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revasserium · 1 year ago

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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eyebawll · 1 month ago

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The ultimate crossover

Someone draw them together right neow these are old and I need more of them 😭😭😭

#eddei talks #no bc why do i wanna make an oc based on her #or better yet just creepypasta-fy my alice interp i never got to use #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x reader #Jeff the killer #jeff the killer fanart #creepypasta fanart #american mcgees alice #alice liddell #alice madness returns #Alice madness return fanart #crossover #creepypasta x alice #jeff the killer x reader

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shadowsndaisies · 5 months ago

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introducing gadget

a/n: a purely self-indulgent ncis x top gun crossover for those of you who might exist in this niche with me. pay no attention to how the timeline makes any sense, please and thank you.

main masterlist

cross over masterlist

synopsis: meet gadget, lieutenant commander in the united states navy, and skilled naval aviator. gadget's been around the block though, her grandfather, mike franks, was NIS after all.

the death of mike franks - (aka the idea that started this) p2p killer's on the loose, and you're stationed across the country when you get the call. [6.20.25]

db on the carrier - when there's something strange in your carrier... who ya gonna call? ghostbusters the gunny [COMING SOON]

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urhoneycombwitch · 10 months ago

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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allthingsfangirl101 · 10 months ago

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Deep Undercover – Timothy McGee

"Rise and shine, Mr. and Mrs. McGee!"

McGee and I jumped awake. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes. "Better hurry, Mrs. McGee. You're going to be late for work," DiNozzo jokingly taunted.

"Do you enjoy this, Tony?" Y/N asked as she got out of bed. McGee quickly looked away as she slipped her robe over her thin tank top and shorts.

"Enjoy what, Y/L/N?"

"Watching us play house?" She teased. "Or are you jealous that you don't get to pretend to be married to Tim?"

Y/N and McGee smirked when DiNozzo instantly stuttered an excuse. "Don't daydream about it too much, boys," Y/N teased as she entered the bathroom and shut the door. McGee's heart jumped into his throat when he heard the shower turn on.

He leaned against the bedrest and ran his fingers through his hair. He and Agent Y/L/N have been undercover as a married couple in a neighborhood heavily owned by Navy families. Gibbs put them here a month ago due to a tip NCIS received about an underground home-grown terrorist group. This group was full of civilian husbands, married to women in the Navy with big careers. Y/N and McGee's job was to make friends with the neighbors and get McGee an invite into the group. Getting an invite means looking like a proud Navy husband with a hint of anger and resentment. They had a plan in place to show that hint but they needed to build rapport with the neighbors first.

While Y/N showered, McGee went downstairs and made breakfast. When she came down, she was now in her Navy uniform.

"You don't have to keep doing this," she chuckled as she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Keep doing what?" He asked as he put the pancakes onto a plate and turned toward her.

"You don't have to keep making breakfast every morning," she smiled as she took the plate from him.

"It's what I would do for my wife," he said. His eyes widened and he quickly added, "If this was real, I mean. I'm just trying to make all of this believable."

"I didn't say it like it was a bad thing," she chuckled. She smirked as she added, "If I was to make this real, I wouldn't have showered alone."

She walked away, fully aware of McGee frozen as her words sank in. She sat at the table and started eating the food McGee made them.

"If this was real, my husband would join me for breakfast, McGee," she called over her shoulder without turning around.

"Right," McGee stuttered. He cleared his throat as he made himself a plate and walked over to the table. He sat down across from her and the two ate without saying anything.

"What are your plans for today, sweetheart?" She asked, putting extra emphasis on the nickname.

"I need to run to the hardware store and pick up a few things," McGee said not sounding so confident. He lowered his voice and added, "Gibbs gave me a list. He thinks I'll run into some of our neighbors at the hardware store."

"We don't have to whisper in our own home, Tim," she whispered. Her voice went back to normal as she continued, "It's a good idea. If I wanted to talk to some of our neighbors, I'd go to the grocery store."

"Why can't I go to the grocery store?"

"Gender stereotypes, my dear husband," she chuckled as she stood up and cleared the table. "They suck but they are what they are around here."

Y/N leaned down and kissed his cheek before doing the dishes. They went through the rest of their morning as they usually do. Soon, McGee walked Y/N out of their house.

"Good morning, Kingstons!"

In the neighborhood, they were known as Kyle and Emily Kingston. Y/N's cover was a flight instructor for the Top Gun program based on her background as a Navy pilot before she joined NCIS. McGee's cover was as a computer forensics professor at MIT. To better sell their backstory, Y/N really did train pilots for the Navy while McGee taught a class at the local college.

The two turned to see the couple across the street waving at them. "The Nelsons," Y/N whispered. "She's a Navy lieutenant who works in IT. He works in some shoe store downtown."

"Morning!" McGee yelled as he raised his hand and waved. He and Y/N turned toward each other and let out small awkward chuckles.

"Show's on," Y/N whispered. She stood on her toes and pressed a gentle kiss to McGee's lips.

"Come on, McLoverboy," DiNozzo taunted into their earpieces. "Kiss your wife goodbye. You never know what will happen at training today. This may be the last time you get to kiss Y/L/N."

"I am going to kill him," McGee mumbled as they broke the kiss. Y/N laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Breathe," she chuckled. "He's just jealous he didn't get picked for this undercover assignment. You know how much DiNozzo loves dressing up and acting like someone he's not."

"I still think Y/N and I look more like a married couple than her and McGee," Dinozzo grumbled.

"McGee makes the more convincing husband," Gibbs countered. Y/N just laughed as she kissed McGee's cheek.

"Don't forget to get more of the paint we need for the baseboards," Y/N said, slightly raising her voice.

"I will," McGee said, matching her voice level. "As long as you don't forget to be careful and to make it home alive."

"I always do," she teased as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. McGee watched as Y/N got in her car and headed to work.

Y/N was gone all day and McGee was home. Gibbs set it up this way so McGee would be the in. The group was made up of mostly husbands whose wives had big careers in the Navy.

While Y/N went to the base to train pilots, McGee did some digging on their neighbors. A little after noon, he decided to go to the hardware store. He walked through the aisles, grabbing the things from the list Gibbs gave him. His phone rang the same time it does every day.

"Hey, you," he answered it.

"Hi, honey," Y/N said sweetly. "How's your day going?"

"Oh, it's great," McGee laughed. "I'm at the hardware store now."

"Good," Y/N chuckled. "Gibbs will smack the back of your head if you forget anything."

"I'm terrified I'm gonna get the wrong wood or finish," McGee admitted. "I still don't get why you want the house fixed. We're not staying long."

"I don't care if the house is. . .Oh," Y/N said, her voice dropping. "If there's a neighbor nearby, try to talk but act as if I interrupted."

"I don't want the roof to cave in either, honey, but. . . We're not. . ."

"I think it's time to get your invite into the group," Y/N said. "Act as if I just told you I have to stay late. Be upset about it."

"Again?" McGee played along. "This is the third time this week, Emily."

"Wow," she chuckled. "Way to point out how many times I've been late. That's evil, McGee."

"Do you have to stay late?"

"What? My job isn't important?" Y/N laughed as she began to play along.

"I'm not saying your job isn't important, Emily," McGee sighed. "But we haven't had dinner together in what feels like months."

"I'm going to stay on the Navy base tonight. I'll run by NCIS and have Abby set things up. I'll be home early tomorrow," Y/N told McGee her plan. "We should move up our final act."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Having it go down when I get back after a night I don't come home can lead to a natural fight between husband and wife. That will draw the attention of the others."

"Whatever you say," McGee said. "Just be safe, okay?"

"You too, Tim," Y/N said, her voice soft.

"Call me when you're. . ." McGee sighed like Y/N had hung up on him midsentence even though he said it after she hung up. "Love you too," he mumbled as he hung up.

"Everything okay, Kyle?"

McGee looked up to see Tyler Nelson, the neighbor they waved to this morning, walking over.

"Yeah," McGee said, clearing his throat. "Emily is stuck at work. Again."

"She stuck at work a lot?" Tyler fished.

"Occasionally," McGee shrugged. "The group of pilots she's training have a mission in a few weeks. According to her, they aren't close to being able to succeed. She's just trying to make sure they make it home alive."

"Still," Tyler shrugged. "You're her husband. She should be there for you too."

"I'm proud of my wife, Tyler," McGee said a little too harshly.

"Supportive but tired husband, McGee," Gibbs reminded.

"But if I'm being honest," McGee continued calmer, "it's getting tough. I know she loves her job. She's good at it. I've seen her in training and I've seen the pilots she's trained. She's good. But. . ."

"But what about you?" Tyler asked.

"Can I be honest about something that will make me sound like a horrible American?"

"Of course," Tyler said, his voice sounding more eager. "I've probably said it too."

"Really?" McGee asked. He cleared his throat and looked around before saying, "Sometimes I hate Emily's job. And sometimes I hate the Navy for taking my wife away from me."

Tyler put his hand on McGee's shoulder and smiled softly. "It's perfectly okay to feel that way, Kyle. I have felt like that time and time again."

He patted McGee on the shoulder before walking away. Once it was clear, McGee took out his phone and sent Y/N one text.

We're in. Tomorrow is a go.

* * * * *

McGee walked out of their undercover house as Y/N's car pulled into their driveway. McGee could see Tyler Nelson watching from his kitchen window.

Y/N wasn't confused when she saw McGee in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. She got out of her car and instantly started to play along.

"What's with the glare?" She asked, not moving away from her car. "Come on, Kyle. It's not like I was at work all night and didn't call you."

"That's not the point, Emily," McGee said, unable to stop himself from glancing at the car. She needed to move. He needed to get her to move.

"Look," Y/N sighed, "I know that I've been working a lot. Their mission is almost over."

When she still hadn't moved closer, McGee decided to walk over to her. He had to move her away from the car.

"Once it is," Y/N continued, "I will request some time off."

"I've heard that before," McGee sighed.

"What if," Y/N smirked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "I told you this time it would be different?"

"I've heard that before too," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned in and whispered, "We need to move, Y/N."

"Not yet," she whispered back.

"But. . ."

"It needs to look good, Tim."

"That doesn't mean you need to get hurt, Y/N."

The two pulled apart and it was then that Y/N saw how nervous McGee was. She sent him a smile to try and calm him down. She took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

"How about I make us breakfast?" She offered. They were three steps away from the car when it blew. The blast knocked them off their feet. In order for their plan to work, Y/N needed to be knocked out by the blast.

"Emily?" McGee said, making sure his voice was full of panic. He sat up and pulled Y/N into his chest. He ran his finger through her hair as he tried to get her to wake up. "Emily? Come on, baby. Open your eyes."

"Kyle? Emily? Are you two alright?"

McGee looked to see Tyler Nelson running across the street.

"Tyler, call 911!" McGee turned back to Y/N. "It worked," he said under his breath.

"It worked a little too well," Y/N said through a painful gasp. McGee looked down to see a piece of shrapnel in Y/N's side.

"Your cover is rock-solid," he started to stutter. "We'll get you to the hospital and they will call in NCIS. Vance will send Gibbs. I can handle the rest."

"No," she gasped in pain. "You can't do this alone."

"Tyler Nelson has something to do with all this," he whispered as he gently held her face in his hand. "He's interested in me. This explosion is going to make him come talk to me. I know it. You can stay in the hospital until you're better."

"But Tim. . ."

McGee leaned down and kissed her. He broke the kiss and kept his forehead pressed to hers as he whispered, "I'll be fine."

* * * * *

McGee and Y/N were taken to the hospital. As soon as they got there, Y/N was taken into surgery. McGee waited until Gibbs and DiNozzo came running into the waiting room.

"I thought we told you two to get far from the blast," Gibbs said.

"I tried to get her to move," McGee sighed. "Y/N thought it would be more convincing."

"If what?" DiNozzo scoffed. "She got killed?"

Gibbs instantly slapped the back of his head. "It worked," Gibbs said. "Besides, she's going to be fine."

"Mr. Kingston?"

McGee looked to see a doctor walking over. He jumped up and met him halfway.

"How is she?" He asked.

"Your wife is extremely lucky," the doctor said gently. "There was only one large piece of shrapnel in her side. It didn't hit any of her vital organs. We got it out and sewed her up. We want to keep her here for a couple of days to make sure she doesn't get any mercury poisoning in her blood from the shrapnel."

"Can I see her?" McGee asked.

"Of course," the doctor smiled. "We are settling her into a room now. When she's there, a nurse will come get you."

"Thank you."

McGee turned toward Gibbs, his stomach still in knots. "I'm sorry, boss," he whispered. "I tried to get her away from the car but. . ."

"This wasn't your fault, Tim," Gibbs tried to reassure him.

"Kyle!"

McGee turned to see Tyler Nelson running over. "Are you kidding me?" Tyler scoffed when he saw the NCIS agents talking to McGee. "His wife is fighting for her life and you're already bothering him with pointless questions?"

"It's fine, Tyler," McGee stopped him. "They're NCIS."

"I know who they are," Tyler practically spat at them. He sent Gibbs and DiNozzo one more glare before turning toward McGee. "How is Emily?"

"She's going to be okay," McGee sighed. "They're moving her into a room now. I can see her soon."

McGee walked over and sat in a chair. He put his head in his hands and stayed there.

"We can come back later," Gibbs said, sending Tyler a look before he and DiNozzo left. Once they were gone, Tyler walked over to McGee and sat next to him.

"You okay?"

"No!" McGee said honestly. He stood up and started pacing. "This explosion wasn't an accident. This had something to do with her damn job. Emily has sworn her life to protect the Navy and her country. And how do they repay her?! She gets blown up outside our home!"

To sell the part, McGee kicked a chair over. Tyler calmly walked over and to McGee and lowered his voice.

"What if I told you there was a way to make them pay for this?" He asked, his voice low.

"What are you talking about?"

"What if I told you, you could take things into your own hands and make them pay for not taking care of your Emily?"

* * * * *

A few days later, McGee and the team had successfully taken down the entire terrorist cell. While they arrested everyone involved, Y/N was still in the hospital. The piece of shrapnel that had gotten stuck in her side gave her a mild case of mercury poisoning. Luckily, the doctors caught it before they couldn't reverse it. It took a lot of medication, but they eventually successfully got all the mercury out of Y/N's system.

Y/N woke up to a steady beeping.

"Y/N?" Someone softly gasped next to her. She turned her head to see McGee scooting his chair closer to her bed.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft. "Is the house still standing?"

"Sadly, no," McGee smiled. "We need to move, my dear Emily. Half the neighborhood was arrested. I told you we should've kept looking."

"You got everybody?" Y/N asked, no longer playing along. McGee reached forward and moved some hair out of her face.

He kept his hand on her face and nodded. "The entire cell is gone, Y/N."

"You did it," she smiled weakly.

"We did it," McGee corrected.

"All I did was get blown up," Y/N tried to laugh.

"It was your idea and it worked. When you were in surgery, Tyler came to the hospital and told me all about their group." He stopped talking when he saw how tired she was. "You should get some rest," he said, his voice dropping. "We can debrief later."

Y/N quickly grabbed his hand when she thought he was going to leave. "My husband is allowed to stay past visiting hours," she said, her voice breaking.

"I don't have to play your husband," he started to say but stopped himself. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Y/N grabbed his face and brought his lips down to hers. He smiled as he deepened the kiss. When he broke it, their faces were inches apart.

"We don't have to play pretend anymore. At least. . . I don't want to. I want this to be real, Tim," Y/N said, tears filling her eyes and her voice breaking.

"So do I," he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her again. This time, when they broke apart, she was smiling.

"I'm so glad Gibbs made you my Undercover Husband and not DiNozzo," Y/N said with a small giggle.

"Believe me," McGee chuckled, "I wouldn't have allowed it."

#timothy mcgee imagines #timothy mcgee imagine #timothy mcgee x reader #special agent timothy mcgee #NCIS #ncis imagines #ncis fanfic

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ncis-yp · 9 months ago

Text

Jethro x Reader (part 1)

Stakeout

Sexual tension between you and Gibbs was high since the first day you walked into NCIS. You were smart, athletic, cunning, and knew how to get under his skin. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it; you were so attractive to him, in every way. Something he knew he couldn’t have.

He had wanted to get you alone. He wanted you and your attention all to himself, and the opportunity of a stakeout was the best gift ever given.

You and the team has split in pair to watch a suspect’s movements. No one went home, you were either in the car or in the safe house location watching from afar. No in between. Of course, you and Jethro had paired off immediately, you wanted him all to yourself, you wanted him. In your eyes, Jethro was perfect. Sexy, and right up your alley.

You wanted him to tear you apart and leave your legs shaking.

“I can’t see outta this fucking telescope” you groan. Trying to adjust the lenses to zoom into a window that you swear you had previously seen movements in.

“Move (y/n)” Gibbs says calmly as he pushes you aside to fix it.

“A simple please in front of that woulda been great” you sass back. You earned nothing but a look from the stone faced man before shrugging and getting up.

“For a former marine, you’re awfully outta line” he says.

“For a former Marine, you don’t eat an awful lotta crayons for a stakeout” you responded.

“You know, I oughta smoke the dogshit outta you for disrespecting me.” You roll your eyes.

“Crazy coming from a guy that literally was a rank below me”

“A rank below doesn’t mean you’re better. I got money that says you sucked enough dick to earn a promotion”

“Oh yeah?” You challenge. “I don’t do that working for you, and I’m almost a better agent than Tony is” you open the fridge searching for your food.

“That’s cause you’ve never sucked my dick.” Jethro looks back and stares at your ass. You in jeans was always his favorite part about stakeouts and he would never admit it.

“And Tony has?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“God no.” He fakes a gag. “I’d rather snipe myself through a mirror than allow that”

“Then I rest my case” you say and dive into your burrito that you were so desperate for earlier. He radioed in saying that Tony and McGee were up to the street for the next couple of hours, it was time for you and Gibbs’ break.

He plopped down across from you.

“Yes, Gibbs?” You say as you stuff your face.

“Nothin’. We’re on break now” he admits. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. His bright blue eyes adjusting to the light.

“You know, you have beautiful eyes.” You say aloud. The tension heavy as he eyes you. He wanted to test the waters just as much as you did.

“Our kids can have them” he speaks forwardly. A corny line from an 18 year old, but it still gave you butterflies.

“Oh yeah I’m sure” you roll your eyes ignoring the heat between your thighs.

“You don’t think I notice, d’ya?” He asks.

“Notice what?”

“The way you stare. Or how your eyes move when I stand up and walk in the room” your eyes widen, you were obvious, but you didn’t imagine you were that obvious.

“Well yeah, you’re good looking” you try to play it off coolly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Yeah but, (y/n), we both know it’s deeper than that?” He sits by you. You tighten your legs together as you notice his bulge jumping in the slightest. “I mean, come on, it’s almost like you wanna fuck me” he teases.

“Yeah.” You say, swallowing hard. You weren’t usually this easily worked up. But he was too close for comfort.

“Face the facts, (y/n). Because I know you see the way I look at you” he whispers in your ear. You shudder at the feelings.

“Please fuck me” you whisper.

“With pleasure”

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kenziexoxoxo · 5 months ago

Text

Valentines day for everyone I write for lord help me

Warnings: this is pure smut no real plot this is also gonna be a lot of words enjoy and happy valentines day 😉 @schumi-angel he's somewhere in here he's towards the middle 😭

John Dutton: John is a man of simple pleasures he isn't one for buying into the valentines day shit. So his gift to you is a day in bed with his head between your thighs. "Fuck daddy yes." You moaned your back arching off the bed as John's God send of a tongue worked you over for the umpteenth time that day. He looked up at you his face covered in your arousal kissing your thigh. "Happy valentines day Darlin'."

Lee Dutton: Lee's a passionate man he loves to make sure you know how much he fucking loves you. The day starts out with slow love making then throughout the day he follows you around the ranch like a lost puppy as John gave him the day off to spend with you. That night he takes you to some fancy ass restaurant. He wore a suit which was a rare site but it was like catnip to you. You're both lucky you made it back to the ranch before you pounced on his ass. "I think I need to wear a suit more often." He teased as you rode him nails scratching down his chest the bed creaking under you two. You gave him a look which made him chuckle before he buried his face in your tits.

Ryan: He had no idea what to do for you. He wanted your first valentines day to be special so he asked your father John what the fuck he should which John just smacked him in the back of the head and said "she's your woman figure it out yourself boy." So he took ya for a long horse back ride through the fields even though there was snow on the ground and you froze your tits off. Once you got back you both decided to 'warm up'. A loud banging was heard on her door as her father's voice drifted through the door. "Ryan for fucks sake do not get her pregnant."

Jaime Dutton: Jamie was working on his campaign on valentines day which pissed you off so what'd you do you went to his campaign office in a trench coat with nothing on underneath. You walked past Christina glaring her down as you walked towards Jamie's office opening the door even though Christina was saying he was busy. Jamie looked up seeing you come in he smiled you lock the door and un tied the trench coat letting it fall to the floor. "Now you can keep working or take me home and fuck me senseless." She said hands on her hips. Jamie's jaw dropped let's say he broke the speed limit to get you home.

Kayce Dutton: Kayce hated valentines day thinking it was a waste of time he loved you and showed you every day so he treated it like any other day which made you a little sad his father John had noticed and smacked some sense into Kayce a hard smack to the back of the head does wonders. You were sitting in yours and Kayce's room when he came in tail tucked between his legs. "Listen baby I'm sorry it's just another day to me." He said getting down on his knees as he pushed up your skirt he had many a ways to make it up to you most of it had to do with his face between your thighs.

Anthony Bridgerton: Anthony the dirty basatrd has the day planned out start to finish there's only one thing he wants and it's you naked in bed. He definitely got his way. You woke up to the feeling of someone sucking on your clit you had told Anthony he could wake you up like this as it was fun. You opened your eyes lifting the sheet and blankets to see Anthony's face buried deep between your thighs eating like a stared man. Hearing the blankets move he looked up mumbling a 'good my love happy valentines day.' Against your clit before going back to work.

Benedict Bridgerton: Benedict wasn't sure what he wanted to do but then an idea struck him. Painting you in the nude. He barely out the outline done on his canvas as you decided to tease him slipping your fingers between your thighs and playing with your clit making your back arching off the chaise lounge he had you laying on. The painting was very much forgotten very fast as your moans graced his ears.

Sebastian Vettel: Sebastian was in another country for valentines day as he had a meeting with his team but he made it up to you when he got home he barely made it through the door before bending you over the back of the couch and slamming into you.

Ayrton Senna: Ayrton being Brazilian was an amazing lover both in and out of the sheets. He had taken you to a small island so to not be disturbed as he worshiped your body. He mapped out your body with his tongue having you a moaning mess in seconds.

Alain Prost: Alain decided to get a nice bottle of wine and take you out to the French countryside. In a little cottage he got a couple years ago as a way to hide from the crazy fans. You two got into the bottle of wine and not a spot in that little cottage was not used as a spot to fuck the kitchen counter, the stairs, the bed, the bathroom, the living room there was not a spot that didn't see your naked sweaty bodies.

James Hunt: James oh boy James was excited any day he could spoil you extra without people giving him dirty looks he fucking loved. Today was no different he spoiled you beyond belief. The day ended in your favorite way on all fours with James pounding into you like a feral animal cigarette in his mouth as he fucked you.

Niki Lauda: After Niki's accident he'd become self conscious and hadn't really wanted to be intimate. You were dying to have your husband again. He got back from a meeting with Ferrari and you were waiting for him in a little lace set. He felt a tent form in his pants immediately. You got down on your knees unzipping his pants. "Baby I-" He cut himself off as he moaned from your mouth wrapping around him forgetting about everything else besides fucking you again.

Daniel Riccardo: Danny Ric loves a good laugh so he spends most of his day making you laugh and smile before he has you begging you to cum. "Please Danny please I've been a good girl." You moaned your ass in the air as he ploughed into you from behind. He smirked smacking your ass. "Yes you have but hold on a little longer." He said his thick long Australian fingers coming in contact eith your clit.

Kimi Raikkonen: Kimi although called the ice man is a man who loves and worships his girl. He is not one for holidays though so he treats it as any other day till that night where he'll take melted chocolate and drizzle it over your body licking you clean.

Toto Wolff: Toto is a man who loves to spend money epically on his woman. It's start out small a little gift in the morning and just get bugger and bigger till he probably bought whatever car you wanted and is now fucking you in said car. "Toto yesssss." You moaned as sat in the passenger seat in Toto's lap riding him. The car shaking ad his face was buried in your tits.

Mika Hakkinen: Mika being Finnish isn't one for showing a lot of emotion or talking a lot not unless it's you then he'll talk your ear off. He made sure the day was special his gift to you was finally agreeing to having a baby. "Yeah you want my babies don't you." He growled in your ear as he pounded into you.

Jenson Button: JB loves valentines day and goes all the way out there and I mean out there. Chocolates, flowers, jewelry you name it he gets it. His favorite thing is to fuck you with the new jewelry he bought you watching it shine in the light as he pounded into you.

Lance Stroll: Being a billionaire has its perks one of them is home being able to spoil you rotten whenever the fuck he wants and epically on valentines day. He bought you a new remote controlled vibrator and decides to use it during you fancy Italian dinner in Italy as he flew you guys out for the day. He turned up the the intensity making you squirm and roll your lips together as the vibrations got worse and worse trying to keep your body still as you looked right into hisneyes as you came.

Nico Rosberg: Nico took you to Monaco where he wined and dined you all night and made you feel like the most special woman in the world. The night carried on back at his place as he fucked you against the huge window that over looked the street people below having no idea you were getting railed. "You like this don't you having the chance someone will look up and see you getting fucked yeah you're so wet."

Oscar Piastri: Although he is a quiet man he sure does love to show you how mich he loves you and today is no different he decides to spend his day in between your thighs. "Are *moan* you gonna do this all day?" You asked while arching your back off the bed. Oscar only nodded continuing his work.

Lando Norris: Lando had a full day of being in bed having you in every position he can. He had you in the snail position going as fast as he can his curls a mess all over his forehead. He growled as he came deep inside you. "I hope you end up pregnant." He whispered in your ear before flipping you for doggy style.

Mark Webber: Mark wanted to spend the whole day between your thighs that's what he wanted for valentines day giving you aussie kisses 😉. He was merciless going at it for hours barely letting you calm down before he started up again the perfect gift for him.

Franco Colapinto: Franco was something else he woke you up giving you mate. The day went on and he gave you little gifts all day long. Till that night when he gave you the best gift he proposed so the night ended with you two tangled in your shared sheets him slamming his hips against yours making the most lewd noises he could knowing how much you love when he's vocal.

François Cevert: The Frenchman is a bit of a master of valentines day. The day starts with your favorite flowers and candies before he treats you to an amazing breakfast on bed which turns into slow love making as he whispers praises in your ear. As the day goes on he loves up on you a lot saying he just wants you to feel special on valentines day. Then once the sun sets he has you pinned down in bed the French doors open to let in a nice breeze from the south of France air as he slams his hips into yours in the most delicious way.

Lewis Hamilton: Lewis loves to leave hickies so that's how your day is spent him aucking your skin till it was deep purple pretty much with his marks he even hickied a LH44 down your spine as his hands kneeded your ass.

Carlos Sainz: *smooth operator plays softly in the background* Carlos made sure the day was extra special with pancakes in bed beautiful red roses and slow love making. Smooth operator played in the background as he timed his thrusts with the music. "Feel so good mi amor."

Charles Leclerc: Charles spent most of the day trying to make it perfect for you but like Ferrari's strategy it went out the window. So you two opted to just stay inside and enjoy each other and then welcomed your first child together that November.

Michael Schumacher: Michael was excited for valentines day with you this year why you ask cause he had the whole day planned for you two. He had bought you a matching set in red having you parade around the house in only that all day long before ripping it off you and fucking you dumb. "Yesss daddy right there." You said withering under Michael as he pounded into you he felt himself get harder when you called him daddy.

Jack Doohan: Jack was never much of a romantic never really having been in a relationship besides his ex gf but that was toxic relationship so nothing he did for valentines day was right so he went all out for you hoping he'd get at least one thing right. But your favorite gift was having him all to yourself for a day and getting to cuddle and then fuck till your little hearts content.

Fernando Alonso: Fernando was definitely a Spanish lover through and through your day was filled with sweet love making and amazing food. His favorite putting chocolate on your body and little cut up strawberries so he could lick and eat them off you.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs: Gibbs is very old fashioned so he bought you red roses and chocolates you two soent the evening in his basement building his boat. Since he had to work that day as always but he made sure he took a lunch break to have lunch with you. And once you both got more and more frisky he fucked you up against the boat.

Tim McGee: Tim wrote you a love letter and left it for you as he had to work. But once he got home his attention was all on you and making you feel good. His long fingers working you over time and time again till you were a blabbering mess.

Dwayne Pride: Dwayne kinda sucked at valentines day but he was trying just for you. He woke you up by covering you in kisses. He kissed every inch of your body like he was trying to mark it to memory so he could never forget you it lead to his face being buried between your thighs for hours.

Kevin Costner: Yours and Kevin's valentines day was spent with you in labor and giving birth to your first child and his 8th. You had started to lactate and while the baby was sleeping you became engorged and he decided to help you out. "Fuck thank you." You moaned as his lips sucked helping relieve some of the pressure in your tits his hips rutted against the bed as he tasted your milk.

Glen Powell: Glen loved to cook so he made you breakfast in bed before taking and making slow and sweet love to you before having to go to set to film.

Ian Bohen: Ian was in the middle of filming the next season of Yellowstone so you two had a little phone sex date instead of seeing each other rin person both finishing together over FaceTime.

Wes Bentley: Wes was a passionate man and loved to fuck you hard and slow epically on valentines day. He soent the day worshipping your body in every way he physically could.

Mike Dodds: Mike had to work most of the day so he didn't get home till late but he was in his dress blues which you loved and almost pounced on him as he walked into the house he handcuffed you as he pounded into you like a mad man.

Silco: Silco was not one for holidays that included valentines day he could careless but he will say he does love the fact that your wore something skimpy that day he watched you all day in a short little skirt and crop top wanting to just bend you over and fuck you so that's what he did he locked his office door and you were bent over having his cock shoved in you in seconds.

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axicallian · 4 months ago

Text

Human Database [NCIS x Male Reader]- Yankee White 1/2

M/n watched as Tony tried again to the reach their boss over the phone. While he packed his stuff to travel to the crime scene he heard his coworker explain the situation.

"Navy Commander carrying the football on Air Force just carked in the air," He explained into the telephone. A pause before he continued speaking, "Wichita, Kansas, the President's transferring to the back-up bird. M/n booked us on a 1500 United flight on Reagan and that it stops in Dallas, Texas before heading to Wichita." Another pause before he sighs while putting on his jacket, "He booked it not me. If we had our own jet.. Alright," Tony hung up the phone.

"'That's the best you could do?'" M/n guessed with a small smile, as Tony let out a chuckle.

"Word for word," He confirmed, throwing the keys to M/n.

"Nice! I get to drive!" He cheered, gathering his stuff, ready to bolt to the car.

'Attention, passengers. This is a gate change announcement..' sounded throughout the airport, mixing with the messy ambience.

"FBI, CIA, DEA, ATF, even NYPD have private jets," Tony complained, heaving several bags off the escalator.

"Look, 36 cents a mile. You wanna drive?" Gibbs stated simply.

"It's humiliating," He argued, setting his bags down in front of the TSA officer.

"It'd be less humiliating if you had less shit.." M/n grumbled under his breath.

"This isn't all mine. Most of it's for the crime scene," Tony retorted.

"Then why do I only have one bag," the (H/C)nette prodded, sticking his tongue out.

"We're LEOs," Gibbs spoke over his two childish coworkers to the security officer.

"I'm a Capricorn," The officer replied dumbly.

"Are you stupid? LEO is short for law enforcement officer, idiot," M/n said bluntly.

"You new at this Dennis?" Gibbs asked condescendingly while Tony displayed his ID.

"First week," the man confirmed, feeling little to no shame. He read the group's identifications, "'NCIS'? Never heard of it."

"That's embarrassing," M/n commented leaning toward Tony.

"NCIS anything like CSI?" The TSA officer asked genuinely.

"Only if you're dyslexic," Tony replied, struggling to lift his suitcase.

"Or stupid," M/n added while helping his coworker with his bag.

"Okay. You can go ahead and go around the metal detector, but your bags have got to go through the scanner." The officer gestured, ignoring the rude comments.

"Wait a minute, you're letting us take weapons aboard but you want to scan our bags?" Gibbs clarified.

"Well, you've got permits for the weapons but you don't for the bags," Dennis replied simply.

"We really need our own jet," Tony repeated with an 'I-told-you-so' look while he heaved the suitcases up to send through the scanner.

"I second that," M/n groaned, lifting the heaviest bag to the conveyor belt.

Ducky, the Medical Examiner called from the other side of the security checkpoint, "Dennis! Those bags are mine."

"Why didn't you tell me you were schlepping for the Doc?" The TSA officer asked, "He's got a bag permit," he stated obviously.

"Move it, men," Dr. Mallard commanded while Tony and M/n smiled to each other and followed quickly after the older man. "We don't want to miss our flight," Ducky commented, smirking.

The jet was sat on the wet pavement which reflected the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles that surrounded it. An accented voice could be heard from inside the plane, "Uh, I don't give a damn which one of you is boss. You ain't moving this body until the M.E. says you can."

"You talking about me, Elmo?" Ducky asked, entering the plane with Tony, M/n, and Gibbs on his heels.

"Ducky! How'd you like those steaks I air-expressed you?" The owner of the accented voice, Elmo greeted.

"Ah, delicious!" The Doctor replied, removing his jacket and tossing it to Gibbs. He got down onto the floor to start performing an examination while M/n and Tony worked around him, marking the crime scene and helping Ducky.

"Uh, Agent Fornell here is FBI. Agent Todd, Secret Service. Ducky, they've been fighting over this body like two hounds over a t-bone," Elmo introduced the other people who stood watching the dead body which looked like a young man. His skin was now jaundiced and foam stuck to the corner of his mouth.

"Well, it's our t-bone for the moment," Ducky commented humorously.

"All these LEOs are contaminating the potential crime scene," Gibbs informed.

"Oh yes, my assistant's right. Everyone who boarded in Wichita will have to evacuate the plane," The old M.E. confirmed.

"I'm not going anywhere," One of the people in the crowd argued, a balding man who had been introduced as Agent Fornell.

"I flew in on it," The pretty brunette, Agent Todd argued.

"Very well, you two can stay. But everyone else must deplane," Ducky asserted.

"Alright, you heard the M. E. , let's move it boys," Elmo motioned the audience out. "Ducky, what do you think?"

Dr. Mallard examined the deceased body's chest and skin for abrasions or wounds, "No outward sign of trauma," He noted.

"He was stricken after having lunch with the President," Agent Todd explained.

"Yeah, how is the President?" Tony asked, look up from the scene.

"He's fine. His physician cleared him to fly on to L.A." The Secret Service Agent reassured.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked hoping to get more details. Fornell, Gibbs, and Todd stared at each other awkwardly before the brunette started explaining.

"When the Commander returned from lunch, he had an equilibrium problem and his grip was too weak to hold his briefcase," She recalled with detail. The way she spoke caught M/n's attention, sophisticated and professional.

"Did he gradually become ill, or was it sudden?" Ducky interrogated as he stood to face her.

"Sudden. He started to convulse and collapsed. The President's physician believed that the Commander had a stroke," She replied.

"Kinda young for a brain fart," Tony noted, causing M/n to stop taking notes and hold back a giggle from the use of the word 'fart'.

"Looks like a natural death to me, Elmo. They can leave with the body as long as they sign releases," Ducky evaluated.

"Why the hell didn't you say that?" Agent Fornell asked Elmo abrasively.

"Couldn't. Like I said, it's the M.E.'s decision. Release forms are in my car, "The man replied.

"Let's go. We can work out jurisdiction for Washington on the flight to Dallas," Fornell said to Agent Todd. She nods but casts several odd glances at the group around the body before exiting the plane.

"Ah, Ducky... about those soft-shell crabs?" Elmo asked the M.E.

"Ah, you'll have them by the weekend," He replied.

"Ten-four, partner," Elmo agreed before leaving.

Ducky let out an exhale and everyone stared at each other. "Tony, go on. Show the pilot your credentials, get us the hell out of here," Gibbs commanded. Tony nodded and started heading in the wrong direction until M/n grabbed him by the shoulders. He physically turning him around and said, "Wrong way, cockpit's on the top deck."

"I knew that," Tony blatantly lied.

"Enjoy playing my boss?" Gibbs asked after watching Tony's idiocy.

"I did, rather," Ducky nodded.

"You don't actually think he died of natural causes, do you? Only 9% of stroke victims are under the age of 40 and they have a higher chance to survive," M/n regurgitated an article he read once.

"I don't think I have enough information to tell, my dear boy," Dr. Mallard replied. "He could have been born with an aneurysm. They're timebombs in the body. I remember this young promising basso-perfundo in London. He was only 27 when he keeled over, in the middle on an Notaro aria—"

"Who the hell are you people?" Agent Todd stormed back into the plane.

M/n's hand was steady on his gun as soon as he saw Todd's hand on her gun. He was, however, quite proud of her for being so observant.

"You're no M.E. assistant," She declared to Gibbs. "and there's no soft-shell crab within a thousand miles," She states to Ducky.

"Sorry," Ducky shrugged.

"NCIS," Gibbs answered, showing his badge for proof, "We flew down here from Washington to take over the investigation."

"First the FBI tries to muscle in, and now NCIS," She frustratedly mentioned.

"Yeah, well, I do believe this is a dead naval officer," M/n stated simply.

"Who died on Air Force One, after having lunch with the President it's my job to protect," Todd argued.

"Okay, we can share jurisdiction. You can be on my team," Gibbs compromised.

"Your team? Why should you head the investigation?" She continued to argue, not satisfied with the suggestion.

"You've never worked a crime scene, have you, Agent Todd? So why should you run the investigation?" M/n snidely asked.

"I am a Secret Service agent," She stated, avoiding the question.

Gibbs only smirked and turned away from Agent Todd.

"Well don't dismiss me like that! Okay, I earned my jock-strap," She demanded.

"Yeah, does it ever give you that empty feeling?" Gibbs asked turning back and facing her.

"What?" Agent Todd asked dumbly.

"Your jock-strap," He answered, staring condescendingly at her.

"No. Like some species of frogs, I grow what I need," She retorted with a smile while M/n was left slack-jawed at the interaction.

"Gibbs!" Tony called, coming down the stairs and seeing Agent Todd, "Pilot won't take off until the Secret Service chick gives us the.. thumbs up."

"I think that just made it my team," Agent Todd bragged.

"No. It means we'll just have to hijack Air Force One," Gibbs countered, "M/n, escort Agent Todd off this aircraft and close the hatch," he commanded as he turned around, heading for the cockpit. Tony and M/n shared a glance as Todd chased Gibbs up the stairs.

"You're not serious. Wait!" She quickly gave in, seeing as he had no intention of following her orders, "Okay, okay! Your team, but only because I don't want to delay us further by having to shoot you." Agent Todd offered the older man a hand as a sign of obedience and comradery. He gripped the brunette's hand with his own gloved one, casting a smile small toward her.

"Damnit, Agent Todd, let's get this show on the road!" Agent Fornell demanded, ready to board the plane. M/n and Tony heard his incessant yelling and quickly intercepted him.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry. We, uh, overbooked the flight," Tony quipped while closing the hatch.

"Hope you'll fly with us again on NCIS Air!" M/n giggled, interpreting a flight attendant.

"What the hell are you doing?" His voice was barely audible through the thick metal of the plane.

As the plane pulled away from the ladder the FBI agents were left standing confused at the top. The two chaotic NCIS agent waved at them from inside, wearing cheshire grins.

Ducky, leaned down over the body, gently pushed a metal tool into the victim's abdomen, examining the result.

"Are you starting the autopsy?" Agent Todd asked in surprise as she leaned in one of the airplane seats.

"Goodness, no. I'm just taking his liver temperature to corroborate the time of death," He answered as the chaos duo, M/n and Tony walk into the room.

She stood up, checking her PDA, "The President's physician declared him dead at 20:32 Zulu."

"It never hurts to double check," The doctor says, reading the beeping thermometer.

"You're in the way of the crime scene sketching," M/n said bluntly from Agent Todd's right.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "Sketches? You've taken a dozen photos."

Tony picked up a magazine next to him with a woman in a bikini on it, "Tell me her measurements."

"You're pathetic," She simply answered.

"No, I'm serious," He retorted. M/n finished Tony's thought in a snarky voice, "Can you tell if she's 5'4" in a 35-C, or 5'7" in a 36-D?"

Tony responded, the two agents of chaos going back and forth, pissing off Agent Todd, "You can't, not from a photo. That's why we do sketches, take measurements." He physically nudged her aside sassily as the duo giggled to themselves like high school girls.

"I've got 19:50 Zulu, that's nearly an hour earlier," Ducky states, concern lacing his voice.

"Well, then you miscalculated," Agent Todd stated.

"Nuh-uh. The doc doesn't miscalculate," M/n argued, shaking his head.

Gibbs, jogging down the skinny plane steps and hearing the conversation he interrupted he asked, "What's the problem?"

"There's apparently a discrepancy between my time of death and the President's physician's," Ducky explained, rising to his feet.

"And she think Ducky's wrong," M/n accused, Todd looking back at him slightly offended.

"Log yours," Gibbs ordered, causing M/n and Tony to grin at Agent Todd who only rolled her eyes in response. "Enough sketches, M/n, Tony. Agent Todd's gonna give you both a floor plan," the older man walked off after giving the command.

Agent Todd rushed to follow him, "Oh, no, she won't," she argued.

"Although your photo analysis isn't brilliant, M/n, isn't 36-D a bit of wishful thinking?" Ducky asked, examining the magazine.

"Probably," M/n shrugged.

"Definitely wishful thinking. 36-Ds are like.." Tony put his hands in front of his chest as if measuring breasts, "..big."

"What can you tell me about Commander Trapp?" Gibbs asked while speed-walking down the plane.

"I can't give them Air Force One floor plans, they're top secret," Todd argued while trying to catch up.

"Come on, I saw this in a Harrison Ford movie."

"Well that's Hollywood speculation, you're asking for the real thing," the brunette frustratedly tried to reason while having to keep speed with Gibbs' long strides.

"Isn't the President's head down here someplace?" the man changed the subject as he snooped around the plane.

"No," she answered with frustration.

"Now this was in the movie!" he exclaimed, walking into a conference room and putting his hands on the leather chair at the head of the table, "Yeah! Harrison was sitting right here."

"I can't risk those plans getting out on the Internet," Agent Todd stated, redirecting the conversation to the original topic.

"NCIS does not leak," Gibbs promised, "These plans get out, you can shoot L/n."

"As much as I would love to shoot him, I think I'm obligated to shoot you," she disagreed.

"What about Commander Trapp?" he inquired once again.

"Only met him this morning. He just received his Yankee White clearance and was Major Kerry's backup. The major has the flu," Todd explained

"We'll have to get a Navy doc to verify that," Gibbs popped his head out into the corridor to see that he was back where they started.

"He's got it," she says sarcastically, waving her hands irritably, "But go ahead, and-and waste a doctor's time double-checking like you're Ducky."

Gibbs stops and motions to a cabinet with a keypad, "This is where the terrorists got their weapons in the movie."

"Oh, that is as ridiculous as the President's 'escape capsule'," she sighed as he pressed random buttons on the keypad.

"Anybody switch planes with the President?" he continued to interrogate the Secret Service Agent.

"The President was put on a separate plane. Everyone else boarded the backup excepts three stewards who were put in the press cabin," Todd answered as they approached said press cabin.

"What'd you keep them for?" he opened the curtains and waved at the stewards, "Make coffee?"

"I may not know the finer points of investigating like sticking needles in liver or measuring swimsuit models, but I do know enough to hold the stewards who prepared and served the President's lunch," Agent Todd explained, "You want to question––?"

"No, they're not going anywhere. We've got a crime scene to investigate," Gibbs interrupted, walking back toward the dead body, "Rule number one, never let suspects stay together."

"Well I didn't consider them suspects."

"Why'd you hold them?" he asks while extracting latex gloves from his jacket and handing them to Agent Todd, "Put these on."

"My fingerprints are all over this aircraft," she said, finding it unreasonable to wear gloves now.

"Rule number two, always wear gloves at a crime scene."

The duo stopped in front of the body and Ducky who explained his findings, "I believe I know why there's a discrepancy in the time of death. Now since the Commander had lunch with the President, I'm sure the President's physician rushed to evaluate his condition. He also called Trapp's time of death."

Agent Todd crouched down to assess with the doctor, "Yes, once he was sure the President wasn't in medical danger, he returned and.. he was gone nearly an hour," she recalled, realizing her mistake in accusing the Ducky of miscalculating.

"Yes. I'm sure the autopsy will show that Commander Trapp expired almost immediately,"

"I owe you an apology, Doctor," she declared with sincerity.

"Oh, please, it's Ducky to my associates. I'm just relieved we straightened it out. It's inconsistencies like this to lead to conspiracy theories," He reassured. "It reminds me of a case once in New Orleans. A jealous husband shot his wife off a Mardi Gras float, right out of the clock at the corner of Bourbon Street," Ducky recalled, beginning a story Gibbs knew they didn't have time to listen to.

"Ah, doc, give it a rest. She's got work to do," Gibbs cut the medical examiner off.

"I'll tell you the rest later!" the doctor promised.

"Rule number three, don't believe what you're told. Double-check," he ordered as she followed him to the president's office.

"Should I write these rules in my Palm Pilot, or crochet them on pillows?" Todd asked sarcastically.

When they entered the room they were greeted with the chaos duo, both squished on the president's chair with M/n was sat cross-legged in Tony's lap while the latter twirled the telephone cable around his finger.

"Oh no, I draw the line at them sitting in the President's chair," she declared angrily.

"He's not using it, he'll never know," M/n shrugged.

"Gibbs!" she demanded.

"If you're finished taking pictures, start bagging and tagging," Gibbs commanded.

"Just waiting for you, boss," Tony replied, the duo getting up and grabbing bags to collect the evidence.

"Bagging and tagging what?" Todd asked.

"Well, to start with," he waved his hand at the plated food sitting on the desk, "everything. President was sitting there?" he pointed to the chair M/n and Tony were previously sitting in.

"Pretty good bet, since it is his desk," she answered sassily.

Tony offered an evidence bag to Gibbs who took it and began explaining how to properly 'bag and tag', "Okay, to maintain the chain of custody, take the item – in this case, Commander Trapp's lunch – place it in the evidence bag," he placed the entire plate in the bag, sealed it, and wrote the necessary data, "Seal it, record all pertinent information, initial across the seal."

During the explanation Agent Todd looked pale and distracted, to which M/n took notice to. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, ready for her to spill her guts.. gross.

When Gibbs turned to her saying, "Okay, why don't you try it?" she looks at him nervously before covering her mouth and bolting our of the room with Gibbs hot on her tail, yelling "Oh, wait a minute! Hey, wait! Wait a minute! Whoa! Stop!" Tony jogged after and M/n meandered to keep a safe distance. He could handle blood and whatever but not vomit. He cringed as he watched her spew clear liquid from her mouth into the evidence bag Gibbs was shoving in her face.

"Can I rinse now that you've got your evidence?" she spat irritably

"I don't even blame her, I'd be mad if someone collected my vomit too," M/n commented to Tony.

"Log it. Go find Ducky," the older man ordered as he handed the bag of fluid to DiNozzo while M/n made dramatic, disgusted faces in the background.

"You think she's got whatever killed the commander?" Tony suggested to which Gibbs only shrugged.

"Low temperature. I think it's a stomach virus," Ducky diagnosed, holding the thermometer in front of his face.

"I know it is," Agent Todd, lying across a sofa with a hand on her forehead, replied, "Did you use that thermometer on cadavers?"

"Would you rather I use the liver probe?" the medical examiner joked.

"Why you so sure it was the flu?" Gibbs asked curiously.

Todd sighed before explaining, "It's the same symptoms Major Kerry had."

"Did you work together recently?" Ducky wondered.

"No."

"Well if you didn't work with him, then how—"

"They doinked, doc," M/n stated simply as he walked into the area with a cup of chamomile tea for the sick agent's stomach.

"Did you think I was a virgin?" Agent Todd jested.

"I'd hoped not," Ducky replied, rising from his sat position.

The secret service agent sat up as M/n placed the lukewarm tea at the table near the couch arm. She half-heartedly rolled her eyes at his mischievous yet caring smile. She looks up at Gibbs, "You gonna lecture me about sleeping with people you work with?" she wondered.

The older man scoffed, "no, have you seen M/n and Tony? I ain't stopping them."

"They've slept together?" she inquired.

"Not yet," Gibbs replies with a smug grin.

A voice rang out from the plane intercoms, "Agent Todd, Agent Baer's on a secure line for you."

"Want me to take that call for you?" Gibbs offered.

"I'd have to be dead," she retorted as she heaved her heavy body off the comfortable couch and made her way to the cockpit. The older man's eyes stayed where the sick agent had left; he let a small smile slip onto his face then followed by a light chuckle.

Tony and M/n were back in the president's office, DiNozzo with his ass in the comfortable seat again and the other agent sat on the desk. The two faced one of the stewards that Agent Todd had kept on the plane.

"And how long you been on Air Force One?" Tony inquired, clipboard in hand.

"Five years, sir," the plane employee replied "two with president Clinton, three with president Bush."

He gave a slight look to M/n who gave a small nod, indicating he believed it to be truthful. Gibbs marched into the room and headed straight for the presidential toilet, not caring to give the interrogating duo a glance.

"Well, thank you very much, Chief Steward," Tony dismissed the steward.

"Yes, sir," he gives a small bow before excusing himself and leaving the room.

No longer having to look professional for the interrogation, M/n hopped off the wood desk and swung his legs over the chair arms and plopped into Tony's lap.

"What's you get?" Gibbs questioned from the bathroom.

"Food security is incredibly tight to avoid tampering with the president's food," M/n replied.

"Incognito purchases, randomly selected stores, nobody knows they're buying for Air Force One," Tony elaborated.

Ducky walked in quietly M/n giving a mischievous look before handing the equally mischievous older man the evidence camera.

"Steward usually prepare all the food but today the president had ribs and coleslaw..," Tony paused so he and M/n could pose while Ducky snapped a picture.

"..flown in from aa smokehouse in San Antonio," he continued as two duo and the doctor switched spots so the medical examiner could pose in the president's chair, "so they only reheated 'em and served 'em."

"Anybody else have ribs?" Gibbs inquired.

"Gibbs, if the ribs were poisoned, the president would've been affected," M/n stated.

"Maybe he's used to Papa Joe's Barbeque," he joked, toilet loudly flushing before he opens the door, "if you lot are through taking pictures of each other maybe we can move the body aft." The three looked disappointed before following their boss out the door.

Agent Todd walked down the stair irritably, having been just told off and yelled at by her boss. She stops in her tracks and turns to Gibbs who sat nearby, "Where's the body?"

"I don't know," He replied with exaggerated eyebrows and just as much surprise in his voice.

She gave him an unconvinced look before smiling and giggling at his dramatic performance. The older man let out a small chuckle.

"You move it to the off-ramp for a fast getaway?" Todd suggested with a smirk on her lips.

Gibbs looked around and drank his coffee with no reply but she could imply the answer. Agent Todd threw her jacket over her shoulders saying, "It won't work, Gibbs."

She sighed and slumped down into an airplane seat, "I've been ordered to turn the body over to the FBI at Andrews," she elaborated.

"You could stall them until we get off," Gibbs responded.

"No, I can't. I won't defy a direct order," Todd decided sternly but her voice softened, "I'm sorry, Gibbs."

He shakes his head, "Never say you're sorry." A gentle pause before he joked, "Ah, you don't have to crochet that one."

Kate Todd only smiles in response but it slowly fades. These people, though can be annoying, treated her far better than her current coworkers. Even the chaos duo showed care for her and now she felt as if she was betraying them.

The captain's voice on the intercom cuts though the silence, "Folks, please fasten your seatbelts, we're beginning our descent into Andrews at this time."

Both passengers buckled their seatbelts according to the captain's orders.

The plane landed on the runway where numerous black cars of the different agencies were scatter on the pavement. Gibbs bided farewell to Agent Todd while M/n gave her a big smile and a loud 'goodbye!' from his vehicle.

A black SUV sped down the highway with Agent Fornell and the designated driver inside. The driver glanced at Fornell before asking, "Why'd you let NCIS have the evidence they bagged on the plane?"

the FBI agent replied with a smirk, "Since we have the body we control the investigation. If a few ribs and coleslaw saves some face, what's it hurt? If the food was poisoned the President would-" he was interrupted by a cellphone ring. Fornell gave the driver a look but he said, "Not mine, sir."

Agent Fornell checked his own phone, "Not mine, either." He suspiciously turned to the backseat where the body from the plane was supposed to be and where the ringing was eminating from.

Tony, from inside the body bag, answered the call, "Hello?"

Gibbs spoke through the phone, "We're in the clear, you can get out of the body bag."

The driver abruptly slammed on his breaks in surprise forcing the cars behind them to stop aswell, honking angrily. At the dramatic reaction DiNozzo whispered, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm not sure I want to."

"Fine. You and M/n still have to search Commander Trapp's apartment tonight," Gibbs reminded.

Tony whined, "Oh, Gibbs, come on! It's 1:00am."

"L/n is trailing you to pick up the body bag when the FBI tosses it," the older man informed.

"That's funny, Gibbs, real funny. Especially since-" Tony's sentence was cut off by a rustle followed my a yelp.

Gibbs hung up and mused from the comfort of his own vehicle, "I guess they found him."

Gibbs sauntered into the medical examiner's room where the Commander's cold, dead body laid on the equally cold metal table. Gerald, the ME assistant, turned to the older man mid-exit with the captain's clothes in tow, "I found Abby, she's on the way in," he reported.

"Yeah, did you wake her up?" Gibbs inquired.

"No, I called her on her cell. Sounded like one phat party," he commented with a deep, smooth voice.

Gibbs and Ducky quirked their brows at each other curiously while Gerald walks into the elevator.

"Find anything Ducky?" Gibbs redirected the conversation.

"Nope, and I won't for hours," Dr. Mallard answered before lifting the stiff arm to examine it with a magnifying glass, "I've just begun examining the body for needle marks."

"You think somebody stuck him?"

"I don't know."

"Anything on the uniform?" Gibbs peered at the flesh alongside the doctor.

"Not that I could see. I've sent it up to Abby."

"What's this?" Gibbs observed a mark on the skin.

"A mole," Ducky replied bluntly, he sighed, "Gibbs, go home. Get some sleep. I would if I could, this is gonna take all night. What's left of it."

Gibbs wandered away, snatching a roll of blue paper towels that he lays at the head of one of the several metal examination tables. He laid himself on the table, blue roll under his head and let out a satisfied groan and deep sigh. He turned on his side, facing away from the medical examiner, "Ducky, why would Abby go to a 'fat' party?"

"Jethro," Ducky smiled and turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the lamp over the Commander's body, "get some sleep."

In Abby's forensic lab the gothic girl is running UV light over Commander Trapp's uniform to spot any unusual substances. The door let out a loud beep before hissing open.

"Abby!" M/n called, running up with pattering footsteps. The two embrace each other excitedly, Abby exclaiming in reply, "M/n!"

Tony walked in after the energetic agent hauling a box of sealing items labeled 'evidence.' "Find anything on his uniform?" he wondered.

"Not yet," she answered after untangling from M/n.

"Well, I have a theory of how he was poisoned," Tony set the box down on the counter and revealed the contents of many bags. "This guy had enough vitamins, herbs, and organic food to open his own health market. If he was poisoned, I think you'll find it laced into one of these."

"So what are you gonna do while I'm finding poison in a health snack?" Abby asked as she began unpacking the bags.

"Wait," M/n answered with a smile.

"There's a futon, by the cabinet over there," she offered.

"Bless you," Tony sighed with a tired smile.

"What are you, my priest?" Abby giggled.

"Curse you?" Tony corrected.

M/n dragged the futon out to the floor, a small blanket resting on top. He gently flopped down on the mattress and Tony walked over and joined him. The two snoozed gently in each other's embrace, tired from the long night.

The next day the agents, including Todd and Fornell were gathered at the NCIS agents' desks with a screen lit up in the middle. The image was a scan of the victim's brain with a small area highlighted in red. Dr Mallard pointed out the spot, noting, "My neural pathology exam indicates that our victim succumbed to a cerebral embolism. Here, in the parietal lobe. I also found a number of clots, most of them centred in the renal artery."

"Is that unusual?" Kate wondered

Oh, not at all," Ducky answered, "In most cases of arterial thrombosis, clots will develop over a period of minutes or hours, spread to the rest of the body."

"But what caused them to develop in a healthy young aviator?" Gibbs inquired.

"Abby?" the M.E. prompted the gothic girl's explanation.

"Well I did a fibrinogen test," she turned the screen to the results of said test, "The procoagulant numbers were high, but they weren't off the charts."

"Any drugs that might induce the clotting?" Agent Fornell wondered.

"Well yeah, but none of those popped up," Abby answered, "I only iso'ed the epinephrine that was injected when he got jolted and juiced on the plane."

"No vitamins? Herbals?" Tony asked.

"All store bought, none of those will kill you, genius," M/n quipped, leaning on the former's desk.

"Yeah, the guy probably whizzed green but it won't cottage cheese your blood," Abby agreed

"Did you test the food that he ingested on Air Force One?" Agent Todd inquired.

"Everything that was bagged and tagged. Ribs, coleslaw, barby sauce... it was all negative for toxins," The forensic scientist replied, "I mean, that stuff will kill ya, but it'll take, like, thirty years. Do you dudes in the Secret Service ever think about throwing yourselves in front of the President's diet?" she joked, making Kate crack a small smile and Gibbs let out a quiet laugh.

"So, you're both saying he wasn't murdered?" Fornell clarified.

"However freakish and tragic, it apparently was a natural death," Ducky confirmed.

"I want my people to check your result," The FBI agent demanded.

"Of course. You and Agent Todd will be receiving copies of all our tests," The M.E. affirmed.

"Does it for me," Fornell conceded before asking Tony, "How's your butt?"

"It's really nice actually, his pants undermine the volume," M/n replied with a sly grin, next to Tony who had an equal grin.

Fornell gave a disgusted face and turned away and left. Kate quirked a brow, surely it was a joke and even if it wasn't surely it wasn't that big of a deal. She slowly turned to leave but Gibbs began tapping on the top of his computer screen with a pack of gum. She rolled her eyes and walked over to him.

"Kate, when's the President returning?" Gibbs wondered as she plucked a stick of gum from the pack.

"Uh, tomorrow. Noon. I'm flying back tonight to rejoin the detail," she answered.

"Mind if I tag along?" The older man asked. Agent Todd thought about it before he added sweetly, "Please?"

"Wow, you got a please outta him," M/n commented from behind her.

"You can," the brunette replied, "Your Sig Sauer can't. We have a rule: no weapons on Air Force One unless they're Secret Service." She watched him put away his weapon and stuck the gum in her mouth. Gibbs swung his coat over his arm and pulled it on before following Kate, whispering to his agents on his way out, "keep looking."

"Wow, he's not gonna tell us 'please'," Abby sighed.

[WIP]

Taglist: @eternal-ems

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

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