#saraluvstiva
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fall into me, my love.
Summary: I rewrote the end of Housekeeping! In my world, Ray never calls, Ziva answers his question, they go to the bar and decide to stop wasting so much time. Closing one chapter and preparing to start anew.
AO3
Word Count: ~2.8K
Prompt: This is based on a post by the lovely @saraluvstiva! It’s a tad different from what you suggested (a little heavier than a casual convo), but it mostly aligns I think. Hope you enjoy!
@saraluvstiva imagined a scenario in which Ray never called, they went to the bar, reminisced about their growth and their relationship--“a sweet little time...both closing their previous chapters (or considering it) and looking to [possibly] the future chapter with each other.”
Hope was a dangerous thing.
There was a reason he never let himself think about her like that. Not seriously, anyway. And not in a very, very, very long time.
“I’m not talking about movies, Tony. I’m talking about you. She cares.”
He had reverted back to the standard old lines, then, and scoffed about how they were partners and teammates who had each other’s backs. Those lines were good. They protected him and their relationship. He told himself for years that anything else between them would be unthinkable. Inappropriate. Comical, even.
Yeah, right.
Her words, simple yet bold, took hold in his mind and wouldn’t let up.
They hit him when he was woefully unequipped to fend them off as he usually did. There was a crack in his armor, in the wall he built around himself to protect the both of them. It had been breaking slowly, really, ever since they brought her back from the dead in Somalia. It almost shattered completely after he was shot a few months ago and faced the prospect of dying without ever telling her. He was more fragile than ever these days, too, since falling out with EJ and painfully watching his partner hurt over another, undeserving man.
And so, when he heard EJ talk about her like that, the possibility of more seeped through the cracks and into his heart. It coaxed his feelings to the surface, fully awakening what he had known yet staunchly denied for years.
He loved her.
Admitting it to himself was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Give him a burning building, a terrorist, a raging gunman, or a bomb on a timer—fine—he could handle that. That was easy—relatively. But love? The old Anthony DiNozzo didn’t do love.
There was just something about her—the complex dichotomies of softness and strength, of love and hurt, of anger and loyalty—that fascinated him, pulling him to her like gravity. She was an enigma that only he seemed to truly understand; and damnit, he wanted to spend the rest of his life unlocking the key to her soul. She made him better, too—pushing him to open up and grow up, never taking his crap, molding him slowly into half the man she actually deserved.
Despite how hard she tried to hide it, he knew she had strong feelings for him too. He could see it in the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention—adoringly and longingly, as if imagining a world in which they could actually be something. He felt it in the way she stole soft and lingering touches, standing closer than necessary on an almost daily basis; and he heard it when she talked to him—sometimes concernedly, sometimes flirtatiously, sometimes even annoyedly, but always with love.
Denying how he felt about her was making less and less sense to him by the minute these days. He was filled with regret for wasted time and, still, fear of damaging their bond. But most of all, he was filled with a deep-seated ache for her. For all of her. And for the first time, the latter was starting to win.
Hearing EJ’s words was the final nail in the coffin, if he was honest with himself. They were validation that it wasn’t all in his head. They gave him hope—and with it, a touch of recklessness, encouraging him to ignore the fear for once and play with the fire that is Ziva David. It had been about seven years, after all. If not now, then when?
“Agent David. Do you really consider me to be…in your life?”
His eyes glistened with a mix of hope, boldness, and vulnerability. He watched her carefully as she processed his verbal challenge, seeing how she’d react—if she’d push them closer to the edge or rein him in.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, taken aback by his question. Instinctually, she opened her mouth to disarm the situation, as they usually did whenever the other got too close to the truth.
The look of adoration in his eyes made her pause, though. Ray’s communication and commitment issues served as a strong contrast to the man in front of her, who listened to and supported her whether or not she asked.
She was tired of waiting seven weeks for a man who claimed to love her, when the one she could not live without was standing right in front of her. She was tired of being treated like an afterthought. She was tired of it all. She was so tired, in fact, that she decided to cut the double entendres and answer him honestly. He deserved that, at the very least.
“I do.”
His smile grew brighter, then, and she couldn’t help but return it. He reached out and softly grazed her arm. It was fleeting, another test. A small thrill ran through her as she wondered what had gotten into him, and she raised her eyebrows in silent question.
“Let’s go get that drink.”
---
“Admit it. You never liked her,” Tony teased as he downed the last of his beer and gestured for another. They sat in a corner booth in a dimly lit bar that neither frequented. On some level, she hoped he chose it exactly for that reason—to make sure they weren’t interrupted by someone they knew, or to mark the beginning of…something. Of them. Maybe.
“Who?” she asked playfully.
“EJ,” he replied, calling her bluff by the look on his face.
“Oh. Her.”
“Yeah, her. You didn’t exactly welcome her with open arms. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Let’s just say that I am glad she is gone.”
“Why?”
She hesitated briefly, contemplating, before she responded.
“She is not good enough for you.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Maybe she was right after all.”
“Right about what?”
Tony smiled a bit nervously and took another sip of his drink as Ziva waited, watching him closely with that look. He could just tell her about the movie aspect of the conversation. It wouldn’t be a lie, really, and it would keep them safely within their bounds. But he was sick of the games, of the walls. Plus, he was a little bit tipsy.
He decided to go for it. Throw it out into the open. Play with the fire.
“When we were at the safe house, she said that you care. About me.”
"Wow, such an astute observation by a brilliant, brilliant woman,” she said, rolling her eyes. Tony chuckled at her brashness, reminiscent of how she was when they first met. But he said nothing, wanting to hear her real response.
“Of course I do, Tony,” she said eventually with a soft smile on her face. “You are my partner.”
“Right,” he said, deflated.
“And sometimes,” she continued breathily, finally feeling the effects of her third drink. “You are even my friend.”
“Wow,” he said, cracking a smile and accepting her amended answer—for now. “I’m honored.”
“You should be.”
He laughed, and she did too.
And, he was.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“We have indeed. It is a miracle, really, given how intimidated you were when we first met.”
“I was not!” he exclaimed, knowing full well that she was right. Not that he’d ever admit it. “If anyone was intimidated, it was you.”
“Tony,” she said amusedly. “I know you.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “I suppose you do.”
She shot him a genuine smile; a happy and peaceful look graced her features.
“Seriously though, Tony. I think we’ve both grown quite a bit.”
“We most certainly have,” he laughed. “Remember when you secretly tried Air Guitar?”
Her mouth dropped. “How did you know about that?!”
“When you uploaded it later that night, my computer saved a copy.”
“Oh, sure it did. Just like it autonomously saved those bikini photos, yes?”
“Exactly,” he replied, winking at her.
“You also posted your ass on that stupid website.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, cringing at the memory. “But, you rated it.”
“A 2.”
“A 5, if I remember correctly.”
“Only if you shaved.”
They laughed, enjoying their banter. She took another swing of her drink, reflecting on how far they’d come over the years—how close they’d gotten. When she had first arrived at NCIS, she thought he was a womanizing goofball, a hormonal teenager in an adult’s body—albeit, an attractive body. As the years went on, though, he snuck by her well-built defenses and managed to take up residence inside her heart. She still wasn’t quite sure how he did so, as no other man had been able to break into her life like that.
And now? After everything they had been through together, she was tired of pretending. She knew she loved him, and that he knew too. They basically admitted as much back in Africa—him to her face, and her to the journals she kept in her office. They’d been dancing around each other for years, backing away whenever someone got too close. Part of it was, of course, not wanting to jeopardize their partnership.
But truthfully, she knew that was bullshit.
She was scared. She was scared of losing him. Everyone she had ever loved up to this point died, sometimes even in her arms. He was the most important person in the world to her, and the thought of something happening to him because of her was almost too much to bear.
But then, something did happen to him. He almost died. And it had nothing to do with her.
She wasn’t even there to protect him.
That night had shaken her to the core; it forced her to question all the reasons she had been keeping him at arm’s length, never letting him in for more than a few blissful moments. She still tried to distance herself and make it work with Ray; but, she was reminded of her losing battle whenever she saw him looking at her like she was the only thing on Earth that mattered.
The fear of him dying without ever telling him the truth had finally eclipsed her fear of losing him.
She wanted to stop pretending, finally. She suspected he did too, based on their interactions today.
They just couldn't waste any more time.
“I have a question.”
“Shoot,” he answered. “Figuratively, of course.”
She giggled. Actually giggled. God, how he loved that sound.
“Of all the ones we have worked on together, what has been your favorite case?”
“Oh, tough one David,” he grinned.
“Really?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “We, uh…we make a good team. There have been a lot of good ones.”
“True,” she said, smiling softly.
“If you force my hand, though, I’d have to say Paris. It is a magical place,” he said with a flirtatious lilt in his voice and a knowing smirk.
“I should have guessed,” she replied. “I loved…Paris, too.”
He raised his eyebrows at her comment; she returned the gesture.
“And you?”
She bit her lip, debating whether she should tell him the truth. This was her chance. She was still scared, but she was also a little drunk by now, and hell, she honestly wanted him to know.
She wanted him to know everything.
“Well,” she began with a small smile on her face. “I liked them all. Or, most of them, like you. We make even the toughest cases enjoyable, when we work together.”
He smiled, opening his mouth to respond before she cut him off.
“But, to be perfectly honest with you,” she continued, boldly meeting his eyes. “My favorite was when we were under covers.”
"I think you mean undercover.”
She clucked her tongue playfully and softly touched his hand, drawing small circles and shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
Tony’s eyes widened at her openly flirting with him as she smiled suggestively. He hadn’t seen this side of her, directed at him, in years. His mind was going a mile a minute trying to process it and what it meant for them. If it meant anything at all.
Taking one look at her eyes, though, he knew it meant something. It meant something big. Her eyes always spoke the truth—when it came to him, anyway.
She was pleased with herself. She managed to tell him while still giving him an out, if he wanted. She spoke their coded tongue.
Doing cartwheels in his head, he grinned back at her and boldly turned his hand over to take hold of hers, interlacing their fingers. He couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he wanted to do that.
He saw a flash of fear and surprise cross her eyes before being quickly replaced with something that could only be described as contentment.
“I wonder what it would be like if we did that again sometime. Went undercover, I mean,” he said, testing the waters with insinuations and metaphors just as she did. That was their language. If they were to even begin talking about the possibility of them, they both knew this was the easiest way to do it. At first, anyway.
She opened her mouth but said nothing at first, thinking of the best response. She felt the room’s temperature rise as he reciprocated her subtle advances and pushed her further.
She would not be outdone.
“I’d like that. We would be…good at it, too.”
He raised his eyebrows with a sly smile on his face.
“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.”
“Ray? Oh, he is done. As soon as I talk to him, I am ending it.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She looked at him more seriously now, with a hint of curiosity.
"He isn’t good enough for you.”
She smiled, touched by his admission.
This was it.
The dance was ending.
---
“You didn’t have to walk me home, Tony. I am fine.”
“I know you are,” he replied. “But, I’m a DiNozzo. We are gentlemen.”
She laughed, sarcastic comment on the tip of her tongue. She held it, though, not wanting to ruin the moment.
He pulled her a little closer, then. Her arm was tucked into his as they walked down the cold sidewalk, street glistening with the light of the stars and the snow flurries that started to fall.
“I had fun tonight.”
“Me too,” he said honestly.
As they approached her apartment, his heart raced faster. With EJ gone, Ray practically a done deal, their earlier conversations and the buzz in their systems, it seemed the perfect time to ask, if he was ever going to do so.
Would it ruin everything?
Or…would it be everything?
What the hell. He loved her.
He wiped his clammy hands on his coat and took the shot.
“I would, uh, like to do it again sometime. If you want. For…for real.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him, a silent question in her eyes.
His own tried desperately to answer.
Yes.
“After you break up with him.”
Understanding flashed across her face, to be quickly replaced with a dash of fear. He could see her wheels turning.
He could feel his own fear rising as he watched her. She saw it, though, and immediately softened her gaze, comforting him.
Placing a hand on his chest, she felt his heart race.
She smiled softly, making her choice. It was time to stop the game.
“I’d like that too.”
“Well then,” he said, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It’s a date.”
She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, her other hand moving to his neck. His heart beat even faster as her touch lingered on his skin, leaving its mark. Claiming him.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
She held his gaze for a moment, delicately caressing his face before starting the ascent to her door.
“Ziva,” he said loudly.
She turned around to face him, at the top of the stairs now.
“Yes?”
“I’m happy you’re in my life, too.”
She nodded, smiling as she recalled their earlier conversation. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Good night, Tony. Text me when you get home.”
“I will. Good night.”
She lingered a few moments more, staring into him before stepping inside.
In all of the years they spent working together, that was the first time she asked that of him. It wasn’t at all necessary—they both knew it—but it was loving. Another metaphor.
He could get used to this.
#tiva#tiva fanfiction#ncis#ziva david#anthony dinozzo#fanfiction#my fanfiction#saraluvstiva#i don't really know lol#not used to writing them non-canon#lol imagine that!#anyways#hope y'all like it#kristen says things
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🌹
Sara, you faaab ❤︎ thank you, dear!!!
“You never heard of Hocus Pocus?!” Tony exclaimed, shooting her a disapproving glare. “That’s a disgrace,” he huffed. “You’re more of an embarrassment than I thought.”
for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a WIP i’m currently writing
#ask#from the big project i was telling you about 👀#expect fall-themed shenanigans 🎃#thank you dear!!!!#have a lovely night ❤︎#saraluvstiva
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saraluvstiva replied to your post “reposted gifs suck and you need to stop doing it”
Hi!! I was wondering if you could explain how someone (me) might know if we are doing this or not doing this? I know making gifs is not easy and I want to make sure I give credit and am being respectful to users who take time to make them! I also don’t know how to use gifs all that well and have noticed that my selection is very limited.
okay so @saraluvstiva asked me this and i rambled out a very bad answer in the replies lol so i’m gonna answer it again here with some pictures to demonstrate what i mean lmao words are hard i’m deep in academic description for uni i can’t make sentence
but thank you for wanting to credit people!! that’s awesome!
first, i think everyone’s totally fine with people reposting gifs as reaction gifs and not crediting the op. we all forget where reaction gifs came from, they’re just in a giant folder on our computers that we’ve had since 2010. in that case, a gif of a character sobbing on a reblog of an emotional text post or a cute gif of someone smiling under a nice ask, i think we can all say we’re pretty cool with
what’s annoying, is when people actively repost gifs as photo posts with no credit, and kinda imply they made the gif. if you don’t recognise the gif then it’s easy to mistake it for the reposter’s, rather than someone else’s that they’ve taken. it’s frustrating whether it’s one gif just posted and captioned like the reposter made the gif, or a whole hodgepodge of gifs taken from many original gifsets and squished together despite mismatching height, colour, style, etc. the worst is when someone reposts a gif with a watermark, i’m like, uh we can see that, and yet reposters and even just people who reblog it who don’t notice the watermark are like wow what a gif
in all of these, the main issue anyone has with reposting is the lack of credit. which is super easy to do!!
so, for instance:
the gif is posted as a photo post, with no credit given, and the caption implies that the reposter made the gif because they noticed the thing. even without the caption, there’s no disclaimer that the gif isn’t the reposter’s.
a nicer way to repost would be:
ie, crediting the original poster, but also making the gif part of a text post, rather than a photo post in which, say, someone reblogging and commenting “hey, that’s my gif”, can be missed due to original reblogs preceding it and the blank repost going around first (this can still happen on text posts obvs, but the person shouldn’t need to comment if they’ve been credited lol)
also, it’s so much easier to just reblog gifsets than repost them! i’m not saying this to people who occasionally post a gif uncredited i mean people i see who repeatedly repost and repost and i know they’re getting the gifs from the original blog. reblog = one button. just one. boop, it’s done. to repost means you save it, you upload it, you tag and caption and pretend it’s yours, and then you post. it’s so much effort, and often, at least i can tell right away. like, i can spot an @alyssinmymind or a @classydepablo gif in a second. they have distinct styles i can identify super quickly, so if i see their gifs coming from another blog and people are thinking the reposter made the gif, i know it’s not right.
and a final thing in terms of how you can know if someone’s reposted; if you’re not sure if a gif is a repost or not, the best thing to do is check the person’s post and look at their tags. most gifmakers use tv edit tags ie “#ncisedit”, and a personal edit tag ie “#mine” or “’#mygifs” or sometimes just an asterisk. if you’re still not sure, it’s not always a surefire way, but look at the gifs they’ve posted. if they all look similar in colour, captioning, sharpening, they’ve probably all been made by the same person; if they have variations, so, some are captioned in a totally different font, some are very smooth while some are really grainy, and they don’t have an edit tag, they’re very probably a reposter.
i hope this makes it clearer!! i said the word reposter a billion times and got a bit carried away, but truthfully, as a gifmaker it’s really frustrating to both have your stuff stolen and see other people’s stuff stolen, but as someone who also used tumblr as a complete newbie with no photoshop skills, i also reposted gifs uncredited because i wanted to contribute to the fandom and didn’t know how else to do it. and i soon realised it’s pretty sucky and the original posts have 1,000 notes there’s really no point in trying to pretend i made them lmao
anyway just
be chill, don’t repost, we’re all here for tony and ziva
#saraluvstiva#i still rambled i'm sorry!!! seriously thank you for asking and i really appreciate your effort to credit people and learn <3#and nope i don't know where that last gif came from lmao my point about reaction images is proved
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9, 10, 17, 32 :))
9: What’s a little thing in life that you love?
Good weather, beautiful skies. Just like today, we got cotton candy sky when the sun’s going down. And last month I saw rainbow twice!
10: Favorite color aesthetic?
Blue, blue is forever my favourite colour so no doubt. I also like the pastel pansexual colours very much coz it’s my orientation!
17: What’s your favorite season and favorite month in that season?
Autumn, cool and dry, the light breeze 😍 And November is my favourite in the season coz in Hong Kong September and October can still be hot
32: Do you like watching holiday movies?
I do!! Altho it’s a more recent thing, but i had a lot of fun watching Christmas movies with my Bestie in Canada while I was back visiting her!!
Thanks Sara! 💚
Lovely calm asks
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august slipped away into a moment in time
first in an unknown number of fics based around lyrics from Folklore. you know I had to do it to em. taylor really said 'summer of secret sex’ rights with this one
dedicated to folklore stans @indestinatus and @saraluvstiva <3
read in full on ao3
-----
“Excuse me?”
It took Ziva a couple of seconds to register the new person stood in the bullpen, looking between her, McGee, and Lee with confusion.
“Can I help you?” The newly senior-ised McGee eventually responded after a pause to ‘um’. Apparently it wasn’t just Ziva who was feeling the effects of a busy couple of days.
"Where's Special Agent Gibbs?"
Though she’d tried to return to her work, the question instinctively made her look back up. "Not here. Who are you?”
“FBI Special Agent Kyle Miller. Can I leave a message?"
Ziva and McGee shared a look.
"He doesn't work here anymore."
"Wait, what?"
"Uh-huh. He's retired."
Ziva was still watching but couldn’t see the man’s face now he’d turned to face McGee. She could sense his exaggerated reaction, though, even from just the back of him. "Re- god, man. Sure that's gonna last, huh?"
"Oh, I think he's serious about it."
"Yeah, but, c'mon. It's Gibbs. He'll be back."
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Things at NCIS that rough?”
“Can we do something for you?” Ziva eventually butted in curtly, the agent’s obnoxious tone very swiftly beginning to grate as he tried to make inside jokes about something he had no knowledge of. He turned around to face her and she leaned forward in her chair, hoping to encourage him from pushing the issue any further. As it was, he barely acknowledged her before turning his back to her again. Misogyny or plain-old arrogance, at this point it was hard to tell.
"Who's in charge around here?"
"I am." Tony swept into the room self-aggrandising, coffee in hand and stance confident. "Who's asking?"
"Miller. FBI. I was just saying to these guys, no way it'll last, right? Gibbs?"
Miller was frustratingly insistent, a painful smile on his face as he nodded and looked for backup. A remarkable inability to read the room.
"What do you want, Miller?"
Tony’s tone was harsh, and it finally seemed to crack Miller’s bizarre insistence. If he’d heard of Gibbs, maybe he’d heard of Tony too, and perhaps the reception was jarring. He blinked. "I- Gibbs asked me for updates on our triple homicide."
"Alright, shoot."
“It’s not an NCIS case, Sir. Gibbs just wanted to keep up with what was going on.”
“If it was his business, it’s my business.”
Tony was being curt and terse, and usually Ziva would call him out on it but today she could understand. She wondered how it must feel – to be constantly reminded that you’re second best. She’d been lucky, in a way, that she had seemingly been so different to Kate that the comparisons between them hadn’t lasted long. It had been three months and people still hadn’t given up reminding Tony that they expected someone else to be sat in his chair.
Perhaps that was the reason she felt such a loyalty to him now. Not just crafted from a year of working as partners, but from seeing every day how hard he had been fighting to make all of this work.
While Miller stuttered through explanations of trace evidence to a stony-faced Tony, his desk phone started ringing.
Ziva pushed past Tony to his phone, feeling his thighs tight in his jeans as she brushed along.
She tuned out his ongoing conversation with the FBI as she listened. Their victim's car had just been found, half an hour’s drive from their body. She hung up and found Tony’s eyes settling on her immediately, a quiet pleading that suggested he was desperate for the type of phone-call they’d just received.
“We need to go.” Was the only explanation she gave as Miller looked between them.
“Duty calls. Thanks for keeping us updated.” Tony nodded at Miller, a little more placid now but still clearly feeling the need to prove himself. Miller ducked his head as he headed back off towards the elevator.
------------
Tony was quiet and professional for the rest of the afternoon. Ziva wasn’t sure if nobody else had noticed or if they’d decided to ignore it for the chance at an easy life, but she found her eyes drawn back to him repeatedly.
It hadn't been an easy ride. Far from it. She knew the thought of Gibbs coming back was never far from his mind, either. She wondered if he knew more about it than he was letting on. He surprised her, sometimes, with his ability to keep his cards close to his chest.
When they got back from seeing the car, which they’d quickly established wasn’t the crime scene given the lack of blood in the area, Tony had sent McGee and Lee back to the body dump site to see if they’d missed anything. The two of them had continued to work silently, going over witness statements and digging into the victim’s background with still very little to go on.
They got out of the office almost on-time for once, and Ziva threw Tony a look over her shoulder as they walked in opposite directions in the parking lot. He nodded and smiled at her, a little, but she wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
continue reading on ao3
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For Once in My Life
Cooking together with wine, music, and only half dressed... life in Paris, reunited at last, isn't half bad.
Friend drabble series part four, for @saraluvstiva!
___________________
“We should do something on Friday night, Ziva,” Tony suggests out of the blue one day.
“Why this Friday specifically? Do we have an anniversary that I have forgotten?” Ziva wants to know. They have a lot of them, because they don’t take anything for granted these days. They like to memorialize the day they met, the day Ziva came home for good, the day Ziva was liberated from Somalia, the day they moved from their old flat to a bigger one. Then, of course, there are the usual excuses to celebrate: birthdays, their wedding anniversary, any and all major holidays—French, American, and Israeli.
Basically, they find it absolutely necessary to honor this second (third, fourth) chance at happiness whenever they can.
“Not that I can think of. It’s just that Tali’s going to be sleeping over at Violette’s house then, and we so rarely get to do things just the two of us.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Their eyes meet, and they share feral grins that make it very clear just what they’re both thinking. They are who they are
What they’re both thinking is sex somewhere other than behind the closed door of their bedroom. Somewhere exciting. Somewhere they can spice it up.
Somewhere like the living room sofa.
___________________
They do exactly as they planned, and it’s glorious.
Afterwards, they lounge lazily on the sofa, tangled comfortably together to avoid falling off, and they talk about nothing important. The pull to have real adult conversation—which honestly just means swearing—is entirely too strong, and for once, they don’t even turn on a movie. They just chat, and hold onto one another, and salute these happy days.
Eventually, Tony’s stomach growls loudly enough that Ziva can feel its vibrations, though, and she laughs. “There is a bear inside of you and he is not happy,” she says in amusement. “Perhaps we should feed him.”
She carefully sits up, thinking idly that they really need a larger sofa. They’re not quite as young or quite as nimble as they used to be.
“I think the bear wants your famous spaghetti,” Tony agrees, trying as always to coax her into cooking his favorite things.
He usually succeeds.
“The bear may have it, if the bear helps. Up you get, Tony.”
“Alright, alright.” With a groan, Tony sits up, but he’s less successful than Ziva at balancing, and he falls to the floor with a yelp.
Ziva, giggling, leaves him there, grabbing an item or two of clothing to put on as she heads for the kitchen.
___________________
By the time they start cooking, they have almost an entire outfit on between them. Tony ends up in his own pants, bare-chested and ready to wield a pasta strainer when necessary. Ziva ends up in Tony’s misbuttoned shirt, bare-legged and with too-long sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
Ziva starts to delegate tasks; Tony is decent at following directions but is, at best, an unimaginative chef with a tendency to spend so much time sampling his projects that he gets distracted and burns them. She sets him chopping up vegetables to begin with. “You’re like a drill sergeant,” he complains teasingly. “All work and no play.”
“I am not certain we should play when you have a knife in hand, Tony,” she replies, smirking. “You are not as proficient as I am.” It’s little more than a taunt, a challenge—she knows exactly how to motivate him.
“We’ll see about that.”
Of course, it hasn’t been five minutes before he gets distracted by the way her breasts look in his shirt and he narrowly avoids cutting his own finger.
Then, snorting, Ziva decides to downgrade his status from sous chef to… waiter. “You cannot be trusted,” she informs him, but she pats his chest in consolation after confiscating the knife. “Maybe you can open some wine for us and put on music while I finish the carrots.”
Tony mutters something under his breath about how he’s not quite as much of a clown as she thinks he is, but he’s hiding a smile, and he kisses her temple before ambling off to choose a bottle. By the time he’s back, Ziva is nearly done with the chopping.
“Ever thought about being a chef?” Tony asks curiously, pulling two wine glasses from the top shelf of a cabinet and opening the wine to be poured. “You’re really good at it.”
“Ah, well, not every hobby is well-suited to be a career, but thank you.” The smile she sends his way is easy, brilliant, relaxed—like all her smiles are these days.
Tony thinks all the time about how dazzlingly Ziva’s sun shines now that the clouds are gone; she’s a brighter light than perhaps anyone else he knows except Tali, who certainly inherited it from Ziva anyway.
He hands her a glass of wine and holds up his own. “Cheers,” he begins, “to wine, and your spaghetti, and jazz, and all the dancing we’re about to do, and most importantly… cheers to you, my brilliant but terrifying wife.” She is, after all, still holding a potential murder weapon.
Ziva laughs and clinks his glass. “Cheers,” she agrees, and after she takes a sip, she sets down the knife and leans in to kiss him.
The kiss tastes like pinot noir and kid-free Friday nights and all the bliss of a normal life.
___________________
By the time the sauce is simmering and the noodles are boiling, Tony and Ziva have had two and a half glasses of wine each, and they’re both in distinctly pleasant moods.
They’ve been listening to Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits, getting increasingly into dancing around the kitchen with each song and each sip of red. Tony sends Ziva into a fit of hysterical laughter when he steals the sauce spoon and uses it as a microphone, not caring at all that he’s splattering bits of tomato all around as he spins and sings.
(They can clean the kitchen later, and besides, they’re very used to messes, raising an enthusiastic six-year-old as they are.)
Tony puts the spoon back in the sauce and snatches Ziva’s hand, spinning her into his chest and initiating a dance that she just can’t say no to. He’s in such a good mood—if she wasn’t already feeling so nice herself, it would be infectious anyway. As it is, she laughs helplessly, feeling hopelessly smitten as they swing dance.
“For once I can say,” Tony sings, “this is mine, you can't take it!” He dips Ziva backwards and her hair almost ends up in the spaghetti. (They might need a bigger kitchen but that couldn’t be of less consequence now.)
“As long as I know I have love we can make it,” Ziva sings back, kissing her husband between lines to distract him so she can tickle his sides and make his dance moves falter with laughter.
He bounces back quickly, though, spinning them faster as they chuckle together. “For once in my life, I’ve got someone,” he sings, louder. “Yeah, for once in my life, I found someone…”
“For once in my life, I’ve got someone who needs me!” They finish together at a forte, ending with a kiss that’s mostly just giggling into each other’s lips.
The neighbors will complain tomorrow about the mildly obnoxious noise, but with bellies full of spaghetti and hearts full of music and love, Tony and Ziva won’t care a bit.
#ncis#ncis fanfiction#tiva#tony dinozzo#ziva david#cynthia writes stuff too#this one's for sara#thank you for your constant support and enthusiasm friend! <3#enjoy the domestic fluff!#the prompt came from sof#thanks for always throwing ideas at me sof lol#love my friiiiiiends <3#friend drabble series
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Taggy gameeee
Tag from the beutiful @i-thought-the-earth-moved thank you for tagging me, I always turn my computer off right when someone tags me so then I have to wait till morning to do it. BUT THIS WAS SUPER FUN
Instructions: tag followers you want to get to know better.
Gender: female
Star sign: Taurus, thank you all that congradulated me happy birthday I will never forget it.
Height: 5′ 4″ according to Google, but for people with the normal metric system 165 cm
Sexuality: Bi - this is not me coming out ha, already did that ha
Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff, I am a proud Hufflepuff, FIGHT ME - please don’t because I would probably cry
Favorite animals: ALPACAS I cannot emphasize this enough ALPACAS
Average hours of sleep: 5ish - I know that’s not heathy, but you are young only once.
Current time: 10:43
Dogs or cats: dogs to pet, play with and to have but cats to look on the internet and laugh at funny cat videos.
Number of blankets you sleep with: One sometimes two if I feel like it
Dream job: Editor in a publishing house.
When I created this blog: 12th February 2019 (in my time zone it was actually 3 a.m. on the 13th )
Follower count: 344
Why I made this blog: to be able to vent about Tiva and shitpost and spam everyone with my unfiltered thoughts without feeling ashamed or scrared of posting something.
How I came up with my url: It’s one of my favourite lines from the show and when I was coming up with it it was 3 a.m. I was high on life and Ziva being alive and this was the only quote I could remember
I’m tagging @saraluvstiva , @zivasanxiety , @indestinatus , @justkindaoverhereobsessing
thanks again! that was fun!
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Tagged by @brasandsocks ☺
Name your top 10 fav characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people.
(Not in order because that's impossible)
1. Elizabeth Bennet - Pride and Prejudice
2. Jack Sparrow - Pirates of the Caribbean
3. Ziva David - NCIS
4. Ben Gates - National Treasure
5. Remus Lupin - Harry Potter
6. Tony Stark - Marvel
7. Ben Solo - Star Wars
8. Belle - Disney
9. Leopold Fitz - Agents of Shield
10. Chuck Bartowski - Chuck
Tagging some people: @lifeofships @mollylynn04 @ncis-ncislafan @shedeservedabetterending @tivaholic4 @jarripley @saraluvstiva @believe-the-unimaginable @itsemmaselby @vampire-profiler
#tag game#too many things to tag#i love being tagged in stuff ❤#planning on working on my tiva fanfic shhh
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Rules: tag 9 people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions
Tagged by @parischangedher & @we-take-care-of-each-others
Three ships: Tiva, Kigo, & Mondler
Currently reading: <.< I haven’t read in a bit... But I do have Preflight open on my kindle.
Last song: Some song on the Marianas Trench Astroia album, I wasn’t really paying attention by that point
Currently watching: The Fifth Element on my phone, Friends on my TV (cause I finished my other show last night)
Currently consuming: Tea.
Currently craving: Spaghetti
Thanks for the tag!!!
@loudlooks @dana-katherine-sculder @i-believe-in-melinda-may
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when i'm screaming at the sky
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3fKXVmo
by saraluvstiva
Nothing could have prepared her for this. Now she has to learn to face a new reality, a new normal. Can she do it? A story of loss and growth for one Ziva David.
Words: 7837, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: NCIS
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen
Characters: Ziva David, Anthony DiNozzo, Jethro Gibbs, Timothy McGee, Jimmy Palmer, Ducky Mallard, Abby Sciuto, Leon Vance, Anthony DiNozzo Sr., Talia "Tali" DiNozzo, Ellie Bishop, Nick Torres
Relationships: Ziva David/Abby Sciuto, Ziva David/Timothy McGee, Ziva David/Jethro Gibbs, Ziva David & Anthony DiNozzo, Ziva David & Talia "Tali" DiNozzo, Ziva David/Jimmy Palmer
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Personal Growth, Love
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3fKXVmo
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1, 16, 46!
1: Golden mornings or peachy sunsets?: Sunsets! I am not a morning person lol
16: What’s a language you’d like to speak?: I studied French for a long time in school and miss it! As far as new languages go, I think Arabic would be cool.
46: Thoughts on spring?: It’s my favorite season!
Ask me things!
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folklore tales
a collection of short stories about tiva set in summer, inspired by the album 'folklore' by taylor swift.
tagging the lovelies because folklore: @saraluvstiva @benditlikepress @softdeckerstars @pro-bee @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee
cardigan
Tony thought his Friday night would be just as uneventful as all others that summer, until an encounter with Liaison officer Ziva David in a downtown bar turns things around.
set in early S3.
NSFW.
//
read it in AO3.
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7, 9, 15, 30 !!
7. your favourite board game: I don’t play a lot of board games, but I really liked Clue when I was younger! Cards Against Humanity is also fun, though it’s not a board game per se...
9. a quote that you would consider getting tattooed or putting in a frame: Oh this is a tough one! I don’t want to get a tattoo, but I’d pretty much frame anything Ziva David says, lol 😂 More specifically, maybe “Aht Lo Leh-Vahd” and “Surround yourself with people you’d give your own life for” from NCIS and then a bunch of Psalms/Bible verses I like!
15. the last tv episode that made you laugh out loud: I’ve been rewatching S3 of NCIS so probably one of those! I think the last one I saw was Deception
30. a song that makes you want to have a boogie round your bedroom: Dancing Queen, lol.
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@saraluvstiva asked: #21 and #25 and #30
21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?
Oh dear...um...I believe it was the first in a series of stories/drabbles about NCIS based on letters of the alphabet, lol.
I’m actually CRINGING as I reread this, but in my defense it was in 2012 and I was only 15.
25. What’s your most popular fanfic?
Some of my reunion fics (This, The Wild Card, and This Love Came Back to Me) have the most views, so I guess it would be those! (Not counting ones from ages ago because they’re horrible and should be incinerated ;) )
30. What inspires you to write?
When I start to have a lot of feelings or when I see/read other people’s awesome works!
Ask me about fanfiction!
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back when I was living for the hope of it all
another day, another messy af folklore inspired fic
@indestinatus @saraluvstiva <3
read in full on ao3
//
Ziva had arrived in Paris with just the clothes on her back, and after years of travelling with no bags out of necessity it had taken her a while to procure enough possessions to need any kind of storage space.
After a weekend shopping trip ostensibly for new shoes for Tali (who knew children’s feet grew so fast?) Ziva had had the stark realisation that she had no clothes for hot weather, and had taken the less than enthusiastic girl around a couple of shops while she purchased some lighter fabrics. She’d not faced unpacking until now, aware of the fact that she was well and truly out of room in the small corner of the wardrobe she’d commandeered upon her arrival.
Tony had told her to clear out the rest of that half of the wardrobe to make room for herself, and he’d said it in such a nonchalant way that Ziva had been ill-prepared for the sight of the piled boxes and files and junk she ended up encountering when she pulled the hanging jackets out of the way. She’d always been suspicious of the levels of cleanliness he seemed to keep his old apartment in DC at, and maybe now she was learning the last of his secrets.
She’d left Tali in her bedroom playing after school, but it didn’t take too long staring at the overwhelming task in front of her until the door creaked open. Tali still liked to be around Ziva as much as she could.
She poked her head around the door and tried to walk in before being stopped in her tracks by the box Ziva had unintentionally placed in front of her path.
“I am sorry, ahava. Here.” She leaned up on her knees and took Tali’s hands, helping her guide her feet over the box and into the room.
“What are you doing?”
“I am trying to have a clear-out. Do you know what that is?”
“When you get rid of your old toys?”
“Yes, exactly. I am clearing out some of our old things that we do not need anymore so I can make some room for new things.”
“Can I help?”
“That would be great if you did. Here, I am pulling out all of these boxes and seeing what is important in them. Can you help me get them out?”
Tali sat down dutifully at Ziva’s side, leaning forward fully to pull one of the boxes out. She wobbled and the boxes began to slip until Ziva grabbed them carefully, holding the other ones up so Tali could retrieve the box she’d aimed for. The concentrated expression on her face was so distinctly Tony that it made Ziva take pause. She remembered the first time she’d seen it: Tali was barely a toddler, and Ziva had practically frozen in place as she’d seen such a perfect echo of him coming from a girl who looked so much like herself.
Now, Tali looked up at her with a forming grin.
“It’s daddy’s movies.”
“Yes, I think a lot of it is.”
Tony could be something of a purist when it came to streaming services, watching them but refusing to throw away physical copies of anything he could watch on them. They'd reached a compromise that he would limit the amount of movies he had on display at any one time, and Ziva had apparently found the consequences of that piled haphazardly into boxes and tucked away forgotten. She’d never realised there were quite so many Bond films made until she saw the evidence stacked in front of her.
She began pulling the boxes out onto the bedroom floor, placing them like a moat around herself and Tali while she moved the bottom objects around in the cupboard.
"I was looking for that!" Tali suddenly exclaimed with wonder, and Ziva tilted her head out of the darkness to find her holding The Little Mermaid triumphantly in the air.
"Ah, I knew it had to be somewhere! All the time we just had to ask daddy, yes? Although, he would probably not be able to find it in all of these boxes."
“Daddy calls this the junk cupboard.”
“Oh, does he indeed?”
The two of them continued sorting (Ziva sorted while Tali pulled everything out of the boxes and messily re-stocked them) until they finally reached the bottom of the wardrobe.
Before sorting anymore Ziva stood up and hung her clothes up inside so she could see the space they were working with.
Tali was quiet on the floor until Ziva rejoined her, papers on her lap.
"What are you looking at now?"
“Is this your name?” Tali held an envelope right up to Ziva’s face, and she pulled it away to look at it properly. Sure enough, there it was: written right in the centre, small as anything, in Tony’s recognisable rushed handwriting.
“That’s right, that is my name.”
"What is it? Is it a bill?"
Ziva smiled at the innocent sincerity of the question, apparently the only type of envelope Tali had any knowledge of.
"Do you know, Tali, I have no idea. I will have to save it for your father when he gets home from work, these are all of his things so I think he will know."
"Is it a surprise?"
"Maybe. But do you know what would surprise him?"
"What?"
"If we packed all of this away again as tidily as possible."
Even at the age of six, Tali’s ability to roll her eyes was becoming legendary. Still she helped, clumsily piling objects back into boxes as instructed and stopping on occasion to pull something out to look at it again.
Ziva packed away the movies and some of the files she knew to be important: apartment documents and insurance and travel documents and bank details. She placed a pile she was unsure of on the bed for Tony to check, and folded the envelope with her name on in half. She tossed it around in her hand a couple of times, debating, before placing it in her pocket.
continue reading on ao3
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i think your house is haunted
part 2 of my series of oneshots based around lyrics from taylor swift’s ‘folklore’. with that being said, @indestinatus @saraluvstiva
a get well gift for mi amor @ncisjes <3333
read in full on AO3
set during 11x02
//
“You cannot possibly mean that.”
“I’m serious, Ziva.”
“No, you are not.”
“I am.”
“You’re cold?”
“You could’ve told me it gets cold in Israel.”
“It is not cold, Tony.”
“Whatever, we’re not gonna argue about this right now.”
It was a simple enough sentence to say, but it cut through the situation like a knife and the laughter faded. Ziva’s hand on his chest slowed the absent strokes it had been making.
It was funny, that they could so easily forget what it was they were doing here. That this wasn’t just a joking conversation at the office or falling into bed together after one too many drinks.
Perhaps it was the emotional toll of the last few days finally beginning to show cracks, leaving room for a split second of light-hearted conversation between stares and thoughtful pauses. The silence clung on between them now, though, and Tony’s arm that was behind Ziva’s back pulled her into him tightly. She moved her head to replace her hand on his chest, curling around him a little. He could feel his heartbeat stutter under her ear.
“It really is not cold.”
“I’m freezing. I can’t go to sleep like this.”
“Did you not bring any clothes with you?” Ziva mumbled pointedly into his bare chest.
“Ha, smart.” Tony extricated her from his body and pulled himself reluctantly up to a seated position, immediately feeling the absence of her skin about his. He got wearily to his feet and began to look around the room while Ziva watched him with a frown.
“A sweatshirt, yes?”
“I did - I think I left it in the other room.” Tony said the words absently as he looked around, poking his foot around discarded clothes strewn across the floor.
They hadn’t done much today, or even strayed far from the room aside from to get food and sit on the balcony. Things had been intense ever since he arrived – straying so far in opposite directions that it had taken a toll, and sleeplessness providing the rest. To say he felt foggy was an understatement.
“The bedroom?”
“Yeah, I just dumped my bag in there. I’ll go look for it.”
“Bring the bag in here.”
He hadn’t needed the confirmation, of course, after everything that had happened since the orchard. It still felt foreign to hear out loud, though; the wordless becoming spoken.
He stretched his arms over his head as he left the bedroom, shaking them a little as he lowered them to warm them up as he picked his way back through the house.
The first of his two-becoming-three nights in Beersheba so far had been spent at the opposite end of the house. He'd arrived gone 10pm, and after the initial shock and a little small-talk Tony had asked her to point him towards a guest room on the proviso that they would talk the next day. He'd lain awake in Ari Haswari's childhood bedroom for the entire night, and when he'd got up to get a glass of water just before 4am he found her sat on a stool staring into space. She hadn't reacted when he'd sat down next to her and the two of them had talked accentuated with long silences until the sun rose. Mainly about Tony - whether he was back at work, how long he'd been out of the US, what Gibbs thought about it. Ziva was reserved about her opinions of it all, not reacting until later on when he had spoken to the man on Skype and lied about where he was. Not that Gibbs believed him (he was almost certain of that).
Things had progressed after the ‘I Will’ letter, desperate pleading in the orchard and Ziva’s hand taking his, leading him back inside with no façade or thinly-veiled excuse.
They’d barely spent more than five minutes apart since then, only leaving the house once to buy food, hands brushing against each other as they walked. Perhaps that was why it felt oddly lonely, then, when Tony walked down the corridor and left the light of the bedroom into the darkness. Unfamiliar territory.
The house was quiet; a strange kind of isolated quiet. Evidently nobody had stayed here in a long time - it was devoid of things like computers and televisions, and though Ziva had seemingly dusted the rooms a lot of them still had an air of un-use about them.
Tony hadn’t spent much time in a lot of it and so he took his time walking through the halls towards Ari’s room, poking his head around corners and looking into other disused rooms. He hadn’t realised how big the house was, outward appearance being deceiving in spite of the sprawling land that he and Ziva had tracked their way through looking for a place to bury her list.
A strange sense of foreboding overcame him when he reached the one familiar doorway. He’d left it cracked open and he could see the heel of one of his shoes poking out around the space. The surrealism of his position in the house hit him again: the reality of who the room had once belonged to, the child version of a man who would one day cause such pain and destruction. That this was how he and Ziva had met all those years ago, lives inextricably linked by him.
The fact that, in spite of it all, the two of them had become what they had.
With her firmly in his mind, he opened the door.
(continue reading on AO3)
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