#I KNOW I HAVE THEM. SOMEWHERE. A 7 HOUR PLANE RIDE AWAY

[stick-by-me]

And what a world it is :]

New follower sticker for: @vanillapuppygirl!

[thefallennightmare]

Rest-Nick Folio

Pairings: Nick Folio x Reader

Warnings: maybe a swear or two? fluff, lots of it.

Summary: Reader plans a little rest and relaxation weekend away with Nick after a five-weeklong tour.

Authors Note: Enjoy this cute ass one-shot filled with so much fluff it'll make your teeth rot.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Nick's knee bounced with agitation or excitement.

I wasn't sure.

With a crooked smile, I shook my head. "I told you it's a surprise."

The cab pulled to a stop in front of the busy airport and while Nick grabbed our bags from the trunk; I double-checked our flight reservations along with our bed-and-breakfast reservation. Our flight was scheduled to leave on time, and we would land an hour before check in.

Perfect.

I pocketed my phone then looked over to Nick, who was walking over to me while carrying both of our bags. I offered to carry my own, but he smacked my hand away.

"Three years later and you still try to carry your own bags," he chuckled.

I sighed playfully. "I'm just trying to lighten your load, Nick. You've been working so hard the last few weeks and you only got back last night from tour."

The sounds of planes taking off over head echoed loudly around us as people maneuvered their way throughout the crowds, trying to make their own flights.

With his bag slung over his shoulder and pulling mine behind him, Nick laced our fingers together and we walked into the airport as I led us towards our gate.

"I was fine staying home with you, sweetheart. But you woke me up at five this morning saying you were taking me somewhere," Nick finished with a yawn.

Guilt pulled at my heart seeing how tired he was. Bad Omens finished their five-week-long tour last night in Los Angeles so thankfully, Nick didn't have a long travel day back home but even with him coming home at 2 this morning, I still had to wake him up early so we could make our 10 am flight.

Yesterday when I showed up to the venue for his show, that was the first time in five weeks that I'd seen him. We'd been together for the last three years so I was there from the beginning when Bad Omens were playing the small stages at Warped Tour to now watching them play in sold out venues for the last two tours. Ever since they blew up on Tik Tok and gained such an immense following, all the guy had been working tirelessly to be the best they could for their fans. Touring, writing music, or trying to get in the studio to record. They hadn't had more than a few days off where they weren't doing some kind of work so to say the deserve all the success is an understatement.

To say that Nick deserves this week away I had planned for us was also an understatement.

I also planned that this trip was a strict 'no work vacation,' and I sent a text in the group chat that I created of Noah, Ruffilo, and Jolly to let them know. While Ruffilo and Jolly wished us fun on our vacation, Noah told us all the cons of where we were vacationing too.

You know it rains like all the time in Washington, right? How is Nick going to ride a motorcycle or fish?

It's October, it's probably cold as hell. Why don't you guys go somewhere warm, I'm sure Nick would love to see you in that red bikini.

You sure you don't want us to come with? We could make it a Bad Omens get away and get some time in to write.

I swore my eyes rolled so far to the back of my head; I was sure they'd get stuck. Noah, always the cheeky one. I replied to him saying it was a strict no work vacation with only Nick and I and I'd left the red bikini back home.

"I'm sorry for waking you up so early but I wanted to make sure we'd make our flight," I defended with a slight pout.

Seeing how long the check in line was, I came to a slow halt and checked my watch. It was only 7:30 in the morning which meant we had plenty of time. Nick could tell I was a tad agitated so his thumb began tracing circles on the back of my hand as he held it.

"Can I at least have a hint where we're going?" He asked while bouncing on the soles of his shoes.

Fuck, he looked so good with his bottom lip pouted out like that. It'd been so long since we had sex that I was nearly crawling out of my skin wanting a taste of him. It was hard enough keeping myself off of him in public so when he took off his hat to shake out his hair then place it back on backwards, I nearly moaned into a puddled mess which Nick simply winked in response too.

"You know," I brushed the imaginary lint away from his shirt, "We're on vacation. You don't need to wear a Bad Omens shirt. This is supposed to be a work free trip."

Nick shrugged. "It's comfy."

The line for check in slowly moved up a few paces and when we came to a standstill again, I wrapped myself around him, not giving a shit about PDA.

"I've missed you."

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Nick mused while pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I wish you could have came with this tour."

I pressed my cheek to his chest, breathing him in. "Me too but there was no way my boss would let me take that long off. It was hard enough getting this week off."

We moved up another few steps before coming to another standstill. Since we had plenty of time before takeoff, I wasn't too worried with how long it was taking for check in.

Nick pulled me closer into his chest. "You should quit. I make enough to support the both of us and this way you can come on the Europe leg of the tour in a few weeks."

As tempting as the offer sounded, I was thankful I didn't have to give my answer because the line moved once again. I was about to detach myself from him to walk but Nick held tighter to his grip around my shoulder and walked with me. My hand slipped from his side over to the pocket of his jacket but quickly, Nick shifted which made his arm fall from around me.

I raised a brow. "Jumpy, aren't we?"

He cleared his throat before a smile spread to his lips. "I'm sorry, you scared me that's all."

My eyes narrowed, not believing a word he said, but choosing to ignore his weirdness I turned my attention towards the TSA lady as she began our check-in. Thirty minutes later, Nick and I were sitting in the seats near our gate, me staring out the large window towards the runway and Nick typing feverishly on his phone.

"What's Noah saying?" I didn't bother to ask who he was texting because I already knew it was Noah.

Nick turned off the screen then pocketed his phone. "He wanted to make sure we made it to the airport."

Bullshit.

Something was weird with Nick since the incident with me reaching over the pocket of his jacket. Here I was hiding this secret vacation all the while he was hiding something from me.

"Right," I muttered, leaning far back into my seat.

He let out a long breath and linked our fingers together, his thumb brushing across the skin of my hand, and the gentle touch made me rest my head against his shoulder. I felt every breath in and out he took, head rising and falling, and Nick tilted up my chin towards him so he could capture my lips in a kiss. It wasn't a full-blown make-out session, but deep enough to make my head spin and heart flutter.

"What was that for?" I asked breathlessly.

"I just wanted to kiss you, that's all."

By now, more people arrived at the gate, building a slight crowd, and inevitably, someone would notice Nick; someone always did. It wasn't like we were hiding our relationship but Nick never publicly made it known to everyone on the internet we were dating. Pictures of us filtered all throughout the web and people made their own assumptions, as they always did. I didn't mind if Nick kept our relationship on the down low because that meant we could enjoy the quietness of our relationship for a day longer.

"Someone might notice," I jokingly teased.

Nick hummed before leaving another kiss on my lips. "Let them."

I giggled into his lips and cupped his cheek as we pulled away. "I'm still not telling you where we're going."

Somehow, I kept it hidden what our destination was even at the gate because Nick seemed to be preoccupied with something else.

With a pout on his lips, he let me settle back into him by linking our hands back together.

Six days later and I was exhausted.

Nick was surprised and very ecstatic that I planned a vacation in Washington State. We hiked a few of the national parks; he fished almost every day, and we ended each night with a motorcycle ride, one we rented for the week. The weather was beautiful but not quite warm enough for that red bikini. When we weren't out doing things, Nick and I were laid up in bed at the bed-and-breakfast doing other things. Today was our last day, and I was more than ready to spend it in bed, continuing to do those other things, but Nick had other plans.

"Can you tell me where we're going?" I begged as I held onto his arm.

He lead me from the car up towards the forest trail, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, how the tables have turned."

Rolling my eyes, I watched as the setting sun cast us in an orange glow and marveled at how gorgeous Nick looked tonight. He wore a simple black shirt with jeans to match and his hair was slicked back. A bit dressed up for hiking but nonetheless, he was breathtaking.

"This will work," he said while coming to a stop.

I gasped when I stared down over the mountain ledge. Orange, yellow, and brown leaves atop of the trees and a flowing stream down below; the sound creating the perfect background noise to the atmosphere. Everything about the scene was beautiful that I pulled out my phone to snap a few pictures, oblivious to Nick who was standing right behind me.

"Sweetheart?"

"Hm?" I turned on my heels and this time, instead of gasping at the scene, I let out a high-pitched squeal. Nick was kneeling on one knee with a black velvet box in his hand, unopened. Sweat gathered at his brow as he let out a long, shaky breath.

"The last three years have been the most baffling but amazing years. You've stayed by my side through the lowest times of my life and the highest of highs with the band. When I thought we wouldn't make it big, you were there to cheer all of us on during our first show. You were there when we played our first sold-out show, and I hope you'll continue to be there when we win a Grammy."

Tears pooled at my eyes as I covered a hand over my mouth.

"I know being with me hasn't been the easiest sometimes. I'm almost always on the road or with the guys recording but yet, you still welcome me home with loving arms. You're everything I could ever ask for and then some. I truly don't deserve this but I am so thankful you haven't given up on me. You planned this entire weekend away so I can rest and I'm kind of high jacking the rest of the trip but I've been planning this for a long time. I wanted to ask you before I left for the Europe leg."

Nick let out another shaky breath as he opened the box; a black diamond with a gold band catching the light of the setting sun.

"Oh, shit," I muttered.

"I love you so much, Y/N. Will you marry-."

"Fuck yes!" I shouted, not letting him finish.

With his own tears falling over his cheeks, Nick pulled out the ring, and it slid over my finger with ease. I jumped up, wrapping myself around him and crashed my lips onto his. His tongue immediately pushed its way into my mouth, tasting every inch, and my hands scratched and pulled at his hair. I nibbled on his bottom lip as he reluctantly pulled away. Both of us were crying happy tears, me more so than Nick, and he brushed them away with one hand while the other kept me hoisted up in his arms.

"Did the guys know about this?" I asked.

"Yeah, why do you think Noah wanted to tag along?" Nick chuckled.

I gently brushed the hair away from his eyes so I could stare deep into them. "Still want to support me?"

At first, he looked at me with a raised brow but then as he thought back to what he said back in the airport, he eagerly nodded. "Whatever you want, sweetheart, it's yours."

"Well," I kissed his lips tenderly. "Looks like I'm coming to Europe with you."

[haloguyfttp]

Hi, my name's Rode. What follows is a very long post because I'm depressed and feeling very lost, confused, and hopeless.

In 2016, I was diagnosed with Autism. At the same time, I was in a (questionable) relationship with someone, which ended in failure. The solitude and sadness of a failed relationship, coupled with this diagnosis, drove me to an extreme depression.

Funnily enough, I persevered for a while, coming to school regardless, and a friend of mine brought a new person into our small 3-person friend group. After a bit of a mess, I would enter a relationship with this person, one far more fulfilling than the 1st. Despite this, I for some stupid reason threw it away, saying things I had no reason to, and since he too wasn't 100%, the relationship and friendship ended there. Despite my attempts, he never contacted me again.

At this point, I've stopped attending school. I was taking medicine to help with my now horrid depression, and I only left the house on occasion to buy groceries for my parents, or go to my friend's house. Frankly, I don't know what happened after this. 2017 is pretty much lost to time, that's how bad my state was. What did happen was that 2017 was the year I became a NEET. I was technically still enrolled in school, if only for the next year until I "graduated", whereupon I would have a result sheet of nothing but Fs, as I never went to the final exam, nor attended any classes.

I don't know when in this timeline, I think somewhere in 2016(?), but the person from the 1st relationship returned and we reconciled as friends. Thus, there were 4 of us, all 3 of them continuing their studies, while I fell behind. And it has stayed this way.

2017 came and went, 2018, 2019

In 2019 my family had to make a choice. Money was slowly being eaten up, as my mom was laid off from work, and she earned the bulk of our finances. By the end of the year, our stuff was packed up and we moved to the Philippines, their home which I have no ties to beyond my bloodline.

2020, 2021, 2022

Pandemic didn't matter, I was a NEET anyway. In late 2022, I tried to get a job. With my parents' help, I got a simple job that I actually quite enjoyed. Just packing shit into bags essentially. Yet I couldn't do it. The noise of people outside the work room, the temperature changes as the room didn't have aircon, but the outside did. The 1 hour car ride both to and fro, with my dad needing to drive me. I quit in a week.

2023

We are here. Well the year's almost over, yet here I am. Still a NEET, having not had a single relationship since the 2 that ended in failure. I finally learned about the concept of being transgender, and that it aligned greatly with what I've felt for this whole story in the background, just another small thing eating away at my sanity as all this time passed. An answer to so many questions I'd had since I was a stupid child.

But the worst part? There's no end in sight. I still can't trust people. I still don't have any friends besides the 3 who thankfully stayed with me, even though I can't even meet them as the plane ride drives me insane. I haven't left my house except for rare times of necessity, like getting vaccinated.

I don't know what to do. It's funny. It's been 7 years. I've spent so much time reflecting, and learning, and even understood that I'm trans. Yet that sentence, "I don't know what to do" has persisted. I know I said that back then. And it's still true now.

Thanks for reading, if anyone did. I wish you a good day, afternoon, evening, and life. Oh and just in case, don't worry about my life. I will not be doing that. I'm not capable of doing that.

[aderiex]

Aaron Hotchner x Reader (Jealousy)

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral, coarse language.

Summary: The team goes to DC for a case but Hotch can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. After an incident at a bar, he gets jealous and realizes he wants you. 

Everyone all sat on the plane to D.C. They were working a case of younger women abducted from clubs and bars. The Unsub was torturing and killing his victims. Washington PD said the abductions go back a few weeks, 8 bodies had just showed up, half buried in the ground. You sat next to Dr. Reid like you normally do; you two had become close when you had first joined the Bureau and you have become inseparable ever since. He was sitting with the file propped open in his lap and you were leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the crime scene photos. “So, we have 8 dead women in 3 weeks. The coroner said they had all been dead about a week when they found the bodies.” JJ explained, “So he was keeping them for a while.” Morgan concluded.  Emily sighed and looked over to you, it was hard for the women to do cases like this knowing the victimology, they were within the killer’s preference. Reid put a supportive hand on your back and offered you a warm smile, you smiled back and tuned in to what Hotch was saying. He was talking about what our next moves were when you landed. “JJ and Reid, I need you in the precinct, looking over all the evidence, get our team somewhere to set up. Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi will interview the families of the victims.” You watched his hesitated eyes looking around the plane when they finally met yours, his gaze softened a bit. “Me and y/n are going to go have a look at the crime scene.” He finished. Everyone agreed and the pilot’s voice came over the speakers, telling the team they were coming in for landing.

As soon as you were on the ground, you were being transported into SUV’s and on your separate paths to do the assigned jobs. It was just you and Hotch in the car, he was driving, and you rode shotgun, with a map splayed out on your lap with all the last known locations of the girls and then the dumpsite. Hotch tried to make some small talk, but it was mostly silent for the duration of the car ride. You pulled up to the dumpsite to see state police around, police tape up to keep civilians out. You put on your rubber gloves, and stepped out of the car, joining up on Hotch’s side as you both approached the scene. The state police chief came up to you and shook both of your hands, introducing himself. He explained basic knowledge of the crimes, which you had already read about, but still listened intently to his words. You and Hotch walked over and inspected the dead bodes. Him checking their pockets and looking at how they were placed, you still looking through the files, trying to identify each girl.

After a few hours spent at the crime scene, you and Hotch decided to rejoin the rest of the team back at the precinct. The drive back less quiet, mostly just filled with work discussion and quick phone calls to Reid and Garcia, but still something. Back at the precinct, Reid and JJ had all the crime scene photos laid out on the big conference table, along with all the evidence. You and Hotch joined them at the table, Reid joining up on your side. Looking down, at the file in your hands and matching it with the last known location of the girls. “They were all last seen at a bar or club…” Morgan mused, “Hey babygirl,” He said, getting on the phone with Garcia. “I need a list of all the bars and clubs that are in a 10-mile radius of the dump site.” Garcia chuckled, “Already on it big boy, I’m sending them over to you right now.” The list popped up, about 7 bars and clubs. “2 of them closed due to renovations and aren’t due to open for the next month.” Garcia added, “Ok so that makes 5. We should split up and hit the bars tonight. Morgan, you take the one uptown on 5th. Reid, I want you and Prentiss in the one on Main. Rossi and JJ will take the one on the far side of town. Me and y/n will take the one on 22nd.” Hotch gave everyone roles, “That leaves one, the one on 33rd.” JJ brought up, Hotch nodded and turned to the state police chief, “I want you and a partner there tonight.” Hotch said, in a serious tone. The man nodded and everyone went to get changed into more casual clothing, as to not seem too suspicious to the unsub. You all were told to tuck your guns behind your waistband, and you kept your badge and cuffs on a belt loop you kept hidden underneath your shirt.

You and Hotch headed for the bar, this was the one time he wasn’t dressed formally, he wore a simple grey button up and jeans, he looked good. You both sat in the car, driving in the dark, the quiet was comforting. Hotch looked over to you multiple times during the drive, just quick glances, not long enough for you to make eye contact with him. You pulled up to the bar, it looked busy, the parking lot was full and there was a steady stream of people going in and out. Hotch looked over to you and sent you a small nod as you both got out of the car and walked in together. It was even busier inside, people were packed in, standing almost shoulder to shoulder. You and Hotch headed immediately to the bar, you found two open spots and sat down, the bartender walked up to you guys. “Busy night?” Hotch asked, the bartender nodded, exasperatedly. “It’s like this almost every night. Popular spot.” He laughed out, “So you probably don’t remember many of the people that come through here?” you asked, the bartender thought about it for a second, “Not really, unless its one of my regulars or they are quite memorable.” He shrugged. You pulled a picture out of your pocket of the girls, “Do any of these girls look familiar?” You asked, the bartender inspected the photos, he shook his head, “Sorry, like I said we have a lot of people that come through here.” You nodded, “What about a man? He would have been quite reserved, sat near the back, didn’t talk to anyone, seemed to just watch?” Hotch cut in, the bartender paused, “Yeah I think I know who you’re talking about, he comes here sometimes, orders a beer and sits in the back. He leaves pretty discreetly.” The man said, “Is he here tonight?” You asked, the man looked around, “Not yet, he normally shows up later in the night.” You nodded and turned to Hotch, “Guess we play the waiting game.” He said.

You and Hotch sat at a table in the back, just talking. Hotch had ordered a beer, as to blend in, you were taking sips of a virgin drink the bartender had recommended. A man approached your table and sat next to you without warning, you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Hey pretty lady.” He slurred, intoxicated. You forced a smile and looked to Hotch, who was sending the man a death stare. “Are you single?” he asked, paying no attention to Hotch. He didn’t even let you answer, “Let’s get out of here babe. I’ll show you a great time.” He shot you a dirty smile. You were getting visibly uncomfortable, “Get off of her.” Hotch spoke up, you both looked over to him and he was getting serious. “Hey man calm down, I’m just picking up your leftovers.” He snickered, Hotch was up in a second, grabbing the intoxicated man by his collar and pulling him out of the booth. “I wasn’t asking.” He practically spat at the man. The fear in the man’s eyes was prominent as Hotch let him go and he drunkenly stumbled away from our table. “Thank you.” You spoke up, giving Hotch a warm smile. Hotch returned the smile which made your face heat up and you averted your eyes.

The night was long but by the time the bar had closed, there was no sign of this man. You and Hotch packed up and left the bar, getting into his SUV and heading for the hotel. The drive home felt different, the silence wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. You couldn’t help but steal glances over to him. You pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and Hotch helped you out of the car, “About what happened back there...” He trailed off, you smiled “Hey, don’t worry about it. I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me.” You smiled, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. You felt the heat rush to his face under your hand. You stayed there for a moment, staring into his eyes, watching them try to read you. His brow furrowed, his eyes scanning your face. You pulled away, breaking the trance “We should probably go… go to bed.” You laughed nervously, he said nothing but a brief nod and you both headed into the hotel. Checking into your respective rooms.

It was the next day, you and Hotch were both extremely tired and showed up to the precinct late because of the late closing time of the bar. Everyone watched you two walk in, JJ raised her eyebrows suggestively and you blushed slightly but shook your head, “It’s not what it looks like, the bar was open until 1am.” You said, yawning.

The day was very long, but you eventually caught up with the killer, he had made a mistake in covering his tracks and you had been able to find his tab at the bar. Garcia had tracked his card and given you all an address. The whole team pulled up to the man’s house, you hopped out of the SUV gun in hand, approaching the house with the rest of the team. Morgan kicked down the door and everyone surged into the house.

The next events went by in almost slow motion, you turned a corner, the first thing you heard was the shot. You didn’t know where it had come from until you felt a breathtaking force on your vest, knocking you back into the wall, Morgan was right behind you, putting a bullet through the man’s shoulder. You stumbled back and slid down the wall, clawing at your vest, trying to get it off. Hotch ran in and dropped to his knees in front of you, “Y/n! Y/n can you hear me?” He cried out, your ears were ringing but you nodded, and reached out to grab his hand. He practically tore your vest off, looking for any signs of bleeding, but the vest had done its job. He helped you up, his arm around your waist as you caught your breath before guiding you out of the house. Morgan was shoving the unsub into the cop car, as Hotch helped you to the SUV. “I’ll take y/n back to the hotel for some rest. I need you guys to go back and pack up things at the precinct.” Hotch said, everyone nodded.

You were breathing shallowly in the passenger seat as Hotch drove you both back to the hotel. He wouldn’t even let you walk in by yourself, instead he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you through the hotel to your room. He walked you over to your bed and gently laid you down, sitting down on the bed beside you. You drifted peacefully, grabbing out for his hand as you slept.

When you woke up Hotch was still there, holding your hand. He had laid down and was sleeping peacefully. You checked the clock; it was around 3 in the morning. You shifted slightly and you heard his wake up, stretching his arms above his head. “Y/n how are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up. You smiled “I’m feeling better, good as new.” He stood up and you stood with him. As you came to your feet, he was a lot closer than you had expected. You were centimeters apart. You felt his breath on your face, making you shiver. His eyes were scanning you again, looking for some kind of clue as to what you were thinking. “I was worried about you…” He said quietly. You smiled and reached up for his face again, he grabbed your hand and spun you around, walking you back into the wall. Your back was against the wall, he was pressing his body against you, keeping you still. Fear flashed through his eyes as he started to step away. “I-I’m so sorry-” you cut him off, pulling him back in by the collar and pressing your lips to his. He kissed back immediately. His lips were so soft, felt so right on yours. His hands immediately found your hips, pulling you even closer as your hands played with the hair on the back of his neck. He pulled away, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He admitted, “That guy at the bar…” he paused, you kissed him again to shut him up. “I know” You mumbled against his lips. His kisses got hungrier, his hands going over your body, as if he were memorizing all the curves of your hips. He squeezed at your waist, making you moan quietly. That drove him crazy, his grip immediately tightened, kissing you harder. You reached your hand down and rubbed him through his pants, causing him to groan against your lips. You smirked and felt him almost come undone in front of you. Your shirt was the first to go, he took your breast in his hand making you throw your head back in pleasure, giving him access to kiss at your neck. Biting and sucking at your neck leaving bright red and purple marks, you moaned lightly, your hands tangling in his hair. One hand going to your waistband, the other coming up to grab your throat. He scanned your eyes, making sure it was okay. You gave him a confirming look, he squeezed your throat and whispered in your ear. “That was dangerous y/n.” He said before pushing his fingers past your waistband, making you gasp. “Going in there alone like that?” he was still whispering in your ear as his finger circled your clit, making your grab his biceps. Moaning quietly, “You could have gotten hurt.” He growled, continuing with his fingers. You whimpered, not able to form any eligible words.

You were getting closer to your release, Hotch knew it too and pulled away. Leaving a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling his own shirt over his head. He was toned, strong, you couldn’t help but stare. Seeing him in this vulnerable state, this way, you forever wanted this image of him in your mind. He smiled at you and pulled you back in, “You should have stayed with me.” He said, his voice deep in your ear, making you shiver. His hand going right back into your pants, circling your entrance before pushing a finger inside of you. Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth as if to let out a moan. “Ah ah. Quiet now.” He growled, you whimpered quietly but nodded. He went back to his fingers, slowly pushing one in and out, watching your face twist with pleasure. Soon you felt him add another one, he curled them inside of you and you felt the tip of his finger graze your pleasure point. You moaned out, he smiled, knowing he had found it and kept going, hitting it with every pump. You dropped your head to rest on his shoulder and bit down on your lip to try and stay quiet. “So wet for me already?” He groaned out, you nodded as best you could while trying to hold in the moans of pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and grabbed you up by your thighs, carrying you over to the bed, placing you down lightly and starting to unbutton your pants. He pulled them off your legs with ease, leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear, his pants were next. He crawled on top of you in his boxers, you felt his bulge through his boxers rub against you, causing you to moan lightly in his ear. “Fuck Aaron.”

He started kissing down your stomach, all the way down to your thighs, you felt his breath on your inner thighs, causing you to arch you back. He circled your clit through your underwear, making you shudder. He pushed your underwear to the side and licked a flat line up your entrance. You couldn’t keep the moan in that time, it wasn’t that loud, but he heard it. Making him lick you again. You grabbed his hair as he went down on you, you threw your head back as your body was overwhelmed with pleasure. While he was still licking you, he stuck a finger in again. You tightened your grip on his hair and he kept going harder. You couldn’t keep the moans in anymore, grinding down on his fingers, chasing your release. “Not yet y/n.” He whispered. Pulling away. Before he could do anything else you flipped him over, so he was on his back. You trailed down his body, teasing your fingers around his waistband before pulling down his boxers. His member coming up and hitting against his stomach. He groaned at the sudden stimulation, you look his entire length in your mouth making him gasp and throw his head back on the pillow. You bobbed your head and swirled your tongue around him, making him groan and grab your hair. You could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat as you went, amazing moans escaping his lips.

Before he finished, he pulled your hair, letting his member fall out of your mouth. “On your back.” He growled, you obliged and laid down on the bed, you watched him slip your underwear off your legs and throw it behind him as you unhooked your bra and tossed it onto the floor. He leaned down, kissing you and his hands pleasuring you again before you felt his tip slowly push into you. Your nails dug into his skin as you winced. He stopped and looked down at you, you nodded and reached down to push his member farther into you. He groaned and hung his head in pleasure as he bottomed out in you, you moaned as his member hit your pleasure spot. He moved slowly, small thrusts until he was able to slide in and out easily. He held your leg up above his shoulder and continued to thrust. You felt the friction and pain dissipate as it was replaced with pleasure. His groans in your ear, turning you on even more. Your moans were heard all around the room. He leaned it, still going, “You feel so good.” He groaned, you whimpered and ran your nails up and down his back, leaving bright red scratch marks. He moaned at the feeling of this and went harder. He put one hand around your throat and used the other to pin your hands above your head. He was hitting your pleasure spot with every thrust, making you almost scream. You were getting close and Hotch was too, “I-I’m going to-” you didn’t even finish before you released on him, moaning loudly. He was groaning with the feeling of it before pulling out and finishing over your stomach, gasping as he rode out his release.

Later that day, you and Hotch sat on the plane back to Quantico, Reid and Emily were playing chess together. No one knows why she still tries, Reid has yet to lose since Gideon. JJ was finishing her report and Rossi was laying asleep. Hotch sat across form you, his professional face back on, looking over to you and shooting you a smile every once in a while. The flight back is always shorter than the flight out, Reid explained why is physically was, but it felt faster mentally too. As soon as the team landed, there were SUVs outside waiting to take you back to the bullpen. You, Hotch and Reid all sat in one SUV, Reid was forced into the back. The drive was silent other than Reid spouting random facts, you found yourself staring at Hotch while he drove for long periods of time before he would meet your gaze and break you out of the trance.

Everyone was sitting at their respective desks, filling out all the reports quietly. Hotch stepped out of his office, “Y/n. My office.” He said, a shiver went down your spine and you stood. Everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked up the steps and into Hotch’s office. As soon as you got into the office, you closed the door behind you, he closed the blinds and turns towards you “Lock it.” He said, your heart rate picked up and you nodded before turning around and locking the door behind you. You turned around and Hotch was immediately in front of you, grabbing your waist and pinning you against the door. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He growled in your ear; your knees quivered. He didn’t waste time kissing you, pulling you closer to his body. Holding you up. You immediately reached down to rub him through his pants, but he stopped you “We’re going to have to be quiet.” He murmured. You nodded and he let our wrist go, letting you slip your hand into his pants and slowly stroke him, making him throw his head back and breathe heavily. “Desk, now.” He demanded, you giggled and sat on the edge of his desk. He walked over to you, taking off his blazer and undoing his tie. He came right up and stood between your legs, craning his head down to kiss you, stroking your hair and one hand on your thigh. He pushed you back lightly, letting you come to rest on your elbows, he unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down enough to pull his hard member out. You bit your lip as he slid into you, his face showing pure pleasure as you contracted and moved around his member. He started slow, until the pain was gone again, the thrusts become easier, and he started going harder. You threw your head back, biting your lip hard as you avoid moaning. “Shhh, good girl.” Hotch praised you, that caused a slight whimper, but it wasn’t too loud. He gave you a warning glance and you nodded desperately. He grabbed his tie and shoved the fabric in your mouth. “Quiet babygirl.” He cooed. You bit down on the tie and let it muffle your moans.

He was getting close; you were coming up on your release as well. You sat up and grabbed his collar, “Cum in me.” You whimpered in his ear. He gave you a confirming look and you nodded. He nodded and as you released on his member, he let himself finish inside of you. You felt his hot release fill you up and you threw your head back. “F-Fuck.” You moaned out. He held you there as you both rode out your orgasm. As he stood back up, putting his clothes back on, kissing your forehead. You felt his warm release running down your leg as you stood, your legs shaking. He gave you his spare shirt to clean up with, “Clean yourself up love.” He said softly. You smiled and he pulled you in for a handful of light kisses. On your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead.

You walked out of the office, slightly stumbling down the stairs and sitting back down, across from Spencer. “What did he want?” He asked you. “Just a second opinion.” You answered, going back to your work as if nothing had happened. Spencer didn’t question it. But Morgan saw the messed-up hair and swollen lips. But he didn’t say any    thing.

Word count: 4k

[sweetyyhippyy]

Part of You. Spencer Reid x OC! Character. Chapter 5.

Chapter 5: Rough.

(Not my gif).

Summary: After an out of state case runs long, Spencer decides to take Bridgett somewhere special. Smut ensues on the car ride there and for the rest of the night.

Pairing: Season 6 Spencer x OC! Plus size character Bridgett Mendez.

TW: This chapter is pure filth. Heavy making out, road head, Dom!Spencer, oral sex (female receiving and male receiving), face slapping, handcuffing, naughty names, spanking, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, some fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5.5k

A.N.: Hi! This is middle of season 6 Spencer 😊 please reblog/leave feedback! I’m super proud of this chapter, so please don’t let it flop! DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE NOT 18+!

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“Are you ready to get out of here?” Spencer asks, walking into the conference room.

“I just need to finish putting this stuff away and then I’ll be ready. I need a boiling hot bath.”

“What do you say we have a weekend to ourselves? Just us.” Spencer whispers coming up behind her, kissing her shoulder and hugging her against his chest.

Bridgett giggles, dropping her head back onto his chest.

“We’re going to get caught. Since when are you okay with PDA?” Her eyes flutter closed, content with feeling the warmth of her boyfriend wrapped around her.

He kisses her forehead, “How about we head up by Cumberland, there’s a nice cabin. We can leave in a few hours. Either stay in. Or explore. Or stay in and I can explore you, and you me.” He whispers, kissing her neck with every new idea he had.

Bridgett laughs, turning herself around and softly kissing his lips. The whole team had been in California with 2 cases back to back.  They hadn’t been back home in Quantico in almost 3 weeks. Thankfully, Hotch gave them a case free weekend once they got back to relax from the long few weeks it’s been.

“Let me guess, you already booked a place?”

“On the plane ride home when you were passed out next to me. We can leave now, pack a bag, even though I don’t think we’re going to be wearing much clothes with all the things I have planned for us.”

Bridgett raises her eyebrows, “Someone’s overly horny. Is 3 weeks too long without being able to touch me?”

Spencer looks around, the office dead quiet, and pushes Bridgett against the conference room table, making her sit on top of the tabletop. He forces her legs around his torso, grabbing her face and pressing a long, sensual kiss against her lips. Bridgett moans against him, and presses her body against his. Spencer’s long fingers gravitate to Bridgett’s blouse, undoing the buttons. Bridgett pulls back from the kiss, Spencer instantly dropping his head and kissing her neck.

“Are we really doing this? We work on this table, Spence.” She half laughs, feeling his teeth rake against her skin.

“Yeah, and right now I’m about to work you into this table.”

Bridgett can’t help but snort, trying to keep her laughter in. Spencer chuckles, making eye contact with her.

“That sounded a lot sexier in my head and a lot less dumb.”

Bridgett laughs, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling him closer by his tie. “Go ahead and work me into the table, pretty boy.”

Spencer finishes unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her shoulders, his fingers delicately touching the lace cupping her breasts, her body shivering and goosebumps covering her body. Bridgett unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants massaging the bulge through his pants. Spencer nips at her ear, making her moan and giggle.

“What the hell is going on?”

Both of them jump, Spencer turning around quickly, his mouth agape. Derek is standing in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought… we thought-“

“Yeah i know what you two thought. Really? We all sit there.”

Bridgett grabs her shirt, fumbling with the buttons until she’s finally covered. Her heart was racing, getting caught was actually kinda sexy.

“How long have you two been doing this?” The room was silent.

“Well a few minutes…” Spencer says, finally breaking the silence.

Bridgett sighs, leaning her head against his shoulder. Clearly all the blood that was in his brain was rushing in between his legs.

“Not that. I mean sleeping together.”

“We’re not just sleeping together. We’ve been in a relationship for 6 months. Almost 7.” Bridgett interjects, still shielding herself from Derek.

“And when were you planning on telling us?”

“We didn’t want it getting around and getting back to HR. We didn’t mean to intentionally keep it from the rest of the team.”

Derek smiles, “I guess this is what I get for forgetting my wallet. And, just FYI we all had our suspicions. See you on Monday.”

Bridgett laughs into Spencer’s neck, noticing the case file hiding his crotch.

“I told you we were going to get caught.” Spencer jokes.

“We’re not stopping to get clothes. Just grab your go bag and meet me in the car, doctor.” Bridgett whispers, ghosting a kiss on his lips before walking out of the room.

***

It was less than a 2 hour car ride. Spencer actually volunteered to drive the whole way there, which meant Bridgett could get the ball rolling on her plan to continue what Spencer got started at work.

Bridgett rests her hand on Spencer’s upper thigh, slowly running her fingertips up at down his thigh, nearing closer and closer to the tent still in his pants.

“What are you doing?” Spencer questions.

“I’m just touching your leg… what are you doing?”

“I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” He warns, making Bridgett smirk to herself.

“I’m not doing anything. I’m just touching your leg like you touch mine all the time, baby.”

“I know how I touch your leg, and I know you’re just trying to cause trouble.”

Bridgett hums along to the music softly playing on the radio, turning her head out of her window, watching the scenery. Her hand continues to crawl up his lap again, slowly feathering her fingers against the zipper of his pants.

Spencer shakes his head, his hands shifting on the steering wheel. “You’re going to be in a world of hurt, Bridgett.”

“Am I? You know I like getting in trouble.” She unzips his pants, fishing around his boxers and pulling his cock out. Bridgett unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning over the center console and licks a long stripe up his member.

Spencer sucks in air through his teeth, a low groan slipping through his lips. Bridgett smiles, kissing and licking around the head of his cock, teasing him as her tongue drags agonizingly slow around.

“God damn Bridge.” He breathes out, his fist gripping her hair out of her way as her mouth envelops his cock. She slowly takes him all in, breathing in deeply to avoid choking on him. Once her mouth hits his base, she holds it there for a few seconds before quickly pulling him out, a long string of saliva hanging out of her mouth.

“Did you like that baby? Should I keep going?”

Spencer’s eyes go between the road and his girlfriend, her lips swollen and still slightly parted, eyes glazed over.

“You better keep going until I tell you to stop. And just FYI, my love, you’re definitely going to be in trouble once we get to the cabin.”

“I was hoping I would be.” Bridgett smiles, kissing his cheek before tying her hair up in her hair tie. She spits onto his member, massaging it in.

“Use your mouth.” Spencer says through his teeth.

Bridgett looks up at him, smirking. “Focus on the road. Not me, baby.” She leans back down, kitten licking his tip  again.

“Smart ass. You’re being a brat because you know I can’t do anything to you right now.”

She giggles as she takes him back down her throat, massaging the rest of his cock that she doesn’t have her mouth on.

Spencer drops his head for a few seconds to watch Bridgett bobbing her head up and down on him, he can feel her hollow her cheeks out, making the room in her mouth tighter. He whimpers, putting his attention back on the road, watching her any longer and he would have came down her throat in less than 5 seconds.

“Mmm, look at my good girl. Taking such good care of me. Sucking me off so fucking well.”

Bridgett releases him, needing to come up for air. She wipes the sides of her mouth clean, licking alongside a vein on the underside of his cock. Spencer groans loudly, his eyes rolling back in his head. She flattens her tongue out, gripping the bottom of his cock and lightly tapping it against it.

“You’re going to make me cum in your pretty mouth.”

“I want it. I wanna taste it, daddy.”

Spencer looks at her lovingly, squeezing her chin. Bridgett kisses Spencer’s palm before going back down on him. Her head and mouth working quickly. Spencer’s breath hitches in his throat, feeling Bridgett gagging on his member again. He slowly starts to fuck her throat, bucking his hips slightly. Whining moans along with curse words string out of his mouth as he feels his climax come nearer. He quickly flicks the turn signal on, pulling over to the side of the highway. He thrusts a few more times into her mouth before spilling into the back of her throat.  Bridgett moans swallowing the warm thick liquid. She releases him, Spencer relaxing his body against the seat. Bridgett sits back up, grinning at Spencer proudly. Spencer grabs her face and smashes a kiss against her lips. She smiles into the kiss, trying to bring him closer to her. He pulls back from the kiss, shaking his head.

“Hold on, pretty girl. We’re almost there and then I get to have my way with you. Since you already had your way with me.”

Bridgett whines, throwing herself against the seat. “But we’re already pulled over. I want you to touch me and make me cum.”

He laughs, Turning the key again and starting the car merging back to the traffic, ignoring her plea. “Patience isn’t your strongest trait. You’ll get what you’ve been waiting for when we get in the room.”

***

Spencer hands Bridgett the key to the cabin, grabbing their bags from the back of her car. Bridgett walks ahead to the wooden lodge, opening the door. The inside of the cabin was beautiful, dark brown logs along the wall and on the ceiling, red accents on the curtains and pillows on the couch, a huge fireplace on the main wall. Spencer walks past her, dropping their bags on the floor.

“It’s so cozy in here.” You have great taste in relaxation spots.” She says, moving closer to Spencer.

He grabs her wrists, putting them behind her back. Bridgett gasps, her body instantly getting hot in arousal. She feels his breath against her neck, his free hand pulling at her hair tie, unraveling her hair.

“Walk.” He whispers, nipping at her neck roughly. Bridgett yelps, her body tightening in his grasp. Spencer lets her go, gently pushing her in the direction of the bedroom, spanking her as she walks away. She walks slowly through the dimly lit hallway, trying not to trip.

“Strip.”

Bridgett jumps, not realizing Spencer was so close behind her. She quickly unbuttons her blouse and slips it off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. She unhooks her bra, throwing it behind her toward Spencer. She feels a sharp slap against her still clothed butt. Bridgett laughs, turning and wrapping her arms around Spencer’s neck, kissing him. Spencer moans, his hands resting on her bare hips, his cold fingers making her shiver. He pushes Bridgett against the wall, unbuttoning her pants and dropping down to one knee to pull her shoes off first and then her pants. He intentionally leaves her underwear on, his large hands starting at her calves and slowly moving them up her thighs, barely seeing her eyes glued to him in the small bit of light coming from the main room.

“Look how beautiful my girl is.” He whispers. Spencer kisses up her thighs, humming with each kiss he plants on her. “I love you so much, Bridgett.” He always told her how much he loved her right before sex because during sex he said and did stuff that was out of character for him; he didn’t mean; calling her a bad girl, a dirty little girl, a slut or whore depending on Bridgett’s mood.

“I love you too Spence.” She whispers, touching his hair.

Spencer’s fingers pull down the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down agonizing slow.

“I plan on fucking you on every possible surface of this cabin this weekend.” He says, his mouth extremely close to her throbbing pussy. Bridgett hums in response, waiting for him to dive in. She feels his fingers massage the lips to her opening, feeling the slickness that had dripped out of her.

“I can never get over how wet you get before I even touch you. It amazes me every single time that I have that effect on you.”

He was torturing her, making her wait and pine for his tongue or his fingers. She got restless against the wall, whining in desperation.

“Ah, ah, use your words, little girl. Why are you upset?” He asks in an almost condescending tone, instantly annoying her.

“Because I want you to touch me.” She mutters, furrowing her eyebrows. Spencer stands back up, putting his hands on the wall behind her, and dropping his head to her ear.  

“How do you get what you want?”

“By being a good girl.” She responds shivering against him.

“And were you being a good girl in the car?”

“Yes.”

Spencer slaps her in the face, grabbing her by the neck. Bridgett shakily laughs, she loved talking back to him or giving him smart ass answers because it got him riled up.

“You think a good girl sucks me off while I’m trying to drive? Do you think that makes you a good girl?” His fingers give her neck a light squeeze.

“Yes I do, daddy.”

He smacks her cheek again, pushing his knee between her thighs, his knee resting right in between her folds.

“You know what it makes you for swallowing my cum in the car, don’t you? What’s the right answer?”

Bridgett presses a small kiss to his throat before answering, “A bad little slut.” She starts to circle her hips, creating friction she desperately needed, she moans at the tingling feeling from her clit.

Bridgett takes Spencer’s hands and puts them onto both her boobs, holding them against her. Spencer got lost between massaging Bridgett’s boobs, making her nipples hard in the process and feeling how wet and warm her pussy left against his pant leg. Even though he tried to play the dominant role, Bridgett had Spencer wrapped around her finger, he became a little weak at hearing her moan. It was like music to his ears hearing her moan and whimper his name telling him how good he was making her feel even though she was doing all the work. It turned him on to see how she was getting herself off on him, but he wasn’t going to let her cum just yet. After a few more hip swivels he removes his knee and his hands, earning a whimper from Bridgett.

“Fuck you.” She whines. Spencer grabs both of her wrists again, pulling her close to him, making them chest to chest.

“What's the matter with the pretty girl? You didn’t get to cum on daddy’s leg?”

Bridgett shakes her head, “No. You’re being mean.” She pouts her lip out, taking full advantage of being a brat since he wasn’t giving into her anyway.

“Go to the bedroom and get on the bed.” He says, releasing her wrists. Bridgett crosses her arms over her bare chest.

“No.” She plainly says. She knew she was in for it, but she wanted to be in trouble because she knew once they were done she got all the affection she wanted from Spencer, and that was her favorite aftercare.

“Did you just tell me no?”

Bridgett stays quiet, waiting to see what Spencer was going to do. She hears a familiar clinking of metal before Spencer takes her wrist and places her hand in the metal of the handcuffs he brought with him and tightens it in place, repeating the same to her other wrist, her hands confined to the front of her body.

“You don’t want to listen to me? Then I get to make you listen to me. Walk.” Spencer takes her by her arm and leads her to the bedroom, throwing her onto the bed, face down against the soft blanket. She can hear Spencer moving behind her, she turns her head to see him ridding himself of his clothes, always the last of the two of them naked when things started getting hot and heavy. Once he was fully naked he stood behind her, admiring her ass, he rubs both sides of her, before harshly slapping one of them. Bridgett yells out a moan, burying her face into the bed. Spencer grabs a fist full of her hair, “Turn your head and look at me.” He says sternly, releasing her hair. She turns her head to the side, watching as he stared into her eyes as he spanked her again, this time a lot harder.

“Spence.” She whines. He shushes her, giving her another slap.  

“Do you like that?” He asks in a low voice. Bridgett moans again, wiggling her ass against him. He gives her 4 more slaps back to back, the spot tingling in the best way possible. Spencer leans back and admires the redness on the skin, touching it lightly with his fingers. Spencer wraps his arms around her waist, flipping her over onto her back, placing his hands on either side of her and biting at the skin on her chest.

“Are you ready to admit you were being a bad girl in the car? That way you get what you want?”

“When have you ever known me to admit when I’m wrong?” She laughs, wrapping her legs around his waist and rubs her middle against him, feeling his hard cock.

Spencer wraps his hands around her throat again, loving the way her eyes rolled in the back of her head at the feeling.

“Do you want me to beg, daddy? You want me to beg for you to finally touch me?”

He raises his eyebrow, liking what Bridgett was getting at. “Let me hear what you have.”

Bridgett’s eyes grow soft looking up at him, “Baby, please touch me, or fuck me, I’ve missed you touching me the past few weeks and I need it. Please touch your bad little girl, I promise I’ll be good the rest of the weekend.”

Spencer smirks at her, taking her handcuffed hands and pinning them above her head, holding them down against the bed. He lays on his side next to her torso, dragging his fingertips down her stomach, drawing out goosebumps. His fingers finally feather over her wetness, spreading her lips before settling in between them and rubbing her clit. Bridgett sighs in relief, her back arching up off the bed. Spencer’s fingers rub lazy slow circles around the bud, watching how Bridgett’s body reacts to his touch.

Her eyes stare into his, “Kiss me please?” Spencer obliges, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He slowly drags his fingers down to her entrance and pushes two fingers in. Bridgett moans into his mouth, melting against him.

Spencer pulls back from the kiss, moving down her body kissing her the whole way down before settling in between her mound and diving straight in. Bridgett whines pathetically, her bound hands flying down to his hair, the only thing in her grasp.

“Fu-fuck Spence. Baby I love you.” She can feel the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes, the only man to ever make her basically cry building up to orgasm.

Spencer tongue works against her bud quickly, making suckling movements to it. His fingers working feverishly fast in and out of her, the sounds filling the room borderline obscene of the wetness between her legs coaxing out of her. She could feel the pressure building, her walls becoming more slippery.

“You’re going to make me cum. I’m going to squirt I can feel it.”

Spencer went back and forth in his mind on whether or not he wanted to let her cum or make her suffer and deny her of her orgasm for the second time that night. Once he saw her eyes flutter closed and her upper body arch off the bed, he withdrew his fingers and his mouth. Bridgett deflated back onto the bed, cussing at Spencer.

“I fucking hate you when you do that.” She whines, giving him a deadly glare.

“You don’t hate me. You wanna know how I know you don’t?” He asks, grabbing both of her legs and putting them on his shoulders, not giving her any preparation he glides into her soaking wet entrance, instantly rutting into her tightness. Bridgett cries out, her head rolling to the side.

“You don’t hate me do you, baby?” He coos in her ear. “You love me? You love daddy?”

“Yes. Yes I love you. I love you so much, daddy.” She says breathlessly, staring into her boyfriend’s eyes. He loved seeing her eyes fighting to stay open, how her cheeks had a slight blush to them from being overly hot. He was beyond in love with her. He dropped his head down in between her breasts, coming close to his climax already.

“Flip me over.”

Spencer picks his head up, grabbing her hips and flipping her onto her front, helping her onto her knees and helping her settle into place. Bridgett still had red patches on her ass from the spankings before, and Spencer knew she was going to be marked for a few days at least. Bridgett pushes herself back against his cock, wiggling her ass against him. He puts his fingers back inside her wetness and rubs his wet fingers along the tip of his cock before sliding back in. Bridgett loved when Spencer took her from the back, he got so much deeper and so much more desperate with his thrusts.

“I love how you stretch me out, daddy. It feels so good.” Bridgett whimpers. She realizes her hands are loose enough to bring one up to her clit and massage it while Spencer rocked against her. Her body melts against the mattress  at the new sensation, her torso laid out flat with only her ass in the air. Spencer was mesmerized at the sight of his cock thrusting in and out of  and how wet it was, and at the sight of Bridgett playing with herself.

“Daddy, I’m going to cum. Can I please cum on your cock? I’m so close.”

Spencer grips her hair and pulls it back, making her cry out. “My dirty little girl wants to cum? Are you my good girl?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes I’m a good girl. I’m your good girl. Pl- fuck- please can I cum?”

With his hands still wrapped around her long hair he pulls it, bringing her torso up off the bed, making her back lean against his chest. At this point Bridgett was on the verge of losing it,  her legs were shaking, she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Spencer moves her hands away from her clit, replacing it with his quickly. He rests his chin on her shoulder, his other arm wrapped around her waist trying to keep her from collapsing against the bed.

“Cum on my fingers, my love. Go ahead, daddy has you.” He circles her clit just a few more times before she releases, feeling liquid spurt onto his cock with each thrust. Bridgett screams, her head falling back against his shoulder, whimpering against him. Her mouth hangs open, her beautiful brown eyes barely open to lovingly look at Spencer.

“That’s my girl. You got another one in you?” He whispers, kissing her neck.

Bridgett barely whines in response, not having enough energy to make words or noise.

“I think you do. Let’s see.” Spencer repeats his actions this time much faster. Bridgett almost jumps out of his arms feeling how sensitive her bud was, Spencer having to bring her back against him.

“Too.. much…” Bridgett cries, more tears escaping the corner of her eye. Her eyes fixate on his, her brown eyes were glossed over and heavy.

“Just give daddy one more, baby and then you can be all done. One more beautiful, I can feel it building up inside you.”

Spencer’s thrusts dig deeper inside her to get her to finish, knowing that it was making his end come closer. His lips kiss all over the side of her neck, softly nibbling the skin. He can feel the explosion happen once more, more warm liquid gushing out of her. Bridgett’s nails dig into his thigh, scratching down his limb. A string of breathy “I love yous”, and cuss words leaving her mouth as she came down from her orgasm. Bridgett’s chest was rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. Spencer shushes her and strokes her hair, giving her a break.

Bridgett’s eyes roll back in her head, she shakes her head at him, “I can- can’t anymore. I can’t cum again. No more, daddy, please?” She whimpers in his ear. Spencer nods his head, giving her a kiss on the lips.

“I know baby. You did such a good job squirting twice for me. You look so pretty while you cum.” Spencer pulls out, helping her lower herself down onto the bed slowly, her body going limp once it hits the mattress.  

Spencer lays her onto her side, laying beside her in the same position, spooning her,  and lifting her leg up and letting it rest on his hip. “Daddy’s almost done, pretty girl. Can you take me for a little bit longer until I cum inside you?”

Bridgett moans in response. Spencer slowly slides into her, almost losing it then and there, feeling how warm and wet her walls were against him, he could still feel them contracting from her previous orgasms. He bucks his hips up, thrusting up quickly, his hands squeezing her hip to keep Bridgett in place. Spencer groans, feeling his body shake, his breathing becoming hollow. He bites onto Bridgett’s shoulder as he releases into her. They both moan explicitly as Spencer fills her up, a little of the hot liquid spilling out onto Bridgett’s inner thigh. Both of them lay in bed for a few minutes quiet, their bodies spent from the playtime they just had. Spencer kisses Bridgett’s shoulder to the middle of her back before pulling out. Bridgett whines at the emptiness inside her, Spencer giving her two kisses on her forehead. She flips onto her back and watches Spencer grab his boxers and leave the room quickly. He comes back a few seconds later with a key in his hand and a bottle of water in the other.

“Lemme see your hands, Bridgy.”

She sits up onto her sore butt, offering her hands up to him, Spencer puts the key in and releases them from their metal confines. She rolls both her hands in circles and drops them onto her lap.  Spencer kisses her forehead again and hands her the open water bottle, rubbing her legs as he watches her drink a few sips.

“Do you want some?” She asks, handing him the bottle. Spencer takes the cold water from her and takes a few gulps before putting it on the nightstand.

“I love you, pretty girl.” Spencer says softly, looking into her sleepy eyes lovingly.

“I love you too, baby boy.” She responds, taking his face into her hands and rubbing his jawline with her thumb. Spencer turns his face slightly, kissing Bridgett’s wrist.  

“Let’s go take a bath.” He suggests, getting off the bed. Bridgett struggles to get off the bed, her whole lower half feeling like jelly. Spencer holds her hand all the way to the bathroom, sitting her on the closed toilet until the water warmed up. The tub was huge, little water jets surrounding the inside of the porcelain. Once Spencer was satisfied with the temperature he grabs a bottle of bubble bath solution and dumps a large amount of the bottle in. The tub quickly fills up with bubbles, Spencer quickly shutting the water off and slowly getting in.

“Come here, baby.” He reaches his hand out and helps her in the tub. She slowly sits in front of him, relaxing against his chest. Spencer smiles, stroking her hair and holding her against him. Her eyes shut in relaxation, humming. If she could, she would fall asleep right in the tub, she had everything she needed right behind her.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He whispers, kissing her cheek. Bridgett smiles up at him, holding his hand under the warm water.

“Yes but I wouldn’t mind hearing how much you love me.”

“I didn’t think I would ever fall in love with anyone, but I fall in love with you more everyday.”

Bridgett’s bottom lip pouts out, awwing at him. She turns her body around, wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his.

“I love you so much Spencer. I’ve never been so happy before. And nobody has ever treated me so well. You make me feel… warm and fuzzy all the time.” Bridgett laughs, not being able to think of the actual words she was trying to say.

Spencer laughs with her, kissing the tip of her nose.

“You give me the warm fuzzies too, my love. Let’s finish up our bath and then I have a surprise for you.”

As Spencer leans over Bridgett to get a washcloth, Bridgett takes a handful of soap and wipes it on his cheek. Bridgett snorts, going back in with more and wiping it across his chin, a little getting onto his lips. Spencer cocks an eyebrow at her, settling back behind her. Once she turns her face to look back at him, she cracks up seeing just how much of the suds ended up on his lips.

“You think it’s funny, huh? Come here, let me kiss you.”

Bridgett moves her body to the other side of the tub, covering her face with her hands. Squealing and laughing as Spencer tries to pry her hands off her face. He playfully bites at her wrist, making her move her hands, Spencer successfully planting a soapy kiss to her chin. The soapy mess went on for another 5 minutes, soap ending up everywhere on the floor outside of the tub. Spencer surrendered, waving the washcloth in his hand. Finally getting both of them clean and soap free. He steps out of the tub first, almost slipping right away. Spencer lays out bath towels to soak up the mess all over the floor, guiding Bridgett out of the tub and out of the bathroom before slipping his boxers and pajama pants on, leaving his top half bare.

Bridgett dries off quickly before crawling into the bed, still fully naked, and snuggling under the sheets. She waits for Spencer to come back from the kitchen, her eyes slowly drooping down, heavy from being exhausted. She doesn’t know how long she dozed off for before she feels Spencer shaking her shoulder softly. Bridgett rubs her eyes, sitting up.

“Sorry babe, I would have let you sleep but I’ve been dying to give this to you for weeks and I can’t wait anymore.” Spencer hands her a long skinny purple box, no logo or anything on it. She smiles at him before opening the box, a silver chain necklace with a matching silver crescent moon pendant at the end.

“Spence! You got this for me?” She asks, tears welling up in her eyes.

Spencer nods his head, his cheeks growing slightly red. He takes the necklace out of the box and opens the clasp.

“I got it for you before we left for California and I was going to give it to you on the night of the waning crescent moon because the night that I told you that I finally loved you… the moon was in the waning crescent phase… and I know you love looking up at the moon a lot so.” He smiles shyly, playing with the pendant.

Bridgett was in full blown tears after his explanation, she wraps her arms around Spencer’s bare torso and hugs him tightly. He wraps his arms around her, rocking her back and forth slightly.

“Why are you so amazing?” She asks, kissing his lower chin.

Bridgett sits up, moving her hair out of the way so Spencer can put the necklace on her. She takes the pendant between her fingers and looks down at it, smiling.

“I love you, so much Spencer. And I love the necklace. Thank you.” She says, kissing his lips.

“You’re welcome, baby. Do you want to go back to sleep? Your eyes still look tired.”

Bridgett nods, waiting for Spencer to lay down under the sheets and get settled before she snuggles up right next to him, laying her head on his bare chest. They lay together in silence, Spencer’s fingers massaging Bridgett’s scalp. This was when she was at her calmest, and most relaxed when she was in the arms of the man she loved, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional kiss pressed against her forehead.

[slut-for-mothman]

Hell is For Children

Requested: Yes|No

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

A/N: Special thanks to @oliverbrnch for editing this chapter and making it into what is is !!! I hope you all enjoy my first CM fanfiction !!!

Summary: After 13 years of trying to forget the man he was supposed to call his father, Spencer finds his phone riddled with messages from his father trying to catch up on "old times". He's met with criticism and shame when he reveals he has no want to talk to him. Everyone seems to think his father deserves a second chance. Everyone except for him. Aaron Hotchner. Logically it made no sense, Aaron had a kid of his own, would he not sympathize with his father for wanting to have a relationship with his son? Spencer finds comfort in the older man. Everytime his phone buzzes with a notification from William Reid, Aaron is always there to comfort him and distract him from the burning hole in his back pocket.

Chapter warnings: Angst, allusions to physical abuse. descriptions of violence and gore, swearing, and I think that's it.

Chapter One

December 16th, 5:15pm

"Hey son, I haven't seen or heard from you in a while. I hope you're doing okay."

Seeing that message was enough to twist the young doctors stomach in such intricate and painful knots he thought he might become violently ill.

"A while?" Spencer muttered to himself as he reread the message over and over. "it's been thirteen years, that's more than a while-"

A second message interrupted his train of thought.

December 16th, 5:27pm

"Why don't you come over sometime? My wife would love to see you, just something to think about..."

This message made something inside him break, the world shattering as his knees failed him. He swore he felt time stop as he reread those nauseating characters.

Wife? Since when was he remarried?

'Does she even know what he did to my mom, to me?' Spencer wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from his phone.

Does she even know she left a ten-year-old alone with his mentally-ill mother? Did she know what a selfish bastard he was?

Did they have kids?

Were they really that easily replaced?

Spencers mind was spinning, his apartment floor unsteady underfoot as his vision blurred. Tears stung his eyes, threatening to slip down his cheeks if he dared to blink.

His misery was interrupted as his phone buzzed once more in his palm.

Thankfully, it wasn't from the dreaded unsaved number, just Hotch.

December 16th, 7:14pm

"We have a case."

Spencer gathered his things, wiping the tears from his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve. He'd never been more grateful to hear those four words in his entire life.

His ride on the metro felt infinitely slower than normal, much to the young doctors dismay. The extra free time gave his mind permission to run away from his as much as it pleased.

His phone vibrated again and again with more messages from the unsaved number, each one more hostile and manipulative than the next when Spencer glanced at the device.

December 16th, 7:23pm

"Will you at least give me an answer? I know I screwed up, but that was a long time ago! I have a right to get to know my son."

December 16th, 7:25pm

"Imagine how I feel, not knowing my son has 3 PhD's and having to find out from my ex-wifes nurse. You're not the only one suffering here kid, remember that."

Spencer snapped his battered phone shut in frustration.

How did he even manage to make himself out to be the victim in this?

He's the one who left me.

'I don't owe him shit, not after what he did to me', Spencer thought furiously to himself, his knuckles white where they gripped his messenger bag.

'Maybe I should give him some kind of answer, let him know where he can stick-'

By the time the sentence popped into his head, his chest aching, he had reached his stop. Although cases weren't particularly a positive thing, anything was better than thinking about the man who had abandoned him and, subsequently, essentially ruined his entire life.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, he could feel his co-workers' eyes pierce right through him. It was almost like they could sense something was off with him the moment he entered Quantico.

Of course, while they were profilers, it's not like they were mind-readers.

He fled to the break room and poured himself a generous cup of coffee. He wanted to focus on what was important, which was certainly not the unread messages from a fetid man on his cellphone.

While pouring practically the entire container of sugar into his travel mug, he felt someone's hand touch his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, and he turned to see Morgan, his eyebrows scrunched together in a confused and worried look.

"Slow down, kid. Have some coffee with your sugar." He said, his voice half-joking as he, presumably, tried to ease the tension practically emitting off of Spencer.

His phone vibrated once more from somewhere in his pockets, and Spencer's face twisted in fervent discomfort.

"Earth to Pretty Boy. You good?"

Spencer realized he was getting absorbed into his thoughts again and tried to brush it off with a quick sip of the sickly-sweet caffeinated concoction in his hand and a quick nod.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." as if Spencer ever stopped thinking in the first place.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything, kid. But for right now, let's go find out about this case." Derek clapped Spencer on the shoulder again, which earned an instinctual flinch.

Instead of dwelling on that, Derek and Spencer strode towards the conference room, where everyone else had already begun piling in ad Garcia and Prentiss introduced them to their present case.

"Three men were found dead on the streets of a Nevada strip mall last night," Garcia began, pulling up the crime scene photos onto the screen.

Spencer flipped through the folder that was handed to him, scanning over the photos while distantly listening to the rather gruesome but ultimately unhelpful details Prentiss and Garcia were describing.

All three men had one of their fingers removed, yet their wedding bands were later found in their stab wounds upon closer investigation. They were all three found in close proximity to different hotels and known "lover's lanes".

The incessant vibrations and noise emitting from the dreaded device in his pocket was enough to make Spencer have a brain aneurysm.

He retrieved the phone from his pocket only to switch it off and shove it into the deep depths of his messenger bag. It wasn't necessary for a plane ride anyway.

His sudden movements earned him a few more concerned glances, but their attention was quickly diverted as Prentiss announced, "Wheels up in 30." effectively dismissing the team to get their things.

Spencer was restless the entire plane ride. It was only thirty minutes into the trip, with an hour and ten minutes left.

Normally, he'd be playing chess or even reading, but neither of those things seemed to tempt him, as all he could think of were the numerous messages probably flooding his discarded phone banished to the bottom of his messenger bag.

The last message he'd read replayed repeatedly in his mind like some awful alarm.

'Imagine how I feel...'

It made fiery anger swirl in his chest.

He could imagine how he felt. Because the pain William Reid inflicted before he finally left was enough to make Spencer understand what it was like to be sent to Hell and back, if such a place existed.

The memory of watching his own father leave his house at age 10 was enough to make him feel nauseous. His father leaving was the final stake through the young man's heart.

The physical pain, he could probably forgive him for. He would never forget, but maybe he could understand.

But leaving your young on to care for his mentally-ill mother? After all the pain he put him through, that kick while Spencer was already down was a new low.

For all Spencer cared, the man could rot. It was almost funny, thirteen years of healing down the drain with just a few text messages.

Once again, Spencer was ripped from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, It was Hotch, with a guarded but concerned look on his face.

"You've been way too quiet; is everything alright?"

'No', Spencer thought to himself. But he couldn't admit he wasn't okay, especially not before a case. More important things needed to be tended for than his own "daddy issues".

"I'll be okay," Spencer settled for. "Just some weird stuff has been happening lately. It's nothing I can't take care of, though."

It didn't dissuade Hotch's concerned look. If anything, it intensified the worry Spencer found there.

"Is it your mother? Is she alright?" He asked, leaning forward with furrowed eyebrows.

"She's okay! I actually just called her the other night," Spencer assured him. He bit his lip and gripped his messenger bag. "It's actually, uh, my dad. He's been messaging me, and I haven't spoken to him in thirteen years."

"Are you okay? Have you messaged him back any?" Hotch asked, releasing the worried lines on his forehead.

"I haven't, yet. I figured I'd wait until the case was over. That way, there's nothing in the way." Spencer explained, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes darted around the jet cabin.

Hotch must have picked up the signal to wrap up the conversation, because he gently reminded the young man that he could talk to him whenever he needs to, or just whenever he wants to.

Spencer smiled and inclined his head slightly. "Thanks, Hotch."

"It's not a problem, Reid. Now, let's get back to work."

Spencer flicked through the gruesome photos once more, the swirling anger in his chest dwindling for the first time since his phone at first pinged with that dreaded message.

For once, Spencer was able to completely forget about the slightly outdated phone burning a hole in the bottom of his messenger bag.

[echo-three-one]

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick. 

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling. 

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy. 

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

~

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound. 

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence. 

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently. 

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine." 

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past.  The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby,  are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder. 

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John." 

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 6 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It’s an Avs Gameday...you know what that means...Cale time. I wasn’t going to post this until I had finished part 7 (which I’ve been struggling to focus on for what a week now...) but I just finished that so there’s really no reason for me not to post this part. Keep your eyes peeled for a poll type post in a few hours because I need suggestions of things/places/situations moving forward for these two. Also pictures of the house will be post immediately after this one and will be tagged ‘038′ if anyone needs visual imagery to go along with this chapter. 

Warnings: smut, language, angst?

Word Count: 3,836

~~~~

As much as you’d been filled with a small sense of dread to arrive in Denver, that same feeling settled deep in your stomach as you climbed on the plane to leave. You’d woken to the feeling of Cale’s lips on your neck and his hand on your stomach under the fabric of your shirt. Though it wasn’t something you were used to...you knew that you could quickly get used to it, no question. 

Cale had refused to say goodbye, only ‘I’ll see you soon’ as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Though leaving was hard, navigating through whatever this was while hundreds of miles apart was something you were determined to do and so Facetimes and phone calls became a much more frequent companion. With a countdown timer on your phone tracking the absolute last possible day Cale would be home for the summer you attempted not to dwell on the questions you had, choosing instead to just take things a day at a time. 

Taking things a day at a time had led you to this point. Boxes upon boxes were scattered around you here in the living room and everywhere else. For the first time all day, you were standing listening as silence filled the air around you as you took in your new home. After years of saving for this day and months of thinking about it, you were finally a homeowner and you couldn’t be more excited. To make things even better, Cale was due to fly in tomorrow after being eliminated from playoffs. You couldn’t wait to hug him, to show him this place, to feel his lips on yours once more. 

As you debated whether to dig into another box or order dinner, there was a sharp knock at your door. Figuring one of your neighbors had seen you moving in and had stopped by to introduce themselves you headed to the front door, throwing it open. 

Immediately a shriek left your throat and you threw your body forward toward your unexpected guest. A pair of strong hands caught your hips and a low male chuckle reached your ears. Tilting your head, you latched your lips onto his, pulling away after a moment to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“What are you doing here? Your flight isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!”  Your eyes raked over Cale’s body as he held you close, observing the toll playoffs had taken on him. He seemed thinner than you remembered and a cut below his eye was in the later stages of healing, but that was just what you could see on a cursory examination. You were sure there were other bruises and wounds that hadn’t been revealed to you yet. 

“Are you going to let me in?” Cale chirped. “Or do I only get to see the curb appeal of this new place of yours?” Stepping aside, you watched Cale carry in two big bags along with his carry-on, one of the larger bags clearly full of his equipment. He set them off to the side of the entry toward the living room as you closed the door behind him. The moment his hands were free, you stepped into him once more, your palms settling against his chest. 

“Are you going to answer me? What are you doing here?” Cale’s smirk grew as he ducked his head to kiss you again, but it quickly turned into a pout when you pulled away, awaiting an answer. 

“I flew in early okay. So that I could see you.” Your cheeks warmed slightly and you let him sneak a quick kiss before staring at him for a more detailed explanation. “I knew my mom would be all over me when I got home and I just wanted some time with you without being asked a million questions. So I took an earlier flight. I’ll either take an uber home tomorrow or maybe I can say you picked me up.” His eyes were almost pleading as he suggested you give him a ride home tomorrow and you sighed rolling your eyes at him. 

“We’ll see if you earn that privilege or if I’m gonna make you suffer another uber ride.” You joked. “And just an FYI you only missed your parents by like fifteen minutes so your plan almost backfired on you big time.” 

“But it didn’t now, did it?” Cale whispered sharply, his eyes dark. “Now...are we past the pleasantries? Can I kiss you like I’ve been dying to since you left?” Left breathless by the way he was looking at you, you simply nodded pressing up onto your toes to meet him halfway. His hands tangled in your hair and he deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue into your mouth in a fight for dominance. 

It had been so hard to stop things from progressing that night on his couch, and the need you felt now was exponentially greater. As one of his hands dropped to slip under the back of the ratty tank you were wearing you realized that you didn’t want him to stop. 

“Cale…” You moaned, desire pooling in your core. Your nails scraped over the back of his neck and he grunted in response, twisting to push you back against your new front door. The press of his body against yours had you tossing your head back against the wood and you gasped his name again as his lips grazed over your neck. 

“Yeah, sunshine...you know how much I missed you?” He mumbled, his words muffled by your skin. “Did my girl miss me too?” Cale had called you every form of friend from best friend to childhood friend to closest friend before but hearing him call you his girl was new and that simple possessive phrase made you need him all the more. 

His hands slipped under your thighs to leverage your legs up and around his waist before they landed on your ass, holding your body steady against his own. 

“I’m hoping you at least have a mattress lying around somewhere?” He questioned, pausing every few words to kiss you again. “Or am I fucking you right here?” Your body shuddered in response, a needy moan spilling forth once more. 

“End of the hall.” You directed. “Though I can’t say I’m opposed to the latter option.” You added, rolling your hips against his abdomen. 

“Noted.” Cale groaned, shifting away from the door to head down the hall. You tucked your head into Cale’s neck, peppering kisses along his skin so that he could see over you and not trip on the scattered boxes. When he reached the bed, he dropped you onto it gently, quickly tugging his t-shirt over his head before joining you. 

“Can I?” He questioned, his hands beginning to tug at the material of your tank. 

“I’m all yours.” You assured him, lifting your arms to make his job easier. You giggled at him as he struggled to unclasp your bra but just moved to assist him, your lips seeking his out as you were pressed chest to chest for the first time. “Cale please…” You whimpered, needing more of everything: his touch, his kiss, the weight of him between your thighs. 

For a moment there was a flicker of hesitation in his blue eyes, but then it was gone and his fingers were fumbling with the button and zipper of your denim shorts. Sliding your own hands down his chest, you reached to release him as well, your hand grazing against his hardened length. 

“Y/N,” Cale warned, his voice gruff and you smiled, repeating the action with purpose, feeling him twitch against your palm. He shifted backward as he tugged your shorts and underwear off of your body and then he paused, his eyes taking in the sight of you bare for him for the first time. His cheeks grew rosy, but he quickly returned his body to its spot over yours, kissing you deeply. 

“You’re so sexy.” He breathed, his free hand starting to wander up and down your curves. 

“And you’re overdressed.” You chastised, still working to remove his remaining clothing to even the playing field. When he finally gave in and pushed the fabric off his hips, you gasped at the sight of him, hard and heavy against his stomach. You’d never felt as needy for someone as you felt for him right now and you were certain it showed in your body’s reactions. 

Kissing him once more, you felt his hands ghost over your skin, teasing softly. Nipping his lip lightly, you scraped your nails over his lower back. 

“Cale. I swear to god we have all the time in the world to experiment with whatever foreplay you want later...but if you don’t fuck me now I’m going to lose my mind.” You moaned, pressing your hips up against him in search of friction. 

Cale pulled away and for a moment you wanted to curse him until you realized he was grabbing a condom from his wallet. Taking it from him, you carefully tore the foil package open before rolling the condom over him. Cale then hovered over you again, his eyes almost cobalt blue and you watched his chest heave in anticipation. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. While you appreciated his need for consent, you’d thought your previous statement signaled exactly what you wanted. A short chuckle fell from his mouth at the exasperated look on your face and he shook his head, reaching down to line himself up with where you needed him. “Forget I asked.” He mumbled, kissing you hard as he pressed forward, burying himself inside you. 

Gasping, your body stretched around him and when you rolled your hips against his, he took that as his signal to move. Though you had expected that there might be some stumbles as you explored a physical relationship, Cale was incredibly good at reading your body language. He was quick to find an angle that hit all the right spots and it didn’t take much longer for him to settle into a rhythm that had you clinging to him as pleasure crept up on you. 

It was fast, it was needy, it was not the gentle sex a part of you had expected your first time with him would be. But it was good, god was it good. As much as you tried not to leave marks, you were certain your nails were leaving scratches all over Cale’s back and shoulders. At the same time, you knew you’d have marks from Cale’s mouth on your chest, his hands on your hips. 

As the knot in your stomach tightened, signaling your orgasm was near, Cale’s hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers rubbing over your swollen clit. 

“Oh Fuck.” You moaned, your toes curling as you worked to meet him thrust for thrust. It was right there, so close. 

“That’s my girl...come on…” Cale’s voice was strained as he gasped against your lips, his hips starting to stutter as his own orgasm approached. Hearing him call you his for the second time today caused your brain to short out and suddenly you felt your release crash over you leaving you warm and relaxed, your muscles syrupy as you finished spasming around him. Cale’s grunts reached your ears as he too achieved release and you winced as he carefully slipped out of you. 

As your breathing started to settle, Cale mumbled something about trash and you replied that there was a bag hanging over a broom in the kitchen. The bed shifted as he retreated, and then again as he settled back in beside you, his fingers turning your head so he could kiss you. 

“You okay?” He whispered, thumb brushing against your cheek. 

“Of course…” You assured him. “That was…” There were so many words you could use to describe it but none seemed to convey exactly what you wanted it to. 

“What sex should feel like.” Cale finished your thought for you and you nodded, though his statement made you think about how he hadn’t had much sex with his ex. Trailing your fingers down his chest, you propped yourself up a little to look at him. 

“It wasn’t like that with her?” The question escaped without running through your normal filters and though Cale tensed for a moment he eventually looked back at you, expression soft. 

“No.” He sighed. “It wasn’t. I..I don’t know how to explain it but there’s no comparison. I...I didn’t know what really good sex is supposed to feel like until just now.” As you thought about your previous sexual encounters you couldn’t help but agree. There was no comparison between what you’d experienced with them and what you’d just experienced with Cale. 

“Hmm...guess it’s a good thing we have plenty of time for more ‘really good sex’.” You grinned. “All night in fact.” Cale’s cheeks which had started to settle flushed right back up and you couldn’t help but laugh at his expense. 

“Except that was my only condom.” He mumbled, rubbing his face. 

“Guess it’s a good thing I have a brand new box somewhere in one of these bathroom boxes.” You insisted. Before you could tease Cale anymore, your stomach let out a long growl and it was your cheeks turn to heat up. Eyes filled with mirth, Cale kissed you gently before moving to climb out of bed. 

“How about we order some dinner, you can give me a tour of this house, and then we can talk about revisiting that idea.” He suggested, picking up your clothes and tossing them across the bed to you. When you didn’t immediately reach for the clothes, his gaze fell to you again, concern crossing his features. 

“Can you uh...maybe dig through one of those boxes and see if you can find me a rag to clean up?” You requested, your thighs and core still slick with arousal. Cale’s eyes went wide and he immediately turned to the stack of boxes in the corner. 

“Shit uh...just give me a minute.” He insisted, and you watched as he dug through them seemingly coming up empty. Instead of ransacking them further, he just tossed you his shirt from the floor beside him. 

“Cale I know I have rags…” You insisted, not wanting to dirty his shirt. 

“And I have other shirts.” He replied, a smirk on his face. “And I actually know exactly where they are.” He added. “I’m sure you’ve got a washing machine here somewhere...it’s fine, use it.” 

Accepting his shirt, you used it to wipe yourself down before throwing back on your dirty clothes. Clearly, the first thing you needed to do was unpack the bathroom boxes. Once you were redressed you leaned up to kiss him gently, your hands trailing lightly over his naked back. 

“Thank you.” You hummed, pulling away with a swing of your hips that made Cale groan. Tossing his shirt on the stairs to the basement, you moved through the living room to where Cale was tugging a shirt over his head in the hallway. Hugging him again, just because you could, you tucked your body against his as he wrapped his arms around you in return. After a few minutes of just enjoying being in each other’s space, you agreed on dinner and Cale placed an order for delivery. 

While you waited for food, you unpacked another couple boxes, finding the towels and rags in a box in the main bathroom instead of one off the master. It made sense since, for some reason, the master bath was only a sink and toilet and the shower was in the main bathroom, you just hadn’t thought about it when you’d asked for a rag. Hanging a couple of bath towels up in the main bathroom, you divided the hand towels and rags between the two before tucking any of the excess linens into the linen closet. Finding the box of condoms amongst your razors and feminine hygiene products, you tossed the box to Cale suggesting he move it to one of the nightstand drawers. He stayed, hovered over your shoulder for a moment and you watched him open the box through the reflection in the mirror. Reaching around you, he tucked two or three condoms into the vanity drawer before disappearing back into the master bedroom. 

You were collapsing the now empty box when he’d returned and his arms snuck around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“Having them in the bedroom wasn’t good enough?” You teased, the sound shifting to a squeal as Cale spun you around. 

“You know...in case we decide to test out this shower at some point.” He admitted, stealing a kiss before pulling away at the sound of a knock on the front door. Your stomach swooped at his words and by the time you pulled yourself together he was walking by with your dinner. 

Since the inside of the house was still a complete mess, it was clear that Cale had decided to eat outside because you found him lounging on your back patio, his back resting against the house. 

“You are...you’re something else, Cale…” You murmured as you moved to sit next to him. “I’m learning a whole different side of you and it’s...kinda sexy. It’s throwing me but I like it.” Bumping your shoulder against his side, you took the container of food he handed you, digging in. You hadn’t eaten all day so this was exactly what you needed after the labor of moving and unpacking and then the unexpected physical activities. 

Dinner was enjoyed with only the sounds of birds chirping as background. When Cale finished, he set his trash aside and dropped his hand to your knee looking around. 

“Why do I get the feeling this yard was a main factor in you picking this house?” He waited until you had finished eating as well to ask the question. Tucked into his side you laced your fingers with his before responding. 

“Because it was and you seem to know me fairly well.” You murmured. 

“Tell me more. Show me this place through your eyes.” Cale whispered, his eyes soft and filled with so much affection that it nearly left you breathless again. 

“Well...I mean you know what Calgary is like…” You started. “Finding a property that has a decent-sized yard is no easy task.” Cale nodded in agreement and you took a deep breath before continuing. “And I don’t know...I walked out here for the first time and immediately thought of throwing Canada Day parties for family and friends.”

When you paused again, Cale knew there was more to it than that and he nudged your side. 

“C’mon sunshine...you know you can tell me anything.” Cale urged, tilting your head up to his for a moment. “You’re not going to scare me away if that’s what you’re thinking…” Your eyes must have given you away because Cale turned to face you better, his expression turning serious. “Y/N...I’m in this okay. I want you. I want to be with you. There is practically nothing you could say that would make me walk away. Okay?” You couldn’t help but nod in response to him, even if your stomach was twisting at the vulnerability required to tell him everything he wanted to know. 

“I don’t know. I guess deep down every house I looked at, I was looking for a yard big enough to make a small rink in.” You admitted, motioning to the long corner of the yard. “I can picture that going over there.” You explained. “And then there’s still room for training equipment or I don’t know…” You murmured. The moment you stepped into this house it was hard not to see Cale everywhere, to imagine how a life with him would fit here even as just a summer residence. 

Taking your hand, Cale led you back inside, tossing your containers into the trash before guiding you to the living room. 

“Keep going.” He murmured, his arms wrapping around you. 

“I fell in love with this room in general.” You breathed. “The big bay window, the gas fireplace, the built-in bookshelf.” There were so many charms that you couldn’t not love it, even if the shape made placing furniture a little awkward. “And I mean there are little changes I’d like to make, fix the different floorings so they all match, maybe change the facade of the fireplace because the height feels a little too much...but for now it works and I still love it.” 

Guiding him through the living room toward the kitchen you paused for just a moment. “And I mean the kitchen is just gorgeous. Lots of counter space.” Turning toward the backdoor, you guided Cale downstairs, grabbing his dirty shirt to carry down to the laundry. At the bottom of the stairs, you paused again, giving Cale a moment to take in just how massive the finished basement was. 

“Sunshine,” Cale spoke softly, pulling your attention back from the wandering it had been doing. 

“I set foot down here and I...immediately I pictured a couple of kids running around, playing tag or whatever. And there’s just so much space...there are so many things that could be done down here.” You finished, weakly backtracking at the feeling of Cale’s gaze heavy upon you. 

After tossing his shirt into the laundry, you moved back upstairs and through the kitchen. “You already saw the master. Again big windows, big closet.” You paused again at the main bathroom. “I mean the shower is...speaks for itself really.” You shrugged. Pointing up at the front bedroom you murmured about it being a nice guest room and then finally you stopped in front of the last bedroom. 

“They had this one staged as an office…” You stated. “But uh…” Your throat got tight as you tried to speak and after a moment Cale’s hands were rubbing soothing patterns along the base of your spine. “I can’t help but picture it as a nursery…” You sighed, voice barely audible. You knew this was the one problem the age difference was likely to present. Cale was so young that kids likely weren’t even close to the front of his mind but although it was ticking slowly, you could hear your biological clock in the back of your mind. Except now it wasn’t just kids in general racing into your thoughts, it was Cale’s kids, making it so much harder to ignore. 

With Cale not responding, you ducked your head and moved to slip out of his arms, tears seeking to well up in your eyes. 

“So uh yeah...that’s everything.” You mumbled. Cale had said you couldn’t chase him away, but you feared you’d said just a little bit too much and had done just that, your heart breaking at the thought. 

[agcntemily]

Omg omg omg you write Penelope and elle??? I love them sm. Such an underrated ship.

If you're still taking requests, can I request a mix of 3 from hurt and 7 from comfort for them? Penelope just always has to check that Elle is okay when she gets back from the field.

prompts: “blood? are you bleeding?” — 3, hurt. “you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now.” — 7, comfort.

notes: thank you for requesting!! i love this ship — penelope would totally check on elle every time, platonic or romantic. elle would always brush her away, rolling her eyes, but she secretly loves being taken care of by penelope <3 | also hi, sorry this is so short and just not very well written. i want to write more for them on my ao3 soon!

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Penelope Garcia was a worrier. When someone she cared deeply for was hurt in any way, shape, or form; she was the first one to raise concern. Having her teammates be so up close to serial killers, while she was stuck behind the screens unable to know anything firsthand, caused her to develop a small fear every time they left. Her anxiety didn’t settle until everyone was back safely. Having Elle out in that field only made it hurt ten times worse.

Elle Greenaway had absolutely no care in the world for her own health, and Penelope had learned this the hard way. She put herself in countless of dangerous situations to save people. While Penelope applauded her for her bravery and dedication to the job, she just wished Elle wouldn’t throw herself in front of harms way to get the job done. But that’s where she came in — sparkly purple bandaids and magic kisses to make the injuries feel better.

The first time it had happened, Elle had been sent to her by Hotch after he realized she’d never gotten checked out by a proper paramedic. She’d come to Penelope with a nasty scrape on her arm, insisting it didn’t hurt. The wince that came across her face when Penelope sprayed a disinfectant spray over it said otherwise, but the bubbly blonde was more focused on ensuring Elle felt better. Her own heart couldn’t rest until she’d asked if there were any further injuries, stuck a purple bandaid on her arm, and gave her a lollipop from her secret stash. She’d even pressed a kiss to Elle’s hand before sending her off.

The second time it happened, Elle came to her. Willingly. She slumped right down in the chair, mumbling something about immature paramedics trying to get her number. Penelope was less concerned with the fact that Elle was getting hit on by people who were supposed to be professionals, and more concerned with the purplish bruise forming on the side of her head. Apparently, she’d been knocked in the head by the suspects elbow when she’d tried to disarm him. There wasn’t much Penelope could really do for her aside from helping hold ice to it and giving her a few painkillers for the headaches. Although, Elle did smile a little when Penelope had offered her a kiss near the bruise to ease the pain.

From then on, Elle continued coming to her after injuries happened. Sometimes, they sat in silence. Penelope would clean her up, place a kiss somewhere near the injury, hand out a lollipop, and send her back. Other times, Elle opened up about what had happened and how much it hurt. Either way, Penelope always offered a kiss.

This time wasn’t any different. As soon as Penelope had gotten the text from Hotch that the team was on their way back, she called Elle. It barely rang once before the brunette’s voice came through.

“Hi, Garcia.” That was a sigh, a sigh Elle only made when she was in pain.

Penelope’s heart immediately clenched. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, Pen, I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s not my blood.” That was Elle’s first mistake. Later, Penelope would tease her about how adorable it was that she had no clue how to use technology. Now, though, her statement only created more concern.

“Blood? Are you bleeding?” God, Penelope absolutely hated how far away the team traveled. She would have to wait hours before she could make sure Elle was okay and calm her racing heart.

There was some shuffling before Elle spoke again. “I thought this was a video call?”

The confusion in her voice was cute, but Penelope wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “No, gumdrop, this is just a regular call. Why are you bleeding?”

“I never know how to use these new phones,” Elle grumbled. “I liked my old one just fine, but someone had to drop it in the lake.”

She was very pointedly referring to the incident that had taken place a few trips ago. Morgan had forgotten his own phone at the hotel, and had borrowed Elle’s to take a picture of the lake for evidence. He wound up dropping it into what Penelope considered a swamp, and made it his personal mission to buy her a new phone. “Not one of those old school flip phones. You need a good one, something that’ll get you around,” is what he had said. So far, said phone had given her nothing but trouble. Penelope half considered stealing it and modifying it down to a more simpler version for her.

“Elle, sunshine, I need you to focus for a minute.” Penelope’s voice raised an octave involuntarily.

Elle let out a deep sigh from the other end. “Yeah, Pen?”

Then, in that small and cutesy voice that everyone seemed to adore, Penelope redirected their conversation. “Why are you bleeding?”

+

Penelope tracked Elle’s phone from the second she stepped foot back inside the BAU, to the second the door opened to her little lair. Elle barely had time to breathe before Penelope was hugging her tightly, bringing one hand to rest on the back of her head. She felt safe in the blonde’s arms, not that she would ever like to admit it. Warm, safe, cared for — it was everything she craved to feel after a case like this.

She caved pretty quickly, dropping her head to Penelope’s shoulder. It wasn’t long before the burn of tears in her eyes became too much, and she was certain that Penelope could feel her hot tears dripping onto her shirt. “Oh, my little gumdrop,” she heard beside her ear. “Where does it hurt?”

Elle blew out a shaky breath, trying to steady her voice. “My ear. Morgan cleaned up the blood.”

The story had been revealed during the plane ride home: an unsub had caught Elle as she was clearing one room of his house, and he had no qualms about punching her straight in the ear. According to the paramedics on the scene, her hearing was fine, but she refused to let them clean her up or check over anything else. Hotch only agreed because the paramedics said it wasn’t anything too serious and Elle was clearly shaken up over the whole ordeal.

“He did?” Penelope hoped her voice was low enough that it wasn’t hurting the woman in her arms. She felt a nod against her shoulder. “That was nice of him.” Keeping one arm wrapped around Elle’s waist, she brought her other hand to gently rub her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She felt a little shake of Elle’s head. “No,” came the small voice. Penelope’s heart swooned. She did the only thing there was left to do, and the one thing she could do better than being a technical analyst; comfort her (girl)friend.

“Okay,” she sighed, feeling the warm tears still soaking through her shirt. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’ll be alright. No one can hurt you now.” She punctuated her sentences by pressing her lips to Elle’s temple, leaving a series of kisses.

For the first time in years, Elle felt protected. She felt loved, which is something she hadn’t felt since before her father died. The feeling was overwhelming, adding onto her tears. Penelope Garcia’s worrying could be overbearing to some people, but being loved by Penelope Garcia was one of the most amazing experiences Elle could ever recommend.

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[tealin]

Cape Crozier: The Outward Journey

As always, please visit the original blog for proper formatting. Sigh, Tumblr.

I am telling this as the last of my field trips, because it was without doubt the climax of my Antarctic adventures.  In actual fact, this happened the day after the previous climax, which was when I flew over the Beardmore Glacier. If time was invented so everything didn't happen at once, and space was invented so it didn't happen to you, then Time and Space were apparently out on a girls' weekend in late November 2019.

There was one major journey yet to undertake, in my visits to sites of historical importance.  It was the location of a minor side-quest in the story of the Scott Expedition – one could, theoretically, leave it out of a retelling with no narrative consequences – but it's the central episode and emotional fulcrum of The Worst Journey in the World, and gave the book its title.  In June and July 1911, the dead of Antarctic winter, three men set off from Cape Evans to reach the Emperor penguin colony at Cape Crozier, on the other side of Ross Island, to fetch some eggs when the embryos were at the right stage of development to yield potential clues to the evolution of birds.  The adventure ended up being more of a test of human endurance than avian ancestry, and the results got from the few specimens they did collect did not advance the theory they were hoped to prove (though scientists would remind us that negative results are still results).  However, it is an amazing story of what people are willing to undertake for the sake of intellectual progress, and in this instance, of how cast-iron character can make the unimaginably awful endurable, and as such, it very much warrants the retelling.

Unlike Cape Evans, Cape Crozier is hard to get to, hostile, and not very well documented.  There was no way I could ever visit it at midwinter, but, having almost no clue what the place was like beyond the written word, it was vitally important to me to stand there myself and get a sense of the geography, so that I could draw figures groping around it in moonlight and blizzard when the time came.  Luckily the NSF agreed that it was important I go, because it was the most complex and expensive trip to arrange.  It would necessitate a helicopter ride; helicopters cost so much to fly, and are so necessary for shuttling people and stuff around any part of Antarctica that is inaccessible by plane (which is most of Antarctica), that their use is very strictly rationed.  I had exactly enough helicopter time allocated to get me to Cape Crozier and back.  Therefore, we had to fly on a day when it was absolutely certain we would not have to turn around, because an aborted trip would mean I didn't have enough flight hours left to try again.  Antarctic weather is unpredictable and Cape Crozier has a reputation for turning very nasty very fast, so this needed to be a careful judgement call.

The first day it was posited I fly, it didn't happen – I forget why; I think there was a backup in other jobs, and mine, being of low importance, got dropped to make room.  The second time, I was slotted for 3:45pm, though with one eye on the weather and the other on resources, the right was reserved to cancel at any time.  A little after 2:30 my coordinator called to say we were, as far as anyone could tell, good to go, so to meet at Helo Ops at 3 for the safety briefing and helmet fitting.

Accompanying me to the far reaches of Ross Island would be my coordinator, who had been a few times before; the pilot, who was one of the best in the biz and had flown for pretty much any Antarctic documentary you care to name; and a biologist, who was required to go because Cape Crozier hosted a rare and fragile species of Antarctic lichen, which we must be careful not to step on or disturb in any way.  The biologist who usually went on these trips was feeling unwell, so she sent a replacement, who was very happy to have the opportunity as he had never been to Cape Crozier before.  Of course, this meant he didn't know what the lichen looked like, but we would doubtless find out when we got there.

Team assembled and briefing done, we had only to wait for the flight to be activated.  The last possible moment came and went without cancellation, so we were on.

The latest weather report from the station at Cape Crozier was that it was 30% cloudy with winds at 7 knots.  Keeping an eye on the wind was important for obvious safety reasons; the cloud conditions, though, were important for less obvious reasons.  The helicopter pilot needs shadows and detail to be able to tell how far away the ground is, either to stay in the air or to make an emergency landing.  When clouds diffuse sunlight, a snow-covered surface looks perfectly blank, and no details show up to give a sense of scale or distance, so it's unsafe to fly.  

We were supposed to have flown along the south coast of Ross Island, following the route that Wilson, Bowers, and Cherry-Garrard sledged at great cost in 1911.  That side of the island was cloudy, however, so we were redirected to fly around the other side.  From a historical perspective this was a bit of a disappointment, but from an artistic one, the north side of the island was absolutely stunning, and I very quickly came to see why people with money to burn choose to travel by helicopter.

Plus, it meant we started out journey by flying over Cape Evans.

All of Ross Island is volcanic, and near Cape Royds is a small parasitic cone which was explored by the expedition's geologists, who were also the first to climb Mt. Erebus.  I thought it was named Mt. Sis, after someone's sister, but in fact it is Mt. Cis, after one of their dogs.  Our pilot had been this way before and had something special to show us:

On top of Mt. Cis is a pickaxe.  I don't believe there's any historical record of anyone leaving it there, but the Nimrod Expedition is not my speciality.  It has been checked out, and the pickaxe is a model that was in use in the early 20th century, so either an early explorer stuck it there and didn't bother writing it down, or a later explorer found an old pickaxe and stuck it there to give the impression an early explorer had done so.  Anyway, it's been there as long as anyone can remember, and doesn't seem to have suffered much, so will probably continue to be there for some time to come.

From there, onwards up the east coast to cross over the shoulder between Mt Erebus and Cape Bird, then over the snowy slopes of Terror, and the dissipating sea ice, to reach our destination.

Our first sight of Cape Crozier was the Adélie penguin rookery.  This is one of the largest in the world, where upwards of 250,000 penguins congregate to make the next generation of penguins every year.  I had not seen a penguin yet, and though my eyeballs were pointed directly at them, I was too far up to see any now, but their presence is evident in the vast, vast amount of light brown penguin poo.

On this side of Ross Island, the ice shelf is unimpeded by smaller islands or awkward quirks of geology as it is around McMurdo.  As it grinds around the corner, here, it crinkles, and then as it straightens out again, the crinkles break, and the ice lets in long fingers of sea, which freezes during the winter.  It is on these frozen fingers, sheltered from the worst of the blizzards by the taller segments of Ice Shelf, that the Emperor penguins incubate their eggs through the Antarctic winter.

It was these finger bays that our intrepid explorers were trying to reach, but they needed to establish their base camp somewhere a little more secure, on the solid rock of Cape Crozier.  We were on our way to do the same.

The hill coming up was incredibly exciting to see, perhaps even more exciting than Observation Hill.  When the Terra Nova first arrived at Ross Island, it was not on the McMurdo side of it, but rather here, because Cape Crozier was posited to be the most sensible site for Expedition headquarters. It had been explored on the Discovery Expedition, so they knew there was permanent access to the ice shelf, and thus the road south, unlike Hut Point or Cape Royds which would be cut off by miles of open sea for half the year.  It had reliable fresh water nearby, and the Emperor penguins would be right next door.  On the day the Terra Nova arrived, though, the swell on the sea was too high to permit a landing, and when they sent out a scouting party on one of the whaleboats, they discovered no suitable landing place. So they had no choice but to make for the old familiar haunts on the other side of the island.

Now, this is so much historical trivia, except that as part of exploring my desired artistic style and putting together my grant proposal for this trip, I had drawn that scouting journey, and prominent in the scene is this very hill, with its orca eye-spot of snow.  The early explorers called it The Knoll.

This was based on a photograph taken on that day, which clearly shows The Knoll, and also that in January 1911 the ice front was a very long way back from where it is now.

As you can see, what is open water in 1911 is thick and pressured ice in my own photo from 2019.

Now, before you jump on this as proof that climate change is a lie, you may like to hear about my conversation with a scientist who has been studying the Cape Crozier Emperors for over forty years.  He said that, while usually the leading edge of the ice shelf crumbles into small icebergs, occasionally enormous chunks drift off in one go.  When they do, they take a whole generation of Emperor chicks with them, long before they are ready to swim, and that generation is lost.  There is another Emperor colony at Beaufort Island, off the north coast of Ross Island, and following a catastrophe at Cape Crozier, a lot of breeding pairs move to Beaufort, and vice versa. 

When the Crozier party arrived at the Emperor rookery in July 1911, Wilson was expecting the two thousand birds he'd seen when he visited with the Discovery, but there were only a hundred.  Therefore it is plausible that, sometime between 1903 and 1911, a very large chunk of ice had pulled away from Cape Crozier, pushing the shoreline back and scaring off the penguins.

Back to the present, now, or at least last November.  We had just passed The Knoll and were on our way to our landing site, a short walk away from the site of our penguin hunters' stone igloo.  The place they chose to call home is the thin little ridge sticking out into the mist at the left of this photo:

Here we come …

And there we are.

When the Crozier party set off on their science trip in 1911, the three men hauled two sledges for two and a half weeks, through deep soft snow and temperatures that broke known records – down to -77°F one night, according to the thermometer slung under the sledge.  The transcendent misery of marching in frozen clothes, not being able to get proper sleep for the shivering, and burning their precious fuel through the night just to survive, is carved deep in Cherry's writing of the experience.  To say it was hellish is no exaggeration: Cherry points out that Dante put the circle of ice below the circles of fire in his Inferno, and thought it was apropos.  The greatest challenge of our own journey out was landing the helicopter: given the sensitive environment and the fragile lichens, there was a specific landing site that was supposed to be marked out with stones.  Our pilot circled once to find it, and came back around because he couldn't spot it the first time, then finally landed right on the GPS waymark because there was no visible clue where the actual site was supposed to be.  As difficulties go, it hardly bears mention.  Whether we'd earned it or not, however, we were there.

[hisunshiine]

Escape ✈︎ Chapter 4

✈︎ chapter 4: you have been cordially invited... |✈︎ Escape Series—18+, Mature     

   ✈︎ genre: fluff, future smut

   ✈︎ word count: 2,736 words 

   ✈︎ pairing: jungkook x [redacted] (at the very end)

   ✈︎ warnings: alcohol consumption

   ✈︎ summary: A look into what it's like arriving to Bangtania...

| series masterlist | previous | next | hisunshiine | mrsparkjimin18 |

Everyday, since the very beginning when it was announced, you have sat at your computer or been on your phone in order to participate in the giveaway for a chance to go to Bangtania Island. Every week, one lucky person has a chance to win an exclusive invitation from the girls who organized it, all expenses paid for them to relocate out there.  

Friday couldn’t have come soon enough; your job was draining. A typical 9-5, doing office work was monotonous and you slogged through the week waiting for your weekends to come. Despite the wish to find something else, nobody was hiring in your city. Not for anything you wanted to do, anyways. Deep in your gut you felt the need for something more, instead of the repetitious clacking of your fingers against the keyboard, answering the phones, and feeling like a machine.

Fortunately, it’s the weekend, so you decide to stop and grab a bottle of wine and make your way home. You’re ready to unwind with some youtube videos and spend time browsing your social media for anything interesting. You pour a glass of wine and relax on the sofa, open your laptop and log in to twitter. You have a few notifications, including an update from the giveaway page, they had posted there was another winner chosen and that the winner would receive an email shortly.

“That was 30 minutes ago!?” You squeal to yourself, an unexplainable feeling creeping over you.

Just then your phone chimes, and you unlock the screen to check your notifications. You have multiple email notifications, so you check your email app as you sip your wine. Scrolling through them, it’s mainly junk mail, you see one that catches your eye.

Sender Name: Bangtania Island Mayor

Subject: You have been cordially invited…

Y/N,

Congratulations! You have been selected as the next lucky winner to be invited to Bangtania Island. In order to accept this invitation, please click on the link and fill out the application. Documents you may need to gather prior to completing the forms in the link are:

Driver’s License

Social Security Card

Passport

Please make sure to include the earliest date for you to travel, and please have your physical completed prior to boarding the plane. All documents needed are attached to the email. Please make sure to electronically sign them and reply to this email with the completed documents. If you have any questions in regards to the forms, please do not hesitate to reach out. Upon completion of all required documents per your reply email, you will receive your e-ticket for travel.

The following are the guidelines and stipulations for traveling to Bangtania Island:

You will receive a one-way ticket, free of cost. You will be picked up from the airport and transported to the boat, which will bring you to the island. You will be given a limited amount of time to decide if you would like to stay as a permanent resident of Bangtania, approximately 2 weeks. Prior to you being granted full access to the island, you will meet with the Deputy Mayor who will greet you at the dock, completing a brief in-person interview. If you decide to leave or prove unfit for the island at that time, a complimentary ticket home will be provided to you up until the 2-week window.

Thank you,

Vanessa

Deputy Mayor of the Mayor’s Office, Bangtania Island

You couldn’t stop yourself from spilling some wine as you low-key panicked. You knew there was a very good possibility of being chosen; some of your mutuals on twitter had already left to go there, and while you had seen them briefly on the TL, it was never for long and they didn’t say anything other than that they were enjoying themselves immensely and to share the sweepstakes link.

You set down what was left of your wine that hadn’t spilt into your lap, and ran around your room, pulling clothes off of their hangers and out of your dresser drawers before you remembered you hadn’t even clicked the link to complete the forms. 

Pausing in the middle of your bedroom, arms filled with random clothes, you took 7 deep breaths to try and calm down before dropping your handful of clothes into your pen and waiting suitcase. Sitting back down, you calmly clicked the link and once transported to the secure website, you filled in the information needed so that your flight could be purchased for you as well as any other accommodations you may need could be handled by the ones in charge. 

You printed out the forms needed for the physical, jotted down some notes to go to the doctor on Monday to complete the form, and decided that the earliest you would be able to fly out was Wednesday. That gives you enough time to go to your job, request use of your vacation hours for the next 2 weeks, and turn in your two week notice. You didn’t ever want to come back to that shit hole.

You celebrated the news by turning up your bluetooth speaker and blasting your favorite upbeat BTS songs while you packed up everything you would need. Hasta La Vista!

Catching your flight was easier than you thought it would be, as you had an upgraded flight in first class. You were given star treatment, access to a separate waiting area with complimentary food and drinks, less people to deal with, comfortable seats, the works. You couldn’t believe that ARMY was able to provide all of this for you, but who were you to complain? 

The boat ride was also nice, more like taking a large yacht across the water to the island, you stood at the bough of the boat for most of the trip, enjoying the view as you became farther and farther away from everything that was shitty about your life and closer to everything you wanted. An escape into a world that was full of other people who were like you, liked the same music, had the same mindset, and you got to do it all on a paradise island? Hell fucking yeah.

After docking, you rolled your luggage behind you as you disembarked from the ramp, and saw a girl waiting for you. She was short but cute, a friendly smile and aura of being in charge. Her cheeks were slightly sunburnt, but you were envious of the way she looked refreshed, skin glowing. You couldn’t wait for that to be you; sunkissed and relaxed from the ocean breeze and too many margaritas.

“Y/n?” She asked, and you nodded.

“Welcome! I’m Vanessa, I hope that your trip went well?”

“Oh yea, it was awesome, thank you!”

“No problem, congratulations on winning! So before we go off to the fun stuff, we have a brief interview and a few more things to go over, and then I’ll give you a tour of the island and show you to your place. If you’ll follow me?”

Vanessa led the way to a golf cart and you climbed on, your luggage secured in the back seat of the cart. She turned the key, and you were speeding off towards a large house. It was painted white with accents of brick, and green ivy climbing lattices. The windows were large and beautiful, and you felt like you had seen them somewhere before. Like they were in a magazine or some type of professional photos or something. You shrugged off the feeling of deja vu, and followed Vanessa into the house.

The windows were open and provided a good amount of sunlight into the entryway, and you tried to take in as much as you could see as Vanessa walked past a staircase and led you towards the back of the house and into a side room. It was an office, with bright white walls and a large sturdy desk. A bookshelf was the entire wall behind the desk, where she now sat at. 

She gestured to the plush chair in front of her desk and you sat down, suddenly nervous. For such a large house, it was pretty quiet, and you wondered where all the other people were. Was this actually all an elaborate trick to sell you into sex trafficking and you were brought here to die?!

You calmed your thoughts once you heard laughter from somewhere above you, and music playing lightly from another area of the house.

“So, once again, welcome! I am the deputy mayor here, and basically in charge of getting you all settled. We are a formal nation, Bangtania, with a president, a whole government system, and we’re working on expanding the businesses here. Before I can reveal anything more to you, I do need to have you sign the Non-Disclosure Agreement here in person. I know that I sent it to you via email for you to read and electronically sign, but I like to cover all of my bases.”

Like clockwork, another woman walked into the open office door, carrying a glass of wine and some papers. She took a sip and handed the papers to Vanessa, who thanked her as she headed back out of the room. The woman blew a kiss and disappeared around the corner.

“That’s my best friend, Talia, and definitely the reason that all of this was even put into motion,” Vanessa said as she shuffled the papers before straightening them gently by tapping the edges on the desk. She stapled the corner, binding the papers together, and passed it over to you.

“I know you read over most of this, but I want to reiterate a few points anyways. From the moment you leave this office, you are not to share with anyone about the other people on this island. When you first applied to the giveaway sweepstakes, you gave us your social media handles. While we won’t take away social media from you, your posts will be monitored for identifying certain people who wish to remain anonymous while here. Please always ask anyone before posting and triple check photos as well.”

She points to a section and you initial, stating you understand.

“You have a two week period here to see how you like it. You don’t have to stay if you do not want to. After that time, you will be issued a passport for Bangtania, a resident ID, and be included in our census. You will have dual citizenship for here and for your home country as well.”

“If you choose to leave within the 2 week window, it’s no charge. If you choose to leave after, you will have to fund your flight home yourself. We will pay for your boat ride back to the mainland, and from there you can negotiate work or if you have money saved just in case, you can fly out. Also, if you choose to stay, you can always fly out to visit friends and family, just remember the NDA is always in affect.”

You initialed again.

Vanessa led you through a few more sections of the contract, and you learned that a few of the girls on the island were nurses and so if you were sick or needed minor medical attention, they would help you. Everything else was pretty much provided to you, and all they asked was that they could use your skills in return. 

You weren’t surprised they knew you had skills with computers and answering phones, which made you a perfect candidate to work in the main house under Vanessa doing secretarial work for her best friend, Talia. It wouldn’t be a lot of work, you would have plenty of time to enjoy the beach and rest, and the work would be related to the giveaway, running the island, and other fun BTS related things, so you were excited.

Signing your last signature on the bottom of the last page, Vanessa took the document, notarized it, and put it away in a locked filing cabinet next to her desk.

“Now, if you’re ready, I’d love to give you a tour of the island and show you where you’ll be staying.”

After seeing the main areas that people hung out at, you went towards what looked like a restaurant, which was good because you were hungry. Vanessa parked the golf cart next to a few others, and she held the door open for you.

You almost fainted. Seated at the table right when you walked in was none other than the 7 boys that were the reason you lived. BTS. Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook were sat at the table, and as you looked around, you saw that in between them sat other girls, including mutuals you knew were living here. Hobi appeared from swinging doors that led to what you assumed was the kitchen, delivering plates of food from a platter as a few girls followed him as well with drinks.

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be shy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Vanessa laughed, taking in your shocked expression.

After eating, and sharing some conversation with Jin and Yoongi, you were ready for a nap. Jin was an exceptional cook, and you were full to the brim. Vanessa waved bye to everyone, a lingering hand on a certain male’s shoulder as she walked away, leading you back outside. As you sat back on the leather seat of the cart, she checked in with you.

“I’m definitely still in shock, but now I understand the NDA a lot more.” You chuckled as she drove you towards another house. It was just as big as the main house, as you heard several people call it, but the style was more relaxed and upon entering it, you realized it was because it was lived in. It was two stories, with a large open concept downstairs with a living room and kitchen, and rooms upstairs. You dragged your suitcase up the flight and Vanessa unlocked a room for you with a key before handing it to you.

“This is our newcomer guest room. We will have a room ready for you after your 2 weeks are up, if you decide to stay. For now, most people have said staying with me and Talia has been helpful if they had questions or needed anything, but any of the girls will help you, everyone is super nice.”

You looked around the room; it was spacious with a nice big bay window that allowed a decent amount of sunlight in.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Feel free to explore some more, and tomorrow we will have our weekly game night so you can meet everyone in a more relaxed setting and have fun. It’s our way of welcoming you to Bangtania.”

Vanessa let herself out of the room, closing the door softly. You wanted to explore, but at the moment the bed was calling to you. You lay down in the spot where the sun was pooling, curling yourself into the warmth and passed out. Jet Lag was a bitch.

When you finally rejoined the waking world, it was definitely not waking hours. The sun had set, and you shiver, the ocean breeze now too cool in your bedroom. You get up, throwing a MOTS tour hoodie on, and climb back in the bed, attempting to go back to sleep. Tossing and turning for about 15 minutes, sleep evades you. You must have caught up on all of your missing sleep with that ‘nap’ you took. Like you said, Jet lag is a bitch. Not wanting to continue to lay there restless, you slip out of the room and down the stairs.

You walk along the road, past other houses, finding yourself walking into sand. Sitting on the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves, you finally begin to feel tired. Rather than fall asleep on the beach, you make your way back to the house.

You head up the stairs and start down the hall, being as quiet as possible since it’s late and everyone is asleep. At least you assume they are all asleep, until you hear a very familiar voice coming from Vanessa’s room.

“Come here Princess, why are you acting this way?” You step closer to the door that is slightly ajar. You can’t believe what you are seeing, but you can’t stop watching either.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine & mrsparkjimin18 2020-2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding

Howard, of course, is all for this plan.

-

Howard Stark’s hours were unpredictable at best.  Sometimes he was awake for days on end working on a pet project, running on coffee, cigarettes, and whiskey until he simply ran out of steam and collapsed.  Sometimes he’d been overseas for too long and had not yet reset his internal clock, so that he was up all night and slept all day.  Sometimes he napped in strange places like a lazy cat.  Peggy had no idea what to expect when she rang his bell in the morning.

The first thing she heard was the barking, followed by a yelp from Mr. Jarvis and a cry of, “Anna!  Would you please contain this beast?”  Some scuffling and more barking followed, and then the door opened.  Whatever had just happened, it didn’t stop Mr. Jarvis from looking as tidy and composed as ever when he opened the door.

“Agent Carter, good morning,” he said cheerfully.  “What can we do for you today?”

Behind him, Anna Jarvis was kneeling on the floor in her dressing gown, cooing Hungarian endearments to the animal Peggy assumed was called a ‘Bernese mountain dog’ not because it came from the Swiss Alps but because it was simply a mountain of dog.  Its tongue was lolling out and its eyes closed in bliss.

“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis,” said Peggy.  “I was wondering if Howard were out of bed yet.”

“He’s in the backyard, nursing a hangover by the swimming pool,” said Mr. Jarvis.  “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

Peggy stepped inside and nodded to Anna and the dog.  “Good morning, Anna.  Zoltan.”

“Lovely to see you, Peggy,” Anna said, fondling the dog’s red and black ears.  “Sorry I’m not dressed.  I just have to get this fellow his breakfast.”

“It’s quite all right,” Peggy assured her.  “I don’t know how long I’m likely to be here, anyway.”

Behind the house, Howard was sprawled across a chaise under the canopy, wearing his brocade bathrobe, a pair of sunglasses, and probably nothing else.  Jarvis picked up a discarded newspaper and laid it discreetly over his employer’s lap before touching his shoulder to wake him.  “Mr. Stark?”

“Huh?” Howard twitched.

“Agent Carter is here.”

“Oh.”  Howard’s head tilted back again.  “I guess there’s no chance of telling her to come back later?”

“I don’t do later, Howard,” said Peggy.  Jarvis pulled up a chair for her, and she sat down across from Howard.  “I need a favour… in fact, Daniel and I both need a favour.”

“Is this the part where you remind me again that you kept my ass out of jail?” he asked.

“It is.”

“All right.”  Howard made an effort to sit up and look slightly more presentable – at least as much as a man could when there was only yesterday’s Examiner to preserve his modesty.  “What’s going on?”

Peggy had spent a good deal of time in her bath the previous evening thinking over exactly how she was going to present this idea.  “I’m sure you remember the time you had me steal back a vial of Steve Roger’s blood for you under the pretense that it was a superweapon.”

“Technically, it could be, in the wrong hands,” said Howard.  “But I definitely remember where you hit me.  Did you find it?” he asked, peering over his sunglasses with bloodshot eyes.

Howard did not know that Peggy had thrown the vial in the East River, and she was not about to tell him.  “No.  But before I tell you what I did find, I need you to assure me of your honourable intentions.  If some piece of Captain Rogers or his property were to turn up, what would you do about it?”

“Depends on what it is,” said Howard, “but if it were his body I’d throw him the hero’s funeral he deserves, and if it’s the shield I’d build him a monument out of it.”

Peggy leaned closer.  “You swear?” she asked.

“Cross my heart,” he said.  “What have you found?”

“A set of coordinates.  Seventy-four, forty-seven, thirty-five.  Ninety-five, twenty-five, three.”

She could almost see the gears in Howard’s head turning as he placed them.  “That’s… that’s further north than we ever looked… way up in the sea ice.”  He started to get up, then grabbed at his newspaper.  Peggy politely turned her head while he fixed his robe.  “I’ve got a map here somewhere…”

“I know,” she said, getting up to follow him inside.  “I already looked.”

In the library, the atlas Peggy had used was still sitting out on a table.  Howard quickly found the same page, and the same point.  “Cornwallis Island.”

“Daniel and I aren’t sure the tip is trustworthy,” Peggy explained, “so we need this to be discreet, no taxpayer money.  I’m on medical leave for the occasion.”

“Of course.  Not a word,” said Howard.  “Just you and me and a few of the locals to carry stuff.  There might not be anything visible on the surface anymore.”

“No?” Peggy asked.  “Our source described the crash in some detail, as if they were there when it happened, and seemed to think there would still be parts of the plane caught on the rocks of the island.”

“Yeah, but sea ice isn’t static,” Howard said.  “It moves around, and snow builds up and doesn’t melt.  If the wreck’s in the ice it’ll be torn apart, very slowly, and will eventually melt out the bottom and fall onto the sea floor.  The ice up there isn’t transparent, either, it’s yards thick and full of cracks and bubbles.  We need a way to see what’s under it.”

“And you happen to have just the thing?” Peggy guessed.

Howard nodded eagerly.  “I’ve been working on it on and off for a while now… an ice-penetrating sonar.  The big problem was keeping the sound of the plane itself from interfering, but the last month or so I’ve actually had your buddy Dr. Wilkes up there troubleshooting on it.  He’s a great guy for acoustics.  His work on the vibration frequencies of the Zero Matter…”

“Is it ready for testing?”  After knowing him for nearly ten years, Peggy was an expert at gently encouraging Howard to stay on topic.

“Yes!  That’s why we moved it to my hangar in upstate New York,” Howard said.  “Closer to the ice, less shipping hassle than getting it to Alaska.  It’s installed on one of my planes there.”

“So we can simply fly it up to Canada and take a look,” said Peggy.  That would cut down on their search time enormously, if they didn’t have to trek across the ice for days on end.  “Wonderful.  But as I said, we can’t have any fanfare.  Absolute secrecy is best.”

Howard pouted.  “You don’t think I can keep a secret, Peg?” he asked.

“You do tend to get over-excited,” she said.  “And we know, by the way, that there are more of those Russian girls in the country, so you’re not even allowed to hint at it over drinks.  How soon can you be ready to go?”

“I can be ready to go right now,” Howard replied.  “It depends on if Jason’s got the thing ready in New York.  I’ll give him a call right away.”  He checked his watch.  “Yeah, he’ll be up by now.”

“I should hope so,” Peggy said.  “Dr. Wilkes tends to be far more regular in his hours than you.  But don’t tell him over the phone where we’re going,” she added.  “Treat it as just another test flight.  You never know who might be listening in.”

“You can count on me, Peg.  After all… you did keep my ass out of jail.”  Howard grinned at her.

“Thank you, Howard.”  She smiled back.  “I’ll head home and pack a bag.”  That wouldn’t take long.  Peggy knew how to travel light.

As she was heading back to the front door, she met Mr. Jarvis coming the other way.  “Agent Carter?” he said.  “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have a lot to do today,” she said.  “I can’t stay for tea.”

“I wasn’t about to ask you to, but I’ve just taken a phone call from Chief Sousa,” Mr. Jarvis said.  “He was unable to say why, but he would like you to stop by the SSR offices as soon as possible.”

He probably wanted to know how her conversation with Howard had gone, Peggy thought, though it was strange that he’d called rather than waiting for her to contact him.  “I’ll do so on my way home.  Thank you, Mr. Jarvis.  Give my best to Anna, would you?”

“I shall.  Will we see you again soon?”

“I certainly hope so,” Peggy said.

She probably could have done more to warn Howard how unlikely they were to find anything up there, Peggy thought as she drove back to the office, but for the moment it was probably best to let him ride the initial wave of enthusiasm.  The whole story could wait for their flight back to New York and the subsequent journey to the Northwest Territories.  Howard and Jason’s sonar, though… that was exactly what they needed!  If this were indeed some sort of trap, there was no way the Soviets would be expecting them to fly over at a height rather than hiking out from the island.  If there were something there, they’d be able to get at least an idea of it without so much as setting foot on the ice.  Then if it appeared dangerous, they could contact Daniel and ask for further suggestions.

“Afternoon, Rose,” said Peggy cheerfully as she entered the reception area.  Rose was sitting at her desk, tiredly watching a trio of midgets in matching sequined costumes perform an acrobatic routine.

Rose did not smile back.  “Oh, you got Mr. Auerbach’s message?” she said.

“I did,” Peggy nodded.  “He’s upstairs?”

“Yes.  So is Mr. Masters.”

Peggy’s spirits, which had been high on her drive over, sank straight through the floor.  It wasn’t that there was no reason for him to be here – Peggy could think of half a dozen things he might have decided to stick his unwelcome fingers into – it was that whatever he wanted was always at odds with whatever Peggy was trying to accomplish.  Daniel had rung her at Howard’s because he was trying to warn her.

She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and nodded.  “I’ll head right up.”

Peggy stepped into Daniel’s office with her head held high and determination in her step.  Daniel himself was not there.  Vernon Masters, however, was.  He was sitting in Daniel’s chair, where Peggy had sat for her interview with Lake as Agent Russel, waiting for her.

“Carter,” he said.

“Mr. Masters,” Peggy replied.

“Care to explain how another Soviet spy got into the country undetected and killed one of our most important political prisoners while you were a dozen feet away?”

He certainly did get straight to the point, didn’t he?  “It is my understanding that Miss Lake drilled through the glass of the cell window and shot Dr. Zola using a police revolver with a home-made suppressor,” she replied.

“While you stood right next door and did nothing.”

“Our best information at the time suggested that Miss Lake was here for Underwood and Fenhoff,” said Peggy.  “I was acting on that.  We had no reason to think Dr. Zola was in any danger.”

“You sure didn’t try to protect him,” said Masters.

“We did our best to keep the entire prison secure,” Peggy said.  “Perhaps you ought to question the people in charge of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, rather than me.”

Masters sat up.  “I’m going to be straight with you, Carter,” he said.  “We sent an FBI agent to investigate your potential involvement in Underwood’s escape – he was drugged and robbed by a colleague of hers, who then went on to kill Zola right under your nose.  You understand why this doesn’t look good for you.”

“I do,” said Peggy, keeping her body language as neutral as possible.  Since Masters’ last visit she’d been telling herself not to worry about him because he had nothing on her… but now events were conspiring against her.  The situation he described could easily make Peggy look like a traitor to somebody sufficiently paranoid… or at least incompetent.  He couldn’t possibly have any real evidence, though, because if he did he’d be having her arrested.  His ‘case’, if it could be called that, must be entirely circumstantial.

“I’m going to have a full investigation look into your conduct, Carter,” said Masters.  “If you haven’t done anything, you have nothing to fear, but you’re suspended from duty as of now.”

“As it happens, I’m already on medical leave,” she said.  “Chief Sousa insisted I take time off to recover from the chemical Miss Lake attacked me with.  Apparently Dr. Mroczek in New York worries there might be permanent damage to my lungs.”

“From what you’ve said about these Russian girls you should be grateful she didn’t shoot you,” said Masters.  He stood up from Daniel’s chair.  “I’ll be checking in.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Peggy, wondering what he would think when she left the country… and how he would fit it into his personal conspiracy theory when she came back.

[alexandralyman]

project neverland

Inspired by Colin’s upcoming role on The Right Stuff, I wrote a little 1960s CS test pilot/early NASA AU one shot. I didn’t aim for historical accuracy with this one, it’s more about the feel of the era instead of a literal depiction of the Mercury 7 and their missions.

Summary: Test pilot Captain Killian Jones always liked to go too fast. When he gets asked to join the elite group Colonel David Nolan of NASA has formed to be the first men to fly into space it's all he ever wanted...until he meets his CO's daughter, the beautiful and headstrong Emma Nolan.

Read on ff.net here and on AO3 here

Killian Jones always liked to go too fast.

In fast cars.

In fast planes.

(with fast women)

The NASA shrinks said it was because he had to grow up too quickly, too young when his father finally took off for good and his absence sent Killian hurtling recklessly into adulthood too soon with only his older brother left to try to keep him tethered to Earth. They almost didn't clear him to join Project Neverland, the internal code name given to the mission when someone made a late night crack after one too many pots of coffee about throwing out all the charts and just taking the second star to the right to reach the moon, but he was a hell of a pilot and after rising star Captain Arthur Pendragon, given the call sign "King" because everyone expected him to lead the mission, literally crashed and burned out of training in the Excalibur prototype and actually broke the damn thing clear in half, Colonel David Nolan publicly decided to give Captain Killian "Hook" Jones a second chance to join the team and be the hero.

Alongside a more private warning for Killian to clean up his act if he really wanted to reach the stars.

Killian knew the man wasn't kidding, so he took it to heart and stopped drinking (hard liquor, at least), stopped sleeping around (he'd been given the call sign "Hook" for his ability to hook up with any woman he wanted, including a general's wife, the bold and brash Milah Gold), he cut his hair short and shaved twice a day to keep within NASA's strict grooming requirements for its elite group of test pilots, he wore a suit and tie and smiled politely for the photographers whenever he was told to, doing the whole dog and pony show for the press without a single word of complaint. He wanted to fly to the stars, wanted it more than anything, he wanted to go faster, higher, than any man had gone before and bring home honour and glory for the name Jones.

Dr. Hopper scribbled furiously in his little notebook during their mandatory sessions and went on and on about his clear "father issues" and his "tendency to overcompensate" while Killian tuned him out, thinking instead about the feel of the wind in his hair when he drove with the top down on his 'Vette, rock 'n' roll blaring on the radio and putting the pedal to the metal up and down the Florida coast, or the exhilaration of taking off in one of the sleek new jets, feeling the lift and drag of the wind under the wings as delicate and powerful as a lover's touch along his skin when he aimed straight for the clouds above and pierced the sky fast enough to break the sound barrier. He agreed with whatever the doc said every week just to get out his office, lighting up a cigarette as soon as the door closed and taking a deep inhale to deal with his nerves instead.

Killian was keeping to the straight and narrow as best he could, but he couldn't stop himself from driving way over the limit in the early morning when the roads around the base were clear and empty as far as the eye could see, or taking his boat out just before sunset after a long day of NASA eggheads telling him what he could and couldn't do and blowing off steam by opening up the throttle as far as it would go to ride the waves so fast that the hull barely touched the water. Giving up booze and unhappily married women were one thing, he'd already almost ruined his career more than once over both and he'd learned his lesson the hard way, but the bone-deep need within him to push just a little bit harder, go a little bit faster, always chasing something that lingered just beyond his reach, well, what NASA didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Captain Killian Jones did everything too fast, but when Miss Emma Nolan grabbed the collar of his leather aviator jacket and kissed the smirk right off his face he wanted nothing more than to take it slow for once, since the only thing more off-limits than a superior officer's wife was a superior officer's daughter and Colonel Nolan wasn't just Emma's father, he was Killian's CO, with the power to ground him for good if he knew that his princess had been sneaking out to meet Killian at the underground drag races and after-hours nightclubs in Cocoa Beach. She wore dangerously short miniskirts and pale, frosted lipstick, all the men assigned to Project Neverland were half in love with her and she was the cause of every grey hair on her mother's elegantly coiffed head. Colonel Nolan's illustrious career had taken the family all over, although not always together. Emma had been sent to live with relatives in Boston while her parents were overseas on a remote posting that didn't allow children, reuniting several years later and then taking assignments at several different bases across America until he was handpicked for the most coveted position of them all and the Nolans moved again to Florida.

Emma recited the long list of former addresses without looking at him, staring out at the horizon instead while she sat with her legs folded Indian-style on the beach blanket he kept in the trunk of his car.

"It must have been hard, moving around so much," he offered. Military life was tough on families and tougher on marriages, which was one of the reasons why it had been all too easy to fall into bed with Milah Gold, despite both the ring on her finger and her husband's rank and a bigger reason why he had never followed that track.

"Yeah," she agreed, letting the clean white sand run through her fingers. "If I wanted friends I had to make them quickly, and then as soon as you really got to know someone new orders would come in and either we'd be leaving in a week, or they were shipping out, and sometimes you didn't even get that much notice. Sometimes...sometimes someone you thought you were really close to would leave one night and just never come back."

She said in a way that Killian knew she was referring to someone in particular, someone who'd done just that, walked out of her life one night and broken her heart in the process. But before he could say anything she stood up and took off, sprinting away from the memory on those long legs that looked so fantastic in white go-go boots and that he privately thought would look even better wrapped around his hips instead. She headed straight for the ocean and came to a halt right at the water's edge, waves just licking her toes and lapping at her ankles before rolling back out into the sea. Her hesitance confused Killian at first, Emma was like him, always leaping before she looked, but then she peeled off her lime green two-piece and dropped both halves into the sand, plunging straight into the crashing surf as naked and carefree as any flower child.

Killian Jones was one of the seven best pilots in the entire country, his reflexes were literally off the charts...and yet it took him an embarrassingly long time to pick up his jaw from where it had dropped somewhere around his knees and reach for the knot in his own swim trunks. Turned out there was something that could get his heart beating faster than the sight of the sleek vessel he was slated to fly into space sitting in the hanger at Cape Canaveral, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't look up into the sky when the sun set and the stars appeared.

But a late night skinny dip at a secluded little cove aside, Killian did his damndest to be a gentleman to Emma Nolan, and it wasn't because it was rumoured that the sword her father had mounted to the wall in his office wasn't just ceremonial. It would be easy to fall into bed with Emma, easy for this thing between them to be nothing more than another meaningless fling, but maybe he had been listening more than he realized while Dr. Hopper droned on about how lost boys either grew up and became men, or just grew older and which did he want to be? So he checked his speed and drove much more carefully when she was in his car and didn't let his hands wander when they danced no matter how dark it was in the hole-in-the-wall bars far from the country clubs frequented by his fellow officers and their wives. He made sure to have her home at a reasonable hour afterwards, even though he had to park around the corner and she was going to climb the tree next to her bedroom window and sneak back in anyway.

They got caught one afternoon, not by Colonel Nolan (although there had been a couple of close calls in that regard) but by one of those Florida downpours that came without warning, a sudden and shocking deluge that plastered the clothes to their bodies and ruined Emma's bouffant in a heartbeat before Killian could get his jacket off to serve as a makeshift umbrella. She clung to him while he held it over their heads, cursing a blue streak that would make a sailor blush and her mother faint while he laughed and did his best to shield her with his body. Raindrops slid down her neck and lingered in the little dip of her collarbones when she tilted her head up to the sky, mapping a course on her skin that he longed to follow with his lips until he'd charted every square inch. For someone who was about to take off at speeds men could only dream of a few short years ago and touch the stars, everything he'd ever wanted and more, Killian wished for nothing more now than to make these quiet moments last, for the song to never end when they danced and for the rain to keep falling, to keep them grounded in the here and now.

"You're leaving soon," she said in barely more than a whisper, a statement instead of a question. Suddenly everything was moving too fast, the mission date was measured in days instead of years now and their time together was growing short. The rain stopped, the afternoon showers were heavy but they never lasted long and it ended as abruptly as if someone had turned off a spigot, leaving wet pavement steaming in the sun and nothing to hinder Emma's return to her own car, the cheerful little yellow thing her parents had bought her.

"Yes...but not a day will go by where I won't think of you."

Emma looked at him and he wondered if the dampness on her face was from the rain or from something else. Her lips quirked in a half-smile that made his chest ache.

"Good."

Killian watched while she walked away and got into her car, putting it in gear and driving off. Slowly, at first, until it started to pick up speed. He knew, intellectually, that it couldn't go nearly as fast as his own V8, but it didn't feel that way when she was driving away from him.

He stood completely still until she was gone.

...

The little beach house that he'd rented when he first arrived to join the program went unused, Killian had to cram in his flight hours to stay mission ready after falling behind thanks to a certain blonde distraction, and he was going out daily in the jet that had been nicknamed the Jolly Roger and staying on base at night with other members of the crew. It seemed that whatever he'd had with Emma was over completely, she used to come by on a regular basis to visit her father and once she'd left the colonel's office there were all sorts of storage closets and empty stairwells to hold a more clandestine meeting afterwards. They'd neck frantically against the wall until Killian had to tear himself away to return to the daily physicals and calisthenics and whatever else the brass had scheduled for him, with the waxy taste of Emma's lipstick lingering in his mouth for hours afterwards and his uniform rumpled. But now it was Mrs. Nolan who came to base instead, with her lacquered helmet of dark hair and impeccable manners she was the Jackie Kennedy of NASA, always with a smile and a gracious word for the men under her husband's command.

It would be much more colourful if she knew exactly what her free-spirited daughter had gotten up to with one of them, even though he hadn't crossed that line. They'd come close, too close, moving too fast, too soon, the way Killian did everything else in his life.

Perhaps breaking up before one of them inevitably got broken was for the best.

Life magazine devoted an entire issue to Project Neverland and the men carrying the hopes and dreams of the nation on their shoulders, with each member of the flight crew getting their own double page spread. Captain Graham "Huntsman" Humbert was unsmiling and stoic in his photograph, described as, "the serious, single-minded leader of the elite group and devoted husband to his wife Ruby, as stunning and statuesque as any high-fashion model" while Captain Will "Knave" Scarlet was, "the practical joker, unofficial jester and class clown and a newlywed to boot, to former school librarian Belle, as pretty as her name suggests."

Killian posed alone in his flight suit, with no sweet-faced wife in hat and gloves like the others to stand by his side he was, "the swinging bachelor with the rock 'n' roll attitude and the looks to match, with eyes even bluer than Paul Newman's fixed firmly on the prize."

They were all inundated with fan mail after that, everything from children's crayon masterpieces of themselves meeting little green aliens on the moon to letters from senior citizens who remembered Kitty Hawk and man's first flight, but Killian in particular received a lot of perfumed envelopes decorated with lipstick prints and marked SWAK. Infatuated schoolgirls wrote him mash notes that Scarlet stole and read aloud to the rest of the crew in a high-pitched squeal, suburban housewives offered home-cooked meals with themselves served for dessert, and a Playboy Playmate even sent a few photos too racy to publish with her phone number scrawled on the back.

"Have you rung up Miss November yet, Hook?" Scarlet asked with a wink and a nudge, his caterpillar eyebrows practically doing the Twist on his forehead at the prospect. "Maybe we should start calling you Hef instead."

"Knock it off, Knave," Killian replied around the cigarette in his mouth, trying to snatch the picture back. Scarlet was shorter than he was, but he kept dancing just out of his reach with that smug grin while he continued to make jokes about Killian trading his flight suit for a smoking jacket. Finally, Humbert intervened, smacking Scarlet in the back of the head with one hand and grabbing Miss November away from him with the other.

"Ow! Watch the goods, it's property of Uncle Sam now, you know."

Humbert rolled his eyes. "We all are, dummy, which is why Captain Jones here isn't going to risk catching the clap and getting grounded. Are you, Hook?"

Killian met his expectant look. "Sir, no sir," he said, giving a mock salute and taking the photo delicately between his fingers. He left them to their bickering and headed outside, where he lit another cigarette and then held Miss November over the little flame, bidding her a silent farewell as she turned to ash on the wind before sliding the Zippo back into his pocket. Maybe he would have given her a call, once upon a time, risked a venereal disease and a shot of penicillin in the ass just for the story alone. But Humbert was right, there was too much at stake now. They all had to stay squeaky clean, in more ways than one. He wasn't even supposed to smoke in public anymore, which was even more of a pain when he had to deal with the press. Thankfully access to the base was highly restricted, and the wide swath of tarmac was completely deserted save for him and the line of sleek jets parked in neat rows, under a clouded sky.

The clouds drifted and the moon appeared, just as she had to the ancient sailors who set off in search of riches across Homer's wine-dark sea of old. They'd plotted a course into the unknown with only the stars to guide them and he was about to do the same, on a ship of a different kind but a ship nonetheless, with titanium wings instead of canvas sails to carry them across an ink-black sky, navigate by the stars and then follow them back home.

It wasn't his empty cottage that Killian pictured when he thought of home now, closing his eyes and letting the cigarette burn out untouched, breathing in the clean night air instead and hearing the faint crash of the waves against the distant shore.

...

A decision was made to hold a party at the base a few days before they had to enter pre-mission quarantine, a full on soiree with politicians flown in from Washington to see for themselves where their constituents tax dollars had gone, four star generals, celebrities and the cream of Florida society, and as the guests of honour, the flight crew in full dress uniforms with their brand new commendations pinned over their hearts. Colonel Nolan would lead them in to the fanfare of a naval brass band, each man with his wife displayed proudly on his arm. As the only unmarried one, Killian would escort one of the single women who'd been invited so he wouldn't have to walk alone.

Emma Nolan.

She arrived with her parents, stepping out of the car in a red cocktail dress that matched her red lipstick and drew him straight to her like a beacon.

Ot a warning light.

Maybe it was both.

"Miss Nolan."

"Captain Jones."

He proffered his arm and she accepted, her gloved hand resting lightly on his sleeve. His eyesight was as keen as the rest of his senses and yet everyone else seemed to fade into nothing more than a blur in the background, as far removed as the Earth would be once they broke through the atmosphere and went where none had gone before. The only one he could see clearly as the flashbulbs popped and the band started to play was Emma.

They weren't seated together at the dinner, much to Killian's chagrin while he made polite small talk with the senator's wife on his left and tried not to let his gaze drift too much in her direction. When the floor was cleared for dancing he took a turn with Ruby and one with Belle (neatly evading the rather overzealous senator's wife, a tall redhead from Kansas) and even danced with Mrs. Nolan herself, feeling his back straighten even more under her scrutiny. Her husband might be the one wearing the silver stripes, but she had the bearing of a queen in her golden dress.

"You look lovely this evening, ma'am," Killian said, his posture still stiff and formal despite the modern bossa nova the band was currently playing.

"Thank you, Captain. At ease."

He did relax a fraction at that while her stern expression melted into a smile. Over her shoulder he caught a flash of red and saw that Emma was dancing with her father, on the next pass Mrs. Nolan saw them as well and her face softened even more.

"Part of me is glad he's not twenty years younger or he'd be the one leading this mission instead of overseeing it. As exciting as this all is, don't forget about those of us back down on the ground waiting for you to come back."

Humbert drifted by with Ruby, her arm wrapped tight around his neck and her cheek resting against his chest. The wedding ring on his hand shone under the lights, his fingers splayed across her slim back and looking like there was nowhere on Earth or beyond that he'd rather be.

"I'll bring them all back safe and sound, ma'am, I promise."

Mrs. Nolan's eyes were a lot like her daughter's, a deep gemstone green that reminded him of distant galaxies they'd only caught the faintest glimpse of from Earth. They fixed him in place for a long moment, making his step falter and lose the beat while everyone else continued to dance.

"Not just them, Killian. You come back safe and sound. That's an order."

She had no real authority over him, but as the song ended and she patted him affectionately on the cheek, Killian was tempted to salute her as neatly as he would a general. He settled for giving a respectful dip of his chin instead, wondering as she walked back to her family if maybe, perhaps, his relationship with Emma hadn't been nearly as secret as he thought it was.

"Yes ma'am," he whispered, even though she was too far away to hear.

A few (or several) champagne toasts later everyone was invited into the hanger to view the spacecraft itself up close. Killian hung back, he'd already seen it, after all, more times than he could count, and as tipsy politicians eagerly followed the NASA eggheads through the doors to gape and gawk at what had built in this little corner of the world for the glory of all mankind, he noticed a familiar woman in a red dress with a bottle of champagne dangling from her fingers, heading the other way.

He went after her instead.

"You know, if you mean to christen the vessel with that, love, it's actually that way."

"Hmm," Emma mused, her red lips pursing as she appeared to contemplate the thought. "It's for good luck, right?"

Killian took it from her and swigged right from the bottle, feeling the bubbles pop on his tongue. "For luck," he said, and he was lucky that it didn't break or tip over when he set it down, blindly thanks to the woman in his arms, her mouth hot under his and her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his jacket. She got it open just as he hefted her up in his arms, fingers splaying over his heart while her legs went around his waist and a shoe hit the floor with a thump. They were in a darkened conference room, the walls strewn with maps and schematics of the most modern undertaking ever dreamed while the most ancient and primal of needs clawed at his belly, and he carried her to the couch in the corner that had seen many a hastily-snatched catnap during the late nights of the Project, but never an assignation quite like this one. For all the optimism and hope that they all professed publicly, privately everyone knew that the mission was dangerous, and there was a more than infinitesimal chance that none of them would make it back. Humbert knew it, Scarlet, despite the juvenile sense of humour, knew it, Colonel Nolan knew it and Killian did as well. The fierce claim in Emma's kiss as he fumbled with his belt told him that she was more than aware of that grim possibility, the squeeze of her thighs around his hips was an anchor, one he would remember later once gravity faded and he was floating free. As dangerous as this was it was more than worth the risk, and when he crossed that final barrier it was like both braving the unknown and coming home in one fell swoop, his face pressed to her neck to muffle his groan and her nails digging into his shoulders. The little half-moons she left in his skin had faded by morning, when all of NASA was hung over except for Captain Killian Jones and Miss Emma Nolan had gone home with a pilfered bottle of champagne and without her girdle.

She still cut quite the figure in her dress, even if it was wrinkled just a tad.

They were each allowed to bring one small personal item with them on the mission, something Dr. Hopper had said was to remind them of whatever it was they held most dear. A photo of a loved one, perhaps, or a symbol of their faith, the choice was up to them. The shrink had nodded approvingly when Killian had shown him what he'd finally decided to bring in their last session, leaving his little notebook closed for once. It didn't weigh very much, it couldn't, since it cost a literal fortune for every pound of weight being sent into orbit, and tucked easily into the little zippered pocket on his flight suit set aside for the purpose.

It was therefore the most expensive engagement ring in all of history.

Maybe he was moving too fast, but when he caught sight of Emma on the other side of the glass, come with her mother and the wives to say their final goodbyes on the morning he was going to leave the Earth and take the second star to the right, he knew he'd finally found what he'd been chasing for so long.

[kerwritesthings]

South Of The Equator

Summary: Gestures of love are woven in the fabric of relationships, especially ones built around the priority of your love

Word Count: literally juuuuust shy of 5.8k

Warning: pining, love and fluff

Author Notes: Muse fell in love with this photo last week when Bre threw it out onto my dash, spit out stupid notes at midnight that night for it along with about 350ish words and then didn’t touch it until again yesterday evening where I proceeded to crank out about 5.8k in less than 24 hours. Oops?

This falls well later into the verse, like the latest I’ve taken it thus far. It just felt right to bring this into that part of the timeline with the premise and where the muse was taking this. Can be read as a standalone but diving into the verse and the masterlist would give a little bit more understanding.

It was not in the plans. Whatsoever. A whim. A lot of longing. A lot of missing connections. A lot of feeling that this was a sync you just wouldn’t be able to get. That scares the both of you, more than either of you will let on especially to the other. You both promise that this would be the longest stretch on this very last swing – something like 48 or 50 days depending on travel for both of you, that a somewhere between 12 and 14-hour plane ride at best for a long weekend made no sense. You’re in Bucharest when he starts the swing in Mexico. What was thought to be a few days off for him to come home to see you between the last Mexico show and the venture further south becomes non-existent, with surprise pop up concerts in both Costa Rica and Panama along with hoopla surrounding them on either side that the label drops last minute. You initially think you’d be able to make the last shows, but there was a potential work trip to Hong Kong hanging over your head, so you both agree not book anything.

Well, love makes you do some stupid and irresponsibly crazy things. When the Asia client pushes their timeline back, things change completely. Which is why you find yourself on the phone, trying to make arrangements while juggling 7 open browser tabs on your laptop at nearly 1am. This is what you do for each other. It’s been established. It’s been done for each other on numerous occasions throughout your relationship. But it’s never been something like this. This grand and involved.

“Up for a bit of a challenge?” you start. “What’s the actual schedule like between Buenos and Rio and Santiago?”

“Flip it around. Chile first. Then Buenos then Sao Paulo. Finish off in Rio,” Beatriz laughs. “Don’t book the wrong flight. Cause. This is where it’s going isn’t it? This bugger is so lucky to have you. He best appreciate this. He’s been whiny. More to Cez then me. Andrew too, but he trusts Cez more when it comes to you.”

“He’s not the only one,” you sigh. “Dee’s taken to sending me videos and photos of Tali every day before I call to bitch to her to try to ease my tension. We’ve done longer, when we first got together. This one though. We’re just not taking it well, either of us. It feels off. He can’t come to me, so I have to go to him.”

“There’s doubles now in Santiago, not just in Buenos and Rio. Only the one in Sao Paulo. Days off scattered through, but definitely some between the city jumps. Are you really going to try to do just a weekend down here?” she asks.

“Work remote if I can swing it. Then bank out on some time off. I’m due after the extra hours to lock in the Danish project and the haul to Bucharest for basically a 48-hour lookie loo from them with no commitments. Boss lady is great as long as my work gets done and I don’t pull the ask for ‘but my famous boyfriend’ very often, if at all,” you explain, poking away at the keys of your laptop.

“Ooh Denmark, so you going to get out for that one?” Beatriz questions. “Do you have a lam for this tour? Should we get you another?”

“I think I can, timing looks ok and I may be able to drag Shawn with me for once since it’s after all this hoopla,” you mutter, poking at Kayak and cursing. “I think I do, snag one just in case if it’s not too much trouble. It looks like Air Canada has a direct from Pearson to Santiago at 11 hours of flight time and an overnight red-eye. Bless it. No layovers. Less chance for him to even let on. Y’all can sneak me in on the flights between yeah?”

“Shawn is gonna shit you know this right?” she laughs. “I heard about your surprises you both have pulled on each other before, but this is something else. Duh girl, yes of course. He’d have you sit on his lap the whole flight if he had to, but we definitely have the room. Give me the flight info. I’ll make Cez book it. Do not even think about clicking that buy button that I know you’re hovering over.”

“Bea...” you begin.

“No, not hearing it. Cez blocked out travel budget for him to go home and you know that didn’t happen, so your flight there and then back with him at the end it is instead,” Beatriz interjects. “I’ll loop in C for sure. Maybe Andrew. Less folks who know the better, we need to keep this on lock down.”

“Beatriz, you’re the best. I owe you big time. I’m so glad you’re on this rag tag motley crew,” you thank her. “Let Cez know if he needs anything when he’s booking, if they don’t have it saved to just let me know.”

“Bottle of Bulleit and you finally spill the recipe for those kitchen sink bars the boys are always raving about and inhaling, we’ll call it even,” she deadpans. “But no really, I’m glad to help. As much as I tease that boy of yours, I’ve got a soft spot for him. We need to figure an epic reveal. It’s late. I’ll fire off a text to Cez and we’ll be on it tomorrow. Off with you. Night!”

You have a week between that call and your flight down to get all your things in order luckily. Work is understanding and accommodating, your boss practically sending out the out of office email for you after she hears your plans. He meanwhile has a few shows in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia ahead of him within that same time frame.

“There’s that face I adore,” you smile through FaceTime as you’re tucked in bed, two nights before you’re due to leave. “Hi you. How was the show? Where are you now?”

“Just out of the shower in the hotel and about to fall face first into bed, but I needed a dose of my pretty girl before I do,” he exhales, running a hand though his mess of wet curls. “Good, crowds down here are something else. Beyond the first time I swung through, on the last tour. And them singing back in perfect English still breaks my brain a little. Tired though. Looking forward to the break. Day break here, then like a half one off in Santiago before the last few shows. It’s so crazy to think we’re there already.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” you murmur. “You did it baby, an entire circle of the globe. I’m beyond proud of you.”

“As much as I love this, I’m ready for just me, you and our bed. At least for a week straight, if not a few of them,” he chuckles. “Remind me of how tired I am now when I start to say I’m twitchy or bored, ok?”

“If you say so,” you say sleepily. “Just remember, I get to drag you with me on some my work trips next. Denmark for sure. Hong Kong perhaps since that’s still a moving target. Maybe Prague. Wanna be a silly romantic tourist with you for a bit. Just me and you”

“Always me and you, sweetheart. Go get some sleep. You’ve got work in the morning,” he whispers. “We can talk more tomorrow, promise.”

“You sure?” you fight back a yawn, eyes starting to flutter. “Can you sing to me though? Please? I miss you. Be like you’re here.”

He starts humming at first, the eases into a slowed down, Shawn-esque version of Sam Smith’s Latch. You want to stay awake to hear the whole thing, but he sounds like he’s there singing it right into your ear while he’s got your back against his chest. It’s so pretty, easy and dream like that you drift off in moments. He watches you for a few minutes after he finishes the song, making sure you’re truly asleep. Plus, he just wants to feel like he’s next to you in bed.

“Goodnight and sleep well, baby,” he whispers before disconnecting from FaceTime, a small smile slipping across his lips.

“He still has no clue by the way, so you’ve done a bang-up job,” Cez explains as he rings you while you’re in the car on the way to Pearson. “You’re still running on time from what we checked so you’re good. We’ve got everything square. Bea will come snag you from the airport, you’ll have time to hit the hotel, she’ll have the extra room key for you so you can get some actual rest and then get ready. Figure we’ll grab you while he’s doing Q&A. Do you want to surprise him before the show? After?”

“During?” you laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest as the car makes its way down the 401. “Maximum effect. Con would be on my side too you know, epic footage.”

“Of course, you do,” he retorts. “I should have known. Don’t forget, I’m on your side too. I’m glad this worked. I know it’s been a long stretch. For the both of you. I’ve seen it wear on him, but he’s put up a good front minus a few nights where he ends up with me until he needs to get to sleep, just needing someone who understands to talk to.”

“I’m glad he has you, that we both have you. You are a gift, Cez, really,” you reply as the car slows to ease up to the terminal. “I’m just about to hop out. I’ll text you and Bea when I land in the morning, customs will probably take a bit to get through. Thank you again.”

“Fly safe, dear. Try to get some rest and we’ll see you tomorrow,” he responds.

Check in was easy, of course they went above and beyond on the flight. You text Cez and Bea a photo of a cookie from the lounge with your ticket telling them they did not need to and thanking them. Cez responds first.

Again, you know if he found out we flew you like in row 24 on a flight that long, he would pitch a fit. I’m not up for a Shawn fit this late into the last of the last legs of tour. Enjoy the space and the lay flat. Sunshine and that boy awaits you.

Beatriz chimes in next.

Label owes you and the pain in the arse, so enjoy it! Have one for me. I’ll be there for you tomorrow with bells on and a tea in hand. Cannot wait for this – so epic. You two are nauseatingly adorbs.

The flight wasn’t crowded thankfully and the room to stretch fully is a welcome bonus. You are able to wind down a lot easier than expected and get a decent amount of sleep especially given it was on a flight, lay flat or not. Despite an extra circle, you land only a few minutes past your initial arrival time, make it through customs quickly and thankfully your luggage is waiting for you once you’re done.

“There she is,” Beatriz calls out as you head out to the open concourse. “And in one piece too with all your bits and bobbles. Good, the boss won’t be angry. And as promised, your tea!”

“Which one?” you chuckle, snagging the iced chai before hugging her.

“I can handle Cez, your man though,” she rolls her eyes as you walk out to the sprinter van. “He tried you last night when we were coming back from dinner, couldn’t get through even though we all told him it was late. He got all sad puppy. You were just about taking off, so it made sense. If he only knew what today is bringing him. I’ll drop you at the hotel, sleep, shower, eat, do whatever. I’ll be round to grab you about 4.”

As soon as you step into his room, you are overwhelmed just by the sheer sense of being back in his space again, despite him not even being there at the moment. You drop your suitcase, strip and crawl immediately into his still unmade bed to surround yourself in the smell of him. Setting your alarm before you drift off, you curl yourself around his pillow and exhale. Only a few more hours and you’ll be able to wrap your arms around him instead of a goose down that carries whiffs of his scent. A deep breath, an inhale you hold just for a moment before letting it go carefully and you’re drifting away.

You wake shortly before the alarm and to a couple texts from Shawn.

Miss you pretty girl. Almost there.

FaceTime after the show tonight? Even just for a few, I can tuck you in from here again like the other night.

Saw this on the drive over before, couldn’t help but think of you.

It was a slightly angled photo out the car window, but it was of a park with a fountain surrounded by high bushes littered with flowers.

I wish I could press you into those blooms and kiss you. Would make such a pretty picture. Love you baby.

You will yourself not to cry. That sweet, sentimental boy of yours. You’ll have time, you need to make that happen tomorrow.

I miss you sweetheart, so much. Yes to tonight, I’d love a tuck in from you. We’re so close. Love you <3

A shower, some primping and a good battle with both your blow dryer and your travel steamer later, you’re finally ready to head out.

“He’s a lucky bastard this one,” Beatriz whistles before handing over your new credential as you slide the van door closed behind you. “Don’t you have any sisters you can send my way? Cousins?”

“Sorry Bea, only child,” you laugh, as the van pulls away. “Cousins are stateside and not your type.”

“He was happy to hear from you before. Stopped in the middle of sound check to look at his phone. Got all stupid smiley and googly eyed,” she rolls her eyes. “He’s so gone on you if it wasn’t so bloody sweet to see him so gushy, it would make me ill.”

“Just wait ‘till later. I should apologize now,” you explain.

“Why there’s no plans for post-show, dearie. We knew better,” she giggles. “Shawn’s not going to want to share.”

You can’t help but smile as you pass the park he sent you the photo of earlier, it’s prettier than his shot let on. You definitely have to go there tomorrow. From that point, it’s a windy way through the streets of Santiago to the arena.

“He should just be wrapping up,” Beatriz prattles, looking at her watch as you make your way through the bowels of the building. “Which is good, I can sneak you into Cez’s room without him sniffing about. You, he, Jake and Con still need to hash everything out yeah?”

“Kind of. It’s the fine tuning of details at this point,” you say, flipping the pass around in your hands before slipping it around your neck as you walk, still not fully grasping you’re going to see him as soon as you are. “It’s a matter of where to go in the pit during his walk up to stage where I won’t be spotted too easily, but also not be in the way of everything either. I think it’ll work, totally up to Jake though. Worse case, we’ll do it just before rally or he hits the stage. Better visuals, and Con will agree with me, but it’s Jake and Cez who have final call.”

“It’s brilliant, all of it. However, here is where I leave you for now,” Beatriz nudges you through the door into Cez’s makeshift office for the next two days. “Need to make sure the sound techs have everything. Fridge is stocked, so steal what you need. He should be back in a few. They’re due to be walking your man now. His room isn’t far, so stay put. I’ll let C know you’re here. Toodles!”

Shortly after you settle in on the couch, engrossing yourself in your inbox, you feel someone settle down next to you.

“Thank god you’re here, I cannot do the sad Shawn shit anymore,” Connor sighs, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “I love him like a brother but damn, this go has been a beast when he’s feeling it like that.”

“Hi Connor, I’ve missed you too Connor, it’s good to see you Connor,” you roll your eyes, pushing his arm off you with a poke.

“Yeah yeah, all that too,” he smiles, sliding his arm back into place and kissing your cheek. “It’s good to have you here, all that aside. Despite all that, missed you around these parts.”

“Considering Central America took away our long weekend together, with no warning. It’s just been a hard go this swing. For both of us. May just be the wear and tear of a tour this long finally hitting. Even with as much as we’ve made it a priority to stay more connected and grounded. You guys are lucky it’s the end and it didn’t happen in like the middle of Europe, or the US leg. Though that would have been easier to get to than an almost 11-hour flight,” you fight out.

“You’re too good for him you know?” he teases. “Remember, he has friends if you ever need to bail.”

“Not any of y’all that’s for sure. No way. And, it’s the other way around, Con,” you reply, poking at his knee. “So, you’ve seen the setup, what’s going to make the most sense?”

“We’re going to do whatever you want, missus,” Jake chimes in as the door shuts behind him and Cez. “Only thing I require is a hug.”

“I think that can be arranged,” you say happily, ducking around Connor to get to Jake. “Con, stop being in the way.”

“Thank you,” you murmur to Jake as he pulls you into an embrace.

“We should be thanking you,” he whispers hugging you tightly. “And seriously. We’ll make it all happen. Kid needs this as much as you do.”

You pull away, smiling. “Ok guys so here’s what I’m thinking. Let’s surprise him on the walk out.”

The details come together quickly as well as easily. You’re happy, the team is comfortable with it all. It also helps he’s not expecting a thing. Everyone’s on board.

“So,” Cez begins, rolling a bottle of water around in his hands as everyone else filters out. “Hop a flight on a whim in the states or Canada is one thing. Cross the pond, a little more effort, but doable. This is something else entirely, even for the two of you.”

“I don’t know why this one is so different; I wish I knew; believe me I do. It would have saved me an 11-hour flight,” you utter. “It’s not like we’ve not done it before. We got through this, worse even, when he went out on last leg of the last tour and I had no leverage to take time off to come out other than that last show. We were only together a little bit at that point.”

Cez smiles his all-knowing smile, looking down at your hands playing with your credential. “I think you do, somewhere in there. I think he does too, well I know he does.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask inquisitively. “We’re good, really good. Minus this blip and it’s just us being a little more emotionally wound together. More in the groove than we’ve ever been. It’s been great, actually.”

He smiles yet again, making you wonder even more, and picks up his hand pointing to a certain finger.

“No,” you shake your head.

He nods, still smiling. “You’re practically there already.  We were honestly all surprised it didn’t happen before tour, or at break. Especially after Japan. I knew though not the holidays, it’s too cliché and not him, or you. He’s asked me a few things, more recently. Won’t give away more than that, but it kind of all makes sense. At least to me.”

“I just. Like. Shit Cez,” you sigh, looking down at the lam in your hands. “We’ve talked about it before, couple times. We want it, both of us. He’s it for me, and vice versa. He knows I’ll say yes. I’ve told him as much. But I’m also not that girl that needs the pretty on her hand to know where we stand in our relationship. He’s also not that overly possessive man who needs to prove he’s got me like that to the world, even in his crazy whirlwind of a life.”

“I think it’s both of you really ready for what’s next and this just all happens to be in the way right now. But, you’re here now, which not only is he going to be over the moon about, the rest of us are pretty happy as well. Not just because he’ll be in better spirits, it’s because we love you just as much too,” he states plainly. “You’re as much a part of this, a part of the family. I’m personally glad you’re here for these last few. This run’s been special, you should be here for the end of it.”

“Do not make me ruin my makeup, damnit,” you half laugh, half bite back a sob. “I’m so glad he has you, not just on the road, but in general. I know how much he loves you. I do, too.”

His phone pings rapidly.

“Ten-minute warning for fetching him. Let’s go get you out and set. Phil’s on you until Jake walks out with Shawn,” he states, reaching for his headset in one hand, for you with his other.

You carefully walk down the back hallway towards the stage together. Jake and Phil meet you at the back corner of the build out. Jake hands you off a fresh pair of earplugs.

“You’re going to need these,” he reminds you. “It’s his usual walk, so he won’t expect a thing. Especially seeing Phil at that junction of the barricade, once Phil gets the signal from me that we’re going, he’ll shift behind you so Shawn can spot you.”

You throw him a thumbs up as you wedge the plugs into place. Phil takes your arm in his, his other hand patting your forearm.

“Let’s go surprise him,” he says, leading you out to the pit.

For some reason, probably your conversation with Cez if you’re being honest with yourself, has your stomach set off with butterflies. You’ve not been like this since the early days of your relationship. Excited, always. Happy, without a doubt. Nervous though? No. You try to not shift about, instead closing your eyes to take in the moment. The crowd is loud, you can smell the remnants of the smoke machine test earlier lingering in the air.

Phil taps your shoulder, sliding you into place in front of him.

“He’s walking,” he mouths with a wink.

The house lights come down and the stage lights start to just warm. You exhale and lean back onto Phil slightly, whose hands come to rest comfortably on your shoulders. The opening video starts to roll and the lights hit the pit walk so you know you’ve got about 30 seconds at best before he comes into view. Phil pushes you forward just a touch just as you spot Jake and Shawn with Connor shuffling just behind to get the right angle for the surprise.

He’s in his pre-show zone, not taking in much around him. Jake nudges him though and his eyes shoot up. Shawn looks over towards you, taking a moment for things to register, and when it does his smile is as bright as you’ve seen. His eyes grow wide, he turns to Jake, who nods with a grin and then Shawn takes off in a sprint.

“Surprise!” you try to scream, but he’s already got you in his hold lifting you to swing you around.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, please,” he utters in your ear before pulling you closer, finally getting you back on your feet.

You slide your hands from his shoulders, one to the nape of his neck fingering the wispy curls there, the other to nudge his one in-ear out.

“Not a dream, baby. Very much here, very much real. You got me for the rest of the run, love,” you say directly into his ear. “Go be my Rockstar. I’ll watch side stage, be there waiting for you after the show.”

You pop his in-ear back into place then cup his cheek, watching his eyes roll back slightly.

“I love you so damn much,” he yells before kissing you soundly. “I am so lucky you’re mine.”

Shawn rubs his nose against yours before sneaking in another kiss, then runs up to the stage with Jake on his heels. Jake winks as he passes, throwing a double thumbs up before Phil takes you towards the back staircase so you can set up on the rolling case you know is waiting for you.

The show is electric as always, but he’s got a special energy tonight. You can’t help but feel a bit happy as to probably being the reason why. He’s smiling, sweaty and disheveled, running back towards you in the break before the encore.

“You’re a mess,” you quip with a smile, handing him a bottle of water and a towel.

“Never minded that before,” he retorts back, running a hand through the mess of his hair after wiping his face down with the towel.

“Not the place Shawn Peter,” you say, shooing him away. “Go finish, I’m not going anywhere.”

He drops the water bottle down on the case next to you, stealing another kiss before bopping his way back out.

You hop off the case and head out towards the curtain line to get a better view. His encore covers have been something else this tour. He’s been leaning hard into Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’ and it’s a stunner, especially just him and the piano.

“I had a surprise tonight delivered to me just before the show, a really amazing one actually,” he begins as he settles into playing the piano. “So, if you all don’t mind, I’m going to play something a little special before I get into my last two songs.”

Once he hits the first few chords, your jaw drops immediately.

“You lift my heart up when the rest of me is down. You, you enchant me, even when you're not around. If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down. I'm latching on babe now I know what I have found,” he sings and you can’t help but inch closer to the edge as far as you can go without being spotted or seen. “I feel we're close enough, I wanna lock in your love. I think we're close enough, could I lock in your love, baby? Now I got you in my space, I won't let go of you. Got you shackled in my embrace; I'm latching on to you.”

You didn’t expect this the other night, so you very much don’t expect it tonight. You can’t do anything but watch him, enamored and amazed. He sounds breathtaking. The whole song just gives you goosebumps, especially in a setting like this. Damn this boy.

“Thanks for indulging me tonight, Santiago,” he says and you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks, even from there. He immediately segues into Free Fallin’ to get his encore moving, before finishing completely with If I Can’t Have You.

He’s got a hold of your hands the moment he’s out of sight of the audience.

“Did you like it?” he asks, dipping his head down to kiss you, feather soft.

“Love it, love you,” you reply, dusting kisses across his knuckles. “Come on, let’s get you back there before they start to think we’re defiling a case on the stage.”

He chuckles, tangling his fingers deeper with yours before leading you towards his dressing room. As you hit the main hallway, most of the band and the crew are waiting there and start whooping and clapping the moment the two of you come into view.

“What the hell?” you question, as he holds your hand tighter trying to make your way down the hall. He shakes his head, cheeks pink as he bites his bottom lip.

“Hold up,” Jake stops you both just before the doorway to his room, arms crossing against his chest and a shit eating grin spread across his face. “Believe you owe this lady a thank you.”

“Hello, the song, on stage, the encore? In front of the whole damn audience,” he retorts, running his free hand through his curls before tugging you towards him and the door without getting you covered in post-show sweat. “Now I’d like to shower, get the heck out of here so I can spend some time with her. Without an audience.”

You can hear the snickers and wolf whistles, it’s your turn to flush. Jake shakes his head no.

“You know what you assholes, fine,” Shawn sighs before rolling his eyes.

“Don’t even with me kid,” Jake smirks.

“I know what you’re…” he trails off but tugs your hand, so you stand closer to him. “Shit. C’mere baby.”

The next thing you know he’s cupping your neck and kissing the breath straight out of you. Your hands fly up, one gripping his shoulder the other tangling in his hair. He pulls away first, just as breathless as you’re feeling.

“You all happy now? Can I please get into my room?” he asks.

Jake moves aside, patting him on the shoulder. He snatches your hand and tugs you into the room, shutting and locking the door behind you both.

“Do I even want to know?” you say, leaning back against the door as he toes off his boots.

“Grander the gesture, bigger the thank you,” he replies, stripping off his button down next, his tank and jeans follow. “They like to tease, you know this. Especially when you and I start getting the way we do. It’s all in good fun, but not when you pull the most epic surprise and I’ve run through a whole damn show. I haven’t seen you in how long and I still haven’t really held you or loved on you the way I want to.”

“Then you best go shower, sweetheart,” you tease. “You know feeling is mutual.”

He darts over to kiss you again, “Be right back.”

He’s quick, which you appreciate, and even more that he’s just in a pair of threadbare, low slung navy sweats when he heads back out to you. He drops the towel in his hand to snag yours, pulling you towards the couch. He flops down first and pulls you immediately down on top of him. He kisses your forehead before scooting you down so your head can rest comfortably on his shoulder. He smells fresh, clean, warm, like him and like home.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you slowly and thoroughly. “Fuck, how I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here. I’m so damn happy that you’re here. You’re amazing you know that? How did you pull this off?”

“Once Hong Kong pushed timeline, I had a little wiggle room, but I wouldn’t be sure until Denmark signed off,” you explain, finger carefully tracing back and forth against his collarbone and shoulder. “I didn’t want to get either of our hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. Then like a week and a half ago? That night we just couldn’t get timing together I think you were in Panama still. I was up and cranky at stupid o’clock, said screw it. I knew I had some comp time due, had a little vacation time left, plus after Bucharest debacle on their part, they kind of owe me to boot. Called Bea, looped in Cez and voila.”

“You’re making it harder to even come remotely close to do for you what you do for me,” he presses his lips against your hair. “I’m so grateful for you.”

“There’s not a tally, sweetheart. We do for each other, you know this,” you remind him. “You and me, always right?”

There’s a knock on the door and jingling of keys, you go to move but Shawn holds you to him.

“Just gonna be C, we’re not doing anything. You stay put,” he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles your ear.  

“Sorry kids, time to get a move on,” Cez calls out from the doorway. “Can I come in? Are you at least PG?”

“It’s cuddling man, that’s all,” Shawn barks out with a laugh as you bury your head into his neck.

“You’ve got about 10 minutes to get yourselves together before the sprinter gets here,” he reminds you both. “We’ve got a curfew in the building overall, so we can’t be late on this one.”

“I’ll make sure he’s ready,” you reply, trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Let’s go, you. Need to get your stuff together. Can’t be late.”

“Listen to your girl, Shawn,” Cez remarks. “She’s right. Plus, you’ll be free of us and interruptions once you’re back at the hotel. Late call tomorrow since we’re already set here. I’m leaving the door unlocked and open so no funny bunny ok?”

“Thanks, Cez. See you in a few,” you say, trying to nudge at Shawn.

“You know that means we can go to that park in the morning,” you whisper, kissing his chin once Cez is back out in the hallway. “Upsy daisy dear.”

He sighs dramatically, but with a smile, “Only if you promise a little morning love, breakfast in bed and that park in the morning.”

“You drive such a hard bargain,” you giggle. “It’s a deal.”

He kisses you quickly and loudly before sitting up with you still in his hold, “I can’t wait to get you alone alone tonight.”

“Which would be sooner if you got a move on,” you roll your eyes, poking at his chest while his hands palm you ass.

He stops for a moment though, looks at you softly while not taking his eyes off of you.

“Love you pretty girl,” he declares, hand pushing stray strands of your hair away from your cheek, before holding it in his palm.

“Love you too, Shawn.”  

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 3: Dinner Date

Summary: The night you dreaded the most is here. The date night with Bucky.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, mobster AU, mafia

Word Count: 3485

A/N: I’m soooo excited that you guys like it so far! Let me know what you thought of this chapter, and what you’d like to see happen next. Love y’all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Mastelist

< Previous Chapter 

To say you were nervous would be an understatement of the fucking century. You wanted to leave the city and never come back, but you knew that it wasn’t an option. First, you didn’t have enough money to build a new life somewhere far away from here, and secondly, you definitely didn’t have the courage to do so. Your whole life was here, in New York, and you didn’t want to give it up just because an asshole decided to bully you into having dinner with him.

Nat was furious, to say the least. She was planning a murder into great detail, and it was only then that you let yourself relax a little. She was telling you about a certain man being run through a meat grinder, and you had to laugh. Your best friend was a psychopath, and it was not up to debate. And you thought if you could be best friends with someone like her, you could definitely make it through one dinner.

Friday went on too quickly for your own good. Usually, your hours at work would tick slowly, and you’d be going little nuts before you could go home. But not on this Friday. Whenever you looked at the clock, it was always an hour or more later, and you prayed to whoever was listening to just stop the time so that you didn’t have to face Bucky.

By the time your workweek ended, a message had appeared on your screen. You hoped Nat was texting you to bring her some vodka for the weekend, but when you read the message, all blood rushed out of your face.

B: Wear something nice

Just like that, nothing more and nothing less. You so wanted to go make-up-less, in your old PJs just to see his pissed-off expression, but after last time, and the way he let one of his men hold you down as if you were a fucking criminal, you didn’t know if you had the nerve to face him like that again. What also pissed you about the message was the fact he simply texted you a command, no please, no sorry, nothing, and he didn’t even sign the message. For all, you knew it could be a wrong number.

You decided to play a little, even if you knew there was no chance of your victory.

Y/N: Who dis?

You knew he’d make a scene, and you looked cautiously around the people on the street, in case he was standing/sitting there somewhere, watching you like a hawk.

B: I told you not to play your fucking games with me, doll!

Y/N: Oh! I almost forgot a mobster was threatening me to go out on a dinner with him. Still haven’t changed your mind, bad boy?

You knew you were on thin ice, but you just couldn’t help yourself. He was by far the most infuriating person you’ve ever had the chance to meet. And you hope tonight would be the last time you saw or heard from him. You saw the three dots in the left bottom twirling, but you decided that you had enough, at least until you came home. You put your phone off airplane mode, put on some good music, and walked home.

When you reached your apartment, it was already half-past five, and you knew you didn’t have that much time to get ready. So you threw your phone away and marched to the bathroom. Even though you knew it wasn’t technically a date, and that you definitely didn’t want it to be a date, you still wanted to look representable. Not for Bucky, God forbid, but for yourself. You washed your hair, shaved from head to toe (and only because you wanted to wear that short dress, nothing more, you told yourself), scrubbed your face clean of all the dirt it caught during the day and applied a new full-face on.

By the time you were done, it was quarter to 7, and your heart gave an involuntary jump. You wanted to stay at home, with a glass of wine and a good book, maybe even order a pizza if you were feeling like it, but no. You had to go out on a date with a freaking mobster. Just your luck. You went to check your phone for new messages and then horrified realised you still had on the plane-mode. You quickly turned it off and waited until your signal came on.

When it did, your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating in your hand from the vast number of messages you received. Sure, some were from your friends, few from your mother telling you all about her day and how you dad was acting like a jerk again, but most of them were from the unknown number you knew was Bucky’s.

17:01 B: That big mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day.

17:05 B: Don’t taunt me, Y/N.

17:20 B: You giving me the silent treatment now? You think that’s a good choice?

17:34 B: You’re not as smart as I thought you were. Ignoring me won’t get you anywhere.

17:57 B: I swear to God if you aren’t at your place by the time I get there, all hell will break loose, I can promise you that.

18:09 B: Y/N????

18:15 B: ARE YOU OK?

18:21 B: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

18:27 B: ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE, Y/N!!!!

18:30 B: I’m coming for you!!!

You stared, horrified at your phone. You knew he’d be there any minute now, but you texted him nevertheless, trying to put out the fire before he had the chance to stand face to face with you.

18:48 Y/N: I accidentally left my phone of airplane-mode. I’m fine, and I’m ready. Calm down, Romeo.

You were most definitely getting hurt for your snarky remarks, but this man brought something in you, and that something definitely wasn’t of the good sort. You could see the three dots again, but then they disappeared. Suddenly, you could hear the sound of the door buzzer, telling you someone was standing outside of the apartment building. You quickly grabbed your purse and ran out of the door.

You took your time ascending the stairs, first and foremost because you didn’t want to break your leg in those heels, and then also because you knew Bucky would be pissing himself in the car. When you finally stepped outside, the giant guy from the other day (Dax, Drogs, Dork? whatever) was waiting for you, with his arms crossed over his chest. You wanted to be polite, so you smiled at him a little and nodded your head, but the only reaction you got was a low growl and him grabbing your upper arm to lead you towards the black SUV. What a cliché!

“Get in,” the guy hollered and pretty much pushed you into the open door in the back. “Ouch! Are all gentlemen fucking dead, or what?” You hissed as you bumped your head at the entrance.

“Because you’re such a ladylike!” Somebody growled from inside the car, and you had to squint to see that it was Bucky, seated at the other side. “Whatever,” you muttered and slammed the door, turning away from him. How you wished to be anywhere else at that moment.

The ride to the restaurant (at least you hoped it would be a restaurant and that he wasn’t driving you to an abandoned slaughterhouse to have some fun with you (yeah, you had to idea what mobsters did for fun).  

When the car halted to a stop, everyone got out of the car, leaving you behind. Both the driver and the big guy stood next to Bucky, and you could see other men flying around the area, swooping it from anyone they didn’t like. But nobody gave a shit about you. You sat there with a smirk on your face. Maybe he’ll forget you were there in the first place and you could actually have the night you wanted. At the same time, you were thinking about how he could’ve had so many women when he didn’t even know how to treat one. Not that you wished he treated you like those girls, but still. He took you out for dinner, and he didn’t even make sure you actually got out of the car.

He seemed to have realised that it actually took to people to have this weird “date”, and he turned around, confused look on his face, shrugging his shoulders and spreading his arms as if to tell you what the hell is wrong with you.

You just cocked your head and got out of the car. “Waiting on an official invitation, princess?” Smirk plastered all over his face, and you wanted to do nothing more than to wipe it off. You smiled sweetly at him and patted his shoulder. “Oh, no, I was just waiting when or if you even noticed that the girl you took on dinner wasn’t even there. You know, waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop treating me like a pet, but,” you scoffed, “I guess I would want too much, huh?” You said, stepped around his security and went inside the restaurant.

Bucky stood there, wordlessly as if someone took his favourite toy. All the girls always jumped at the first opportunity to be with him, he could be a first-class asshole, and they would giggle and blush. He was so used to getting what he wanted, that when suddenly someone wasn’t acting according to the used pattern, he didn’t really know what to do.

The girl at the desk welcoming and seating the guest looks at you, waiting for you to tell her your name so she could see if you had a reservation.

“Barnes.” You say with a sweet smile, and her eyes go a little wide. But because she doesn’t see him anywhere, she frowns a little. “I know Mr Barnes, and I’m sorry Miss, but you don’t seem like him.”

Someone obviously entered in that moment and from the look of terror on her face, you don’t have to guess who it is. “You have a good eye, Linda, she really isn’t Mr Barnes. How about we skip the pleasantries, and you show us to my table?” She quickly nodded, and almost ran towards the most distant part of the restaurant, which was hidden behind a thing looking like a curtain. When she pushed the fabric away, you could see one table behind it, lit with candle lights. It would be romantic, hadn’t you know that he brought there probably every girl who slept with him. And if it wasn’t Bucky, of course.

You didn’t wait for him to tell you to go sit down. You couldn’t help yourself, but Bucky looked confused as hell ever since you got into his car. When you were both seated, another girl came in with two menus in her hand. But before she could distribute them, Bucky waved his hand to stop her. “No need. We know what we want. A bottle of your best Merlot, the beefsteak, medium, tell Mark that it’s for me, he’ll know what to do with it. And your spring salad for the lady.”

You clenched your jaw. You hated when people spoke for you. You weren’t a 5-year-old, and you definitely wouldn’t let someone as arrogant as Bucky to speak for you.

“Actually,” you said and look pointedly at Bucky, “I don’t drink red, so please, a glass of Chardonnay and sparkling water. And I sure as hell am not gonna eat a salad here. I heard your chef makes mean salmon?” You asked, and the girl just nodded, obviously flustered from the whole encounter. “Good, then a salmon with grilled vegetable for me, thank you.” The girl hurried away, and when she was behind the curtain, Bucky’s voice boomed at you.

“What the fuck was that?”

“What? Are you so insecure that you won’t even allow me to pick the food for myself? I’m a capable human being, well… at least very capable of making an order for myself. I’m not one of your easy girls, who’d agree with anything you said, or whatever they do. I’m my own person, Bucky, and if you don’t want me to get up right now, you better start treating me like that.”

Silence followed your little outburst. You could see Bucky fighting himself not to yell at you, his fists clenching and unclenching, just like his jaw. You weren’t feeling comfortable with him. He was so easily angered that you didn’t know what you could say, and what would be too much. Sure, you had the tendency to talk too much and be a sarcastic shit, overall, but that didn’t mean he could treat you as if you didn’t have a brain or any options. Whatever he thought, you still could walk out of there. Threats or not, you weren’t about to let him walk all over you.

“So, can we be civil now, or are you still gonna order me around and threaten me?” You asked with a small smirk playing on your lips.

“I haven’t threatened you yet, doll. And you sure as hell don’t want me to, trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you alright in that. Tell me about your day, mafia doing good?”

He squinted his eyes and cocked his head to the right. “Did you just ask me if mafia was doing good?” He asked, disbelief laced in his voice. The corners of your mouth were twitching, and you wanted to start laughing so bad. You were so nervous because of him that you said pretty much the first thing that came to your mind.

You could see him bite his lower lip, his jaw tensing a little, and a slight smile appeared on his face. When you let your mouth do what it needed, you burst out laughing, and Bucky soon joined you. It was the first relaxed thing the two of you did together (if we don’t count that particular night) and relief washed over you. So the guy can laugh, from time to time, you thought.

“Yeah, mafia doing great. How about the publishing house you’re working at, prospering and all?”

“I’d ask how you knew about where I worked, but I don’t even wanna know. Yeah, work’s good. I always imagined it a little differently, you know, the whole publishing process and I’m still not at the position I’ve always dreamt about, but I’m getting there.” You smiled at him.

“And what is it you want to do?”

You weren’t sure if he were really interested in what you were saying, but you decided to let it go. He asked, and that’s what counted. “I wanna be the person who says if and how something gets published. I wanna just read scripts and all that and decide whether it’s something our reader would enjoy or not. Pretty much my bosses position, you know? But I guess I’m doing the second-best thing. I now make sure that whatever gets out to the bookstores is the most polished version. It’s a pretty good job, and I really shouldn’t complain. Sorry, I’m rambling,” you realised and shut up.

People always told you that you talked too much sometimes, and you were aware of it, but when you were nervous, or you talked about something really close to your heart, you just couldn’t help it. And at that moment, you were both.

“Don’t apologise. I can see that it’s something you’re very passionate about. And I like the passionate side of you.” He winked at you, and you couldn’t help it and stuck your tongue at him. He laughed and shook your head at your childishness.

When the waitress came with the food, Bucky’s posture changed utterly. While it was just the two of you, and he was listening to you talk, he slouched a little, and his whole face relaxed. But when the girl walked through the curtain, he became the feared mafia boss again. And you hated to admit it to yourself, but you actually liked the previous, smirking, funny version of him, and this mobster guy was pissing you off a little. He was so self-assured and was letting everyone around him know, who the boss was.

The rest of the night undulated between these two positions or two faces of his, and you were now more intrigued than anything else. But after he paid for your dinner, only one face stayed plastered on him, and you felt a little disappointed.

He once again didn’t even wait on you as he was leaving the restaurant with his bodyguards, didn’t open the door for you, he was once again acting as if you were an object, forgetting about your presence. You were just one of the many girls, and he was showing you precisely what he thought of you.

“Peter, drive us to my apartment,” Bucky told the young guy who was driving, and you looked at him, confused.

“Don’t you wanna drop me off first?”

“Ha! You’re going with me, doll. The night’s still young, and we can have plenty of fun together.” He said slyly and touched your exposed knee. You swatted his hand away and looked at him, disgusted.

“I’m not going home with you, Bucky. Not a fucking chance. Peter? Could you drop me off at my apartment and then do whatever you want with your boss?” You leaned in closer to the front of the car and said to the driver.

“Who do you think you are? You do as I say!” Bucky now all but screamed.

“Watch yourself! I’m not your fucking pet, Barnes! If I don’t wanna go anywhere with you, then I’m not going. End of the story. I’m not gonna let an arrogant idiot tell me what I can and cannot do.” You took a deep breath and looked Bucky in the eye.

“Look, let’s just call it a night, and life? I mean, we both found out that this would never work, not that I didn’t know it before tonight, but still. I’m not a girl you can order around, and you’re not a guy I’m looking for, so let’s just part ways and never see each other again. Let’s not make this a pissing competition for you, you don’t have to prove yourself anything. I’m just too much myself, and you need someone unsure of themselves so that you could mould them into the person you want them to be.”

Bucky cleared his throat but kept looking at you, as if you fell out of the sky. Like you were an alien, speaking different language. Peter was watching him through the mirror, and Bucky just nodded at him, letting him know that he could drop you off first.

He was studying your face and your body even when you turned away from him and stared out of the window. You knew, or at least really really hoped that there was a decent human being under that pile of shit Bucky was presenting as himself. Peter stopped in front of your apartment building, and you thanked him silently. You turned to say goodbye to Bucky, but he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You patted his thigh nevertheless and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Learn to not be so tough all the time, Bucky. When you let go of this bad boy image, you’ll be an alright guy.”

You didn’t wait for his reaction and got out of the car, and rushed towards your door. Your heart was in your throat that you actually told him that, but calmed down when no-one followed you. This was interesting, to say the least, you thought to yourself, and hurried upstairs to tell Natasha all about the night.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky didn’t speak all the way to his villa, where he spent most of his time, especially when he didn’t plan on bringing a girl “home”. He owned the apartment solely for the reason to have something in the centre so that he didn’t have to drive too long before he could fuck them. But of the things going down with his business, and the place he called home was his villa.

He didn’t understand what was happening. He actually enjoyed talking to you, you had a brain, an ambition, and it was interesting to hear about your dreams and such. But then something would switch, and you wouldn’t give him a look, even. He wasn’t used to getting the silent treatment from anyone, and he both wanted to curse the night he met you, but at the same time wanted to get to know you better. He just didn’t know which side of him was winning.

/ Next Chapter > 

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[harrieatthemet]

From Los Angeles to Japan & Back

In which Harry breaks his promise. 

requested.

It’s quiet and uncomfortable. And he’s got no idea what he’s done. 

Sat on the white leather hotel lobby seat, his phone pressed snugly to the left side of his head, he practically feels himself wallowing in what might be the most unnerving silence he’s ever heard. 

“(Y/N),” and before he goes on he pauses for a minute, “y’still on?” 

An elongated exhale on the other end of the phone is all you’re willing to give him right now. But he takes it, and without complaint. 

It could be the jet lag that’s got him like this. There’s a heaviness weighing on his eyes, a tired ache rifling through his legs and an undeniable longing to stuff his face into a pillow. 

Japan to Los Angeles. Then Los Angeles to Japan. You wondered if he felt guilty cancelling his flight to London. What difference did another couple hours on a plane make? 

Apparently, a big difference. It meant another 12 hours in a stiff plane seat; another 12 hours riding the risk of getting stuck in front of another 11 year old who only found enjoyment by kicking the back of his seat. And flying home to London meant another 12 hours of no sleep. 

“M’exhausted,” he doesn't mean to gripe, but he still does, “never been so bloody spent in m’life, honest.” 

As for the past few minutes, upon informing you that he’d be retiring in Japan for the week, what started out as a phone call with two people had subsequently turned into one. Because even though you hadn’t hung up just yet, you hadn’t spoke a word. Exhaustion had gotten the best of him, or he was too oblivious to acknowledge the animosity on the other end of the call. 

“It’s always just a week.” 

He’s nearly half asleep by the time you speak up, a yawn crawling out of the back his throat as he snakes his way into his hotel room. There’s a brief delay to his response as he fumbles with the zipper on side of his right boot, kneeing the door shut before kicking the shoe aside. 

“Just a week, promise this time.” and his reassurance is delivered through another yawn, “Then I’ll be home.” 

Giving him the benefit of the doubt had, usually, always been easy. The logic behind his decisions was always explicitly clear to you. A couple days in Japan amidst the boisterous process of putting together an album would, typically, be no big ask. Down time is an essential, you understand. 

As of lately, there seems to be a thin line between something as simple as downtime and just utter negligence. The assurance of quickly passing weeks, just short 7 days, are always spot on. Days go in and out until you find yourself creeping up on the same kind of disappointment you’d experienced the week prior. 

This week had passed just like the others, and you’d made yourself comfortable in the corner spot of the sofa. With a blanket strewn on your lap, phone precociously placed atop your thigh, you waited for two calls. Both of which would be coming from one person. 

“Did I wake yeh, button?” 

The way you’re knuckles knead at the corners of your eyes are enough to confirm his assumption, to which he frowns as you ward off the remaining tired by blinking a few times. 

For a second, and really it’s only a second, the sound of his voice rang so clearly you thought he was stood right in front of you. Of course, the glow of your phone was telling you otherwise. 

“You’re still at the airport?” 

The scenery splayed out behind him, or what you can see of it from the screen of your phone, is lit well with sunlight. And the correlation, though slowed due to your lethargic state of mind, is enough to initiate a knot in the pit of your stomach. 

A very blatant look of guilt becomes an etched expression on your boyfriend’s face as he eyes you through the camera of his phone. He can tell you’ve figured out by now, sleepy or not, he isn’t at Heathrow. But still, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn't really know what to say, anyways. So in place of conversation, a galling silence has come to visit once more.

“Hate breaking promises,” he sighs, though he's broken them plenty of times before, “got a bit of recording t’tie up ‘nd m’gonna stay out in LA ‘till it’s wrapped up.” 

An abundance of frustration, seemingly 3 to 4 weeks of it, starts to settle as you try to scrape up any patience you may have. 

It’s asking a lot of yourself, in retrospect. It seemed as though all the compassion you had prior to this call had dissipated, and now you were trying not to angry cry over a FaceTime call. And the the longer you stared at Harry on the glass screen of an iPhone, the more you started to realize it’d been over a month since you'd even been in the same room. 

Now he’s going to stay to finish. The amount of time he’d be residing on the west coast was unsure; a return date was indefinite. 

“It’s early here,” and your thumb just barely grazes over the end button, “and m’tired so I’m gonna call it a night, ok?” 

“Five minutes,” he pleads, “wanna talk fo’ 5 more, m’missing y’voice.” 

The tone he’s taking with you, melodic and thick like honey, on any other day it’d be enough to have cave for just about any request. And he knows it, that’s why he did it. It was a last ditch attempt because even from 5,000 miles away he can feel the strain starting to wear heavy on the two of you. 

and the strain was quickly confirmed on your behalf, “bullshit.”

“’Scuse me?”

“It’s been over a month,” you breath, “I haven’t seen you in over a month.” 

The crease between his eyes comes alive as his eyebrows furrow, his eyes narrowing as he tries to read the expression on your face in the poor lighting in his living room. Not that the look on your face matters much anyways, he can tell you’re teetering on the edge just by the tone of your voice. 

in attempt to make light of a situation, he wiggles his eyebrows and follows with “Well y’seeing me right nooooow.”

“Harry maybe you should just stay there.” 

With an awkward shift in position, as he turns his body away from the driver just a seat ahead of him, his fingers tug at the top of his hoodie. It’s a slap in the face, nonetheless, and he finds that he has to exert himself a little bit not only to bite his tongue, but to keep himself from looking completely dumbfounded.

“Pretty shitty thing fo’ you t’say, no?” 

“Might’ve been two weeks ago,” you snap, “I think it makes the most sense, now.” 

“I think y’just being fucking rude, tha’s wha’ I think.” 

There’s a specific kind of dryness presenting itself on the back of his throat, becoming more and more prominent. t each time he wants to say something but forces himself to swallow his words. And he wishes you’d at least put a fucking light on, because he’s sick of having to squint to try and make out the features on your face. He knows you’re in the living room, knows there’s a lamp on the corner table by the sofa. 

“I’m not gonna get into it with you,” you digress, “you’d rather be in LA and that’s fine. M’not gonna force you to be somewhere you clearly don’t wanna be.” 

“Maybe I wanna get into it, (Y/N),” because now he’s disgruntled, “since y’don’t want me coming home.” 

For as long as your thumb has been innocently grazing over the small red hang up button on the bottom part of the screen, you haven’t quite had the balls to hit it yet. And neither has he, so the both of you just sit on the phone for a minute longer. 

He does wait, though. He waits for you to say something else. He waits to think of something else he could say. The phone calls have progressively gotten weirder, more taut. This by far is the worst one yet, and maybe that’s because the hostility coming off you is so sincere he can feel it from another country. 

“I’ve got work tomorrow so-”

“Like fucking hell you’ve got work.”