leather duffel


Summary: Tim and Jason go undercover as a just-married couple celebrating their honeymoon in order to catch a high-profile drug lord. Hand-holding, kissing, secret rendezvous and bed sharing ahead.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15K 


“Will that be all, Mr. Drake-Wayne?”

Tim’s eyes snapped back to the pretty woman standing behind the concierge desk.

“Umm?” Tim blinked, catching the glare off the golden name tag pinned to her floral dress. He thought, vaguely, that it was almost the same shade as his wedding ring. “What?”

“She asked if we needed anything else, babe,” Jason said suddenly, leaning into the space between Tim’s neck and shoulder and planting a quick, chaste kiss. “Jetlag already?”

It was only a quick brush of skin against skin, hardly anything; and yet, Tim felt almost too big for his body, fighting a sudden urgency to sink into the depth of some unnameable feeling that pulsed hotly just beneath his skin.

The woman laughed and slid over two sleek hotel card keys, rattling off several free amenities, pool hours and how to book a couple’s massage at the spa.

“Thank you,” Jason said, somewhere next to Tim’s ear. When he reached from behind Tim to grab the card keys off the polished marble, his chest pressed against Tim’s back in a wall of sudden warmth. Jason was a wall of sunlight against Tim’s back, and he smelt better than any person had a right to after flying so many hours on a stuffy plane.

When Tim didn’t move quickly enough, Jason brushed Tim’s hand away from his suitcase. “Come on,” he said, pulling it behind with his own as he moved away from the concierge desk.

The unexpected gesture caught Tim off guard, but Jason looked calm and unconcerned as they dodged a sea of incoming tourists all donning different versions of the same floral shirts and sundresses. The resort was both stunningly beautiful and modern, a place that looked as if it were made for granting wishes for nothing more than a quick slide of a plastic.

As they waited for the elevators to ping to the lobby floor, Tim tried to process the madness of the past four days.

The case.

The feel of Jason standing so close next to him.

It was only another moment before the doors opened, and they moved to stand in the center of the empty elevator. Jason winked at the attendant and wrapped a strong arm around Tim’s waist.

“Honeymoon suite,” Jason said.

His grip made Tim’s adrenaline spike, and if his voice was the sound of a motorcycle’s engine revving as the doors shut, his touch felt like racing through sloping hills in the middle of the night with the lights off, the pavement rushing up to meet the raw burn of tire.

The attendant gave a tired smile, but paid them no special interest nor sympathy for Tim’s personal crisis. He probably heard nothing but excited, trivial chatter from couples and families visiting the resort from all over the world.

It should not have been so difficult for Tim to slip into his character for this mission, but he found himself feeling awkward and unsure standing next to his partner. The dreamlike daze he’d been stuck in all morning was quickly fading away, leaving him restless and distracted. The gentle flux of the elevator did little to ease his nerves.

“Well, look,” Jason said into Tim’s ear, his lips almost brushing against his skin. “Isn’t that interesting?”

Tim stiffened, but turned his head to stare out the elevator’s back wall, which was made of strong plexiglass. He watched their target guide two men through the white, marble lobby below. They were well-dressed in expensive suits that stood out in the sea of Hawaiian florals, and each carried two leather duffel bags.

Mr. Javier Bello, The Shark.

He was the owner of the resort property they were currently staying and leader of an organized crime ring importing drugs into Gotham. Dick had been tracking him for the last six months, building a case backwards from Bludhaven and tracing crates back to this hotel. Red Hood worked in tandem, terrorizing the docks and blowing up every unreported shipment until one of Enrico Inzerillo’s men confirmed the connection.

And then Dick got caught up in something bigger than this with Damian, and despite the months of prep work and planning, Tim found himself thrown into the middle of the case, playing catch up and house with Jason, of all people.

Bello and his men disappeared from view, and Tim was left to ponder the negative space between his body and Jason’s, who hadn’t moved away after bending down to whisper into his ear.

Intimacy wasn’t a foreign concept to Tim, despite his track record. Affected intimacy was even less-so, as he’d played dozens of roles while on the job, including a hopelessly clueless boyfriend to an overzealous honeypot. It was something he’d trained for, something they’d all been exposed to at one time or another while working for Bruce.

But Tim had never had to work with someone he liked.

When the elevator dinged at their floor, the attendant offered to help with their luggage. Jason responded with a few words in Spanish, too quick and low for Tim to decipher the meaning. Whatever he’d said had made the older man laugh, his tired gaze sliding from beneath wrinkled eyelids to study Tim.

Jason was charming, but Tim had already known that. All of Bruce’s wardens knew how to turn it on and off; it was a practiced skill, like most things in their line of work. But Jason wore it almost too well, like a perfectly tailored suit or an expensive haircut. His playfulness went deeper, felt more natural, and Tim remembered why he’d never gotten into bed with Jason on something like this before.

It was too dangerous, how desperately Tim wanted all of it to be real. Wanted all of Jason’s warmth and his bitterness, his rage and his humor — even the slanted edge of his wolfish smile — all for himself.

When he pushed open the hotel door that led to their suite, Jason whistled. “Remind me to get hitched more often.”

A large, white bed sat at the center of the room, and Tim’s eyes skated past it with a sense of impending dread. Shiny wooden floors gave way to three floor-to-ceiling panes of glass leading out to a balcony that overlooked a small stretch of beach and miles of blue-green ocean.

A spacious, open bathroom rested to the right of the bed, separated by bamboo slats that made the room feel larger. Behind the divider was a porcelain bathtub, large enough to easily fit two people, and behind that, a small tiled shower. An unopened bottle of champagne chilled in a wooden bucket near the tub, two empty glasses waiting for them to toast to their eternal happiness.

Tim ignored it all.

Denial, at least, was something that he was infinitely good at practicing.

When he re-entered the main room, Jason was running his fingers through a line of red and pink rose petals that the hotel staff had arranged into a heart on their bed. The sight of such a cliched welcoming made Tim want to run and take the next flight out back to Gotham. But the way Jason pinched a soft, red petal between his fingers stirred every midnight thought that Tim had locked in the back of his mind, a warning breeze slipping between guilty pleasures that refused to wilt.

When Jason realized Tim was standing behind him, he lifted his head and grinned. “I think they want us to have sex,” he said, throwing a handful of flower petals at Tim’s head.

“Just check for bugs,” Tim ordered, hastily brushing the petals from where they had settled in his hair. He made a beeline for the balcony, and the sound of Jason’s warm laughter followed.

Keep reading

pilindiel  asked:

❝ Did you just throw a sock ball at me!? ❞ (pairing is up to you!)

::slips this beneath your door and runs away::

Never before in his life might Kaoru have imagined himself wanting to be anywhere rather than Spain.

Here he is, however. One of two tired bodies stewing with impatience and contemplation in an otherwise empty gate somewhere deep in the bowels of El Prat Airport.

He can hear the muffled voices announcing the status of various flights across the loudspeakers, but chooses to ignore the voice in favor of maxing out the volume on his ear buds, instead. He nestles deeper into the worn leather duffel that has for years accompanied him from one continent to another, and is grateful for its familiarity while so much else appears to stay suspended in the air.

It’s not every day he finds himself making the choice to not board the first-class accommodations meant to take himself and his friends back to Boston—a place he’s come to consider a home away from home.

It’s even less often he’s being voluntold to do so by the likes of Tamaki Suoh, who apparently seeks steadfast and appropriate company for his best friend during the long journey home.

Sitting up, Kaoru looks across the terminal at Kyoya and sighs. He too is lying down, glasses folded across his chest, which with each breath steadily moves up and down.

Don Quixote, chasing girls across Spain… What am I even doing here?

Right about now, the only thing Kaoru wants more than answers is to not sit alone with all of this quiet reverie and internal banter.

That’s it.

His choice is made, reckless though it may be.

Eyes never moving from Kyoya’s chest, Kaoru slowly reaches inside of his duffel. Years of existing alongside Hikaru have helped him grow accustomed to acting with a certain level of stealth in order to accomplish the tasks he wishes to achieve.

Maybe it’s the boredom, or maybe it’s the morbid curiosity, but Kaoru keeps his eyes wide open when the protracted item leaves his grasp and clears the target he’s made of Kyoya’s head.

Within seconds Kyoya is up, startled from whatever peace these silent moments might have offered, when he finds the culprit of this disturbance now resting by his hand. Despite the slightly bewildered expression Kyoya now wears, Kaoru does not blink.

“Did you throw a sock ball at me?”

“Do you like Nanako-chan?”

“Kaoru, my question is clearly a statement, while your question is leaving me with more inquiries than answers.”

He’s irritated, Kyoya knows, and he knows the wait for their next flight has nothing to do with it. If anything, it’s the way that the two of them have quietly been building a personal rapport that made Kaoru’s company something of a comfort. Perhaps under different circumstances, even a delight.

“I know,” Kaoru’s words slip through bated breaths as he starts, “you backed out of that flight because your father paid for it. I know you want something new. And I mean no insult to him or your brothers when I say that this weekend you just looked like you were so done with them.”

Kyoya nods, unoffended because to start, Kaoru is not wrong, but more importantly on account that this truth is coming from him.

“But Nanako?” A small laugh escapes insecure lips, “She is amazing. She’s intelligent, impulsive, and beautiful and knows all of that about herself. And she allowed you to humble her. That girl is amazing.”

From where he sits on the floor, several yards away from Kaoru, Kyoya is certain he can see him shaking and perhaps worse than the careless shards of truth he’s gleaned from his father, this is an entirely different brand of hurt. It burns.

The words come slowly, so slow that Kyoya chooses to gather his things and move closer, instead. It’s mere seconds, but is somehow enough time to garner what he needs.

“I do want something new.” Shoving the socks back into Kaoru’s hand, Kyoya chooses to linger instead of extracting his touch. “I’ll go along with them for now, because I have to. But it won’t be much longer before my decisions are entirely my own.”

Frustrating as the circumstances may be, it’s endearing to see Kaoru like this. And if Kyoya is being entirely honest with himself—which he’s been working on—it’s also rather flattering.

“As for Nanako-san,” he continues, “The thought of me pursuing her company beyond this weekend would be an absolute fool’s errand.”

Kaoru smiles weakly at this, though he does take advantage of the opportunity to lean into Kyoya’s touch. There is comfort to be had in the realization that his affections have not been misplaced, and it’s enough to fortify Kaoru’s confidence in himself to remain a patient man.

The way in which Kyoya gathers Kaoru’s hand into his own, cradling and considering the palm that now sits open on his lap, is simply the most decadent, delicious icing that could be put on the cake.

PCA Vote Drabble #3

Y'all can blame @bawsanity for this

I hate my life
Hold on to me
And if you ever decide to leave
Then I’ll go
I’ll go
I’ll go

Ginny’s French-braiding her hair when the doorbell rings. She pushes off the couch and goes to answer it, wondering who’s so bold as to drop by unannounced. She’s had her fair share of visitors since It happened, but she’s managed just enough vitriol to make herself a recluse for the past week. She’s not surprised to find Mike on the other side. He’s the only person who won’t leave her alone. He won’t let her settle into bitterness no matter how much she wants to.

He’s dressed for once, that tattered leather jacket of his still around despite popular demand to the contrary. And carrying a big leather duffel bag. His face is its usual unsmiling self and Ginny can’t help but grin at him. She doesn’t smile much these days but the sight of him does it for her. “Hey old man. You didn’t bring me anything to eat?”

He shakes his head, gestures to come inside. “I just stopped by to tell you goodbye.”

“Somebody shipping you off to the old folks’ home?” She jokes to keep her stomach from digesting itself. He’s been officially retired since It happened and she’s teased him about stealing her thunder.

He shakes his head, smirking only briefly before his expression returns to its usual seriousness. “No, Gin. Listen to me. I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore, be here. And don’t tell me I’m quitting because I gave this town almost two decades of my life. The rest is mine.”

Ginny looks at the bag again. “What do you mean by leaving? Where are you going?”

He shrugs. “First stop is Jamaica. After that, I don’t know.”

Her eyes dart to the bag once more then back to his face. He hasn’t cracked a smile yet. “You’re serious.”

He nods. “It’s time for something different, Baker. I don’t know what but…”

Ginny moves around him and shuts the door. “When are you leaving?”

“Flight’s at 6. I just wanted to tell you goodbye. I texted Blip that I was taking off for a while, but I wanted to tell you in person since…”

He can’t go without letting her know. He thought about it, but after everything that had happened between him, he needs to see those eyes just one more time. Ginny nods then turns and heads into her bedroom. He drops his bag and follows without a thought, hoping she isn’t going to cry. He’ll never be able to leave her if she cries.

But she’s not thrown across her bed sobbing. He finds her in her closet, pulling things off her clothing rack. In an open suitcase on the floor are her favorite trainers. She tosses clothes on top of them then moves to a chest of drawers and begins removing underwear. “Baker, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you,” she answers as if it’s that simple.


She stops, turns to look at him.

“I’m done, Mike. Baseball’s the only thing I’ve ever known how to do and I can’t even do it anymore. What am I supposed to do? Take a pity position at ESPN? Spend the rest of my life being a trivia question? Maybe do a stint on Dancing with the Stars? I can’t go out like that.” She shakes her head, goes back to packing. “Besides, if we were somewhere else…”

She doesn’t have to finish. It’s been on his mind since he called to tell her he wouldn’t be back and she quietly admitted the same. She wasn’t sure what hurt more: her arm or the knowledge that her groundbreaking career was bookended by a lackluster start and Tommy Johns surgery. And this thing–this strange, intense almost–has been lingering between them since his trade fell through. Somewhere else–somewhere on a beach where no one knew them–their almost could become a definitely.

So Ginny throws everything she needs into a bag and changes out of her sweats into jeans and leather jacket of her own. She undoes her half a braid and pulls her hair into a loose topknot then slips on wayfarers not unlike Mike’s trademark pair. Mike watches all of this from her bed until she turns to look at him. “Shouldn’t you call and get me a ticket?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve got two first class seats.”


“I hate sitting beside people,” he replies with a shrug. He smiles. “Present company excluded.”

She closes her suitcase, sends Evelyn a quick text about sneaking away to clear her head, and they leave her hotel through the service entrance in the back of the kitchen. Ginny hands the cook who lets them out a twenty. “You didn’t see us.”

He nods and shuts the door behind them. Ginny doesn’t know that he’s fresh off the boat from Puerto Rico, isn’t even entirely sure who they are. They drive to the airport and Mike uses a little charm to change the name on one of his seats for Ginny. Ginny’s relieved when the use of their full first names inexplicably prevents the airport employee from making the connection.

Eight hours later, they’re lying on a blindingly white beach, using the setting sun to dry them from their dip in the ocean. It was their first stop, their luggage still untouched in their tiny bungalow. Mike reaches over, traces the almost invisible surgical star. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Me either,” she replies.

He frowns. “Do you wanna go back?”

She shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face. “Never.”

I Hear Newcastle is Dreadful This Time of Year

A Johnlock ficlet for jamlockk to cheer her up after a bad morning today!

TW for Sherlock not eating properly and very vague mentions of alcoholism.

Follow the cut for the entire work.

John mentions it casually, over tea and toast on a Saturday morning.  “Something something Harry something out of rehab something shouldn’t be alone something something two weeks something Sherlock did you even hear what I said?”  Sherlock processed exactly nothing of what he said, but he nods and parrots back John’s words precisely and the subject is dropped.

All of a sudden it is a week or an hour or some amount of days later and Sherlock is for some reason standing on the pavement outside the flat and John has a cab waiting and his leather duffel slung over his shoulder and is saying things like “I’ll see you in two weeks” and “Don’t burn the flat down, yeah?”

Sherlock realizes he has missed something rather relevant.

“You’re going away.”

John’s mouth drops open and he tips his head skyward in exasperation.

“Yes, Sherlock, I have to.  We talked about this! It’s family.  She needs someone to stay with her and there isn’t anyone else.”

Did they talk about this? Sherlock wants to say, ‘You hate your sister.  You don’t want to fly to Newcastle.  I hate when you leave.  I don’t want you to fly to Newcastle.’

He says, “I won’t burn the flat down.”

The exasperation fades from John’s expression and is replaced by a smile that looks half-hearted.

“Right,” he says, hesitantly reaching out his left hand and clapping Sherlock gently on the shoulder.  “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Sherlock watches him climb into the cab.  When it’s gone, he goes back upstairs and sits down at his microscope and fiddles with pointless experiments until the sun comes back up again the next morning.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hiccstrid we have the same luggage and didn’t check the tags before we left so i’m calling you to exchange suitcases (and you also had some interesting things in your bag so i’m excited to meet you) au

I tried.  This was the one airport au that I didn’t have an idea for right off the bat, but I hope it’s alright.  


“Hello?”  Astrid frowns at the commotion on the other end of the line, checking the number she dialed with the one on the luggage tag again.  They’re the same and she speaks a little louder, “Hi is this…” she can’t quite read the name on the tag, the handwriting is messy and small and she focuses on the slightly clearer last name, “is this Mr. Haddock?” 

Keep reading

Just Right (A Joshifer One Shot for SDCC)

A/N: Hey, y’all. Clearly I am still trash for these dorks. I could write endless tales about things that Comic Con unearthed, but I missed writing platonic and yet crazy flirty Joshifer, so here we are. I hope you enjoy it. (Oh, and this is like insanely unedited, so please excuse my mistakes. There are probably lots)

Contains some brief adult content and mentions of infidelity. 

Berlin, June 2014

It had been a long day. Filming was bright and early and finished up late, not to mention the after party that had stretched on into the single-digit hours of the morning. I was drained, so was everyone. Especially Josh.

That was the reason we gave ourselves for wanting to spend the night together. His rental was closer to the set than mine, so it was a shorter walk, and he jokingly said he was worried about me now that it was the last day. The fact that tears had leaked out of my eyes when I tried to tell him I was fine didn’t help deter him.

I forgot whose idea it was to sleep in the same bed. His, probably.

Keep reading


Kipper Clothiers has reached over $20,000 of our $30,000 goal on our Kickstarter Campaign! Thanks to everyone who has donated so far! Let’s keep it going! 

We still have a lot of great merchandise, be sure to CLICK HERE to claim one of these awesome rewards

5 Holiday Shipping Deadlines You Don’t Want to Miss

Finish up your online holiday shopping before it’s too late!

Make your life easier and take advantage of online shopping this holiday season. With only a few days left before the shipping deadline cutoff, we’ve rounded up our top five e-commerce sites to shop for friends and family. Finish up your list and order your gifts now so that they can arrive just in time for Christmas, from Urban Outfitters, ASOS, Nordstrom, Need Supply and Topshop/Topman! 1. Urban Outfitters FREE SHIPPING, No Minimum! GET IT BY 12/24! Select Standard by 12/17. For 3 days only, take 25% off your order with these selects from women’s, men’s and apartment. Editors’ Picks: Urban Outfitters Women’s & Men’s

Cleobella Adela Ikat Blazer

Ecote Shearling Saddle Bag

Vagabond Marja Double Buckle Oxford

Brixton Ace Jacket

Will Leather Goods Traveler Duffel Bag

Frye Chambers Cap-Toe High-Top Shoe

2. ASOS Last days to order for standard shipping is 12/16 and express shipping is 12/121. Take 30% off these last minute gifts for women and men.
Editors’ Picks: ASOS Women’s & Men’s

ASOS Sweater With High Neck & Cape Sleeve

ASOS Mongolian Collar


ASOS Cable Sweater

ASOS Watch In Black And Rose Gold

Selected Parka With Fishtail

3. Nordstrom To have your gifts arrive before Christmas, the last day for free standard shipping on all merchandise is 12/21 by 3PM EST.  Editors’ Picks: Nordstrom Women’s & Men’s

‘Chakra’ Skidless Yoga Mat Towel

'Sizzzlee’ Leather Platform Bootie (Women)

'grove Court - Carolyn’ Satchel

Woven Silk Tie

'Denali SE’ Gloves

'Express’ Hanging Travel Kit

4. Need Supply  Free domestic 2 day shipping on orders of $75 or more. Order by 12PM EST on 12/22 to receive by 12/24.  Editors’ Picks: Need Supply Women’s & Men’s

Frieda in Marmor

Cowboy Mule

Anemone Sweater

Liquid Body Flask

M/S Sprint in Black

Norse Top Beanie in Navy

5. Topshop/Topman


Hey USA! FREE shipping and returns. Order by 3PM PST on 12/18 to get it in time for Christmas. If you need it faster, it’s $15 for express shipping.

MAGNUM Heeled Boots

Chunky Faux Fur Coat

Monochrome Pattern Crewneck Sweater


To arrive before Christmas, order before 12/18, shipping is $15. FREE express shipping on all order over $100. 20% off everything holiday until 12/25. 

Navy Nylon Holdall

Cut And Sew Hem Long Sleeve Smart Shirt


LOTD: Harry Styles

Get his effortless rocker style in head-to-toe black and white

Young heartthrob Harry Styles of Brit pop boy band, One Direction, was spotted recently in Los Angeles on his way to perform on Jimmy Kimmel Live. To get his Euro style with a rock ‘n’ roll touch, we’ve pulled four similar products below. From his polka dot button-down and black skinny jeans to his black ankle boots and leather carryall, shop our selection by Chapter, Topman, ASOS and Banana Republic.

Harry Styles in Los Angeles - November 20., 2014.

CHAPTER polka dot shirt

Black Rigid Skinny Jeans

Noose & Monkey Buckle Chelsea Boots

Leather Duffel