Some oneshots of your favorites!
I write for:
- Avengers/MCU
- Criminal Minds
- Harry Potter
- Star Wars
- The Originals
- The 100
- Twilight
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I own none of these characters. All rights go to their respective creator:
- Stan Lee (Avengers/MCU)
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After years of making enchilada for your fiancé, you think you would have it down pat.
Nope.
You managed to burn the cheese.
The cheese.
It's good you have Rossi on the other line to help you salvage the dinner.
"Bella, you are hopeless," he sighs.
"Thanks, Rossi. Appreciate it," you grumble, putting your second enchilada in the oven. "When will you be back?"
"Around six we'll be back at the office." You look at the clock and then at the enchiladas.
"Food will be done by then. Would you like to taste your apprentices work?" you ask, taking off your oven mit.
"Sure, why not. Will Derek be okay with it?" you laugh.
"Cute of you to think he has a choice. We haven't hung out in awhile, Rossi. Derek won't mind if you join us for dinner. You did technically help make it." Rossi chuckles.
"Okay. We will be there shortly."
"Awesome. Bye, Rossi."
"Bye, (Y/N)." You hang up and sit on the couch, excited to spend time with two of your favorite people. Granted you live with Derek, but someone he still managed to be on your favorites list. You close your eyes for a moment to run yourself of the tension migraine that's building. As you're about to doze off, a crash sounds from the kitchen. Your eyes shoot open and you rush to the kitchen. The pot holding the potatoes has fallen over. you groan and glare at the culprit.
"Benjamin, I swear to God." He looks back at you as if he's done nothing wrong. You sigh and stroke his head, not being able to stay mad at your son for long. He meows and rubs against your leg. "You're lucky you're cute."
"You're lucky you didn't get burned," an unfamiliar voice responds. You whip around, holding Benjamin tight. A man stands there with an evil grin, a knife, and some sort of collar. You reach subtly for your phone but he spots it. "Call anyone and I'll kill Benjamin," he threatens. You immediately return your hand to your side. "Now, you're future Mrs. Morgan, correct?" You nod dumbly. Benjamin is getting fussy in your arms. "Go ahead and set him down. I'm not interested in killing a mere cat." You do so reluctantly. You're relieved when he lets Benjamin run off to where ever he's gone.
"What do you want?" you ask, your voice hoarse.
"Oh, you know, public hysteria. You've heard of the recent gas explosions in the area, correct?" You nod, your hands getting sweaty. "They were bombs created by me. And you get to be lucky number seven. Congrats!" Your breath leaves you in a hurry as he walks closer to you. You bring up your knee and knee him in the crotch. He doubles over, groaning. You grab your phone and quickly hit Derek's emergency contact. Just as you hit call, the man grabs you, slamming you on the ground. Your phone flies across the room. You can only hope that Derek answered and can hear the struggle.
"Get off!" you scream, thrashing around. The man plunges his knife into your leg and you scream, ceasing your struggle.
"That's better. Don't move, darling. I'm going to put this on you." Tears stream down your face as he puts the collar on you and clicks a button. The collar starts beeping and your heart drops.
It's the bomb.
He picks up his knife and smiles, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Well, have fun," he winks. He then walks out of your house, closing the door behind him. You lay there, blood pooling around your body from the wound in your leg.
Derek, please get here quickly.
"Derek, if you can hear me, bring bomb squad. I have a bomb around my neck," you inform, hoping he's still on the line.
If he is at all.
You don't know how long you lay there, but the bomb around your neck is growing warmer while your body grows colder from the blood loss. The door splinters open and you turn your head to the side. Derek, the team, and bomb squad come rushing in. Derek kneels beside you and he pales.
"That bad, huh?" you joke weakly. He moves your hair from your face, giving you a watery smile.
"You're going to be fine, baby. Just fine." The bomb squad comes over and examines the bomb on your neck.
"We can disarm it, but it's going to be tricky." Derek nods, squeezing your hand.
"You need to get out of here in case things go south," you tell Derek and then look at the team. Rossi plops onto the loveseat and crosses his arms.
"You're out of your mind if you think we're leaving you here," Reid argues. You laugh through your tears.
"Stubborn."
"Okay, Mrs. Morgan, I'm going to start working on the bomb. Don't move." You nod and then still, the only thing moving is your hand squeezing Derek's hand. The room is deadly quiet as the man works on the bomb. The bomb gets hotter and fresh tears roll down your cheeks. No one talks so you don't have to respond.
After what feels like years, a beep is heard and the collar releases.
The man puts the bomb in some special box. As soon as it's out of the house, Derek pulls you up and hugs you tight. You shake like a leaf as Derek whispers reassurances in your ear. He pulls you back and kisses you, his tears and yours mixing. He puts his hand on your neck and you wince, pulling away. Derek moves your hair and he inhales sharply.
"We need a medic," Derek says to the team. The team nods and leaves to find a medic, giving you and Derek a moment. He helps you stand and wraps his arms around you once again.
"I love you," you cry, squeezing him tighter. He rubs your back soothingly.
"I love you. I love you so much. You're okay," he reassures. It's then that you notice that you're both shaking.
"Is my neck ruined?" you ask meekly. Derek shakes his head.
"No, baby. It's not ruined."
"Am I going to be ugly? Now you cant give me hickies," you pout, trying to lighten the situation. Derek smirks, going along with your obvious change of subject.
"Well, you have other body parts." You blush. He still manages to make you hot and bothered even after having a bomb around your neck. As you're about to give a cheeky reply, your mind wanders to the unfortunate outcome.
"Oh, God!" you exclaim. You limp over to the oven, put on the gloves, and pull out the pan.
"What? What's wrong?" Derek asks, coming to stand beside you. You look up at him with regret.
