Post by princess ponytails on Sept 26, 2006 12:43:53 GMT -5
Hello all, ponytails here;
I know some of you might be kinda ticked at me for not updating my NCIS/CSI crossover in forever, but i figured I'd start a thread for my other fiction. Soooo, please review, either here or on fanfiction.net, (which is to where I will be linking) and tell me what you think of my NCIS stories.
P.S., I posted this is the Shipper Zone, because I don't really have any NCIS fics that could be considered 'un-shippery'.
Post by princess ponytails on Jan 23, 2007 22:09:16 GMT -5
Short little Tiva
Kind of fluffy, but this is indeed the shipper zone, yes?
Category: Navy NCIS Title: Happy Endings Genre: Angst/Romance Rating: Fiction Rated: K+ Summary: It was quiet. Very quiet. Though the day's case had been resolved, there was something else plaguing Officer Ziva David's thoughts. Something hadn't been resolved.TIVA! What I hope will happen in some way or another! URL: www.fanfiction.net/s/3357072/1/
Post by princess ponytails on Oct 16, 2008 15:44:55 GMT -5
Hey hey! "Knocked Out", the sequel to "One Shot" my Tiva fic, now has nine chapters!! Please check it out, I'm really proud of the writing on this one:
Title: Knocked Out Chapters: 9 Genre: Romance/Angst Rating: Fiction Rated: T Summary: Tony and Ziva have some strain put on their newfound relationship, but no one gets shot this time! Sequel to One Shot. Total Tiva. Rated for impending language and dialogue. Link: www.fanfiction.net/s/3570034/1/Knocked_Out
Post by princess ponytails on Sept 22, 2009 23:40:06 GMT -5
WHOA wait, what I'm updating SHOCKER.
Hahah. This is a little one shot fic that I wrote before the season 7 premiere, so it was basically just what I wanted to happen. I'll just post it here because it's not very long, but it's also on my fanfiction.net account if you wanna review there. or here. Doesn't matter to me.
CAPTIVE Rated: T for violence, language, and suggestive themes Main character: Ziva Pairing: Tony/Ziva Written: 8/12/09 Spoilers: None unless you think I'm a psychic.
Well Ziva, this must be the end. She thought to herself, licking her dry, cracked lips and lifting her pounding head upwards ever so slightly. Every inch of her skin felt stiff, sore, caked with blood, dirt, and sweat. Through her uninjured eye, she could make out small shaft of light streamed in through the ceiling. It originated from a decently sized hole above her, which was about the circumference of a grapefruit...or a shotgun blast. But there it was nonetheless, shimmering and taunting her like a ray of hope. False hope, she thought to herself. She might have given a short derisive laugh if she knew for sure that it would not bring the wrath of the guards upon her. But she had no such assurance, so she remained as still and silent as she had these past weeks.
Her captors had tortured her intensely; they had burned her arms with cigarettes, savagely beaten her, and rammed splinters under her fingernails, yet through the agonizing pain she still told them nothing. She had pretended not to know the language until she had a fake breakdown and spouted false information. When her lie had been realized, she was made to suffer even worse punishments. The pain had been so great that she had lost consciousness. When she awoke she was again imprisoned. She was intensely shocked that she was still living, though bound and thrown back into her cell, and guarded day and night.
The hope of rescue seemed like a fickle, mythological thing at this point. No one knew where she was - Mossad probably considered her a casualty and NCIS did not have the clearance to know of her capture, let alone her deployment on this mission. In all certainty, she was never going to get out of this hell alive - and even a merciful death seemed like pleasant unlikelihood at this point.
Her mind was going blurry again, from the heat, dehydration, lack of food, and immense blood loss. She let her chin drop to her chest, but tried to stay alert by going through her memories like files in her mind. Everything she had ever known seemed distant, so far away - like she was remembering the story of someone else's life. Ziva could visualize moments from her past...but they were like faded echoes of reality.
She was seven years old again, gliding across a stage during her ballet recital. The audience applauded. She curtsied and grinned, searching the crowd for her father’s face...in vain.
Then she was ten, brushing her little sister Tali’s long hair...
She was fourteen, begging her brother Ari to help her with her math homework...
The scene changed. It was the night she lost her virginity...not nearly as magical as she had envisioned it. More like awkward and uncomfortable, especially when it was over. She left without waking him.
Now Ziva knew that it was first time she ever shot someone. She was nineteen and her father praised her loyalty to the Mossad. She cried for three hours and then threw up...
It was her first day at NCIS and a man’s hazel eyes made her go weak at the knees...but she never let on...she hated feeling weak.
She was trapped inside a metal box with Tony DiNozzo, pressed in next to him as a hail of gunfire spattered the wooden cargo around them. The echoes of the shots were almost deafening...so close...
Ziva lifted her head - were they mere sounds in her mind as she finally lost touch with reality? She strained her ears, listening as hard as she could. It seemed as if the guns were getting closer...
The door banged open and in stumbled a heavily bearded guard, holding an automatic weapon. At the sight of him, Ziva struggled feebly against her bonds on her wrists. Frantic thoughts that these were her last pathetic moments flitted through her mind.
Two loud shots made her catch her breath, and the bearded man dropped to the dirt floor. Her sight began to go dim, darkness edging in on the sides of her vision. Her head dropped again to her chest as the sounds of shouting and fighting became ringing in her ears, and faded into nothing.
Suddenly she was floating...flying...no, being carried. Ziva was lifted by strong arms and cradled against someone’s body. Her eyes flickered open, and a face swam into view. Though the mouth and eyes were fraught with worry and urgency, there was something pleasant and familiar about him. Something safe.
With great effort she choked, “Tony...is that you?” through her dry mouth and dust filled lungs. Her voice was almost lost in the roar of motors as they were ushered to the back of a truck.
Tony looked pained - sweat was streaming down his face and his hair was matted with dust, but he cracked a smile “Were you expecting someone else?”
“Careful, her left shoulder is dislocated.” DiNozzo warned as someone just out of Ziva’s peripheral vision helped to lift her into the truck.
Her eyes closed again and she was laid on a cot and the vehicle began to rumble away over the sand.
“What the hell did they do to her?” asked an angry voice, filled with anxiety and disgust. Without seeing, Ziva knew that the owner of the voice was none other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs. “If we could shoot all those bastards a second time, I would.” he continued.
If Ziva’d had the energy to laugh, she would have.
A hand pressed gently to her bruised cheek. “You’re gonna be alright Ziva.” Tony’s voice came gruffly from the darkness, almost as if he needed to assure himself. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll be back to base soon - even Ducky came along to take care of you.”
He sighed and lowered his voice, but she could still hear him. “You can’t let her go back to Mossad, Gibbs. Not after this. You tell Daddy David that she’s ours. We don’t give our awfully nice agents up for dead!” he exclaimed heatedly.
Ziva could feel Tony’s hand resting lightly on her abdomen, a small comforting presence. Though she was on the edge of unconsciousness, her own fingers groped blindly for his.
He must have intuitively known her intention, because he took her hand gingerly, trying to avoid hurting her further.
At this point, Ziva could have cared less about the pain - an immense feeling of safety and optimism had swept over her. She squeezed Tony’s hand briefly and murmured, “I missed you.”
Post by princess ponytails on Dec 5, 2009 0:48:43 GMT -5
Okay...even though I got no feedback on the last fic, here is another Tiva-riffic drabble.
SUNDAY Rated: T suggestive themes Main characters: Tony, Ziva Pairing: Tony/Ziva Written: 11/24/09 Spoilers: None
When he knew what he wanted nothing could stop him. Nothing, that is, but this: this teensy little roadblock called flirting. With any other girl it would have been the simplest thing in the world; he knew all the tricks, all the lines. He could be a regular Romeo when the occasion called for it. If Anthony DiNozzo couldn’t dazzle a girl with a smile and a cheesy Sinatra impression, then he was just lost. And so it seemed that this time he was out of luck. None of the regular gimmicks worked with Ziva.
As a coworker she had quickly stepped up to the plate and matched him in witty sexual humor. With any other girl their relationship would have quickly progressed to that of a more physical nature, but with Ziva it was just day to day behavior. He had enjoyed all their banter while it lasted. Unfortunately their relationship had reached a crossroads. Having totally exhausted all forms of flirting and sexual innuendos, they had tired of the games and had almost altogether ceased their usual improprieties. They weren’t regularly invading each others’ space anymore, and their joking banter had dwindled down to the occasional sly remark. Any attempts he made at serious verbal flirting would probably be totally lost on her. In all likelihood she would probably take it as a joke and go along with it. But the spark wouldn’t be there.
It was like the foreplay had ended and now Tony was stumped. Ziva wasn’t like the other girls: she wasn’t going to just giggle and fall into bed with him. On the flip side, Tony didn’t want her to be that girl. She wasn’t going to be the one he’d leave before she woke up and never call.
It was early morning and she hadn’t arrived yet. He imagined that she was there already; pretended that he was watching the slope of her neck and the slight furrow of her brow as she examined a case report. She would toss her hair over her shoulder in that way that drove him crazy. He shook off the image and glanced at the elevator, willing it to open and to reveal her. Apparently adverse to his wishes, the elevator remained closed and silent.
Tony reclined in his chair, musing. If he tried to do other things that he considered “flirting”, he honestly believed that he was liable to sustain serious bodily harm, as a direct result of his attempts. He went over a mental checklist of “don’ts”. He couldn’t tousle her hair – she’d already made that message loud and clear. He couldn’t tickle her sides – she’d probably break his thumbs. He couldn’t surprise her – she was more than likely to put him in a Vulcan death grip. If he offered a hug, she would probably suspect that he had other motives and refuse…
The elevator doors rolled open and Ziva swept into the squad room. Her hair was a mass of untamed curls, she wore black workout pants, a turquoise t-shirt, and an irritated scowl. Unfortunately for Tony’s concentration, her windblown, helter-skelter appearance made her seem even more appealing to him. Her lateness seemed to make her very rushed and annoyed, even though Gibbs wasn’t there to tell her off.
…Probably PMS related. Tony thought, but quickly pushed the thought out. He needed to be suave and debonair as usual, but also – he shuddered at the thought – mature. But however uncomfortable he felt, he resolved that he would turn over a new leaf for her. The old Tony would have chuckled and made the PMS remark, but his New and Improved Version of Tony smiled in a way that he hoped wouldn’t be patronizing and asked casually,
Ziva paused in the middle of shedding her coat. Her eyes narrowed, but she seemed to recognize his earnest interest. “Yes.” she replied. “I slept through my alarm, my car would not start, and I was forced to take the bus.”
“Ouch,” Tony sympathized. “Well, you didn’t miss anything.” He glanced at his watch. “Probie is even later than you, so he’s in for hell when Gibbs gets back…from wherever he is.” Agent DiNozzo glanced over his shoulder, suddenly aware that his boss could sneak up on him at any minute.
Ziva stood up. “So you haven’t actually seen Gibbs yet?” She asked, pointing at him in a quizzical way.
Tony shook his head. “Nope, figured he was in MTAC or on a coffee run.” He yawned in an exaggerated way.
Ziva sauntered around across to her coworker’s desk. “Tony, what is today?” Ziva asked warily.
“Saturday the fifteenth.”
“Yesterday was the fifteenth.” Ziva corrected.
The two looked at each other with equal looks of shock and annoyance, as simultaneous realization hit them.
Ziva cursed quietly in Hebrew, and Tony grimaced. “It’s Sunday isn’t it?”
“We were not even called into work!” Ziva groaned, and Tony could gauge her level of annoyance by the fact that her hand motions were beginning to get more pronounced.
“And since Gibbs is not here,” she continued, “we may assume that he is at home, working on that damned boat, and that—“
“We have no case.” Tony finished for her quietly; his voice seemed in sharp contrast to Ziva’s raised tone.
Ziva stalked back to her desk and began to gather her belongings, as Tony shut down his computer and slid into his windbreaker. He paused to watch her and smiled slightly to himself. God she’s cute when she’s mad. Anthony shook his head and left his desk, eager to vacate the premises. He took a few moments to stand between the facing desks, surveying Ziva David as she sank heavily into her chair.
The young Israeli woman seemed not to notice his attention, as she sat with her head in her hands. After a short time, his stare became more pointed. Ziva felt his eyes on her and looked up into them.
He chuckled. “What are you doing?”
“I am waiting. The bus does not come for another thirty minutes, and it is cold outside.”
Tony DiNozzo shook his head, still grinning knowingly. “C’mon Zee-vah.” He snickered, purposely over-enunciating her name. “I’ll give you a ride.” He gestured with his head toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”
She nodded, giving half a smile. She seemed slightly confused, but not displeased. “Thank you, Tony.” Ziva said slowly, following him to the elevator.
As the two exited the building, the day was bright and brisk, with a cutting breeze that made the two agents huddle closer together than normal. They did not say much to one another as they walked to the car, but once they reached it, Tony couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t forever be the scared little boy who would pull the cute girl’s hair and run away. This was his playground now.
Before they got in his car, he caught her eye across the top of the vehicle. “Look Ziva,” he said loudly, talking over the rushing sound of the wind, “Do you wanna go get breakfast together? We can eat, catch up, just talk...or whatever. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and thing is…you drive me crazy.”
She squinted against the sun. “What was that? I could only hear the first part. The wind.” She nearly shouted to be heard.
Tony shook his head and waved it off. “Nothing!” He yelled.
Oblivious to his valiant attempt to make his feelings known, Ziva howled, “Unlock the door, it is freezing!”
As the two got in the car, and headed for the nearest diner, Tony was hit with the stinging realization that he couldn’t just let things drop. Suddenly, bringing a slight scream from his passenger, and honks from other cars, Tony pulled the car to the side of the road.
“Tony what the—“
“Ziva, I know I said it was nothing, but honestly, it wasn’t ‘nothing’, it was everything. In fact, I don’t know how I held back this long, because now it’s just gonna come bursting out and I’m probably going to sound like an idiot.” He babbled on in a wry manner, grinning, but knowing how little sense he was making.
“Go on.” Ziva said, giving him a calculating look.
“I intend to,” DiNozzo nodded and chuckled in an almost manic way, “in fact, I never want to stop telling you how you put butterflies in my stomach and a spring in my step. You’re the reason I want to get up in the morning, and the reason I hate going home at night. I love the way you look when you’re mad at me, and I love the way you drive me crazy. I can’t really say more than that, other than it’s all true, and I honestly don’t know what to do with any of it.”
She sat there, gaping at him. Tony began to come down from the sudden high he’d developed as he spilled his guts to her, and he began to wonder if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
All his fears dissipated the moment he saw her smile. “I can’t really top that, can I? What is that ridiculous word you use all the time?” She reached out to touch his cheek, heat radiating from her grin. “Oh yes,” she gave a sparkling little laugh as she remembered, “ditto.”