#found a chew to work on buried under that blankie

[pippindot]

Baby in the basket

[navalcriminalimagines]

Taken & Found - 1

Request 1: Hey there! I'd really like to see a comforting Gibbs after the reader was kidnapped?

Request 2: Could ya do something with the reader being kidnapped and tortured in captivity for a long time and after she was rescued and came back Gibbs tries to get her to talk about what happened to her so he can figure out how to help/comfort her?

Request 3: May I request something with Gibbs and scared reader? Maybe they’re like trapped somewhere or she’s going under for a surgery? You can decide reader’s fate!

This is a two-part fic. This part is basically full angst, focused on Gibbs and the comforting, healing focus on Reader will come in the second part. I wanted to separate both.

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

TW: angst, kidnapping, mention of suicide, depression, slight alcoholism

Words count: 3k

Tags: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @madamsnape921 @specialagentastra @ncisfan @zetasaturno99

She was supposed to be thirty-five years old today.

And it was one of those very rare days Gibbs didn’t want to get out of bed.

He spent the night working on his boat in the basement, thinking about what his life would be if anything had happened. But he would never know, would he? No matter how bad he wished Shannon and Kelly weren’t dead, how bad he wished you were here with him… all of this happened. And he found himself alone in his basement.

Well, not entirely alone. He had a bottle of bourbon to keep him company, and Fraser, an old black labrador. Your old black lab. Your furry baby, as you used to say.

You rescued it when it was just a puppy, a couple of years before you joined NCIS. So, Gibbs has always known you with this loving thing. At some point, you would even take him to the office and Fraser’s favorite spot was under Gibbs’s desk.

Gibbs never wanted to get attached to the dog. Fraser wasn’t his, it was yours and he respected that. But somehow, you both made your way to his heart.

But only Fraser was still here.

Taking a sip of bourbon directly out of the bottle, his eyes landed on your pet, curled up in the armchair Gibbs put here years ago after you made a remark. “You know, you should put something down here. An armchair or something for people who visit.” You said, while caressing the wood with your fingertips. God did he wish he was the boat at this very moment.

“People who visit never stick around.” He answered, sternly.

“I stick around,” you grinned.

Indeed, you did stick around. A lot. Probably too much.

Would’ve saved him the heartbreak if you didn’t.

A week later, an armchair was down his basement.

With the bottle still in his hand, Gibbs sat next to Fraser and started to toy the blankie. Well, technically, it was not a blankie. It was a tee-shirt. One of yours. The one you left at his house, two years ago.

The top, representing one of your favorite bands, was destroyed now. Fraser chewed it, curled against it nonstop for two years, it was now just some cotton with dog’s hair on it. It didn’t have your smell anymore, it had Fraser’s, but Gibbs never had the strength to take it away from the dog to wash it.

He never had the strength to do much after you disappeared.

When it was clear to the team that you had been taken, kidnapped, abducted or whatever, Gibbs searched for you for weeks, probably mouths. He still does, to be honest, just not 24/7 anymore.

The first weeks, he asked - or actually, ordered - Abby to take care of Fraser. Gibbs was spending all of his time away, looking for you, he couldn’t take care of someone - well, a living thing. The lab tech happily obliged, but Fraser’s health quickly deteriorated. The dog wasn’t eating, or drinking. All he did was lay on the floor, waiting for his mum to come back.

“What, Abby? I don’t—“ not a welcoming way to answer the phone but she didn’t hold it against him.

“I know you’re busy, Gibbs, but I’m taking Fraser to the vet. He’s not okay at all.”

Abby heard her boss taking a deep breath. “Which vet? I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

The dog was clearly letting himself die. Without you, he didn’t see the point of living and Gibbs understood that. If he told anyone what he did after he got Fraser from the vet, they would think he was crazy. Maybe he was, but he didn’t care at this point. He didn’t care about anything, anymore.

Fraser was depressed and there was nothing the vet could do about it. So, they let Gibbs take him home.

And he took him home. His real home; your apartment. Fraser immediately lay on your bed and cried. “You’re reading my mind, Fra.” Gibbs muttered to himself, while preparing a bowl for the pet.

Gibbs had been in your room a few times, but he never paid attention to your stuff. All his attention was on you and your body when it happened. But as he was sitting on the floor, his back against your bed, he allowed himself to take a look around. It was very much you. Minimalist with your touch. He saw your guitar, your messy wardrobe, candles and some Polaroid pictures of people you love. Gibbs never paid attention to those pictures until this moment and one grabbed his attention.

A picture of him. You could see him from afar, aiming to throw a ball. He remembered that night but he never knew you took a picture.

Ziva had invited him to throw a few balls on a baseball field. It was a nice summer night and they had just saved many people from getting blown up. It was also the first night you kissed him. In his basement, you teased him like you always did and ended up with your lips on his. He wasn’t ready for it at that moment, and when he realised what had happened, you were already gone.

Gibbs held the picture in his hand and before sitting back exactly where he was, he went to the kitchen, grabbed what he had prepared and came back.

Fraser was still laying on your bed, his face on your pillow. Gibbs carried him in his arms, the labrador didn’t even fight back or anything. He put him in front of the bowl and Gibbs sat across. “You wanna die, Fra, huh?” The dog looked at him with horrifying sadness in his eyes. “You and me both, buddy. So let’s do this.”

Gibbs put the picture next to the bowl and grabbed his gun and the bottle of whiskey. “I know you know that salmon. Eat it, choke, and when you take your last breath, I’ll pull the trigger.” He said, pressing the gun against his temple.

Fraser is deadly allergic to salmon. When he was a few months old, you fed him some and the reaction was almost instantaneous. Luckily, you took him to the vet right on time for them to save him. “Salmon is banned from the house.” you said on the ride home.

The dog didn’t move one bit. With his face still resting on the floor, he kept looking at the man. Gibbs swore he saw tears in the damn dog’s eyes. “So? Whatcha waiting for? Eat it. It’s good salmon, trust me.” He said, drinking the brown liquor.

If Fraser could talk, he would’ve told him; ‘I may let myself die, but you’re damn crazy.’ Which would’ve been fair.

Gibbs was going crazy. It was the last straw. The last punch in the guts he could take. He had reached his limit.

He was finally letting himself love again and get loved in return. And someone took that away from him. All over again.

He got it, the universe hates him for some reasons. Why would he keep pushing it then?

Gibbs stayed up all night, drinking and waiting for Fraser to eat the fish and die. So he could pull the trigger and end this once and for all.

But Fra never did. Instead, around 5am, the dog went to grab something from the bathroom and put it on Gibbs’ lap. It was one of his hoodies. A hoodie you stole from him. Gibbs buried his nose in it and he could smell you. For the first time in many years, he let himself cry. He cried like a fucking baby, under the watch of your fucking dog.

At some point, he felt that Fraser was trying to nudge his nose in the hoodie too. “We’ll find her, Fra. We have to.”

If Gibbs had killed himself, along with Fraser, it would’ve meant you were gone forever. Because eventually, people would’ve stopped looking for you. They would’ve stopped thinking about you and just pretended you’re dead.

But Gibbs knew you weren’t dead. He knew it deep inside him. Because if you were dead, Fraser would’ve eaten the salmon and he would’ve pulled the trigger.

Laying in his bed, Gibbs turned on his side and found himself face to face with Fraser. The dog was sleeping and snoring. That’s what he does most of his time. Fra was still depressed, but he didn’t let himself die anymore. He eats and drinks the bare minimum. He doesn’t play anymore though. He used to be a happy, playful and loving dog. Now he’s just laying around, waiting for you to come back.

Just like Gibbs.

They both lost weight. Gibbs didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror anymore. He hadn’t been to the hairdresser in a while. His hair was longer than it has never been, and his beard was prominent now. You would probably freak out if you saw him like this. You would order him to shave and get his marine haircut back. You would feed him - and Fraser - until they are full. He just wished you were here.

He reached for Fraser’s head and pet him for a moment. “The boat is done and I can’t even offer it to her.” He sadly whispered. It’s been his plan a long time before you were gone. Building a boat after and for you. Now it was your thirty-fifth birthday, the boat was fucking done but he coudn’t teach you how to operate it like he promised.

For the next two weeks, Gibbs would stay in the basement, and stare at the finished product. There was nothing left to do on it, so he just sat behind the wheel, files on his lap and bourdon in one hand. His use of alcohol has never been higher than it is now. You’d scold him if you knew.

Maybe he’s self-destructing, hoping you’d show up and make everything right again. It was stupid, since you didn’t leave on your own. You were taken. Someone took you, and god knows what they were doing to you. This awoke a rage he never knew he had. He’d kill that - or those - person with his bare hands if he ever has a chance.

A month after your birthday, Gibbs was basically falling asleep in his boat, relatively drunk. Fraser was on his lap - he doesn’t realise he’s not a puppy anymore - when the dog shot his head up. “Easy, that’s just Fornell.” Gibbs mumbled, recognizing his friend’s footsteps.

“My two favorite depressed boys.” Tobias greeted them. He gently patted Fraser’s head and looked at his friend. “I need you to sober up, Gibbs. We need to talk about something important.”

“Just say whatever you have to say. I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah, right.” Tobias grabbed the bottle from Gibbs’s hand and checked how empty it was. But Tobias knew only one thing would make him react, so he went straight to the point. “It’s about Y/N, Gibbs. Get your ass—“

Before the FBI agent could finish his sentence, Gibbs had practically thrown Fraser away. The poor dog looked at him with hurt in his eyes. It was only then that Gibbs saw the file his friend was holding against his chest. He didn’t think twice and tore it out of his grip. Tobias let him.

There wasn’t much in the file, just a picture.

A picture of you.

You looked different, thinner, your hair was shorter and in a completely different color. You looked like a homeless woman.

Gibbs’s jaw dropped. His head was spinning so fast, he needed to sit again. He touched the picture with his fingertips so softly, hoping it was like touching you. A lot of things were going through his mind at this moment, he actually drew a blank. “It was taken two days ago. In Wyoming.”

Gibbs didn’t need more.

Tobias had everything planned before he showed up at Gibbs’s place. One of the FBI private planes was waiting for them, in order to take them off to Wyoming. He had asked Emily if she could dogsit Fraser for a few days, and he even called Vance to let him know he was taking Gibbs with him.

In the plane, he told Gibbs how he came across this picture and all of the info he had, which wasn’t much to be honest. As far as they knew, you were in one city of Wyoming two days ago. Maybe you were gone by now.

But all Gibbs could focus on was that picture. He didn’t take his eyes off it since he opened the file. This was you. You were alive. Whatever happened, whatever the reasons you found yourself here, you were fucking alive.

Tobias looked at his friend. He’ll spend the rest of his life pretending he didn’t see the tear rolling down his cheek. “How you feeling?” He tentatively asked.

“I—I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

“She’s alive. We know it. We’ll find her.”

“I’ve always known she was alive.”

No doubt he did.

It was hard for Tobias to tame Gibbs after they landed. The agent was already barking orders at everybody and anybody, he was ready to organize a fucking manhunt to find you. But the first place they went was where the picture was taken. Gibbs spent hours in the area, while Tobias went to see the local cops. When he tried to check on Gibbs, the man never answered.

In the picture, you were looking at the surveillance camera. You knew you were being watched. You did it on purpose, Gibbs was sure of it. You must have left a clue somewhere around.

You looked scared, someone must have been following you. But he knew from what Tobias said; there wasn’t much more on the video. You were briefly seen and then disappeared, again. “Talk to me, Y/N.” Gibbs thought to himself while looking around.

It was only around noon that it hit him. He finally saw it.

Right there on the graffiti wall.

��Born to lose, live to win.”

Your handwriting. This sentence. Your tattoo.

You must have written this to let him know he should look at this wall. So he did. He studied those graffitis for a long moment, until he saw what he needed to see.

Numbers. GPS coordinates.

He called McGee, not paying attention to the missed calls he had. He gave him the coordinates and Tim gave him an address.

Was that it? The nightmare was finally over? He would go to this address, find you and take you home. Finally.

Fucking finally.

He felt dizzy while running to the address. It wasn’t that far away, and there was no way he’d wait for Fornell or a cab. So, he jogged to this fucking house. When he was standing in front of it, his heart was beating so fast, he thought it would stop.

But he couldn’t die now. He would die after he found you but not now.

He didn’t care about procedures or anything. He grabbed his gun, and let himself in the house by knocking out the door. A man was sitting there, on the couch.

The house was pure filth. The man seemed to be a bit younger than him, and he looked like a psychopath. Which he is, considering he took you.

The man was standing in his living room, his hands up as Gibbs pointed the gun at him. In a flash, Gibbs was standing right in front of the man, the gun pressed against his throat. The man looked scared, he didn’t even try to fight. “What the hell, man? Who are you? What do—“

“Shut your mouth. Where is she?” Gibbs asked, suppressing the urge to beat the man to death right now. That would come later. He needed to find you first.

“Who? There’s no—“

Gibbs’s knee hit him right in his crotch and that bastard fell on the floor. “You’re living the final hour of your life, you better tell me where the hell is Y/N, before I watch life leaving your fucking eyes.”

“I—I—“

Seeing his hesitation, Gibbs punched him. “Where?!” He yelled, but the man stayed silent. “Fine.”

Gibbs grabbed the guy by his collar to put him back up. He was physically impressive, but the adrenaline running through Gibbs’s veins gave him incredible strength. He threw him on the first chair he saw and immediately cuffed him to it. He punched him once more, harder this time.

His nose and lips were bloody, but of course it wasn’t enough. Gibbs fought a lot in his life. To defend himself or to arrest someone, but never, had he been filled with that much rage and anger. He didn’t think twice before his boot hit the man directly in his face, knocking him unconscious. He stared as the man fell on the floor along with the chair he was cuffed to.

He needed to find you. Right now.

No need to be a federal agent to know a psychopath would hold you captive somewhere private.

So he immediately looked for a basement, which he quickly found and he saw the door.

A reinforced door with quite a few locks. Keys. He needed keys that he found in the man’s pocket. Although he was still laying on the floor, fighting to regain consciousness, Gibbs kicked him again, in the stomach this time. He wasn’t holding back his strength one bit. He will kill him anyway.

As he was unlocking the door, his hands were shaking like they never did before. His heart was still pounding in his chest. He still felt dizzy.

He was sure his heart actually stopped when he spotted you on the one-person bed. You were holding your knees against your chest. It was dark, but it was you. You were there, a few feet in front of him. He didn’t even know what to do.

But you did.

When you realised who was standing in front of you, you weakly jumped off the bed and rushed into his arms.

The only thing that kept you alive all this time; knowing that he would find you.

You felt even smaller than you already were. With your arms wrapped around his waist, your face buried in his chest, Gibbs felt you crying.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, afraid it wasn’t real. Afraid he may hurt you. Afraid you would disappear again. “You found me.” he heard you whispering.

That he did.

[yourjughead]

Wrong side of the tracks pt.4

Pairing: Jughead x reader, Bughead, reader x plot twist hopefully Warnings: Swearing, light smut, issues of abandonment. A/N: Sorry didn't get time to edit this is wrote it straight out of work to get it up for you guys, excuse mistakes I think in irish. I really hope you guys get a little shook from this one or otherwise I'd be sad 😂 definitely more excitement in this one than the other 3 but not as much as part 5....oh the suspense. Also low key regret not calling this series "mentally cursing yourself" because honestly, mood. REQUESTS OPEN. ------------------------------------ 3rd Person. Once again you find yourself jumping at the realisation Jughead is behind you. “Jughead! Stop sneaking up on me! Do that one too many times on the Southside and you'll get yourself stab for fucksake” you said as you playfully shoved him. He smiled back at you sweetly. “Sorry sorry y/n” “and for christ sake stop apologising to me!” you laughed “you're right I'm sor...not sorry”. He smiled down to you, totally captivated by your eyes. “So, how was your first day Kitten” he smiled once again but stopped once he saw your eyes darken. “Don't ever call me that again.” you say bitterly. Jugheads smile faded into confusion “what? I thought it was endearing?” “there is nothing endearing about it” “Okay I'm sor….okay” he turned slightly from you and looked for the bus. You closed your eyes and regretted your words. “Okay it's my turn to apologise now. it's just...its just Ryan calls me that and I'm not exactly his number one fan and he's not mine so if you could...could not” you were expecting to be chewed out of it for some reason but then again Jughead was different and maybe he'd react softer and not push further for more answers. And he did just that.  “Oh yeah I had forgotten that..it's alright, really my mistake anyway...but umm how was your first day” his smile grew again and you both loved and hated him in that moment for being so understanding. If he had been horrible he would have been easier to push and shove away from getting too close. “it was good I suppose except this weird antisocial dude in a beanie is like stalking me” you teased “oh really? Well this girl I ran into once, pardon the pun, literally showed up at my school unannounced and is now in all my classes, weirdo” and you both laughed. Jughead enjoyed the playfulness between you two but still he wondered what happened between you and Ryan. The bus came. “aren't you going to get on” Jughead offered seeing you still fixed to the spot “nah my uncle will bring me home” “can your brother not drive?” “what brother?” you looked at him all kinds of confused. “you said today in your lie to Veronica that your brother had the same hat as me...I was just assuming the brother part of that wasn't a lie” “nope. No brother.” “ahhh...and the enigma that is Y/N Y/L/N is further explored” he smiled with a wave stepping onto the bus. The rest of December had flown by until Christmas had been and gone. Your days were spent much like your first, in the comfortable silence with Jughead while his friends rambled on. Betty had become more cautious of you however and tried to get space between you where possible, which wasn't easy by any means. Jughead and you shared a lot of things in common that they did not. You two had almost every class together and were just simply naturally pulled together and every day you grew closer and closer. This drove Betty mad. You were in fact a little shocked to learn that Jughead and Betty were a thing, which Kevin had divulged one day on the way to Geography when Jughead was sick. You thought she seemed far more into it than he did and Kevin agreed with you but in total confidence.   When you asked Jughead about it he seemed shaken and hesitant to talk about her whereas she was ready and open to discuss him. You wondered why he hadn't mentioned it and you had already been 1 week into your new life at Riverdale High. She had insisted that Jughead spend the whole holiday period with herself and her family which, after careful vetting from social care, went okay enough. If a bit tedious and boring for Jughead. Betty didn't allow Jughead to leave her side. Which drove his spirit wild. It also meant that you and Jughead didn't see each other all holiday. Which you guessed was the idea of the set up. Betty refused to go to the Southside for reasons that Jughead couldn't understand and you couldn't go to Riverdale as your uncle didn't let you unless it was for school or you were supervised. You had decided it would be better to just not see him than have 1000 questions asked about him on the way home and Jughead agreed. It was 2 more sleeps till school started and you missed Jughead terribly. *sms: Jug: hey Juliet, nurse off?, do you wanna go for a walk. I can protect you from all the scary things -5:56am *sms: Y/N/N: Ha.ha Y/N. Yeah sure I'll meet you at pops? I have your Christmas present -5:58am. The Xx had caught you off. Maybe it was a reflex left over from texting Betty. He had gotten to Pops first as you pulled up on your motorbike and parked under the neon red lights.   You had only heard of this place from Jughead and had never been as you liced a little in fear of having to deal with a snappy Betty. The sun was attempting to break through the clouds as you dismounted your bike and walked to the entrance where you met Jug. “are we going to go inside or is there some sort of a forcefield around the place that I can't see” you laugjed “I just thought we could go for a walk and then pops? Besides it's his son manning the place and he doesn't like me very much, thinks I'm a waster” “oh so he's a good judge of character” you smirk and bump into Jughead playfully. You two continue messing about along a path in the woods. He told you more about his book and the other history of the woods before the murder. You stopped at a cliffs edge and looked down at the cascading waterfall as the sun continued to fight and win it's battle with the clouds. You two walked down a little bit further and then sat at the waterfront and enjoyed the sunrise. Jughead POV This is perfect. She is so perfect. I rustled around a little bit in my gear bag before I found her present badly wrapped in newspaper. I gave it to her and once again apologised to her for which she hit me and told me shed do that every time I apologised from now on. The sun is hitting her so perfectly. I watch as she cautiously opened the wrapping and revealed the new vintage Metallica tee and a can of pasta sauce. She burst into laughter but not in a horrible or rude way, in an appreciative, you're an idiot, Y/N kind of way. “thank you Juggy”. Did she just call me Juggy? Are we at that point now where she can call me that...God I hope so. It was her turn to give me a present and although i hadn't expected one I was glad I hadn't overstepped a boundary by buying her something. It was wrapped beautifully and carefully, much nicer than mine. Idiot Jughead idiot. She must have noticed me mentally giving out to myself on seeing the wrapping as she offered “i especially love the wrapping, very Jughead Jones”. What did she mean by love...WHAT DID SHE MEAN. I opened the package and there inside was a metallica tee and a jar of pasta sauce. I looked at her with wide eyes and she at I with a wide smile. Our laughter must have been heard throughout the woods. Idiots, we're both idiots in the best way. We spoke for another hour before we walked back. We decided not go to pops his time as if we stayed out longer we risked getting caught. She drove off on a bike she had said her uncles bought her for Christmas. I wonder where her parents are…. I got back to Betty's around 7.30 am and quietly slipped in the backdoor and took off my boots. I wandered to the couch closing my eyes as I sat down on the edge. I held my new tee tight in my hand like a baby holding their blankie. Just as my head was about to touch the pillow, the light flashed on. Shit. “So juggy..” it didn't sound right coming from her lips after I hearing Y/N say it. No Jughead! no! You like Betty! You know, Betty, the blonde girl next door who is standing in the doorway looking like she was to bury you under the house next door. “you left your phone after you….meeting y/n at this time are we?” she seethed. Wow she was mad. “Umm yeah she needed to talk about some stuff” “and what is that” she hissed pointing at the tee in my grip. “Oh Y/Ns Christmas present to me” i stood and held it to my body modeling it hoping to lighten the mood by tenfold. It didn't..  Betty stepped in and closed the door. She took steps towards me until we were less than arms length apart. “she's not your girlfriend juggy” there it is again, my name but not my name the way I hear it from Y/N. “give it to me. Now.” she practically growled. “ehhh no” i scoffed in return. Mistake. She snatched it from my tight grasp causing it's vintage-ness to catch up with it. It was ripped down the seam at the side. “Betty! What the hell!” it was my turn to be angry. “It was an accident Juggy I swear!” she genuinely sounded sorry. She grabbed hold of me into a hug and I was victim again to her char.m. Her arms were around my shoulders and my arms around her waist. She swayed us gently calming us both down. She kissed me so sweetly at first but soon it turned hungry and lustful. Pushing me back to the couch she was on top of me . She moved from my mouth to my neck causing a slight groan to leave my lips. God I hated how she was in control but I couldn't flip her on the couch or we'd fall. She put a finger to her lips to be quiet as her family were still asleep upstairs. She straddled me and pulled my shirt over my head and began to kiss down my torso. I pulled her back up to my lips wanting to have at least a small bit of control. “Ohh Juggy” she purred in my ear. “ohhh Y/N” I goaned. Shit. 3rd POV Y/N got back to the apartment where she lived alone. Her father was tragically killed when she was younger and her mother ran far away not able to cope with life on the southside any longer. Her care had fallen to her dad's three closest friends. More so like uncles to her now than dad's old friends from “work”. She opened the door of the apartment. She hummed happily as she entered but soon stopped dead in her tracks. She took her pocket knife from her jacket and stepped further into the living room. There the chair was spun around facing a glowing fire. “Well what the fuck are you doing here Ryan” Ryan spun slowly in the chair mimicking that of a Bond villain. “now now Kitten, that's no way to talk to your brother now is it?” -------------------------------- Teehee. Well? Let me what you think!