching the rain outside.

“You shouldn’t have deviated from the plan,” he remarked, as though he was commenting on the weather. Her eyes snapped up but he wasn’t looking at her. “That’s how people get hurt.”

“Are you saying this was my fault?”

“I’m saying we had a plan for a reason and you broke away. He could have handled himself.”

“There were thirty guys in that building, armed to the teeth, snipers on the roof- and you were too busy showing off,” she shot back at him. Tony leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers.

“This team can’t function if you don’t trust us, and if you had listened he wouldn’t be in that room right now.” Steve’s footsteps stopped.

“If I had, he would be dead instead of in surgery.”

“No, if you had, my suits would have taken out the guards with minimal loss of life and he would be fine, but because of your ignorance-“

“Say that again,” she growled, standing. He stood up, inches away as he looked down into her eyes. Steve was just about to step in between them.

“This is your fault. If he dies that’s on you.” Her eyes changed from anger to shock at Stark’s words, letting it show on her face for a brief second before she turned and walked quickly down the hall. She heard yelling behind her, but she ducked into a spare supply room at the end of the hallway and slammed the door. She leaned against the wall, her hands pressed over her mouth as she sank to the floor. If he dies, if he dies, if he dies. Her fault. She heard the door open and knew it was Steve. Her stomach clenched.

“Is Clint-“

“Still in surgery. He’s going to be fine,” he said softly. He sat down on the floor next to her, watching. “That was a shit thing for Stark to say.”

“Language,” she said with a humorless laugh, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Tears were falling freely down her cheeks. She didn’t hide them. “What if he-“

“He won’t. He’s gunna be fine.”

“There was so much blood,” she whispered. “I mean I’ve seen.. but not like that.. not from him..” She clenched her hands together, feeling the panic rise up in her throat. “It was everywhere, it’s.. oh god, it’s everywhere Steve-“ She looked down at herself, seeing the blood stains in her jacket, trying to rip it off. “Get it off, get it off, please-“ her voice cracked in desperation. He quickly reached out, taking it from her and tossing it aside on the floor where she couldn’t see it. He set his hands on her shoulders.

“Nat, listen to me. None of this was your fault. You did the best you could, we all did. And in a few hours when he wakes up I’m sure he’ll be looking for you first.” She was quiet for a few minutes.

“I never told him,” she finally whispered, wiping her eyes. They were red and puffy.

“He knows.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything, lost in thought. Steve helped her up and gave her his hoodie. She zipped it up with a shiver. When they returned to the waiting room, Tony was gone, but neither of them mentioned it.

“Are you for Mr. Barton?” a nurse asked. “He’s fine,” she said quickly. “He just woke up a few minutes ago. I’m assuming you’re Natasha? He keeps asking for you. Wouldn’t even let me take his vitals until I came to get you. Come this way.” She opened the door and led them through a maze of hallways until finally they reached his door and the nurse left. Steve squeezed her shoulder.

“Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll drop by later tonight.” She nodded, a lump in her throat as she pushed the door open and walked in. He was hooked up to several different machines and she couldn’t see the extent of the bandages underneath the blanket he was laying under. He had a cast on his left arm and a large black and blue mark on his cheek. He looked up at her with sleepy eyes.

“Tasha,” he whispered. “Come here.” She sat down in the chair on his right and he instantly reached for her hand with his. She kissed the back of his hand, tears falling from her eyes to his soft skin. She couldn’t speak. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Tash. I’m fine, look at me, never better.”

“I was so scared, I thought.. I thought you.. You need to rest,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Come here.” He patted the bed next to him. She looked at him skeptically. “Please.” She climbed up into his bed very carefully, laying on top of the covers, close to him but not touching him. He moved closer, leaning his head against her shoulder. “You smell like Steve,” he mumbled. She laughed softly.

“He gave me his hoodie.” He was breathing more deeply now. “We won,” she continued, knowing he was falling asleep. She just wanted to talk to him. “It’s over now. But you scared me. I thought I lost you. I… I don’t know what I would do without you.” She lay there quietly, watching him. After a while, when she was sure he was okay, she let herself fall asleep.

When she awoke a few hours later he was still sleeping. She got up slowly. Her body was aching. She saw a duffel bag sitting on a chair in the corner and realized Steve must have dropped her off some clothes. She grabbed them and changed quickly, tossing her dirty ones in the trash. She sat on the chair, watching Clint. The door opened. It was Steve with two cups of coffee.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.” She took the coffee he handed her. He sat down in a chair next to her.

“You okay?” It hadn’t occurred to her if she was okay. She had been so worried about everything else.

“Yeah, I’m… I don’t know,” she confessed. “Maybe Tony was right. I didn’t trust him. Maybe if I would have things would be different. But I just saw Clint fighting and there were so many people and I just.. I couldn’t focus.” She paused, thinking it over. “I don’t get distracted. I can’t afford to get distracted. But I did… and it.. scared me.” She took a sip of her coffee. “It scared me to think about losing him and it still does now and I don’t know how to balance it.”

“It’s hard when you love someone. Even harder with this job. But that doesn’t mean you made the wrong decision.” She nodded, closing her eyes as she leaned against the arm of the chair, resting her chin on one hand. She could hear Clint’s monitor beeping steadily. She was exhausted. “You should get some rest, Nat. He’s going to need your help the next couple weeks.” He could sense her hesitation of what she wanted to say so he waited patiently.

“Do you think it was my fault?”

“No.” His voice was firm and honest. “And if it makes you feel better, I told Stark to fuck off.” She laughed in surprise at his language and he smiled. “Get some rest. I’m going back to the tower but if you need me, call me.” He touched her shoulder reassuringly before he left. She sat quietly, drinking her coffee.

“I’m mad at you.” She looked up at Clint.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He struggled to sit up and she sat on the edge of the bed, helping him up and stuffing some pillows behind him for support.

“Why are you mad at me?”

“For blaming yourself. Tash, none of this was your fault. We had a mission and I got hurt. It’s part of the job. And if we analyze every mission and wonder what could have happened or what could have went differently we’ll go crazy. You saved me.” She nodded, considering his words. “I trust you with my life. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said softly, helping him lay back down. She crawled into bed next to him and felt him snuggle in closer to her, his cast draped over her waist. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right here, always.”

#clintasha fanfic #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha

75 notes · View notes

xreaderstories · 3 years

Text

Ziva David || How you met

Y/N's P.o.V "Ma'am are you okay?" I ask the woman slumped against the fence outside my house. I quickly notice that she is clutching her abdomen, I move her hand slightly and notice the blood. "Ma'am? What happened?" I get no response, I check my pockets and phone an ambulance. "Ma'am can you tell me your name?" "Ziva," she mutters. "Okay Ziva I'm going to lie you down so I can put more pressure on your wound," I say as I lie down on the sidewalk. A gun is holstered to her side, I remove it and put it on my side. I apply pressure to the wound and looks around for the ambulance, but notice a man lurking around the corner. "Sir, can you tell me what happened?" A man says behind me. I turn around to see the paramedic, "I'm not sure, I found her here around 5 minutes ago. She has a gunshot wound to her abdomen and she's lost quite abit of blood," I respond as they load her into the ambulance. I pick up a wallet that fell out of the woman's pocket. 'Ziva David, NCIS'. I ride with her to the hospital and wait in the waiting room while she is rushed to surgery.

*time skip to a few hours later*

I pull my phone out, when a doctor comes over, "are you the relative of the gunshot victim?" "No Ma'am, I just found her. I came to make sure she was going to be okay. Has NCIS been informed?" I ask. "No, is she a marine?" "No Ma'am she's an agent. Did the paramedics not inform you? I found her ID at the scene and gave it to him in the ambulance," I respond quickly as I begin to worry about the woman's safety. I instinctively reach for the gun on the holster on my hip, and quickly jog to the woman's room. The guy that was lingering at the crime scene was stood with his back to the door looking at Ziva, who was sleeping. I open the door, with the gun pointed at him, "stop and move away from her." I say as I move closer to the man. He turns and fires a shot, which misses and his the wall behind me. I fire and hit him in the chest, and he drops the ground. I turn to the doctor, "call NCIS tell that that one of their agents are here, and the person that tried to kill her. Tell them they need a coroner." As I finish my sentence a phone starts ringing. Ziva stirs but doesn't wake up. I walk over to her bed, sit down and reach for her phone. The caller ID says 'Gibbs' I answer it. "Ziva? Where are you?" The man says. "Gibbs?" "Who is this? And why do you have my agents phone?" He questions. "Special Agent Gibbs, I have some bad news. Ziva was shot. She's alive but she lost a lot of blood. She's in the hospital. The doctor should be-" I say before the line cuts off. "Shit," I mutter to myself when I realised the battery died. "Where am I?" I hear a weak voice say. I glance up to see that Ziva is awake, "our in the hospital, you got shot." "And who are you?" She questions. "Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N Ma'am. I found you bleeding out outside my house," I respond as I take in her beauty. "You're the reason I'm still alive?" She questions as she takes in her surroundings." "Yes Ma'am." "Thank you. You should let me take you out for a drink sometime," she says smiling. "Of course, when you recover," I respond as a silver-haired man walks in the room, followed by two men and a black-haired woman. "Ziva?" The silver-haired man says. "I'm fine Gibbs," she responds and I take my cue to leave, "Y/N... Thank you." "Anytime Ziva," I respond smiling at her.

#ziva david #ziva david x reader #ncis #ncis imagine #x male #x male reader

174 notes · View notes

ssahoodrathotchner · 4 years

Text

Lover, Please Stay

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get shot and Hotch worries about you while trying to keep it together.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: swearing, shooting, blood, injuries, hospitals, some angst and then fluff, mostly just wanted to write some worried!Hotch

A/N: here we go! this is my first fic, so enjoy

Masterlist

---

As far as dates go, getting shot in the stomach twice was definitely not the way you wanted the night to end. Especially because you actually cared about the man sitting across from you in the dim lighting of the restaurant and you definitely had something else planned involving him, your clothes hitting the floor, and then the wall, kitchen counter, possibly the sofa, and of course, your bed and maybe the shower—but all that would have to wait as you slump back in your chair, stunned and bleeding. To his credit, however, Aaron Hotchner is not about to let the man who shot you get away with it, and swiftly tackles, disarms, and subdues the shooter, in record time, you think hazily to yourself with a small smile. After making sure the unsub won’t do anything else –not that he could even if he wanted to– Aaron turns to you. Eyes wild, he finds you –rather dramatically if you say so yourself—bleeding out and losing consciousness. So much for after-dinner plans.

“How romantic,” you gasp out and suddenly at your side, Aaron tips you out of your chair and lays you on the ground, immediately shedding his jacket to apply pressure to your abdomen and the growing red spots staining the dark green dress you had worn tonight. Fuck you loved this dress. And his jacket.

“….Sweetheart? You still with me?” Aaron’s voice wavers, and you realize he’s leaning over you and trying to gauge how you’re doing, aside from the obvious, of course.

You huff a laugh out—big mistake—and a small cry tears out of your throat as the pain in your midsection makes you regret your actions. Turning your head with a surprising amount of effort, your eyes float over him, taking in the way his hair sticks up, the frantic gleam to his eyes (tears?) and then down the black button-down he wore to his bloody hands on your body. You try for a reassuring smile—it doesn’t land—and then there’s some sort of commotion on the other side of the restaurant which you belatedly realize is the stampede of patrons out, as the ambulance slams to a halt outside, sirens blaring.

“Love, y’need t’figure this out,” you grit out, knowing that he won’t—can’t—argue with you as you look up at him.

“Y/N...”

“No, Aaron. Get th’ team,” your eyes are closing and breathing is getting harder so you stop, and hope that he figures this out. He has to. You know Aaron will want to protect you and go to the hospital this instant, but you can’t let him do that just yet. Not this time. It’s not everyday a BAU agent gets shot in a crowded restaurant in front of her boyfriend, who is also a BAU agent. It’s too weird to be random and the rest of the team needs to get here now.

The next few moments pass in a blur of shouting and pain, as you are lifted on to a stretcher and poked and prodded. Tiredly, you try to keep your eyes on Aaron, but in the noise you find your head rushing and with a sharp pain in your stomach, you fall into darkness.

Barred from climbing into the ambulance with you, Aaron has never been so scared and enraged. The ambulance screeches towards the hospital as he quickly fires off a text to the team –you’ve been shot, it doesn’t look good, meet him at the restaurant. And then he sits on the sidewalk. And thinks. And seethes.

How could he not have noticed the man advancing toward your table sooner? How could he not have noticed how out of place the man looked and the way that he kept a hand in his jacket pocket? And finally, why didn’t the man shoot him before getting taken down? Head in his hands, Hotch lets out a sigh before clenching his fists and closing his eyes, waiting. There are police officers milling around, taping off the restaurant and the unsub is in a car around here somewhere, or maybe already on his way to the police station, but Aaron can’t shake the fear in his mind. He should be speeding off after the ambulance, keeping you company, and pacing the hospital lobby until he knows you’re okay. You need to be okay. But your words ring in his head, figure this out, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try. You need him to try. He needs to focus.

A hand claps down on his shoulder and Aaron jerks his head up to find Morgan and Prentiss looking at him with sad eyes. Accepting Morgan’s hand, Hotch stands, and after a beat, straightens up and becomes SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and not Aaron Hotchner, concerned and, quite frankly, terrified boyfriend.

“Garcia is pulling security footage from the restaurant and surrounding area. She’s also keeping tabs on the unsub at the police station and will let us know as soon as the cops figure out who this guy is.” Morgan says as Hotch looks around at the crime scene that’s sprung up around him.

“Unless she figures it out first,” Prentiss adds “which she probably will, it’s Garcia.”

A black SUV pulls up, and Reid, Rossi, and JJ emerge. Rossi immediately takes stock of the blood on Aaron’s hands and the usual chaos of a crime scene. Reid looks shaken to his core, and JJ isn’t much better, although she is valiantly trying to put on a brave face if only for her own sake.

“Aaron, you should be at the hospital. We can handle this,”

“Dave, she told me to figure it out. It was one of the last things she said and if I don’t and she…” Aaron trails off as the rest of the team looks at him, worried.

“I need to do this for her,” he says softly, thinking of how you looked as you were whisked away by the ambulance. How you passed out, face contorted in pain and then still.

“Hotch…” JJ lays a hand on his arm and squeezes.

“We got this. You can run point from the hospital with Garcia,”

That shakes him a bit.

“Garcia is running point from the hospital?” he wants to smile, but he can’t. Not while you’re possibly fatally injured.

“Of course she is,” says Morgan with a small smile.

“She went directly there after you texted us. She said she doesn’t want Y/N to be alone, ” Spencer supplies, and Hotch can’t help but be startled by how much he appreciates the thoughtfulness of his team in this moment.

Looking around the circle, he realizes that he doesn’t have to take on the investigation and your injury alone. No shit, he can hear you say. That’s what they’re here for, dumbass. Teamwork.

Halfheartedly, he tries “but the police need to take my statement and—“

“—and they can do that from the hospital after we’re done here, I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the Unit Chief of the BAU since his girlfriend got shot,” Rossi finishes for him. “Aaron. Go.”

“Come on, Hotch, I’ll drive,” and as JJ pulls him into the SUV, he watches the rest of the team disperse amongst the police and crime scene techs with a determination and focus he wishes he could emulate right now. Instead, he tries to focus on getting to you and how good it’ll feel to hold your hand again.

---

The ambulance ride is blurry and the lights are too bright and the noises too loud as you slide in and out of consciousness after initially passing out. Vaguely, you hear something about a perforated something or other and blood loss, but that’s really all you can understand before going back to being unconscious. Again. If only falling asleep was this easy.

---

Aaron never particularly liked hospitals, but now, with your life in danger, he hates them. Striding into the lobby, JJ at his side, his eyes find Garcia, furiously typing and wiping away tears as fast as she can. As his feet carry him to the desk, JJ breaks off to comfort Garcia.

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, and I’m here for Agent Y/L/N she should have arrived half an hour ago with two GSWs to the abdomen,” his voice is surprisingly collected, as the nurse looks up at him from her computer.

“She was rushed into emergency surgery almost as soon as she got here. I don’t have an update for you now, Agent Hotchner, and it could be awhile until I know something for sure,” the nurse replies with a sad smile.

With a curt nod, Aaron walks over to Garcia, who now has JJ’s hand firmly in her own. Upon seeing him, Garcia springs up and sets her laptop and JJ’s hand aside to instead throw her arms around her stoic Unit Chief. Stunned but not unwelcome, Hotch reaches around to hold the crying tech analyst. Pulling back from the embrace and sniffling, Garcia looks at Hotch and her eyes widen almost comically.

“Blood. Oh my God, blood,” she states in a hurried breath and it’s only then that Hotch realizes that his arms and torso are covered in your blood still; he hasn’t had a chance to wash it off. Looking down at himself, his vision blurs for a second and the weight of his appearance takes a toll. Stumbling to the bathroom as JJ and Garcia reach for him, he staggers through the door and to the closest sink before throwing up. Leaning heavily on his hands, he hangs his head and catches his breath before turning the tap on. Slowly, methodically, he cleans his hands, then up his arms. Splashing water on his face he looks in the mirror, noting the bags under his eyes, the way his hair sticks up on one side, and the dried blood on his black shirt as it catches the shitty fluorescent lighting.

You’re laughing at him and he can’t help but smile back at you. In the light of the restaurant he loves the way your eyes shine when you look at him. Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye, but you’re still laughing and he loves the way you look when you laugh. Bang. There’s screaming. Bang. You slump in your chair across from him. His stomach drops and there’s a roaring sound in his ears and years of training take over. The unsub stands still, gun in hand, and Aaron moves. Takedown. Push the gun out of reach. Hold the guy down. Swift punch to the face and the guy is out. You make a sound—a whine? a scream? his name?—and Aaron turns. You. Hands on your stomach, but Aaron can see the blood seeping through your fingers. Gently, as gently as he can, he gets you to lie on the ground and uses his jacket to try and staunch some of the bleeding. Your eyes flutter and he calls your name, asks how you’re doing, something to keep you awake and talking and with him and—

A knock on the door draws him out of his mind and JJ pokes her head in.

“I found a sweatshirt in the back of the SUV and thought you might want to put it on instead of having to stay in your shirt since…” she trails off and gestures to his bloody clothes.

Wordlessly, Hotch takes the sweatshirt from her. It’s one of his, he knows that, but he can’t remember why it’s in the SUV, especially because he hasn’t seen it since—You. You had it last. Inhaling your scent off the piece of clothing almost shatters him again and he holds the sweatshirt to his face as he tries not to cry. Slipping into a stall he slowly undoes his shirt before crumpling it up and dropping it on the ground. Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, he takes a moment to collect himself before stooping down for his shirt and walking out the bathroom door back into the waiting area.

Sitting next to Garcia he can see that there’s a picture of the unsub on her screen, as well as general demographic information and stuff streaming past that’s too fast for him to read.

“Garcia, what have you found.” Business as usual. Except for the part where he doesn’t know how you are or if you’re alive.

“Well, Sir, the bastard who shot Y/N is Parker Harrison and from what I can tell, he’s a creep. Like look-through-your-windows-and-take-photos-while-you-change kind of creep so—“

“—so it’s weird that he came up to you two in a crowded room and shot Y/N when there is nothing that Garcia’s found to suggest that that’s even something Harrison would even consider,” JJ finishes while continuing to glare at the photo on the screen.

Hotch sighs and puts his head in his hands. Again. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he looks at JJ.

“Call the rest of the team and let them know that we know who the unsub is, but he doesn’t fit the profile for the crime and see if they’ve found anything out of the ordinary.”

With a nod, JJ moves to her feet and goes out the front door to make the call. Garcia makes a noise somewhere between frustration and surprise before renewing her furious typing. Aaron looks towards the nurse at the desk, the same one he had spoken to earlier, and catches her eye. She shakes her head and he tips his head back against the wall behind him, eyes closing.

---

You don’t think you’ve died. At least, not yet. Maybe this is some fucked up afterlife precursor, but you really, sincerely, hope you aren’t dead because that would suck for you and for Aaron. And Jack. And the team. Fuck you really hope you aren’t dead, but the fact that you can’t feel your body really isn’t helping you figure out what the hell is going on. There’s pressure building in your chest and as it expands, it feels like you are going to explode. You fight against whatever is happening—it hurts, dammit—and then back to nothingness.

---

He waits for hours. Pacing, sitting, standing, silent. Garcia mumbles to herself as she works, and calls the team with possible updates, but Aaron can’t bring himself to focus on anything but you. JJ comes and goes, standing, sitting, pacing, leaning over Garcia’s shoulder. She calls Will and the team a few times to give or get updates and for that, Aaron is grateful. He knows he should be doing more, as Unit Chief and as the person you told to get the unsub, but you you are his focus. He nods when Garcia shows him something and shakes his head when JJ appears with food and coffee. And he waits. At some point a police officer shows up and Hotch mechanically rattles off what happened. There isn’t much he can say since they have the shooter in custody already. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the team show up and all of a sudden Hotch is suffocated by the amount of people in the waiting room. Prentiss moves to JJ’s side and Morgan to Garcia’s, talking quietly. Reid and Rossi trade glances before descending on Hotch.

“Any news?” Rossi asks, but Hotch shakes his head.

“You guys find anything at the scene?” And Hotch is hoping for something anything to make this make sense.

“Well, according to the security cam footage, the unsub was dropped off at the restaurant and then walked inside, bypassing the hostess and making his way to your table. It seems like Harrison knew exactly where you were going to be and when, which is concerning. But after you take him down and he got to the station, he didn’t talk—and still hasn’t which indicates that he may be trying to protect someone which furthers the idea that he really didn’t come up with this on his own given that his previous criminal record didn’t indicate that he would shoot someone that he deemed a target, although Garcia is currently going through the contents of his electronics to see what she can find and—“ Reid is effectively cut off by Rossi, who states “and so we still don’t know enough about this guy to draw any concrete conclusions, but this isn’t an ordinary unsub and if he does have a partner, we need to figure out who that is before someone else gets hurt; possibly someone on this team.”

Aaron frowns to himself at this information. He thought that the team would be able to find something find more about Harrison, but it seems the universe is making him wait not only on you, but the fucker who shot you as well. Collapsing down on to the nearest chair, Aaron tries to come up with a plan, a preliminary profile, something that will help him figure out what exactly you’ve been drawn into. Staring down at his shoes, he fails to notice the way the team looks at each other, and then at him. With a sigh, Prentiss moves from JJ’s side to Hotch’s and sits. He doesn’t look at her, or even acknowledge her presence, but doesn’t shake off the hand that she lays gently on his shoulder as he continues to study his shoes.

It’s well into the early hours of the morning when the team is alerted to a development in your wellbeing by the loud squeak of the swinging door that leads to surgery. Half asleep, Rossi wakes the others from their various levels of slumber as Aaron stumbles to the doctor after he announces your name, eyes wide and hopeful.

“First, Agent Y/L/N is alive. She coded in surgery about two hours ago,” Aaron swears he stops breathing “—but we were able to revive her and finish stitching her up and repairing the internal damage. The bullets entered her abdomen and tore through her large intestine, and she did suffer more blood loss that I had hoped, but in time, she will recover.”

Aaron’s breath rushes out all at once and he almost collapses with the weight of his relief. He hears the gasps and murmurs of the team behind him which confirm their own happiness that you are alive.

“Can I see her?” the words leave him quickly, and he knows you won’t be awake, but he needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still here, with him.

“As you can imagine, she won’t be awake for quite some time. Her body has sustained major trauma, and we will be keeping her under watch for at least a week, depending on how long it takes her to wake up and then the rate at which her body’s healing process takes place. However, you may see her, one at a time, and are welcome to be here during official visiting hours tomorrow.”

Without turning to the team, Aaron nods and gestures for the doctor to lead the way, mind spinning with relief and worry, a dizzying rush of feelings at knowing that you’re alive. Stopping outside of a room, the doctor looks at Aaron before opening the door and stepping aside. Making his way to the side of your bed, Aaron can’t help but take stock of your appearance. Eyes tracing your face, fingers lightly following the same path before coming to hold your hand as he sits in the chair next to your bed. Exhaling slowly, he raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, eyes finding your sleeping face and finally, Aaron allows some tension to leave his body. You’re here you’re here and you’re alive and breathing.

---

Your return to actual conscious reality is slow, to say the least. The steady beeping of your heart monitor catches your attention first because it’s just so damn annoying. But hey, it means you’re alive—what a relief—so you really can’t find it in your hazy mind to care too much about the incessant beeping noise as you drift into consciousness. The next thing to draw your focus is the scratchiness of the sheets surrounding your body—are hospital sheets purposely so uncomfortable?—and the way that you can feel someone holding your hand. Aaron. Fighting to open your eyes damn those fluorescents you manage to squint your way awake. Well, as awake as one can be after what you just went through, but it’s an improvement to whatever semi-alive state you had been in even if you are still in a moderate amount of discomfort.

“…Sweetheart?” there he is. You squeeze his hand and turn to see him more fully, eyes raking over his face. Teary-eyed and smiling, you’ve never seen him look more handsome (okay besides when he was wearing his black button-down and black jacket at dinner before you got shot, but that’s obvious).

“Aaron,” his name leaves your lips on a breath and you smile back at him as he kisses your hand before leaning over and kissing your forehead.

“I was so worried, Y/N. So worried about you,” he continues down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally, finally, he presses his lips to yours. Hands intertwined with his other one coming to cup your face, you pull apart just enough to look each other in the eye. And to think you might not have survived to do this ever again. The thought is enough to bring tears to your eyes and as they fall down your cheeks, Aaron kisses your forehead again before leaning his head against yours.

“You’re okay, Sweetheart. You’re here, I’m here, the team is in the waiting room. We’re all okay,” he says gently, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You continue to cry, soft whimpers escaping you as the pain in your midsection sets in and you realize how much you could have lost if you died.

“Th’ team. Need t’see ‘em,” you mumble through your tears, and Aaron nods before reaching for his phone and texting someone, staying by your side the whole time. Your tears continue to fall, but Aaron’s presence and steady reassurance calms you and soon you’re just staring at each other, hands clasped, reveling in your closeness.

A nurse enters the room and checks your vitals on all the machines you’re connected to before remarking on how good it is to see you awake and then she’s gone; Aaron doesn’t leave your side.

A swift knock on the door turns your head, and a smile breaks across your face as the team shuffles into your room and gathers around your bed. You watch them as they come in, looking for injuries or something out of the ordinary. However, they’re all okay, looking at you with sad hopeful eyes, but they’re okay just like Aaron said.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, wide-eyed.

“We’re okay? Mama, we should be checking on you. You’re the one whose been unconscious for a day and a half,” Morgan chuckles.

“’M okay. Good. Great. Sp’tacular,” you assure them with a smirk and a wave at your general hospital-chic appearance. You don’t have to turn to Aaron to know he’s rolling his eyes as the others let out small laughs at your answer.

“Glad you’re awake, Y/N,” Rossi states with a smile as Reid nods behind him.

“We were worried,” JJ adds.

“Don’t you ever do that again! I mean it,” Garcia says, pointedly. You huff out a laugh and grimace as your abdomen twinges in pain. Note to self: don’t do that again. You catch the rest of the room in a collective wince out of the corner of your eye, but your focus is now on Aaron, as he leans impossibly closer to you, gauging your level of pain through his furrowed brow.

“We’ll be back later,” Emily suggests, laying one hand on JJ’s arm and another on Reid’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Y/N.”

“Will do,” you grit out, pain subsiding only slightly in your stomach. Your eyes shut and over the sound of your heavy breathing, you hear footsteps retreating and the closing of the door. Aaron’s hand brushes your hair back off your forehead and comes to rest on your cheek. With your eyes closed, you realize just how fucking tired you are now that you’ve confirmed everyone is fine with your own eyes. You squeeze Aaron’s hand, and as you give in to your exhaustion, you feel him kiss your knuckles with a sigh.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, and then you’re out.

---

You wake up to a hushed argument taking place between Morgan and Rossi at the foot of your bed and surprise surprise Aaron’s scowling at both of them.

Fighting through a yawn, you mumble, “G’morning, everyone,” pointedly glaring at Morgan and Rossi who at least have the decency to look sorry for disturbing you.

“Afternoon, princess,” Morgan says with a nod. “Nice to see you awake again.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but notice the careful way Aaron’s watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Squeezing his hand—has he let go of it since he got here? A thought to pursue at a later time—you turn your attention back to the agents at the end of your bed.

“What have I missed?” Rossi looks at Aaron before taking a breath and facing you.

“We think the guy who shot you has a partner and we’re trying to figure out who it is.”

Well shit. Schooling your face into a somewhat neutral expression, you repeat “…a partner…?” and something akin to fear washes over you. There’s someone out there who wants you dead. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Steeling yourself, you look over at Aaron for confirmation and the hard look in his eyes is all you need. Fuck. Sinking further back into the pillows behind you, you stare at the ceiling and try to fully comprehend what you’ve just learned. Breathing deeply, you try and quell the panic that’s rising in your chest. Shit. Now what happens. Eyes clenched shut, you address the room.

“So, what now? There’s another guy so what do we have on him what do we know has the unsub said anything that might help us? Something? Phone calls at weird times, unusual credit card activity, change in schedule, unexplained absences from work, something has to stick out,” Your words rush out before you can stop them.

“Well—“ Morgan starts but you cut him off, rambling.

“—and what’s the name of the unsub anyway? What’s the name of the fucker who shot me two times?” you ask, eyes flying open at the realization that you only know him as “the unsub” and not his actual name.

“Parker Harrison,” Hotch states with enough contempt for you to stop and squint at him, worried.

“Sounds like an asshole,” you remark, but Hotch doesn’t smile like you thought he would.

It’s at this point that Morgan wisely makes some excuse about seeing if Garcia has found anything new and he herds Rossi out the door before the other man can protest. The click of the door behind them is deafening as you continue to watch Aaron’s face while he stares down at your joined hands on the bed. Tracing your knuckles, he doesn’t elaborate on the unsub and so you wait. You focus on your own breathing, Aaron’s hand in yours, and his presence next to you.

However, there’s only so much silence you can take when you have so many questions that you would like answered. Tugging on his hand, you wait for him to look up at you before speaking.

“Aaron, who is this guy?”

Silence.

You try again.

“Aaron, I can’t help you profile the partner if I don’t know who Harrison is. Let me help you catch this fucker,” and that catches his attention. With a small quirk of his lips, he exhales and leans closer to brush some hair out of your face.

“You shouldn’t be profiling or working at all, Y/N. You got shot. You need to rest,” he says as his hand settles on your cheek.

You snort and roll your eyes. As if.

“I can multi-task, love. Also, I need to work this case. Do you really think I’ll be able to rest and recover knowing there’s someone out there who wants me dead? Harrison is the first step to figuring this out and I can help, Hotch. I’m a profiler and he’s an unsub. This isn’t anything we haven’t faced before and we will catch him. So, once again, I’m asking you to let me help,” you implore. “I’m on bedrest, not dead. I can be semi-useful, even while lying in a hospital bed.”

With that, Hotch sucks in a quick breath and his eyebrows pull together.

“But you did die,” he says lowly. “You died you were dead. The doctor said you coded on the table. I could have lost you,” and with that last admission, his voice breaks. Bowing his head, the slight shake of his shoulders is the only sign you have to know that he’s crying. Crying over you. Oh, Aaron. Carefully sliding over in your bed—ouch—you pull on Aaron’s hand insistently.

“C’mere, love,” you whisper, and Aaron maneuvers his way on to the bed. Has he always been this tall or are hospital beds just smaller than normal ones?

Slowly, mindful of your injuries even in the midst of his own emotional turmoil, he curves himself around you as tears continue to fall. You lift your hand to card through his hair at a steady pace and eventually, just rest your hand on his face, catching tears and brushing them away. You raise your other hand, which is still holding his, to your lips and softly kiss his fingertips.

“I’m here. We’re here and we’re okay, and I love you,” you repeat gently until the shaking in his shoulders subsides and his breathing evens out to match yours. Holding your hand to his face, Hotch gives it the gentlest kiss imaginable before clearing his throat.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. So much. I was scared you weren’t going to make it, and then to find out you almost didn’t?” he trails off with a heavy sigh.

“It’ll take more than a few bullets to take me away from you, Aaron Hotchner,” you say. “I mean it.”

Instead of responding, Aaron nuzzles the top of your head and moves impossibly closer to you on the bed.

“I just—“ he stops. “I waited for hours to hear how you were doing. I was basically useless to the team because all I could think about was you and how you told me to get the guy and figure it out, but I couldn’t. Not without you.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you shift so you can smile at him warmly and then he’s leaning down to you, cradling your face, and kissing you with a desperation that makes your heart ache. You return his kiss with all the reassurance you can offer. I love you. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sorry. Tilting your head, you move a hand to his chest, over his heart trying to do what you can to get closer to him. I love you I love you I love you.

Breaking for air, Aaron presses one last lingering kiss to your forehead before settling back into your side. Heart racing, you smile contentedly at the man in front of you before trying to get comfortable. Leaning just a little too far forward, your breath leaves you in a whoosh before the pain sets in, letting you know you’ve overdone it just a bit—and just when things were getting good, too. Ever the protector, Hotch readjusts your pillows and presses the call button for the nurse as you let out a whimper. Soon enough, a nurse makes her way into the room and asks you how you are—brilliant—and what level your pain is at—an eight—before giving you a very welcome round of pain meds.

As your body relaxes and your mind starts to drift, you turn your gaze to Aaron, still by your side. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead softly as you close your eyes. Safe for now.

780 notes · View notes