#harm rabb x reader

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New Orleans: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Jr x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni

Takes place after:

Flight Deck - It starts on the flight deck of the USS Allegiance.

Hourglass - You remember the moment you fell in love with Harm.

Happy Birthday (NSFW) - Harm tries to make it home for your birthday.

It’s when Harm steps into the kitchen of your New Orleans apartment that he realises you’re wearing his t-shirt. He’s spent five minutes looking for it in amongst the trail of clothes you left leading to the bedroom before he makes that discovery.

The sunlight streams in through the open windows, the breeze causes the light, gauzy curtains to dance to the melody of the musician on the street as he plays ‘When The Saints Go Marching In” on his trumpet.

It’s eight thirty in the morning on his first day in New Orleans and already he’s in love.

You smile when he wraps his arms around you, the heat from his body permeating the thin shirt, warming your skin. His lips chase up along the curve of your throat and you make that sweet noise again, the one he remembers so fondly from last night.

“You should come back to bed.” He whispers, his fingertips toying with the hem of the t-shirt. “I haven’t given you your birthday present yet.”

“You could give it to me right here on the counter.” You tease, so he does.

Teasing kisses, give way to wandering hands and before he knows it you’re already soaked and keening for him. He tugs your panties down your thighs, the fabric damp with your slick before he slowly enters you from behind.

It’s a different angle from last night, a deeper one, it strikes some cord inside of you that has you chanting his name like a mantra as he fucks you with long, punctuated thrusts. He chases your pleasure, your delirium, his cock raking over that deviant little spot inside of you until your tightening around him. He claps his hand over your mouth because the windows are open and you’re getting a little loud and he can tell it gets you off from the way you grip his dick.

“You want me to come inside you baby?” He whispers into your ear because Harm, he ain’t nothing but a gentleman and this is only the second time you’ve been together. “Like last night?”

You moan against his hand and he smiles against your skin, his fingers tracing circles over your clit. The ecstasy it builds like a crescendo inside of you, each note taking you higher and higher until the rapture hits and you’re coming all over him. You take him with you, his release spilling deep as he buries his face into the side of your neck, stifling his euphoria.

He holds you close in the aftermath, his hands stroking over your sensitive flesh underneathe the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Fuck.” You whisper, your head falling back against his chest. “I wish all my birthdays could start like this.”

His nose trails up along the curve of your throat, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Stick with me.” He murmurs as his thumb traces over the tattoo of the moon and stars on your hip. “And I promise, every single one of them will.”

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Chevy Corvette: Harmon Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie@dizzybee03@snowlover250@kenbechillin@too-strong-to-lose

You are the only woman that Harm has ever let drive his 1969 Cherry Red Corvette ‘Betty’. He’s away six months out of the year and you are the only person he trusts to give her a run around to keep the engine tipping over.

“Drive her to work a couple of days a week or take her out at the weekend.” He requests as he hands over the keys before his latest deployment.

“I’ll make sure to keep your darling happy.” You tease as you place the keys in the drawer by the front door. “Just make sure to keep this darling happy too.”

He smiles at you then with that wolfish grin of his before he takes you bed.

“How’s my baby doing?” He asks when he calls a month later from the USS Allegiance.

You’re standing outside in the sun back in Washington. You have his aviators perched on your head, pushing back your loose hair as you sit inside the Corvette in the parking lot at work.

“Do you mean me or the car?” You ask him and he can’t help but laugh.

“Why not both?” He responds as he adjusts the picture he has beside his bunk. It’s the one of you leaning against the Chevy in nothing but a denim shorts and a white vest top. It had been taken a couple of months ago when he’d told you about the deployment.

“Let me give you something to think about while you’re away.” You’d whispered in his ear, as your fingers curled in his hair. “Any fantasy, anything that’s going to keep you thinking of me when you’re away.”

“There is one thing…” He’d said.

He’s always had a thing for pretty girls and fast cars.  

You’d fulfilled that fantasy and then some. You’re the only woman he’s ever fucked in the Corvette. If that isn’t love, he doesn’t know what it is.

“Have you given any thought to the other thing we talked about?” He asks you as he sits down on the edge of his rig and runs his hand through his dark hair.

“I have.” You say quietly, looking at the antique engagement ring on your finger, the one Harm had left on your nightstand the morning before he left.

“Just think about it.” He’d whispered as he’d smoothed the hair away from your sleepy features. “There’s no pressure.”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought.” You tell him, your thumb chasing over the pretty silver band.  “And I think I’m ready to marry you Captain Rabb.”

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I’ve got a request for Harm and Sav on their wedding night (your last Beau story got me thinking about Harm’s big day)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni

Companion piece to Chevy Corvette - Harm asks you for an answer regarding a very personal question.

There has never been anyone as beautiful as you, especially in white lace. Harm thinks that, the moment he sees you walking down the aisle towards him in an off the shoulder wedding dress. When he puts the silver wedding band on your finger, for the first time in his life he feels complete. It’s never been like this with another woman, they’ve never been able to make him feel the way that you do.

The day moves quickly, the ceremony, the photographs, the reception, it’s a constant stream of congratulations and merriment. Harm finds it exhausting, all he wants is a couple of moments alone with you but you’re constantly being stolen away and so is he.

It’s much later that you find yourselves in the Corvette overlooking the water, the moon shimmering as the waves lap against the dock. Harm’s stayed dry throughout the day, sipping from the champagne flute instead of drinking it. He wants to enjoy the time he spends with you tonight, to treasure it.

He’d intended to drive the two of you back to the hotel but he’d found himself here, at the spot where he’d got down on one knee and proposed to you properly. It’s the place you watch for his ship when you know it’s coming in. A unique scenic space tucked away from the rest of the world.

It’s there that you make love for the first time as man and wife, his fingers threading through your hair as you rock together in the darkness. There has never been a moment as perfect as this, the sensation of being with you underneath the stars. Your breath quickens and your body tightens and Harm, he can’t tear himself away because you are absolutely stunning. You take him with you when you climax, the ecstasy echoing through the night as he spills his release deep.

“Oh Mrs Rabb.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

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Enough: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Inspired by this gif

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc

References to Georgetown

Harm wakes up to the sensation of your fingertips trailing over the scars that line his back and shoulders. The sun is streaming through the gap in the blinds warming his skin as the lightweight sheets drape over his hips. He sighs contently, revelling in your touch. He’s missed mornings like this, ones where he wakes up along side you.

The worst part of the deployments are the mornings that he forgets. When he rolls over half asleep in his rig and reaches for you, only to find you absent.

Nobody has ever made him feel the way that you do, he’s never felt so loved or revered. He longs for that when he’s away.

“How long do I have you for?” You ask him.

There wasn’t time to talk about that last night, he’d got distracted by other things, undressing you, making love to you.

“Forever.” He says half seriously as he turns to face you.

He’d marry you tomorrow if you’d have him.

But you’re not ready for that yet.

He’s not sure you ever will be.

Your last husband had put you through the ringer, he’d manipulated you, cheated on you, made you think it was all in your head. That marriage had been a noose around your neck, slowly choking you to death. You’d barely escaped intact.

You’d both fallen into an easy pattern of landing wherever the other ended up until that point. He barely spent any time at the loft in Union Square, he was always wherever you were. New Orleans, LA, Hawaii, a memorable few months in Sydney.  You’d been together three years when you’d decided to settle in Washington. Harm had never asked for it, it was a choice you’d made on your own volition. Washington was his territory, the place he called home. You’d ended up staying with him for a few days, that had turned into months and before he knew it the two of you were living in domestic bliss.

“Why don’t we look for a place together?” He had asked you one night when you were working at his desk, the one that had very quickly become yours.

It was then that you’d pulled out the listing for the house in Georgetown. You’d been trying to figure out a way to ask him about it for over a week. It was a sign that you wanted to take another risk with him, that you were willing to make a commitment.

“You don’t have to hide things like this from me.” He’d reassured you as he’d drawn you into his lap. “I want everything with you, as much as you can give me.”

“A house in Georgetown is the best I can do for now.” You’d told him, your fingertips ghosting along the line of his cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll ever…”

He’d kissed you then because there had been such uncertainty in your eyes and he’d wanted to chase it all away.

“It’s enough for me.” He’d promised you, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “You’re enough for me.”

He’d meant it then, and as he lies in bed with you and looks into your eyes, he wants you to know he  still does now.

Whatever you’re willing to give, he’s honoured to have.

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Could you write a crossover story featuring Beau/Ally and Harm/Savanna?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @@sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @mandy426 @@al-lethan @thiashazzywriting @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @imaginecrushes @flrboyd @areamir @b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @penguin876 @deliriousfangirl61 @goosterroose @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @marshmallowflufffox @whateversomethingbruh @4everademigod @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @silversprings-mp3

Ladies and gents we got ourselves a crossover! Refs to both Ally's career in JAG and Beau being a flyboy.

It’s in a park by The Naval Yard that Mac first sees Harm again. It’s been nine years since she last laid eyes on him and he still looks as handsome as the day he packed his bag and walked out the door.  He’s standing alongside the coffee kiosk, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark overcoat as he surveys the menu board fixed the outer wall.

She doesn’t expect to see him back in Washington DC, the last she heard he was seeing a girl down in New Orleans, spending all his shore leave celebrating Jazzfest and Madri Grais. That man, she’d thought at the time, he’ll never grow up.  

She hasn’t had a single successful relationship since she left Harmon Rabb and she blames him for that. She blames him for a lot of things. The two of them had made a pact when they’d flipped that coin, he was supposed to stay out of the service, live life as a civilian in San Diego. They’d get married, have a couple of kids.

It had worked for a while but then he’d run into Ally again and it had all started to fall apart. The Admiral's Wife, Mac calls her, because she’d married Beau Simpson a decade ago, the rear admiral in charge of the Top Gun program.

Harm had been her mentor when she was coming up through JAG. He’s walked her down the aisle when she had married Beau at sunset in Cape Rey. Mac remembers she’d been a ferocious little thing, tenacious and fierce in the face of adversity. She packed a hell of a punch in the court room. Mac should know, she’d run up against her a couple of times since taking the promotion in San Diego.

“She’s as good as you.” Mac had told Harm over dinner one night. “And just as infuriating.”

“No.” Harm had responded, sipping from his beer bottle. “She’s better.”

It was Ally that had urged Harm to rejoin the Navy, her and Beau. Mac couldn’t see how unhappy he was at the time, she hadn’t understood it, not really. She remembers the day he’d come home from the airfield, eyes bright with exhilaration. He’d been out flying again with Beau, the two of them were like boys with toys once they got up in the sky. Testing boundaries, playing wargames, showing off. He always ended up at their home afterwards, talking cases over dinner with Ally or swapping war stories with Beau. He would come home with a smile on his face, smelling of cigar smoke, tasting of whiskey.

“I’m re-enlisting.” He’s told her that night after he stepped out of the shower. “It’s a different commission from JAG, it won’t mess up our agreement.”

He was wrong, it had been the end of everything. The posting that Beau had offered him meant he was away on aircraft carriers for six months out of the year, flying jets and sailing ships, the two things he loved most in the world.

Mac had hated him for that, she hated Beau and Ally for giving him that option because now she was the one left behind. The lonely one, the sad one.

It had lasted one deployment.

By the time the next one came up, it was over.   

It was a way of punishing him at the time, she’d expected him to resign his commission, come back with his tail between his legs, but he hadn’t. He’d packed a bag instead and gone to stay with Ally and Beau before shipping out to the USS Allegiance, she hadn’t seen him since. She’d heard stories over the years from mutual friends, places he’d been, women he was seeing. He’d become the Harm she used to know, the one without ties or commitments.

She had always believed they would find their way back to each other. Nine years and thousands of miles later, it’s finally happening on a rainy day in Washington DC.

She doesn’t realise how wrong she is, not until she sees you. You’re hurrying towards him, gesturing with your hands, your voice full of apology. He smiles then, and it’s that smile that completely obliterates her. She’s never seen him smile like that, not in all the years she’s known him.

You’re nothing special, not really. She’d call you pretty as opposed to beautiful, a step down from the women he usually covets. You aren’t military, she can tell from your walk, but you carry, she can see it in the way your coat drapes. Law enforcement then, she assumes. Most likely NCIS.

Strong women, she recalls. That’s what Harm’s attracted to, strong capable women.

It’s when he kisses you, she knows that it’s real. When he cradles your face between his large hands, there’s such tenderness in his expression. He looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world and her heart just breaks. He’s loved before, she realises in that moment but he’s never been in love, not until you.

Her eyes start to sting because for all these years she’s clung to this hope, this stupid ridiculous dream that the two of them were meant for each other. She’d imagined that they’d bump into one another, their eyes would lock and it would be like it was back then. Nights filled with fire and passion, their days adventure and laughter.

That life, it isn’t a reality anymore.

It’s clear that Harm’s moved on and it’s time that Mac does too.

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Harmon 'Harm' Rabb Masterlist

Flight Deck - It starts on the flight deck of the USS Allegiance.

Hourglass - You remember the moment you fell in love with Harm.

New Orleans (NSFW) - Harm wakes up the next morning to find you wearing his shirt.

Nine Months - Harm worries that nine months is too long to be away.

Twilight Hours (NSFW) - Harm thinks of you in the twilight hours.

Happy Birthday (NSFW) - Harm tries to make it home for your birthday.

Georgetown - Harm comes home for the first time to house in Georgetown.

Enough - Harm convinces you that you are enough.

What You Need - You take care of Harm when he needs it.

Night Calls - You recieve a call in the middle of the night.

Strong Women - Harm has always had an attraction to strong women.

Christmas Eve - You visit the Vietnam War Memorial in Harm's place.

Sleepless - Harm knows there's a reason you're not sleeping.

Chevy Corvette - Harm asks you for an answer regarding a very personal question.

Underneath The Stars - You and Harm have a unique wedding night.

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EARLY ACCESS: USSAllegiance!Series Part One: Baby On Board - Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

This week's EARLY ACCESS FIC is USSAllegiance!Series Part One: Baby On Board - Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

The USS Allegiance is five hours away from port when Harm is notified about the newborn his Watch Commander finds in a rarely used storage hold. At first he thinks it’s a joke because to his knowledge he has no pregnant sailors upon his ship.

“She’s in good health considering she’s a few weeks early.” He’s told by the ship’s doctor as he chucks the baby under the chin. “She needs airlifting to the nearest NICU, we’re not equipped to deal with her on board the carrier.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.” He promises as he looks down at the child.

Now available on Patreon

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Driving past a graveyard on a lonesome street

I can't stop thinking of how deranged he looks in this gif

Every Christmas Eve Harm visits the Vietnam War Memorial. He sets a small bouquet of flowers down against the glossy wall before he presses his fingertips to his father’s name and tells him he’s thinking of him.

This year it’s you that goes to the memorial, you that leaves the flowers, you that runs your fingers over the engraving before you tell Harmon Rabb Snr his son is thinking about him somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

“I appreciate you taking the time to do that for me.” Harm tells you over the phone later that evening, the line crackling like crazy and you have to strain your ears to hear the even timbre of his voice.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You say softly as you roll the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing up to your elbows. It’s one of Harm’s, his white one, the scent of his aftershave still clings to the woollen collar as you pull it up just a little higher. “I know how important it is for you.”

This is the first time in over a decade he hasn’t attended the memorial and it weighs heavily on his shoulders. The last time he was in Russia visiting his brother Sergi. The two of them had toasted to their father instead with gold leaf vodka that Sergi had bought especially for the occasion.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly. “About not being there for Christmas.”

It’ll be the first one the two of you have been apart for in your time together. You’ve developed your own traditions over the years. Usually after the memorial you curl up on the couch with Harm’s homemade hot chocolate and watch ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’ his choice, followed by your choice ‘Elf’ and then the joint choice ‘Die Hard’.

Christmas morning is usually spent with Harm in the kitchen, it’s his favourite place in the house. He treats cooking as a form of creative expression and you always reap the benefits with delicious meals he makes. You’d had the kitchen renovated when you’d first moved in so that the worksurfaces fit his 6’4 frame. When Harm was docked in Naples he’d fallen in love with rustic Italian influences, that’s the way the kitchen has been designed. It’s a bright, airy space with wooden cabinets, a steam oven, a stove and indoor gas grill. The dishware came over with him from Perugia, the glassware from Murano. The kitchen table where you share meals is French country, a vintage piece he’d had shipped from a market in England.

When you’re missing him you sit at the kitchen table with your laptop because being in his space amongst these things makes you feel close to him.

“There’ll be other Christmases.” You remind him as you cradle the phone under your chin tucking the couch blanket around your legs. “Besides it’s not like I’m home alone, Alden’s hosting for the rest of us strays. We probably would have ended up there anyway.”

“Has it started snowing there yet?” He asks you and you smile glancing out of the window because Harm loves a white Christmas just as much as you do.

“Just started.” You tell him. “It looks like it’s going to stick.”

There’s silence for a moment and you can feel his longing over the eleven thousand miles that stretch between you.

“Will you think of me tonight?” He says finally, his voice a little rough.

“Harm.” You whisper. “I think about you every night.”

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Sleepless: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @mandy426 @@al-lethan @thiashazzywriting @kmc1989

References to upcoming Nick Torres fic 'Right Place, Right Time'

Everyone has a case that gets to them, one that claws it’s way into your thoughts, keeps you up at night. Harm’s had a few of them over the years, he knows what it’s like to lose yourself, become obsessed, which is why he recognises the behaviour in you.

You’ve barely been home over the past couple of days and when you are, you’re irritable, distracted. You pick at your food before excusing yourself so you can dig through the boxes in the garage, the ones the two of you haven’t managed to unpack yet. He tries to help but you shoo him away. You need space, he guesses and for the first time in the history of your relationship he goes to bed without you.

It's a couple of hours later that he wakes up, he reaches for you only to find you’re not there. The sheets are cold and there’s no indentation in your pillow. He checks the time on his phone.

3:45am.

You haven’t been to bed yet.

He finds you at your desk in the lounge, your head in your hands as you study the dog-eared notebook in front of you, the one with the faded ink and messy handwriting.

“Savanna.” He says quietly, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders. His thumbs chase over the nape of your neck, massaging the space where you hold all your tension.  “Sweetheart, come to bed.”

“I can’t, I’ve got to get through these notes.” You mutter, your fingertips massaging your temples.

“How many times have you re-read the same page?” He asks you, his lips brushing over the back of your head.

Your silence speaks volumes. He sighs as he crouches down in front of your chair, altering the trajectory until the two of you are face to face. You won’t meet his eyes, your head is tilted away, your jaw clenched. He can sense there’s something going on underneath the surface, something you’re not telling him. It prickles at you like a barb scratching at your skin

“Talk to me.” He says quietly, using his fingertips to guide your gaze back to his. “What is it about this case that’s keeping you up?”

He can see the exhaustion in your features, the dark circles, the red rimmed eyes. Your complexion is stark, pale. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you like this, not since the shooting back in LA.

“I was the lead on this one, ten years ago.” You tell him, your palm coming to rest flat upon the notepad. “It was my first assignment after the separation, Robbie was fighting the divorce, everything was messy…”

“You’re worried you missed something.” He says knowingly.

“I didn’t give it my full attention.” You admit, toying with the sleeve of your sweater. “I thought she’d deserted, I didn’t think we’d find her in an unmarked grave almost a decade later.”

You haven’t given him the details of the case not until now but he’s seen flickers of it on the news. A mass grave found in a contractor’s yard, six women including a naval officer in various stages of decomp.

“Her sister works for the Cold Case Unit in the basement, her reaction when Nick told her…” You trail off, your lips pursing together grimly. “I don’t blame her for giving it to me with both barrels.”

“She’s grieving.” He says softly, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “Sometimes as investigators we don’t have the experience, the knowledge to make the pieces fit.”

“I just want to make it right.” You whisper.

He understands that drive, he’d had it after Diane had murdered. He hadn’t been there when she’d needed it and it made him feel culpable. He had run himself into the ground on that case, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him until years later when he’d finally confronted her killer.

“You can’t do that if you can’t function.” He reminds you before he gently tugs you to your feet. “You need to rest, get some sleep.”

“Just a couple hours.” You concede, his fingers entwining with yours as he leads you towards the bedroom.

“Uh huh.” He says non-committedly as he draws back the covers for you.

Harm has no intention of setting the alarm. You’ll sleep for as long as you need to. You’ll be spitting mad when you do wake up but in this case it’s better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. He doesn’t want you out there, hunting down a killer if you aren’t at your best.

He climbs into bed alongside of you, gathering you up in his arms and you tuck yourself against him. Already he can feel you settling, the tension slipping from your body. His lips brush over your forehead as he whispers.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

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Night Calls: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

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Harm’s used to your phone ringing in the middle of the night, it’s one of the concessions that come with your job as an NCIS Special Agent. He doesn’t begrudge you for it, it’s a part of your life the same way the deployments are a part of his.

It doesn’t matter what time it is, Harm always gets up with you. There’s a camaraderie in it, the way he sees it the two of you are a team and it’s his job to support you, morning, noon and night. He usually has a cup of coffee to go ready by the front door, along with your car keys and a snack for the road. It’s his way of making sure you’re fully prepared for whatever you walk into, that you come back to him in one piece.

Tonight though, the phone call is different. He can tell from your reaction. Instead of slipping from the sheets and talking to dispatch, you’re gripping the device so tightly that your knuckles turn white. Your timbre is agitated, harsh, your sentences clipped.

It takes Harm a second to realise who you’re talking to. There’s only one person you reserve that tone for and that’s your ex-husband Robbie. The man who calls you when he’s town because he still wants to fuck you.

You’ve been with Harm for almost four years now and Robbie still can’t get it through his head that you’re not interested. It doesn’t matter that you’ve put down roots in Washington because that’s where Harm is based, as far as Robbie’s concerned you’re still fair game.

He’d told Harm as much when they’d run into each other in the Navy Yard a couple of days ago.  

“She may be sleeping with you.” He’d said, using his thumb to hook the gold chain around his neck and show Harm the wedding ring he still wears. “But she married me.”

He’d wanted to wipe the smug smirk right off the bastard’s face.

The fact that Robbie still carries the ring around that bothers Harm. You think he does it just to piss you off but Harm knows that Robbie still has feelings for you.

He’d fought you every step of the way with the divorce, begging for your forgiveness but you were resolute. There’s some things you can’t forget and discovering you’d caught an STI from your husband was one of them.

“He’s at the hospital.” You inform Harm, tugging on your robe over the dark blue NAVY t-shirt you’re wearing, the one from his days at the academy.  “He was injured in a training accident. He wants me to go down there.”

Harm bites his tongue because he knows what this is, Robbie’s way of trying to force his way back into your life. Harm had told him that you were settling down, that you’d bought a house together and this was his response to the news.

It’s easy to believe your ex may still be in love with you if she’s bouncing around from city to city, even if she is in the company of another man. It’s much harder when she’s moving in with him, and talking about getting a dog.

“What are we doing here?” Harm asks as he climbs out of the bed and stands before you.

His large, warm palms come to rest upon rest upon your shoulders as he looks into your eyes. He can’t read the expression on your face, he can’t tell what it is you need from him. Your hands come to rest on his hips as you lean in close.

“I’m not going.” You say firmly. “It’s just another way of trying to control me.”

The thing is Robbie has done this before, a couple of times. It’s always a bad case, a minor injury, a loss, anything he can think of to garner your sympathy. It always ends the same way, him telling you that he can’t live without you before he tries to get you into bed.

“Yea.” Harm says simply, cradling your face between his hands. “It is.”

Harm kinda gets it. It’s the desperate act of a desperate man, one who is finally starting to understand that you’re moving on without him. Harm knows what it’s like to be loved by you, how every kiss makes it feel like the sun is shining, every touch a gift. Robbie, he squandered your affection but Harm, he appreciates it, treasures it.

“You should go back to bed.” You say softly as his thumb chases over the apple of your cheek. “I’m too pissed off to sleep right now. I’m going to go downstairs, make some nighttime tea and try to forget he even called.”

“Or we could both get back into bed.” Harm suggests, his lips brushing over yours as he guides you back towards the mattress. “And I can help you forget all about him.”

Your robe slips from your shoulders, leaving you clad in his shirt and it does something to Harm. He would never try to possess you, you’re a woman in your own right but seeing you wear his clothes, knowing that you choose to be a part of his life, it ignites a passion in him, one that plays out over the next couple of hours as he loves you with every single fibre of his being.

You’re fast asleep when your phone chimes again, your face buried into the curve of Harm’s throat, limbs entangled with his. He glances over at the charging station, the text preview glowing in the dark.

He can’t love you Savanna, not the way that I love you.

He’s right, Harm thinks as he holds you close. He loves you better than Robbie ever could.

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Hourglass: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @@mandy426 @al-lethan thiashazzywriting @kmc1989

Companion piece to Flight Deck

You can remember the exact moment you fell in love Harm. It was six am on a Tuesday and the two of you were standing at the railing near the back of the aircraft carrier watching the sunrise in the distance, trying to catch your breath. He’d run you ragged that morning, changing up the route a little, throwing in an obstacle or two.

I like to keep things interesting, he’d told you and you could certainly testify to that.

You’d spent three months in his company and you’d told that man things you haven’t spoken about in years. He’d unlocked the parts of you that had shut down after your marriage to Robbie, ignited things inside of you, you didn’t even know existed.

He’s laughing at something you’ve said when he tilts his head towards you. His t-shirt clings to his firm, broad chest, pulling taunt over his shoulders. His navy blue shorts cover his powerful, muscular thighs as you imagine getting on your knees and drawing them down his hips. His flock of dark hair wavers in the breeze as he looks at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Your breath catches in your throat and something blossoms deep down in your chest.

He’s a handsome man, you’re not the only one that thinks so. You see the looks some of the other women give him, the way their gazes stray across his form. You’ve been loved by attractive men before, you married one. It doesn’t mean anything.

Harm though, he’s different. You can see it in the way he listens to people, the way he talks to them. There’s an intimacy in the conversations you have, each one is give and take, a mutual sharing of information. There’s no judgement, no recrimination, just understanding. That’s what makes you fall in love with Harmon Rabb,  his compassion, his empathy.

The hourglass runs out before you can decide what to do about it.

One minute you’re the agent afloat, the next you’re being reassigned to New Orleans to investigate the murder of  NCIS Agent Christopher LeSalle because you have connections in that world. Your replacement is already on route. Your tenure on the USS Allegiance is over.

It’s that moment just before you step onto the flight deck to catch your chopper that you realise there’s a chance that he might feel the same way. He gives you that resigned smile, his palms coming to rest on your shoulders, squeezing lightly and you realise for the first time in five years you don’t want to leave. You’re not talking about the ship, you’re talking about him.

It’s the thought of not seeing him again that drives you. Never in a million years did you think you’d put your heart on the line but you do, because there is just something about Captain Harmon Rabb you can’t shake.

“Come visit me.” You request, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “The next time you have leave, come to New Orleans…”

You trail off then because you start to second guess yourself. You can’t hope that this man feels the same way that you do, you’re asking too much for something that a flirtation at best.

��New Orleans in the Spring could be fun,” He murmurs surprising you, his thumb chases over the line of your jaw as the edges of his mouth tip up into a smile.

You kiss him then and the feel of his lips pressing against yours, it’s better than you ever could have dreamed. Your fingers tangle in his hair drawing him closer and he moans into your mouth.

It’s the crackle of the radio that breaks you apart. It’s clear in that moment that he doesn’t want to let you go, you feel that reluctance acutely as you draw away, your hands still clasped in his.

“Stay safe.” He says softly before releasing you.

“Always Captain.” You murmur before issuing him a salute. “I’ll see you in the spring.”

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What You Need: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @kmc1989

Harm has never been a bath guy, part of that is due to opportunity and the rest practicality. He’s used to three minute showers with a break in the middle for lathering. He’d had it down to an art by the time you’d come along. It’s the one thing you’d hated about being the agent afloat on the carrier.

“You’re a city mouse.” He’d teased you when you’d complained during one of your runs on the flight deck and you’d given him the middle finger.

One of his favourite things about being home is the fact he can shower for as long as he wants. It’s the first thing he does when he gets off deployment. At least it was until you got a place with a bathtub. He’d never had one in the loft, he didn’t see the point. It’s only now as he’s getting older he feels the benefit. All those injuries he’s sustained over the years, they make him ache more days than not, the baths help with that, they sooth over his sore muscles and tired bones.

It's bad today because he’s still acclimating to the change of air pressure, it’s a common issue when you’ve had a couple of broken bones and Harm, he’s had more than just a few. He’s lost count of them throughout the course of his career. He’d tried to hide the stiffness from you this morning, he thought he’d gotten away with it too until you put two painkillers alongside his coffee mug.

It’s hard for him making the switch to being back home sometimes. On the carrier he’s used to putting up a facade, not showing weakness. It’s tough to make the adjustment when he’s back on land. That’s one part of it at least, the other part is he doesn’t want to admit he’s getting old.

He’s still in the prime of his life. He runs five miles a day, he eats well, he stopped smoking years ago but his years with the Navy have been punishing on his body. It’s the cost of doing business.

You’ve already run him a bath by the time he’s finished with breakfast. He can never ask for these things, not in the first couple of days and you understand that. You’ve developed a shorthand over the years, you can deduce his needs before he even acknowledges them.

The thing he loves most about the new house is the tub, it’s a large modern freestanding affair with enough space for two people, which suits him because he’s six foot four. The scent of patchouli and frankincense floods his senses as he lowers himself into the hot water, the heat soothing over his weary bones. The bath oil caresses his skin and he closes his eyes as he sinks even further into the water.

An aromatherapy experience you call it.

God damn heaven is what it is.

His eyes flicker open as you enter the bathroom. You’re wearing that pretty floral kimono he brought back from Singapore, the one that falls mid-thigh. It clings to your form as you set a fresh towel down on the small side table you use to set your book upon. His hand captures yours before you can pull away.

“Join me.” He requests.

“You’re not too sore?” You say softly.

“I just want to hold you for a while.” He assures you.

You’re conscientious when he has days like this and he can’t express how appreciative he is of that. As much as he would love to ravage you again, he’s just not up to it this morning and he knows that’s ok. There’s no pressure when it comes to you, in this or anything else.

He watches as you undress, fingers slowly uncinching the belt of the robe before it slips from your shoulders into a pool on the floor.

Christ you’re beautiful, you take his breath away all the God damned time.

You’re careful as you step into the tub. He clasps your hand, steadying you before you slip into the space in front of him. Your back comes to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping around you as he cradles you close, your head tucking into the hollow of neck.

“Thank you.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your forehead. “Thank you for always knowing what I need.”

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Flight Deck: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader

Tagging: @keyweegirlie @dizzybee03 @@snowlover250 @too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @kmc1989 @kenbechillin

Prequel to Happy Birthday (NSFW) and Georgetown

The first time Harm lays eyes on you is on the flight deck of the USS Allegiance. You’ve just stepped off a chopper from the mainland and he’s greeting you in his flight suit because he landed a plane less than five minutes ago. It’s sounds like the beginning of a Hallmark movie.

He doesn’t realise how attractive you are, not until you take off the helmet. If he was a romantic he’d say that was the moment he fell in love but it isn’t, that comes much later. There’s a spark through, he feels it everytime he looks at you. When you know, you know he thinks retrospectively, he was just too guarded to realise it at the time.

He tries to ignore it but he finds it damn near impossible, because you aren’t like the other NCIS agents afloat, you don’t keep to yourself.

Every morning at five am you’re on the flight deck, stretching before you head out for a run. You catch a few wolf whistles and you salute them with your middle finger, before you take off for your circuit. The thing is Harm runs too, at exactly the same time. He ends up keeping pace with you the majority of the way until it starts to become a race. You pull ahead just a little and before he knows it it’s a sprint to the death. You win, barely.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asks you as you lean back against the railing, struggling to catch your breath.

You give him that smile and he knows in that moment he’s a goner.

It becomes a regular thing, the two of you running on the flight deck. On the days you don’t run, he meets you for a cup of coffee. The two of you watch the sun raise over the horizon while you shoot the breeze over the good stuff, because the coffee in the Officer’s Mess is so much better than the Crew’s. He learns a lot about you in that time. You hail from Cincinnati, leaving behind an ex-husband and not much else. You’ve had eight postings in five years, you never stay anywhere for longer than six months.

It's like looking into the mirror. He hasn’t settled since Mac had broken things off nine years ago. He’s toured the world jumping from carrier to carrier, base to base. It’s the plight of the broken hearted, he finds himself telling you and you laugh because you’ve heard he’s left more than a couple in his wake.

“Does that bother you?” He asks you as he tilts his head towards you.

Your gaze meets his and once more he’s completely captivated. You have such beautiful eyes, he understands how a man could get lost in them. He has many a time over the past three months. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s wanted to reach out and touch you, to run his hands through your hair, to fuck you.

“No.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile. “I’ve left a couple in my wake since the divorce too.”

He knows what it’s like to experience freedom, to taste ecstasy and know that there are no expectations, no complications. It’s beyond liberating but it also gets old. All those one night stands can’t give you the intimacy of being with someone that loves you. He misses that, caring for someone, being cared for in return.

He thinks the two of you could get there if you gave it the chance.

Unfortunately it doesn’t happen because later that day you get word you’re being reassigned to New Orleans, effective immediately. You have thirty minutes to pack before you’re on the chopper to Louisiana.

It’s in the doorway to the flight deck that you pause. He sees you’re hesitation and he wonders if you feel the same sense of loss that he does. There’s so many things that are left unsaid between the two of you, he wants to change that but you have thirty seconds until you need to be up in the air. His hands come to rest on your shoulders, squeezing lightly and he gives you that resigned smile.

“Come visit me.” You say quietly. “The next time you have leave, come to New Orleans…”

You trail off and he understands why. You’re taking a risk, putting yourself out there for the first time since your divorce. If he takes this step then he’d telling you he wants to take this chance, that he’s willing to explore this thing between the two of you, see where it goes.

“New Orleans in the Spring could be fun,” He murmurs, his thumb chasing over the line of your jaw. You kiss him then and it’s like he’s feeling the sun on his skin for the first time in years. When you pull away he isn’t ready, he can tell you aren’t either but the pilot’s radioing through for you to get a move on.

The next time he sees you it’s in a bar in New Orleans, it’s been two months since he’d laid eyes on you and nothing’s changed. Your smile still lights up his heart, your laugh makes him laugh and when he looks into your eyes…

Harm knows there’s no going back.

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🌹 🌹

You’ve barely been home over the past couple of days and when you are, you’re irritable, distracted. You pick at your food before excusing yourself so you can dig through the boxes in the garage, the ones the two of you haven’t managed to unpack yet. Harm tries to help but you shoo him away. You need space, he guesses and for the first time in the history of your relationship he goes to sleep without you.

It's a couple of hours later that he wakes up, he reaches for you only to find you’re not there. The sheets are cold and there’s no indentation in your pillow. He checks the time on his phone.

3:45am.

You haven’t been to bed yet.

Sleepless - Harmon Rabb x Reader - Tuesday 12th March

[bullet-prooflove]

Twilight Hours: Harmon 'Harm' Rabb x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989

Harm thinks of you at night. He lies in his rig staring up at the ceiling as his thumb smooths over the space where you left a lipstick mark upon his chest just before he left.

“Something to carry with you Captain.” You had whispered against his skin as those clever lips delved lower.

You’d ruined him that night with light, teasing fingertips and a mouth that was made for sin. When you finally let him come, he spills himself inside you, that sweet pussy of yours gripping him so tight that he sees a kaleidoscope of stars behind his closed eyes.

It’s been a couple of months since he’s seen you face to face but your emails, the video chats they sustain him.

I think about you all the time Harm, the feel of those calloused hands on my body as I touch myself.

The words, they echo in his ears as he carresses himself underneath the blanket. His palm wraps around his cock, squeezing tightly as he imagines your mouth wrapped around his dick, those pretty eyes of yours fixed on his as his fingertips stroke through your hair.

He’s always soft with you, always tender. He doesn’t fuck your mouth, he lets you set the pace, take your time. You know just the right way to take care of him, how to strip away his control, how to leave him desperate and wanton, calling your name as you pin his hips to the mattress. He can’t move, he can’t think, he’s lost in the sensation of your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock as you take him deep, so deep that he fucking loses it.

He covers his mouth with his palm as he comes, stifling the noise as his release spurts across his fist in thick white streaks. They paint his belly, his abdomen, his hips. It’s been a couple of days since he’s allowed himself any pleasure, he always tries to hold off, save it for the nights you call.

There’s a loneliness in the aftermath, an absence that he feels deep within his heart. The best part of a night with you isn’t the sex, it’s the connection he feels as he holds you close, your limbs entwined with his as he falls asleep. He misses that when he’s afloat, the intimacy. He craves it in the twilight hours, when his mind's quiet and there’s nothing else to focus on.

Just one more month, he thinks as he cleans himself up with the t-shirt he’s worn to bed. One more month until you’re back in his arms.

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🌹

You and Harm are sequestered in the room they use for interrogations, it’s a tiny space tucked in alongside the brig and Harm takes up most of it with his 6’4 frame and broad shoulders. He sits beside you at the small table watching as you scribble in your notepad. It’s part of your process, it helps you organise your thoughts. His arm comes to rest upon the back of your chair, his thumb trailing over the curve of your shoulder and the edges of your mouth tip up into a small smile.

It’s the intimacy he misses, being able to touch you, hold you, love you. Aboard the ship he’s all about maintaining professionalism but it’s tough being this close to you after four months of absence.

USSAlligence Series - Harmon Rabb x Reader