leather duffel

anonymous asked:

iMAGINE Y/N HIDING HER RACY UNDERWEAR IN HORCHATA'S BAG/LUGGAGE HAGSJKDGS

She’d sneak it into his carry-on, snickering quietly as she gives him a final hug before he departs the apartment. This will guarantee an embarrassing situation at the airport when the bag goes to be searched. A tad evil, perhaps, but the perfect payback for that time he’d made her wear vibrating underwear to the New York premiere of Dunkirk. A panty for a panty seems fair enough to her.

Harry isn’t aware that it’s in one of the outer pockets of the worn leather duffel, rushing freely through the crowd of people with the bag bouncing against his side. Jeff will kill him if he misses his plane.

His heeled boots echo against the bright white shimmering floor of the building, quick steps causing a mild pain to flare at the palm of his feet. He’s digging into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out his slightly crumpled ticket and tucking it between his lips as he grips the thick strap of his suitcase with one hand, pushing his three-day messy curls out of his eyes with the other.

He’d been in such a rush this morning, a shower had been out of the question.

Harry finally arrives at the gate, checking in with the lady at the counter and swinging his hefty satchel onto the metal crate to be weighed. Everything checks out and he sprints off towards the metal detector, leaving the polite woman behind with a tired smile and a quick, breathy, “thank you.”

He keeps glancing at his watch, eyes wild and panicked as he picks up his pace and at this point in time is when he contemplates never wearing heeled boots ever again. It feels like there’s nails digging into his feet but he can’t afford to slow down.

When he finally reaches the large rectangular arch, he slumps his bag onto the faux marble counter, huffing out a tight sigh. A small, relieved laugh belts out of his cracked lips, the quick walking having winded him more than he’d like to admit.

As his carry-on thuds onto the sleek surface, he sees a flash of bright, sparkly red tinge his peripheral vision, shimmering just out of the corner of his eye.

Harry turns his head completely, stretching his neck upwards to peek over the side of his bag.

He really wishes he hadn’t.

There, on the floor, lays a pair of glittery lace panties with the word “Styles” embroidered across the back of the cherry-colored material. He recognizes the article of clothing as Y/N’s, the custom-made lingerie having been an anniversary gift he’d picked up in a small boutique back in France.

Harry stands there, staring at the sheer red fabric as it lays crumpled on the ground, standing out clear as day against the white tiles of the floor. His cheeks simmer with the same raspberry tint as the undergarment.

He slowly bends down, snatching the panties and looking up sheepishly, meeting the judgey stare of the short elderly woman in charge of sifting through his belongings.

“It’s not mine, it’s my girlfriend’s.” Harry confesses with a nervous chuckle, giving her a teeny embarrassed smile and feeling like his eyeballs are about to melt right out of his skull.

The lady nods her head slowly and dismissively, the grey bun atop her head bouncing to the rhythm of her movements. She simply goes about her business once again, sorting through his things with leisure as her rough voice urges him to pass through the metal detector.

Harry stands there for a second, looking at the material in his palm utterly dumbfounded, not knowing what to do with the underwear. He ends up tucking it into his back pocket, blushing even darker as more people cast him odd glances, small ears glowing bright pink.

His lanky figure slides through the machine with no problem, everything checking out perfectly fine. He hurriedly grabs his luggage, thanking the worker and slugging the sack over his broad shoulder once again. Harry takes off towards the loading area, his blue silk, Japanese-blossom-patterned shirt flapping behind his torso as he makes haste. He can feel the old lady’s disapproving gaze burning down his spine until he rounds the corner.

Y/N is so going to pay for this.

Honeymoon

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 


1.

“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.

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Frustrated & Stressed part 2

The overflowing motivation and inspiration was dwindling down by day 4 and was completely gone by day 5. I managed to finish the nervous system the other day and as I was starting on the muscular system the following day, our group from another course had an emergency meeting. Apparently the script that I had made for our short film was lost. Although we were able to recover it, half of the script was gone. So I had to look up the file and resend it again. Day 4 seemed to be an unlucky day for me. I was summoned all day by various group activities and by the time it was all over, the sun has set and my time was running out.

As soon as I got back to my apartment, I immediately went straight to my drawings which I had left on my floor a couple hours ago in my mad dash to other committments. I haven’t felt as busy as today in my entire life.

But Day 5 proved me wrong.

Last night, I have finished colouring the nervous system and have managed to do a quick outline for the muscular before I literally passed out on the floor. So now I wake with a kink in my neck and lower back due to the uncomfortable position I was in all night.

I eventually got up and looked around the mess I had made. Scattered all over the floor were art supplies, sketches, notebooks and I had various medical books open in front of me. I couldn’t remember how much studying I got last night so that meant I have to re-read them again.

“Later,” I muttered. It was only a little after nine in the morning so I have enough time to finish everything before immersing myself in this again. I decided to take a quick shower to help ease my sore muscles.

After that somewhat relaxing shower, I shut the water off and stumbled back to my room, putting on the most comfortable clothes from my closet. I think it’s Harry’s shirt because of the holes in it and I do not own any band shirts. And judging by the massive KISS printed in front, it’s his.

I went to the kitchen to start up the percolator and noticed the half-eaten sandwich that was starting to spoil on the table. The coffee pot made a noise and I walked over to make myself some. As I took a sip, I thought about my plan for today. The only thing left for me to do was the muscular system visuals then it’s all readings for me. Thinking about the pending work made my shoulders slump. I was so tired. I have poured all of me into this study week plan to get my grades on a good start because I had the awful habit of procrastinating – like any other college student – but when I get spurts of motivation, I take advantage of it. It was the only way I could actually finish things.

So to kind of put the impending at the back of my mind, I decided to do a bit of cleaning because my flat needed it. I started with the kitchen then the bedroom, avoiding the living room so as not to disturb the calm that had blanketed my work space. I finished everything in two hours and I guess that was enough avoiding the inevitable.

I dragged myself to the living room where I sat back down on the floor and gave one last sigh to my school works but as soon as I grabbed my pencil and sketchpad, all thoughts of fatigue, dread and hopelessness vanished and once again I was immersed in a world of colour and curiosity that made me forget about reality for a couple of hours.

I don’t know how long it had been but somewhere between sketching the rectus femoris and the hamstring group, I felt a pang of pain in my midsection. My mind immediately thought of its place as the rectus abdominis and I was sucked back into the system.

I had this thought at the edge of my mind that I was forgetting something but I brushed it off and continued to draw the last of the muscles. After a few more lines, I was finally done. I laid all of them neatly on the floor and admired them. The only thing left to do was to color them in.

Knock. Knock

My head snapped to the direction of my door and I stood up, hearing my bone crack in the process. Yikes. How long have I been sitting there?

Another round of knocks sounded as I stalked over the door. I didn’t bother looking through the peephole as I swung the door open. And there revealed a tall man wearing all black with bags on his hands. I didn’t get the chance to fully inspect him before I was engulfed in a warm hug. But I didn’t need to see him, though, because his familiar scent told me all I needed to know. That he was here, in the flesh and that this was real. “Hey,” he whispered in my ear and pressed a kiss to my head as we both held each other. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until now. I felt my muscles relax as he held me tighter and breathed me in. He has been gone too long.

“Hi,” I finally said, after releasing each other and I got to get a good look at him. He was wearing his dark peacoat – my favorite – over his YSL shirt and some skinny jeans with his tan boots, of course. Slung over his shoulder is his leather duffel bag. He looked more broader, his hair a lot longer and more handsome than before he left for tour. Tour. Wait. “What are you doing here? You have tour.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and smiled amusedly. “It ended months ago, love. Don’t you remember?”

I smacked my head as my mind cleared up a little bit from all those terms I have managed to get stuck in my brain. “Right, right. Of course. You were in LA with Jeff.” I said mostly to myself. I opened the door wider to let him in. “Why didn’t you text me, though? I would have picked you up at the airport or something,” I followed him to the living room where he placed his bags beside the couch where my things were still strewn across the floor. He spun around and laughed at me, “or I could’ve cleaned in here to make the place more presentable.”

Harry gestured for us to move our conversation to the kitchen. “I don’t mind the clutter, it’s nice to see you actually study plus I did text you.”

“You did?” Now that I think of it, I haven’t checked my phone for days. I silently followed him again and as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I was blinded by the fluorescent.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Harry muttered and grabbed both my shoulders. I looked up at him, confused but he just stared at me. His eyes flitted between my own, a crease had formed in the middle of his forhead, and his lips were pressed into a tight line. “When was the last time you slept?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I just woke up a couple hours ago, Harry.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded at him. “How about the last time you ate?” I was going to roll my eyes at him again but I stopped and really thought about it. Harry’s hands left my shoulders and wound them across his chest when I was taking too long to answer as if proving a point.

If I remember correctly, when I woke up this morning I had coffee but that was it. “Uh, I had coffee for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” He looked at me incredulously.

Not this again. I am in no mood to have this conversation with him. I am overly tired and as if the universe was suddenly against me, my stomach grumbled reminding me I still haven’t had lunch. “If it makes you feel any better, we can go grab lunch now.” I offered.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” He scoffed. Seriously, what the hell is his problem? Sure I missed a meal, it’s not like we couldn’t grab one right now. And here I am volunteering to eat and yet he’s still mad at me. What on earth does he want me to do?

I can feel the slight irritation crawling on my skin at the tone of his voice. “What?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Look out the window.”

I looked to my right expecting to see something significant but all I could see was pitch black, I could barely see over my backyard. What was I supposed to be looking at exactly? Everything is dark.

Then it hit me. Dark.

That meant the stars were out and possibly the moon. Night. It was already night time. It was too late for lunch. I glanced back at Harry and grabbed for his wrist where a gold watch was strapped. The tiny clock read 11:45pm. It was almost midnight. It was too late for dinner too. Wow. Time flew by without me noticing. A lot of things seemed to slip my mind lately.

“Baby, are you okay?” Harry’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was now holding my face, his expression soft and his previous anger was replaced with worry. “You’re shaking,” on cue, my senses returned to me and I could feel my body was indeed shaking.

“I–” I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt dizzy and I could feel my body go limp, my knees weakening.

“Woah,” Harry immediately caught me, wrapping both arms around my waist before I hit the ground. He half-carried me over to the bar stool and sat me there. My head lolled forward, landing on his shoulder. “Love, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

I blinked a few times and tried to assess myself. I pulled away from Harry’s shoulder weakly and tried to hold it there as I attempted to speak. He snaked a hand to my cheek where I leaned in for support. “I think I’m h-having hypoglycemia… you know… when… blood sugar is low because of…” I paused, my head spinning. “… and I think I’m dehydrated.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

I squinted as my vision became a little bit blurry. I tried to make out his face, his eyes. His eyes that were once so vibrant and full of life was now dull and full of worry. Because of me. Because of my carelessness. “Do I need to bring you to the hospital?”

“No, no,” I shook my head weakly and winced as the world tipped slightly. “There’s a juice box in the fridge, I think, and I also think there’s a chocolate bar, too.” He looked like he was going to protest about my food choices, probably going to say it wasn’t healthy or some shit so I quickly added, “I need those, first, Harry. Don’t fight me on this one.” And with that, he gently positioned me to lean on the table as he went to the fridge and got what I asked him.

He popped the straw in the box and placed it on my lips. I reluctantly took a sip and was grateful for the liquid as it entered my system but all too soon, it was pulled away from me and was replaced by a bar of Snickers. I took one bite and took my time chewing it. It really bewilders me how I didn’t realize how much time I was spending in my studies so I came to the conclusion that: College is toxic.

Harry waved the candy bar in front of me again but I shook my head to say that I only needed a bite. He pushed back the juice box towards me as he put the chocolate in the fridge and grabbed a water bottle before closing the door.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. I only shrugged in response because I didn’t know if the food had worked its magic on me yet. I brought my hand up to see if I was shaking and still, I was. I sighed to myself and held the juice box between my hands, no longer feeling like drinking it. Harry had his massive hands on my back, rubbing smooth circles on it.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, me sipping here and there, and Harry never ceasing his gentle gestures. He patiently stayed by my side humming things that came to his mind. “I’m sorry,” I finally said after deciding that I was okay now. Harry snapped his head to my direction with furrowed eyebrows. Oh, how I want those lines to go away. “I’m sorry I forgot to eat. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry for getting mad at you, I was just really stressed. I know that’s not an excuse but–”

I was cut off by Harry engulfing me in a tight warm hug. “Shh, are you okay?” Were the first words that flew out of his mouth. He was so kind and it made me feel more guilty than I already am. “What matters is that you’re fine now and that I’m here to take care of you.” He kissed my head before pulling away and looking into my eyes. “You’re okay now, right?”

I nodded. “Do you still want to get some dinner or midnight snack?” I smiled at him.

“No, let’s stay here. I’ll cook us something to eat.” And finally, the dimple that I adored so much, made its appearance on his cheek. To be honest, I was really glad he didn’t want to go out because I still felt weak and I didn’t trust myself to walk, let alone stand up. “Do you wanna go up to your bed?”

I shook my head. “I like watching you cook.” And with that he stood up and started grabbing everything he needed, not before planting another kiss on my forehead.

I momentarily forgot about the school works that were silently calling for my attention from the living room. I’m too tired to go back and face them again, so I let my mind wander over to the curly haired boy in my kitchen who was shaking his bum and dancing to a tune only he could hear. I laughed at him and settled further into my seat with only one thought in my mind: I deserve this little break but I would probably regret this tomorrow.

“C’mon,” Jacob muttered, getting his finger and thumb pinched on the flat of the blade. It was delicate work, he realized, seeing that tiny hand clenched around the handle with a certain white-knuckled desperation. Jacob didn’t want to break the little weapon or the hand holding it, but he didn’t want to get sliced up either. It had to go, at least until he could calm the tiny man down.

The man fought back against his motions with a growing desperation, but nothing could stop the knife from slowly being pulled free of his grip. Jacob could have sworn he could feel the small legs trying to push against the inside of his fist for leverage during the short tug-of-war. One that he would have won instantly if he wasn’t doing his best to not hurt the little guy. Those fingers were tiny.

Once he managed to wrestle the knife free, he immediately set it down next to the tiny leather duffel bag for safe keeping. He stared with a faint frown at the cut on his finger before looking back at the little guy in his fist with a bemused look. “Gotta admit, I didn’t see that coming. Where’d you even get a knife like that?” he asked.

“What’s it to you?” Dean griped, still doing his best to struggle free of the constricting fingers wrapped all the way around him. “I don’t think they come in your size, Sasquatch!” The last thing he was going to do was open up to his captor and go Oh, hey. I made that as a test run for a present I wanted to make my little brother. Silver blade and all.


Excerpt from The Road Not Taken.

Wonderful artwork by @rerak-sketchbook!

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.

“What?”

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.”

“Two?”

“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.

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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

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.  

00000

“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?” 

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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.

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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 DREAMER Sneakers

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

Topshop

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

Topman

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

BLACK WOOL MIX HARRINGTON Jacket