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revasserium · 8 months

Note

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

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diejager · 1 year

Text

Only Human

Pairing : Monster Task Force 141 x reader

Cw : canon-typical violence, bodies, death, blood, cannibalism?, wounds, trauma.

Wc : 3.2k

Note: the designs for the Monster 141 came from @bluegiragi

Only Human masterlist

When Laswell, a known figure in the Intel gathering ranks of the CIA and military, had called you for your new transfer, you were ecstatic about it. You showed up casually, still in your vest and whole attire from your deployment, you were told that Laswell was waiting for you in her office once you took your first step. You only had time to drop off your weapons in the armory before going straight to her office.

You were personally asked to join a Task Force, not another squad or team under a Captain, which you hadn't expected; an international Task Force to boot, it shocked you, even more, to have been asked to have you on a Task Force that spanned nations wide. The radar must've been wide for it to be an international one, important and specialized soldiers were probably the ones who were invited - green berets, if you guessed.

You were excited, though, to have the honour of joining specialized soldiers with only being a corporal.

"Which Task Force, ma'am?" you asked, back straight with your hands crossed behind your back.

"The 141, Hunter."

Your composure almost slipped, your mind buzzed with excitement and confusion at the notice. The 141 was a reputed group, having members from the United Kingdom to the Americas and allies in the south, around Urzikstan, and perhaps farther. They took down Major Hassan, killing the heart of Al-Qatala and weeding out traitors like General Sheperd and Graves' PMC, the Shadows. A closed group with secrets only they knew and would take to the grave, a tight-knit Task Force.

You've heard of some members, none being human. The Ghost - or Ghost - a wraith hybrid of some sort, as dangerous as he was respectable. He was the better known one, a popular topic from one's lips to the other, gossip and rumors about him being more monster than human. While some were harmless, others were made to be racists - or xenophobic in some rarer cases - most were gossip, exaggerated depictions of the man people feared and admired.

You were jumping under your skin for the day to pass faster, for your transfer to happen more quickly. You couldn't wait to meet your new teammates, you've heard good and bad things about them. Some were sociable, others shy or downright menacing to look and interact with (perhaps they specifically meant Ghost).

You've always wanted to work with monsters, the majority of the military was made up of human men and women with a low, low (around 5%) being monsters, creatures of the night that made them stronger, faster, and better than humans, but they were often hunted until the last decades.

You, however, expected that half of the Task Force was made up of humans, and the rest monsters. You were wrong, really wrong. The moment you stepped out, you realized how unfortunate - maybe fortunate to be stuck with broad, strong, and handsome men - you were to be the sole human. Perhaps it was the shock or the honour that made you freeze and shy away, but neither of them could make you feel as prepared as you should be for officially joining them.

"Welcome to the Task Force, Hunter!" Price yelled over the beating blades of the helicopter, blue eyes staring at you with a - sinful, you found it sinfully handsome - smile hidden under his beard. He also had a green tail that followed behind him, a long, strong tail, you mustn't forget that.

The first ones you talked to were Soap and Rudolfo, two jokesters within the group. Soap was cute, having almost a puppy-like excitement at meeting you with the way he greeted you, smiling and laughing boisterously. He was loud and warm when you first talked to him.

Rodolfo, or Rudy as he told you to call him (you stuck with Rodolfo, feeling too intrusive to call him by his lovely nickname), was Mexican, a special forces, just like everyone else in the TF. He was as warm as the Mexican sun, funny, and soft-spoken.

They had an accent, one a light Mexican and the other a deep Scottish slur in his words. Rudolfo incorporated Spanish words in his sentences, easily understood but adorable nonetheless. Soap's Scottish accent was thicker, deep with his jargon that you sometimes questioned if he was even speaking English.

You only found out that they were monsters when they were training outside. You watched Soap turn from under the shades, eyes keen on his rippling muscles and cracking bones. His jaw shifted, it grew longer and his ears pointed up, light brown fur sprouted from his skin and his mohawk traveled farther, turning into a mane. You could hear the whines and grunts from his transformation.

A werewolf, you learned. He had enhanced strength. He became more durable and agile. He had accelerated healing, almost ten times the speed of regular men, and his senses seemed to have heightened significantly. It looked painful, you concluded so from the bodily sounds and his moans. The heat he exhumed was searing hot, it turned the air around him into mist, burning the water in the air and turning it into gas.

Soap had heard you gasp and awe at his form, broader and taller, he towered over you when he stood on his hind legs. His eyes glowed a vibrant blue when they met yours, waiting and gauging your reaction, but he could only see awe and admiration, perhaps a dash of excitement beneath your gaping expression.

He padded towards you, lurching forward and sending you tumbling on your back as his tongue lolled to the side and hung from his panting maw. His shoulders shook, abdomen flexing rapidly, it looked like he was laughing. At your reaction, or you, you didn't know, all you had in kind wa the urge to touch him. He looked so soft.

It was ironic in some sense, for the man - now creature - who feared dogs to be a werewolf, a larger, more dangerous, and fantastical counterpart to the domesticated dog.

"Can I pet you?" the words fell from your lips before you knew it, your face flushed and your body seized in embarrassment.

Soap huffed and pushed his snout to your shoulder, lowering his head in approval. He would let you pet him, and you took it without complaint. His fur and mane were soft, maybe the softest you've ever touched (you grew up hunting with your father, you knew for as well as any other hunter). It was soft and silky, he had taken great care in his grooming.

He let out a satisfied rumble when he saw you smile, a childish wonder in your eyes. You were so captivated by Soap's looming form over you that you almost forgot about Rudolfo - keyword: almost. Something wet had nudged your elbow, you turned and saw a smaller dog, ghostly pale with glimmering, blue gems for eyes. It looked like a mix of a lab and a shepherd, the combination making this white dog adorable.

Your eyes observed the whole length of it, from its head to its tail, a long whisp-like swirl that turns blur at the end. It connected the dog to Rodolfo. You didn't know what the dog was. Was it a spirit? Or was it a familiar?

"Cadejos, Hunter," Rudolfo answered your silent question, smirking at your petting the spirit with one hand while the other scratched behind Soap's twitching ear. "Dog spirits. I'm their vessel."

That meant he was more human than Soap was, perhaps almost as you. You still gave him an awed look, amazed by the possibility of becoming a vessel for mythological beings and spirits.

You only truly found out whether or not Ghost was human or a monster on a mission. You were sent along with a team led by your Lieutenant to capture a standing AQ cell, one of the few that still stood without their leader.

You were, along with other sergeants, corporals, and privates, separated into two teams, Alpha and Bravo, one led by a sergeant and the other by Ghost. He had you follow him close, a way to watch how you did on the field. You made quick work of them, they were weak, disorganized, and fought with each other when they had no one to lead them. A pity for what used to be a big problem.

You were left on your own, Ghost having gone north to search for something. You had taken down the surviving men, pouncing on them in the dark. When you were done, you wiped your blade on your forearm, cleaning it from the iron stench of blood.

"Could've left one alive, Hunter," Ghost's deep growl made you jump, twisting to meet his dark eyes. They seemed endlessly black, like a void of darkness. "I'm bloody hungry..."

He crept closer, steps slow and purposeful, as if trying to spook you. He stopped before a fresh body, one you muffled and stabbed. The body was still warm, blood pooling from the wound and eyes glossed over with death.

"Hungry, sir?" you asked, unsure of what he meant or if he had muttered it to himself.

He hadn't replied, head turning to examine the rest of the corpses, strewn around you like a gift. A growl rumbled in his chest, mist rolling off his body like a crashing wave. It filled the area around you and tickled your feet in its cold, dark embrace. You watched the fog cover the laying corpses, dissolving and swallowing them into its murkiness.

When he meant by hungry, he actually meant eating humans, you shouldn't have been surprised, a was a wraith hybrid. Spirits of the dead that hate and haunted the living. It made more sense when he told you to let one alive, wraiths preferred living souls, dead ones were still filling but tasted lesser.

"Clean kills, " he finally spoke, his voice a timber lower than it was before his dinner. "Good job, corporal."

You nodded at him, stomach fluttering with his compliment, a praise from such a man - monster - was a prize, something he rarely gave to other soldiers. You smiled under your gaiter, you wore it for better protection in the sandy deserts of Al Mazrah.

"I'll remember leaving some alive next time, L.T."

He craned his head to look at you before he left, eyes squinted in what seemed like a smirk - devilish, you hoped - and gave you a firm nod. You scrambled to follow him, watching his broad, dark back as you walked a few steps behind him. He hadn't spoken a word to you since you got to exfil, but once you landed at the base, he motioned for you to follow him with the jerk of his wrist.

Ghost wasn't so bad if you got past the glaring image of danger he portrayed and the growls he gave. You couldn't wait to work with him again or with the others.

Gaz was a harpy, a very interesting and useful monster to have on your team. He was nice, not as chatty as Soap was, but he talked to you and smiled your way. His caramel-dipped smiles were to die for. He was easy to talk to, by far easier than your lieutenant had been at the start.

You saw him a lot in the rec room, sipping on tea or scrolling through pages on his phone. He was comfortable with you as you were with him, he let his talons out, lounging with his wings across the couch or over your lap as you cleaned them for him. The ever-so-teasing gentleman had a way with his words and his wits, often leaving you flustered or annoyed at his jabs.

Being a harpy meant he was light, bones hollow yet sturdy enough for a human body fitting his strong and slimmer frame. He could fly, and he became much more agile, more so than Soap's werewolf form (birds were naturally more graceful than canines) and he had a telescopic vision, razor-sharp and precise, more than any humans or monsters could have, it rivaled the falcon's keen sight.

If he was so light, agile, and all-seeing, without forgetting he could fly, how did he manage to fall from a helicopter not once, but twice? That question bothered you often, lingering at the back of your mind like a ghost (more so than the wraith himself that kept appearing at random and old moments behind you).

"You can fly, right?" you stared at his face, blank of any expression after finally mustering the courage to ask him.

"These wings aren't just for show, " Gaz hummed, leaning back into the chair that he brought out to watch Soap and Ghost spar. You would have your turn with the wraith after their matches.

"Then how do you manage to fall from a heli twice?" you shot, brows scrunched in a frown, confused.

His wings jerked, black feathers twitching at the reminder - an embarrassing one - of falling out, smiling sheepishly. He simply shrugged, every limb stretching, his wings lengthening to his whole span and toed talons stretching and curling. You were struck by its sharpness, his long nails and claws could cut a man in half, or completely sever a limb off.

You guess you'll never have an answer to your question, he could keep his pride and you could keep your question to yourselves. You wouldn't mind doing so, he let you preen his wings, you could touch those soft feathers and pluck dead or broken ones from his perfect plumage.

Alejandro Vargas, an unmarried and very eligible bachelor with a smooth tongue and a growl of a Mexican accent. He seemed almost too real to be true when he smiled charmingly your way, his perfect, white teeth glimmering under the yellow bulbs and his shiny, sweat-coated skin glowing golden after a mission.

Alejandro's a chivalrous person - and they said chivalry was dead - he's caring and protective. The Los Vaqueros, cowboys, were his team in Las Almas, a family that grew with every new batch of recruits and men and women devoted to the small village they grew up in. Mexicans were a tight-knit community from what you've seen in Alejandro's and Rudolfo's stories.

He was good, handsome, and strong, maybe too perfect to be human, and human, he wasn't. He's a shifter, like Soap, a full-bodied shifter from human to monster. Not unlike his human side, his Nagual side was mighty and honorable, a greater man and an even greater Nagual.

Although solitary by nature, Alejandro was a sociable character, the life of the party if he could, but he was also a responsible man. He was tall, but taller when shifted, claws sharp and a tail helped him balanced.

Once, you'd seen him shift, yellow and brown-dotted fur sprouting from his skin. His lower jaw had protruding canines, standing proudly over the ridge of his nose. He looked like a jaguar hybrid, wearing his golden fur like a crown

His other one, a panther, a jaguar born with more melanin than the usual one, was just as majestic. His fur was a darkened grey with black spots dotting his back and tail. He tended to use this form in darker places, or at night, hitting for efficiency and silence.

Captain Price, you knew he was a monster since your arrival, his long, green tail dragging behind him. You never bothered asking whether he was a lizard or a dragon, you only knew that his scaly tail was reptile-like in origin.

His smoking habit, girthy cigars burning and smoking at the edge, his chapped lips wrapped around the base of it as dark smoke leaked from the sides of his lips, curling in the air and around his beard.

Sometimes, there would be smoke without his cigar being lighted, a dry and unlit stick that still smoked. Charred gas, too dark to simply be cigar smoke. It came from him, inside, you concluded. Dragons could breathe fire and smoke, create it from within and push it out. Stirring around the mass of heat could feel overwhelming, warm, and uncomfortable without a release.

"Why cigars?" Price coccked his head, bro lifted at your question. "Helps me curb the need to burn." He breathed out another cloud, watching it swirl around his golden eyes. He explained it well and simply. Though he also liked the taste of it, an authentic, earthy texture.

Other than the occasional scales here and there that popped out, you've never seen his shift. Did he turn and grow like Soap and Alejandro? Did he change like Ghost and Gaz? Or did he have a dragon spirit? You were, albeit worried about prying, curious about your Captain's change.

Your chance appeared when he called you to his office, wanting your help with something related to his wing- wings? You weren't expecting much, maybe seeing a glimpse of the tip of his wings or the sharp edge of his horns.

He was leaning against his desk when you knocked on his door, letting you in with a sharp grunt. He was hunched over his desk, his wing, green and wide, stretched out. His bucket hat laying on his table, letting his horns grow out and curve upwards, both green and shiny. His tail was violently and anxiously swishing back and forth, hands and arms overturned with scales. His fingers turned green and callused, his nails became sharp claws and tinted green.

"You've got softer hands than any of those blokes, Hunter," Price said, his reason for calling you was for your talented hands, skilled at massages and with the knife. "Lost it in a crash, 's fine."

Although for a reason, you still got to see every part of him, hear the story behind his missing wing, and share a few pleasantries. He groans and grunts during your sessions, but the muscles on his back were less tense and strained.

Price wasn't one to brag about himself, tell his exploits to others, but yours, he did, how skilled your hands were at loosening the knots on his back and shoulders, turning them putty under your palms. Soap had come rushing, following your scent until he found you, for a massage like the one Price got.

You sighed, this wasn't what you signed up for, the sudden rush of adrenaline or scares they would cause, popping or jumping out of nowhere when you had your back turned. Some - Soap, Rudy, and Gaz - were mischievously childish, loving pranks as much as they did them. You'd get white hair before you hit your late 20s.

Fortunately, the three others were far more mature, one charming, one broody, and one proud. You don't regret joining, even with being the weakest and only human in the Task Force, the 141 was your family, a dysfunctional one with an occupational hazard, but still a little family.

After all, big, broad men working by your side on a daily had its perks, and brought a big, horny problem.

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urhoneycombwitch · 6 days

Note

#17 from that prompt list about seeing the marks left on their partner and getting turned on has got me all kinds of 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 It feels roommate-eddie coded 👀 especially if they have their no-marks rule, but he just kinda loses control one night.

Then we torture him, walking around showing it off, telling him he can’t touch until he learns some self-control…okay, I’m gonna see myself out…

(most assuredly not @rebelfell sending two asks in a row)

foreword: Sarah I’m being so fr how are you literally in my brain… I had a blurb on this very topic set on the back burner bc I couldn’t find a place for it so here it is spruced up!!! (prompt 17 from this list)

cw: Reader has breasts, visible marks, no skin tone/color mentioned, a wee bit of choking kink, not full smut but mdni as always. oh yeah and biting 😈

___

You can feel the weight of Eddie’s eyes on your form, even as you pretend to be oblivious, leaning into the reflection of the standing mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

A few swipes of your pointer finger and your lipgloss is perfect; with a smack of your lips, you straighten up again, tugging the hem of your tee down to meet the band of your jeans. “Almost ready?”

The friendly smile you turn to give Eddie is met with a glower, his dark brows slanted, a death-grip on both knees where he sits simmering on his bed.

“Did you come in here solely to torture me, or do you have other plans up your vixen sleeves?”

Briefly, your eyes flick to the ceiling as you turn back to your reflection, fussing with your hair to keep your hands busy. “Only plan I got is attending our beloved friend’s barbecue. Which we should’ve left for, like, five minutes ago.”

Eddie huffs. In response, you sigh, landing just-left of condescending. “Not my fault you want to fuck me regardless of what I’m wearing. It’s jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I’m basically fit for a nunnery-”

There’s a whoosh of spiced air that wafts over first, chills cascading down your spine made worse as Eddie moves in. His left hand lands on your hip, rooting you to the carpet, while the other tracks up, skirting between the valley of your clothed breasts, your collarbone, your neck…

He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, silver rings biting cold against your skin as your neck goes lax, baring a long, tantalizing stretch of it as Eddie tilts your face up and to the side.

His lips press to the sweet spot behind your ear, then follows the slope of your neck down, stopping at your shirt’s collar that hides the rest of your skin. From your hip, his hand lifts to pull the fabric aside, revealing a scattered canvas of suck marks and teeth imprints that grace the top of your shoulder.

“You really gonna show up with these? Make all our friends wonder who’s been marking you up?”

Eddie’s voice is low, but you’d be a fool to mistake it for softness.

Another shiver licks along the length of your body, and this time Eddie feels it; he presses in closer, hand sliding from your chin to hold just under your jaw as he meets your fluttering eyes in the mirror.

“What’re you gonna say, hm? If Robin asks where they came from? If Steve makes a jock-y comment? If you get teased?”

It’s not like you haven’t been in this situation before- attending events with mutual friends, having to act like your roommate hasn’t been the one checking all your boxes, making up excuses for being late or looking like someone had been using your body as their personal chew toy.

You’ve always made excuses- pretty seamless ones, if anyone’s counting. You don’t even try to squirm away when you respond, swallowing around the light pressure at your throat- “I’ll tell them what I always do. Blind date hookup, one night stand, my dentist’s cousin’s friend that I’ll never see again-”

Eddie bites into the soft flesh of your upper shoulder, hard, free arm wrapping around your midsection like a seatbelt while his other elbow digs into your chest, hand still wrapped around the column of your throat.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush, white-hot adrenaline surging with the sting of the bite, body stiffening against the restraints of Eddie’s arms as you grit out, “Asshole!”

It sounds too whiny and pleasure-soaked to cause any real alarm, Eddie grinning into the curve of your skin (bastard) before tsking, kissing over the thumping mark in partial apology. “Mm. I think you like it. I think you get off on parading our little secret around the poor folks who don’t know any better-”

“As if you don’t.” Eddie may be the one doing most of the biting but you’ve got the bark to match, glaring furiously at the reflection of his maddeningly-cool black-caramel gaze, even as the pressure on your windpipe increases with a minute flex of his palm.

“Yeah. Y’got me there, princess.” His eyes flit across your exposed skin, like he’s trying to memorize all the shades and colors of you combined with the wreckage of his handiwork. “Maybe you should cover up some more. So it’s just you ‘n me who knows what’s under here.”

The cotton collar snaps back into place, covering almost all the evidence (save for the tail end of a day-old scraped hickey). Eddie releases your jaw and takes a step back, the warmth leaving your body all at once, frozen where you stand until sense returns.

You clear your throat before speaking, irritation prickling as you set to fixing your hair again from where Eddie’s interruption had stalled. “Whatever. Fine. But I’m only changing because it’s gonna be cold later, and a long sleeve will be better- not because you told me to.”

“Fine.” Eddie adopts a neutral tone as he settles back onto the mattress with a bounce, tugging absently at the inseam of his dark jeans to relieve some of the mounting tightness. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” you snap back, turning from the mirror on a socked heel, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy on the bed. “And you better have your boots on by the time I’m changed.”

With that, you flounce from Eddie’s room in search of a more conservative neckline, while Eddie pouts and pretends to have the will to disobey you for all of five seconds.

And then he’s up, trudging to the bureau reluctantly to source a pair of socks while scheming for the perfect excuse to take you both on the extra-long route to the barbecue.

#Bitey McGee over here #they’re so sick and in love #when will they realize…#not for a long ass time bc mommy needs content 🥰#roommate!Eddie #roommate!Eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #lu’s anons #rebelfell 🪽

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theshortstack · 1 year

Text

something about masked men…like damn

I would let them run me over for fun

Still learning about these so

#Sleep token #masked men #simon ghost riley #rain ghoul x reader #the band ghost x reader #the ghost and molly mcgee #dewdrop ghoul #ghost bc #ghost #ghost fanart #sleep token worship #sleep token band #vessel sleep token #konig fic #konig smut #kolkata #konig x reader

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thebaileybugle · 10 months

Text

Pushin

Pairing: L. Jethro Gibbs

Warning(s): None but some handsome peepaw fluff

Request: Can I please request a Gibbs x F!Reader where the reader has Pneumonia and she just can’t stop coughing and Gibbs takes care of her and is just super sweet and soft with her <3 - Anon

A/N: Everything is coming out at the same time, the break was entirely too long but here are the pieces ya'll have been waiting for

You were typing away an email to Agent Pride to wish him a very happy Mardi Gras before a coffee cup was plopped onto your desk, only the bitter smell of coffee is nowhere.

"Drink."

"Gibbs, what is-"

"Drink. The damn. Tea."

"Bossy."

"Next step is sending you home early."

"But-"

"And I'd go with ya' t'make sure you don't pass out."

"Sir-"

"Are you pushin'?"

"Oh she's pushin boss" Tony said from his office with a wide smirk.

"Shut it DiNozzo! Let's go L/N, get your jacket- leave your files and bring your tea."

You sigh, well you try to sigh but a cough interrupts it.

You're in his passenger seat, blanket from the back seat thrown over your shoulders as you sip the hot peppermint tea.

"You can drop me off and go back, don't have to stay and take care of me." Shifting a bit, you look over to your secret lover. "Tony might get some dumb idea that's accurate to the truth."

"Don't matter, I'm the one that got ya' sick anyway." Jethro shrugs, steering the wheel to turn right.

"I told you I'd be fine without the mask." You fire back with a huff.

"I shouldn't have listened, I never do anyway why would I start then." He glances over and lays a hand on your thigh, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "'sides, promised I'd take care of you, I'm gonna hold myself to that."

"Thank you, Jet. Rule 1 part two."

"So you did, read my rules."

"Shush and drive Jet."

Gibbs drove you to his home and cooked a nice sized pot of chicken noodle soup, followed up the meal with a bath. Now, you lay between his legs, head resting on his abdomen. His hands running through your hair as a Frank Sinatra track plays in the background.

"Are you supposed to be cuddling a person with pneumonia?"

"S'not contagious, sweetheart. Let me have this moment before McGee and DiNozzo start to call."

"In that case, gimme your lips."

"Yes ma'am."

--------

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#ncis gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #tony dinozzo #tim mcgee

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withlove-amber · 7 months

Text

Peaches and Cowboy

gibbs x reader

This does take place before Jack Sloane appears in season 15

Peaches. (Y/N) only had to thank one Leroy Jethro Gibbs for that nickname. He insists it’s because she’s so sweet and kind. But, she’s pretty sure it’s because of her perfume. He calls her that only when they’re alone, neither of them want to ruin his reputation.

Her head was down on her desk, with paperwork covering every inch of her desk. Gibbs was growing concerned, because she was looking paler by the hour. Once Tony headed to interrogation, Ziva was checking out a lead, and Tim was getting an update from Abby, he made his way over to her desk. That’s when he smelled her perfume, peach with just a dash of vanilla. “Hey, peaches, you feelin’ okay?” Her head instantly rose from her desk, and she sleepily responded, “Yeah, just a headache the size of Texas. I’ll be alright. Just need to drink more water.” He was still concerned, but ultimately said, “Okay, let me know if you need anything.” “Will do, hun.”

The day went by and by the end of it, she was very excited to go home, make some soup, and crawl into a warm bed. Gibbs had the same idea, but because he was still concerned, he offered to drive her home. She was hesitant at first, saying she didn’t want to be a bother. But he insisted. And she damn near fell asleep during the ride home. She was so out of it, she didn’t even notice that it wasn’t her house. It was Gibbs’ house. Fair enough, they only live a street away from each other. She only noticed something was different when the front table was in a different spot than it was in her house. He led her to the couch, and told her to make herself comfortable. As she did, he disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared a few moments later with two bowls of soup, water for her, and a beer for him. She felt a little bad that her friend was taking care of her, but ultimately felt so grateful that he cared enough about her to do so.

They ate in comfortable silence, and after finishing her soup, she started feeling incredibly exhausted. To no shock, he noticed that she was starting to fade. He took the dishes back into the kitchen, and when he returned to the living room, found her half asleep, curled up on the sofa. He gently pushed her hair away from her face, and gently laid a blanket on top of her. He whispered, “Goodnight, peaches.” She responded with a half-hearted mumble that sounded similar to, “Goodnight Jethro.” And with that, she fell into a very blissful sleep, where she dreamt of a very familiar silver-haired, steely-blue eyed man.

Cowboy. Gibbs only had (Y/N) to thank for that nickname. She calls him that only when they’re alone, neither of them want to ruin his reputation. It was a slow day, the team didn’t have a case, so they took the day to catch up on paperwork. Sometime in the afternoon, they all took a break (minus one silver-haired boss), and took turns guessing what their favorite movie genres were. Lastly, it was (Y/N)’s turn. She correctly guessed that Ziva hasn’t watched a lot of movies, Tim’s favorite is action-fantasy, and that Tony’s was classic films. But Gibbs, she had a hard time figuring his out. But ultimately, she correctly guessed he likes westerns. Specifically, black and white westerns. “Yeah I see it, cowboy. It fits.” And with that, that’s how he became “cowboy”. Just with an afternoon distraction from the mind-numbing paperwork they had all been busy with all day. The rest of the day went by in a blur. They all said their goodbyes and went their separate ways for the night. Sometime in the evening, (Y/N) found herself in Gibbs’ basement, drinking bourbon out of an old glass, talking with not her boss, but her friend.

“Why’d ya guess I like westerns?” “Because, you have this air of authority about you, your house is bare besides furniture, you have an old TV, and you build boats in your basement. Plus, at night, you smell like bourbon.” “Wow.” “Yeah… it’s one of my favorite things about you.” “What is?” “Everything. It’s just so you.” He leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. She swiftly accepted his hug, and held him tight. They spent the rest of the night laughing and talking about anything and everything. Not a lot of people know, but Gibbs can be very talkative with the right person. He also smiles his beautiful, soft smile quite a lot. But only when he’s with her. Only when he’s with his “peaches”. And when she’s with her “cowboy”, the sun will never be able to outshine her smile.

#ncis #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tim mcgee #abby sciuto

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ncis-yp · 6 months

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Ugh (Tony DiNozzo x reader) [SMUT]

Background: you and Tony had been working in different part of the NCIS you were working on a naval base but were called on in missions to help Abby or Ducky with pharmaceutical intelligence. You and Tony have been dating a few months and wanted to try sexting. You do it out of no where to surprise the other.

This morning you decided to stay home from work. After all, the pharmacy could live without you for a day, if any thing they’d call you. In the meantime, you decided you’d relax at home and get into one of the case study’s that Dr. Mallard asked you to review. Apparently there’s a combination of pills in there that Abby nor Dr. Mallard himself didn’t understand.

Tony was at already at work, you knew. But you decided you wouldn’t tell him you weren’t going. Before you had a chance to sit in your breakfast loft with your cats, Dre and Pac, your phone was buzzing. Two texts from Tony.

Tony: good morning! I passed by the Pharmacy to say good morning and offer to get you coffee. Where are you?

Tony: are you okay?

You smirked and sent back a spicy text… if you were gonna be home, you were gonna do things he couldn’t do.

You: aww that’s sweet :)

You: yeah, decided not to go work.

You: *sent photo*

Tony sat at his desk staring at a photo of you. You’re (e/c) eyes catching the early morning light, your hair pulled back haphazardly, or how you were only in your panties and an over the shoulder band tee.

Tony: wow… you’ve got me excited.

You: excited for what? Not like I did anything special

Tony: to see you. Looking like that in the morning

You: 🥰 aw so sweet! You should come over and see me

Tony: pretty girl… you know I’m at work

You: aww but can’t you take an early lunch to come see me sooner? You know I’d love to see you.

You: *sent photo*

You were playing hard ball. Teasing innocently, but God, that picture of you was so close to the opposite but Tony couldn’t say it was naughty or nice.

His open phone held a picture of you sitting with your legs crisscrossed and you hand between you thighs. He saved it and sent it to his album of pictures of you.

Tony: god you’re gorgeous. I’d love to see you too… trust me

You: thank you handsome

You: really though … come see me

Tony: I want to

You: then do it

You: *sent photo*

Tony’s heart jumped into throat. His stomach was twisting as his dick hardens in his pants. He takes a quick picture.

Tony: (y/n)…

Tony: *sent photo*

You couldn’t lie. Right now you were extremely horny. You don’t like how you teasing Tony turns into you getting needy and he won’t stop teasing.

You: I want that. Right now.

You: *sent photo*

Tony had sent himself to the bathroom to calm down. He was at work. He needed to focus. Maybe he could ask Gibbs to be on call since his apartment is being renovated. No. Work. ..Work. …Work. He managed to get somewhat of a grip. He opened his phone.

You. Legs open. Panties off and to the side. Shirt in your mouth. You were sitting in your bedroom, floor by the mirror. Your hand was between your legs, fingers in your pussy.

His mouth dropped and his dick was rock solid again. Fuck… fuck (y/n) fuck. He thought as his cock raged for her insides. He snapped a picture of himself in the mirror his dick print obvious.

Tony: look what you do to me

Tony: *sent photo*

Tony: do you see how hard my cock is for you right now?

You smiled. You were close to getting Tony. You were actively playing with your pussy, it wasn’t just for show.

You: *sent video*

Tony stood in shock. He heard your quiet moans and whimpering in the background as you slowly pleased yourself.

Tony: (y/n) wait until I get there to finish

You: oh, so you’re coming now?

Tony: no I’ll be there after work

You: sooo then I’m not waiting

You propped the phone up and set the three second timer. Making sure he saw you in action from the beginning. You laid on your back, unaware to any of the texts coming in.

Tony: (y/n) please wait.

Tony: I swear (y/n) if you cum without me your punishment will be so bad that the pleasure you’ll experience wouldn’t have been worth it

You: *sent video*

**”fuck… fuckkk” you fingered yourself at a medium pace. Racing for that orgasm. Your little whimpers began growing into deep moans. “Mmmmhmmm Tony” you groaned as you sped up pace. Roughly fucking yourself. You began tightening, body stiffening as you neared an orgasm. “Tony” you breathe as you begin to orgasm. You sped up. Almost at a feral speed to squirt. You sprayed the phone. Crying out Tony’s name and arching your back as you did.**

Tony: I’m on my way.

Tony rushed out of the bathroom to his desk. Fanning for his keys. Rushing out of the bullpen he brushed past Gibbs.

“Where you headed?”

“(L/n) isnt feeling well, her stomach hurts a lot and she can’t remember what she ate, but she’s really aching. She asked me to pick up some bread, some medicine, and Gatorade.”

“Okay”

“Can be on call today? So I can stay with her?”

“Sure. If you miss one call DiNozzo” Gibbs standing close to Tony. “I won’t let you miss work to play bookie with (y/n) anymore”

“Yeah boss”

“Good try tho. Rule #7” he acknowledged.

He ran out the building and sped to your apartment, parking his yellow ‘66 Mustang next to your black ‘78 challenger. He knocked on your door. Your tiny figure appeared in the door way. Wrapped comfortably in a blanket. He pushed you inside, picking you up as he closed the door. He kicked off his shoes as he kissed you all the way to kitchen, he set you on the bar. The two of you rushed to get most of his clothes off. You held his head as you continuously smashed your lips on his.

He set you down on floor. Pulling off his pants and boxers. He layes himself between your thighs.

“Fuck you, (y/n)” he whispered in your ear.

“Do it then, Anthony” you whisper in his. He rammed into you. You pulled his hair as he roughly fucked you on the floor.

“Do you know, how hard I tried to keep myself together (y/n)?” He bit your neck. Your nails scratching down his biceps as he fucked you relentlessly.

“No” you moan.

“No?” He growls. “Being here, dogging you before 12:00, on a Wednesday, isn’t a clue?” He said working on leaving hickeys in your neck and chest. You were leaving bite marks on his shoulders and you tightened around him. Moans of pleasure getting louder as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. You’re close aren’t you?” You nodded. “Tell me when you’re about to. I want to hear you say it.”

Your moans turned him on so much more.

“I’m coming” you say breathing heavily.

“What?”

“Fuck, Tony, I’m coming”

“One more time.” His grunted as he gave three rough pounds in between each word.

“Fuckkk Anthony! I’m coming, I’m coming” you began to tear up. He pulled out and flipped you you you were face down, ass up.

“No you’re not” he growls as he hammers your pussy. The sound of balls slapping skin, and moans and grunts fillling the room.

“I’m sorry” you cry. “Daddy please let me come.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes” you scream.

“Then show me” he says letting go of your hips. “Fuck me like this to show me you’re sorry” you o eyed. Throwing your body back on his roughly but at a staggered pace. He could see your body spending and he decided to finish you off. Just the way you liked it.

“I’m sorry I fucked up my rhythm” he says in your ear. “I just want you to see how gorgeous you look” he grabs your hair and pulls your head up. Your back arched, eyes red, and tears streaming down your face. You screamed as he roughly pounded you.

“Look at you” he said sweetly. “So pretty for daddy ” your faced moved as he dogged your clenching pussy hole. “Sooo fucking beautiful”

He slapped your ass. Three painfully enjoyable slaps. He began to make some marks in your hips.

“Fuck fuck fuck (y/n). Can I bust in there?” He groans as you begin to pull him to the edge. You nodded. “Can I cum in that tight pussy?” He asks again.

“Yes please, Tony, please” you cry your core burned. You began to orgasm. He pulled your head up again. “Let’s cum together” he says as he began orgasming, filling you up, you were soaking his dick with your juices, squirting around his dick.

“Good girl” he says as he fucked you till the end of his climax. Thrusts getting sloppy as he pulled out. He collapsed next to you on the floor, pulling you close to him.

“I hope I didn’t go to rough on you” he said apologetically. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“I’m a little sore.” You admit. “But it was definitely worth the punishment” you giggle kissing his chest.

“(Y/n) I don’t want to have hurt you… you know that right?” Tony speaks.

“Good… please (y/n) let me know if it too rough…” your kiss cuts him off. He smiles dazily.

“I’ll text if you hurt me. I’ll make sure I’m honest about things I do and don’t want, I will punch you if you ever do some thing I don’t like that you keep doing.” You propped yourself up on your elbow, admiring the hickeys you left all over him. And your bite marks on his shoulder.

“Yes, exactly “ he chuckles. Your neck and chest were covered with marks. Your hips had light purple bruises already forming and you wondered what your back looked like.

“I love you” you say to Tony.

“I love you too, (y/n)” he replies kissing you deeply. “I’m going to run you a shower. And I’ll order Thai?” You nodded. He stands and helps you up. Starting your bath for you. Slapping your ass as he walks away.

“Mmm” you smile.

“Sexy” he remarks with a wink. Once he turned his back looked absolutely destroyed. Crazy marks lined his back, blood bubbling towards the top.

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 1 year

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Hope things are going well for you!

Could you do a Gibbs x y/n where there son falls at home and gets a broken arm and y/n feels horrible/guilty that she let it happen under her watch. He meets them at the ER where the son refuses to let him go and y/n won't meet his eye. On the way home he holds her hand and convinces there son that his cast is cool and he can ask others to sign it. When they get home he goes to play. Gibbs finds y/n crying asks him "why am I such a bad parent"

Bad Mom?

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: Mild language, blood, injury, gore, angst…

A/N: Hopefully, this is okay! I really enjoyed writing this! Sorry it took so long for me to get this done! Xx

You hum softly as you continue working on the salad to go with dinner. Jethro would be home a little later, but you always make sure he comes home to a nice, relaxing dinner.

Your guys’ son, Maddox Leroy Gibbs, was upstairs playing with his newest birthday gift. Jethro had got him a wood-carving kit and now Maddox couldn't keep his hands off it.

All of a sudden, you heard thumps before the most pained scream you've ever heard. You dropped the glass bowl of salad, ignoring the glass shattering on the ground as you race towards the crying.

There was Maddox laid on the ground, cradling his arm. You fall to your knees beside him and gently grab him.

"Baby, hey, I need you to tell me what happened. What hurts?" You ask softly.

"M-My arm!" He wails.

You gently pull his hand away as your stomach flips and your throat tightens seeing blood and bone. He screams, wailing louder.

"Look away." You demand as you stand, picking him up as you grab the keys and your phone on the way out.

You barely were able to lock the door as you run out towards your car. You get him in the booster seat, grabbing the first aid kit and quickly taping gals over it loosely so he wouldn't be able to see it.

You hurry to the drivers side, starting to drive the way that Jethro drives. You open your phone with shaky hands and dial his number. It rings and rings until it says his mailbox was full. You throw the phone down in the seat next to you as your shaky hands grip the wheel tighter as you break every driving law to make it to the hospital.

You were out of your car, running to his side of the car as you swung the door open, picking him up and running inside. Immediately nurses flank you, having you place him on a gurney before your told to move your car.

You felt irritated, but you also understood. You quickly move you car before finding your way inside. You weren't allowed to go in the room with him as they had an officer on the way to question you. You knew they thought this was some abuse case, but it wasn't. You grab your phone dialing his number again and you kept dialing until he finally answered.

"Hon, I'm in the middle of a case right now." He says irritated.

"J-Jethro, h-he fell down the stairs and he hurt his arm really bad. T-They won't let me see him! They have an officer coming to question me because they think this an a-abuse case!" You sob into the phone, ignoring the nurses who gave you the stink-eye.

"Hon, I'm on my way. Do not answer any questions. Tell them your waiting on me." He says sternly.

Before you could say anything, he had hung up. You let your head fall into your hands as you cry harder.

"I want my mom!" He wails and you stand as you rush towards him.

"Ma'am, you can't see him until you've been questioned and cleared." A nurse snaps, pushing at you.

"He's my son! I'd never hurt him! Let me see him!" You snap, trying to push through towards your son.

"Mommy!" He wails.

"It's okay, baby! Daddy's on his way!" You say as tears fall down your cheeks and big burly security guards push you back towards the little sitting area in the hallway.

They cuff your hands behind your back and make you sit as you refused to leave. You looked at the ground, your head racing as terrible thoughts went through your head.

Jethro parks his car hastily, getting out of the car as his team followed him in. He tried to get them to stay and work on the case, but they refused. Maddox was their nephew and they'd do anything for the kid.

Jethro walks in, his eyes finding you. For a brief moment, he felt relief until he saw the cuffs on your wrists.

"Take the cuffs off her, now." He barks, striding towards you.

"Sir—now!" He interrupts.

The security guard fumbles with the keys as he roughly pulls you up before Jethro pinned him against the wall. Tony grabs the keys off the floor, undoing the cuffs on your wrists.

"Don't you ever put your hands on my wife like that again." He warns.

"Hey sweet cheeks, your okay." Tony murmurs as he hugs you.

"They won't let me see him." You mumble numbly into his chest.

"They will once Gibbs is through with them." He teases and you couldn't help the small shaky smile.

"Hon, come on." Jethro says.

You walk towards him, keeping your eyes casted to the floor. His arm wraps around your waist protectively as he walks towards the desk.

"Where is my son?" He demands.

"S-She needs to be questioned." The nurse says weakly.

"My wife wouldn't ever lay a hand on our son. He fell down the stairs, kids have accidents all the time. Let me see our damn son." He snaps.

"O-Of course, right this way sir." She says and starts to lead us towards the room he was in.

You hesitate and hang back towards the doorway as Jethro heads towards Maddox who was sat up in the bed with a light blue cast on his arm.

“Daddy!” He exclaims, throwing himself towards Jethro who chuckles and catches him.

You catch sight of stitches across his eyebrows and you let a shaky breath out.

“Careful buddy, you can take someone out with that thing.” Jethro teases which makes Maddox giggle.

“I don’t really like it. It’s going to stop me from being able to do my wood carvings.” He pouts.

“I think it’s a really cool cast. You can have people sign it even! And you can take a break from the wood carving, son. I’ll get you some more while you got the cast on so we can let the supplies build up.” He says.

“Okay! Uncle Tony, will you sign my cast?” He asks.

“Of course! I even so happen to have a sharpie on me!” He exclaims with a childish grin.

Your heart aches and you sit down as you watch Maddox with soft and sad eyes. Jethro was in the corner of the room, on the phone with director as he kept an eye on Maddox as well.

You look away from Maddox and at the floor when a nurse walks in. She looks at you as if you had the plague, in which Maddox notices and frowns.

“Why are you looking at my mommy that way?” He snaps.

The nurse was taken aback as you look up alarmed. You stand, walking over to the bed and reach a shaky hand out to brush his hair away from his eyes. You leave a kiss on his head.

“It’s okay, baby.” You murmur.

He looks at you confused. He was a smart child for his age. He definitely had his fathers profiling skills, that’s for sure. He looks back at the nurse, his eye narrowing as he latches onto you, hugging you tightly. Jethro was grinning in the corner as your lips part in surprise.

“Ma’am, we still have to follow protocol.” The nurse says in which your heart shatters.

“Protocol? Mommy, what’s she talking about?” He asks, looking up at you with Jethro’s blue eyes.

“It’s nothing, baby. Mommy will be back, I promise.” You murmur.

“No. I’ll be back, buddy. Mommy will stay with you.” Jethro says.

You watch confused as he leaves with the timid nurse. Tony throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles.

“Trust me, boss will handle it. Your a good mom, don’t let them tell you otherwise.” He says.

“Are they saying your a bad mommy?” Maddox asks confused.

“I-I, no…they just have to follow protocols they put in place to keep people safe.” You explain slowly.

Thankfully, Jethro was back quickly and even somehow managed to get his prescriptions whilst filling out the discharge papers. Jethro sent the team back in the work car and was going to drive you and Maddox home. Tony offered to drive Jethro’s car home, but you settled on taking Jethro to work tomorrow as you felt guilty for calling him from work early.

Maddox was asleep in the backseat, and you were focused on the building and other structures out your window. Jethro kept glancing over, sensing you weren’t okay. He grabs your hands and squeezes it gently.

“Sorry I snapped at you on the phone earlier today, hon. I don’t want you to think you can’t call me. For now on, I’ll answer immediately if I’m not out in the field.” He promises.

“Jethro, I’m not upset you didn’t answer or that you snapped at me. I know your working on a case right now.” You say softly.

“Then what has you upset?” He asks as he pulls into the driveway.

“Nothing.” You lie, getting out of the car.

“I’ll get him. You get the door opened.” He says.

You nod, heading towards the door and unlocking it. You are greeted with blood on the ground and you immediately grab your cleaning caddy from the closet and start cleaning it up. Jethro walks in, holding Maddox. He frowns seeing your shaky hands scrub at the puddle of blood.

“Hon, I got that. Let me go put him in bed and then I’ll clean that up.” He says.

“No, it’s okay. I got it. Here, you go on up and I’ll finish this up.” You say quietly.

You move just enough so he can get up the stairs. He gets to the third or fourth step before looking back down at you concerned. His eyes find your bruised wrists and his frown deepens. He turns, focusing on getting Maddox up to bed.

“Daddy.” Maddox mumbles sleepily.

“Yes, buddy?” He asks softly, tucking him in.

“Why did the doctors think mommy is a bad mommy?” He asks.

“Because they are a bunch of knuckleheads and don’t know what a good mommy you have. Don’t worry about it, buddy.” He says.

“Daddy?” He whispers as he starts to fall back to sleep.

“Yes?” He asks.

“Can mommy give me a little brother or sister?” He asks.

“I…I mean, I’ll talk to mommy and see what she wants to do, but she loves you so much. I think she’s happy with just you.” He murmurs.

Little did Maddox know, Jethro was scared to have another one. He was scared to have Maddox after what happened with Shannon and Kelly. He barely let you in and then finding out you were pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. You loved kids and you want a whole damn school bus of kids.

Maddox goes to say something, but it was little mumbles before he was softly snoring. Jethro chuckles, brushing his hair out of his forehead before leaning down and kissing his head.

He heads downstairs to see the blood cleaned up. He goes to the kitchen where he heard you. You were sweeping up the salad and broken bowl into a pan.

“What happened?” He asks, taking the dust pan to hold it.

“When I heard Maddox scream, I just dropped the bowl and ran for him.” You mumble quietly.

“Hon, go take a bath and relax. I’ll finish the clean up. I promise you that Maddox is okay.” He says.

You hesitate, but with a stern look from him, you nod slowly. You head up the stairs, starting your bath. He finishes up the floor before he cleans up what would have been dinner. He does dishes and takes the trash out before deciding to check on both Maddox and you. He checks on Maddox first to see him sleeping.

He nears the bathroom before slowing his steps as he hears your muffled crying. He walks in and sees your face buried in your knees, suds covering your bits from view.

“Hon, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, kneeling by the tub.

“Why am I such a bad mom?” You sob.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He asks.

“He’s hurt because of me, Jethro. Those nurses had every right to look at me like that. I’m a terrible mom. There was blood, everywhere and the bone was sticking out. His screams…gosh his screams were so loud. I didn’t even notice he cut his eyebrow until I saw the stitches.” You sob.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. He’s a kid and kids have accidents. Maddox loves to run throughout the house and we could tell him until we were blue in the face not to run in the house. He slipped and fell. It wasn’t your fault. You know how many times I got hurt as a kid? A lot. We can’t protect him from everything as much as we wish we could. Things like this will teach him why we tell him not to run in the house or why not to go outside barefoot. We can only do so much. Your an amazing mom. He knows so.” He murmurs, rubbing your back.

“I can’t even look at him. I feel terrible. It’s all my fault.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault and you know that. He knows that and I know that. He knows your a good mom. He told me when he woke up briefly because he caught onto the way the nurses were treating you. He actually wants another siblings. He told me.” He says, sighing as he plops on the ground.

Your head flies up, your eyes wide as you look at him. You reach a hand out and grab his hand, rubbing it gently.

“You know we don’t have to. I know how scary it was when you found out I was pregnant with Maddox. I am perfectly content with Maddox and you.” You say softly.

“I think I might want another one. Maybe we’ll get a little girl this time.” He murmurs.

“Really?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah.” He says with a soft smile.

“Your such an amazing dad, Jethro. Maddox absolutely loves you. He always tells me that he wants to be an NCIS agent just like you.” You say with a soft smile.

“And your such an amazing mom. He tells me all the time. He also tells me how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you proud. Whether it be cleaning up his toys or helping with the groceries. He loves you and he idolizes you so much.” He murmurs.

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allofmytoxicity · 1 month

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NCIS Masterlist

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

Not what you were looking for? Go back!

Friday Night = Date Night - You and Jimmy had your first date on a friday night and have had them on fridays ever since.

Coming Soon!

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

Not what you were looking for? Go back!

#ncis #tony dinozzo #ziva david #timothy mcgee #jimmy palmer #tony dinozzo x reader #ziva david x reader #timothy mcgee x reader #jimmy palmer x reader #dinozzo x reader #mcgee x reader #ziva x reader #palmer x reader

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ncis-imagines-blog · 1 year

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#tim mcgee #timothy mcgee #ncis mcgee imagine #mcgee x reader #ncis imagines #ncis x reader #ncis fandom

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theoceanandthestars · 5 months

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Friendly Lies

A/N: This is my first post/story, I’ve written before on Wattpad but never committed to writing but I feel like this is something I can actually commit too. Let me know any NCIS requests and I’m hoping to open up my writing to other fandoms soon too. This is definitely a testament to my ability to yap. Apologies for any mistakes :)

Also, I know the timelines probably don’t match up in terms of Gibbs knowing Tobias etc and Tobias having another daughter, or maybe they do, I don’t know but I thought it was a fun idea so belief will just have to be suspended. ;)

NCIS y/n fanfic, slight y/n x tony dinozzo, tony dinozzo x reader

Word count: 1969

Summary: Fornell’s daughter, Gibbs' Goddaughter, is an FBI agent working a case with her father and Godfather and decides to help get her dad to leave McGee alone after he found him asleep on the sofa with his ex-wife (I loved that episode so much) at Tony’s expense.

____________________________________________

You’d only known Tim, Tony and Ziva for a few weeks but already you knew you’d be great friends. After only knowing them for 5 minutes the day you ended up sharing a case with both your father and godfather, you were making plans to hang out with them. Your godfather, or your Uncle Gibbs as you preferred to call him, was of course more than happy to see you and be working with you, although the protective dad act from the NCIS and FBI agents had driven you slightly insane. Although you loved the rare times when you and your father shared an FBI case, that time had made you nearly want to quit, which had driven you straight to Gibbs’ team, who were more than welcoming and friendly to you.

Now, you sat on Ziva’s desk, chatting to her and McGee while your father and godfather interrogated a suspect and Tony watched.

‘And that’s why your dad hates me’, concluded McGee after explaining to you what he described as the ‘incident’ between your dad and his ex-wife Diane. Both you and Ziva had been laughing the entire time he told the story.

‘I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Tim’, you smiled at him ‘he’s only mentioned it a few times.’

‘A few?’ Tim asked in horror, causing Ziva to snort in laughter. This topic had taken up a good 20 minutes and it had clearly been playing on his mind for a long time before that.

‘Look if you want me to talk to him I can’ you offered, trying to ease Tim’s obvious panic, but your offer only seemed to send McGee into a further state of pure anxiety.

‘No, absolutely not, that would only add to it.’ He spoke moving his chair slightly as it was currently situated next to Ziva’s desk where you were congregated. As Tim moved you gaze shifted to DiNozzo’s desk and an idea popped into your head.

‘McGee, I’m sure y/n’s right, Fornell can’t be holding on to a grudge for that long.’

‘He brings it up every time we see him!’ Tim insisted.

‘Hang on’ you quickly said jumping up from Ziva’s desk and captivating both agent’s attention, ‘I think I know how to get my dad to forget about you and Diane.’

‘First of all there was no me and Diane’ Tim quickly insisted, causing the pair of female agents to roll their eyes as they failed to hold in their laughs ‘But what’s the idea because I will do anything to make him stop bringing it up?’. Both agents’ gazes were fixed on you as you moved from Ziva’s desk to sit on Tonys.

‘Oh you wouldn’t have to do anything McGee, it would be all me’, you smirked as the two agents watched eagerly, ‘this isn’t entirely selfless though, remember when Tony told Gibbs and my dad that I’d been sleeping with an NCIS agent to try and piss them off? And it took me weeks to convince them he was just trying to mess with me and them?’, the two NCIS agents nodded, smirks growing on their faces as they pieced together what you were planning to do, ‘well I think it’s time I get Tony back for that, don’t you?’.

Just as you said this your father and Gibbs reappeared into the room and as they did, you got up from Tony’s desk and made a beeline for them, meeting them just in front of Gibbs’ desk.

‘Dad, Uncle Gibbs I need to talk to you’ you said, grabbing their attention in the most serious and anxious voice you could muster, grabbing one of their hands in each of yours, ‘I know this is really important and I want to be honest with you both’ you took a deep breath to highlight your nervousness. At this point you had captured your father’s and Godfather’s attention, squeezing their hands as you raised your eyes to meet theirs you finally said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

Now Ziva and Tim were clearly shocked and impressed by your lies, hiding their laughter surprisingly well and instead adorning looks of shock and intrigue. Your father and godfather on the other hand, with hands still held by yours, were looking at you with such pure shock your father had turned slightly white. Before they could even utter a word, you quickly continued, ‘and its Tony’s’.

At this revelation, McGee and Ziva quickly turned so that Gibbs and Fornell couldn’t see the laughter that was daring to burst out. The silence was quickly broken by a synchronised ‘WHAT?’ from the two men who held your hands. Their gazes had turned harsher, but you knew that if you wanted this to have the best effect you had to really milk it.

‘I know we haven’t known each other long’ you stated looking them both in the eyes, but were quickly interrupted by your father half shouting, ‘How did this happen?’, quickly followed by Gibbs’ ‘I’m sorry what?!’

Before you could think of an answer though everyone’s attention was diverted in the sound of a voice, Tony’s voice, ‘hey boss. Fornell. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what did y/n do? Tell you she’s pregnant? I told you she was sleeping with an NCIS agent.’, as he Tony laughed at his own joke, Tony sauntered towards his desk, but only for a second before Fornell was on him, pinning him to the wall. Tony’s face quickly shifted to panic and confusion, his eyes scanning the room.

‘You got my daughter pregnant!’, Fornell shouted.

‘What? No’ DiNozzo squeaked out as Gibbs removed Fornell from him, freeing him from the wall. You quickly shifted your eyes to where Tim and Ziva were still at Ziva’s desk, attempting to contain their laughter. You knew you didn’t have long before the two of them blew the prank, but you also knew that the damage would be done soon enough and you would have got Tony back and your dad would definitely forget about finding McGee and Diane on the sofa asleep together.

Suddenly Tony rushed over to you seeking some sort of explanation or help but before he could squeak out another word, you grabbed his arm hugging it slightly and turning the pair of you to face Gibbs and Tobias.

‘Me and Tony are in love, dad, you can’t stop our love’ but as you got to the end of your sentence McGee and Ziva had burst into full belly laughter, causing you too to crack and lean on Tony as you couldn’t stop laughing. As the three of you continued to laugh, Gibbs only rolled his eyes at your antics, shaking his head slightly and letting out a slight chuckle. He knew that DiNozzo had told Tobias that you were sleeping with someone at the agency to piss him off and he also knew that your dad had practically become a helicopter parent for a week after he had done so.

As Gibbs moved back towards his desk, you patted tony on the chest before calming yourself enough to say, ‘you should have seen your face’. Quickly, McGee walked behind you both to return to his desk, slapping Tony on the back as he continued to laugh at Tony’s expense. He stopped by your side quickly whispering to you how he was now free from any comments about Diane. Your gaze then shifted to your father who still stood in front of you both, surprisingly quite but glaring at you both.

‘Gotta keep you young dad.’ You smiled at him, kissing his check and moving back to Ziva’s desk, the pair of you still giggling and smiling. Your dad however, kept his gaze on Tony, glowering at him, as Tony seemed to continue to shrink under his glare, still looking stunned and scared. Finally his gaze shifted as Gibbs called him telling him to go down to autopsy to see Abby with him.

At first he didn’t move, continuing to stare, before finally moving when he heard his name shouted by Gibbs. ‘I still don’t trust you DiNozzo.’ Tobias said, finally moving towards Gibbs’ desk, his gaze remaining on Tony until they were out of site.

At this point you, McGee and Ziva all began to laugh again with the same force you did when your dad had pinned Tony to the wall.

‘I did not think you would take it that far’ commented Ziva, ‘I admire your commitment’. You smiled at her amongst the laughter but couldn’t respond as tony too moved towards Ziva’s desk, where McGee had now joined you and began to stare at you all.

‘Not funny guys, I thought I was going to die!’, Tony’s statement only caused more laughter though, as his hand reached his neck, fiddling with his shirt collar even though your father had only grabbed his shoulders. Finally you spoke through the laughter, ‘I told you I was going to get you back Tony and McGee needed by dad to lay off him about the whole thing with my ex stepmother, so really I was just helping a friend’ you smiled a sickly sweet smile at him before the phone at his desk began to ring causing Tony to quickly scurry over to his desk, grabbing the phone before answering.

‘Yes boss?’ he questioned into the phone, as you high fived Tim and Ziva, ‘right away boss’, followed by him quickly grabbing his things after he put down the phone. ‘Gibbs says Abby’s matched the ballistics from the gun, wants me and Y/N to bring in the suspect.’ He stated as he continued to gather his stuff. As you listened, you quickly grabbed your bag that was sat next to Gibbs’ desk, but before you could leave Gibbs and your father returned, arguing as they walked.

‘I’ll go with DiNozzo Gibbs’ your dad argued, his gaze landing on Tony, at which point Tony swallowed.

‘No you’re not’, Gibbs deadpanned.

‘Then, I’ll go with them both’ he stated as he moved towards the pair now standing together with their bags, but not before Gibbs grabbed his shoulder directing him towards the director’s office and repeating ‘No you’re not’.

As you and Tony turned and began to walk towards the elevator, he quickly began to argue with you. ‘You know your dad is going to kill me, right?’ he questioned as you pressed the elevator button, your gaze shifting to him.

‘No he won’t’ you dismissed, ‘but he won’t trust you for a while, just like how he’s been hovering over me for weeks after you told him I was secretly sleeping with someone at your office, or like how he constantly brings up that time he found Diane and McGee together asleep. I guess it’s just time for you to get a taste of what we’ve been putting up with for years now.’ You smirked as the elevator reached your floor and you stepped inside, turning slightly as you watched Tony’s face change from looking like he was about to argue, to just giving up.

‘You know’, he turned to look at you, smirking, fully grasping your attention, ‘if you were to sleep with anyone in this office, I’d be the perfect guy. You’ve already told your dad and although he’ll keep glaring at me and probably wanting to kill me, he’d never suspect that we were actually sleeping together.’ He said, waggling his eyebrows at you as you chuckled, and he reciprocated your laughter.

As the elevator doors, reopened on the ground floor, you turned away from Tony, shaking your head slightly and rolling your eyes , before simply stating, ‘In your dreams DiNozzo’ before walking out of the elevator, not missing Tony’s whispered reply, ‘oh you bet’, before he followed you out to find your suspect.

#tony dinozzo #tony dinozzo x reader #ncis fanfiction #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #agent gibbs #ncis imagine #anthony dinozzo #ziva david #tim mcgee #tobias fornell

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