Just4fun

Actual story content of this blog:

NCIS: NOLA - 1 story

NCIS (Gibbs) - 102 stories

POI - 1 story

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Alternative Masterlist

Here you will find a listing of all the stories I've written to date.

When you click on the name of a story you'll get to a post with the plot and the links to the chapters of this story.

Masterlists of my stories:

Direct links to all of my stories (in progress and finished) - Part 4

Direct links to all of my stories (finished) - Part 3

Direct links to all of my stories (finished) - Part 2

Direct links to all of my stories (finished) - Part 1

Masterlists of the plots with the stories:

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Short plots and links to my stories (finished) - Part 3

Short plots and links to my stories (finished) - Part 2

Short plots and links to my stories (finished) - Part 1

Fandom: POI (Person of Interest)

Pairing: none

View: Reader's POV

Warnings: some violence

The hum of the servers in the secure hideout - the old library - was the only sound cutting through the oppressive silence. Harold Finch paced nervously in front of his monitors, his hands clasped behind his back. Deep furrows creased his brow.

"He’s been offline for exactly thirty-six hours," Finch said without looking at me. His voice trembled slightly. "Arthur isn't a man of many words, but he’s as punctual as Swiss clockwork. If he says he’ll check in after the server migration, he does. Unless someone stopped him."

I leaned against the edge of the heavy oak table, arms crossed, gazing at the photo on the monitor. An older gentleman with glasses and a friendly, albeit slightly shy, smile. Arthur Clay. A brilliant cryptologist and an old college friend of Finch’s.

"And the Machine didn't spit out his number?" I asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"No," a deep, gravelly voice rang out from the shadows of the archway.

I turned around. John Reese stepped into the soft glow of the desk lamps. As always, he wore his perfectly tailored dark suit, his white shirt unbuttoned slightly at the collar. His eyes - alert and inscrutable - held mine a moment too long before he looked away. A shiver ran down my spine - that familiar, nervous tingle that washed over me every time he entered the room.

"Maybe the Machine thinks Arthur can handle this on his own," Reese added, sliding a magazine into his SIG Sauer. The metallic *clack* echoed through the room. "Or maybe Finch is just afraid of losing someone." 

“That’s not funny, Mr. Reese,” Finch said, sounding piqued. “Arthur was working on a new encryption protocol. If that falls into the wrong hands...”

“...then we’ve got a problem,” I finished. I walked over to my gear on the table and checked my own weapon. “I’m heading to his apartment on the Upper West Side. Let’s see if he just forgot to reboot the router.”

“You aren’t going alone,” Reese said, stepping close enough that I could smell the subtle scent of leather and expensive aftershave. He glanced down at my gun and raised an eyebrow. “A .38? Cute. Try not to hurt anyone - especially yourself.”

I looked up at him; my heart was racing a fraction faster, but I didn’t let it show. I gave him my sweetest, most venomous smile. “Don’t worry, cowboy. If I shoot someone, I hit the bullseye. So you can count yourself lucky that we’re on the same side.”

A tiny, almost imperceptible trace of amusement flickered at the corners of his mouth. “Good to know. Finch, we’re on our way. Stick to your tea and try not to hack the entire Pentagon while we’re gone.”

“Just come back safe. And bring Arthur with you,” Finch called out as we headed up the stairs toward the exit.

It was pouring rain outside. New York in the nighttime rain was a sea of blurred lights and glistening asphalt. Reese held the passenger door of his dark Mustang open for me - an old-school gesture that seemed completely at odds with the cold-blooded killer he’d once been.

“After you,” he murmured. “Thanks. And here I thought manners were the first thing you lose at the CIA,” I teased as I slid inside.

Reese got in on the driver’s side and started the engine. It roared powerfully to life while he glanced sideways at me. In the pale light of the streetlamps, his features looked carved from stone, yet there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “What you learn there, above all, is how to survive in the rain. And how to transport troublesome passengers in the trunk.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Reese?” I leaned closer to him; the air between us suddenly crackled with electricity.

“Just a piece of friendly advice,” he replied softly. His voice was a deep vibrato that sent shivers straight under my skin. He shifted gears, and the car shot out into the rainy night.

Arthur’s apartment was in chaos. Reese picked the lock with frightening ease - in under five seconds - and as we stepped inside, the scene revealed signs of a fight. Books lay scattered across the carpet, a coffee table was overturned, and the desktop computer on the desk had been expertly gutted. The hard drives were missing.

“There definitely weren’t any network issues here,” I noted, moving cautiously through the room with my weapon at the ready. I bent down and picked something up: a small, shattered glass cylinder. “Looks like it came from a medical ampoule.”

Reese stepped up behind me - so close that I could feel his body heat. He took the glass from my hand; his fingers brushed briefly against mine, and an electric jolt seemed to shoot through my veins. He turned the glass in the light.

"Succinylcholine," he noted. "A muscle relaxant. Fast-acting. Someone wanted Arthur alive and without making a scene."

"How do you know that for sure?" I asked, studying him closely.

"I used it once while on vacation in Bogotá," he said with a completely deadpan expression. "The room amenities there were terrible."

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. "You're impossible."

"Finch always says the same thing." He glanced around the room, then suddenly fixed his gaze on the window leading to the fire escape. "We aren't alone."

Before I could react, the window glass shattered. A flashbang grenade flew into the room.

"Get down!" Reese shouted. He grabbed me by the waist, pulled me to the floor, and shielded me with his body - just as the grenade detonated with a deafening bang and a blinding white flash.

(To be continued in Chapter 2.)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

View: Gibbs's POV

Warnings: none

We didn't talk about that incident and tried our best to ignore it. I tried to convince myself that this was for the best. Especially to protect you. From me. An old, stubborn Marine who had seen too much in his life and was too broken for someone like you.

I pushed you away with all my might, even though every fiber of my being screamed at me to pull you into my arms and never let go. Rule Number 12? A pretext. Nothing more than a farce, because I had long since wanted more - something deeper.

Probably more than you intended to give me. Yet it was what I longed for so deeply. Your kisses tasted of a whole world of hope, and your body pressed firmly against mine - thoughts I preferred to dwell on only during the countless nights I spent thinking of you instead of sleeping.

It was a Thursday morning, in the middle of a grueling witness interrogation that we constantly had to pause. The air in the bullpen was thick with fatigue, as usual. I had just returned from Abby’s lab and was heading toward my desk when I noticed Tony glancing back and forth - conspicuously inconspicuously - between his monitor and your desk. He was squinting, as if trying to solve a highly complex puzzle.

There was a steaming mug on your desk, and one on mine, too. The only problem was: my mug was the white ceramic one with the NCIS logo - the one you usually used for your sweet tea. And in front of you sat my paper cup from my favorite coffee shop, filled to the brim with pitch-black, bitter coffee. At the sight of it, a faint smile inevitably crept onto my lips; it gave me a sense of "us." Us. Like... us and our little big secret.

But, of course, that didn't go unnoticed. "Boss..." Tony began in a slow, suspicious drawl, leaning over the partition beside his desk. "Not to say anything, but either McGee secretly swapped the coffee beans for sleeping pills, or the universe has gone off the rails. Since when do you drink from cups that smell like jasmine?"

You didn't even look up from your report, though I saw your fingers tense on the keyboard for a brief moment.

"It’s called efficiency, DiNozzo. Gibbs got my tea, and I got his coffee. And since we’re both adults living in the same century, we can drink from whatever cups we please."

"Oh, really?" Tony pressed, a broad, suggestive grin playing on his lips. "Then why did the Boss leave his thumbprint right where you’re about to take a sip? It’s clearly visible. And why does the Boss look like he’s in a better mood than usual this morning?"

I stepped up behind Tony, grabbed my coffee cup from your desk, and wordlessly swapped it for the white mug. I gave Tony such an icy glare that his grin froze instantly.

"DiNozzo."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Don't you have work to do?"

"I do, Boss. Tons of it. I’m on it."

He slumped back into his chair but shot Ziva a meaningful look that spoke volumes. You and I locked eyes for a split second - a silent exchange of panic and a desperate determination to keep up appearances.

We were saved - for the moment. The truth, however, was quite different. The truth was that you had fetched me a coffee. But as you went to set it down on my desk, you were so distracted that you mixed up the cups. And I was the reason for that distraction. For our eyes met and became inextricably intertwined - so much so that I, too, failed to notice the mix-up.

By tacit agreement, we continued to avoid each other - as much as was possible. And it was agony. Every single day, every single hour. We exchanged glances that said it all. Yet our lips remained sealed.

Eventually, another three weeks passed. Three weeks in which we circled each other like two predators who knew exactly where the trap was set but kept sniffing the bait anyway. We denied it. Consistently. Whenever Vance or DiNozzo gave us suggestive looks, I’d counter with a venomous glare, and you with a sarcastic remark about the IQ of agents in general.

But reality kept catching up with us. Time and again.

One evening, we were sitting in the Dodge on the way back from interviewing a witness in Baltimore. It was pouring rain. The windshield wipers lashed against the glass in a hypnotic rhythm, and the dashboard’s dim light cast soft shadows across your face. You should have been asleep, but instead, you stared fixedly out the side window into the blackness of the night. There was nothing to see outside, which made it seem almost as if you wanted to look anywhere - except at me.

My hand rested on the gearshift, just a few centimeters from your knee. Every fiber of my body screamed to move my hand, to grasp your fingers and banish the cold that had settled between us. I felt your gaze drift briefly to my hand - hesitant, full of longing - before you turned away again.

“You’re driving too fast,” you said softly, without looking at me.

“I always drive like this.”

“It’s a miracle we’re still alive. Just like with everything else you do. Pure sabotage of your own safety,” you murmured, and it was clear you weren’t talking about the car.

You longed for the tenderness of our kisses, for that moment when the world stood still. I could sense it in the way your breathing changed whenever my arm moved. Because I felt the same way. I, too, longed to hold you in my arms again. But I couldn’t let you see that.

“If you don’t like it, you can get out,” I retorted, even though the thought made my heart race and I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn’t want to let you go. Never. But that lie was the only armor we had.

“And enjoy the rain? Tempting, Gibbs. But I’d rather stay here and suffer in silence,” you replied, and the soft, sad smile in your voice made my heart nearly stop.

(To be continued in Chapter 4.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

View: Gibbs's POV

Warnings: none

Over the next few days, we stayed out of each other’s way - as best we could. I tried to focus on my work, but my thoughts kept drifting back to you. It was endlessly frustrating.

I could feel your gaze wandering toward me again and again. But I ignored it. You tried not to let it show, yet your eyes betrayed how you were really feeling. They revealed your hurt - and your longing, which was just as bad.

Bad, because it mirrored my own longing. Every time I looked at you, I wanted to pull you into my arms and kiss you senseless. My hands tingled with the desire to feel your soft skin and run my fingers gently over it.

But no. That was a bad idea. Our kiss had been a slip-up - something that happened only because we were completely exhausted. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. But with every passing hour, it became harder to maintain the distance between us.

It was two days after that memorable night at the office. The whole team was heading to a crime scene in Quantico, but I’d kept you back to review the victim’s digital evidence. I was standing by the conference room window, staring down at the parking lot while my hand mechanically turned my coffee cup.

When the door clicked softly shut, I didn’t turn around. I knew who was standing there just by the sound of your breathing. You placed a folder on the table - the movement a shade too abrupt.

"The victim’s call logs. Nothing unusual, Gibbs. Except for the fact that he spoke to a shell company three times."

"Good. Stay on it," I replied, my voice as flat and businesslike as I could manage. You remained standing by the table, fingers digging into the edge of the folder. The air in the room was heavy with the thing we both wished had never happened.

"Gibbs? About... the day before yesterday."

I turned slowly and fixed you with my coldest stare. "There’s nothing to discuss. We were tired."

A short, bitter laugh escaped you. "Right. Completely exhausted. Good thing we analyzed that scientifically. It was practically a collective momentary lapse in judgment."

You crossed your arms, but I saw the telltale tremor in your shoulders. You were longing for a different answer - it was written all over your face - and my chest tightened. I wanted to overturn the table, bridge the distance, and cup that proud, wounded face in my hands. Instead... I took a sip of coffee.

"Are you working, or just philosophizing?" I asked dryly.

"I'm going, Boss," you said, and the word "Boss" cut through the air with a sarcastic edge that hit me harder than any bullet.

A week later, we received a valuable tip-off regarding the arms smugglers' hideout and the whereabouts of the suspect and his accomplices.

The raid at the Norfolk docks didn't go according to plan; it descended into chaos. Shots were fired, shipping containers were riddled with holes, and for two agonizing minutes, I lost sight of you amidst the thick fog and the wail of sirens.

When the operation was over and the suspects were being led away in handcuffs, I found you behind one of the shipping containers. You were leaning there, rifle still raised, your face pale and streaked with soot.

I didn't walk toward you - I rushed. Before you could utter a single sarcastic word about my haste, I holstered my weapon, grabbed you by the hips, and hauled you against me.

That kiss was devoid of all restraint. It was pure, unfiltered survival instinct. I pressed my lips to yours with a burning passion that stole the breath from us both. It was sheer relief to feel you alive.

My tongue demanded entry, and you parted your lips with a deep, ragged gasp. Your hands clawed at the material of my tactical vest, pulling me so close that the hard gear dug painfully between us - yet not for a second did we break apart.

The kiss was wild, hot, and deep, driven by the raw fear of having lost you. Every movement of our lips was a greedy devouring of the other, until we finally pulled away - trembling and utterly intoxicated - our foreheads pressed firmly together.

But that singular moment, where we gave free rein to our true feelings, was over far too soon. Breathing heavily, we broke the embrace, looked deep into each other’s eyes, and then… I turned and walked away.

(To be continued in Chapter 3.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: smut, +18 readers only!! 🔥🥵

With a violent jerk, he turned me onto my side and pulled my leg up. When he thrust into me again, the angle was so steep that my body reacted instantly. An orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave; helplessly, my inner walls clenched around him in uncontrollable ripples.

That drove him completely out of his mind. He gripped my hips with an iron hold, thrust hard a few more times, and - with a deep, guttural cry - spilled himself into my very core in hot, pulsing spurts.

We lay there panting, our bodies slick with sweat and trembling. But the sexual frenzy, the raw passion, was now giving way to a completely different, far deeper intensity.

Gibbs didn’t pull away. He remained deep inside me, feeling the intense, pulsating aftershocks of my body. He breathed heavily against my ear, his heart pounding wildly against my chest.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes. There was no anger left. No fear. His steel-blue eyes swam with a boundless, surrendering tenderness that shook me to my very core.

He kissed me again, but this time the kiss held none of the animalistic hunger from before. It was an infinitely gentle, deep kiss that tasted of finally coming home.

His lips moved softly and gently against mine, parting them and caressing my tongue with a tender slowness that brought tears to my eyes. He pulled me closer. His large, rough hands framed my face, fingers buried deep in my hair as if to bind me to him completely, while his thumbs wiped the salty traces of my relief from my cheeks.

"I’m not letting you go again," he whispered against my lips, so softly it sounded like a sacred vow. "Never again - do you hear me?”

He slid out and withdrew from me, only to gently roll me onto my back the next moment. My legs parted of their own accord to make room for him. He settled over me and entered me again with a gentleness that stole my breath away. His movements now followed a completely different rhythm - it was the start of an agonizingly slow, profoundly deep, and tender act of love.

His hips moved in a circular, swaying motion, guiding his hard length deep inside me to glide against my most sensitive nerve endings. The moist, soft sounds of our bodies meeting filled the room, as we both otherwise lay perfectly still, lost in each other's eyes.

Each gentle thrust was like a silent plea for forgiveness. Every time he sank deep inside me, he would moan a soft, trembling "Yes..." against my neck while his lips caressed my skin.

He kissed my collarbone, gently sucked at the pulse point in my neck, and then moved down to my breasts, cupping them in his hands with an almost reverent tenderness. He enclosed one of my hardened nipples with his lips - no longer sucking hard, but tracing gentle circles over it with the tip of his tongue - until I trembled beneath him from the sweet ache.

He was propped up on his forearms above me. I arched my back, lifted my hips off the mattress, and pressed myself fully against him, hungry to feel every single millimeter. My legs wrapped tightly around his hips to pull his hard, muscular body even closer to mine.

“Jethro… oh God, Jethro… it feels so good,” I breathed, as a new, warm wave of arousal flooded through me.

He smiled - a genuine, easy smile full of tenderness that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Instead of speeding up, he did the opposite, savoring every fraction of that rhythm. He withdrew almost completely, only to plunge back deep inside me the next moment with a gentle, unstoppable force. The sensation of his sheer size massaging me from the inside out was so overwhelming it left me speechless.

We moved as if in a trance, perfectly in sync, connected by an invisible bond that no walls could divide. His skin slid against mine, hot and slick with our sweat. He reached for my hands, interlaced his fingers tightly with mine, and pressed our palms down into the mattress.

The intensity began to build again, but it was no longer dark or destructive. It was bright, pure, and charged with raw emotion. I felt everything tightening deep in my belly—a sweet, burning sensation that made me tremble. Gibbs noticed; his breathing grew shallow again, and he looked deep into my eyes as he took me, slowly and deeply.

"Come for me,” he murmured, his voice a deep vibration that resonated right through my core. “Look at me and come.”

I held his gaze. As my body began to tremble, I practically melted beneath him. My inner muscles clung to his length in infinitely sweet, rhythmic pulses. That sensation finally shattered his control, too. His features tightened, and a long, deep, liberated groan escaped his throat as he sank into me one last time - as deeply as humanly possible. He paused, his whole body trembling, as he spilled himself deep inside me in gentle, warm waves.

We lay like that for a long time. He didn’t roll off me; instead, he shifted his weight so as not to crush me, yet still enveloped me completely with his body. His lips rested against my forehead, and his arms held me tight, as if I were his most precious possession.

“I love you,” he murmured into my hair - the first time he had spoken those words without anger, despair, or fear. It was the pure truth. “God help me, I love you with all my heart.”

I buried my face against his chest, listening to the steady, calm rhythm of his heart, and whispered back, “I love you too, Jethro. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Months later, we sat together on the porch of his house. The boat in the basement was nearly finished - and this time, we weren’t building it to numb the pain or banish ghosts, but to set sail in it together someday.

Any initial awkwardness within the MCRT team had long since vanished. DiNozzo might still occasionally get a playful smack on the back of the head for making a sarcastic remark about our private lives, but Gibbs smiled more often now. His gruff, sarcastic manner remained, yet whenever he looked at me across the office, there was a warm, protective glint in his blue eyes - one meant only for me.

His walls were gone for good. We had learned that you don’t have to forget the past to have a future - you just have to find someone strong enough to clear away the wreckage with you. And as he held me close, I felt that he had finally found that person in me.

The End

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

View: Gibbs's POV

Warnings: none

NCIS headquarters was a strange place at two in the morning. The unforgiving fluorescent light cut through the darkness, and the only sound was the hum of the air conditioning - and the occasional, angry clatter of a keyboard. My keyboard. I stared at the screen while the coffee in my mug dropped to the temperature of liquid nitrogen.

Files. Miles of files on an arms smuggler who had been leading us on a wild-goose chase for three weeks. My eyes burned, and my mood had long since plummeted below zero.

"If you keep glaring at that monitor any longer, it’s going to burst into flames, Gibbs," a voice said from the darkness.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t have to. I recognized your footsteps, the soft rustle of your clothes, and that subtle scent of jasmine and rain - a fragrance that had absolutely no business being in the sterile, stale air of this office. You should have gone home hours ago. I had ordered you to. But of course, you had proven once again that my legendary death glare had a success rate of exactly zero percent with you.

“You should be in bed,” I growled, my voice rougher than usual.

“And leave you - with that charming personality of yours - to mope all by yourself? Not a chance,” you replied, setting a fresh, steaming cup of coffee on my desk. Black coffee. Just the way I like it.

I looked up. You were standing right beside my chair, your hair slightly tousled, the sleeves of your blouse rolled up. There was a tiny smudge of ink on your cheek. You looked tired, yet your eyes held that unwavering, maddening determination that had fascinated me from day one.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said, reaching for the cup.

“True. Babysitters get paid to be nice. I’m doing this out of pure masochism.”

You leaned against the edge of my desk - far too close. The space between us shrank to mere centimeters, and I could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“You’re stubborn,” I said.

“You’re an insufferable grouch. A perfect team.” You smiled, but the smile faded when our eyes met.

There it was again. That invisible bond that had been stretching between us over the past few months. A crackling, almost palpable tension that surfaced whenever we spent too long in the same room. It was playing with fire, and we both knew it. But that evening - that damned night - my defenses were simply too exhausted.

I stood up. Slowly. I towered over you, but you didn’t back away an inch, and your breathing quickened. Your gaze dropped to my lips—only for a split second, but I noticed. My self-control, usually made of solid titanium, shattered.

“You talk too much,” I murmured.

Before my mind could intervene and remind me of all the reasons why this was a disastrous idea, my body took over. I took a step forward, closing the last bit of distance, and placed my hand against your cheek. The pad of my thumb brushed over your skin, which felt incredibly soft. You held your breath.

And then I kissed you.

It wasn’t a stormy, demanding kiss, but an unexpected, almost painfully tender touch. My lips met yours with a gentleness I would hardly have thought myself capable of. And in that same instant, something exploded inside me - a warm, bright feeling that instantly banished all the gloom of the past few years. A barely audible moan escaped you as your hands found their way to my chest and clutched at my shirt, as if seeking an anchor.

The kiss deepened without losing its tenderness. It was a slow process of discovery, a silent confession neither of us would have dared to voice aloud. Your lips tasted of the sweet tea you’d had earlier - and of pure life.

When I finally pulled away slowly, our lips remained so close that the air between us crackled with unspoken words. We could feel each other’s gentle warmth like a promise, and it seemed as though time itself stood still - as if our lips were already demanding the next kiss from one another.

Your breathing was ragged, your cheeks flushed. Then I cleared my throat, pulled my hand back, and put my mask of the aloof investigator back on. “That... was a mistake. It was the exhaustion.”

You blinked and swallowed hard before taking a step back. A sarcastic, albeit slightly shaky, smile stole across your lips.

“Of course. A purely neurobiological short-circuit caused by acute caffeine deprivation. It happens to the best of us, Gibbs.”

“Fine. Then let’s forget about it.”

“Consider it forgotten,” you promised, yet your eyes spoke a completely different language.

(To be continued in Chapter 2.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: smut, hard sex, +18 readers only!!!

The next morning, I didn’t go to work. I couldn’t. I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling completely numb inside. I reached for the phone, called headquarters, and reported myself sick indefinitely. 

At NCIS, Gibbs received the news in silence. When DiNozzo mentioned that I had called in sick, Gibbs merely let out a gruff grunt. He demanded no details; he asked no questions. He knew exactly why I wasn't coming in.

In his mind - a mind consumed by guilt - he told himself that this was probably for the best for both of us. He had drawn the line. He had protected me by driving me away. At least, that’s how he rationalized it to himself.

But the days passed, and one week turned into two. My desk in the bullpen remained empty. No humming computer, no stacks of files, no familiar scent. Gibbs sat at his own desk, staring unwaveringly - with increasing frequency - at that empty chair.

Every time DiNozzo or McGee asked a question regarding my status, they were met with a look that could kill. Yet deep within Gibbs, the carefully constructed facade began to crumble. His supposed certainty that he had done the right thing gave way to a gnawing unease, and finally, to raw, consuming worry.

He missed me. It was no subtle longing; it was a physical ache that stole his breath away. He missed my banter, my laughter, the way I drank my coffee, and the memory of my soft skin beneath his rough fingers.

I, meanwhile, remained holed up in my apartment, feeling as though the walls were closing in on me. Yet the mere thought of having to face Gibbs at the office made my throat tighten with dread. I no longer dared to return there. I was afraid of his coldness - afraid of yet another rejection.

After exactly fourteen days, Gibbs couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his coffee mug onto his desk, grabbed his jacket, and walked wordlessly toward the elevator.

“Boss? Where are you going?” McGee called after him.

“To bring back an agent,” Gibbs growled before the doors slid shut.

It was late afternoon when a heavy pounding shook my apartment door. I knew immediately who it was, and my heart hammered in my throat as I opened the door.

There he stood, clad in his tactical jacket, his hair slightly windblown, his steel-blue eyes brimming with pent-up emotion. He looked exhausted.

“You’re AWOL, Probie,” he said. Though the words were those of a superior, his voice was husky, quiet, and utterly devoid of its usual sarcasm.“

“I’m sick, Gibbs,” I retorted defiantly, though my voice trembled.

I moved to close the door again, but he took a quick step forward, pushed his way into the hallway, and slammed the door shut behind him.

“You’re not sick,” he said, stepping so close to me that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You’re hiding. From me,” he finally whispered. As he spoke, his lips brushed against my ear, and his breath grazed my skin. My body grew even more acutely aware of his proximity, and only with great effort did I manage to stifle a moan.

Instead, I took a step back.

“You threw me out! You pushed me away!” 

I screamed at him, and the tears I had held back for two weeks finally broke free. 

"What do you want here, Gibbs? Do you want to tell me again just how much I’m ruining your life?"

Gibbs looked at me. The two weeks of separation, the staring at my empty desk, the agonizing certainty that he had nearly broken the woman he loved - all of it erupted in that single moment. His stoic composure exploded.

"I want you to stop calling me Gibbs," he murmured, closing the distance between us and gripping me by the hips.

Before I could answer, he pressed his mouth against mine. This kiss was unlike any before. It was driven by a desperate, painful longing - one that had nearly pushed us both out of our minds over the past two weeks.

His lips pressed against mine with an intensity that stole my breath away. His tongue demanded entry - wild and possessive - and I parted my lips with a loud moan to welcome him in.

We tasted the tears on my face as we tore the clothes from each other’s bodies. There was no hesitation left. His jacket hit the floor; my thin sweater was yanked over my head. Gibbs urged me backward down the hallway until the backs of my knees hit the edge of my bed, and we tumbled onto the mattress together - a tangle of bare skin, burning kisses, and greedy hands.

His rough palms traced the curve of my waist and hips, finally pushing my legs apart to make room for himself between them. We were naked, and his manhood pressed hot and hard against my thigh. It was massive, throbbing with a desire that had been building for two weeks.

"I missed you,” he confessed in a voice so raw and broken it tore at my heart. “Every damn day.”

Then he slid down my body, kissing his way across my stomach to my core, and looked up at me with an intense gaze filled with desire. He lowered his head and buried his face between my legs. His tongue stroked over my sensitive clit in long, wet sweeps. I cried out in ecstasy, digging my fingers into the sheets as his tongue worked with masterful skill. He drew my pearl into his mouth, cupped my hips to lift my pelvis, and drank my juices until I was trembling wildly, teetering on the brink of orgasm.

“Jethro, please… I need you inside me. Now!” I begged, completely intoxicated by desire.

He shifted over me, his blue eyes burning with dark lust. He draped my legs over his muscular shoulders, spreading me wide, and positioned his slick, scalding-hot head against my entrance. Without further delay, he buried himself completely inside me with one deep, powerful thrust.

A piercing cry escaped my lips as my tight walls clenched around his massive member. He stretched me to my absolute limit, penetrating so deep I thought he might touch my very soul. A deep, vibrating groan tore itself from Gibbs’s chest; he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the incredible tightness and heat of my depths.

Then he began to move. It was a rhythm of defiance against lost time - passionate, intense, almost brutal in its hunger. He withdrew almost completely from me, until only the tip remained inside, only to thunder back in with full force the very next moment.

The loud, wet slapping of our bodies filled the room. I wrapped my arms around his neck and bit into his shoulder to stifle my screams as he drove me further up the bed. Every single thrust struck my cervix, driving me deeper into a vortex of madness.

(To be continued in the last Chapter 4.)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Story: After a grueling case, you can't find any peace. You head to your boss, Gibbs, and the long-suppressed desire between the two of you erupts - with unforeseen consequences.

🔥🔥🥵🥵

Chapters: 4

Warnings: SMUT, hard sex, +18 readers only!!

Read chapter 1

Read chapter 2

Read chapter 3

Read chapter 4

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: smut, hard sex, +18 readers only!! 🥵🔥

“Jethro, please,” I whimpered, tears of overwhelming emotion welling up in my eyes.

He smiled faintly - a rare, tender sight - and knelt down between my legs.

He drew my knees up toward my shoulders, opening me completely to him, and slowly - centimeter by centimeter - slid back inside me. The sensation was so intense that I sobbed.

He rode me in the pale moonlight with a slow, deep intensity. Every thrust was pure surrender. He held my gaze the entire time, refusing to let me look away, as he drove me to the brink of madness - until, exhausted, drenched in sweat, and tightly entwined, we both fell asleep.

Morning brought back the cold. When I opened my eyes, Gibbs was already standing by the window—fully dressed, a coffee mug in his hand. The soft features of the night were gone. His walls were not merely rebuilt—they had been reinforced.

“You should go. We have a briefing with Vance in two hours,” he said, without looking at me. His voice was once again that of the unapproachable boss.

A cold shiver ran through me. The unease was palpable, thick as fog. “Gibbs… Jethro, about last night…”

"It was a mistake. The bourbon," he cut me off icily, his eyes fixed rigidly on the street. "Won't happen again, Probie.”

That stung. Humiliated and furious, I gathered my clothes and left the house. 

Over the next two weeks, we both tried to push what had happened to the back of our minds, but it was impossible. The air in the bullpen was electric. All Jethro had to do was look at me, and my pulse would race. Every time he handed me a file, I felt the spark.

The atmosphere between us grew more charged and volatile with each passing day. He snapped at me over trifles, and I snapped right back - until DiNozzo and McGee looked awkwardly at the floor.

It was inevitable. One evening, after everyone else had already left, I was searching the evidence room for a file. Gibbs walked in to retrieve the key, and the moment our eyes met, the pent-up tension exploded.

He slammed the door shut and, without a word, pinned me against the shelves. His lips sought mine in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was a desperate, passionate clash of lips and wills.

We bit each other’s lips, tasting blood and lust. I tugged at his hair; he pressed his hand against my buttocks with painful force. Yet no sooner had we broken apart, gasping for breath, than he roughly shoved me away.

"That was the last time," he hissed, breathing heavily, and left the room.

The next day, we both denied it with an icy silence.

Three days later, the ordeal ended in utter chaos. After work, I had driven back to his house - driven by an unbearable, aching longing that was consuming me from the inside out. I couldn't fight it any longer.

When I entered his basement, he looked at me and knew instantly why I was there. He threw down his tools, strode toward me, grabbed me by the collar of my jacket, and dragged me upstairs to the bedroom.

There was no foreplay, no sweet words. We tore the clothes from each other’s bodies—buttons popped off, fabric ripped. We were driven by an addiction that lay beyond all reason. He threw me onto the bed, climbed on after me, and ruthlessly forced my knees apart. He was already fully erect, the veins on his hard shaft standing in stark relief. Without lubricant, driven by raw lust, he thrust himself inside me with a single, violent plunge.

I sobbed aloud. “Oh my god…yessss!” My tight pussy gripped him like a vise, and he groaned in an agony of pleasure. It was wild, dirty sex, charged with frustration. Gibbs seized my hands, pinned them to the mattress above my head, and began to pound into me like a man possessed. His thrusts were so hard and merciless that the bed slammed violently against the wall.

"Damn it, you’re driving me insane," he hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed my hips and roughly flipped me onto my stomach.

He dropped to his knees behind me, hiked up my hips, and penetrated me again. The angle was so breathtakingly deep that his balls slapped against my labia with every thrust - a wet, rhythmic sound that left me completely dazed. 

He reached forward, grabbed my breasts, and yanked me hard against him as he took me without restraint. I arched my back and screamed my orgasm into the pillows, my body trembling under the force of his hard thrusts. Just seconds later, I felt him convulse deep inside me, flooding me with his hot cream.

But when it was over, the unexpected happened. Gibbs abruptly pulled out of me, sprang out of bed, and looked at me with an expression that seethed with rage, remorse, and pure pain. His hands were trembling violently.

“Get out!” he suddenly screamed, his voice nearly cracking.

I started up, shakily pulling the covers over my naked chest. “What? Jethro…”

“I said go to hell home!” he roared, the veins in his neck bulging dangerously.

He stepped up to the bed, and I reached out to touch him, but he roughly shoved my hand away.

“Don’t touch me! Do you hear me? I can’t do this! I destroy everyone I love! I buried my family; I buried Shannon! I won’t destroy you, too! Go! You’re my agent, damn it! Get out!”

It was a brutal, desperate act of self-destruction—a final attempt to protect me from himself by pushing me away, both emotionally and physically. But this time, something inside me snapped. The humiliation - the harshness in his voice and the shove - hit me like a physical blow.

Shaken, I sat there, my vision blurred with tears and breathing heavily. Then, without saying another word, I slid out of bed. My limbs trembled so violently that I struggled to gather my torn clothes from the floor.

Gibbs stood with his back to me, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. I pulled on my clothes, slipped into my shoes, and fled blindly from his house, out into the cold night.

(To be continued in Chapter 3.)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: smut, +18 readers only!! 🔥🥵

The scent of sawdust, epoxy resin, and old wood usually had a calming effect. But tonight, nothing was calming. The case - the mutilated body of the young Marine lieutenant, the sleep deprivation, the images seared into my retinas - kept me wide awake.

At three in the morning, I gave up, got into my car, and drove aimlessly through the streets. My destination was unknown. But when I arrived, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. For I stood in front of the boss’s house.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs’s basement door was, as always, unlocked. So I went inside and descended the wooden stairs. The rhythmic *shriiiiich* of a hand plane told me he was awake.

And sure enough, there stood Gibbs - clad in an old T-shirt - working on the mahogany hull, the muscles of his forearms taut beneath a thin layer of wood dust. He didn’t even look up as I reached the bottom step.

“The lieutenant won’t let you rest, huh, probie?” he asked. His voice was a rough, sarcastic rumble that felt like fine sandpaper scraping against my skin.

“The ghosts in my apartment were making too much noise,” I retorted, stepping up to the workbench and grabbing a sheet of sandpaper. “And I thought your boundless optimism might cheer me up.”

Gibbs froze mid-stroke. His steel-blue eyes locked onto me - intense and unfathomable.

“Optimism is for people who have no clue how the world works. Sand the stern.”

For hours, we worked in silence. The unspoken feelings that had hung between us like a charged storm cloud for months - every fleeting glance in the MTAC, every accidental touch at our desks - intensified in the close confines of the basement.

Around four in the morning, Gibbs set aside his plane, reached for a bottle of bourbon, and poured two glasses. He handed one to me.

"To the dead," he said softly.

"And to the living who don't know how to live," I added, and took a sip. The alcohol burned a path down to my stomach, loosening the knots in my chest and leaving behind a dangerous warmth.

Gibbs took a step closer. He smelled of sweat, bourbon, and that irresistible, distinctly masculine scent of his own.

"Do you think you know?" he challenged me, his lips twisted into a mocking smile.

"At least I know you can't drown your pain in a boatyard, Gibbs."

"Are you trying to analyze me right now? Dangerous territory, Probie."

"Maybe I like danger."

The glass slipped from my hand and landed with a clatter on the workbench. The bourbon was doing its work - the walls were swaying. Gibbs’s gaze locked onto my lips. His sarcastic facade began to crumble, revealing a raw, naked longing beneath.

"You're playing with fire," he murmured.

"Then burn me."

Gibbs let out a low groan, a deep, animalistic sound, and the very next moment, he was there. His hand shot out, buried itself in my hair, and tilted my head back - gently, yet firmly. Then, his lips pressed hard against mine.

That first kiss was like a hurricane. It tasted of sharp bourbon and months of pent-up frustration. His tongue demanded entry, claiming everything from me, and I gave it to him willingly. I parted my lips and was instantly conquered by him.

He pressed me backward against the unfinished boat hull, the rough wood scraping against my back. Gibbs grabbed the hem of my shirt; his rough palms burned against my bare skin as he ripped the fabric over my head in a single, violent motion.

He unclasped my bra with a practiced touch, freeing my breasts. His eyes dark with lust, he gazed at me for a moment before pressing his mouth against my nipple. He sucked at it hot and hard, drawing the sensitive bud deep into his mouth, while kneading my other breast with his rough hand until I threw my head back with a whimper.

“Gibbs…” I panted.

“Jethro,” he corrected in a raspy voice, as his hand slid down to the waistband of my pants. He undid the button, yanked down the zipper, and stripped both my pants and panties down my legs in one swift motion.

He lifted me effortlessly and set me down on the edge of the workbench, right amidst the wood shavings. My legs wrapped around his hips as if of their own accord. He unfastened his trousers, and his manhood sprang out at me - hot, thick, and throbbing. He slowly stroked the head of his cock up and down against my wet slit, tormenting me for agonizing seconds with that mere touch, until I lifted my hips in silent supplication.

Without another word, he drove himself deep inside me with a single, powerful thrust. I cried out. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way I had never been stretched before. Gibbs held my hips in an iron grip and began to move, establishing a fierce, relentless rhythm.

The sound of skin against skin - the wet slapping of our bodies - echoed through the basement. He withdrew almost completely from me, only to thrust back in the very next moment with even greater force, until he struck my cervix. A loud moan escaped my lips; my hands clawed at his muscular shoulders while his face remained buried in the crook of my neck.

The rhythm was relentless, driven by pure desire. My inner muscles clenched hot and tight around his shaft, finally driving him out of his mind. His thrusts grew faster, greedier, and I felt the wave building inside me until, at last, I exploded in a trembling release.

My walls pulsed violently around him. But that proved too much for his iron self-control. With a deep, rumbling growl, he thrust into me one last time - all the way to the hilt - and spilled himself in hot, thick surges.

But our longing was a beast that could not be sated with a single feeding. When we finally caught our breath and air returned to our lungs, he carried me upstairs to his bed. Once there, every trace of his earlier hardness melted away.

He laid me gently upon the sheets, settled himself over me, and kissed me with an infinite, exquisite tenderness. His lips moved softly against mine, exploring every contour, while his fingers slowly slid between my legs. He found my most sensitive spot and began to rub it in rhythm with his kisses. 

I writhed beneath him, moaning into his mouth, as he slid two fingers deep inside me and moved them in perfect sync with his thumb. I was so wet that his fingers slid effortlessly in and out of me, and the slick, wet sound they made drove me out of my mind.

(To be continued in Chapter 2.)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs

It is finished! Here comes the final chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. 😊❤️

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: pure fluff

After Pride and Franks had led Jenny away and Jimmy had received medical attention, things slowly began to settle down again. 

Everyone’s greatest concern was for you, since you were pregnant. Yet you were the most composed of them all - aside from the lingering shock of having just narrowly escaped death.

Jethro put his arm around you and asked gently, “Are you really okay? Shouldn’t the doctor take a look at you, just to be sure?”

His concern felt incredibly reassuring, and you snuggled into his arms. But it was more out of love for him than a need for comfort. You sighed.

“It’s all over. I’ve been expecting her to launch a major retaliatory strike this whole time. But it's done now, and we don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

He smiled proudly and kissed you tenderly. "My brave darling," he whispered to you.

You gazed at him lovingly, about to say something in return, when the judge approached you.

"After these events, would you prefer to postpone the wedding?" he asked cautiously.

Both he and Gibbs looked at you expectantly, wanting to leave the decision up to you. And you were absolutely certain of your choice.

"It won't be postponed. I want to marry this man already.”

With that, you playfully punched Jethro in the shoulder, and he nearly burst out laughing. And it was precisely this uncharacteristic, infectious laughter that lifted the spirits of the wedding party.

"But..." you continued, "I want to wait until Mike and Dwayne are back. I want them to be there when we exchange our vows."

"Of course, my love." He kissed the top of your head. "Should I—"

"You’d better get down to the altar, probie!"

"Yes! The woman has waited long enough for you!!”

Cheers erupted, and Abby - closely followed by you - ran toward the returnees. You nearly squeezed the air out of Mike and Dwayne with your embrace, but it simply had to be done. They were the undisputed heroes of the day. 

“Should I leave you two alone for a while?” Gibbs grumbled from the altar, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

“Are you afraid we’ll elope?” Dwayne quipped, thoroughly amused by Gibbs’s stern glare. He gently disentangled himself from your embrace and led you to the altar, where Jethro immediately took your hand - never to let go again. 

“Since we were already at this point anyway, we might as well just pick up right where we left off,” the judge suggested.

Solemnly, he asked: 

“Do you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, take Y/N Y/L/N, here present, to be your lawfully wedded wife? And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Leroy Jethro Gibbs, here present, to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

You stood facing one another, gazing deep into each other’s eyes, and - as if speaking with one voice - you answered loud and clear: 

"YES!" 

Silence. Your hearts nearly leaped from your chests with excitement, and then:

"I hereby pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride.”

Gibbs didn't need to be told twice. He grinned, buried his hands in your hair, and kissed you - tenderly, passionately, deeply, and intensely. 

Gibbs: "I love you so much."

You: "I love you even more."

You felt as though you were floating on clouds. 

It was the most intimate kiss the judge had ever witnessed. Tears welled up in his eyes and those of the three women, while the men began to whistle.

You kissed again and again, but your friends showed no mercy and demanded their right to congratulate you. The garden was filled with laughter and joy, and you were constantly being hugged. Gibbs would surely have bruises the next day, because the somewhat battered-looking Franks and Dwayne kept patting him on the back in appreciation. 

All in all, it was a wedding typical of NCIS - yet your happiness outshone everything else. Your wedding night could not have been more beautiful. The entire house was adorned with hearts and flowers, and you made love all through the night. Finally, you were one. Together. A family. And at long last, you could show each other your love - without barriers, without restraint, without doubt. Openly, honestly, and full of confidence in your shared future.

Yet, much to your surprise, you would not remain the only couple within this circle of friends; for - as quickly became apparent - Mike and Rachel hit it off perfectly and began dating shortly after your wedding.

Despite his deep reluctance to take the job, Gibbs became the new Director of NCIS. His very first official act was to decree that he would continue working on cases as an investigator. However, he left the dangerous missions to (the now) Tony's team, as he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

To ensure that no harm could come to you, he transferred you to the research department. You actually quite liked it there, as it allowed you to drop by your husband's office from time to time for an "exchange of information." 

By now, you had become friends with Elaine. She visited you privately every so often and helped you design the nursery - which wasn't exactly Jethro's favorite pastime. Nevertheless, he willingly carried out every task you two had planned.

And a few months later, the moment finally arrived. Your twins came into the world, and the excitement and joy were immense.

They were a healthy boy with his father’s striking blue eyes, and a healthy, beautiful girl with her mother’s dark curls and her father’s steel-blue eyes. 

One thing is certain: your daughter will one day turn heads wherever she goes, and your son is bound to become a heartthrob.

Yet no one was prouder than their father - Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The tough-as-nails man who turned soft as butter at the sight of his family.

That is what makes your family so special: 

Rose, Sophia Kelly, Luca Jackson and Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

The End

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @lemmons1998, @mightypocketcow, @doctorwhorocksuniverse-blog, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs, @niqhtvibez, @annieteamedge, @wanniiieeee, @n-o-p-e-never

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: none

Finally, the moment had arrived, and you stood beside him. Completely entranced, you gazed deep into each other's eyes while Ducky, smiling contentedly, placed your hands together and then took his place beside Jethro - because he was, after all, his best man, and he was immensely proud of the honor.

Rachel and Abby stood beside you as your bridesmaids. But Abby had two more roles she was overjoyed about - she was also your maid of honor and carried the small cushion with your wedding rings. She could hardly contain her joyful squeals. She wanted to cheer, dance, and celebrate, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

The officiant began the ceremony, yet you had eyes only for each other. In the background, you heard the man’s address, but the words did not reach you - only the feelings they evoked. Peace. Happiness. Togetherness. Love. Infinite love.

It was all wonderfully romantic and could have been so beautiful - if only…

…Yes, if only the stranger in the back row hadn't pulled out a gun. It was a woman. With short dark hair, dark glasses, and a large hat. But nobody seems to know her.

“Stop! Stop!” she screamed, beside herself, pointing the weapon at you.

The judge froze in shock, as did everyone else.

“You have to do everything yourself…” the stranger grumbled, slowly approaching you.

“The moment I found out about the pregnancy, I hired a hitman. I couldn't let myself lose you forever because of that brat.”

She paused briefly, then continued, her voice filled with menace and hatred. 

“I won't let this wedding take place. Who knows which bastard that slut let impregnate her!”

This woman was insane and determined to do anything; that much was clear. From the very beginning, this woman seemed familiar to Gibbs, but now it dawned on him, and his face darkened.

"I was the bastard, Jenny. That's what you call starting a family, and I'm so happy about our children."

This threw the woman off balance. Irritated, she asked in a thin voice,

"I... how do you know...?"

Gibbs' eyes hardened even more than before.

"Your disguises have always been flawed," he hissed.

Indignantly, Shepard took off his glasses and threw them away. Then she roared,

"That bitch just won't die!"

She shifted from one foot to the other. She didn't want Gibbs to see her like this, but that was secondary now, because in the end, he'd thank her for intervening. Right? ...Right?

She lowered her voice, and her next words were no longer just a threat, but an immediate danger.

“So I have to do it myself…”

Then she aimed at you and pulled the trigger.

“Just die already!!!”

But fortunately, Pride and Franks lunged at her at just the right moment and tackled her to the ground.

It all happened at once. The two of them held Jenny down, Abby and Rachel tended to the wounded Palmer, who had been hit by the bullet, and Gibbs held you protectively in his arms.

There was also a certain irony to the situation. While Gibbs, clad in his wedding suit, was unarmed, Elaine managed to get hold of Jenny’s gun - using it to keep her at bay.

The fact that she was trembling like a leaf as she did so—and that it wasn't actually necessary, since Dwayne and Mike already had everything in hand—was, however, beside the point. She simply wanted to do something to help, too.

Despite all the chaos, Jethro quickly assessed the situation - as he always did. Jimmy had been hit, but it was merely a graze to the shoulder, and he was already being tended to. You were shaken, certainly, but otherwise appeared to be fine - and that was all that mattered.

That left him with only one thing to do: settle the score with Jenny Shepard. Once and for all.

He approached her, his body tense. His face was a mask, yet beneath it seethed rage, hatred, and revulsion.

She fought as if her life depended on it. Time and again she struck at Mike and Dwayne, who struggled to restrain her without knocking her out - she was, after all, still a woman.

But as Gibbs came to a halt directly in front of her, she froze. Her resistance crumbled instantly.

“Jethro… Jethro… you came back to me… I always knew that we belonged together,” she cooed.

He merely watched her in silence. This woman he had once loved… nothing of her remained. Instead, her eyes held the peculiar glint of madness.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he was responsible. But no, certainly not. Because SHE had betrayed and abandoned HIM. Apparently, she regretted it now, but it was far too late.

He leaned toward her, and his voice had the sharpest, coldest tone she had ever heard from him as he spoke:

“If you ever get too close to my family or me, I will kill you. This isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

“And if he doesn’t, I will,” Frank added, his voice filled with hatred. Dwayne could only agree with both of them and nodded in support.

“Get her out of here. I never want to see her again,” Gibbs ordered. He turned his back on her without another word and walked toward you, while Franks and Pride dragged Jenny to the car.

She thrashed about like a fury again. She screamed, shrieked, kicked, and flailed wildly - but against the two seasoned investigators, she was powerless.”

Once they reached the car, they handcuffed her and taped her mouth shut.

"Peace at last," Franks grumbled, eliciting a grin from Pride.

They had both sustained scratches from her fingernails, and by tomorrow additional bruises would appear; but the threat to the Gibbs family was finally over, and happiness could begin.

And since they didn't want to miss as much of the wedding celebration as possible, they sped to NCIS headquarters to take Shepard into custody.

One thing was certain: she would spend the rest of her life in prison for multiple counts of attempted murder - and part of it certainly in a psychiatric hospital.

(To be continued in the last chapter 54.)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @lemmons1998, @mightypocketcow, @doctorwhorocksuniverse-blog, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs, @niqhtvibez, @annieteamedge, @wanniiieeee, @n-o-p-e-never

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: pure fluff

After getting up, you had breakfast before diving straight into the wedding preparations. First, all your close colleagues were informed. Everyone was thrilled and immediately got to work.

But no one was happier than Ducky. Your wedding was to take place in his beloved garden. But that wasn't all - he was also chosen to walk you down the aisle and give you away to Jethro.

The greatest honor, however, came from his old friend. As you were all sitting together in the garden, Gibbs leaned toward him and looked at him. No walls. Open and honest.

“This is very important to me. To us. And to our children.”

A pause. He swallowed hard before continuing.

“I’m asking you to be my best man.”

Ducky’s eyes widened before he let out a laugh and pulled him into a hug.

“Of course, Jethro. Of course. I am always here for you.”

They patted each other on the back in friendship, holding on tight. They had been through so much together, and finally, everything was going to be alright. They were certain of it - and, of course, they would be proven right.

Rachel wept tears of joy when she arrived in Washington to support you and you asked her to be your bridesmaid. She was over the moon and made a great team with Abby, who was set to be your ring bearer and had shed quite a few happy tears of her own.

With every passing day leading up to the ceremony, the nerves grew, but the joy far outweighed the jitters. The entire team played their part in the planning, but finding a wedding dress for you proved to be a particular challenge, as none of you knew exactly what Gibbs would like.

Glitter? No. Ruffles? No. The princess look? Definitely not. But then… after several dresses, just as you were all becoming completely frustrated… you found the PERFECT gown. You tried it on, and not only did it feel wonderful - you looked breathtaking.

This is the exact dress you will be wearing in two days' time, when you walk down the aisle on Ducky’s arm toward Jethro. Toward the man you love so dearly - and whose children you were carrying beneath your heart.

As is usually the case, the men's search for a suit was much faster and easier - but even Gibbs was nervous. He finally felt like he had come home. The endless suffering and loneliness had come to an end.

And then - finally - the big day arrived. Your wedding. Not undercover for a case. No. Just the two of you. Exactly as you were. The sun was shining, the garden was decorated with flowers and white ribbons, and the excitement in the air was palpable.

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought you might faint. But then, there was a knock at the door. Ducky had come to collect you.

With shaky knees, you walked to the door and opened it cautiously. He stood there in his black suit, his eyes widening as he looked at you.

“Y/N, you are beautiful. Jethro is a very lucky man.”

Your cheeks flushed red, and you lowered your eyes. “Do you really think so?”

He gave a short laugh and pulled you into a hug.

“But of course, my dear. Without a doubt.”

He held you reassuringly in his arms for a minute before finally asking softly, 

“Are you ready? Shall we? He’s waiting for you quite eagerly.”

You gave him a brave smile and nodded.

“Then let’s go to him… before he grows impatient,” he said, and winked at you.

That finally made you laugh. Dr. Mallard had achieved his goal. He placed your hand on his arm, and together you walked out into the garden where everyone was waiting for you.

When they saw you, they were breathless. You looked stunning. You tried to soak in every detail - the decoration, the way everyone looked at you with such delight and smiles. But as you reached the aisle, everything else faded away.

Because there HE stood. Jethro. In a perfectly tailored grey suit, looking absolutely divine.

“Is this really happening?” you asked yourself. But yes, every sign pointed to the fact that this wasn't one of your countless dreams, but actual reality. He was truly standing there at the altar, his bright blue eyes fixed on you, waiting.

And he shouldn't have to wait a second longer.

“Let’s go to him,” Ducky whispered. And step by step, to the sound of Bette Midler’s “The Rose,” you walked down the aisle toward Jethro and the altar where he stood.

He, on the other hand, saw things quite differently than you did. Gibbs was oblivious to everything around him except for you. When he saw you, his heart pounded as if it were about to leap out of his chest. It was as if an angel were appearing before him. Finally, his dream was coming true.

As you approached him, the rest of the world simply faded away for him. You were a vision in your sexy white dress. It was off-the-shoulder and form-fitting down to the knees - a mermaid silhouette. You wore your hair half-up, half-down, just the way he likes it, because he loves burying his hands in it when he kisses you - tenderly, passionately, deeply, and intensely - pouring all his love for you into every kiss

But the most beautiful part was how the cut of the dress accentuated your baby bump, revealing your shared happiness. He was so proud of you - and of your children. For him, there was nothing more beautiful in this moment.

Only a few more seconds - and he could finally call you HIS, completely and forever.

(To be continued in Chapter 53.)

---------------------

Here you will find the other chapters of this story

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @lemmons1998, @mightypocketcow, @doctorwhorocksuniverse-blog, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs, @niqhtvibez, @annieteamedge, @wanniiieeee, @n-o-p-e-never

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: fluff

No sooner had you stepped inside and the door clicked shut than a barrage of questions hit you.

“What happened?"

“Are you guys okay?"

“What’s the plan now?"

“Do you know anything about Director Shepard?"

“Shhh, shhh, easy now…” Gibbs raised his hands, trying to stem the tide of questions while the others crowded around to hug you.

The joy of seeing the two of you back together was immense, but the weight of Jenny’s disappearance and your unexpected pregnancy still hung heavy in the air like a dark cloud.

That said, the surprise at your baby bump far outweighed any mistrust of Jenny, since no one had known - except for Ducky and the two of you. But of course, despite the chaos, everyone was overjoyed for you.

There was a huge commotion as everyone gathered around, hugging and squeezing you tight over and over again. A million questions were fired at you at once.

“Are you two really together now?” 

“What happened? Are you okay?” 

“Did Jenny have anything to do with the crash?” 

“Are you coming back to the Team?” 

“Are you two staying together for good?”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed and unsure which question to tackle first, you were relieved when your husband finally stepped in. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulled you close, and raised his other hand.

“Shhhhh…..”

The room went silent. He waited a beat, letting the quiet settle, before he started explaining.

“Yes, Y/N is doing fine. There are only three months left until the babies are due. No, we don’t have any names yet. And yes, we are very much together, and that’s not going to change. I'm not letting her go ever again.” He tightened his grip on your waist, his voice dropping an octave.

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"Jenny hired a hitman to kill Y/N. He planted a bomb in the helicopter, which caused it to crash. Y/N was thrown clear of the wreckage, which is the only reason she survived."

Another pause. Then:

"The manhunt for Jenny is underway. But as for whether my wife returns to the Team - that's a decision she’ll make when she’s ready."

You looked at each other lovingly. It was such a sweet, emotional moment that it brought tears to everyone’s eyes without exception.

Noticing the shift in the room, the three men quickly said their goodbyes and headed home. Abby, however, was still squealing with delight and melting at the sight of you and Gibbs together and the way he was looking at you - until Gibbs decided enough was enough. He gently but firmly ushered her out the door so you could finally recover from the journey.

Then you were alone. Just the two of you. Back in his house, which had now truly become a home for both of you. But you weren't entirely alone—and you never would be again. The peace and quiet would soon be over once your twins entered the world.

Finally, your life together with your children could begin, and you were both looking forward to it immensely. While Jethro started on dinner, you began the quiet task of unpacking the suitcases.

Once you had eaten your fill and finished the dishes, you lay arm in arm on the couch watching an old Western. His gaze kept drifting back to your belly. He was so proud of your bump; to him, it symbolized your future and your happiness together.

Instinctively, he pulled you even closer, his hand beginning to caress you. He tenderly kissed your temple, working his way down to that one little spot on your neck he loved so much, where he adored nibbling on your skin.

Once again, his affectionate, sensual nibbling didn't fail to have its effect; you began to grow restless in his arms. With a soft sigh, you arched toward him, your fingertips grazing his broad, hairy chest - the sight and feel of him always turned you on.

“Let’s go upstairs," he whispered into your ear, playfully biting your earlobe to tease you. The gentle kiss he breathed upon it afterward made everything right again.

“I can’t wait,” you whispered against his lips, giving him a loving kiss, and his response was immediate.

He gently pulled away, scooped you up in his arms, and carried you to your bed. The front door was locked, but he wanted to be absolutely sure you wouldn’t be disturbed, so he locked the bedroom door behind you as well.

You made love all night long, unable to get enough of each other. You had kept your feelings a secret from one another for so long that now you couldn't stop showing them, proving them, and showering each other with affection you had both craved for so long. Even then, it was perfectly clear that this would never change.

The following morning, you were still lying there, tangled so closely together that it was impossible to tell where one of you ended and the other began.

Tender, gentle kisses scattered across your face woke you up. Slowly opening your eyes, you saw the most wonderful sight you could imagine - your husband.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered, giving you another lingering kiss.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“I had an idea,” he murmured.

You couldn't help but giggle. 

“Have you been watching me sleep again?”

Jethro gave a lopsided smile, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah... I couldn't help myself.”

You placed your hand gently against his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against your palm as you tenderly pressed your lips to his.

“I love you."

"I love you, too.” 

He kissed you again - this time more firmly, more possessively.

When he finally pulled away, he told you about his idea. "I don’t want to wait any longer. Let’s get married again in a week. In Ducky’s garden. With our friends, our colleagues… our family. No undercover roles, no more cover stories. Just us."

He looked deep into your eyes and carefully placed his large, strong hand on your baby bump.

"Just us - and our children. The lives we created together. So that our life as a family can finally, truly begin."

Your face lit up with excitement. 

“Oh, Jethro! Yes! That’s a wonderful idea! I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled and happy to help with the preparations."

You threw your arms around him, and for that moment, the world was the most beautiful place in the universe. 

But Jenny and her unknown plans for revenge hung over your happiness like the sword of Damocles.

(To be continued in Chapter 52.)

-------------------

Here you will find the other chapters of this story

Back to the overview of this story

Back to the main Masterlist

Back to the alternative Masterlist

-------------------

Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27, @newttheglue250, @lemmons1998, @mightypocketcow, @doctorwhorocksuniverse-blog, @mrs-pride-archer-gibbs, @niqhtvibez, @annieteamedge, @wanniiieeee, @n-o-p-e-never