Untitled

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

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

Back to the overview 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

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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

He looked at you, surprised. Then, he gently pressed his lips against yours, smiled, and whispered.

"We aren't divorced."

He leaned in to kiss you again, but you turned your head away. "What do you mean? I signed the papers!"

He smiled. "That’s true. But I tore them up."

Your eyes widened. "That means..."

Now he laughed. "It means we’re still married, Mrs. Gibbs."

You stared at him, speechless. You couldn't believe it. He winked.

"There is no one else, and I don’t want anyone else. I only want you. Like I confessed to you that night... I love you, and for me, there will never be anyone but you.”

You continued to stare at him in silence. You needed a moment for it all to sink in. He sighed.

"I was desperate, and I longed for you so much that I simply couldn't let you go."

That broke the spell. In the next heartbeat, you threw yourself at your husband, hugging him as tightly as you could. You covered his face with kisses, confessing your love over and over again.

"I love you. I love you so much."

He laughed, playfully trying to defend himself. 

When he finally managed to catch your wrists, he gently rolled on top of you, looked deep into your eyes, and asked:

"Will you marry me? Again?"

Was he actually serious? His eyes searched yours, pleading as if his life depended on your answer, and your heart just melted.

"YES!!!!" you answered, beaming with joy.

His reaction was instant. Radiating happiness, he silenced you with a passionate kiss that nearly made you lose your mind.

"Let’s go back to D.C. and get married there. In our garden, with all our friends. What do you think?"

Jethro was practically bursting with excitement. He was so worked up that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"That sounds wonderful. Let’s do it!"

This time, you were the one to kiss him passionately. This incredible, breathtaking man - YOUR husband.

Floating on cloud nine, you held each other close, trading soft, loving kisses. But they weren't just kisses; every single one was a declaration of love. You spent hours lost in each other, making up for lost time, unable to bear even a moment of separation.

Eventually, hunger was the only thing capable of dragging you out of your paradise. You got dressed - punctuated by constant kisses - and went out for a meal. Sitting there holding hands like a couple of lovestruck teenagers, you looked so happy that everyone in the room couldn't help but envy you.

But Jethro remained true to himself, rough edges, sarcasm, and all. Only with you was he noticeably softer, and whenever you were together, he kept a constant hand on you - as if he were afraid you might vanish the second he let go.

A few days later, the time had finally come. The doctor cleared you for travel, and Jethro took a day off for the move back home - to Washington, D.C., and back to your house. He had already packed everything and sent it ahead, and Abby, Ducky, Tony, and McGee had enthusiastically agreed to do the unpacking to take the pressure off you - and to make sure the Boss could focus entirely on taking care of you.

But that wasn't all - they wanted to surprise you. They decorated the entire house with colorful garlands and flowers they were sure you’d love. Above the door, they hung a "Welcome Home" banner, got a cake and some champagne for a toast, and waited for you in the living room. Abby stood by the window, keeping a lookout.

It wasn't long before Gibbs, completely unsuspecting, parked the car in front of the house and helped you out. You were both thrilled about the pregnancy, but your steadily growing bump was becoming more and more of a challenge for you.

"I feel like a clumsy whale," you muttered in frustration.

But your husband took you tenderly in his arms, kissed you, and whispered, "You're the most beautiful whale I've ever seen."

Laughing, you playfully punched his shoulder, your bad mood instantly vanishing.

"Come on, let’s go inside. It’s been a long day."

He was right. It had been a very long day, and you were both completely exhausted. Gibbs grabbed the suitcases from the trunk, and together you headed toward the front door. Just a few more feet…

...when suddenly, the door flew open and Abby came charging toward you.

"Welcome back!!!!" she shouted, throwing herself into Gibbs' arms, who dropped the suitcases just in time to catch her.

“Hmph. Abby. Air,” he wheezed, as she was practically squeezing the life out of him.

"Oh, right. Yeah," she said, letting him go, only to spin around and throw herself into your arms instead.

You caught her, but just as quickly as she’d hugged you, she pulled back. She looked down at you in astonishment, then, looking completely mesmerized, she reached out in slow motion to touch your clearly rounded belly.

She didn't say a word; she just looked back and forth between you and Jethro with a questioning expression. Jethro, however, was busy greeting Ducky, Tony, and McGee.

So, she turned her silent gaze back to you. Her eyes grew wider and wider. You couldn't help but smile.

“Our family is about to get a little bigger.”

"You mean… Baby Gibbs…?"

“Yes. Twins, actually."

For a second, there was total silence - then Abby let out a loud squeal of joy.

"YESSSS!!!! Baby Gibbs!!!! No wait, there are two… TWO Baby Gibbs!!!"

There was no stopping her now. It was a hilarious sight as she leaned down and began talking intensely to your belly. You laughed so hard that tears came to your eyes, while your husband… 

…he just rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched into a small, genuine smile full of pride and love for you and your children.

Ducky stepped over and gently pulled Abby away from you. "Let them get inside the house first, Abby. There’s obviously a great deal to catch up on.”

(To be continued in Chapter 51.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story

Back to the overview of this story

Back to the main Masterlist

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

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

Yeah!!!! I'm so excited!!! This is my hundredth story for Gibbs - my dream comes true. Thanks to you all for joining me on this voyage. 🥰🥰❤️🥳🥳

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: fluff, romance

Your POV

The morning at NCIS headquarters smelled like always: of stale floor cleaner, paper, the metallic scent of gun oil, and - right next to me - the best coffee in all of D.C. I sat at my desk, staring at the monitor, waiting for the world to explode.

Instead, I found a piece of paper.

It was lying right on my keyboard. A plain white slip of paper with this information written on it in handwriting that looked old-school and disciplined:

"You will receive 100 more messages. Figure out what they mean. No tech. Find out who I am."

"DiNozzo!" I hissed.

Tony flinched so violently he almost fell off his chair.

"I didn't do anything! I swear, the thing with McGee's keyboard was an accident!"

“Did you put this here?” I asked, holding up the note.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Nope. Looks like a scavenger hunt. Pretty old-fashioned. Not my style.”

I just looked at him. Then I turned and looked at Gibbs’ desk. The boss was staring at his screen, his face like it had been carved from granite. He didn’t even notice me looking at him. Or at least he pretended to.

Gibbs’ POV

I looked at you. Out of the corner of my eye, of course. You were holding the first note and looked as bewildered as I’d hoped. Your hair fell slightly across your face as you turned the note this way and that, as if there were an invisible ink that only appeared under UV light.

Rule #3: Never believe what you’re told. Check it out.

You would check it out. You were good at it. Too good for my own good. I sipped my coffee and felt that rare, almost forgotten ache in my chest. 100 notes. It was insane. It was sentimental. It was totally not my style. And that's precisely why she would never guess they were from me. At least not right away.

The search begins

"It wasn't long before note number one surfaced. It was plastered to the inside of my closet, saying “S'agapo”.

I stared at it. “S-a-g-a-p-o?” (Greek), I murmured. What was it? A code? A name? A blood pressure medication?

I was about to pull out my phone when the first message came flooding back: No technology.

For the next three days, my life became a bizarre game of hide-and-seek. I found notes in my desk drawer, in my coat pocket, even one inside my ID badge.

The messages grew increasingly cryptic:

(Note #2) Taku (Maori)

(Note #3) Ke a rata (Sotho)

(Note #4) Nalingi yo (Lingala)

(Note #5) Ek het jou lief (Afrikaans)

I spent my lunch breaks in the old library in the basement, poring over thick dictionaries and phrasebooks. My head was spinning.

"What are you reading?" a voice growled behind me.

I jumped. Gibbs was standing there, a cup of coffee in his hand, his gaze unfathomable.

"Nothing," I said quickly, closing the book. "Just... a hobby."

"A hobby," he repeated dryly. He leaned forward, so close that I caught the smell of sawdust that always seemed to surround him. "You seem stressed. Rule 10, kid."

"Always carry a knife?" I asked, confused.

"No," he grinned that crooked, almost invisible grin. "Never take a case personally."

He turned and left. I stared after him. Had he just smiled?

Gibbs' POV

You were going crazy. I saw you in the library. You looked so determined trying to translate Lingala. I could have made it easier for you, but where would the fun be in that? Besides, the look on your face when you found a new note was priceless. A mixture of triumph and pure frustration.

I placed the next ones in quick succession.

(Note #6) Inuuinniq (Inuktitut) - In your glove compartment.

(Note #7) Anh yêu em (Vietnamese) - At the coffee machine, right on the 'black' button.

(Note #8) Wo ai ni (Mandarin) - Among the files of the current case.

I watched you sitting at your desk, writing lists. You were trying to discern a pattern. Geographical? Alphabetical? You couldn't figure it out.

"Do you need help?" McGee asked on day five.

"No!" you retorted. "I can handle this on my own."

"Sarcasm is the refuge of the helpless," I remarked in passing.

You gave me a look that would have killed a weaker man.

"Says the man who speaks in riddles, Gibbs."

"I don't speak in riddles. I'm just making sure you're paying attention.”

The Flood of Languages

The weeks passed, and the slips of paper became a constant in my life. I kept them in a small box in my desk drawer. It was as if someone were drawing a secret map of my surroundings.

The list in my notebook grew, and I spent nights trying to match the terms. It was an insane mix of dialects and extinct languages.

(Note #9) Tave myliu (Lithuanian) – Behind the mirror in the ladies' room.

(Note #10) Amo-te (Portuguese) – On the floor of my car.

I was getting nervous. Who was getting into my car? Who knew when I used the stapler? I started to see the office in a different light. McGee? Too shy for such a worldly gesture. Tony? Too loud; he would have been bragging about it by now.

(Note #11) Volim te (Croatian)

(Note #12) Maite zaitut (Basque)

(Note #13) Milujem ťa (Slovak)

(Note #14) Jeg elsker dig (Danish)

(Note #15) Szeretlek (Hungarian)

The languages became more exotic, the locations more brazen. I found note number fifteen inside my work phone when I picked up the receiver.

"What's a 'Szeretlek'?" I asked.

Tony looked up. "Sounds like a vacation destination. Or an exotic disease."

Gibbs just snorted into his coffee.

I started copying the notes and pinning them to a bulletin board in my apartment. My head was spinning. Were they threats? Sleeper Agent Codes?

(Note #16) Rakastan sinua (Finnish)

(Note #17) Te iubesc (Romanian)

(Note #18) ỉnk mr.k (Ancient Egyptian)

(Note #19) Eg elski teg (Faroese)

(Note #20) Bi chamd khairtai (Mongolian)

After the first twenty notes had turned my life into a linguistic minefield, I began eyeing every object in the NCIS building with suspicion. Whoever was playing this game was a ghost.

(Note #21) Kuv hlub koj (Hmong)

(Note #22) Mahal kita (Filipino)

(Note #23) Saya sayang kamu (Malay)

(Note #24) Abhi-pay-cha-ya (Sanskrit)

(Note #25) Thane piyar karu chu (Gujarati)

(Note #26) Njan ninnu premikkunnu (Malayalam)

(Note #27) Naanu ninnanu preethisuthene (Kannada)

(Note #28) I mog di (Bavarian)

(Note #29) Obicham te (Bulgarian)

(Note #30) Te sakam (Macedonian)

I found this note in the surveillance room. I stared at the letters, trying to form them in my mind. "Te... sakam?" It sounded gentle. I crept back to my desk and glanced sideways at Gibbs. He was typing a report, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He seemed so focused that I almost dismissed the thought that he might be behind it. Almost.

(Note #31) Ti volim (Serbian)

(Note #32) Ljubim te (Slovenian)

(Note #33) Kocham cię (Polish)

(Note #34) Miluji tě (Czech)

(Note #35) Es tevi mīlu (Latvian)

(Note #36) Ma armastan sind (Estonian)

(Note #37) Ég elska þig (Icelandic)

(Note #38) Jeg elsker deg (Norwegian)

(Note #39) Jag älskar dig (Swedish)

(Note #40) Ik hou van jou (Dutch)

"Who's doing this?" I whispered one evening when only Gibbs and I were left in the office. The darkness outside pressed against the windows.

Gibbs was standing at his desk, packing his things. “Maybe someone who wants to tell you something they can’t say out loud.”

“But why so complicated? Why 100 languages?”

Gibbs stepped closer. He was now standing directly in front of my desk. “Maybe because one language isn’t enough to express what he feels.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was that a hint? No. That was Gibbs. He was sarcastic, a loner, he built boats in the basement and drank coffee like water. He wasn’t the type for romantic notes.

Or was he?

(Note #41) Bahibak (Arabic)

(Note #42) Ani ohev otach (Hebrew)

(Note #43) Seni seviyorum (Turkish)

(Note #44) Ez te hez dikim (Kurdish)

(Note #45) Doostat daram (Persian)

As I pulled this note out from under my keyboard, I felt a glance and looked up. Gibbs stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching me. His face, as always, was a mask of granite.

"Problems?" he asked curtly.

"Just... a puzzle, Boss."

He moved closer, so close I could feel his body heat. He leaned over me, his hand almost brushing mine as he reached for a file.

"Sometimes," he said softly, his voice a deep growl, "you have to stop searching to find."

Before I could reply, he was gone. My heart was pounding in my chest.

(Note #46) M'bi fe (Bambara)

(Note #47) Jarabi (Dioula)

(Note #48) Wa m'bi fe (Malinke)

(Note #49) N'zila (Twi)

(Note #50) Me dɔ wo (Fante)

I was halfway through. And I wasn't a bit wiser.

"You’re looking for patterns where there aren't any,” Gibbs grunted as he walked past.

"There is a pattern, Gibbs!” I called after him. “They’re messages!”

He stopped, turned slowly, and arched an eyebrow. "Maybe someone's trying to tell you you're spending too much time with paper.”

Gibbs' POV

You started to suspect me. I saw it in your eyes. Every time I brought you coffee or handed you a file, your fingers would search for a piece of paper.

Once I was careless. I slipped note number sixty into your lunch while you looked away for a moment.

(Note #51) Ayor anosh'ni (Navajo)

(Note #52) I dhou we (Cherokee)

(Note #53) Qanta munani (Quechua)

(Note #54) Rohayhu (Guarani)

(Note #55) Wayu (Aymara)

(Note #56) Munakuy (Inca dialect)

(Note #57) Я тебя люблю (Russian)

(Note #58) Alofa au ia te oe (Samoan)

(Note #59) Faka'apa'apa (Tongan)

(Note #60) Mon amé (Haitian Creole)

You took a bite of your sandwich and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the lettuce. You laughed. It was a genuine, bright laugh that echoed through the room.

“Enjoying your meal?” I asked dryly.

“Very informative, Gibbs. Did you know my salad speaks Haitian today?”

I just shrugged. “Maybe it’s organic. More educated.”

You shook your head and smoothed out the note. Your fingers were trembling just a little. You suspected it. But you weren't sure. Not yet.

The finale is drawing near

I became obsessed, searching everywhere. The languages became more and more beautiful, more melodic, even if I could barely pronounce them.

(Note #61) Tha gaol agam ort (Scottish Gaelic)

(Note #62) Grá agam ort (Irish)

(Note #63) Rwy'n dy garu di (Welsh)

(Note #64) Kernow (Cornish)

(Note #65) M'e d'e (Breton)

(Note #66) T'estimo (Catalan)

In the middle of the third week, I found "T'estimo" sewn into the lining of my coat, right over my heart. My heart skipped a beat. This was no longer a coincidence. Someone had to have been physically very close to me to place it there. I looked around the office. McGee was buried in his coding, Tony was flirting with a witness, and Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. He was like a shadow.

(Note #67) Quérote (Galician)

(Note #68) Maite zaitut (Basque)

(Note #69) Aimi (Occitan)

(Note #70) I't bieu (Corsican)

(Note #71) Amo-te (Portuguese)

(Note #72) Mi stimabo (Papiamento)

(Note #73) Mi lobi i (Sranantongo)

I started testing Gibbs. Whenever I found a note, I’d place it provocatively in plain sight on my desk.

When I found “Mi lobi i” (Sranantongo) - stuck to the underside of my desk chair - I shoved it right under Gibbs’ nose.

“Do you know what this means, Boss?”

He took the slip of paper, his fingers brushing mine for just a brief moment. A jolt of electricity shot through me.

He stared at the paper, then looked me straight in the eye. “It means you’re neglecting your work. Are you looking for evidence or for poetry?”

“Maybe the poetry is the evidence,” I retorted boldly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Only for a fraction of a second.

(Note #74) Mi ta stima bo (Bonaire)

(Note #75) Ayay (Tetum)

(Note #76) Inuuinniq (Greenlandic)

(Note #77) S'ayapo (Cypriot)

(Note #78) Te amo (Latin - Classical)

(Note #79) Luv'ee (Hawaiian)

(Note #80) M'bi fe (West African)

Only twenty were left. I could feel the circle closing. The places where I found them were becoming more personal. Inside my favorite book on my nightstand at home (how had they even gotten into my apartment?), in my purse, even inside a sealed evidence bag that only I was authorized to open.

(Note #81) Wo ai ni (Cantonese)

(Note #82) Daisuki desu (Japanese)

(Note #83) Saranghae (Korean)

(Note #84) Chan rak khun (Thai)

(Note #85) S'ayapo (Ancient Greek)

(Note #86) A-mi-re (Esperanto)

The hunt became physically exhausting. I searched in evidence bags, under car tires, and in coffee filters.

One evening, while we were at a crime scene in the woods, I found “A-mi-re” (Esperanto) carved into the bark of a tree, right next to the yellow police tape.

“Gibbs, do you see that?” I called out.

He stepped up behind me, his body almost pressed against my back. “What?”

“This! It’s Esperanto!”

He leaned in, his breath grazing my ear. “Maybe the tree is a romantic.”

“It’s not funny! Who is doing this?”

He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe someone who isn’t afraid of the truth. Only of your reaction.”

(Note #87) Qanta munani (Quechua)

(Note #88) Nalingi yo (Congo)

(Note #89) M'bi fe (Mali)

I was on note number eighty-nine by now. I had made a list: Geographical? No. Chronological? No. It felt as if someone were circling the entire globe just to arrive at my doorstep.

I was getting thin-skinned. I suspected everyone. Even the mailman.

“You look pale,” Gibbs said one morning, setting a cup of coffee down in front of me. Black. Strong. With milk.

“I’m not sleeping much. These words... they don’t make any sense.”

“Maybe you’re trying to understand them with your head,” he said calmly. “Try using your gut.”

(Note #90) M’bi fe (Senegal)

(Note #91) main tumse pyaar karta hoon (Hindi)

(Note #92) Nakupenda (Swahili)

(Note #93) Ich hab dich gern (Swiss German)

(Note #94) Aku cinta kamu (Indonesian)

(Note #95) Ég elska þig (Icelandic)

And then they came. The final five. The languages I recognized instantly.

I was sitting alone in the office that evening. Gibbs was already gone - or so I thought.

A small stack was lying on my chair.

(Note #96) Te amo (Spanish)

(Note #97) Je t’aime (French)

(Note #98) Ti amo (Italian) (Wait, I knew that one… didn't I?) - No, it was Italian, but was it really? I was unsure.

(Note #99) Ich liebe dich (German)

I stared at the last note, which was still face down. My hands were shaking violently now. Ninety-nine messages. Ninety-nine times “I love you.”

It wasn't code. It was a confession.

But from whom? Tony? No, too much effort. McGee? Too shy. Palmer? Too taken.

I sat there, staring at it. Suddenly, I felt a rush of heat. The handwriting. Those precise, almost harsh lines that nonetheless carried so much emotion in the curves of the letters.

I knew this handwriting. I saw it every day on mission briefings and case reports.

A shiver ran down my spine. Could it be? The man who wouldn't say three words in a row if it wasn't about a case? The man who loved rules above all else?

There was only one man persistent enough to learn a hundred languages - or at least research them - who had access to my apartment, and who knew that I hated technology when it came to the things that truly mattered.

My stomach did a somersault. These weren't codes. This wasn't a case. It was a conquest. And I was only just beginning to stop fighting it - to finally raise the white flag of surrender.

It wasn't a prank.

It wasn't a code.

It was a declaration of love. In a hundred different ways.

And suddenly I also knew why technology wasn't allowed.

Because it wasn't about translating.

It was about feeling.

And I knew that the last one - the hundredth note - would upend the world as I knew it.

I turned it over.

It wasn’t like the others. It was larger. And it was in English.

I love you.

Below it, in the same disciplined handwriting, was written:

"Come down to the basement and bring the bourbon.”

The Confession

I was nearly running. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. As I hurried down the basement stairs of Gibbs’ house, I heard the rhythmic sound of a plane on wood.

Gibbs was standing by his boat. He wore an old T-shirt, and his hair was dusted with sawdust. He didn't look up as I entered.

“It took you a hundred languages, Gibbs?” I asked, my voice slightly unsteady.

He paused, set the plane aside, and turned around slowly. His gaze was intense, blue, and so full of warmth that my knees nearly buckled.

"99," he corrected me. "The last one was my own."

"Why?" I whispered.

He stepped closer, took the bottle of bourbon from my hand, and placed it on the workbench without taking his eyes off me.

“Because I’m a stubborn old man. And because I knew you’d only listen if I challenged you properly.”

“You could have just said it.”

He chuckled softly, a deep, throaty sound. “Rule number four: The best way to keep a secret is to tell everyone, but in a way no one understands.”

“I get it,” I said, taking the last step toward him.

He placed his hands on my face. His skin was rough from the wood and from working, but his touch was incredibly gentle. “It’s about time.”

“Sarcastic bastard,” I whispered.

“Stubborn investigator,” he replied, before kissing me.

It tasted of coffee, of freedom, and of the end of a very long search. But also of all the unspoken words and feelings between us, now clear and open before us.

A Look Ahead

A year later, there were no more notes. At least not every day.

Sometimes I'd still find a note in my lunchbox - usually a reminder of Rule 12 (Never date a co-worker… “unless you absolutely have to,” he'd added by hand).

Our future together wasn't always easy. There were still cases that kept us up at night, and Gibbs was still Gibbs - a man with too many rules and a basement full of wood. But when we sat together in front of the fireplace in the evenings, him with his bourbon and me with a book, I knew that the 100 languages were just the beginning.

We had found our own language. One that didn't need words. Just a glance, a quick nod, and the knowledge that we were both finally home.

And Gibbs? He was already building a new boat. He said it was for us. I believed him. After all, he'd promised me he'd never write 100 notes again.

“Although,” he said one evening with a twinkle in his eye, “there are still a few dialects in Southeast Asia that we haven’t covered yet…”

I threw a pillow at him and he caught it, laughing.

Happy ending? No. A damn good start.

The End

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

Yeah!!!! I'm so excited!!! This is my hundredth story for Gibbs - my dream comes true. Thanks to you all for joining me on this voyage. 🥰🥰❤️🥳🥳

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Story: One day, you find the following message on your keyboard:

"You will receive 100 more messages. Find out what they mean. No tech. Find out who I am."

You set out on your quest...and the answer changes your entire world.

Chapters: 1 (one shots)

Warnings: fluff, romance

Read the story "100 little Riddles"

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Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: none

The next day, Gibbs brought you home. Or at least to the apartment you'd rented in Frisco.

It was, of course, smaller than his house, where he would have preferred to take you - HOME - but that would have to wait a few more days until your head was clear enough to fly safely.

He took such loving care of you, anticipating your every need before you even spoke. He was better than any nurse. It was funny on the one hand, but incredibly sweet on the other. The big, tough Leroy Jethro Gibbs was fussing over you like a mother hen.

He’d whip up whatever you were craving, and you spent hours just holding each other. Naturally, baby names were a big topic of conversation, too."

"What do you think of Gregory or William if it's a boy? And Carol or Gillian if it's a girl?"

Gibbs snorted. “As long as it’s NOT Tony, Anthony, or Jennifer…”

A brief silence followed. Then you looked at each other and burst out laughing. Fortunately, you still had a few months left to come up with the perfect names.

Silent and overjoyed, you lay in each other’s arms, simply savoring the fact that you were together. Jethro cherished it more than anything. He had held himself back from his love for you for far too long, believing it wasn't returned, and he was so happy to finally be able to shower you with it. And whenever he wrapped his arms around you, he felt like he never wanted to let go.

Meanwhile, the cause of the crash was officially investigated and confirmed. The helicopter crashed due to a bomb explosion, and you were thrown from the burning aircraft by its rotation, which saved your life.

The assassin has repeated his confession and is in custody, while Jenny has gone underground. A nationwide manhunt is now underway for her.

As so often in her past, she was careless, allowing the investigators to find evidence of her contract in her personal notes.

By chance, she learned from Ducky that you were pregnant and knew in that moment that she had lost Gibbs for good. She decided to eliminate you once and for all and hired a hitman. And if your children die with you… all the better.

Both you and Jethro were absolutely horrified. Neither of you had suspected Shepard of such cold-bloodedness and calculation.

But this realization brought a problem. A pretty big one, in fact. Namely, the question of where she was and what she intended to do. Because she was still dangerous and would continue to try.

Your injuries began to heal, but for safety reasons, you remained in Frisco for the time being.

Gibbs led the team and the ongoing investigation from there, all while continuing to nurse you back to health. It was going well - but he was far from happy about having to juggle the Director's duties on top of everything else. It was a job he wanted no part of.

He sat at his desk, muttering to himself in frustration, while you lay on the couch, practically doubled over with laughter. As "punishment," he gave you a thorough tickling. Your clear, ringing laughter finally broke through his foul mood, and he realized once again just how much he had missed that sound.

Two weeks later, you were feeling much better, so you decided to prepare a romantic dinner for the two of you. It was delicious, and after you both finished the dishes, Jethro went over to your CD player and put on "Hello" by Lionel Richie.

He knew you liked the song because you had sung it on his terrace a while back. Surprised and delighted, you looked at him as he walked over, smiled, and asked you to dance.

He took your hand in his, put his arm around your waist, and pulled you close. You danced in the dining room, entwined, and he hummed along to the melody.

Your head rested against his strong chest as you breathed in his scent - wood, soap, and unmistakably him. He rested his cheek on the crown of your head, fighting back tears. You both felt as if you were floating on air. Just like this. This was how it was meant to be. The two of you. Together against the rest of the world.

When he leaned back slightly, you looked up at him. In that same moment, his lips lowered onto yours. Gentle, tender, and soul-searching kisses... growing deeper and more passionate, until your longing to feel one another finally took hold.

He pressed himself against you, letting you feel his length and hardness. He devoured you with his kisses, which you returned with equal passion, moaning softly. But at that moment, the dining room wasn't the right place for this.

So, he swept you up into his arms and carried you like a bride into your bedroom, where you made love all through the night until dawn. Afterwards, you fell asleep wrapped tightly in each other's arms.

But there was a problem…you were divorced by now.

“Jethro…?” you whispered cautiously.

“I love hearing my name from you,” he replied, kissing you.

“Jethro…”

“Yes, my love?” He was nibbling on your neck, not really listening. But your next sentence changed everything:

“Where do we go from here? We’re divorced.”

(To be continued in Chapter 50.)

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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

View: Gibbs' POV

Warnings: smut!!!! +18 readers only!!!!! 🥵🥵🔥🔥

A wild, instinctive desire for sex and union drove us irresistibly toward each other, and nothing could have stopped it.

Impatiently, I pushed your panties aside and thrust two fingers into your hot entrance. Your moans were so loud that the neighbors probably heard them too. Excellent. They should hear how loud you are and how good I am at pleasuring you.

"Yes...moan for me. I want to hear you." I whispered in your ear as your slick walls clung to me as if there were no tomorrow.

"Ah, you like that...when I talk dirty to you, don't you?"

Another lustful moan from you. I pumped my fingers into you faster and faster, watching you. You threw your head back and moaned nonstop as your hips pressed against my hand.

“Yes… so gooood… faster…” you cried out, right on the edge. But that was too soon for me. You should have to wait - beg for it. So I stopped and pulled my fingers out.

I did nothing but watch you with my burning gaze. Your sensually parted lips, your skin, slightly damp with sweat...this was MY work, and I was proud of it, because this was just a small taste of what was to come.

Slowly, you realized I was waiting. With a whimper, you opened your eyes and looked at me. They were dark with desire and spoke of lust.

I placed my hand around your neck and pulled you toward me. Kiss by kiss, I moved my lips to your earlobe, which I gently nibbled, whispering, "Tell me what you want."

Another whimper. This time more urgent. Your pelvis rubbed against mine in a clear invitation, but you'd teased me for too long to simply get your way now.

I leaned back and looked at you intently. No more excuses, just raw desire. My fingers found your clit again and teased it briefly.

"Gibbssss... please!!!"

"Please what?" I grinned at you, because I knew exactly what you wanted. But this was your punishment for the past few days.

"Please... I can't take it anymore..."

Your whimpering gradually turned into moaning. So I gave you a finger, which I slowly slid inside you.

"Yessss... more..."

Ah, yes. So you wanted more... you were going to get it. I pulled my finger out, only to immediately plunge three fingers inside you.

“Oooohhhh…”

A loud moan escaped you, and your hips began to rotate. You started pleasuring yourself with my fingers - a very erotic sight that made my cock even harder than it already was.

“Knead your breasts,” I commanded.

Man, that was hot. The way you kneaded them again and again, playing with your nipples. I moaned, and my urge to impale you grew stronger and stronger.

So I withdrew my fingers, which you didn't like at all.

“Hey!!!” you tried to protest, but I swallowed your lips in an all-consuming kiss. Your hands ran through my chest hair and down my back, as if you were searching for something to hold onto in a world that was about to fall apart.

I took my cock and rubbed the tip against your pussy.

“Is this what you want?”

I loved teasing you, and finally you couldn't hold back any longer and came with a loud cry.

"YESSSSS!!!!"

Your whole body trembled as you clung to me. Your fingers dug into my back, and your juices flowed down your thighs.

Now my patience was gone. I positioned myself at your entrance and drove into you with a powerful thrust, all the way to the hilt.

"Oooohhhh, sooo biiiiig…"

I grinned. "Of course. Everything about me is big. Just you wait."

Your eyes widened in anticipation of what might come next, but they closed in total surrender as I began to thrust into you powerfully and hard.

We were like two predators who had finally found each other, and now our wild, primal instincts took over. Every touch was intense, every moan an affirmation.

The world outside this basement ceased to exist - there was only the fire between us, consuming all traces of professional distance.

Your tight, wet heat clamped around me like a fist, and I thought I was losing my mind. Again and again, thrust after thrust, I drove into the very core of you. My hands gripped your hips, owning you with every hard thrust of my own.

But you would have to wait for your second orgasm. That's why I paused every time you were on the verge of climax. I remained buried deep inside you. Your fingers continued to dig into my back as your hips desperately pressed against mine.

"Do you want it? All of it?" I asked you, breathing heavily, struggling to hold back.

“Yessss! Take me!!!”

“Say my name.”

A whimper. A powerful thrust. Just one.

“Look at me and say my name!”

“Gibbssss!!!”

“Good girl.” Thrust. A deep moan from you.

But I made you wait. It wasn't time yet. You should feel who was with you. You should feel my cock filling you up and stretching you. Hard, long, hot. I filled you so completely that our bodies melted together. No man would ever feel you like this again, except me.

My kisses grew harder, more passionate, almost possessive. I dug my hands into your hair and gently pulled your head back to expose your neck, which I marked with hot, wet kisses. Your whole body trembled with desire, and you moaned my name with pure lust. A sound that obliterated every last vestige of self-control within me.

“Fuck me!!!" you demanded again and again, and that's exactly what I did.

It was primal. There were no elegant words left, only the raw urge to feel one another. I lunged into you wildly. Our hips slammed together, our groans growing louder. The wet sound of your cunt was so loud it almost drowned us out. It was driving me insane.

Your full breasts bounced in time with my powerful thrusts. They fit perfectly in my hands as I grasped them and kneaded them thoroughly. I twisted one nipple while I sucked on the other.

Your moans turned into sharp, unrestrained cries.

"Oh God...give it to me!!! Harder!! YEEEESSS..."

"Yessss, come for me..."

I pounded into you at a breathtaking pace, and your body jerked violently as you came with my cock inside you this time. Your legs locked around my waist, crushing me even deeper into you.

But I wouldn't have been able to pull away anyway, because your pussy gripped me like a vise, trying to suck every last drop out of me.

"Oh my God, you're so hot." I was still fucking you at breakneck speed, but your tight grip on my cock was too much.

"Do you want it? Do you want my cum?"

My words and thrusts became ragged. I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Yes!!! Fuck yes! Give it to me! Give me everything you've got!!!"

“Then take it. Take every drop I’m giving you."

And I did. My hands clamped onto your hips as I delivered one last powerful thrust. I pressed your pelvis hard against mine, burying myself as deep as I could inside you as I came. But I didn't just reach my climax. I marked you. With a guttural, loud groan, I filled you with my seed. Pulse after pulse, making my claim on you clear.

"Take every drop of me.”

"Oh my goooddd…so much…!!!"

Mine. You’re mine," I whispered, breathless, as I kept pumping my seed into you. It was a promise, given in total honesty and surrender. You were mine, and nothing was ever going to change that.

My thrusts slowed, but I felt an insatiable urge to push my juice as deep inside you as possible. I kissed you - slower now, more tender - savoring the aftershocks and the feeling of being one with you.

As I pulled out of you, some of my seed leaked from your red, swollen cunt. There was so much of it that it began to trail down your thigh. It was an incredible amount - far more than you could hold.

I looked at my handiwork with satisfaction, caught the sticky white cream with my fingers, and pushed it back into your burning heat where it belongs. I was sealing you with it.

There was so much of me in you. So damn much. But like I said… everything about me is big.

Later, we both lay breathless on the blankets that usually covered the wood. Our hair was disheveled and our skin glistening with sweat. I looked at you. You seemed pleased, almost triumphant.

"Got another sarcastic remark ready?" you asked softly, stroking my cheek. A tender, intimate kiss followed - one that felt entirely different from the storm that had come before.

I pulled you tightly to my side.

"Maybe just one," I grumbled. "That it took you way too long to convince me.”

The tension in the office evolved into a deep, unshakable partnership. We learned to draw the line between the crime scene and the bedroom - most of the time, anyway. The colleagues wondered about my occasional smile, but nobody dared to ask questions. On weekends, we sailed on the boat I finally finished, and I realized I didn't have to build alone in the basement anymore. I had found a partner who had just as much fire in her blood as I did.

The End

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This is my 99th story for Gibbs (NCIS), and I'm overjoyed! Just one more story and my dream will finally come true. I can hardly believe it. 🥰❤️

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

View: Gibbs' POV

Warnings: none

I've experienced many things that have driven me to the brink of insanity. Bad interrogations. Even worse coffee. People who think they're smarter than they are.

But nothing - absolutely nothing - has ever driven me as reliably insane as you.

You just appeared. Without warning. Without any respect for my peace and quiet. And, above all, without a shred of common sense when it came to leaving me alone.

“Gibbs, you look like you’re in a bad mood.”

I didn’t even bother to look up. “I’m not in a bad mood. I have you.”

You laughed. Of course you did. Like it was a compliment.

That was the beginning.

You had a particular talent: you could get under my skin without even thinking about it. Or maybe you did—which, honestly, made it even worse.

“You could try smiling sometime,” you said one day, leaning far too close over my desk.

"I smile when I have a reason."

"But I am a reason."

I looked at you. For a long time. A very long time. "You're a reason to leave the room."

Your grin only widened.

I should have known then.

It wasn’t just your words. It was your presence. The way you were simply… there. In my space. In my thoughts. In moments when I definitely should have had other things on my mind.

You grabbed my mug before I could react, took a sip, and grimaced.

"That's not coffee. That's a crime."

"Keep your hands off my things."

"Or what?"

I stood up. Slowly. Slow enough to make most people take a step back.

Not you. 

You just stood there, staring at me. Challenged. With that damn glint in your eyes.

"Or what?" you repeated quietly.

And there it was.

That tiny crackle in the air that I didn't like.

I moved closer. Too close. "Or you'll learn I have no sense of humor."

You leaned in a little more. "Oh, I think you do. You're just good at hiding it."

I should have kicked you out.

Instead, I kissed you.

Hardly. Spontaneously. Without thinking.

And damn it - you kissed me back.

Not surprised. Not hesitant. But exactly as if you'd been waiting for it.

When we broke apart, you looked at me as if nothing had happened.

"See?" you murmured. "You can react."

I really should have kicked you out, because after that, everything got worse. Or better.

I'm still not sure.

You kept provoking me. Constantly. Deliberately. With a little smile that told me you knew exactly what you were doing.

And me? I lost. Slowly. Bit by bit.

"You're unusually quiet today," you said one evening when we were alone.

"I'm enjoying this rare silence."

"I can end it right now."

"I don't doubt that."

You came closer. Much too close again. "Maybe I don't even want to."

I looked at you. Really looked at you.

And there was something in your gaze that was no longer just playful.

It hit me unexpectedly. Straight on.

"This is dangerous," I said quietly.

"I know."

"And you still keep going."

"Of course."

I shook my head. "You're impossible."

You smiled gently. "And you love it."

I wanted to argue.

Instead, I pulled you closer and kissed you again.

This time it was different. Slower. Deeper.

No longer out of spite or impulse, but because I wanted to. Because I wanted YOU.

Your hands found the back of my neck, holding me tight, as if you never wanted to let me go. And I let it.

More than that - I pulled you closer and deepened the kiss until everything else faded away.

When we finally broke apart, your breathing was as ragged as mine.

"You're still annoying," I murmured.

You chuckled softly. "And you're still bad at admitting things."

It wasn't long before I couldn't hide it from myself anymore.

You weren't just a distraction. You were a problem. A big one. Because I had fallen in love. Deeply. Irrevocably.

And the worst part? You already knew.

"You look at me like you're thinking something," you said one day.

"I'm always thinking."

"Yes, but this time it's different."

I remained silent.

You moved closer and placed your hand on my chest. "Say it."

I looked at your hand. Then into your eyes.

"I can't get you out of my head."

A small, triumphant smile appeared on your lips. "That took a while."

I snorted. "Don't be so smug."

"Too late."

I grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. "You're still exhausting."

"And you're still here."

I kissed you. This time, slowly. Tenderly. With a depth that said everything words couldn't. You kissed me back, just as softly, just as surely.

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt… right.

The future with you?

It will be loud. Chaotic. Full of arguments I'll lose, even though I'll never admit it.

You'll keep provoking me. Annoying me. Driving me to the brink of insanity.

And me?

I'll keep kissing you when you least expect it. Holding onto you when you try to escape. And looking at you like you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Which you are, damn it.

And if you think I'm going to say that out loud—

Forget it. I'd rather show you.

Again and again.

The End

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Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: none

The monitor showed your dramatically dropping blood pressure, and the machine sounded a loud alarm. The doctors rushed into the hospital room and moved Jethro aside so they could work.

"Please step aside," they ordered him.

"What's wrong?"

"Let us work."

Gibbs was shocked. Pumped full of adrenaline and beside himself with fear, he wanted to be by your side. But his mind was still functioning enough that he stayed by the window and let the doctors work.

"Please... don't take them away from me again. I need the three of them," Gibbs kept repeating desperately to himself.

And his prayers were answered. Because your vital signs slowly stabilized. Your doctor turned to him:

“I can put your mind at ease, Mr. Gibbs. Everything is fine. It was just dehydration. We're giving her fluids intravenously now. She'll be fine. No need to worry.”

He briefly placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiled at him, and then left the room. You were alone again, and he resumed his watch at your bedside.

An hour later, you finally came to. Your head and various parts of your body ached, and you heard a deep, steady voice that sounded familiar.

“Where am I? What happened?” were your first thoughts. You slowly opened your eyes. Only briefly, because it was very bright, but the second time was better.

Even so, you assumed you were dreaming. Because what you saw couldn't possibly be real, could it? You were apparently lying in a bed - clearly a hospital, everything white and somehow sterile.

So far, so good. But then you noticed something you hadn’t realized at first: Gibbs was sitting next to you. And not only that - he was holding your hand, his other hand resting on your belly.

But the strangest thing was that he was talking softly to it! It was HIS voice that you'd been hearing all along. It wasn't just a dream; he was really there! Your heart started racing with excitement, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. This was also reflected on the monitor, which started beeping faster.

When he heard this, Gibbs jerked upright and turned to you, eyes wide. At the sound of your laughter, his heart had briefly stopped, then it started racing again. His face lit up, and he began to beam with happiness.

He was filled with boundless relief and laughed heartily. As if he'd done it a thousand times before, he leaned towards you, took your head in his hands, and kissed you passionately. He poured all his pent-up emotions into that kiss and made you feel what you meant to him. After the initial passionate kiss, his kisses became gentler as one of his hands wandered to the back of your neck and he breathed a tender kiss onto your lips.

“You’re back with me again. I love you so much,” he whispered passionately, gently pressing his lips to yours once more.

“I love you…” Kiss.

“I love you…” Kiss.

“I LOVE YOU THREE!!!” A more passionate kiss.

“I’m so glad you’re still here with me…”

Another kiss. As deep and intimate as only lovers can share.

During a brief pause, your hands played with the soft hair on the back of his neck. It was a wonderful feeling. Gently, you rested your forehead against his.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

“I was looking for you and rushed here as soon as I heard about the assassination attempt.” 

“Assassination attempt???”

Jethro sighed. “Yes. Jenny hired a hitman to finally get rid of you. Luckily, he didn't succeed.”

He kissed you again with relief, instinctively placing his hand protectively on your slightly rounded belly.

“Um, Gibbs…”

He grinned broadly at you. “I'm so happy.”

Did he know? You weren't entirely sure, but everything seemed to point to it.”

He kissed you. “I already know.”

That confirmed your suspicion. “How?”

He laughed. “Ducky told me about your ‘health issues,’ assuming I'd definitely be interested. And that's how I guessed.”

You looked at him uncomfortably. “So now what?”

He smiled lovingly again and kissed you.

“Now we'll soon be a real little family.”

He pulled away and bent down to your waist, which he stroked.

“The three of us are already a little family, and I can’t wait for us to be together.”

You laughed: "You mean the two of you."

He looked at you, his eyes sparkling with joy. He looked like a boy on Christmas morning.

"The three of us. They're twins."

He let that sink in for a moment.

Then he laughed and said, “I was just as surprised when your doctor told me. But I’m so excited about our babies. Just a few more months and we’ll finally get to know each other.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had never seen him so open and happy. You were speechless.

"My darling..." he began.

"I almost lost you, and now you make me the happiest man in the world."

Another pause.

"I'm so proud of the life we've created together. So let's choose some names together."

He looked so incredibly happy that you melted. If you weren't already hopelessly in love with him...you certainly would have been now. It was wonderful to see his large hand, which could be so firm, resting so gently on your slightly rounded belly. And knowing that your children were growing inside you - and that he was not only okay with it but thrilled about it - was too much.

You were so overwhelmed that tears began to stream down your cheeks. When Gibbs saw this, he pulled you tightly into his arms and rocked you gently.

“Shhh… it’s okay… everything’s okay… I’m here with you and I’m never leaving. I’m here… shhh,” he whispered repeatedly.

He held you like that for several minutes until you slowly calmed down. Carefully, you pulled away from him, sobbing softly.

“I love you. Oh God, I love you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Breathing heavily, he broke the kiss, released your embrace, and took your hands in his.

"You still need to rest. You have a mild concussion and bruises."

"So that explains the pain."

"Yes."

"When can I go home?"

"Tomorrow, my love. Tomorrow."

He kissed your hands. "And then our life together will finally begin."

“I’m really looking forward to it,” you whispered, and drifted off again. 

Your dreams showed you and Jethro with your children in your home together - so much joy and happiness…if only it were true…

(To be continued in Chapter 49.)

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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

View: Gibbs' POV

Warnings: smut!!!! +18 readers only 🥵🥵🔥🔥

My problem with you wasn't that you were good at your job, because you were brilliant. My problem was the way you commanded attention the moment you appeared anywhere. Even when you walked into a crime scene, the grim reality of a crime seemed to fade away for a moment.

And I, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the man who prided himself on never losing control, had to fight the urge every time to just push you against the nearest wall and give free rein to my desires. Because seeing you every day made it increasingly difficult for me to control myself. You seemed to sense this, and I was almost certain you were doing it on purpose - to throw me off balance.

Because every time you came close to me, it got worse. My self-control crumbled so much that I felt like a Neanderthal.

And in the last few days you have obviously launched a full-scale attack on me, because I could think of no other explanation for the way you’ve been acting toward me.

It rained on Tuesday, but we tracked a suspect to an abandoned factory site. Luckily, he was stupid enough to leave us clues in the form of a cartridge case. Careful not to disturb any evidence, you knelt over it. Your damp hair clung to the back of your neck, emphasizing the slender line of your neck I so desperately wanted to kiss.

When I stepped beside you, you looked up. Your gaze immediately met mine. It was intense, and your eyes sparkled with adrenaline. Rarely had the search for clues been so thrilling. And rarely had a look hit me like a blow, making my heart pound with anticipation.

"Gibbs, I've got the trail. He came this way," you said, and stood up with such force that you bumped right into my chest. Surprised, I wrapped my arms around you, pulling you close.

My pulse quickened, and my body registered your every move with perfect awareness. I made no move to let go, and you didn't budge either. On the contrary, you placed a hand on my lapel and pulled me closer.

"Are you coming with me, or do you need a written invitation?"

Your words were barely more than a whisper, yet so seductive and full of implication that I had to swallow hard to keep from immediately giving in to your invitation. I could feel the heat of your body through my jacket. My jaw tightened.

"Focus on the evidence, not on me," I replied sarcastically, my heartbeat still racing dangerously fast. I gripped your upper arm firmly, ostensibly to push you aside - but for a split second, my thumbs brushed against your soft skin. A sensation I'll certainly never forget.

My usually confident voice sounded as if it hadn't been used in years when I cleared my throat and instructed you, "Move."

We went back to work, but I struggled to forget the sight of your sensual lips and the feel of your soft body - at least long enough to do my job.

But if I thought that was a test… I was proven wrong the following evening.

It happened in the office, late at night. Everyone had already left. Only the two of us were still there, working overtime - as usual. It was quiet; only the hum of the computers and the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard.

I was sitting at my desk, reading a case file, when you suddenly appeared behind me. Without a word, you placed your hands on me and began massaging my tense shoulders. Your grip was firm and incredibly experienced. I wondered who you had massaged before? Your boyfriends, I was sure of it. And I felt jealousy rising within me at that thought.

"You're completely exhausted, Gibbs," you whispered in my ear. Your breath tickled my skin, and I closed my eyes for a moment.

"Relax," you urged me gently.

I grabbed your wrists and swiveled in my chair. "I'm not your project," I growled, holding you right in front of me. You were standing between my knees, the distance between us practically nonexistent.

The atmosphere heated up and began to crackle. I even caught your scent - vanilla. It really suited you.

"No, you're not," you said bravely, leaning forward until our noses touched. "You're just too stubborn to admit that you want me as much as I want you."

I stared into your eyes, my resistance hanging by a thread, my body having other ideas. “I don’t have time for games,” I said dryly, but my gaze slid to your lips.

“Who’s talking about games?” you retorted. You gave me a quick, tender kiss at the corner of my mouth - a sweet torment that nearly drove me mad. I released your wrists and gestured toward the elevator. “Go home. Before I do something we’d both… enjoy.”

You pouted and walked away, your hips swaying seductively. I longed to pull you back into my arms and capture your lips in a passionate kiss. I wanted you to know I wasn't joking and what you were getting yourself into with me. But I did none of that and just watched you go, utterly frustrated, trying to convince myself and my cock that this wasn't going to happen.

Two hours later, I was standing in my basement, seeking peace and oblivion in the scent of sawdust and sanding wood, when the basement door opened. You came down the stairs, determined and purposeful. Somehow, I'd already expected you to keep bothering me. And your gaze confirmed my suspicion. Your visit was purely private, and you wanted to end our cat-and-mouse game once and for all.

"You escaped me, Gibbs. But there are no ranks down here," you said, practically charging at me. You grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me hard. You obviously knew exactly what you were doing and what the consequences would be. This time, there was no turning back.

The kiss was like an explosion. All the suppressed desire of the past weeks erupted in a passionate battle of our lips. It was a deep, hungry, and wild kiss that tasted of longing and bourbon.

You pulled me closer to you by the collar, into your embrace. Then my restraint vanished. The moment I gave in was like a dam breaking. You gently bit my lower lip and tugged at it before your tongue found mine.

In that moment, I realized I was only human too - and I had fought against my feelings for you long enough. That was over now.

I lifted you as if you weighed nothing and set you down hard on my workbench, carelessly sweeping aside tools and plans. My kisses grew harder, more passionate, almost possessive. I dug my hands into your hair and pulled your head back slightly, exposing your neck, and marked it with hot, wet kisses. You moaned my name - a sound that wiped out what little self-control I had left.

It was hot, wild, and primal. There were no more elegant words, only the desire to feel each other.

"Enough talk," I whispered against your lips before kissing you again - this time even more dominantly, more demandingly.

Burning desire took over. I ripped at your blouse, the buttons flying across the floor, while your hands frantically tugged at my belt, finally unbuckling it. This wasn't a tentative introduction; it was a conquest. I tossed my shirt off, carelessly throwing it to the ground. My hands traced the silky contours of your thighs, eventually pushing your skirt up.

Your hands were everywhere - on my back, in my hair - digging into my skin as if to ensure I wouldn't slip away again. We were a whirlwind of skin and desire. And beyond all reason.

(To be continued in Chapter 2.)

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Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

View: Gibbs' POV

Warnings: none

As if I seriously thought this would go unnoticed.

The moment I walked into the office with a wedding ring on my finger was about as inconspicuous as a jackhammer in a library.

I'd barely taken two steps when I heard the first whispers.

"Did you see that?"

"Is that... a ring?"

"Oh my God, Gibbs is married?!"

I sat down at my desk, put down my coffee, and pretended to read a report. In reality, I was just waiting to see how long it would take them.

Spoiler alert: Not long.

"Boss?" McGee asked cautiously.

I didn't look up. "Yes, McGee."

"Um... hypothetically speaking... if someone on the team suddenly... got married... would we find out?"

"Depends," I said dryly. "If it's any of your business."

Silence.

Then Abby, from the back: "IT'S A RING!"

I looked up. The whole team was staring at my left hand as if I'd suddenly grown a third eye there.

"You guys have work to do," I said calmly.

"Boss..." DiNozzo began with a wide grin. "That's a wedding ring."

I examined him briefly. “Impressive, DiNozzo. You can recognize jewelry.”

"You got married!" Abby exclaimed.

"Possibly."

"WHO?!" half the office asked simultaneously.

I took a sip of coffee. "Someone."

You could have heard a pin drop.

The next few days were... interesting. The team transformed into a mix of investigators and nosy neighbors.

Abby compiled a "Top 10 List of Possible Mysterious Wives."

DiNozzo bet ten dollars that she was an international spy.

McGee seriously thought I'd secretly gotten married in Vegas - again.

Ziva just watched me.

"You seem... content," she said once.

I shrugged. "It happens."

I grinned inwardly. If only they knew.

Because the really funny thing was: they all already knew you. Very well, in fact. And that's exactly why they'd never suspect you.

A week later, the bomb dropped.

It was a normal morning. McGee was typing away, DiNozzo was pestering him, and Abby burst into the office with an oversized cup of Caf-Pow.

I was leaning against my desk when the elevator doors opened and you stepped into the bullpen. For a moment, no one said anything. You glanced around, smiled warmly, and gave a gentle wave.

"Hi everyone."

Four heads turned at once. And then came the first reaction.

"OH!" Abby called out cheerfully. "You're back!"

McGee smiled too. "Hey! Long time no see."

DiNozzo grinned. "Well, if it isn't our favorite—"

Then he stopped. His gaze shifted to me. Then to you. Then back to me. Slowly. Very slowly.

You approached me, completely relaxed. As if you showed up here every day - which you often used to do.

You used to be a regular at the office - as an intern in the forensic department with Abby. You'd worked here for a few months, sorting files, transporting evidence, and occasionally helping with cases.

The team always liked you. You were friendly, smart… and sometimes a little chaotic.

But above all, you had a special quality: You weren't afraid of me at all.

While others were getting nervous, you simply looked at me and said what you thought.

At first, that confused me. Then impressed me. And at some point… it became more.

But nobody here knew that.

You stopped in front of me and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Then you cupped my cheek and kissed me. Not fleeting. Not shy. But slow, warm, and deep. Your lips moved gently against mine, and somewhere behind us, Abby squealed.”

When we broke apart, I looked into your face.

“You’re too early,” I murmured.

“You said I should come over.”

“I meant later.”

You shrugged. “I was curious.”

I turned to the team. Four people looked as if someone had just reprogrammed their reality.

Abby pointed at you. “YOU?!”

McGee looked at me as if I'd just announced I was moving to Mars. "Boss..."

DiNozzo was completely speechless. "Wait," he finally said. "Wait. Wait."

He pointed first at you. Then at me. "You two...?!"

I folded my arms. "Surprise."

You smiled innocently. "We've known each other for a while."

"A while?" I said dryly. "A year."

McGee sat down slowly. "A year?! But you were only here for a few months!"

"We stayed in touch after that," you said.

"Stayed in touch," DiNozzo repeated. "So that's what they call it these days."

Ziva stood calmly, smiling slightly. "I was wondering when you'd tell them."

I raised an eyebrow. "You knew?"

"Of course."

DiNozzo pointed at her dramatically. "Traitor!"

You laughed softly as I placed a hand on your back and pulled you closer to me.

"So," I said to the team, "the mystery is solved."

"That wasn't a mystery," DiNozzo protested. "That was psychological warfare and torture."

"You're still alive."

A few minutes later, the office transformed into an interrogation room.

"How did that happen?!" Abby asked excitedly.

You looked at me, and I sighed. "She spilled coffee all over my shirt."

"It was an accident!"

"You ran into me."

"You stopped!"

DiNozzo grinned. "Romantic."

I looked at you. You were standing among my team, laughing, familiar, as if you'd never really left.

I placed a hand at the back of your neck and pulled you closer. “Come here.” I whispered.

You didn’t protest, despite our audience. This time, the kiss was even slower. Even more tender. Your fingers slid into my hair, and in the background I heard someone let out a dramatic groan.

"I think I'm getting sick," DiNozzo said.

I looked at him. "Try it."

A few months later…the team had long since gotten used to it. You came by often - sometimes with coffee, sometimes just to pick me up.

Abby had practically rehired you, McGee was asking you for relationship advice, and DiNozzo was still claiming to be "emotionally traumatized."

Every evening you wait for me in our house. And every time I open the door and see you, I know:

The ring wasn't the most surprising thing.

YOU were.

And honestly?

You're the best thing that ever happened to me.

The End

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

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: none

“Are YOU Y/N’s husband?” the woman asked, looking at Gibbs in astonishment.

“Yes, I am. And who are you?”

“I’m Rachel Thompson. A close friend of your wife.”

He offered her his uninjured hand, which she immediately took and shook.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson.”

She laughed. “Ms. Thompson. I’m no longer married. But please call me Rachel.”

He smiled: “Nice to meet you, Rachel.”

There was a brief, awkward pause as she studied him. Then she cautiously spoke again.

“I’m so glad you came…but tell me…the way you just fought for your family…I honestly can’t imagine that you don’t love Y/N.”

Gibbs thought he must have misheard, he was so taken aback.

“How did you come up with something like that?” 

She felt a little awkward, but knew she owed him an explanation.

"Y/N and I met at the airport in Washington, D.C., and became friends. She fled here to Frisco when she found out she was pregnant, because she thinks you don't love her."

Gibbs looked at her in silence, and a chill ran through him. How could you think such a thing about him? His heart belonged only to you - to you and the children you were carrying. He absolutely had to talk to you about this. As soon as possible, before you ran away again…which, strictly speaking, is actually HIS usual reaction. But not this time. No, this time he's running into life's complications with open arms - and is even looking forward to them.

When there was no outward reaction from him, Rachel cleared her throat, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I let it slip. You weren’t supposed to know she’s pregnant,” she said, worried by his reaction.

But he just laughed freely. “Don’t worry, a friend already told me, and I’m so happy about it. I couldn’t imagine better news!”

She looked at him in surprise at first, but then relief washed over her. Relief and joy for you, because she liked your husband immediately and thought you two made a wonderful couple. Maybe everything will turn out alright after all.

“Shall we visit her?” Gibbs asked, gesturing down the hall, but Rachel declined.

“You certainly have a lot to talk about. Give her my regards. I’ll stop by again tomorrow.”

Gibbs promised to let her know if anything changed regarding your condition in the meantime, and Rachel hugged him.

Then she walked away with a grin and drove home, knowing you would be well cared for.

She was certain that he truly loved you and would take good care of you, because she had seen it in his bright blue eyes. She was a little sorry that this sexy silver fox was already taken, but she genuinely wished you both happiness.

Meanwhile Gibbs finally set off to see you. With every step, his excitement grew. His heart raced, and his palms became sweaty. In a few seconds, he would finally be with you again. But how would you react when you saw him?

He reached your room, opened the door, and went inside. Silence. Only the beeping of the monitor could be heard, and your doctor was checking your vital signs.

When he saw Jethro, he smiled. "Everything's fine. She's still unconscious, but otherwise, she's doing well. We expect her to wake up soon."

With that, he left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

Gibbs slowly walked over to your bed. Inside him, conflicting emotions were raging—fear that you might never wake up, that you might not want to see him, and at the same time joy at finally being able to see you again and be by your side. He wished he could share these feelings with you, because his inner balance felt completely shaken. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, openly confess his love, and even start thinking about names for your future children together.

But all of that had to wait. So he sat down by your bed, took your hand in his, and waited. The outside world, your jobs, Jenny, the assassin… none of it mattered. Only you and the children growing inside you mattered. His family.

While waiting, he gazed reverently at the small bump on your belly. Fascinated, he placed his hand on it and gently stroked it. You had created these two lives together. It seemed like a miracle to him. He was going to be a father again! A smile crept onto his face. Warm, soft, and full of pure happiness.

He was going to be a father. To the woman he loved so much. He kissed your belly lovingly and began talking to your children. He told them everything that came to mind, and he didn't care if they understood him. He just wanted them to hear his voice. To feel that he was there and would never leave.

But then the monitoring device sounded an alarm, because your blood pressure dropped.

(To be continued in Chapter 48.)

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