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[throwawaywriting]

im sorry for not updating any of my fics (specifically my lv one). i have no motivation lol.

[throwawaywriting]

A/N: 10k+ word count. Smut at the end.

You were a slip of a thing. Delicate. Petite. Always had been, much to your aunt and uncle’s pleasure. It made you the belle of the ball at every high society party, and the eligible bachelors constantly vied for your time and attention. You never had trouble finding a companion to dance with, or someone to escort you through the streets of Saint Denis. But you didn’t find any suitors to be particularly thrilling or interesting and there was only so much polite conversation or strolls or painting you could do before needing to venture out of your affluent neighborhood. At the first available moment, you’d slip into one of the dresses your maid hid in your wardrobe for these instances, and sneak out of the house. Maggie accompanied you on a few initial trips, making sure you knew the areas you’d be able to explore without being in any immediate danger. But after several nights wandering alone, you were tired of maintaining another set of boundaries created just to keep you safe. Your insatiable desire for adventure caused you to venture further and further from home, eventually bringing you to wander the docks and factory district of the ever-expanding city. Nights almost always ended at the Bastille Saloon, a higher class establishment than other options in Saint Denis, but not affluent enough for your family or individuals of similar status to patronize. In other words, even in the saloon finished with velvet and dark walnut and gold, you went unrecognized. This was where you developed your habit of swiping money folds and watches from the wealthy men that never failed to approach you with dark eyes and a silver tongue. Nothing ever happened, no one ever realized you were the cause of their valuables disappearing, no doubt because the sweet facade distracted from your mischievous deeds. It wasn’t until you started to steal from men you weren’t flirting with that you were caught.

The night before your 20th birthday you were on your way home following an exhilarating evening of swiping multiple bill folds. You’d throw them down alleyways, hoping someone desperately needing the money would stumble upon the hundreds of dollars left behind. The only thing you kept were the clips, a trophy of each successful escapade. You were getting ready to toss another packet, arm darting out from your side, when a large, rough hand closed around your wrist. Another hand clapped around your mouth, stifling your shriek as a solid body pushed into your back, driving you down the alley that was going to receive the night’s plunder. You involuntarily squeaked as you were pinned against the wet brick wall, your heart leaping into your throat as terror flowed through your body.“You make a habit of stealin’ from gentlemen?”

Once your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, you finally saw the man who had you trapped. He was one of the first you “robbed” that night. Not quite a foot taller than you and so sturdy you were sure he could wrestle a bear, the stranger had dark blonde hair swept to the side, a tan face, and blue eyes so stunning they almost rivaled your own.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you said calmly once his fingers loosened around your lips. For a moment, a look of amusement crossed his rugged features, prompting an unexpected fluttery feeling to fill your stomach. He could feel your heart racing under his forearm pressed across your chest to keep your figure against the wall. A little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips when he registered your reaction was just as much arousal as it was anxiety.

“M���sure a nice little lady like you didn’t mean it,” he grumbled, the vibrations of his baritone transferring from his body to yours.

“An innocent mistake,” your blonde curls rustled as you nodded meekly, “pardonnez-moi.”

His eyes stayed locked with yours as his hand slid to meet your fingers still clutching the billfold.

“Should be,” he finally loosened his grasp on you and took a step back when the money was in his possession. When he was satisfied it had all been returned, he looked at you with a sly smile and tipped his hat, murmuring a farewell before continuing down the dark alley.

“Are you enjoying yourself, ma cherie?” Your aunt Celeste joined you on the back porch overlooking the luxurious party her and Pascal had thrown for your 20th birthday. It was a phenomenal sight, the who's who of Saint Denis society mingling in the back courtyard adorned with massive floral arrangements, glowing candles, tiers of sweets, bottles of champagne, and a 12 piece orchestra inspiring guests to dance.

“Oui,” you nodded and smiled widely, not wanting to let on that this evening didn’t have as much excitement as you would have liked. But following last night’s encounter in the alley, you suspected it would be awhile before you found anything as exhilarating. Your wandering mind was soon interrupted by your uncle’s boisterous laughter floating through the open French doors.

“Y/N, more friends have arrived,” you turned around at your uncle’s comment to see Mayor Lemieux, Angleo Bronte, and a handful of other men following Pascal to the columns you stood beneath.

“Mademoiselle,” the mayor removed his hat and held it over his heart in greeting.

“Henri,” you smiled warmly and exchanged fond kisses on cheeks. When he stepped to the side, Angelo moved forward, eager to greet you in kind. You never had a good feeling when the Italian was around. He seemed…shifty. But he was a fixture in Saint Denis’s wealthy class and attended every party held at one of the extravagant houses in the city.

“Happy birthday, bella,” Angelo’s greeting mimicked Henri’s but his lips lingered a little too long for your comfort.

“These are my associates,” Angelo gestured behind him, hand beckoning them forward.

“Well it is a pleasure to meet the most beautiful woman in Lemoyne,” the dark haired man removed his hat and bowed deeply.

“Name’s Dutch,” he said in a heavy southern accent once he returned upright, “this is Hosea,” the older man stepped forward and lightly kissed the top of your hand, tipping his hat in a sign of reverence.

“And this is Arthur,” when your eyes finally landed on the third man, your heart jumped into your throat.

The man you robbed, the one who had you pinned in a damp and dark alleyway not 24 hours before, was standing on your back porch as a guest of your birthday party.

“Miss,” he removed his hat—a different one than last night—and nodded politely. You hoped no one else noticed the way you blushed at his gesture, and he hoped no one noticed the way his eyes twinkled amusedly at meeting the female pickpocketer that nearly took all his money.

“May I?”

A low voice came from behind your dancing partner, drawing your eyes over Jean-Claude’s shoulder to find Arthur standing with a stupid smirk on his lips. When the younger man opened his mouth to protest, you patted his shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright, Jean-Claude,” you murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek. He frowned but lowered his head and relinquished your hand to Arthur before seeking out another dance partner. You rolled your lips together in a vain attempt to suppress the grin threatening to emerge. Dancing with this man generated a rush of happiness, and you did not want to let him know that even now, in your own backyard, he made your heart race.

It’s just infatuation, you reminded yourself, you don’t even know him.

After a few strides, you finally granted yourself permission to look up and inspect this man a little closer than the dimly lit alley allowed. When your eyes lifted from an unidentified spot over Arthur’s shoulder, you found he was already staring at you.

“So you gon’ tell me your name?”

The rumble of his voice alone would have prompted you to giggle, but his question guaranteed your soft laughter filled his ears. The sound caused a warmth to bloom in his stomach and he could feel his cheeks redden at being the cause of your amusement.

“Y/N,” you drew your hand further up his thick shoulder so it rested at the curve of his neck, prompting Arthur to reflexively move his hand higher up your back to maintain propriety.

“Miss Y/N, there a reason yer swipin’ billfolds when you got all of Saint Denis at your fingertips?”

“To meet charming men such as yourself, Arthur,” you responded coolly, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips. His hand squeezed yours a little tighter as he grunted at your comment, the twinkle leaving his eyes, “could get real hurt doin’ that.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow in disagreement but not daring to say it out loud. It wasn’t proper to argue with a man, let alone an older one with seemingly high societal connections.

“No need to bite your tongue, girl,” his whisper against your ear caused a shiver to run down your spine and he grinned at your reaction. Still, you didn’t offer a response and instead chose to change the subject. What was he doing in Saint Denis? How did he know Angelo?

While you wished you could have spent the rest of the evening talking with Arthur and getting to know more about him—you didn’t have the chance to learn much more than he had just gotten to Lemoyne with his group of associates and they began working with Angelo upon their arrival. That in and of itself should have been a warning—you didn’t like nor trust Angelo or the men who kept his company—but there was something about Arthur you couldn’t keep yourself from trusting. If he was as rough as the men he surrounded himself with, you had no reason to lean into the feeling of comfort his presence provided. But at the end of the night, you couldn’t keep your gut from twisting into knots as you bid him—and the others—adieu.

The next night, under the glow of a full moon, you slipped out of the house to resume your evening escapades. The cool air was a welcome reprieve following a sweltering day spent outside and you inhaled deeply upon reaching the end of the Avenue, taking in the sweet scent of roses and lilacs and gardenias.

“Thought I scared you outta doin’ this,” a gruff voice caused you to jump and whirl around. Seeing your new companion made your heart race wildly, a response you expected every time you crossed paths with Arthur. He smiled devilishly and flicked his cigarette onto the sweating cobblestone. You bit back a sweet smile, “truthfully, Mr. Morgan, I don’t find you all that scary.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, “yer the first to ever say that Miss Y/L/N.”

If it was possible, Arthur was even more handsome in the moonlight. His features weren’t as harsh and he wasn’t as worn, instead looking like a mischievous boy who was meeting up with his forbidden lover after hours. You hoped that he saw you in the same way—someone he wanted to see so badly he would shirk all other duties for a few hours while the city slept.

“What adventure you goin’ on tonight?”

A week later, after several consecutive nights spent visiting the underbelly of Saint Denis, you decided to stay home, not wanting Arthur to find you too desperate to spend time with him. Truth be told, you were growing increasingly attracted to the gruff man who seemed to be annoyed with your consistent rebellion while finding it equally amusing.

You expected this evening to be quiet and that you would doze off after reading one of your books. And you likely would have continued into dreamland had it not been for glass shattering somewhere in the house.

At first you thought it was the cat slinking around the parlor and knocking a vase off the table, but then you heard voices. And then a scuffle. And then pleading. You held your breath and strained your ears in an attempt to figure out what exactly was happening, only for your concentration to be broken by your balcony doors swinging open. Your mouth flew open to scream, only for a familiar hand to rush to keep you quiet.

“Get dressed real quick.”

Upon realizing it was Arthur, you relaxed for a moment, all fearsome thoughts leaving your mind until it registered that he must be with whoever was making their way upstairs.

“It ain’t what you think,” he shook his head upon noticing the betrayed look in your eyes, “now git movin,” he pushed your head away from him and towards the wardrobe. A million questions flooded your mind as you fumbled with the clothes immediately within reach. While you dressed you kept your eyes on Arthur, who was standing guard at your door with a shiny pistol drawn and held upwards, ready to fire at the first sign of intrusion.

“Hurry up,” he hissed at you, glancing over to see the progress you’d made in getting dressed. The sound of hushed voices and footsteps on the stairs caused your heart to pound so loudly you were sure the incoming person, or persons, could hear it in the hallway.

“We gotta go,” Arthur stepped away from the door and grabbed your hand, pulling you from the safety of your bedroom into the dark night.

The following minutes were a blur, with Arthur throwing you onto his horse and galloping through the streets of Saint Denis, not slowing until reaching the sticky humidity of the Bluewater Marsh. Under any other circumstances, you would have found a midnight ride to be romantic and exhilarating. But tonight you were terrified and at the first chance you had, you wriggled out of Arthur’s grasp and successfully—but not gracefully—dismounted his Thoroughbred, landing on the dirt road with a soft oomph. Arthur looked down at you with an amused smile and let out a chuckle when you scowled in return. You pushed yourself to your feet and hoisted your skirts in an attempt to make a getaway.

“Hey now,” he called after you, smoothly getting off his horse and grabbing your arm after taking a few long strides to prevent you from escaping.

“Let me go,” you snapped, jerking against his grasp to free yourself. Surprisingly, Arthur did as you asked and allowed you to turn on your heel and continue stomping down the dark road returning to Saint Denis.

“Might wanna get back here,” you heard him grumble, prompting you to click your tongue and wave him off while blindly continuing forward.

“Y/N,” you kept walking despite Arthur repeatedly calling your name. He muttered something under his breath before you heard the rustling of heavy leather and the cocking of the gun.

“Y/N!”

His sharp tone finally made you whirl around only to find he had a rifle pointed directly at you.

“Wh-wha?” You stammered, unable to ask what Arthur was doing before a gunshot shattered the night air. You spun away from the noise, the movement allowing your eyes to catch a dark mass slithering back into the marsh. Your eyes widened in realization and you turned around once more to stare at Arthur, mouth agape in shock.

“Gon’ get back here?” He asked dryly, knowing this incident scared you enough to return to the nearest form of safety, which, for better or worse, was him. As badly as you wanted to put on a brave face and act as though you weren't phased in the slightest, you were far too shaken to pretend and unsteadily walked back to Arthur, limbs trembling with fear.

“Ya alright?”

A deep frown etched his face as he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, exuding annoyance and concern simultaneously. You knew your voice would betray you, so you merely hummed in confirmation before allowing Arthur to boost you into the saddle before hoisting himself up, one muscular arm wrapped around your slender frame to hold you tightly to his chest.

A few hours and a long ride later, Arthur pulled into the woods and slowly walked through the trees until reaching a small campsite—one tent and one firepit.

“Here we are,” he grunted, swinging his leg over Brutus to dismount. Before you could blink, his large hands were gripping your sides, just under your breasts, to help you down. Arthur lifted you effortlessly, making you feel like little more than one of the china dolls your aunt gifted you as a child. Your hands rested on the tops of his shoulders for balance, the motion naturally bringing your eyes to lock together. Even when your feet were firmly on the ground, neither of you let go of the other. The temptation to kiss him grew too powerful to resist, your hand quickly moving to the nape of his neck to bring your faces closer together. Initially Arthur tensed, his eyes darting across your face as if searching for permission you already gave.

He cleared his throat and stepped out of your embrace, allowing a rush of cool air to flood the front of your body.

“Gon camp here for the night. Get a few hours sleep. Keep movin’ north,” Arthur didn’t turn around to see the dejected look now worn on your features, but you swallowed your pride and followed him to the fire pit where he built a flame large enough to provide some warmth to your chilling body.

“Are my aunt and uncle alive?”

Arthur exhaled slowly but nodded, “uncle might be in rough shape, but I reckon he’s alive.”

He poked at the burning logs to stoke the fire, the movement allowing flames to ignite the remaining log.

You sat on the hard ground, knees pulled to your chest for comfort while you watched the wood burn right before your eyes. You’d never been in the wilderness like this, with the open air and clear sky. A gentle breeze toyed with your hair, taking a few strands by surprise and guiding them across your face. You brushed them aside absentmindedly, tucking the blonde locks behind your ear. The movement entranced Arthur, who had been subtly watching you from across the fire. The orange glow illuminated your features in a different way than the street lamps of Saint Denis. It didn’t make you look so…ethereal. Instead, you looked like a normal frontier woman. Your hair was a little haphazard from the night’s frantic activity, your normally lively eyes had circles enunciating your exhaustion, and little creases scattered your forehead as you contemplated recent events.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Morgan?”

Oh shit, he’d been caught staring. Arthur startled slightly, prompting a sly smile to appear on your plush pink lips when you realized he had indeed been studying you.

“Noth—“ his voice was raspy, mouth having gone dry while he admired you. He cleared his throat, “nothing, ma’am.”

You scoffed at his formality, blue eyes rolling at his persistence of calling you anything other than your preferred nicknames.

“If you had the gusto to kidnap me, you might as well call me Y/N/N.”

Arthur’s head snapped up to glare at you, his anger only enunciated by the raging fire.

“I didn’t kidnap you,” he snapped before he had the chance to adjust his tone. You recoiled, surprised by the forcefulness with which he spoke. An immediate sensation of guilt washed over Arthur like a bucket of cold water, “aw, I’m sorry Y/N—I mean Y/N/N.” He looked at you sheepishly, cheeks now also burning with embarrassment, “s’just more complicated than that.”

You pursed your lips together and twisted them to the side in thought. Internally you were debating whether or not you wanted to push for further details, but Arthur spoke again before you had the chance.

“Better get some shut eye, gon be morning before we know it,” he pushed himself up, fully extending his legs after crouching for god knows how long. While he was rough around the edges, he seemed to know enough about proper society that he took a few steps towards you, hand outstretched for you to grasp while rising off the ground. Again, the motion brought you nearly chest-to-chest and this time Arthur didn’t quickly pull away. Instead he looked down at you, his blue eyes locked with yours in a battle against temptation. You could feel your faces growing closer together, and your gaze only lowered when you wanted to focus on bringing his lips to yours. But once again Arthur cleared his throat and took a step back, this time eliciting a huff loud enough to make him hesitate before fully turning away.

“Ya can take the tent,” he cleared his throat again and stooped to pick up a bedroll that was tucked just inside the flap, “I’ll sleep out here.”

“Why?”

Your question made him hesitate once again. He sighed and ran his fingers through his sandy hair, “I—I don—“ he stuttered before taking a few seconds to compose himself, “yer a proper lady,” he refused to make eye contact with you, “and I reckon it wouldn’t be too proper for,” he gestured between the two of you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow and smirk. He didn’t finish the sentence, instead uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck and exhaling from his nose.

“I ain’t who you think I am,” he finally stammered. Your brow knit together in confusion and you stared at him open-mouthed for a second before saying the first thing that came to mind, “how do you know what I think?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to scowl and shake his head.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

Arthur woke you a few hours later, interrupting what was a short and uncomfortable sleep. You’d never slept in a tent before, never had only a bedroll between you and the cold ground, never woke with the sun. Your entire life had been spent in that Saint Denis mansion, with its plush and overfilled beds, soothing pillows, and timeless days. No one cared if you didn’t wake until late morning, the lack of interest proving invaluable for the nights you’d stay out so late the street lamps were extinguished before you returned to your room.

But you didn’t want Arthur to think any less of you and your capabilities, so you joined him in the saddle without complaint, despite your body aching from last night’s excursion.

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly, the question serving as your first words of the day. Arthur exhaled through his nose, something you noticed he did quite a bit around you, almost as though he needed to frequently slow a racing heart.

“Gotta get to Brandywine before nightfall,” he answered shortly. With a click of his tongue, the horse began moving forward. Brutus, you learned, was his name, given sarcastically due to the stallion’s relatively docile temperament. You’d never admit it to Arthur but you had only ever ridden side-saddle, and even then, you were born and raised in a city where riding wasn’t a necessity.

As Brutus carried you north, you watched your surroundings with wide eyes. You’d never traveled this far from Saint Denis. It was wild, undeveloped, untamed. The trees were lush and rustled with the wind. The air was crisp and stung your lungs when you sharply inhaled. And you encountered maybe two other people on the trail, all of whom looked at you curiously, but tipped their hats nonetheless. You hadn’t considered the sight of two people–one in slightly nicer clothing–riding on a horse would be an odd sensation. But apparently, it was. And someone knew it would draw enough attention that the day’s journey diverted into the woods just outside of Annesburg.

“Charles,” Arthur called out when he approached a campsite very similar to the one you just left outside of Van Horn. The tent flaps rustled to reveal a strapping, dark skinned man with long black hair.

“Arthur,” the stranger raised his hand in greeting, striding over to welcome you with a smile, “safe travel, my friend?” Charles asked as Arthur dismounted. Arthur grunted and lowered his head, but you caught the edge of a smile when he handed Charles the reins so he could help you down.

“This here’s Y/N,” Arthur gestured towards you roughly, his demeanor suddenly becoming gruff in the presence of another man.

“Pleasure, ma’am,” Charles kissed the top of your hand as Hosea had done many nights before. You smiled tersely, guard heightened in the presence of an unfamiliar individual. Arthur must have sensed your hesitancy, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, motioning towards the tent, “need you to change.”

You frowned up at him, fully confused as to why redressing was necessary. But when he raised his eyebrows and motioned towards the tent again, you relented and stepped behind the canvas. Once in private, you realized you were more scared than you had been willing to admit last night. Being swept out of your room by a man you’d become infatuated with was arguably romantic, as was going for a late night ride and spending time around a fire. But now, in the light of day, terror gripped your insides, crushing your chest and making every breath a struggle. You tried to calm, but remembering you didn’t actually know Arthur, let alone Charles, only made your heart race faster. When the clinking of stirrups and the sound of thundering hooves broke through your clouded mind, you dashed for the tent opening, throwing back the flaps in an absolute panic, thinking Arthur abandoned you.

But he hadn’t.

He was sitting on a stump, journal in his lap, pencil in hand, and clearly writing or drawing before you interrupted. Upon seeing your wild eyes and hearing your rapid breathing, he tossed his utensils aside and quickly closed the distance between your location and his.

“S’wrong?” His large, rough hands landed on your shoulders without a second thought, brow furrowed in concentration as he watched your body heave frantically. You gulped air as quickly as possible, gripping onto Arthur’s forearm as tightly as you could to keep yourself balanced. If it hurt, he didn’t flinch, and guided you to the ground without detaching your hold.

“Y/N/N,” he soothed with a never-before-seen kindness, swiping his thumbs over your cheekbones to wipe away your tears. The kind gesture did nothing but make the tears fall faster, finally prompting you to lurch forward, burying your face into the crook of his neck, where a soft blue cotton shirt caught every drop falling from your eyes. Arthur tensed at the sudden closeness of your bodies but knew better than to pull away. Instead his hands brushed up and down your back comfortingly while he repeatedly reassured you that everything was okay. When your breathing finally slowed, you pulled back and pawed away the tears still staining your flushed face.

“I want to go home,” you whispered shakily, looking up at him with watery blue eyes. Arthur sighed and raised a hand to tuck a few blonde locks behind your ear–a gesture that didn’t feel as abnormal as it should have.

“I know ya do, but,” he sighed heavily, “not yet.”

“Why not?” You demanded, voice raising when the pace of your breathing quickened again, “why can’t I—” your question was cut off by Arthur’s lips crashing onto yours, something you desperately wanted 24 hours ago, but wasn’t on your mind at the moment. It did help stop your racing thoughts, though, and when his hands cupped your face to bring you closer, you could think of nothing but him. Your slender hands snuck around to the back of Arthur’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly grazed until Arthur’s hands moved to tangle in your long blonde hair, gently detaching his lips so he could press his forehead against yours.

“I know yer scared, but I need ya to trust me,” the vibrations of his voice sending a tingle down your spine. You swallowed thickly but nodded and whispered a confirmation.

“I promise I’ll tell ya everything when we get to Brandywine tonight.”

The wagon Charles left at the campsite in exchange for Brutus became your new mode of transportation. It was done, you realized, to blend into the surrounding area a bit more than your previous travel arrangements. You were even able to doze a bit, head lolling to the side and finding support on Arthur’s shoulder. But you were wide awake when the wagon slowed alongside a pond, shimmering in the pastels of a wilderness sunset. The water looked so inviting, its waves barely kissing the shore in a sweet gesture of welcome.

“Is there…” you hesitated, knowing how ridiculous of a question you were able to ask, “can I go swimming? In there?”

You motioned to the pond, as if there were any other place in the area where you could swim. Arthur’s eyes darted towards the water for a split second before he nodded and hummed, “gonna be cold.”

With a small twitch of your lips, you took Arthur’s outstretched hand to assist you down. Despite his cautioning, your feet carried you towards the rocky shoreline where you promptly began to undress. The kiss you’d shared earlier that day provided a whole other level of unabashedness, a dangerous thing considering you already quite bold. Arthur continued working by the wagon, starting a fire and setting up the tent while you held your breath and plunged beneath the water’s surface, fully immersing yourself in a peace you desperately needed. When you popped back up, blonde hair now slicked back with the cool water, you noticed Arthur jerk his head down to avert his eyes. It made a little smile play on your face, knowing he had been watching for at least a few seconds. You continued bobbing in the pond, the chill settling into your skin going unnoticed as you enjoyed the calming sensation of weightlessness. It was a welcome distraction from the turmoil that had been clouding your mind for the past 24 hours.

“You gon’ sleep in there?”

Arthur’s baritone voice broke through your daydream to bring you back to the present. Night had started falling, blanketing the peaceful area with a dimness that somehow didn’t lessen its beauty.

“What if I am?”

You retorted, lowering yourself so only your eyes were visible. Arthur smirked, amused by your youthful antics.

“C’mon girl,” he waved you towards the shore, “need to eat somethin’.”

With a grunt, you obliged and started creeping closer to the rocks on which Arthur stood. Before you could ask if he was going to turn away so you could leave the water and dress, he held up a blanket as a privacy screen. While you wanted nothing more than for Arthur to have his way with you, for his lips to press against every inch of your smooth skin, you were grateful for his never ending respect and propriety. This was pushing it, he knew, standing behind a quilt while you exited the water, a splashing sound confirming you’d made it to shore and were now fully unclothed on the other side of the fabric clutched in his hands. He could not help but imagine what you looked like right now. How your wet skin must be shimmering in the growing moonlight. How your hair must be returning to its natural wave now that it was no longer weighed down by water. How the damp spots on your body must make some of your undergarments cling to your curves.

“I’m decent,” you whispered, putting a gentle hand on top of Arthur’s to encourage him to lower the barrier. He did as you asked, and when he finally caught sight of your post-swim appearance, all of his previous thoughts were proven correct, save for what your chemise looked like under your calico dress. Arthur draped the quilt around your shoulders, knowing you were going to get more of a chill than you expected and lead you to the campsite where he had a fire burning.

The two of you ate quietly, with you having your first ever dinner outside, around a fire, with nothing to drink other than water. Arthur told you the events leading up to the night he stole you from home. How your uncle had been the middleman between Angelo Brontë and a wealthy family from Rhodes. How the Braithwaites felt that they’d been shortchanged and how they plotted to kidnap you for ransom. How Dutch figured it out and how he made a deal with your uncle to kidnap you first and take you into New Hanover before crossing into Ambarino to hide out until things were smoothed over. How when Arthur heard about the plan, he readily volunteered to be the one to take you away and keep you safe. After eating the plainest meal of your life, you started to shiver, your hair still reflecting light with a dangerous dampness. It didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur, who passed you a well-worn flask, “drink this. It’ll help.”

You tentatively took it from him, chilly fingers desperately uncorking the container that might be your savior. It hadn’t crossed your mind that the flask likely contained alcohol–and strong alcohol at that–so when you took a big gulp, you didn’t expect your throat to feel like it was on fire. Much to Arthur’s amusement you coughed and sputtered, not used to the sensation provided by rye whiskey. When you finally regained your composure after a few deep breaths, you let out a giggle, “that is vile,” the flask returned to Arthur, who took a swig without so much as a wince.

“An acquired taste,” he winked at you and tucked it back into his jacket pocket before rising, the movement announcing the end of the evening.

“Tent’s yers,” he drawled and motioned to the open flaps where the bedroll from last night awaited your visit. It was closer to the fire than previously, you noted, surely done in an attempt to make your slumber as comfortable as possible following a questionable decision to swim in a northern pond while the sun set. You hummed and reluctantly took Arthur’s outstretched hand to assist you off the blanket on which you sat. On instinct, you stepped forward so your bodies nearly pressed together and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. His lips twitched ever so slightly at the corners, signaling he was fighting back a smile and his blue eyes shone with debate. It would be the perfect opportunity to kiss you again. To press his lips against yours, more tenderly this time since he wasn’t in a rush to calm you down and get you to shut up. You could feel his muscles tense under the light hold you had on his arms and you knew there was no way he was going to kiss you again today. He was far too reserved to make such a bold move in a calm environment.

“Good night, Arthur,” you pecked his cheek and retreated to the tent, stomach churning with anxiety and uncertainty brought on by the perceived lack of interest.

The next morning you awoke to men talking outside your tent. It sounded like two, maybe three, individuals having a somewhat tense discussion. One was Arthur, the second perhaps Dutch. The remaining man you couldn’t identify. While you debated on whether or not you should show yourself, you slowly stretched to feel the satisfying tug in your legs and arms. Yesterday’s journey hadn’t been as arduous since the majority of time was spent in a wagon instead of on horseback, but your muscles still ached, their condition certainly not helped by another night spent sleeping on the ground. You knew they were likely conversing about you and the precarious situation you were apparently in, probably giving updates so Arthur knew whether or not your journey could continue as planned.

As soon as you made an appearance, you regretted not remaining hidden until the visitors left. Though you might have been desperate to see Arthur, and feel the sun on your skin, and enjoy some of the preserves you’d been given by Charles, you didn’t want those things if you would be subjected to the presence of a man incapable of respecting a lady.

“Woo-eee, I can see why you wanted this mission so badly, cowpoke!” One of the men whooped, slapping his knee in amusement before striding over to you. He circled around you like a lion surveying its prey, licking his lips in a way that was nothing but predatory. Your jaw clenched and heart raced, all too familiar with the growing level of unease caused by a man looking you up and down as though you were a prized calf. Arthur’s movement went unnoticed, as did Dutch’s low voice reminding everyone present to behave. But the heavily mustached man turned towards Arthur with a wicked grin, his beady eyes betraying the vulgarity of the comment he was about to make.

“You get a piece yet?”

You gasped, face flushing with anger, “connard!” But before you had the chance to slap him as intended, he grabbed your wrist, “oh I don’t think so,” and jerked you forward, bringing you so close his whiskey-tinged breath skimmed over your face. Thankfully, Arthur had his hands on the man within seconds, pushing his way between you and the stranger.

“Back off, Micah,” he shoved the man square in the chest while you yanked your arm out of his grasp, shrieking for him to let go of you. Even though his hand was around your slender wrist for only a few moments, it was angry and red and almost certain to bruise later. He laughed at Arthur’s response, “protective of your little frog?”

Again, your cheeks reddened, “va te faire foutre,” you spat, trying to push past Arthur in another effort to slap the offending man. Micah only laughed, but stepped away when Dutch finally barked at both men to behave. Arthur remained in his position shielding you from Micah, much to the man’s amusement.

Dutch and Micah brought two things: news and supplies. Things with the Braithwaites weren’t quieting down as expected, with some members of the family rumored to be looking for you. You didn’t ask why, if your would-be captors continued to pursue you, these two men thought it was a good idea to meet at the campsite. But you remained quiet, standing behind Arthur to feel some form of safety with Micah present. The vulgar man left shortly thereafter, announcing he was on his way to Strawberry, another little town you’d only heard about in passing. Arthur didn’t take his eyes off of Micah as he trotted off on his raven black horse, followed in short order by Dutch, who wished you safe travels. Once the duo were out of sight, Arthur slightly turned towards you, again awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry ‘bout Micah,” he sighed, shaking his head, “he…well…he’s…” Arthur stuttered before giving up on the sentence and waving his hand dismissively, “we’d better get goin’. Should make it to Moonstone before dark.”

You looked at Arthur curiously, head tilted to the side in thought, a sight he found so endearing. For all your intelligence and knowledge there was so much you had yet to learn and experience, and you were eager to do those things with him. And if he was being honest, Arthur was becoming more and more infatuated with the idea, too.

There had been no mention of the kiss you shared the previous morning. Really, no discussion at all during the wagon ride west, but you had so many questions for Arthur. He had alluded to being part of a gang when you’d been around the fire last night, talking about the events leading up to your journey to Brandywine, but he hadn’t come outright and said it. The visit from Dutch and Micah had you fairly well convinced that whatever group he was part of was likely closer to an outlaw gang than a family gang, like Angelo Bronte.

“I can hear those wheels turnin,” the silence was broken by Arthur teasing you lightheartedly, the smallest smile causing his eyes to twinkle. You hummed but giggled, blushing from the embarrassment of being caught so deep in thought about your travel companion.

“Just dreaming about what kind of town Moonstone must be,” you lied, dimples betraying the half-truth you spoke.

Arthur grunted, “ain’t a town,” his eyes darted to his right to catch your reaction. Your brow furrowed and lips turned downward, “then what is it?”

He sighed, letting his eyes linger for a few extra seconds before redirecting his attention to the horse dutifully pulling the wagon.

“Itsa little cabin,” his broad shoulders heaved upwards, “nice’n tucked away.”

Moonstone was more beautiful than you expected. It was a small plot of land with a large pond that reflected the surrounding sloping mountains. You hadn’t been expecting the cabin to be furnished, let alone with the finery close to what you’d left in Saint Denis.

“Pascal don’t know where ya are but he wanted ya to be comfortable,” Arthur remarked at seeing your pleasantly surprised face, “Charles was here a few days ‘fore we met up with him.”

You hummed and nodded, taking a step further into the cabin, the faint smile falling from your face when you realized the amount of stuff your uncle sent with Charles meant he thought you’d be away from home for longer than you anticipated.

“Y’okay?” Arthur slid up next to you and gently nudged your arm when he noticed your suddenly crestfallen face. You nodded and sucked on your lower lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, the gravity of your situation once again rushing over you like the waterfall at Brandywine. He sighed heavily and lifted a hand, almost as though he wanted to pat your shoulder, instead opting to remove his hat and set it on the nearby table before moving to the fireplace, moving several logs to the grate so he could start a fire.

“I’ll get this goin’,” he grunted and squatted, ripping matches along the surrounding stones. You sniffled, half upset he didn’t make an effort to calm you as he had done the previous morning. If he could tell you were disappointed, he didn’t let on, and instead kept his focus entirely on stoking the growing embers in front of him. As you had last night, you had the insatiable urge to swim in the crystal clear waters of the nearby pond. And without saying a word, or asking Arthur, you turned and left the cabin, skirt rustling as you stepped off the tiny porch and onto the dirt path leading down to the calm water.

Arthur watched your petite frame get smaller as you approached the shore. He knew he should have looked away when you began to undress, but he couldn’t help himself. Last night it would have been obvious if he watched you, but now you wouldn’t notice him glancing out the window. So Arthur quietly and stealthily watched as you unlaced and slipped off your boots before unbuttoning and shedding your blouse, and letting your skirt and bloomers slide into a crumpled pile of fabric at your feet. And once you lifted your chemise over your head, you were left completely nude. Arthur swallowed thickly, his eyes quickly roaming your body to soak in the sight of your bare skin. He wouldn’t let himself look for long, though. While he wanted to sit and unabashedly stare at you, to enjoy watching you float around the pond as you tried to forget your troubles, he knew he had to get at least a few things done in the cabin so it didn’t seem like he’d been looking at you the entire time.

Arthur didn’t speak when you returned to the cabin on account of being afraid his voice would betray the amount of time he spent watching you in the moonlit pond. He could not stop thinking about how the light reflected off of your damp skin as you floated on your back, eyes fixed on the starry sky.

And a few hours later, his mind was still racing with thoughts that made his cheeks red when you woke from a fitful slumber. Despite sleeping on a feather-filled mattress, covered with down-filled and cashmere blankets, an unshakable chill had settled into your bones. The glow coming from the main room of the cabin, called you to join Arthur by the fire.

“Arthur?” You whispered, taking a cautious step forward. He startled, sitting upright, eyes tearing away from the flame to land on your figure standing only feet away. He swallowed thickly, mouth going dry when he saw you, looking even more otherworldly in the dim light with your long blonde hair falling in waves, body covered only by a sheer chemise. You couldn’t help but smile at his pink cheeks and how he tried to ease his own awkward tension by running his hand through his shaggy blonde hair.

“S’wrong?”

He glanced up at you from his makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, trying to keep his eyes off of your barely covered body.

“I’m cold,” you smiled bashfully at telling the half-truth. The moment you’d shared the previous afternoon, coupled with the fact you’d given him plenty of opportunity to see you skinny dipping, provided enough courage for the first of many attempts you were prepared to make in order to seduce Arthur Morgan.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face, showing he knew exactly what you were getting at. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take you–he very much wanted to see your eyes half-lidded in pleasure because of him–it was that you would never fit into each other’s world. Mary had tried to get him to leave the cowboy life behind, tried to get him to walk the straight and narrow in proper society, but he couldn’t leave his gang. And if he couldn’t see himself in Mary’s well-to-do life, he definitely couldn’t see himself joining the Saint Denis elite. You, coming from a family of influential and wealthy aristocrats, would almost certainly struggle with a nomadic and criminal lifestyle. While you enjoyed your little expeditions in the city, it was nothing compared to the actively dangerous life Arthur led.

But thoughts of how the future would only be full of emotional agony for everyone involved rushed out of his mind when you continued approaching, bare feet not making a sound on the hardwood floor. Now he could clearly see the outline of your nipples, pointy from either the chill or arousal, he wasn’t sure. You smiled shyly, knowing a million thoughts were racing through Arthur’s head at the moment, the turmoil of his mind being given away by his slightly creased brow and frantically darting eyes. He exhaled slowly, eventually resigning to his perceived fate and held out his hand for you to take as you lowered yourself onto the bison fur topping the bedroll Arthur lay on. He avoided your gaze as you slid under the heavy wool blanket, but when you settled close, your arms curled between gently rising chests, he could only look at those big, innocent eyes.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, wriggling a little closer to absorb even more of the heat radiating off Arthur’s thick body. He tensed at the movement, his discomfort now undeniable; it was as though you were pressed against a tree stump.

You inhaled, ready to ask why he was like…this. Why, but more importantly, how, was he so uninterested in a sought-after beauty like yourself? But before you could get the words out, he cut you off, his gruff voice causing a rumble in his chest that sent shivers down your spine, “go to sleep, girl.”

The days passed slowly, but eventually you’d been at Moonstone for nearly a month. During that time, you tried to learn more about Arthur. Tried to get him to let you in even just a little. But none of your sweet words or soft touches loosened him up. He was an impenetrable force, a mystery you were desperate to solve before you had to return to the crowded streets of Saint Denis. And while you couldn’t get Arthur to show you as much as a crack in his stony exterior, he didn’t shy away from spending time with you. As he taught you the basics of how to cope with being so far from society, you found the time in the wilderness proved to be much more enjoyable than you originally expected. The air wasn’t thick with smoke or tinted with smells of the city. When the wind blew, it was sweet and invigorating, toying with the blonde curls that always fell out of your braid. The sight of you by the pond, writing or drawing or reading, always made Arthur’s stomach twist. It was so difficult to look at you, so perfect and pristine, and not think about being more than just your guardian. You thought about it too. You imagined being the subject of the scribbles he made in that worn leather journal he always carried. And you imagined those rough hands wandering your unmarked body. But soon your imagination was not enough. Thinking about being Arthur was not enough. The occasional brushes against arms were not enough. So one night you emerged from the bedroom, clad in only a chemise like the first night you spent in the cabin.

“Why won’t you?”

You demanded, arms crossed over your chest as you hovered in the doorway. Arthur startled at the sudden intrusion, snapping his journal closed and getting to his feet.

“Why won’t I what?” His voice had an unusually sharp tone to it, perhaps in a last ditch effort to scare you away. You raised an eyebrow, knowing Arthur knew exactly what you were asking. At the sight of your pleading stare, begging for an explanation as to why he wouldn’t have you, he resigned.

“Y/N/N,” he sighed and shook his head, “I can’t. We can’t,” he gestured between the two of you. You didn’t let his denial interrupt your pursuit of finally having him.

“Am I not attractive?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you know that ain’t the case. I–”

“Do you have someone?”

“No, I–”

“So what is the problem?”

In what could only be called lust-clouded judgment, Arthur took a big step forward and cupped his hands around your face to pull you in for a kiss to cut the conversation short, handling you a bit rougher than before. He had you backed up against the wall in no time, much like the night you first met, only now your lips were intensely connected, moving against each other in utter desperation. When he pulled back, hands still caressing your delicate jawline, his nose barely brushed against yours.

“You ever even been with anyone, girl?”

The question you dreaded most finally made its appearance and you did not want to tell the truth. Being a spoiled socialite in Saint Denis had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks. Alone time with your courtiers was few and far between, given how religious your aunt and uncle were. The most you’d been able to experience was a clumsy fingering in the study during a holiday party. Maybe if you’d been courted by more rebellious gentlemen, you would have had the opportunity to do more, to sneak out at night and meet a lover. But that never happened, and now you were pinned against a wall by a man twice your size and nearly twice your age, who could have had dozens of women as lovers and the bodily knowledge to match. You looked up at him and exhaled softly, eventually shaking your head, “no.”

Arthur sighed, his mouth twitching—in either irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell–but continued brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones. You could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. And you knew he wasn’t a proper gentleman with manners like the others; he could easily have his way with you, permission or not.

“Y’sure you wanna do this?”

Your pulse racing beneath his palm made him fairly sure of the answer before he asked the question. Though he wasn’t a society gentleman, he had a certain level of respect for you, and knew certain choices were yours to make. Your stomach twisted with anxiety and anticipation, but you refused to let the uncertain override such unabashed desire. So you nodded, slender hands moving to the nape of his neck, causing his breathing to quicken with temptation.

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding frantically as the heat between your legs grew. Arthur exhaled, a deep rumble emanating from his chest while he lifted you, encouraging your legs to wrap around his solid waist. With shaking fingers, you began working at the buttons on his shirt, only achieving success with two before he gently laid you onto the overly plush bed, feather blankets sighing around you. You swallowed thickly and looked up at him, his normally bright blue eyes now dark with lust.

“We’re gon’ go slow,” he drawled, pulling back to grasp the hem of your chemise and tugging it upwards so you knew to remove the last thing protecting your modesty. Before you had the white garment tossed on the floor, Arthur was kneeling at the edge of the bed, his battle-worn hands brushing up and down your calves.

“Open up, girl,” he whispered when he noticed the confused look on your face, “jus’ trust me.”

A nervous whine caught in your throat but you did as he asked and loosened your muscles so he could spread your legs wide, tugging you a little closer to the edge of the bed in the process. His lips pressed against your porcelain skin, eliciting a shiver each time his scruff brushed against areas no one else had seen before.

“Oh,” you gasped sharply when his mouth eventually reached your center, surprised by the sensation it caused.

“Relax,” his command was muffled by your thighs, “jus’ enjoy.”

You didn’t have time to ask what it was you were supposed to be enjoying. Arthur’s tongue started working your folds, his mouth generating pleasure from things you didn’t know could be pleasurable. The more he sucked on that sensitive little nub, the more desire burned through your body, fireworks igniting in your head when he slid in a finger. When he curled inside of you, he hit a spot you didn’t know was there. It sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and elicited a high-pitched whine, proving to be all the encouragement Arthur needed to keep going. He wasn’t afraid to use every skill he’d gained over the years–not that he had an entire arsenal–but he wanted your first time to be as pleasurable as possible, perhaps for your satisfaction as much as his. Arthur knew that, as the man who deflowered you, he would set the standard for your future partners. Everyone that ended up between your thighs would be compared to him, and he wanted to be sure no one else would come close. And given your early reactions to how he touched you, he was confident his mission would be accomplished. While he tasted you–drank you, almost–your fingers buried themselves in his thick hair, tugging every time he hit that interior sweet spot. Then a second finger slid in, the simple ingredient being the thing that finally sent you over the edge. Your back arched, head pushing into the fluffy blankets while you tried to ride the foreign, but pleasurable, feeling now coursing through your veins.

“Arthur,” the breathiness of your moans made Arthur smile against your center where you were beginning to spasm around his fingers. He kept working, lips and fingers moving in tandem to finally cause your body to seize, your walls quickly clenching, calf muscles tensing, thighs trembling, and hands grabbing at whatever was within reach.

“Dieu,” you moaned quietly while the euphoria ebbed, rendering your body nearly useless from being drunk on pleasure.

Drunk on him.

You sighed and closed your eyes, letting Arthur maintain control over your lower extremities. He gently removed himself from your center and withdrew from between your legs, rising to his full height and stepping out of his jeans to join you in total nudity. Arthur handled you carefully, almost like he expected you to unravel at any given moment, as he readjusted your position on the bed. He made sure, though, that he could see the look on your face when you were taken for the first time. This was as much of a memorable experience for him as it was for you. He captured you underneath his body, one arm propping himself up while the other disappeared between your bodies, hand stroking his already hard member.

“Ready?” Arthur’s lust-laden eyes locked on yours, his rough hand moving to gently spread your thigh to allow entrance. You looked at him wide-eyed but eager, heart racing wildly, breath catching in your throat, you could only nod.

“‘Ts gonna be tight,” he murmured, serving as a warning for you but a reminder for him. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise at how snug the interaction would be–he would not be the first to come. For all the warm-up and preparation, there was nothing he could do to ease the amount of tension you’d both feel when he finally entered.

Your half-lidded eyes looked at him innocently, again nodding in acknowledgment. His burly hand found its place on the curve of your hips and your hands met his forearm to keep yourself grounded. Arthur slowly pushed forward, using every ounce of self control he had to keep from unrelentingly plowing into you. Despite the tenderness of his actions, you felt like you were being split in two while he continued his entrance, fingernails digging into his muscles as a reaction. But the pain spreading across your pelvis wasn’t identifiable as unpleasant. It felt almost...good. The burning desire that had been tearing through your body while he was between your legs was nothing compared to this. Arthur couldn’t help but smirk at how your eyes widened with the growing friction, or how quiet whimpers escaped your agape mouth once he completely filled you. He paused then, watching as you tried to relax, body tense from being so wholly penetrated for the first time.

“Y’okay?”

His question was accompanied by calloused fingers brushing over your cheekbones, eventually tangling in your hair to guide your face closer to his. He kissed you softly, intimately, showing a delicateness you wouldn’t think he was capable of. When Arthur pulled back, his eyes studied your face, trying to memorize every micro expression that flew across those porcelain features.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, nodding while your cheeks flushed bright pink. You hadn’t expected to feel so full, to be rendered virtually immovable because your core was no longer empty.

“Jus’ nice and slow,” he partially withdrew before pushing in again, his gaze still fixed on you so he saw every reaction. You’d never known satisfaction like this, and that was reflected in the way you looked at him. The way your eyes shone like the stars outside, the way your soft lips parted to whimper in acknowledgement of the foreign sensation taking over your body, the way you responded to a single touch, each one causing your breath to hitch.

“Mon dieu,” you moaned, fingers digging into his arms while your back again arched in pleasure, “Arthur.” His stomach knotted when you repeated his name, your French accent making it sound more delicious than it actually was. A few slow pumps caused your slick to loosen more than his fingers allowed while still providing the tension that fueled the desire still flooding your veins. It was a drug you could not get enough of.

Your hands moved to the nape of his neck, drawing Arthur in for another kiss, your lips locking tenderly as he continued his gentle thrusts. When he pushed in a little harsher than before, you moaned again and wrapped your legs around his waist, a motion that just felt right, like it could get you even closer together.

The adjustment caused Arthur to lose some self control. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, attempting to disguise his moan as a kiss to your collarbone.

“Arthur,” you whined, nails raking down his back in impatience grown from the desperate need generated by your sudden addiction. The coil in your belly was tightening, and you wanted it to unravel as soon as it could so that rush of pleasure, that undeniable euphoria, could be experienced again. After another moan and several kisses up your neck, Arthur reached up to grip the headboard, pressure building in your core as the intensity and frequency of Arthur’s thrusts increased.

“Oui,” you moaned breathily, pushing your head back into the pillow while your back arched, bringing your bodies even closer together. When Arthur’s hand slid from your hair to where your centers met and began massaging that swollen nub, you lost any resolve maintaining your composure.

“Merde,” the curse was almost whispered to yourself. But Arthur wanted to hear your pleasure fill his ears and his thrusts once again increased in power, your body willingly accepting the additional force.

“Arthur,” your eyes clenched shut, brow furrowed, fingers digging into Arthur’s broad back while you bit down on your lower lip.

“No need to bite your tongue girl,” his whispered comment taking you back to the night you learned his name. With permission to be loud, you stopped silencing your vocals and with a guttural moan you let out a string of curses that would make even Arthur blush if he knew what you were saying. It felt like a bolt of lightning struck your body, its spark radiating from the spot where you and Arthur met in the most intimate way.

Arthur came just after you, his spend painting your walls white. He knew he shouldn’t have done it but he was just possessive enough that he couldn’t resist the urge to leave his mark, no matter how temporary it might be. Your chest heaved as you tried to gather the shattered pieces of your mind back together, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment to provide some reprieve.

“You alright?”

Arthur’s gravelly voice broke through the blissful fog still hanging over your thoughts. You exhaled slowly but nodded, still unable to find your voice. Blankets being pulled over your exposed body finally made your eyes open. Arthur was still next to you, still unclothed, cheeks still pink with arousal.

“Can…” he cleared his throat, “can I touch ya?”You cocked your head to the side, a little smile making Arthur blush with embarrassment.

“You don’t need to ask for permission,” your hand rose from the plush of the mattress to take Arthur’s wrist and guide it to the curve of your waist, where his hand trembled with hesitancy before finally sliding lower to the spot where dimples decorated the bottom of your spine. A sweet silence fell over the room while your hands gently roamed each other’s body. His calloused hands could not get enough of your soft skin. Your small hands could not trace enough of the scars littering his chest and arms.

“Whadda looking at those for?” The rumble in his chest prompted you to glance up at him through thick eyelashes. You shrugged, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “just wondering their stories.”

Arthur’s exhaled breath skimmed over the top of your head, “none you’d be happy to hear, darlin.”

[throwawaywriting]

Sorry to my followers that I abandoned, only to return with a 10k story about Red Dead Redemption 2 lol

[throwawaywriting]

spotify wrapped is HERE! send me a number 1-100 and I’ll tell you the song it corresponds with on my top 100 playlist

[throwawaywriting]

This the stuff right here babey.

Pining Desire [Gibbs One-Shot]

THIS WORK IS NSFW! 18+ MINORS DNI

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Female Reader

Prompt: Smut #8. "Don't forget who you belong to."

Tags/Warnings: Smut(Unprotected Sex) - Possessive Gibbs <3

Summary: When an FBI agent asks you out during a joint investigation, Gibbs can't hide the jealousy boiling inside of him.

Word Count: 2,285

Author's Note: Yet another request! This one was made by @navalcriminalimagines! I hope I wrote it how you pictured it!

Leroy Jethro Gibbs Tag List: @navalcriminalimagines @simpforcrimeshows @specialagentastra @alesaab

Forever Tag List: @alexxavicry

One-Shot Masterlist

My Prompt List

Each of you let out a collective sigh of relief as you stepped out of the elevator.

It’d been a long day at work. During yet another murder investigation, the FBI had to come in. Our main suspect was an informant working with the FBI. After some collaboration, we caught all of the suspects and brought them into custody.

“Remind me never to wear heels on undercover ops again…” You let out an exaggerated huff as you plopped down in your desk chair.

“Told ya that this morning.”

You scoffed as Gibbs sat in his chair, dawning his glasses as he started to look at files. He had that smart-assed smirk on his face as he let out a faint chuckle as he taunted you.

Tony had already gone home by now, but you needed to grab a few things from your desk and finish filing your report. Although, your work was halted as you saw an unexpected shadow looming over your desk. You lifted your head, seeing one of the agents you’d met on the case. Agent Flores.

“Agent Y/L/N—” He smiled at you, “–You’re still here?”

“You’re still here, too.” You shrugged, giving a slight smile. He was cute, a little funny.

“Well, I, Uh…” He mustered up his best, dashing smile. Flores was clearly trying to charm you. “I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner tonight? I know it’s been a long day, but seeing you work the field like that? You looked like a pro.”

You couldn’t help but get a bit of a chuckle. You never really got compliments since you were always with either Tony, Gibbs, or McGee, so no one came close to trying to ask you out. It was certainly a rare occasion. When you did manage to get a date, it was usually ruined by Gibbs calling you into work, or Tony prying too much. Just as your lips parted to answer Flores, you heard another voice answer for you.

“She’s helping me with some paperwork, Flores.”

Your head whipped to the side, seeing how Gibbs answered for you. The curious questions swirled around in your head for a moment, but you didn’t want to go against Gibbs. You looked up at Flores, giving a bashful shrug as you lost your smile.

“Well, I… Sorry, Flores. Gotta work.” You glanced at Gibbs, “Maybe, uh… Maybe next time.”

Flores lost a bit of a smile, but he kept his chin up.

“Next time for sure.” He nodded to you as he left, not seeming too bothered by it. He gave a slight wave, giving a short goodbye to both of us as he headed towards the elevator. You glanced at Gibbs, waiting for him to say something— but he didn’t. You spent the rest of your night wondering why he did that, struggling to focus on your report.

- - - - -

By the end of the night, you finally got done with that report. Since you didn’t have a car, you had to— very reluctantly —ask Gibbs to give you a ride home. Even Tony was afraid to ask Gibbs for a ride.

As you grew closer to your doorstep, you flinched as you felt the unexpected heat on your neck.

You didn’t move, the hairs on the back of your neck standing.

Goosebumps covered your body as you felt Gibbs’ hand gently brush over your hip, resting on top of your coat.

“What were you going to say to Flores today?” His gruff voice came out in a low whisper against your ear.

“W-What…?” Your voice cracked.

“When he asked you to dinner,” He repeated the question in a different manner as he lowered his head towards your neck, “Were you going to say yes?”

“I— Maybe… I was thinking about it, but–”

“Y/N.”

You took a breath, stopping yourself from rambling any further as you answered him.

“No– I wasn’t, because… I wanted to go to dinner with you.”

“That’s good,“ He now sweetly whispered to you, “Don’t forget who you belong to.”

Your entire body shivered as you heard those words leave his mouth, right against the skin of your neck. If you were honest, it was all you ever wanted to hear. You’d had a thing for Gibbs for as long as you could remember. Now that you were actually hearing that he wanted you, it was barely something you could begin to believe.

“Y-Yes, Boss.”

“You don’t have to call me Boss, Y/N.” You could feel his breath raise from your neck to your ear as he gently whispered.

“Yes Sir–”

“Nope.” You could almost hear the smile on his face.

“Yes, Gibbs…?” You tried to guess again, anxious about what his response might be.

“Jethro.” He corrected you, still smirking. You slowly got an anxious grin on your face, flinching as he began to teasingly press his lips to your neck. He pressed himself against your back, his arms wrapping around you from behind. Your hands fumbled with your keys, desperately trying to find a single ounce of focus to try and open your door.

Every part of your body tensed as you felt his hand wrap around yours, gripping the key within your shaky hand. He guided it forward, pushing it into the lock and opening the door for you.

You let out a stifled, sheepish laugh as a reaction.

Gibbs quickly slowed down, noticing your anxious behavior. He gently let go of you, just setting his large hand on the center of your back as he slowly walked into the house with you. There wasn’t a second that you didn’t have that grin on your face.

There was always this… tension.

A tension between you and Gibbs, a strong one. Neither of you said a word about it until today. There were moments when you’d just look at each other, your eyes saying everything you needed to say, but nothing was done. Gibbs never did anything, you never said anything, neither of you would make the first move. You weren’t sure if Gibbs wouldn’t because he was possibly insecure, that there was a possibility of him not acting on whatever feelings he had because he was afraid they wouldn’t be returned— That he didn’t want to risk his friendship with you because he wanted something more.

In reality… it was both of you.

You were both so afraid that your pining desires would lead to a ruined relationship. Hell, you were breaking one of Gibbs’ rules in the process.

You closed the door behind the both of you, barely getting the time to lock the door before Gibbs had you pressed against the door. His hands tugged at your coat, his teeth grazing over the skin of your neck as his face was buried in the crook of your neck. You let out a gasp as one of his hands palmed against your ass, squeezing it as he continued his barrage of kisses on your neck.

Once your coat was off, you turned, cupping his head in your hands as you pressed your body to his.

Gibbs was very clearly surprised by the sudden advances, not expecting you to take your own turn at leading. He stumbled back, his arm hooked around your waist.

It didn’t take the two of you long to fumble your way to your bedroom, the temptation of just saying fuck it and dropping onto the couch being a bit too weak to overpower your longing fantasy of Gibbs forcing your face straight into your pillows.

He seemed to have a similar idea— especially considering the way that he didn’t waste another second before pushing you down onto your bed. His hands raced to your waist, tugging at your belt before he whipped it from the belt loops, looking you dead in the eyes as he snapped the belt in a teasing manner. You swallowed the anxiety-riddled lump in your throat as he then tossed your belt aside, gripping the hem of your pants and panties before quickly sliding them down your legs. Gibbs had done it so swiftly that he’d pulled your heels off in the same moment, leaving your lower half completely nude in mere seconds.

You didn’t dare say a word— You just laid there, legs hanging off of your bed, speechless.

Gibbs gave his usual, sly grin as he stood there, beginning to shrug off his coat. The functional mute eventually spoke.

“Go on.”

“What?”

Your eyes were fixed on him as he then removed his shirt as well, throwing both to the ground.

“Go on.” The only thing he changed was his tone, his intent clear. You bashfully nodded, hurriedly sitting up and grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It only took a short moment before the two of you had stripped from every piece of clothing– just staring at each other in awe for a few seconds. Part of you was too excited to wait, but the stronger part was too shocked to believe this was actually happening.

You got a quick reminder that it was real as Gibbs had practically lunged forward, pushing you down onto your back.

A meager gasp escaped your lips as his calloused hand quickly found its way between your legs, not hesitating to push two fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them. His lips met your neck once again. You could feel him sucking and kissing on the soft skin, knowing he was leaving various marks all over you. Part of you wanted to tell him not to, that they’d be seen— but once again, that second part of you had taken over. The idea of having marks from Gibbs was something you couldn’t be happier to have– to have proof that you were his.

Gibbs seemed to love the idea, his teeth grazing over your skin a few times as he trailed kisses down your shoulder. His fingers pushed deeper as he sped up a bit, suddenly hooking them inside of you.

You could see the smile form on his face as he heard the whimpers and gasps emitting from you, loving every second of it.

You flinched as he suddenly pulled his fingers from you, sitting up.

Before you could say a word, Gibbs guided you further onto the bed, rolling you over. Part of you was frozen, wondering if this was just another fantasy that you dreamed up. He held your hips firmly, kneeling behind you for a moment. You clutched the pillow in front of you, taking a breath against it. Gibbs ran his hand down to the small of your back, looking at you as he seemed to be taking in the view of your body.

“Who do you belong to?”

Your face grew hot as you heard his gruff voice sound out, the question ringing in your ears for a moment.

“You.” Your voice came out in a croak, almost a little squeak.

Gibbs leaned in, whispering against your ear.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, J-Jethro…!” You raised your voice a bit.

Once you answered, he didn’t waste another second before pushing himself inside of you. He let out a bit of a grunt as he did, which you matched with a whiney gasp. Gibbs was quick to start thrusting into you at a steady pace, his hands finding their way to your hips once again.

You grasped at the pillow, stuffing your face against the fabric.

It didn’t take much for you to be able to see the pure desire he had for you— How long he’d been thinking about doing this. He loved hearing how your moans grew louder, which only seemed to make his thrusts grow harder. You could feel his fingers dig into your hips as his grip tightened. He couldn’t help himself around you.

You could already feel the way your body trembled around him as he kept harshly fucking you, the room filled with a dull sound of skin smacking together.

“J-Jethro…!” You panted, “Jethro!”

Your whimpers only pushed him further, his thrusts growing faster. You could feel his nails slightly begin to dig into your hips— The way he twitched inside of you only proved that he was getting close himself. You were both panting and groaning. Well, Gibbs was giving off the occasional grunt, once again being rather quiet.

It wasn’t much longer before you felt yourself reach your breaking point.

Every part of your body began to shiver as you pressed your face into the pillow. You moaned, gasped, whimpered— but it didn’t stop Gibbs from continuing to fuck you silly. He continued squeezing your hips, tilting his head back as he finally came. You could feel the warmth in your stomach as he spilled into you.

The two of you sat still, taking deep breaths.

You felt Gibbs’ hand slowly run up your back, being as gentle as can be. He carefully pulled out of you, rolling you onto your back. You could feel a warm, fuzzy feeling throughout your body as you met his gaze. His blue eyes were something you loved, and to see them looking right at you, filled with such passion.

He leaned in, crawling over the top of you.

“Jethro?”

“Y/N?” He answered softly, his face hovering mere inches from yours.

“I–” Your voice cracked a bit, “I… I love you.”

You could see a smile spread over his face as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t waste another second to cradle his head in your hands, your fingers running through his silver hair.

The moment he pulled away, he didn’t wait to break his silence.

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

[throwawaywriting]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | This is Part 12

1.3k

Disclaimer: Never been pregnant.

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

You were staring mindlessly ahead of you, completely ignoring the papers waiting to be read. Today was unproductive. Your thoughts were consumed by the idea that you would soon have a baby. A brand new, utterly innocent life would be in your hands. Would they have Jethro's eyes? Your button nose? His tidy inclinations or your creative chaos? A faint smile flickered across your face as you felt the baby squirm in your stomach while you thought of the person they would eventually become.

You were so wrapped up in your daydream, you didn't notice Marcus enter the room. "Everything okay?" Marcus asked, tapping the edge of a file on your desk to get your attention. You startled slightly and looked at him bashfully, sitting up straight and folding your hands on the desk in front of you, "just pregnancy brain." He smiled wistfully and shook his head, "I still can't believe you're having a kid." "Me neither," you chortled, one hand instinctively returning to your round belly, "what can I do for you, Marcus?" "Request from NCIS," he handed you the file, "suspect a forgery ring operating aboard the Truman in Norfolk." You glanced over the file and nodded, "alright." "Do you need me to come with you?" He asked tentatively. "No, you can still leave early," you smiled, taking a deep breath before pushing yourself to a standing position. He exhaled in relief, "thank you." You hummed and tugged on your jacket, "say hi to your mother for me."

You pulled into the Navy Yard as it began to lightly drizzle. Early April showers bring May flowers. "Dr. Y/N!" Ellie's cheerful voice was the first thing you heard when you stepped off the elevator, "you are glowing," she gushed as she pulled you into a hug. "Oh," you chuckled and rubbed your stomach absentmindedly, "well, thank you." You followed her to the bullpen, where Tim and Tony were typing away. You exchanged pleasantries with the duo before Ellie escorted you down to Abby's lab. Jethro was standing behind Abby, peering over her shoulder at a computer monitor. You announced your presence by knocking on the door. "Oh my god," Abby yelped as she turned around, "Y/N, you look amazing! How far along are you? Do you know what you're having?" "Abs," Jethro put his hands up, motioning for her to calm down while he suppressed a grin. You smiled tiredly, "not far along enough, and no, it is still 'it' to us." She twisted her lips in disappointment and turned back to the monitor. Jethro gave you a peck on the forehead before grabbing a sticky note off the table and beckoning Ellie to follow him, "Bishop, you're with me." You walked around Abby's workstation to stick your face between the computer monitors, "what do you need from me, Abby?"

Two hours later, you walked back into the bullpen, almost out of breath from the short walk between the elevator and the desks. "Where's Jethro?" You huffed, noticing your husband's spot was empty. "Interrogation," McGee responded without looking away from his computer. You rubbed your lower back as you stared at him expectantly, finally asking, "can you take me to him?" "Oh, yeah, sorry," he blushed and stood, leading the way down the hall to a stainless steel door and slowing his pace, so you weren't left behind.

Tony and Ellie stood in the observation room, arms crossed, brows furrowed in concentration as they watched Jethro interrogate a suspect. Your heart fluttered when you saw your husband looking every bit the special agent he was, and you tried your best to bite back a smile. "I have the results," you spoke up from behind Tony. "And?" He asked, not looking away from the scene in front of him. "All are forgeries. No question," you shook your head. Finally, Ellie turned around to say something but stopped short and instead and gave you a weird look, "Y/N?" she asked, eyes darting from your stomach to your face. Tony turned to see what shocked Ellie, only to raise his eyebrows in surprise. "What?" You glanced down, unable to see anything other than your belly. "I...I..." she stuttered, "I think your water just broke." Your eyes widened as you stuck your hand between your legs, feeling a big wet spot as more began to trickle down your leg. "Oh fuck," you whispered, taking a few steps forward to pound on the glass. Jethro paused his line of questioning and turned to glare, his eyes perfectly conveying his level of annoyance. "No, he's--" McGee began to object. "I think Gibbs will understand breaking Rule 22 for his child, McGee," Ellie scolded as you pounded on the glass again, finally prompting Jethro to get up. You intercepted him as he opened the door to the observation room, lips pursed together in anger. "What--" "My water broke," you interrupted, holding your hand up to silence your husband. The look of irritation quickly fell off his face. "Oh," he said, eyebrows raised. "Oh," you nodded and repeated, "we---" your sentence was interrupted as a sharp pain cut through your back, causing you to double over and groan in pain. "We gotta go," Jethro grabbed your hand as you waited for the contraction to pass. Once you were able to right yourself, you nodded again, "we gotta go." You walked as quickly as you could to the elevator, one hand firmly gripping Jethro's while the other rested on the top of your stomach.

Twelve hours later, after a relatively short, ten-hour labor, you awoke from your catnap to see Jethro calmly walking around with your newborn son. You mustered the biggest smile you could, given your current level of exhaustion. For a few moments, you remained quiet to enjoy the sweet sounds of your husband's soft, rumbling hum. When he turned around and noticed you watching him, Jethro gasped softly and whispered, "look who is awake, little man," as he brushed his thumb over the baby's plump cheek. "So our son went from being 'it' to being 'little man'?" You teased, setting the glass of water back on the table next to you. Jethro smiled, his cheeks ruddy with happiness, and passed the baby to you for nursing. "You can go home at night, you know," you looked up at him, raising your eyebrows when he shook his head emphatically, "I'm here as long as you're here." You grunted and turned your attention to the little boy wrapped in your arms. "You did good today," Jethro murmured as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "How's that hand?" you chuckled. Jethro wrinkled his nose and shrugged, "I've dealt with worse," he winked at you and reached over to stroke the top of the baby's head. You savored the stillness and relished the love surrounding your little family. There was a look in Jethro's eyes you hadn't seen before, some combination of affection, optimism, and unadulterated joy. "So, what are we going to name him?" You glanced away from Jethro's loving gaze to look at your son, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the delivery. "Well," Jethro exhaled, "I don't want a junior," he continued to stroke the baby's head, gently skimming over soft tufts of hair. You giggled, "what about Michael?" Jethro shook his head, "maybe as a middle name," he paused, completely fixated on his son's squishy face. You raised your eyebrows and hummed, "okay," you dragged out in hopes Jethro would have a suggestion. But another silence fell between the two of you as you watched the baby nurse until he dozed off. When the baby's eyes closed, Jethro pressed another kiss to your forehead, and you could feel his lips curl into a gentle smile. "What about Owen?" You whispered, gently tapping the little baby's nose. "Are you an Owen?" You didn't raise your gaze to look at Jethro, but you could tell he was mulling it over. "Owen Michael Gibbs," Jethro tested the name out loud. You glanced up to see him smiling, cheeks flushing pink as he repeated the name again, "that's it. That's our boy."

The following month was a whirlwind as you tried to settle into a routine as a family of three. Your days were full of feeding, diapers, laundry, answering cries, and begging Owen to sleep. One night you woke to find Owen missing from the sleeper attached to your mattress. Turning onto your other side, you found Jethro was gone too. Feeling anxious but not yet frantic, you tiptoed to the nursery. "Jethro?" You called out softly. "Down here," you heard your husband respond from the living room. You tiptoed down the stairs carefully to see Jethro on the couch, Owen snuggled against his chest. "He was starting to fuss, but you hadn't woken up yet, so I grabbed 'im," Jethro whispered as you sat next to them, "he had a bottle, and now we are watching a movie." "Did you use the oldest one first?" He rolled his eyes but smiled, "yes, dear." You hummed and smiled back, stroking your son's head as he happily slept on his dad's chest. "Go back to bed," Jethro urged, "we are good down here." "Are you sure? You've been up with him the last two nights," you shook your head. "It's a guys' night," he shrugged, nodding to Benny, who was snoring in the armchair, "seriously, Y/N, get some sleep. We will be up after bottle number two," he reassured you when he saw your frown. "Alright," you drew out, "it's awfully lonely in that bed, though." Jethro chuckled and gently rubbed Owen's back, "I love you." "I love you too," you kissed his lips softly and then planted a gentle kiss on Owen's head before quietly heading back upstairs for some rare, uninterrupted sleep.

[throwawaywriting]

1.3k No warnings

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | This is Part 11 Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

This is Part 11

Part 12 is baby time

After 15 days and nights of talking to your unresponsive husband, he finally woke up.  “Y/N?”  At first you thought you were starting to hear things; it was so far from his deep, warm voice. But then you saw his hand move, and you heard it again, “Y/N?” You pulled yourself upright on your cot, and upon seeing his eyes blink, you shot to your feet and pressed the nurse’s button. “Jethro,” you whispered, sitting on the edge of his bed and running a hand over his hair, you kissed his cheek, “I’ve missed you.” He wasn’t able to say anything before Dr. Gufson and his nurses came in. You stepped back to give them space, standing in the furthest corner you could while still being able to watch your husband’s eyes dart around in confusion. “You’ve had us worried, Agent Gibbs,” the doctor spoke as he began to examine Jethro. “What happened?” He rasped. “My understanding is that there was an explosion Thanksgiving night,” he murmured, glancing at you for confirmation. The medical personnel bustled around the room for a few minutes before leaving with the promise to return in a few hours to get Jethro up and moving. You sat back in your bedside chair, immediately taking his hand back into yours. He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head and held a finger to his lips, “take it easy,” you lifted a straw to his mouth so he could take a sip of water. He nodded at you when he was done and cleared his throat.  “You had your little ‘ol wife worried about you,” you said as you set the cup back on the table. Jethro gave you a sad smile but didn’t try to speak.  “Let’s see what do I have to catch you up on,” you pondered, “baby is good. We just started week 23, so it’s a,” you paused as you checked your app, “mango.” He squeezed your hand as he fought to keep his eyes open while the pain medication started to take effect. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you rose to kiss his cheek softly and stretched out on your cot, finally able to fall into a relatively sound sleep.

You didn’t stir late that night when the door slid open to accommodate Will, who was doing his rounds. But Jethro had been awake for a while thanks to a dull headache assaulting his temples. When he saw Will approach, he held a finger to his lips and nodded to you to ensure your brother didn’t wake you up.  “Glad to see you’re awake,” Will whispered as he checked vitals.  “Glad to be awake,” Jethro chuckled lightly. “You gave us quite the scare,”  “She been here the whole time?” He asked, glancing down at your unmoving figure. Will nodded, “hasn’t left the hospital once” he said as he sat next to Jethro, “we’ve had a little rotation going with your team so she’s not here alone.” Jethro nodded and looked up at Will, “thank you,” he whispered.  Will nodded and patted his arm with a sad laugh, “thank you for waking up. She’s been badgering our staff nonstop.”

The next morning, you started your usual routine of showering in the adjoining bathroom and changing into a clean set of clothes Will had dropped off the previous night.  “Hey,” you smiled, seeing Jethro was awake when you exited the bathroom.  “Hey,” he smiled back, looking a bit perkier than yesterday. His eyes followed you intently as you crossed the linoleum floor to resume your place at his bedside.  “What?” You asked when you noticed him staring. He shrugged, “just admiring you.” You hummed and laughed, rubbing your stomach, “I’m sure.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as your thumb absentmindedly stroked the top of his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he finally spoke, continuing to look at you with a pained expression.  “For what?” Your brows pulled together in confusion.  “This,” he gestured around.  You chuckled and squeezed his hand, “I’ve dealt with you being in the hospital before.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean.”  “Mm, I do,” you nodded, “but I dealt with it then and I’m dealing with it now and I’ll deal with it when we have ten kids.” “Ten?” He jerked his head back, “I thought we’d stop at one.” You laughed and kissed his forehead, “only if someone can keep his hands off of me.” “Then ten might not be enough,” he nodded seriously before breaking into a grin. You smiled back at him, happy to see the twinkle return to his eyes.

Jethro was able to come home a week later. Will and Alice made sure your fridge and pantry was stocked and that Jethro was aware of his limitations. Not that he listened, of course. One morning shortly after you both returned home, you woke up alone.  “Jethro?” You called out as you went downstairs, peeking around corners to find your husband. Upon seeing the basement door open, you sighed.  “I know you are not down here working,” you said as you burst through the door. Jethro looked up at you with that irritating smile.  “Relax. I’m not workin on the boat.” You walked down the stairs and fell into place beside him at his workbench.  “What are you working on then?” “A cradle,” he shrugged, continuing to slowly sand the board in front of him. You looked up at him incredulously.  “A cradle?” You repeated.  “Yeah,” he nodded, “kid’s gonna need somewhere to sleep.” You hummed, “I kind of thought we’d just buy a crib,” you nuzzled the crook of his neck, causing enough of a distraction for him to put down the sandpaper and pull you in front of him.  “Well yeah,” he looked down at you amusedly, “but a cradle will be nice for you to have in the attic so you can paint and still have it close.” “You know, if we found out the baby’s sex, you could just use the proper pronouns instead of calling our child ‘it’.” He muffled his laughter by pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the only time in our lives we will be genuinely surprised.” You grunted, smiling into his shoulder as he pulled you into a hug.  “Well ‘it’ won’t be here for another three-ish months, so I think you can leave this and join your wife and dog on a walk, like your doctor ordered.” Jethro huffed and frowned at you, “fine.”

Jethro was cleared by his doctor a month later and you were eager for him to return to his usual schedule. You started working from home two days a week when you entered your third trimester, so there were a few occasions where his anxious assembly of baby items coincided with your anxious nesting urges. When he returned to work at the end of February, he had completely finished the list of projects made in preparation of the baby’s arrival; the crib and changing table were assembled, rocking chair and dresser refinished, walls painted, and artwork hung. And in a few months, you would be a family of three.

[throwawaywriting]

This is a long one, folks! 5.6k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, unprotected sex, NSFW, 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | This is Part 10 | Part 11

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

Everything in this post is a flashback.

You drummed your fingers on the table absentmindedly, watching Dr. Mallard and another silver haired man enter the bar. You gave Ducky a little wave, and he nodded to acknowledge your presence before making a beeline for you.  “Dr. Y/N, my dear, you look stunning as always,” he smiled as you stood and kissed both of his cheeks. Your eyes remained fixed on the stranger with him, who seemed to be looking at everything but you.  “Likewise, Dr. Mallard,” you smiled back, before bouncing glances between Ducky and the other man with an eyebrow raised. “Ah, this is Jethro Gibbs,” Ducky said, pointing at him, “and this is Dr. Y/F/N Y/L/N,” he said, pointing at you.  “Pleasure,” you smiled, shaking Jethro’s hand. He held your gaze for a few seconds before responding, “pleasure’s mine.” You caught Ducky smiling out of the corner of your eye. “Please forgive me, I forgot I promised to make mother her favorite dinner tonight, so I must leave,” he wagged his finger in the air before scuttling away. You and Jethro watched him leave and the realization dawned on both of you.  “Jethro, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say we’ve been set up,” you put a hand on your hip and looked up at his sharp blue eyes.  “You know,” Jethro smirked, pulling out your chair for you, “I think ya might be right.” You hummed and sat down, watching him closely as he sat across from you.  “But I don’t really do blind dates,” you wrinkled your nose playfully and he let out a laugh, “me either.” “So if we are both anti-blind date, would it be weird for me to order a drink?” You asked, eyes narrowed in contemplation. Jethro returned your playful smirk as the cocktail waitress arrived. He shrugged, and slightly threw his hands up in a signal for you to do as you’d like.  “Monkey 47 on the rocks, please,” you slid the drink menu towards Jethro.  “Woodford Reserve, neat,” the waitress smiled and nodded, turning to fetch your drinks.  “Monkey 47?” He asked, eyebrows raised.  “Dry gin. This is one of the only places in DC that serves it.” He hummed, very obviously sizing you up. You stared at him unflinchingly, acknowledging his gaze.  “Penny for your thoughts?” You cocked your head.  “Give me a dollar and I won’t tell ya,” his eyes wandered from your bare arms, up your shoulders, and to your face. You had to bite back a coy smile as you took in the look he gave you. The waitress delivering your drinks interrupted your staring contest. You slid her some cash as Jethro reached for his wallet, “ah, ladies don’t pay on the first date.” “This isn’t a date,” you quickly corrected, waving the waitress off with a smile. He once again sized you up as you each took a sip of your drinks.  “So, Dr. Y/L/N,” he enunciated, “are you an ME like Dr. Mallard?” You swallowed your gin carefully before responding, “no, my doctorate doesn’t deal with people, living or dead. My PhD is in art conservation.” He was very clearly taken aback by this. “Cat got your tongue?” You asked, trying to mask the fear that you’d suddenly become boring. He shook his head and sipped his bourbon, “just wondering how you met Ducky if you’re not a medical examiner.” “We serve on the board of the Arts Institute together,” you took another drink before asking, “and what is it that you do, Jethro?” “I work with Ducky,” he said simply.  “So you’re an NCIS agent then?” He narrowed his eyes at you, “what makes you say that?”  “Well I didn’t think NCIS gave non-agents firearms, but I could be wrong,” you shrugged. He again eyeballed you suspiciously, “how—,” “You’re wearing an ankle holster,” you stared at him levelly.  Jethro leaned back in his chair and smirked, “and you’re carrying on your thigh. Deal with a lot of threats in the art world?” You hummed and tried to keep a straight face, “I work Art Crime with the FBI,” a smile spread across your face as the corners of Jethro’s lips curved upwards, “Ah, the ol FBI. I knew you were too good to be true.” Your eyes narrowed and you knocked back the rest of your drink before slipping out of your chair. Grabbing your clutch off the table, you leaned in and whispered, “I’m even better than you think I am, Jethro,” giving him a kiss on his cheek before sliding your card in front of him and disappearing into the crowd. 

By the next evening, your drink with Jethro was the furthest thing from your mind when your cell rang.  “This is Y/N,” you said, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you shoved files into your bag.  “Dr. Y/L/N?” The voice asked. It took you a few seconds to register who it was.  “Well, well, well,” a smile spread across your face, “I thought you’d abide by the three day rule.” Jethro chuckled, “nah, I move faster than that.” Your heart leapt into your throat as butterflies began to swarm in your stomach.  “Jethro Gibbs, I think you might have rendered me speechless.” His smile could be heard through the phone as he asked, “what would you say to dinner?” You hummed in fake contemplation, “who’s asking?” “I am.” “Well in that case…” You trailed off before giggling and you heard him chuckle, “I’d say let me know when and where.” “Right now, outside your office.” You turned around to look out your window, and sure enough, there was Jethro leaning against his car.  He gave you a little wave and you waved back. “I’ll be down in a few,” you fought back a smile as your cheeks flushed pink.

Once you finished your end of day duties, you bounded out of the cement building your office occupied. Jethro was in the same position, leaning against his car, watching as you crossed the street to him.  “So where are we going?” You asked when you reached him, eyebrows raised in question.  “Right there,” Jethro said, gesturing towards a steakhouse down the street. “That bar is a hotspot for FBI agents,” you hummed, looking up at him with a smirk. “I think I can handle them,” he looked down at you and winked, moving forward to begin the short walk to the restaurant. You missed the little smile that tugged at the corners of his lips when you looped your arm with his.

“I’ll get our name on the list,” Jethro whispered in your ear before he went to the hostess stand.  “And I’ll go get drinks,” you said with a smile, separating from your date. You were waiting for your bottles of beer to arrive when someone tapped on your shoulder. Turning around and expecting to see Jethro, you were immensely surprised to see someone else, “Brian,” the grin began to fade off your face. A quick glance towards the front door ensured Jethro was still waiting at the hostess stand. His eyes locked with yours and you tried your best to covertly signal distress.  “What a pleasant surprise,” your former supervising agent grinned down at you, licking his lips like a lion surveying his prey. “I’m here with someone,” you said, shifting your weight, again glancing in Jethro’s direction. He nodded his head at you and began to make his way through the sea of people. “Yeah, I’m sure,” Brian chuckled, inching closer to you and raising his hand to touch your elbow. You tried to turn away, but he grabbed your forearm tightly, keeping you in place. “Let me go,” you snapped, jerking out of his grasp. “Everything alright, sweetheart?” Relief flooded over your body as you heard Jethro’s voice come from behind Brian, and before you knew it he was next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist as his lips pressed against your neck. The butterflies that disappeared upon seeing Brian now returned full force as electricity coursed through your veins. You glanced up at Brian, “oh yes, Agent Fowler was just leaving,” you flashed a fake smile and when Brian didn’t move, Jethro stared up at him levelly with a glare you were sure he used with his suspects. Brian looked at you one more time, narrowing his eyes before giving you a sly, parting smile, “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” and with a wink, he turned to leave. You rolled your eyes and whirled around to face Jethro.  “I’m sorry about that,” you handed him a bottle of beer and took a sip of your own, exhaling to steady your nerves. “Not your fault. Are you okay?” His brow was just slightly creased as he looked down at you.  “Oh yeah,” you waved him off, pausing before saying, “well, there is one thing bugging me.”  Jethro looked down at you curiously. “Don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not a fan of pet names,”  you smiled as he broke into a grin.  “Noted,” he nodded.

Your first date with Jethro was as perfect as a date could be.  “You’re a surprisingly suave man, Agent Gibbs,” you said as you linked your arm with his. He chuckled and then took a deep breath but hesitated, which you immediately picked up on.  “Uh, oh,” you teased, glancing up at him to confirm he still had some sort of a smile on his face.  “What?” He asked, looking at you innocently. “There’s a bombshell coming,” your stride was cut short as he stopped in his tracks. “What makes you say that?” Now instead of a smile, he wore a look of confusion on his face. You shrugged and wrinkled your brow, “the deep breath followed by hesitation? Telltale sign there is something difficult that needs saying.” “You a profiler as well as an art expert?”  You laughed, “I gotta know how to read people.” Jethro nodded, his guard clearly up as he studied you carefully. “Well out with it then,” you motioned to him casually. He took another deep breath and exhaled with a chuckle. “I’ve been married four times,” he shook his head. The two of you stared at each other in silence.  “Is that it?” “Yes?” He responded, his shoulders tense. “Okay,” you shrugged and looped your arm back into his, taking a step forward to encourage him to continue on your journey to your apartment, which was only two blocks away. “Okay?” He asked, still not moving. “Yeah, okay,” you shrugged again, looking up at him expectantly, “am I supposed to say something else?” Your question snapped him out of his daze and he began to walk forward with you, “I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman to shrug off multiple marriages so easily,” he finally spoke. “I mean, I’ve done a background check on you, so, I knew that,” you trailed off. “You did?” He asked, clearly amused. You hummed in confirmation before continuing, “Well, we talked about most of it during dinner, but it’s nice to know you haven’t lied about anything,” you winked at him.  “Yeah? Whaddya got on me?” You took a deep breath before launching into his dossier, “you served in Panama and Kuwait. Discharged in 1992 as a Gunnery Sergeant,” you prattled on, “joined NCIS after that, was an Agent Afloat, then assigned to headquarters here. Ex-wives are Stephanie, Rebecca, Diane, and,” you took a deep breath, “Shannon. Who was killed in a car accident with your daughter, Kelly.” You glanced up at him, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly and nodded. “You’re good.” Silence hung between the two of you as you continued your walk and you realized your analytical skills crossed a line.  “I’m sorry, I went too--” He cut you off by stepping in front of you and cupping your face with his hands, pulling you in for a kiss. “Far,” you whispered when your lips separated. Jethro shook his head, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, his eyes boring into yours “don’t apologize, it’s a sign of weakness.” “I don’t know if I agree with that,” you murmured, pulling his face back to yours. Your heart skipped a beat as one of his hands caressed your jaw and the other crept to your lower back to bring your hips flush with his. “It’s a rule,” he muttered back, his lips moving to your neck, causing you to swallow a moan as the knot in your stomach tightened. “Well I have rules, too,” you gasped between the kisses he pressed against your neck and collarbone.  “Oh you do?” He brought his face level with yours, your noses barely touching.  “Mhm,” you kissed him once again, “when in doubt, filibuster.” Jethro broke into a wide grin and chuckled, “I expected as much from someone involved in mock Congress,” he said as you resumed your walk once again. “Oh?” You asked, looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye, “that must mean you did a background check on me as well.” He nodded, “Top 5% of your high school class. Three older brothers, Nicholas, Thomas, and William. You won several essay contests in high school. National debate te—“ “Okay, you can stop. You’re making me sound like a nerd,” you interrupted and held up your hand.  He laughed, “I mean, you kind of are one. I didn’t even get into your achievements at the University of Delaware.”  You scoffed and rolled your eyes but smiled, “that’s perfectly okay.” “And, this is your apartment,” he said, looking up at the former factory your home occupied. Jethro took your hands into his, looking at you with a smitten grin, “I guess this is goodnight.” “If you want it to be,” you shrugged. You could tell he was mulling over his options.  “I’m workin’ a case,” he murmured, checking his watch before leaning down to kiss you again, “and my team is gonna wonder where I am.” You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, “wouldn’t want to worry them,” you returned his kiss and tugged on his lower lip gently, eliciting a soft grunt. You stepped back and unlocked the door, “I had a great time tonight, Jethro,” you said as you stood in the doorway.  “Me too, Y/N,” he kissed you one last time, making sure his lips lingered a little longer than before. When you got up to your apartment, you flipped the lights on and stepped to the window, pulling back the curtains to give Jethro a little wave as confirmation you were successfully inside.

Over two weeks had passed since your first date with Jethro and he hadn’t called. You were trying to not let it bother you, but at night, when you were in your apartment alone, the thoughts were all consuming.  As you had since you were a child, you channeled your emotion into painting, and that is what you were doing when your buzzer alerted you to a visitor. “Hello?” You pressed the button and spoke cautiously. “It’s me,” Jethro’s voice responded.  “Who is me?”  “Jethro,” he said with the slightest hint of amusement.  You grunted and buzzed the door open, unlocking your apartment door before returning to your canvas. There soon was a knock on your door. “It’s open!” You called, only glancing away from your painting for a split second to ensure Jethro was indeed the one who walked into your home. Neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room emanating from your record player.  “So this is your place,” he said as he stepped around, taking in the eclectic nature of your surroundings.  You hummed, “something I can help you with, Jethro?” He stepped around your easel so he was standing in front of you. The puzzled look on his face as you turned to face him almost made you smirk. “You paint in your underwear?”  “I do,” you nodded, staring at him unamused as he soaked in your almost-naked figure. Jethro pursed his lips and moved closer to you, “I’m gonna be honest with you, Emma,” he began with a deep breath. “Oh this will be good,” you shifted your weight and wiped your hands on a nearby rag while meeting his gaze. “You’re involved with someone else,” he shook his head, “and I’m really not interested in playing games.” You frowned and furrowed your brow, tossing the rag on the paint-splattered dropcloth before looking back at him, ‘what the fuck are you talking about?” His face flushed pink, “I saw you around with another guy.” “Have you been following me?” You crossed your arms and glared up at him.  He waved his hands defensively, “no, no. I stopped by your office and saw you walking arm in arm with some guy. Latino, about yea high,” he motioned a few inches above his head, “curly black hair.” Your brow remained furrowed as you wracked your brain trying to recall this event. Then it dawned on you.  “You’re talking about Marcus,” you let out a sharp laugh, “he's on my team.” Now Jethro looked confused, “you’re not dating?” You shook your head, “Marcus is married. He and his husband are very happy together.” The tension visibly left Jethro’s body as he rubbed the back of his neck, “oh.” Silence hung between the two of you.  “Feel like an asshole?” You finally asked.  “Yeah,” he chuckled, “yeah, little bit.” “Good,” you took a few steps forward to close the remaining space, “I know you have a rule about apologizing but this seems like a time to break it.” He nodded, gesturing his hands to ask if he could touch you. You nodded, and he connected with your bare waist.  “I should have asked instead of assuming.” You hummed in agreement, letting your eyes wander from his face down to his chest where you put your hands.  “Yes, you should have. But I’ll forgive you.” Jethro’s forehead pressed against yours as he smiled tiredly.  “I’ll let you get back to painting,” he said softly, removing his hands from your waist and stepping away, once again taking the opportunity to revel in your toned figure.  “You can stay,” you pushed yourself onto your tip toes and looked at him innocently.  “Nah,” he shook his head, “I have to go lick my wounds.” He kissed your forehead before  striding to the front door. You grabbed his hand to keep him from getting too far and tugged this body into yours. Jethro looked down at you, eyes bright and curious.  “I want you to stay,” you emphasized, pulling his head to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. It was as electrifying as you remembered.  “You sure?” He whispered, his hands creeping down your back.  “Yeah,” you whispered as he began kissing your neck, “yes, very sure.” Jethro growled and put his hands on the underside of your thighs, encouraging you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you to your bed, an easy feat in a studio apartment. He laid you down carefully, brushing his hands down the sides of your body to memorize the curve of your hips. He pulled back for a moment, shedding his shirt before leaning down to you. Once again, your legs wrapped around his waist as he peppered kisses down your neck, to your collarbone. “Let’s get rid of this,” he mused, unhooking your bra with ease so his trail of affection could continue down exposed skin unabated. You giggled as his scruff rubbed against the ticklish spot beneath your ribs. He glanced up at you with a coy smirk and slid your panties to the side, slowly rubbing circles on your clit before slipping a finger inside.  “Ah,” you gasped, arching your back as he quickly found your g-spot. He continued to rub, causing the tension in your stomach to build and you buried your fingers into Jethro’s hair, tugging on the short stands to get his attention.  “Jethro?”  He only grunted in response.  “Please fuck me already.” At that he removed his fingers and took off your panties, throwing them on the ground along with his pants and boxers. Jethro brought himself back up to you, his hands on either side of your head as you gently guided him in, a moan escaping your lips as he filled you.  “Oh god,” you moaned again as he pumped in and out, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. With a little pressure and some quick maneuvering, you had Jethro on his back. He looked at you with a sly smirk as his hands returned to your waist to control your speed. Things slowed down a little while you took your cues from how and where he touched you. Little whimpers began filling his ears as you leaned down to kiss his neck, making sure no marks were left behind.  “Yeah,” you gasped. You returned to an upright position while his thumb returned to your clit. Not a full minute later, your moans were louder than ever. You threw your head back and dug your fingers into Jethro’s chest, ensuring there would be some sign of you on his body in the morning.  “Oh god, oh god,” you whined while the coil in your stomach released. As you came down from your high, face flushed and glowing with pleasure, you pressed your lips against Jethro’s.  He grunted softly, causing you to grind on him harshly. His eyebrows raised in question and you nodded, giving him permission to finish inside of you. He buried his face in your neck and moaned as your hips bobbed up and down a few more times to allow him to reach his climax. When you felt him release, the tension melting from his body, you hummed in satisfaction, planting one last kiss on his collarbone before rolling off of him and onto your back. You were both silent for a moment as your breathing slowed. “So what am I supposed to call you if you don’t like pet names?” Jethro asked, turning his head to face you. You snorted and looked back at him, “maybe Y/N? My name?” He shook his head, getting to his feet and tugging his boxers on, “that’s too formal,” you watched him with an amused smile as he continued to ponder. “Well I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you slid out of bed, rehooking your bra and stepping back into your panties. “Where’re ya goin?” Jethro grabbed your wrist as you moved to walk back towards your easel.  “To keep painting,” you smiled and his hold on you loosened, allowing you to return to your work.  “Not a fan of post-coital cuddling?” You laughed and picked up your palette, dipping a brush into the still malleable oxblood acrylic. “I assumed you’d be leaving.”  “Why would you assume that?” His brow was furrowed as he approached you from behind, now wearing his t-shirt and boxers. You shrugged and kept your focus on the paint in front of you, “what did you think this was?” Jethro chuckled and brushed some hair off your neck, “I thought this was the beginning of a relationship.” At that you set the brush down and turned around. The look of surprise on your face caught him off guard, “is that not what you want?” “N-no, I do, I just,” you stuttered, “I didn’t think you did.” Jethro clicked his tongue and shook his head, “you better work on those investigative skills, agent,” he teased as he kissed your forehead and wandered towards your kitchen. You blushed and tried to not look like a smiling idiot when he glanced back at you with that mischievous smirk.

You pulled up to Jethro’s house with a deep frown on your face. He hadn’t answered or returned your calls all day, and ever the worrywart, you wanted to make sure your boyfriend of almost two years was okay. His truck and car were both in his driveway, so you took a deep breath and parked your own car on the street, stepping out into the warm summer night. Using your key to unlock his front door, you stepped into the old house, noting the only light was coming from underneath the closed basement door. You moved quietly, reaching for the doorknob, and just as you were about to turn it, the door flung open, Jethro appeared, gun pointed right at your chest, “federal agent, freeze!”  “It’s me,” you shrieked, hands flying into the air.  “Goddammit Y/N,” he huffed and lowered his weapon.  “The fuck, Jethro?” You hissed once you got over the initial shock of having a weapon drawn on you.  “What are ya doin here?” His tone was irritated as he turned and walked back into the basement. “Coming to make sure you were okay,” you snapped back. He waved his hand, like he always did when he was annoyed.  Still, you followed him to his workbench, “wanna talk about it?” You asked as you tried to wrap your arms around his waist. He grabbed your wrists and pushed you away, knocking you back a few steps.  “No, I don’t want to talk about it. Why are you even here? I didn’t ask you to be here.” You crossed your arms and pursed your lips, staring up at Jethro unflinchingly despite his rising voice, “just leave. I don’t want ya. I don’t need ya.” You sucked air between your teeth and exhaled through your nose in frustration, “when you’re ready to communicate  like the fucking adult you are, you know where I live.” Your jaw clenched tightly as you stormed up the stairs, slamming the front door shut on your way out. 

You and Jethro didn’t speak for four more days, which was previously unheard of in your relationship. Even if you were both working a case, you always found time for at least a phone call, if not a meal. So, when you wearily climbed the four flights of stairs leading to your apartment, the last person you expected to see was Jethro. Yet there he was, sitting on the steps going to the fifth floor. It seemed like he had been there awhile, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the floor.  “Hi,” he croaked out when he looked up and saw you standing in front of your apartment.  “Hi,” you sighed as you unlocked the door, “you have a key. Could have let yourself in.” Jethro shrugged and got to his feet, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.” You grunted, “I’m not sure if I want you to either,” you crossed your arms, blocking the doorway, “and I’m gonna be honest with you Jethro, I don’t have it in me to have any sort of argument right now, so can this wait?”  His lips turned up just ever so slightly, making him look a little less serious, “no argument. Rule 45.” You rolled your eyes and turned around to walk into your apartment, leaving the door open so Jethro could follow behind you. “You didn’t deserve the way I spoke to you on Monday,” he started his little speech as you dumped your work bag next to the couch before moving to the kitchen to open a much-needed bottle of wine. “You’re right, I didn’t,” you retorted, not looking up at him as you twisted the corkscrew. He sighed and opened his mouth to continue until you whirled around to face him, suddenly very ready for an argument. His mouth immediately closed as you opened yours. “I love you, Jethro, but god I am tired of having to guess how you’re feeling or what you’re doing or how you are,” you shook your head before pouring a glass of wine, “we both spend our days investigating and trying to figure out if someone is lying or hiding something or whatever,” you gestured around wildly, “I will not stay in a relationship that requires me to do that shit too. If you want us,” you motioned back and forth between the two of you, “to work, you need to communicate. I don’t know what is bothering you if you don’t tell me and I will not waste my time trying to solve it.” You took a breath before taking a sip of wine. “It wasn’t anything you--” he started off. “I don’t care what it was about,” you waved him off, “that literally does not matter. When something is bothering me, do I tell you?”  He nodded. “And if I want you to leave me alone, do I tell you?” He nodded again. “Because I have enough trust and respect in you to know you will understand those things. So why don’t you have the same trust and respect in me?” Your question caught him off guard, and he lowered his eyes as he remained silent. “Like I don’t get it,” you shook your head before draining your glass and refilling it, “I don’t get it.”  A tense silence fell between the two of you as you stared at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat, “it was a murder case,” he took a deep breath before continuing, “young Petty Officer, left behind a husband. And it made me realize,” he paused once more, “I need ya.” You didn’t say anything, only raised an eyebrow. “I need you,” he pointed at your surprised face, “and that is scary.” You exhaled, unfolding your arms and setting your wine glass on the counter before taking a few steps forward and motioning for Jethro to do the same. “I don’t want to do this again, Jethro.” He nodded, putting his hands on your shoulders and pulling you in to kiss your forehead, “we won’t.”  You laid your head on his chest and you wrapped your arms around each other. For a few minutes, you held each other in silence, happy for the stalemate to be over.

“You wanna move in?”  Jethro’s question made you choke on your coffee. You slid off the counter, gasping for air. After a few seconds of throat-clearing, you finally looked back at him, “what?” “Do you,” Jethro turned the stove burners off and stepped in front of you, “want to move in?” “In here? With you?”  He chuckled nervously, “yeah, in here with me.” Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to think of a response.  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” the shift in Jethro’s demeanor was immediate as he turned his back towards you to get plates out of the cabinet.  “No, no,” you said, gently tugging on his arm to turn him back to you, “I do. I just…I mean, you’ve seen my apartment?” Now Jethro cracked a smile, “I have.” “And you want to move all of my weird shit into this house?” He set the plates down on the counter and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking down into your brown eyes, “maybe not all of the weird. But some of it.” You hummed, “most of it?” Jethro sighed and nodded, “most of it,” he smiled.  You smiled back, your dimpled cheeks stirring up butterflies in his stomach, “let’s do it.”

The first few weeks of living together were frustrating for Jethro, until he took advantage of your absence to transform the attic into your workshop. Now the living room and dining room showed signs of you in ways other than palettes and paint brushes. Little trinkets from across the world littered the bookshelves, original artwork hung on the walls, Persian rugs and Turkish lamps warmed each room, and one of your leather sofas resided in front of the tv, fully decorated with one too many throw pillows and blankets. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” You asked as you plopped on the couch, filling up the gap left by Jethro’s arm resting on the back. When both of you were home at night, and not in the middle of a case,  you always tried to do something together.  “Well it’s dark,” he glanced out the window, “want to have a fire?” You shrugged, “sure. I’ll meet you out there.”  Jethro headed out the back door, Benny right on his heels. The dog was a birthday present last year—the first birthday you celebrated living together. You ran upstairs to track down your current favorite sweatshirt, an old NIS one you found when rearranging closet space. By the time you made it to the backyard, the fire was already going. Jethro motioned for you to join him on the large outdoor sectional you insisted you buy for hosting your brothers and their families. You laid your head in Jethro’s lap and sighed happily as he let an arm drape over you.  “Benny,” you called, seeing the juvenile dog with something in his mouth, “what do you have?”  When he didn’t acknowledge you, you sat upright and put on your dog mom voice, “Benjamin, here,” you commanded. The shepherd lowered his ears and slunk to you, dropping a thick wooden dowel in your lap.  “What the,” you trailed off as you struggled to see the carving on the side. Of course, you forgot your glasses inside.  “Here,” Jethro held out his hand, setting his beer on the ground. You handed it to him without a second thought, watching in amusement as he tried to make out the scribbles.  “It says, he mused, “will you,” he paused and reached his hand into his sweatshirt pouch, “marry me?”  You froze, eyes wide as Jethro held out an engagement ring.  “Oh my god,” you clapped your hands over your mouth, eyes starting to water, “Jethro are you serious?” He chuckled, the heat from the fire turning his cheeks red, “very.” You pulled Jethro in for a kiss, smiling against his lips, “yes,” you whispered, “absolutely.” Jethro smiled and slipped the ring on your finger. 

The wedding took place a month later, in your backyard, with only your brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, and Marcus and Allen in attendance. Ducky officiated. 

[throwawaywriting]

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Warnings: Injury, swearing A/N: Part 10 (flashback) will post tomorrow!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | This is Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

It started to snow just after Jethro left and Will insisted you spend the night. So, the entire family settled into the living room to watch Charlie Brown. You were stretched out on the couch with Harper snuggled at your side when your phone rang. Then Will’s phone rang. Then your heart sank. “Hello?” Your voice was hardly more than a whisper as you pulled yourself into a sitting position.  “Y/N, it’s Tony.” “What happened?” You were now on your feet, stepping over the sleepy bodies of your nieces and nephews to get to the foyer. “A truck exp—” “Where is he?” You cut Tony off as you slipped on your boots. “Portsmouth.” “I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” you hung up, “oh fuck,” you said as you remembered you didn’t have a car. You whirled around to find your brothers, Alice, and Lena all putting their shoes and jackets on.  “I just need to borrow a car,” you said, shaking your head frantically. “We’re going with you,” Lena said firmly, “Hope is staying with the kids.”  You stood in the foyer, mouth agape as you watched Nick and Will grab their keys. “Shut your trap, let’s go,” Nick barked at you, grabbing your elbow and ushering you outside.

“I’ll see if I can get an update from Tolliver,” Will said, running out of the elevator to find his colleague.  “What happened?” You demanded as soon as you saw Jethro’s team in the waiting room. They got to their feet and opened their mouths to say something, but all were rendered speechless as your jacket fell open to reveal your baby bump.  “Ar--” Tony started before being smacked in the shoulder by Tim, “don’t ask that,” the younger agent hissed.  “What the fuck happened?” You repeated your question.  “There was an explosion,” Ellie stepped forward, putting herself between you and the gobsmacked male agents. “I thought it was a murder investigation?”  “It led to an underground terrorist cell and a truck detonated as we began to make our assault.” You let out the breath you had been holding, suddenly feeling flushed and lightheaded.  “Y/N, you need to sit down,” Alice took your hand and guided you down into a chair, tugging your jacket off as she asked Nick to get some ice. Your oldest brother nodded and took off down the hallway. Tom pushed a trash bin in front of you just as you began to dry heave. “Give her some room,” Alice shooed everyone back a bit while you steadied your breathing. You took a few sips from the cup of water Lena handed you before returning your attention to the NCIS agents. “Is he okay? Who is investigating?” “I think Will can give you a better answer on the first question,” Alice murmured as she continued rubbing your back.  “It was a joint task force with the FBI and Homeland Security. I will find out the lead agent,” Tony said, stepping away from the group to make a few calls. “What else?” You asked, looking up at Tim and Ellie. Tim shrugged helplessly, “that’s all we know, Y/N.”  You leaned back in your chair and took a deep breath. Tom, ever the strong and silent type, sat next to you and took your hand.  “Fornell is lead agent,” DiNozzo announced, coming back into view. You exhaled, at least one of your concerns being alleviated.  “So you just brought the whole party along, huh?” He asked, glancing around the suddenly, almost-full waiting room. You found his comment funny enough to produce an amused huff. You were going to introduce everyone, but stopped yourself when you saw Will rounding the nurses station.  “Well?” You asked, jumping to your feet.  “He’s critical, but stable,” Will nodded at you, “he’s intubated and he’s had a CT.” You stared at Will for a few seconds, “that’s it?”

“Y/N, he’s been here less than an hour,” Alice soothed, trying to calm you. You jerked out of her grasp and began to pace, putting a hand to your forehead. “Y/N, sit down,” Tom pleaded.  “Can I see him?” You didn’t even bother looking at Will, you knew what the answer was. “Not yet.” You shook your head, “I need some air,” you left everyone in the waiting room staring after you.  “I got her,” Nick muttered, grabbing your jacket and following you to the stairwell. 

He wasn’t the one you expected to see when the sound of the door closing made you turn around.  “Put this on,” he commanded, handing you the wool jacket you had left behind. You grunted, but did as he asked while he sat on the bench next to you. “You’re an aggravating younger sister, you know that?” He finally broke the silence, but he at least got you to laugh. “You’re an even more aggravating older brother.”  He shrugged, choosing to not defend himself. “You don’t have to be so mean to Jethro,” you finally sighed.  “I’m not mean to him. He’s too scary to be mean to in person.” Again, you laughed, “whatever. You know what I mean.”  Nick nodded, his slight grin fading quickly, “I just…” he trailed off as he searched for his words, “I just worried about this happening,” he gestured to the hospital looming overhead. “He’s been wounded in the line of duty before,” you turned to him, confused. “No, no, I meant this,” he included you in the second gesture, “him being wounded or worse and leaving you behind with a kid.”  Now your brow furrowed intensely, “you’ve been giving us shit about not having kids for years!” Nick clicked his tongue, “I thought a kid would make him seek a different occupation.” “Wow, you don’t know him well at all,” your words were slightly lifted by a chuckle. He shrugged again, “you didn’t really give us the chance to get to know him.”  Now it was your turn to shrug, “Will and Tom figured it out.” “Will is a Naval neurosurgeon literally stationed at this hospital, and Tom teaches International Relations at Georgetown. They have a lot more in common with Jethro than I do.”  You narrowed your eyes at your brother, gasping when the realization hit you “you were afraid he wouldn’t like you.”  Nick’s scoff confirmed your suspicions were correct.  “I mean, if it makes you feel any better, he doesn’t like you,” you chuckled through your tears.  Your brother grunted, “I suppose I deserve that.” You hummed in agreement, “you do.”  Nick took your hand and turned to you, “I’ll do better. If you have to deal with this shit on a regular basis, you don’t need your older brother making your life any worse.”

You and Nick returned to the waiting room after spending a few more minutes talking outside. “Wow, they didn’t kill each other!” Will exclaimed to Tom and they both turned to you and Nick, arms open, “did you make up?”  “You’re the worst,” Nick groaned but participated in the group hug.  “You alright?” Tom asked once the four of you separated. “No,” you shrugged, wiping at your eyes. “Dr. Tolliver said they are going to do a few more tests and then you can go to his room,” Will tugged on your arm to get you to sit down.  “I’ll need someone to get a few things from home,” you nodded at him.  “You’re not sleeping here,” Nick protested, “you’re pregnant.”  “Nick,” Tom closed his eyes and shook his head, “don’t.”  Nick pursed his lips, but stopped as his younger brother requested. “Lena and I can go to your house,” Alice said, getting to her feet, “just text me what you need.” “Can you also take Benny?” She nodded, “don’t hover,” she commanded, pointing a finger at each of your brothers before departing with Lena. “You’re siblings!” Tony suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers.  The four of you shifted your eyes to glance at Tony, but no one moved their head.  “I can’t believe Jethro once told me you were his best agent,” you teased, noticing Tim and Ellie’s mouths fall open.  “He’s said that?” Tony asked with wide eyes.  You only smiled and shook your head before leaning back and closing your eyes. 

Lena and Alice returned to the hospital an hour later, lugging a duffel bag full of your requested items, and left soon afterwards with your brothers, with Will making sure you were set up comfortably in Jethro’s room. Granted, you wouldn’t call a hospital cot comfortable, but it beat the waiting room chairs. Sleep only came to you for an hour or so at a time, often being woken by the urge to get up and walk around. At least when you were restless at home, you could do something. Here, your only option was pacing. Days passed. “His scans all look normal,” the doctor would say, “we just aren’t sure why he isn’t waking up.” 

Will checked in frequently when he was on duty, Tom and Lena had a rotation to visit after work, and Alice stopped by after her shift at the clinic. But during the day, you were usually kept company by one of Jethro’s team.  “So I have to ask,” Tony broke the silence and leaned forward to look at you intently, “how did you two meet?” The ghost of a smile appeared on your face as you looked at Jethro.  “We sort of met through Ducky,” you finally spoke, squeezing your husband’s unresponsive hand. “And how do you know Ducky?” “We served on the board of the Art Institute,” you shrugged. “And that was it? Ducky was like, ‘hey there’s this mute you oughta meet’?” You laughed, “being a man of few words does not a mute make.” Tony smiled at you before taking a sip of his coffee, “I just can’t believe he didn’t tell us he’s been with someone for five years.” “Rule 4,” you said as you returned his smile, “and our work lives never intersected. There was no need to divulge.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, but you could tell he was pondering how to phrase his next question.  “I’m due in the middle of April,” you said, glancing at him briefly before returning your focus to Jethro. Tony blinked, surprised for a moment before chuckling, “you’re good.” “I’m a federal agent too, you know,” you winked. 

Tom brought you dinner that night, and stayed for a few hours afterwards so you had company until it was time for him to return home. Once you were alone with Jethro, you stretched out on your cot next to his bed, wistfully thinking of the first few years as a couple.

[throwawaywriting]

pumpkin or apple // cocoa or cider // halloween or thanksgiving // leaf piles or apple picking // hay ride or corn maze // wooly sweater or furry slippers // pumpkin carving or knitting // squash or sweet potato I love both// black cat or bat // skeletons or witches I am both// fake blood or fake spiders // mashed potatoes or stuffing // orange or black // apple pie or maple donuts // marshmallows or candy corn // vampire or werewolf // fireplace or cozy nook // spiced wine or craft beer // candied apples or s'mores // big scarf or oversize hoodie

Thanks @fanf1ctionwrit1n 🥰🥰

@alesaab @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @simpforcrimeshows @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

autumn this or that!

was tagged by meg!!! ty meg ily <33 @ssahotchie !!!

pumpkin or apple // cocoa or cider // halloween or thanksgiving // leaf piles or apple picking // hay ride or corn maze // wooly sweater or furry slippers // pumpkin carving or knitting // squash or sweet potato // black cat or bat // skeletons or witches // fake blood or fake spiders // mashed potatoes or stuffing // orange or black // apple pie or maple donuts // marshmallows or candy corn // vampire or werewolf // fireplace or cozy nook // spiced wine or craft beer // candied apples or s'mores // big scarf or oversize hoodie

tagging (no pressure :D!!) @ssahotchswifemain @ssa-h0tchner @shmaptainhotchnersmain @jillys-feral-fandoms @luvfrommars @luvshack @babyjordy @gxtitobxby @daisycinema @pervhotch @wtf-holly and anyone else who wants to particpate!!!!!

[throwawaywriting]

🥰🥰 thanks @fanf1ctionwrit1n

In no order:

Heat Waves by Glass Animals

I am not a woman, I’m a god by Halsey

If I Was The Priest by Bruce Springsteen

@alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

🎶new tag game put your 3 favorite songs at the moment and tag 5 people 🎶

Thanks for the tag @insane-perfectionist02 this is such a crazy mix right now 😂

1. Adore You - Harry Styles

2. Problematic - Bo Burnham

3. Stomp! - The Brothers Johnson

I tag: @buckydaddy @bucky-barmes @sweetdreamsbuck @posinhay @strwbrrybucky 😘

[throwawaywriting]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | This is Part 8 |  Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

1.5k. This is pretty much all fluff. 

Warnings: allusion of miscarriage, swearing

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog @crazyaboutcwsupernatural

Thankfully, Jethro was still working the same case and ended up leaving the house well before your doctor’s office opened, giving you the perfect opportunity to call and make an appointment without having to worry about your husband eavesdropping. Due to your history of miscarriage, they were able to squeeze you into her schedule for later that morning.  “Where ya been?” Jethro asked as you returned from your appointment.  “Jethro,” you said, surprised to find him sitting in the furthest living room chair. The look on his face was confirmation you had been caught. “I wasn’t expecting you to be home,” you set your purse on the entry table. He waved his hands and got off the couch, moving to stand in front of you, “what did they say?”  “10 weeks,” your voice trembled, “healthy. heartbeat. 99.4% chance,” you managed to choke out before the tears began to spill. “Y/N,” he whispered, pulling you into a tight hug and allowing his jacket to muffle your cries. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, happily soaking in the realization that this pregnancy had stuck, and the two of you were going to be parents.

In your five years together, overbearing would not have been a word you used to describe Jethro. If anything, he could be frustratingly distant. That changed almost instantly when you were confirmed to have a healthy, and statistically likely to continue, pregnancy. At first, you thought it was cute when he’d call multiple times a day to see how you were feeling and if he could bring you anything. But then you returned to the office and started working cases again and his phone calls didn’t stop. In fact, you’d be willing to bet they increased.  “Hey, babe?” You started as Jethro cleared the table on a rare night he was home for dinner. “Uh oh, Ben, she called me babe,” he remarked to the nearby dog. You giggled and followed Jethro into the kitchen, jumping up to sit on the counter and blocking his access to the dishwasher. Jethro cleared his throat and looked up at you in moderate amusement before nodding and setting the plates in the sink. “Yes, dear?” He asked, putting his hands on your thighs. “I love you--” “But?” Jethro interrupted, causing your mouth to drop open.  “What makes you think there is a but?” “Am I wrong?” Now he smirked, knowing full well he was not wrong in the slightest. You sighed and put your hands over his. “No, you aren’t. I love you, but I really need you to stop calling me so much at work,” your eyes twinkled as you looked down at him. “Oh, that’s it?” His head jerked back a little. “What?” Your brow creased in confusion.  “Okay,” he shrugged with a little laugh, “I can do that,” and began rinsing the plates he had put in the sink. “What?” “That baby affecting your hearing, Y/N?” He teased, looking up at you with a smile.  “N-no,” you stuttered, “you’ve just been calling so much I thought this would be more of a discussion.” “Hey,” he slid you further down the counter so he could access the dishwasher, “it’s your first rodeo,” he shrugged again, “I want to make sure you know you aren’t alone.”  “Oh,” you said softly, a little smile spreading across your face, “I know I’m not.”  Jethro looked up at you with a smile and lifted your legs so they wrapped around his waist. “Good,” he whispered into your hair as he carried you to the living room, where he proceeded to rub your feet while watching a movie.

Six weeks later, Jethro found you standing in front of the bedroom mirror, clothes strewn about the room like a tornado ripped through your closet. And it had. You had. You were the tornado. “Y/N?” He asked, softly knocking on the ajar door so he didn’t completely spook you. “Yeah,” you sighed, turning around, hands on your hips, baby bump fully exposed as you stood clad only in a bra and panties.  “It’s not funny,” you protested as he suppressed a chuckle, “none of my clothes fit me anymore.” “I know, I know,” he pulled you in for a hug and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “but you look beautiful.”  You huffed, “I’ll be sure to tell AD Arthur that when I report to work in just my underwear.”  Now Jethro didn’t even bother suppressing his laugh, “come on, wear one of my old sweaters. It’s October, you can get away with it.” “But what about my pants?” You pouted as he tossed you a chunky wool sweater that would certainly hide your bump. He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged with one of your black elastic hair ties, picking a pair of discarded jeans off the floor and looping it through the buttonhole. You stared up at him as if he had just done a magic trick.  “Shannon had to do this when she was pregnant with Kelly,” Jethro spoke softly as he handed the jeans back to you.  “Oh,” you whispered, taking the pants from him and letting the silence sit between the two of you for a moment.  “We haven’t really talked about them since,” you gestured to your bulging stomach.  He nodded, “because they are gone and you,” he pointed to you, “and this one,” he put a hand to your abdomen, “are here.”  You smiled sadly, looking up at him, “I don’t want this to seem like a replacement,” you stuttered out, attempting to be as clear as you could.  Jethro immediately shook his head vigorously, “no, nope. Never, “ he pressed his forehead against yours and placed a kiss on your lips, “I love you.”  “I love you too.” 

“We going to Thanksgiving at Will’s?” Jethro asked you, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading. It was his birthday, and as usual, he wanted nothing other than to spend the afternoon with you before having a steak dinner and homemade cake. You hummed in confirmation as you continued to fold laundry. “Do they know?” Now his eyes darted to you for a moment. “Know what?”  Jethro lowered the paper and peered at you curiously, a little smirk appearing on his face when he realized you had not heard a word he said. He gently nudged your leg, finally bringing your attention to him. “I’m sorry, what?” You blushed.  “We are going to Will’s for Thanksgiving?” You nodded, “yes, everyone will be there.” “Do they know you are pregnant?” He repeated, looking at you over his glasses. You hummed, frowning at him, “we told them together.” He rolled his eyes, “you know I meant Nick and Hope.” At that you grunted; you hadn’t spoken to Nick since Harper’s birthday. “I’m not sure if one of the others told him or not.” Jethro took note of you nervously biting your lower lip before returning his focus to the newspaper. “Should I bring my sidearm?”  You laughed, “only if I get to shoot first.”

Two days later, you and Jethro were sitting at the ‘adult’ table when his phone rang.  “Excuse me,” he said softly, shooting you an apologetic look before standing and taking the call in the foyer.  “I swear to god, if you ruin Thanksgiving too, you are going to be banned from this house,” Will spoke sharply, staring daggers at Nick.  “What would I possibly have to say about my brother-in-law leaving a holiday dinner to answer a work call?” Nick asked innocently, taking a sip of his drink.  “At least he contributes to society instead of making millions off the backs of underpaid laborers,” you shot back.  “At least I make millions,” he retorted. “Jesus fucking christ,” Tom tossed his knife and fork down on his plate, causing everyone to jump because of the clatter “do you two ever have anything nice to say about each other?” “No,” you and Nick said, shaking your heads. “Hey, they agreed on something!” Will said sarcastically, shaking his head. Jethro’s waving hand caught your attention and you stood up, once again leaving your brothers and their wives sitting at the table to rebuke Nick. “Everything okay?” You asked, hoping he was going to say it was something that could wait until after dinner. The look on his face told you he wouldn’t be staying. “Dead Naval Intelligence Officer,” he answered with a shake of his head, “I’ll call a cab so you can have the car.” “No, no,” you waved your hand, “take the car. Will can drive me home.” Jethro hesitated, “are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure. Bossman has to be first on the scene,” you winked and stretched up to kiss his lips.  “Alright,” he murmured, cupping your face with his hands to deepen the kiss, “I love you,” he said, brushing one hand over your stomach. “I love you too. Be safe,” you kissed him one more time and shut the door behind you, watching him pull out of the driveway and speed away.  “Work?” Will asked, startling you slightly.  “Yeah, murder case,” you nodded, “the fucking way she goes, right?” Will laughed at a reference to one of your mutually-loved TV shows, “come on, we put duct tape over Nick’s mouth and Alice has half a pumpkin pie with your name on it.” He slung his arm around your shoulders and the two of you walked back into the dining room.

[throwawaywriting]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | This is Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 2k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, allusion of miscarriage 

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n @harrypotteranna23-blog

A week later, you and your team arrived at Dulles International Airport after traveling for over 14 hours. The three of you were exhausted from your month-long journey and everyone was anxious to get home. “Good work, guys,” you fist bumped Marcus and Daniel as you waited for the elevator doors to close. “I hope we never have to do a trip like this again,” Daniel lamented and Marcus nodded in agreement. You smiled understandingly, knowing Daniel hated being away from his kids and Marcus just hated long trips in general. “I don’t want either of you to work for the rest of the week,” you pointed at them seriously when the doors opened for your floor and you stepped out of the carriage, “spend time with your families.” “Yes, ma’am,” Marcus winked and Daniel flashed a thumbs up. With a wave, you turned from the closing elevator doors and made your way to your car.

Washington DC was sleepy at 5 on a Tuesday morning, with most of the city’s residents just starting to wake up and begin the day. You tried to call Jethro several times on your drive back home, but each time his cell rang and rang before going to voicemail.  “Where are you, Jethro?” You muttered to yourself when he didn’t answer your third call. As you turned down your street, your worry lessened when you saw his vehicles in the driveway. When you entered the house, you weren’t greeted by Benny, which meant he was probably with Tom and Lena, which meant Jethro was working a case. And it must have been another rough one if he didn’t have his phone on him. You softly nudged the basement door open, a warm stream of light spilling into the living room. And, there he was, standing at his work bench, his back to the door, fussing with a planer. When he couldn’t get it fixed, he whirled around and threw it against the wall, jaw clenched in pure frustration.  “Now why did it deserve that?” You asked. A temporary look of confusion crossed his face until he realized it was you. Finally, home.  “Hey,” he said softly, watching as you descended the stairs. “Hey,” you responded in a similar tone, wrapping your arms around his neck and stretching up on your tiptoes to kiss him for the first time in almost a month. He gripped your hips as he kissed you back hungrily, eventually moving his hands down to the backside of your thighs. You giggled as he lifted you up, prompting you to hook your legs around his waist. “Not beating around the bush, are you?” You teased as he began to carry you back upstairs. “Nope. Gotta make up for lost time,” he smiled and you began to kiss around his jaw and down his neck; your attempts to go lower were thwarted by his hoodie. 

Somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, you tugged off your blouse and unhooked your bra, leaving you completely topless by the time Jethro laid you onto the bed. You don’t remember him ever being this...needy. Whether it was the case he was currently working, or the fact you had been separated for so long, you weren’t sure. But you also weren’t complaining. He tugged your jeans down, tossing them aside carelessly before beginning to kiss up your bare legs. The further up he got, the more his stubble started to tickle.  “Jethro,” you gasped as his lips reached your center, focusing all of his attention on your nub. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he continued, refusing to stop until your legs began to tremble, confirming your orgasm was right around the corner. When your back arched and breathy moans filled his ears as you began to pull on his hair, Jethro knew you were ready for him to slow down to gentle licks until your breathing returned to normal. He began to kiss his way up your abdomen, just rough enough to leave light marks scattered across your skin. When his neck was finally within range, you began to leave marks of your own.  “Y/N,” Jethro warned lowly, causing you to smile up at him innocently. When you continued, he pulled away and stood up, grabbing your ankles and dragging your body to the edge of the mattress before gently pushing into you.  “Jethro,” you moaned, digging your fingers into his forearms as his hands pinned your hips down. He grunted as he slowly began pumping in and out, making sure each thrust was deep and intense. You put a hand on the nape of his neck and guided his torso down to yours. His actions paused for a moment as he buried his face into your neck, breathing in your favorite perfume. Your legs wrapped around his back, and he lifted you up, his hands splayed across your ass. You kept your arms around his neck as he sat on the edge of the bed with you on his lap.  “God,” he moaned into your hair as you began to slowly buck your hips, “you feel good.” Your reply stuck in your throat as the tension began to build in your core. You began to move harder and faster, eager to reach your first climax in four weeks.  “Jethro,” you whined, tilting your head back as your body began to tremble from the intensity of the coil in your stomach unraveling. One of his hands tangled in your hair to tilt your head back to him, resulting in your final orgasmic moan being made against his lips. You could tell he was close and a few more seconds of riding resulted in his finish. As the two of you panted while coming down from the high.  “Welcome home,” he chuckled breathily, kissing you once again. You hummed and kissed him back, smiling coyly as you rose off his lap to get ready for bed. 

“I missed you,” Jethro said as he slid under the covers with you.  “I missed you too,” you sighed, breathing in the smell of his sweatshirt now serving as your pajamas and happily snuggling into his chest. You wanted so desperately to stay awake and enjoy your husband’s company, but you were so warm and cozy, finally sleeping next to Jethro after so many days apart. “I love you,” he whispered into your ear as he felt your breathing deepen.  “Love you,” you mumbled back before finally slipping off to dreamland. As much as Jethro knew he needed to get back to the office, he could not bring himself to leave you. Sleep wasn’t something that came easily to him, especially when you weren’t home, so when his eyelids began to droop too, he wasn’t going to fight it. After all, it would be better if he returned to the case with a clear and rested head. 

Except, Jethro left his phone in the bullpen. And when McGee got a breakthrough, the team knew they were going to need to track their boss down. After swinging by the diner, they made their way to the house. “Boss?” DiNozzos’s voice cut through the silence, causing both of you to stir.   “Christ,” Jethro muttered into his pillow, heaving a great sigh.  You smiled sleepily and buried your face into the crook of his neck, “duty calls.” “Gibbs?” McGee’s voice clearly came from just outside the bedroom door, the hinges creaking as he nudged the door open slowly, “oh,” the agent recoiled when he saw the two of you in bed.  “Relax Tim, we were just sleepin,” Jethro huffed, pulling his arm out from under you, “I’ll be down in a minute.” He padded into the bathroom to splash water on his face and re-emerged fully dressed for work. You pouted as he walked around the bed to plant a kiss on your lips, “I’ll see ya tonight.” You hummed, “I’ll probably still be in bed.”  “That just makes it easier for me,” he laughed, kissing you one last time before exiting the bedroom and bounding downstairs to join his team. You heard the lock on the front door click into place, and before you knew it, you were falling asleep once again. 

You knew it was in your best interest to be up and moving by noon, maybe one at the latest. Weeks of international travel had messed with your internal clock, and you wanted to settle back into DC timing as soon as you could. But, you slept until about 4. Knowing you had a few hours to kill before Jethro got home, you went through the house, cleaning the kitchen and the bathrooms, and doing all of the little things you noticed Jethro hadn’t when you were gone. When you finally got to the attic, the first thing you saw made you both happy and sad. On the leather couch, which was usually empty, you found a full sized pillow and a pile of blankets, along with an old TV and VCR Jethro had set on the coffee table. You knew he missed you, but you hadn’t realized he was missing you badly enough to sleep in your studio. 

As the sun disappeared outside, you went back downstairs to start laundry and begin making dinner. You were halfway through chopping up carrots when the front door opened and Benny charged into the kitchen, his tongue hanging out in absolute delight that his mom was home.  “Hi baby,” you cooed, kneeling down to hug the panting dog. He sat and whined as he covered your face in kisses. “Looks like he missed you, too,” Jethro chuckled as he set Benny’s travel bag on the counter. You hummed and smiled, soaking in Benny’s attention while Jethro heated up a frying pan before dropping the steaks in with a sizzle. “Oh,” you gasped as the smell of cooking meat hit your nose, “oh, god,” you shot to your feet and bolted to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before you vomited. Jethro was right behind you, gently gathering your hair in one hand and rubbing your back with the other. “Y/N,” Jethro started as you lifted yourself off the floor. “Don’t,” you said, pointing at him before taking a swig of mouthwash to get the taste of bile out of your mouth. “When’s the last time you had your period?” He sighed and looked at you with an eyebrow raised. You glared at him as you swished the minty liquid around your mouth for a few seconds before spitting into the sink.  “Jethro,” you sighed and turned back to him with crossed arms, “I’ve been traveling for four weeks.”  “So?” He followed you back into the kitchen, where he quickly put the partially seared steak back in the fridge when you began gagging again.  “You been having any other symptoms?” He asked, pulling out the toaster and popping in two slices of bread. When you didn’t answer, he turned to give you his icy glare. “Y/N,” he said firmly, causing you to roll your eyes and wave him off, opting to leave the kitchen and sprawl out on the living room couch. He soon set two pieces of toast and a sliced apple on the coffee table.  “Eat,” he commanded before walking out the front door.

Jethro returned fifteen minutes later, tossing the Walgreens bag at you. “Go. Now,” he commanded, pointing to the bathroom door. You pursed your lips and shook your head, “no.” He scratched his head in exasperation, taking a deep breath before crouching in front of you. “Why not?” He asked gently as he cupped your face in his hands. “You know why,” you muttered, closing your eyes so you didn’t have to stare into his. “Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “Y/N, look at me.” You sighed and reluctantly opened your eyes. “No matter what happens, I’m here,” the rough pads of his thumbs brushed over your cheeks as he stared at you earnestly, “no matter what,” he repeated.  “Okay,” you whispered, picking up the bag and retreating from your husband’s grasp. Jethro sat on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands laced together as he stared blankly at the floor, waiting for you to return.  “Well?” He asked upon realizing you had finished. You rolled your lips together and shrugged, sitting on the other end of the couch and laying your legs across his lap. Jethro nodded and turned on the TV. You prayed he couldn’t hear your wildly pounding heart.  You were pregnant. Again.

[throwawaywriting]

Tagged by @simpforcrimeshows

3 ships: I’m not super invested in ships, but Rollisi, Garvez, and gun-to-my-head-have-to-pick-a-third, Bensler.

Last song: Moonlight Motel by Bruce Springsteen. This is a Gibbs song.

Last movie: Reno 911 Miami

Currently reading: Under the Big Top, Women Don’t Owe You Pretty, and Buy Yourself the Fucking Lilies.

Currently craving: Birthday cake

I don’t really know many people on here yet since I just kind of came out of fucking nowhere 🙃

tag game - tag 9 people who you want to get to know better!!

Tagged by @ssahotchie ♥️

3 ships: ahh i ship a lot but from cm i ship garvez, spencelle (don’t come at me lol) and jemily, and from ncis i like tiva and mcabby

last song: waking up slow, gabrielle aplin

last movie: spiderman far from home (thanks to my brother lmao)

currently reading: i’m not reading anything but i plan to read fangirl by rainbow rowell again soon, and i just finished “The Disappearance of the Girl” by @brielarsonist

currently craving: mmm a lemonade maybe, because i just had a maruchan soup as dinner 😂

tagging: @simpforcrimeshows @xyzhoneybee @angelhotchner @hotch-stufff @fanf1ctionwrit1n @word-scribbless @nerdyfangirl67 @sade-shark

[throwawaywriting]

Me, trying to write a smut scene that isn’t similar to the others I’ve written 🥴

[throwawaywriting]

Wow what a feeling to be blessed on a Monday 😇

Ascendancy [Gibbs One-Shot]

THIS WORK IS NSFW. 18+ MINORS DNI

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Female Reader

One thing I'd like to note before you read this, I'm going to be switching my one-shots to first person instead of second person. I personally don't like writing in second person ;u;

Prompt: Fluff #9. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

Tags/Warnings: Fluff - Smut(Unprotected / Public / Rushed Sex)

Summary: When you start turning down other members of the team when they go out drinking or have get-togethers, Gibbs starts to wonder if he's rubbing off on you.

Word Count: 2,265 & 9,563 Characters

A/N: Ok sometimes I don't like using the original word so I use a synonym, and since Ascendancy seems like such an odd word, it's a synonym for 'influence' in reference to the prompt. <3

This one was kinda funny because he's basically just dragging her everywhere lmao

Leroy Jethro Gibbs Tag List: @navalcriminalimagines @simpforcrimeshows @specialagentastra @alesaab

Forever Tag List: @alexxavicry

One-Shot Masterlist

My Prompt List

“Oh, come on!” DiNozzo’s sarcastically irritated voice erupted as he stood beside my desk with Abby and McGee. “We hardly ever get a chance to go out together and you haven’t come with us the last six times! Six!”

“Is it really six?”

I tilted my head as I looked down at the reports. I had plenty of time to do them later, but if I was honest, I just didn’t feel like going out tonight.

“Yes! Six times!” He raised his hands defensively as he began to ramble off with his film references, “The Sixth Sense, Six Ways To Sunday, Six Minutes To Midnight! Six times!”

“Come on, Y/N, you’re starting to turn into Gibbs.”

As soon as McGee cracked his joke about Gibbs, everyone got quiet, glancing over at him as he sat at his desk. He glared at them over the top of his computer monitor, his glasses resting on his nose. There was an intense silence as everyone just locked eyes.

“Forget about it, it’s fine.” Tony tensed up as he lugged his things to the elevator, Abby following him.

“Yup, uh— see you on Monday, boss.” McGee sheepishly scrambled to the elevator, wanting to get out of the situation as fast as he could.

I let out a sigh of relief, continuing to fill out the report for the case we’d solved today. As usual, Gibbs cracked down on the suspect and got a full, in-detail confession. We got out killer, the family got closure, the same old routine.

Although, it didn’t get old to me.

With Gibbs around, I didn’t mind the repetition at all. At my old job with the NYPD, it was starting to be a bit too irritating, but with Gibbs? He always kept me on the edge of my seat, on my toes, waiting for the next big thing. Even if the ‘next big thing’ was just another case of assault, theft, murder— He kept it interesting.

My train of thought was interrupted as I noticed Gibbs standing in front of my desk, towering over me.

I tensed up a bit as his icy blue eyes practically pierced into my soul.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Huh?”

“They’re right.” He gestured to the elevator. “You haven’t been going out with them for a while. What’s going on?”

I noticed the look of worry that was growing on his face as he awaited my answer. His eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed as he loomed over the desk, no longer wearing his glasses.

“Nothing’s going on, Gibbs.” I made sure to smile to reinforce that I was fine. “I just didn’t feel like going out tonight.”

“And the other six times?”

“I just… Didn’t feel like going out. I don’t know, Gibbs.”

We both stood there for a moment, staring each other down, both confused. Gibbs glanced at the elevator, letting out a sigh as he reached forward, turning off the lamp at my desk.

“Come on.”

“Hey!” I huffed a bit as I closed the folder for the case report, putting it away. I needed to work on it, but I knew that if Gibbs told me to do something, I needed to listen. I watched as he grabbed his keys, glasses, and his phone. I let out an irritated sigh as I grabbed my thing as well, hurrying to follow him out of the bullpen and to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” I glanced at him, confused.

“That’d ruin the surprise.” He got that sly grin on his face as the elevator doors closed. I just stared at him in confusion.

The trip down to the parking lot felt dreadfully long. When we got outside, it felt nice out. The weather was perfect. It was a little on the cold side, but I liked the cold better. Gibbs looked over at me as he suddenly stepped in front of me, meeting my eyes.

“Keys.” He held his hand out.

“What?”

“Your keys.”

I was reluctant to give him my keys, staring at him in confusion. Before I could say no, he’d reached and snatched them from my hand, tucking them in his coat pocket as he hurried to his truck.

“Hey!” I called out, now following him. “Why’d you take my keys?!”

He ignored my question, just climbing in the truck and waiting for me to do the same. I let out another irritated huff as I got into the truck with him, putting on my seatbelt in preparation for his usual horrendous and erratic driving. I flinched as he peeled out of the lot, planting my hand on the seat as we left the Navy Yard.

- - - - -

“…So.”

I hesitantly broke the silence as we headed down the road, curious as to where we were going.

“…Where are we going?”

Gibbs didn’t say a word, just keeping his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

“Gibbs, if you don’t say anything, I swear that I’ll roll out of this car.”

He glanced at me, opening his mouth to speak.

“I know we’re moving. That’s the point.”

We both stared at each other, him having a humored smile spread across his face as he met my eyes. I had a similar smile, but it definitely had more irritation than anything.

“Can’t ruin the surprise.”

“Gibbs—”

“Y/N, I’m not telling you.” He gave a short chuckle as he looked back to the road.

“…Fine.”

I sighed, leaning back against the seat and looking forward as well. We weren’t on the road any more than five minutes before we pulled up to the county fair. I didn’t say anything, knowing Gibbs likely wouldn’t give me a good response, no matter what I said. I sluggishly followed along, walking with him as he purchased two entry tickets, guiding me through the gate.

“North, West, East, or South?”

“What?” I did a double-take, not sure what he meant.

“Which direction?”

“Uh… North?”

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I yelped as he gently grabbed my wrist, hurriedly walking me in the direction I chose. It was such a rare sight to see. I thought I’d die before I ever saw Gibbs in an amusement park of all places. I’d never seen him smile so much in such a short period of time, nonetheless ever seeing him so excited for something.

He dragged me along, weaving through the other people with ease.

The first thing we arrived at was a roller coaster. It went up rather high, and from what I could see, it was one of the fastest rides in the park.

“Maybe we should go to a different one…?” I sheepishly spoke up, anxious about the ride.

“No turning back now.” He chuckled as he handed the attendant two tickets. I took a deep breath, letting out some nervous laughter as I followed him to the ride, the two of us getting into the cart.

- - - - -

“This is amazing!” I blurted out as we walked away from another ride. We’d been going from place to place, trying out all of the different rides, snacks, everything. It felt like we’d gone through the whole park in a matter of minutes.

“Thought you didn’t feel like going out tonight.”

Gibbs had a smile on his face as he watched me. The second I looked at him, something just… hit me. The look on his face, his eyes. He didn’t look like the usual cold, lone-wolf of a boss I’d always known. He looked so happy, peaceful.

“I mean, I just—” I gave him a gentle smile, “–I’m glad I didn’t go with the others. If I did, then we wouldn’t have come here. But still, I think being at home and watching movies or something is more my style.”

“I’m starting to think that I’m rubbing off on you.” Gibbs gave a short laugh as he mentioned his influence over me.

Once again, something seemed to hit me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, smiling that big, giddy grin.

Neither of us moved, just staring at each other with those smiles plastered across our faces. Our eyes were locked, gazes not breaking. It felt like something out of a movie. Despite all of the music and laughter in the background, distant screams of others going on those thrilling rides, groups laughing at each other’s bad photos in the photo booths, all I could hear was the sound of my heart pounding in my chest as it’s vibrant noise drowned everything else out.

“Gibbs—”

Before I could get the rest of the sentence out, he’d done exactly what I was thinking.

Gibbs had stepped forward, closing the distance between us as his arms wrapped around me, his hand cradling the back of my head. I tilted my head back as our lips crashed together so hard that our teeth knocked together.

His other arm hooked around the small of my back as we held each other, helplessly kissing each other.

It wasn’t long before he pulled away.

When he did, it felt like he’d sucked my soul out of me in that one moment, leaving a cold, empty feeling. I found myself being dragged off once again, his hand pressing into my back to rush me where he wanted to go. I didn’t get the chance to ask where we were going, too flustered as we hurried back to his truck. He swung the passenger door open, but before I could even get in, he’d swept me off my feet.

Gibbs lifted me into the truck, dropping me onto my back across the seat.

I got a smile across my face, both of us having the same idea.

Gibbs threw his jacket onto the floor of the truck, closing the door behind him.

I tried to get my pants off, but Gibbs beat me to it, yanking them down my legs with ease. He tossed my shoes and such onto the floor as well, crawling over me as he trailed kisses up my neck, meeting my lips again. He couldn’t get enough of me, one of his hands planted on the seat beside my head, the other cupping the side of my face as he loomed over me. I ran my fingers through his silver hair, resting my leg on his hip.

He pressed his knee between my thighs, inciting a small whine from me as he pulled his hand back to tug at his belt.

I watched as he had undone his belt and jeans, then meeting his eyes again. He smiled at me another time, leaning in as he started to kiss me once again, now heavier than before. His coarse hand met my thigh again, pulling my panties part of the way down my legs, quickly following it up with him pushing into me.

I let out a sharp gasp, my body trying to accommodate him.

He waited for a moment, giving me a bit of time to adjust before he started to move. As soon as I opened my mouth, his lips met mine. He’d silence every moan and whine with another kiss. His hips crashed against mine as he thrust into me again and again.

As much as I wanted to have a long, sensual night with Gibbs, I knew we needed to be quick if we didn’t want to get caught.

He grew to a fast pace, the sound of panting and skin clashing together filling the silent car. The windows were slightly fogged, his fingers digging into my hip.

I couldn’t stifle the moans that erupted from my throat, my heart pounding.

Gibbs straightened his back, both of his hands on my hips as he looked down at me with that smirk still on his face. He was panting as he spoke.

“I need you to be quiet if we don’t want to get caught.”

I reluctantly nodded, taking a deep breath as I desperately tried to keep it down, gripping the seat, my other hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Y-Yes, sir…!”

He shook his head, “What’ve I told you about calling me sir?”

“G-Got it, B-Boss…!” I gave him a sly grin as I corrected himself. He smiled down at me as he got rougher, trying to hurry up. The amusement park was closing soon and people would be heading to their cars any second.

I could tell he was getting close considering how heavy his breathing had gotten, his thrusts now faster and more erratic. He could tell I was close too as my legs were trembling around him, the ability to stifle my moans and whines was wavering. His fingers dug into me once again as he slammed into me one last time, letting out a deep groan as he emptied himself into me. I did the same, throwing a hand over my mouth as I groaned, bucking my hips a bit as I came.

As soon as we got close to getting our composure back, we heard groups of people leaving the park. We both scrambled to get our clothes back on, Gibbs peeling out of the parking lot.

We rode in silence for a few minutes before he finally slowed down, glancing at me as we went down the road. I met his gaze, the two of us just staring at each other for a few seconds before we burst into laughter. Big smiles spread across our faces as I reached over, placing my hand over his.

“We cannot tell DiNozzo.”

“One thing we can agree on.” Gibbs chuckled, squeezing my hand.

[throwawaywriting]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | This is Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 Warnings: smut, 18+, unprotected sex

Tags: @alesaab @simpforcrimeshows @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @fanf1ctionwrit1n

Now, you climbed the attic stairs with Benny right behind you. He would go back and forth between the two of you until everyone was in bed.  You clicked on your easel light before shrugging on one of Jethro’s threadbare button-up shirts and pouring some paint onto a palette. With a heavy sigh, you stared at the partially started canvas in front of you, trying to decide what you wanted to do next.  A shrill ring broke your concentration and you grunted in displeasure when you saw it was Assistant Director Arthur.  “Dr. Y/N,” you answered.  “Congratulations on the success of your operation this evening,” Wanda wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and you weren’t one to extend a conversation.  “Thank you ma’am,” you replied tersely.  “The director wants you on the next flight to New York so you can be on hand as agents process Beaufort’s penthouse.” “Yes, ma’am.” Inwardly, you groaned at the prospect of leaving when Jethro was still a little upset. “If the Gardner paintings are there, you’ll accompany them back to Boston.” “And if they aren’t?” Your stomach tightened into a knot.  “You’ll be on the first flight to wherever you think they are and continue until all are acquired. The rest of your team will meet you at Dulles.” “Yes ma’am,” you chewed on your lower lip.  “I expect a status report by noon,” and with that, she hung up. 

After packing your suitcase and changing into appropriate work clothes, you once again descended the stairs.  “Hey I was just com—“ Jethro started talking before turning to see you were fully dressed.  “The director wants me in New York ASAP to keep moving on the Gardner lead,” you shrugged, taking note of the disappointed look in his eyes.  “Oh,” he said, nodding, “right.” An awkward silence fell between the two of you.  “That's why you made rule 12, isn’t it?” You asked, referring to the undercover work that caused an instant shift in your relationship. Finally, Jethro cracked a smile.  “Yeah, yeah more or less,” he nodded and wiped his hands on a towel, which just so happened to be one of the new ones you had bought before Harper’s party. You smiled, wanting to be irritated but finding the innocence of his actions to be far too amusing.  “How long ya gonna be gone for?” He sighed and moved closer to you, opening his arms so you could step in for a hug. You accepted his gesture but shrugged at the question, “depends what we find in New York. We might have to go to his other properties.” He grunted and kissed the top of your head, squeezing you tightly, “I love you.” You hummed, lifting your head off his chest to kiss him, “I love you too.” This time, he seized the chance to pull your hips flush into his. “Jethro,” you whined, “I have a flight to catch.” “Mmm, but you’re a federal agent,” he murmured as he began to kiss your exposed neck. “I am,” you dragged out, not totally willing to break out of his embrace, “but my team is going to be waiting for me.” “But aren’t you the boss?” Now he began unbuttoning your shirt, his breath skimming over your collarbone.  You tried so hard to swallow your moan. You tried so hard to justify why you could not possibly stay for an early morning tryst. You tried so hard to keep the butterflies from building in your stomach. And you failed.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you whispered as you shed your blouse before he picked you up and laid you down on the platform supporting his boat. “Look at that view,” he muttered, causing you to blush and turn away for a moment as he kissed from your neck to your breasts. “You’re going to leave marks!” You exclaimed as his lips tugged your skin while they made their way down your abdomen. “Good,” he responded, not even glancing up at you while he continued kissing your body as he unbuttoned and discarded your pants.  “Unbelievable,” you said with a playful eye roll, watching as Jethro stepped out of his jeans and slid his boxers down.  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” his face hovered over yours as he slipped a finger, then two, inside of you. “Depending on how long I’m gone, I might need one,” you smirked as a devilish smile crossed his face.  “Ready?” His fingers were easily pumping in and out of you, a sure sign he could enter at any time. You swallowed thickly and nodded, eager to experience the pleasant tension caused by his initial thrust. “Jethro,” you moaned when he pushed into you, your fingers digging into his back. The tip of his nose touched yours as he continued to build speed.  “Harder,” you whined, grabbing onto the joists overhead to keep yourself stationary so he could fuck you harder and harder.  “Oh my god,” you moaned and he pinned your hips down to intensify the friction building between your legs.  “Y/N,” he grunted in warning to let you know he was close. You moaned again, letting the toe-curling sensation overtake your body as you wrapped your legs around his waist before he pushed into you for the final time.  Jethro kissed his way up your abdomen to your lips, making sure to leave a few more marks in his wake.  “I’ll expect an even better welcome home,” you teased, smiling when his lips finally pressed yours.  He chuckled, “I’ll deliver,” and kissed you one last time before rising to his full height and tugging his clothes back on. 

When you were dressed once again, he pulled you into another hug, burying his face into your neck, “be safe,” he murmured.  “You too,” you whispered back before kissing along his jaw to reach his lips. Jethro walked you to your car, and with one final peck, you were on your way to the airport. 

Agents Marcus Reyes and Daniel Montrose were waiting for you at the departing gate. “Worried you weren’t gonna make it, doc,” Marcus teased. You and he were in the same doctorate program and joined the FBI together. He and his partner, Allen, were two of the twelve people at your wedding.  You only hummed in response, shooting him an irritated look as you tucked your badge back into your jacket pocket.  “Boss,” Montrose nodded at you before returning his focus to his phone. When he was sure Montrose wasn’t paying attention, Marcus leaned in to whisper, “Y/N, you have sawdust in your hair.” You jerked out of the interaction, eyes wide and cheeks bright pink, casually brushing your fingers through the back of your head. Marcus bit back a smile as he nodded to confirm you had removed the evidence of your pre-flight quickie. You were absolutely sure Jethro saw it before you left and you were absolutely sure he would chuckle when you told him you made it to the airport, through security, and to your gate before noticing. 

Jethro was starting to get anxious, you could hear it in his voice. You had never been fully separated by a work assignment for longer than a week, and your current expedition was pushing almost three.  “Jethro, is everything okay?” You asked on your nightly phone call. You were stretched out in bed, a lamp-lit Rome peeking through the balcony doors. This was a little over halfway through the anticipated itinerary and you were hoping to be home within another week, with Malta, Abu Dhabi, and St. Petersburg the remaining cities on your list. A sigh through the phone was your answer: no, everything was not okay.  “I’ll be home before you know it,” you cooed, trying to ease your husband’s worries.  “It’s not that,” Jethro responded, “well it kind of is,” he sighed again.  “Is it a case?” You prompted after he fell silent.  “Yeah, yeah, it’s a murder case.” “And you don’t know who did it?” “No, we know who it is. But his kid,” Jethro’s voice cracked a bit, sending deep pangs of empathy through your chest, “his kid said his dad was just trying to do the right thing.” You hummed, “how so?” Even though you couldn’t see him, you knew Jethro waved his hand as he scoffed, “he was involved in stealing intelligence and when he decided he wanted out,” Jethro took a deep breath, “anyway. He said it was self defense.” You hummed again, “what does that gut of yours say?” Jethro grunted, “it doesn’t think as straight when you’re gone.” “Leroy Jethro Gibbs, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you smiled as he finally chuckled.  “You’re getting ready for bed?” He asked, realizing it was almost nine in Rome.  “Yeah, what are you doing?” “Just in the basement. Benny says hi,” he glanced at the dog laying at the bottom of the stairs.  “Give him a kiss for me.” “Always do. I love you, Y/N,” you could tell he was exhausted, and lonely.  “I love you, Jethro. I’ll be home soon.”