I've Written Words A Thousand Times

Hello, my name is Sloan and this is my blog for all of my writing, whether it be full length stories, drabbles, one shots, etc. This is the blog for that. I am always taking requests.

[just-a-writer-type]

Battle To End All War | A Klaus and Ziva Fan Fiction | Rated M for Violence, Derogatory Language, and Possible Sexually Explicit Content

Chapter One - When the Witches Come 

It had been six months since Klaus had made Ziva into a hybrid. The sire bond had grown stronger with time. Ziva had taken up permanent residence in the Mikaelson Estate in New Orleans. She had not spoken with anyone from the team since she phoned Abby two months prior. However, the entire team all held their own worries for the now inhuman former field agent. This, though, was not what the Israeli was thinking about. She was thinking about what she had overheard Elijah and Klaus discussing. The witches were ready to kill all the original vampires, including hybrid Klaus. Secretly, in her room, she had been gathering her weapons she had had with her, ready to do whatever she had to to protect her new-found family. Rebekah was downstairs, reading one of a vast amount books. Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door, a large package for none other than Ziva. The mailman smiled to the blonde. "Uh, I have a package for Ziva David." He spoke, pronouncing it wrong. "You mean Dah-veed?" Rebekah asked. Ziva heard from her room, whirring down before going to the door. "Is that my package?" She questioned, receiving a nod. "Oh, thank god." She breathed, signing for it before taking it and whirring back upstairs. Klaus noticed the package, a natural curiosity filling him. "What's that, love?" He asked after following her. "Just a package." She replied, running a hand through her hair. She turned to look at Klaus, feigning a smile. She hoped he would leave but he didn't. "What's in it?" He asked, noticing the weapons. "Just... stuff." Ziva said, her hands going to her waist. "Are you a weaponry enthusiast?" He asked, narrowing his eyes almost angrily. "Hmm, I guess that's what I get for growing up in a Mossad family in Israel." She replied, truthful though not telling the entire truth. "You know." Klaus stated, swiftly opening the package. "More weapons, hmm. I was right. You know." He added. "I can help. I've had years of training from the best of the world's military. I am trained for this, Klaus." She breathed, whirring up to him before cupping his face. "You made me this way, and now I have an eternity... with you.... I'm not going to let those fucking witches kill you, Klaus." A moment after, a smirk came to Klaus' face. "That's my girl." He crooned with twisted adoration. "Yes, you may help me, us." He said, leading the way downstairs. "Brother, sister, family meeting. Now." He said, all the originals in the home now in the living room. "The newest member of our little family knows our secret. She wants to be our helper." He said, bemused. "Ziva, you don't understand. These are witches." Elijah said, approaching her. "And I am a hybrid with military training. I can help if you let me." She retorted, sternly voiced. "And when the witches come, I'm going to be there. I am going to fight for you all." 

[ttiva]

This moment right here… I really noticed it whilst capping the episode. The way she looks at his lips and then his eyes… It actually happens a few times during this scene, her switching between his eyes and lips. According to Psychologists, it’s a sign that a person wants to kiss someone, that they’re extremely comfortable with that person. But as we all know, these two always look at each others lips. Also, parted lips are apparently a “significant and potent attraction signal”. You can clearly see here that her lips are parted. We also see that Tony is stroking and playing with her hand. In my opinion I find that really sweet and romantic, he doesn’t want to let go. This scene is just so intimate and sweet and I just can’t help but think that a kiss was cut from it, or perhaps they went back to Ziva’s after and made love or something along those lines. Either way, I’d have to say this is one of my ultimate favourite Tony and Ziva scenes. 

[musingsofatransgenderpansex-blog]

Why is this giving me ideas for a Klaus/Ziva crossover one shot??

[just-a-writer-type]

You should do an Olivia Benson and Ziva David story!

I should? Anything you want in particular? 

[just-a-writer-type]

I saw Lost Girl is one of your shows in the index... do you ship Doccubus? You should do one for them... I do not really mind what the plot is... maybe Bo needs chi or something?

Ooh yes yes yes

[just-a-writer-type]

A Little Extra Service | The L Word and NCIS | Shane McCutcheon and Ziva David | NSFW

It was a hot day in Los Angeles and Shane McCutcheon was cleaning her work space in the shop called WAX, in which Shane was a hair dresser. It was something that she was good at. However, as many women in the area knew, it was not her only talent. Ziva, though, was rather unaware. She just moved to California, having quit NCIS merely weeks ago. She had heard about Shane and how good she was with hair.

Given this information, she went to WAX and made the appointment to see the 'guru' of sorts. Ziva was nervous. She had not done anything with her hair in such a long time. Shane, meanwhile, exited the area shielded by a curtain and smiled with much surprise when she saw her last client of the day. The thin woman in her mid-twenties was quite in awe of how beautiful Ziva truly was. 

"Come on back," Shane urged, holding open the curtain. 

"Thank you," responded Ziva with much politeness. 

She did as Shane wished and put down her things, looking to Shane as she came back as well, closing the curtain. She smiled, patting her thin jean-covered thighs. Her arm gestured towards the hair-dresser's chair. 

"Have a seat." Shane spoke as she readied her tools. 

Ziva took a seat moments before Shane walked behind the woman. She gently took her hair out of the bun it was in, watching as the Israeli's hair fell around her face. She was astounded by how beautiful her hair was. She blue-eyed hairdresser ran her fingers through it, feeling it. It was a very intimate act, Shane had to admit. And Ziva would be lying if she said she had not found the sensations it caused pleasurable. A slight whimper left the Israeli's lips. 

"So, what's your name? Ziva, right?" 

She nodded, "Yes." 

"And what can I do for you, Ziva?" Shane questioned, secretly hoping Ziva did not wish to cut it all off. 

"I was thinking of going a little bit of a lighter brown color, actually." Ziva admitted, the dark hair reminding her too much of her father. 

"Alright, that I can do." Shane smiled, knowing this was going to be quite easy. Half an hour later, Shane turned Ziva around to let her see her new hair, and the former-NCIS employee was more than pleased. "What do you think?" 

"Oh, wow!" Ziva exclaimed, touching it in disbelief at how good it looked. "I love it, thank you!" 

"Not a problem," Shane stated as she squatted down in front of the attractive customer. She wanted nothing more than to do for her what she had for several women clientele. "Anything else I can do for you?" 

She started to stand, now eye to eye with Ziva. The sexual tension was palpable. Ziva leaned forward, her heart racing as her eyes darted between Shane's. A lump formed in her throat as her nerves started getting the better of her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed to form, much less come out as verbal messages.

Shane could see it in the woman's eyes and smirked, closing the gap between them. She kissed Ziva deeply, and Ziva moaned out, her body going limp as she melted into the intimate kiss. Her toes curled within her combat boots as she felt her legs open slightly. Shane took this opportunity to let her hands rest there, and it made Ziva moan even louder. 

"Please," Ziva breathed out, finally admitting to Shane that a little extra service was what she really wanted after all. 

[just-a-writer-type]

Have you gotten to my Shane and Ziva request yet? If not, you should do it!

No I haven’t, and I will! I’m excited! I’ve got an idea! 

[just-a-writer-type]

You're such a good writer! Please post more!

I am working on it, dear anon. Please be patient. However, if you have prompts, please send them via the ask box. I am always taking prompts. 

[just-a-writer-type]

I Didn't Just Kiss Her | NCIS | Ziva David and Abby Sciuto | NSFW | Trigger Warning Alcohol and Parties

Her heart was a stubborn pound as she sat against her bedroom door, within it. Her mind was anywhere but where her body was. It was as if they were completely separate entities. She did not know how to feel, and quite frankly, processing it all right now was not her intention. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to forget. Her name was Ziva David and she had faced a dilemma she never thought she would have to. Her own sexuality.

This was not her, she thought. She could not feel this way for another woman. Or could she? Tilting her head back, she stared at the ceiling, her mind drifting back to the party. Abby Sciuto had invited her to a party that evening, and she did in fact attend. There was music, people, fun, dancing, drinks, foods, and even party favors for those who were more daring. Abby, a co-worker and now close friend, was never one to be closed off about her interests, however Ziva had seen a new side of Abby that she never thought existed tonight. 

Ziva remembered how she had rather tentatively gotten herself a drink from the table in the front room and began dancing but only slightly before finding herself alone in the hallway off the kitchen of the host’s apartment. 

Breathing a sigh, she felt rather uncomfortable being there, out of her element. Though she did enjoy occasional trips to clubs or bars, parties were never really her scene. Internally, she began to question whether or not this was odd. Either way, she had been there. For her friend. The Israeli NCIS agent glanced down at her drink, biting her lip before shaking her head. 

"Here goes nothing, I suppose." She spoke, knocking back the alcoholic substance which tasted like a crude mixture of red bull and vodka. It burned at her throat, but soon this stinging was replaced by a pleasurable feeling brought on by intoxication. 

Making her way back over to the drinks, she drank two more glasses before going back to the spot in which she previously stood. A rather loosening sensation washed over her and she could not keep from giggling, though there was nothing to laugh about. She then watched as a couple of girls, hands conjoined, made their way down the very same hall, into one of the back rooms. Arousal rushed through her as her curiosity seemed to get the better of her. She wanted so desperately to know what they were doing. She practically jumped when Abby drunkenly tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Hey there, pretty lady." She greeted with a giggle, having had herself a couple of drinks herself. "You enjoying the party?" She asked, standing rather provocatively on the other side of the hallway. 

Ziva pulled the right side of her bottom lip between her teeth, taking a breath before ultimately shrugging. 

"Perhaps." 

Abby rolled her eyes before gently shoving her friend by the shoulder. 

"Pfft, Ziva, you are never any fun at all, are you?" 

Ziva chuckled, shrugging again before drinking more before going to toss away the cup in the kitchen garbage can. 

"Sorry." She spoke as she did so, running a hand through her long and luscious brunette curls. 

"C’mon, Zee-vah. This is exactly why I brought you here." Abby explained with a huff. "You need to loosen up and have a little fun, you know?"

Ziva simply pursed her lips to the side in a sort of smirk. She loved Abby, and her persistence was one of the many reasons why. 

"Oh Abby, please…" Ziva said, rolling her eyes. "I have fun." 

Abby scoffed. She did not buy it much. Ziva never went out on dates any more, nor did she and Abby go out and have girls’ nights either. She figured all she did was make herself into a hermit. 

"Oh, yeah. Totally." She replied sarcastically. "Because reading novels and cleaning your weapons is a barrel of monkeys!" 

Ziva furrowed her brows, drunken and confused as to what Abby meant by what she had said. Shaking her head, she went to get another drink from the collection in the kitchen, downing it before looking back to the forensic scientist. 

"I honestly have no clue what you are going on about, however I can assure I do more than that." 

"Okay." Abby said in an almost mocking manner. "I just wish you would get a life, you know, live a little." 

Ziva could not keep from letting out a dry laugh, snorting slightly.  "I can assure you, Abigail, I do." She responded, her accent thickening as her drunken state became more apparent. 

"Oh really? Prove it." Abby dared, her wilder side coming out even more so now that she was intoxicated. 

Ziva crossed her arms beneath her now more noticeable breasts, her shirt not concealing them as most did.

"Abby, how do you want me to do that?" Ziva asked in rebuttal, taking a step closer to Abby, a staggering step. 

"This!" Abby finally exclaimed before crashing her lips into the Israeli’s in a passionate kiss.

Ziva was taken aback by Abby’s actions, but perhaps it was her drunken state of which made it impossible for her to stop herself. She felt Abby’s lips moving against her own, never having felt such soft ones before. It made her moan, only slightly, as her own lips began to move in tandem with the Goth’s. Her assertive nature, along with the effects of the alcohol, caused her to become rather dominating of the situation. She cupped Abby’s face within her hands, deepening the kiss as she backed her into the wall behind her. Abby, unable to believe this, shakily allowed her arms to drape around Ziva’s neck, almost begging for the continuance of the lavishing kiss.       

Ziva, meanwhile, could not understand the surge of emotions colliding throughout her like tidle waves as she kissed her colleague. The taste of liquor and caf-pow blended in with the natural taste of her mouth caused even more arousal to build. However, somewhere within her told her that what she was doing now, with her friend, was not right. Despite her drunkeness, she was able to acknowledge this. Breaking free from the spell Abby’s lips had cast, she looked at her, within her green eyes, and shook her head. 

"I- I can’t. I have to go." Ziva denied herself, backing away from Abby.

There was this pained look in her eyes, like she did not want to but she knew she had to. She knew she had to get out of the situation before it became something she could not undo, nor forget. 

"Ziva…" Abby started, her voice barely a whisper. "Wait a minute."  She rushed over to her, her eyes dancing across Ziva’s heart shaped face as if searching for something within it. 

"Let me take you home." Abby pleaded, the note of how much she truly cared for her evident within her tone. 

Ziva simply shook her head, patting Abby’s shoulder. 

"I… do not think that would be such a great idea." Ziva replied, a tear in her eye. 

Then, without looking back, the brunette agent turned around and exited the party. Which left her where she was, sitting behind her bedroom door, thinking about it incessantly. 

"Damn it!" Ziva grumbled under her breath, burying her face within her knees as they were clutched within her arms. 

She did not know how, or when, or anything… but she knew she had to do something about this. Whether she confronted Abby head on, or simply pretended she did not remember or that it never happened, either way, this would be dealt with. She was not going to lose her best friend. 

[just-a-writer-type]

Inside the Mind of a Damaged Soul | Ziva David and Hannibal Lecter | Trigger Warning: Therapy, PTSD, Traumatic Experience, Assault, Rape, Recounting of Trauma

There was something about his eyes.. it was not too profound, but just enough for me to notice. A kindness, a gentlemanly manner about them that I could not quite place. And at the same time I found that all to be rather disconcerting. I barely had my foot on the ground as I descended the wooden ladder, and I had a sinking, unknown feeling here that I should not trust myself, not in this moment. NCIS had sent me to work alongside the FBI on a case, and during this case I met Doctor Hannibal Lecter, of whom seemed to catch interest in me, for he had invited me into his office.

It was a nice one, much nicer than many I had seen. I looked around, admiring the interior before looking to the doctor. The way he looked at me then was much more analytic, with much more scrutiny than before. Shoving my hands into my back cargo pants pocket, and clenched my jaw before speaking.

“So… why exactly is it that you invited me to your office?” I questioned him, breaking the slightly awkward silence transpiring between us.

This slight smirk came to his face. It irked me. Every last bit of that tiny smirk got to me. Did he know it was getting to me?

“Why don’t you have a seat, Ziva. I always like to make my guests feel welcome.” He spoke, his accent thick.

His tone was yet another thing that got to me. I bit my lip out of frustration, and took a seat. I had to admit, he had comfortable furniture. Swallowing, I looked up to the man whom stood before me. His smile still on his aged face, it seemed as though he was waiting for me to speak. Remaining silent, I ran a hand through my hair and sat back, hoping my relaxed posture would get him to stop making that face. It did not.

“Tell me about yourself.” He stated simply, and I nearly let out a wry laugh in response.

“That is why you invited me here? To chat me out about… me?” I questioned, tilting my head as I found it a rather absurd reason to invite me into his home. “This is not about the case, or anything like that?”

He chuckled. His chuckle got to me worse than his fucking grin. I did not know which was worse, the mannerisms or the fact that they got to me.

“I believe it is ‘chat me up’, Agent David… and yes, this is why I invited you. You interest me.” He replied honestly, walking over to the other side of the room, sitting down himself.

“I interest you?” I asked with a raised brow, not truly buying all of this. “And why is it I do not believe you?”

“Trust issues, I imagine.”

His answer to my question angered me. Not because he was wrong. He was actually quite accurate, and that was the problem. He seemed to have me pegged so easily. That was something I truly hated. I rolled my eyes at him, crossing my arms beneath my breasts, crossing one leg over the other hastily.

“There’s not much about me to know.” I combated, and I could tell by that all too cynical look on his face that he wasn’t buying into it.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Hannibal said before standing to his feet, taking several steps towards me.

With each step, my nerves became more frayed and I hated this, I hated it so exponentially. I wanted to get up, run to that ladder, and leave, never to return again. But something in that instant had me feeling paralyzed.

“Tell me about yourself.” He repeated, much more demanding this time.

“Well, what do you want to know?” I asked in response.

“Anything, everything.” He replied with a shrug.

‘Typical psychologist answer’  I thought with slightly narrowed eyes. I ran a hand through my hair, a breath of reservation huffed from my rose colored lips. I shook my head slightly, looking down to my lap before looking at him again.

“I’m a Scorpio.”

—- To be continued —-

[just-a-writer-type]

Reveal | NCIS and True Blood | Ziva David, Eli David, Eric Northman, and Pamela Swyford De Beaufort | As Requested By Anon | NSFW

Eli David sat at his desk in his office in the Mossad building, staring at the television screen as the news played. He found it very preposterous that the news was even talking about it, but they were doing a story about The Great Revelation, how the vampires ‘came out of the coffin’. Eli was not the type to believe in such creatures, however he had no idea that his own daughter would be able to disband the idea that the fanged beings were nothing more than mere myths. Sighing, he turned off the flat screen in sheer frustration before letting his aged brown orbs meander over to a picture of his child. Smiling, he picked up his phone, calling her.

 Meanwhile, Ziva was kissing her way down Eric’s frame as the pair laid together in their large bed, red sheets covering the mattress. Pamela was letting her nails rake down Ziva’s back, sending chills through her spine. She growled at the blonde before looking to the man beneath her, locking eyes with him as her mouth teased at the head of his erection. She smirked to him, ready to fully give him pleasure when all of the sudden her cell phone went off with her father’s ringtone. Groaning, she crawled up Eric’s frame to grab her phone. As she did this, Eric gripped her wrist.

 “Turn it off.” He growled, needing her in that moment.

“I would, trust me, but it is my father. Please, just a few moments.” Ziva said, smiling when Eric relinquished his hold on her. “Aba, what can I do for you?”

 His brows raised at the bitterness in her tone. Eli really had not expected this.

 “Ziva, am I interrupting something?” He questioned, causing a red hue to come rushing vehemently to her face.

 “No, um, what… what do you want?” She asked hastily.

 “Oh, I was just wondering if you had, uh, heard anything about this cochomamie vampire business that the news is rambling on about?” The Mossad director questioned.

 Eric and Pamela both smirked, having heard the other end of the conversation due to their innate ability to hear much more than a human could. Eric quickly flipped them over so that Ziva was below him, and Ziva shook her head, knowing all too well what he was trying to do.

 “No! Eric Northman, no!” Ziva hissed, covering the cell phone with her hand. “Show some patience!”

 Eric simply smirked some more and let Ziva continue talking.

 “No, actually… I hadn’t.” Ziva lied blatantly, having in fact been with two vampires for the last few months. “Is that the only reason you’re calling me at eleven thirty at night?”

 Eli had completely forgotten about the time differences.

 “Oh, Ziva, daughter, I am sorry. Have I woken you? Were you sleeping?” He questioned.

 Eric and Pam were trying their hardest not to laugh, all the while Ziva had never felt more embarrassed in her entire life.

 “Something like that.”

 “Oh, well… no… Ziva, I would like to see you. Is that a possibility?” He asked, having missed his child though he would never say it.

 “I… I don’t know, papa… I suppose.. but arrangements would need to be made.” Ziva responded, her heart beating rampantly with her nervousness as she sat up in the bed, perching somewhat on Eric.

 Eric then cupped Ziva’s heart shaped face within his hands, locking eyes with her as if to tell her that he and his progeny would aid her in any way they could. Ziva smiled, mouthing the words “Thank you. I love you.” in response.

 ——

 Several days had passed since then and Eli had finally managed to make his way to Louisiana. He could not for the life of him understand why Ziva would come here of all places after leaving NCIS. Meanwhile, Ziva was frantically getting ready while Pam and Eric rested. She had tried using makeup to cover up the bites on her neck, though it smeared too much. Sighing, she knew she’d just have to wear a scarf and keep her hair where it was. All the bite marks seemed to be well hidden, despite the suspicions arose by a scarf in the middle of August. She made her way to Merlotte’s, where she said she would meet her father. In a crowd of hicks and hunters, Eli was not hard to find. Ziva sat down in front of her father, emotionless-faced and stern voiced.

 “Hello father.”

 “Well, Ziva, hello. You look good.” He complimented with a nod.

 “Thank you.” She added, biting her bottom lip for a moment.

 Eli too found it very suspicious that Ziva was wearing a scarf, especially with it nearly one hundred degrees outside.

 “So, Ziva… tell me, what have you been doing with your life?” Eli asked, wishing to know more about his daughter’s life.

“Oh, you know.. just… spending time with… new… friends.” Ziva stammered, remembering back to Eric and Pam. “You?”

 “Work,” Eli said, Ziva nodding in response. “Ziva, may I ask why you’re wearing that scarf?”

 “No, you may not.”

 Eli furrowed his brows, and just then a patron to Merlotte’s came up to Ziva, frowning.

 “You is one of them fang bangers, ain’t you, child?” The older gentleman asked. He was with the Light Of Day church movement for anti-vampirism. “You know, if you just let God into your heart, he can show you the light and save you from those horrid demons!”

 Eli was confused, though this had happened to Ziva once before.

 “Ziva, what is he talking about?” He asked, concern hidden in his eyes.

 “This your daughter?” The older guy asked.

 Eli nodded. “Yes.”

 “You know she been fuckin’ them vamper demons?” He asked, yanking the scarf from her neck. “Look at her neck, all them bite marks! Demon worshiper!”

 “Hey!” Ziva exclaimed, grabbing his arm before twisting it and pinning him to the table. “Give. It. Back.”

And it was in that moment when Eli saw the several bite marks in various stages of healing on his daughter’s neck. It was then that he knew. She had lied.

[just-a-writer-type]

I Would Be Honest | HOUSE MD: Remy Hadley and Allison Cameron | Prompt One | Trigger Warning: Death/Dying

The sound of the patient’s heartbeat slowly filling the air was what rid it of the silence. They were in a room, sleeping so that doctors could examine their brain. However, on the other side of the glass, it seemed that the pair of female doctors were not even paying attention. Allison Cameron, a blonde diagnostician who seemed to find her way back to House along with her old team members and a few new faces, could not help but to look at the physician next to her. She would be lying if she said that she was not concerned for the other doctor’s well being.

Allison was aware of her diagnosis. She knew that Remy Hadley was dying. ‘Figured as much’, Dr. Cameron mused to herself as she looked at her, ‘with thirteen as a nickname, you’re bound to be unlucky’. Doctor Hadley turned her head from her playboy magazine, finding the women exceptional, to look at the blonde. She smiled a barely there smile and ran a hand through her long, light brown hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Thirteen questioned with a tilt of her head.

“You.” Cameron admitted.

Remy sighed. She knew what the older physician meant by this. She licked her lips as she pondered what to say know. She had to admit, having everyone know that she was dying made it difficult to find the right words for anything personal.

“You mean about the diagnosis.” Remy breathed out, it being more of a statement of fact as opposed to a question.

“Yes… I mean about the diagnosis.” Cameron confessed, looking briefly to the monitors and patient, before letting her blue eyes fall on the thin doctor.

“I have a while until the disease will start presenting any symptoms.” She said in a rather assuring voice, however she was always so technical when she addressed it. She never let it get personal. For some reason this worried Allison.

“I know.” Cameron nodded, reaching over in order to touch Remy’s wrist. “But how do you feel about it?”

“Suddenly you are my grief counselor?” Remy asked in a quip, her tone more harsh than she meant it. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Allison shrugged it off, knowing she was being defensive about her emotions. “But you can talk to me about this you know?”

Remy merely nodding, not verbalizing her opinion on that. Saying that this was hard was an understatement. Talking to the person you had worked around and with for some time now, and started having feelings for (or at the very least inklings) was difficult. It was especially difficult given that she actually knew she was dying. Remy let out a breath and then another.

Yet again, only the sound of a consistent heartbeat filled the room. Allison wanted so painstakingly to say something else, but what does one say? After all her exposure to death and dying people, she was surprised (though not entirely) that now would be the time she would choke up. However, Dr. Hadley took care of that for her.

“Dr. Cameron…” Remy started. “What would you do… if you were told that you had eight to ten years to live? And that the slowly passing agony from now until then would be the worst pain you could ever imagine?”

Talking about the Huntington’s Disease which would ravage her was something Remy made an art at turning into something morbid, horrid. It usually got people off the subject with an uncomfortable segway, or an interjection prompted by someone else, not Cameron. Cameron was different. 

“I suppose…” She started, thinking over the options. “I suppose I would do all the things I wanted to while I could, like traveling, learning a new language… things like that.”

“What about people?” She questioned further.

“I would let them know how I felt about them, and I would be honest.” Allison replied without the slightest bit of doubt or hesitation.

Remy merely nodded, taking a breath to steady her ever-racing thoughts. Her nerves, too. Then, with a slight twist of her head, her eyes locked with Cameron’s and she let her lips part slightly, waiting just a moment.

“Allison…”

[just-a-writer-type]

Seraphina | Klaus Mikaelson and Ziva David | Prompt 2 | (May make this into a full-length fan fiction)

Lying in bed, Ziva stared out the window, her heart beating quickly with her nervousness. She hated this. Trained as she was, she was not used to having to live in constant fear. However, since finding out she was carrying the spawn of hybrid Klaus Mikaelson, that is all her life has been. Ziva chastised herself a considerable amount for having drank as she had the night she spread her legs for Klaus. She had long since quit NCIS, and all government jobs, but now more than ever she wished she had a gun, and silver bullets. She heard the door creak open and she sat up vehemently. Her respiration increased greatly.

“Relax love, it’s just me.” Klaus’ voice reassured in a soothing British accent.

“Oh, yeah. Like that is so comforting.” She deadpanned, the sarcasm noted as she rolled her eyes.

Klaus sighed, wishing now more than ever that she would be much kinder to him, though he understood. With sure footing, he strode over to the Israeli whom carried his child, the child he had actually started caring for in his own special way.

“Are you feeling ill?” Klaus questioned as he sat by Ziva’s feet.

She shook her head, though she sincerely doubted he truly cared at all. Who is to say she would even see the child after she had it? It was one thing she feared.

“I am alright.” She spoke when he did not seem to let that go. “May I go back to sleep now?”

Her question was harshly toned, and Klaus understood why as well for this issue. He shook his head.

“Please, wait.” Klaus said, the word ‘please’ sounding so foreign to Ziva on his lips, and not just due to the language barrier. Did Klaus ever say please?

“Why?” Ziva asked him, crossing her arms.

“I want to talk to you, about you and the baby.” He admitted.

“And I would rather wait until a decent hour. Is that too much to ask of you? Because I do not think it would be… considering.” The Israeli snapped.

He sat there a moment, his blue eyes darting between her brown ones as he remained deathly silent. When he shook his head, she let out a humph slightly and lied back down.

“That is what I thought.” She added as she pulled the covers over her and her growing abdomen.

However, he did not go anywhere. Klaus waited for the longest time, sighing as he sat there, anticipating her descent into sleep. When he was sure she was asleep, he lied down beside her. He could smell her blood, and he could hear two steady heartbeats. He did not know exactly how to feel then. Klaus merely allowed his hand to rest on the abdomen which contained Seraphina, the first known hybrid to have been spawned from a vampire/werewolf hybrid and a human.