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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 1 year

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Rolling - Chapter Two

Just a hunt fic with lots of weirdly close brother moments.

Words: 3788

Relationship: Just the brothers being weirdly close, no wincest, no smut, but this definitely qualifies as weirdcest.

Warnings: Angst.

Read it on AO3 here

Read from the beginning here

“Beginner’s luck.” Dean said, trying not to grumble but hearing it in his own voice anyway.

They’d climbed into the Impala just before dawn, the trees silhouetted against the brightening sky , Dean up front, Sam in the back, their usual places, and passed out. When the sun finally rose up high enough to shine over the tops of the trees, and right through the windows of the car, the air, still crisp and crystal clear, offered no filtering or muting of its brilliance. Dean figured they’d gotten about three and a half hours of sleep, at most, which wasn’t nearly enough but was likely to be all he got until nightfall. There was a potential case in Chicago, which was a solid ten hour drive away.

As soon as he started moving around, Dean knew it was going to be a bad day, but when Sam said that he felt fine, and actually looked like he meant it, it just turned Dean’s mood from bad to worse. He knew that some people felt fine after the first time they took ecstasy, but he had never been that lucky. Coming down off the stuff made him sullen, irritable, and kicked his natural depressive tendencies into high gear. Sam seemed to sense it and was quiet and quick to get ready to go. He was waiting in the passenger seat when Dean came back from taking a piss against a tree.

Before they got on the highway, Sam pointed to a greasy looking truckstop diner, “Food?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Do you want to stop?” It came out harsh and kind of accusatory.

“Not really.” Sam said.

“Then why did you mention it?” But it wasn’t really a question and Sam was smart enough to not rise to the bait. Dean couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse.

Just before noon, Dean had to pull over. The car needed gas and they both had to pee. Sam went inside to return the restroom key to the clerk, and came back with a couple of plastic wrapped sandwiches. He didn’t say anything, just handed a sandwich to Dean and proceeded to unwrap his. He ate it in what seemed like four bites.

“Why don’t you let me drive for a while?”

He almost said no, but his stomach lurched with the first bite and he decided that eating and maybe taking a quick nap might do him some good.

“Fine.” and he traded places with his brother.

Out on the road again, Dean forced himself to eat but without the distraction of driving, his mind wouldn’t shut up. Sam didn’t know, because Dean hadn’t said anything at all about it, but when the shadow person had squeezed his heart, it had also squeezed a lot of thoughts and fears to the surface. Even through the serotonin bliss of the ecstasy, it had managed to drag some of the nastier spiders up from the depths of Dean’s mind. Sam resented him for dragging him back into all this crap, and only tolerated him because he didn’t have anyone else. Not that Dean would have let him go be with someone else, not his pathetic, clingy self. Although Sam was going to leave again, it was only a matter of time. The next chance that came along, the next excuse, and Dean would be left alone with nothing but the raw hollow ache inside him that nothing seemed to fill when he was out there on his own, just another piece of garbage drifting through the world.

His head slowly slid against the window as he fell asleep, but to him it felt like he just sank beneath the surface of a pool of negativity and self hate. The dream seemed to start immediately.

“I can’t stay here, Dean. I’m leaving.” and Sam, looking sad and lost, slung his backpack over one shoulder and walked out the door. Dean was right behind him, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Dean!” Sam screamed from somewhere far off.

Dean ran through an empty parking lot, down an alley, he was running along a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, through a forest and his side was cramping up, and his breath was coming in painful gasps.

“Dean!” and Sam’s voice, full of pain and fear, came from somewhere just out of sight.

Dean turned around and there was his brother, laying crumpled in the corner of a dirty warehouse, a werewolf looming over him. Dean didn’t hesitate, he put himself between Sam and the monster just as it brought its claws down. The real memory of claws tearing his flesh flickered through, and then he was the one on the floor, bleeding out, and it was Sam standing above him.

“Why did you do that? I can take care of myself, Dean.” and Sam slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out the door, more irritated this time than sad.

Dean ran out right after him and onto a college campus with students walking everywhere. Sam was way ahead of him. Dean couldn’t catch up, there were too many people in the way.

“Dean!” Sam screamed. But everyone looked like Sam from the back, same jacket, same backpack, and he couldn’t tell which direction the shout had come from.

“Dea…!!” Sam came flying out from behind a corner and slammed into a wall, a demon slowly advancing on him. Dean had Ruby’s knife in his hand and he charged at the black-eyed son of a bitch. But it easily caught him by his throat and squeezed. Dean’s windpipe collapsed and his neck snapped. The demon dropped him like a ragdoll and Dean fell at Sam’s feet.

“I need to go, Dean. You have to let me go.” Sam said before he turned and walked off.

Dean fell into darkness and landed in a graveyard. Sam was wearing a red suit, his eyes black as coal. As Dean approached, Sam started to swell, to stretch. His face distended, features bulging as he laughed, until his skin split open and a gigantic, red, horned Devil ripped out of him like he was a tear-away suit.

“NOOOOO!!!” Dean screamed and fell to his knees.

“Stop holding me back, Dean, I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.” Sam said defiantly as he stepped out from behind the Devil. “You need to let me go, this isn’t healthy. I’m not going to follow you around like a lovesick puppy anymore. I don’t need you.”

Dean couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, even though he wanted to shout, to be angry, to stop him, but his heart was ripping apart. Why couldn’t he stop him? He couldn’t stop him from leaving or from getting hurt, no matter what he did.

Sam leaned down into Dean’s face, his eyes glowing with some malevolent inner fire. “I don’t need you and I don’t want you, you’re angry and you’re corrupt and pathetic. Just a sick, sad, perverted, worthless nobody. I hate y…”

A shining blade cut through Sam’s neck, severing his head cleanly from his body.

“Dean.” Sam’s head mouthed his name.

His vision was blurring and his throat ached from holding in the scream that was trying to claw its way out of him. If he let it out, if he started screaming, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

“Dean, wake up!” Something grabbed him by the shoulder and started to shake him. His eyes snapped open and he gasped, feeling his heart pounding inside his chest.

Sam’s hand was on his shoulder, the grip a little hard, and he looked worried.

Dean breathed in sharply through his nose and then out through his mouth. His hand came up and rubbed his face. His cheeks were wet.

“Hey, are you okay? You were having a nightmare.”

“Yeah. Shit.” Dean tried to get his heart to calm the fuck down. He looked around and had to squint, the sun was shining brightly at a low enough angle the roof didn’t block it.

“Where are we?”

“I70, coming up on Triadelphia.”

“We’re halfway there?” Dean looked around again, trying to shake off the nightmare. They were pulled over to the side of a highway.

“It’s been about three hours since we switched. You just started shouting and thrashing around in your sleep.”

Dean wiped his face on his sleeve and sank back against the seat, breathing out heavily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Sam put the car in drive and checked his mirrors, “there’s an exit coming up with a few motels. We’re going to get a room for the night and get something real to eat. The thing in Chicago will still be there tomorrow. ” He started going and pulled back onto the road in a gap in traffic.

Dean was still trying to shake off the lingering strands of the nightmare so Sam got no argument as he took Exit 11 - 41 Dallas Pike and pulled into the Econo Lodge parking lot.

After they’d gotten settled and had taken showers, changed the clothes they’d been wearing for the last 36 hours, they found a local restaurant by a nearby truck stop called, eloquently enough, Ruttenbucks.

“Evening, fellas. I’m Chrissie. What can I get for ya?” The waitress asked. She looked to be in her thirties, with medium brown hair pulled into a high ponytail and a black tee shirt with the restaurant logo in orange over her heart. A gold wedding band with a modest diamond ring graced her left hand.

“I’ll have the Smokey Mountain Burger, medium, with fries instead of chips and a beer, whatever’s on tap. Thanks.” Dean said with a smile, the idea of a big old bacon cheeseburger making his stomach growl.

She nodded and looked at Sam.

“Uh, the pulled chicken salad with Balsamic vinaigrette.” His jaw clenched for just a second, like he could sense Dean’s eyes rolling, which they were. “And I’ll have a beer too.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.” Sam said with a polite smile as she started to walk away.

“Oh, hey, Chrissie?”

She turned back towards Dean.

“Can we also get an order of the grilled pierogies with onions?” He said with a hopeful smile.

“Of course!” She said and smiled back at him before heading to the bar to put in their order. Sam saw Dean’s eyes focus on her ass before turning back to him.

Dean never failed to be Dean, he thought

Unlike the club from the night before, Sam and Dean blended in a little too well here. Everything was wood paneling and mounted deer heads and antlers. The other customers were mostly burly, redneck-types in trucker caps, camo, plaid and well-worn denim. The place had a real salt-of-the-earth vibe.

When the food came, Dean ate with gusto, his appetite obviously bouncing back and it set Sam’s mind at ease a bit, even if watching his brother eat was somewhat embarrassing. Dean had grease smeared around his mouth, his lips glistening with it, and egg yolk was dripping from the corner of his mouth. Then there was the pornographic moaning, “Mmmmm! Oh god! Mmm.”

“Dude.” Sam said.

“What?” Dean asked around a mouthful of burger. “It’s good.”

Sam gave a little shake of his head, his brow furrowing. “Use your napkin?”

“Alright Felix, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dean finished the burger in a couple more bites, his cheeks stuffed like a squirrel, picked up his napkin and daintily patted the corners of his mouth in mock propriety as he chewed.

Sam laughed. “That is not going to cut it, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you’re just jealous because you only had a salad. Here,” he stabbed a pierogi with his fork and held it out towards Sam, “try one of these. Come on. Try it.”

Sam wrinkled up his nose. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Your loss.” Dean said as he shoved the entire thing into his mouth, butter dripping down his chin.

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

***

Back in the motel room, after Dean had washed the remains of dinner off his face, he’d stretched out in bed and flipped through the meager selection of channels before finally settling on some HGTV show about flipping houses.

“Really?” Sam had asked.

“Shut up.”

But it seemed to do the trick because Sam heard soft snores coming from the other bed a few minutes later. He grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned the tv off before rolling over and drifting off to sleep himself.

“Sam.”

It was said so quietly that it took Sam a minute to realize that it hadn’t been part of his dream. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around the room. Dean was laying on his back, eyes scrunched closed, breathing fast and shallow.

“No.” Dean mumbled quietly, talking in his sleep.

Sam pushed up on his elbows and looked at the clock. They’d only been asleep for maybe half an hour.

“No, don't,” a little louder. Then, “Sam, no!”

“Hey, Dean.” Sam said.

“Don’t,” Dean said, and the raw fear that one word carried made Sam get up and reach out to touch Dean’s arm.

“Dean. Wake up.”

“Don’t go, Sam!” His head tossed back and forth. “Get away from him! SAM!”

Gripping his brother’s upper arm, Sam shook him. “Dean! Wake up!”

Tears were streaming out of Dean’s eyes. “No, Sammy, don’t leave.”

“Dean! I’m not leaving. I’m right here. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up.” Sam’s other hand gave a few gentle slaps to Dean’s cheek, “Come on, wake up, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, “Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m right here. It’s okay, Dean. It was just a nightmare.”

Dean’s eyes blinked rapidly a few times as he looked around before settling on Sam. Sam was completely unprepared for the sudden, fierce hug that Dean pulled him into, and he almost fell on top of him on the bed.

“Whoa! It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.” He repeated as he awkwardly hugged back. “It was just a dream.”

After a minute, Dean let go. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Sam sat down on the side of his bed as Dean got up and swung his legs over the edge of his own, putting his feet on the floor. Dean wiped at his face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam said gently, trying to walk that fine line between being caring but not too caring. He knew from long experience that moments like this were delicate for Dean. Sometimes he would open up and let his problems and fears and worries spill out between them. But if Sam pushed at all his brother would clam up tight, and whatever was bothering him would just keep festering until it leaked out again and again.

Dean looked at him and Sam could see the wheels grinding in his head. Dean looked away, looked around, looked down at his own hands. Sam just waited.

“It’s stupid.”

“Not if it’s bothering you this much.”

“It’s,” he shook his head and closed his eyes to say the rest, “it’s just old fears, I guess. Got all stirred up when that thing…” he opened his eyes, still looking down though and rubbed his chest, right over his heart. He didn’t say anything else and the silence stretched out between them.

“I’m not going to leave.” Sam finally said quietly.

Dean looked up at him and the doubt that was there for just a second, just a heartbeat, cut right through Sam. But then Dean gave a small smile (that didn’t really reach his eyes, Sam noted), nodded and stood up. Sam watched him walk to the bathroom and close the door without saying anything else.

Sam blinked his eyes, willing them to stay dry, and he swallowed down his own insecurities as they started to well up. He deserved that doubt, he knew. He had left Dean, more than once. Every chance he’d gotten, in fact, he’d cut and run. At the time, he had been blissfully unaware of anything but his own need to try whatever he could to find a normal life. But knowing now what that had done to Dean would eat away at him if he let it. Instead he took a long breath, in and out, and reaffirmed to himself that he would do whatever he had to, for as long as he had to (for the rest of his life) to make it up to Dean.

Although it took Sam a long time to unwind, once Dean was settled watching a movie on Sam’s laptop, he finally managed to get a few hours of sleep, drifting into fitful sleep sometime well after midnight. When he woke up, Dean was still awake, sitting at the little table by the window still looking at the laptop but with earbuds in so he wouldn’t disturb Sam. A steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

They didn’t talk about the nightmares. Sam got up, they both got ready to go, loading their stuff into the car, and headed for Chicago. Dean insisted on driving. He didn’t sing along with the radio, he didn’t tap out the rhythm on the steering wheel, he didn’t talk at all except when he had to, all the way to the city. The time for dealing with whatever this was would come eventually so Sam just let the silence roll on and did his best to ignore the growing dark circles under his brother’s eyes and the dimples that only appeared when he was annoyed.

The deaths in Chicago turned out to be exactly what they figured, vampires. A nest of them had set up shop and were culling victims and recruiting new members to their fang club at a bar called The Empty Bottle. They had obviously been trying to be careful, to keep a low profile, they just didn’t keep it low enough. It took about 24 hours of investigating for Sam to make the connection with the bar, and then just an hour or so in the place to spot a vamp and follow it back to the nest.

“Looks like there might be about a dozen of them. That’s not a walk in the park.” Sam said.

Just then a group of nine vampires left the nest, split into ones and twos, and wandered out, probably to hunt.

“Odds just got a lot better. I say we hit the nest now, wait around, and pick off the rest as they come back. We should have it cleared by morning.” Dean got out of the car , a cloud of trillium, saffron and skunk cabbage smoke pouring out of the car, and opened the trunk. Sam joined him, strapping a machete to his belt and loading a dart gun with dead man’s blood syringes.

They had the element of surprise, thanks in large part to the obnoxiously loud music that was banging out from the stereo and were able to take out the vampires that had stayed in the loft quickly, all at once.

“Did they really stay behind just to fuck?” Dean wondered out loud.

Sam shrugged, wiping blood from the blade of his machete onto a couch cushion next to the tangle of beheaded, naked bodies. “The others will smell the blood when they return. But the music should mask our heartbeats.”

“Great. So now we wait.” And they took up positions near the door, where they wouldn’t be seen right away and they waited in silence.

***

“That was the dumbest bunch of vamps I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how they made it this long.” Dean said as he walked into their hotel room just after dawn.

“I think they were all recently turned.”

“Which means there may be an older one around here somewhere. We should get ourselves a few states away before nightfall.”

They packed up their stuff and were headed south by 8am.

They made it to Noel, Missouri just north of the Arkansas state line by sunset and checked into a room at Arthur Murray’s Motel. Dean had made a joke about Sam taking dance lessons while they were there that Sam didn’t laugh at. The room had a rustic, mountain lodge motif and two queen-sized beds, brown leather overstuffed chairs, and all the other usual stuff, mini fridge, microwave, tiny coffee maker, dresser with a tv on it, etc..

Even though it had been a couple of days since he’d slept, and he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep before that, Dean still made a quick run out to a liquor store, loaded up on beer and a bottle of whiskey before settling in for the night. It took a six pack and about a 1/4th of the bottle of whiskey before he finally passed out just after midnight. But just minutes after his breathing had shallowed out with sleep, Sam heard a quiet, mumbled, “no.” Dean’s brow scrunched up and his head slowly shook back and forth.

Without thinking about anything other than the fact that they both needed to get some real sleep, Sam reached over and covered one of his brother’s hands with his own, applying gentle pressure. “I’m right here, Dean. I’m not leaving.”

Still sound asleep, Dean clutched at Sam’s hand with both of his.

“I’m not leaving, Dean. I’m staying right here. Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

***

Dean opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear his vision and freeing his hand so he could rub the sleep out of them. He wondered what time it was, felt like he’d been asleep for a week and he raised his head up to look around. Sam was sprawled out next to him, still sound asleep, but on Dean’s bed instead of his own. He realized that he’d had to let go of Sam’s hand when he’d moved it, that he’d been clutching onto him in his sleep.

“What the hell?” he said quietly, a barely audible grumble. He turned and looked at the clock. It was almost 11am. He didn’t remember falling asleep, he’d drunk himself into unconsciousness, hoping to escape the stupid nightmares this time. He thought back and even as his dreams were turning to vapor and wisping away he recalled one moment. Instead of running away again, Sam had come back and held onto him.

“I’ll be right here when you wake you.”

“Screw getting up,” he thought, closed his eyes again and drifted, half dozing, until Sam finally woke up.

Next Chapter --->

#spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #weirdcest #gencest #angst

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sashi-ya · 3 years

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{+18} - Law x Fem Best Friend ♥ CH. 4

♥ Daily living with the Heart pirates crew AU.

♥ Spoilers after Dressrosa Arc. Law´s backstory. Wano kuni arc.

♥ Female reader. Little physical description. Everybody is 18+, canon ages.

♥ TW: NSFW, violence. Drama (a lot of it). No further warnings. If you think I should include some feel free to tell me

♥If you wanna know when I’ll be updating the next chapters, you can follow me on Twitter @LawIsMyWaifu, come interact I love to have mutuals that love Law and One Piece as much as I do ♥

Word count: 3.9K

» List of parts: {CH1} {CH2} {CH3} {CH4} {CH5} «

Chapter 4.

The plate fell into the floor… Law showed no emotion at all, he looked at me as the words I’ve just said weren’t ever said. We remained silent for a long minute. I stayed strong, stronger than ever. No more tears. Inside I was broken, I knew he was too…. From the outside I decided to show nothing but a straight face, I was determined. His words have hurt me, and there was no return. Law knew it.

“Please, let me descend on the next island. A few days and this should be over. Don’t tell the rest of the crew, I’m gonna do it personally whenever we arrive at the next port”. I stated, firmly. “If that’s what you want, fine”. Said Law, and left the room, slamming the door.

The moment he was gone, I collapsed over the door. Snapped my fingers. “Silento”, I said, making a silent bubble around me. I screamed, cried, felt my heart break into a hundred pieces. I was a few days away of being alone, alone again. Alone for the first time since I met Law. I was about to leave my whole family, and the person I’ve ever loved the most.

What about everything we got planned? What about us making the world government fall? What about avenging our families?... what about us?...

I must have cried for a few more hours until I fell asleep. I was on the floor, with my back resting over the door…

The snow has wet my feet, but I don’t feel cold anymore. I am hungry, but somehow I know I’m not having any food, so I keep walking. My dress is ragged. My plushie, a photo of my parents and a little blue bow are my only companions, my only possessions. I keep walking and walking. Around me everything is blurry. A few people have asked me what it is with me. I don’t answer. My voice is gone, or maybe I’m just too weak to even pronounce a word.

My tears have dried, I don’t have any more left. I am alone, I am waiting for my life to end.

The last thing I ate some days ago was an apple, a fruit, I don’t know. I felt strange after eating it. I don’t really know what it is, but I feel different.

I get to the shore. Somehow being next to the sea makes me feel better. The waves relax me. Suddenly I am so weak I’m feeling as if I'm fainting… my vision got even more blurred… and the last thing I could see was a little boy coming my way, wearing a white hat and a blanket around him.

“Oi, Oi!!” The little boy with white spots that covered almost his whole face skin and bright grey eyes is now shaking me by my shoulders. He has a little piece of bread on his also spotted hands. “Take it, I’m a doctor, you should eat!”. I deny the offer with my head. He seems as hungry as me. “I hate bread, you should eat it. For real, I hate it”, the little boy insists until I grab the piece of bread and eat it. It was magnificent… somehow I feel the need for the very first time in days to speak… “Tha… thank you for the.. food. Wh… What is your name?”, I ask the young doctor. He looks at me considering if he can trust me. “Law. Trafalgar D. Water Law”...

My head hit the floor and I woke up. My face was wet in sweat. The memories of the first time I met Law were replaying while I was sleeping. I gazed at my watch. 11:02 am. Next to me, there was still the plate he dropped yesterday. The smell of the food made my stomach hurt, I got nauseous, so I went to the bathroom right away.

My reflection showed a pale face, my eyes were irritated and puffier than ever from all of the crying. My head hurt. I tied my hair on a ponytail, I didn’t even want to comb it. I felt once again queasy, so I knelt in front of the toilet and wait for my sickness to go away.

A few hours passed until I decided it was time to face my crew. Surprisingly no one has come to see me nor called me or knock on my door.

When I opened the door, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin fell over me. “What are you doing???” I screamed trying to gasp for air with three of my crew mates crushing me. “Sorry Y/n, sorry!!” Bepo begged for my apology as the three of them tried to stand up. “Y/n, we were concerned, you haven’t left your room in almost two days, you haven't eaten a single time since you came back from the island and Captain remained sitting on your door the whole night. What 's going on??” Penguin interrogated me while helping me to stand up.

“Guys don’t ask me any more questions; I am going to explain everything to you soon. I’m all right don’t worry. Bepo… do you know how many days will take us to arrive to the next island?”. Bepo looked at me intrigued, but being the good navigator he is, said “no more than two days, why?”. “Don’t worry, I just wanted to know”, I said and walked with them to the kitchen.

Shachi handed me a plate with some food. I hesitated if I should eat or not, because I was still kinda sick, but I decided to eat anyway. I didn’t want to bother the guys and besides, I had to eat something to stay healthy. I’m going to be on my own soon, I should start worrying about getting food and all that stuff by myself. Eating silently with my sight directed to the food, suddenly I remembered what Penguin said. Law was at my door the whole night?, What the hell was he doing there?…

A few jokes from the guys made me laugh, and my mood slightly got better until Bepo asked about the new necklace I had, “Ay ay y/n, how pretty is that, where did you get it? Oh, it has a heart, so cute!”. I gave him a little side smirk, that showed more pain than true happiness and told him Law has given it to me as a gift. My friends started laughing in a certain way, that somehow made my cheeks turn red. I asked them to stop, that it was just a friend’s present, and walked back to my room.

I started gathering all my stuff, putting my clothes on an old bag that I haven’t used in ages. I didn’t include my boiler-suit, it has our Jolly Roger on it, and sadly I wasn’t going to be part of the crew anymore. The blue box of memories also went into the bag. Of course, I was using my silent spell, I didn’t want anybody on the submarine to hear me cry, especially Law.

On one of the corners of my mirror I got an old photo of my best friend and I the day we visited Sabaody Park, two years ago. We were smiling -pretty weird of Law-, happy. I got a little froggie on my hands, that he has won on one of the attractions for me. I took the photo and sat on my bed, remembering how Bepo got a sugar crush from eating so much cotton candy. In between some tears, I smiled… Nothing ever brings me so much joy than the love and the adventures I’ve been through with my family.

I began to contemplate what I should do with the necklace. It was already noon when I found the courage to return it to Law. I did want to keep it, yet, it marked the beginning of the end... the idea of having it was making my heart squeeze.

I knew the surgeon is usually in the control room over the afternoon, he finds the place relaxing for studying new surgical techniques, so I headed there.

Over the operation control pad there is a big porthole that shows the underwater world. The sound of the water around us with the beep of the sonar makes the room seem so calm. I remained still on the entrance; I was still using my silence spell. Law was asleep over the controls and some books.

I thought the best way was to take advantage of the fact he was sleeping, I will only have to take off the necklace and leave it right next to him and then, leave.

I walked to the chair he was sat on and tried to unhook the gold rose chain. “God damn it, this has the best clasp I’ve ever seen, why is it ….”. Suddenly Law grabbed my leg, he was still with his head over the controls, a sleepy face, puffy eyes and almost black dark circles, looking at me, saying something I could not hear. I snapped my fingers to undo my calm spell and asked him to repeat what he had said. “I was just asking if you needed help, I can give you a hand…”. I nodded and he stood up.

Face to face, he passed his hands around my neck to grab the clasp of the necklace. Struggling, he got even more close to my face trying to unhook it.

Having his face so close to mine, made me lead my eyes to his neck, those earrings hanging so sexy from his earlobe, the hair, the beard that garnished his jawline… I felt an instant need to kiss and softly bite his neck, I did not care about the drama, I was leaving this place forever, this was the last time.

I slowly started approaching my mouth to his neck. I placed a kiss so softly, first caressing his flesh with the point of my tongue and then with my lips. I waited for his reaction, he gasped and remained still. It didn't seem he wanted me to stop. So, I proceeded to leave a path of sweet kisses through his neck to his jawline, following it until arriving at the left commissure of his lips, placing one last kiss there until he turned his head slightly to me and looked me in the eyes. I didn't want to separate my sight from his, and he didn't want to either. We kept looking at each other until he grabbed my face with one of his hands and kissed my lips passionately. It felt almost as if he needed to kiss me as much as he needed air to breathe. For this moment I have forgotten how hurt I was, how much pain I’ve been through until some minutes ago.

His skilled hands reached from under the skirt I was using, my sex. He confirmed how aroused for him I was, feeling how wet my panties were. Law turned me around, pushing me softly to the control desk, leaving me with my head and stomach over it, unzipped his jeans, moved away my panties and penetrated me. He did it violently, needy, he was desperate for it. And I was certainly too.

The surgeon grabbed my hair, pulling my head backwards while pounding me hard. Every thrust made me squirm. We were exposed, anyone could enter the room at any moment, but we didn’t seem to care. What is more, I was enjoying it. The risky sensation that someone could find us during the act, contributed to the arousal that this man was producing on me. His moaning, my groaning, our accelerated breath was heavenly. He was fucking me so hard, I almost lost full control of my limbs, thank God I was holding myself to the desk.

I was about to come when Law decided to turn me around. He pulled down his trousers and sat on the chair, tapped his lap and said, “Come here”. I sat over his lap with no hesitations, grabbed his dick and placed it inside me. Law put his hands on my ribs and accompanied the bouncing movement I did over him. Up and down, sometimes tracing some circles with my hips, sometimes moving them back and forth.

Beads of sweat falling from his neck, his groaning, him throwing his head back from pleasure, tempted me to put my hands around his throat. Me jumping on his dick and the pressure on his neck must have made him lose control, because a few minutes after he came, hard, inside me, filling me, pushing me to climax soon after.

We remained like that a few more minutes, feeling each other, enjoying how our breathing was getting slower. None of us wanted to say nothing…

But, reality hit me hard once the arousal was gone, and this time the only thing I could feel was guilt. Again, I’ve lost control of my impulses when it comes to Law, I couldn’t help it, I loved him. But as far as I knew, he didn’t. I hopped off his lap and ran to my room. As I was running I felt the necklace slowly fall from my neck. I didn’t stop, I kept running. Law was behind me, grabbed the heart pendant and said “Wait, please, let’s talk”.

“Leave me alone…”, I said in between tears, and closed my door. Law placed both of his hands on the door, not violently but almost as if he was begging for me to listen, hurt, heartbroken. “Please, I beg you, we have to talk”... “We have nothing to talk about, count what just happened as a farewell, I need to leave, I can’t stay here anymore. Tomorrow I’m leaving the submarine, forever Law, please emerge whenever we get to the island”, I said choking back tears. There weren’t any more bits of my heart that could break. I hated myself for what has happened once again. I hated him… but I loved him. Law remained silent, but I could hear him sobbing from behind the door. A few minutes after, I heard the steps of his black boots fade away.

I finished packing everything, and before going to bed I saw a little envelope slipped under my door. I knew what it was even without opening it… Several years ago, Law and I learnt about the vivre cards and how to make them. I gave Law mine, and he tried to give me his, but I denied it. What was the point in having his vivre card if I am always going to be with him? and even if I get lost, he will be searching me with mine either way… I was so sure of never leaving his side, how I’ve planned to live my life always next to him. But plans do not always turn out as we wish.

I picked up the envelope and it was in fact his vivre card. I could strongly sense his soul, even if it was a tiny part of it. In the little white square of paper, it was written “Law’s”, and it began pointing to the direction of his room.

I saved it on the blue box of memories and went to bed.

Morning came and I haven’t slept a single minute during the whole night. I was trying to find words to tell my whole crew, to gather the courage to tell them goodbye, to walk away, to bear the fact of the submarine leaving the coast without me.

I heard some knocks on my door. “Y/n-ya, we are about to arrive on the next island”, my -ex- best friend informed me. I grabbed my stuff, walked to the door, gave a last look at my room and left.

Walking through the corridor, I cherished the sound of my steps on the metallic floor for the last time, the boy’s room, fully untidy, the sound of the sonar mixed with the laugh of my nakamas…

I arrived at the kitchen; my crew mates were having breakfast until they saw me with my bags. “Oi.. oi.. Y/n where are you going?“, asked Clione.

“She is leaving the crew, so Penguin now becomes the first commander”. I heard Law behind me communicate to their subordinates. Everybody started screaming, shouting, asking, demanding an explanation. I tried as hard as I could to push my emotions really deep so I could talk to them, and expressed a simple excuse, “I’m sorry guys, my journey with the Heart pirates is over, I love you all, I’ll be fine. Please don’t get in too much trouble, ok?. Become the greatest pirates of all, take care of your captain, please”. And without even letting everyone else say anything, Law ordered them to prepare to submerge and dock on the port of the island.

The screech of the heavy metallic main door opening echoed on my head. Law said “if you leave through this door, you won't enter back. So, it’s your decision”. My nakamas shouted in disapproval for such rough words and begged me to stay. “There is no need to tell me that, you don’t have to hurt me anymore, you know? you’ve done enough”. I whispered to him, with tears on my eyes, and walked away.

“Y/n-ya!”, he shouted, and for a second I thought -wished- he was going to be sincere and don’t let me go, but he continued, “your coat, don’t forget it”. He handed me my white coat that is always hanging next to the door. This time he didn’t place it over my shoulders, as he always does. This time, he wasn’t taking care of me… I could hear the crying and weeping of my whole crew even after Law shut the metallic door behind me.

Once I made sure the submarine submerged, I let all of my emotions free. A stream of tears began to flow from my eyes, I fell onto my knees, I was alone on the shore of a new island, I had to start over…

A month had passed since I arrived on the autumn island. The citizens were really nice, they immediately trusted me, and the island doctor welcomed me as her assistant, after all I was still a physician, not only a pirate.

I stayed in a cozy rental room that had everything I needed. Sometimes, at night when I missed my crew, and especially Law, I checked on his Vivre Card. Whenever I put it over my heart, I could feel the warmth of my beloved soul. But what was pretty weird is that every time I got it on my hand it would always point to the same place. I thought it was because they were maintaining the curse to some certain place, but I didn’t really care, as long as the paper didn’t show any damage I was happy to know he was alright.

Some afternoon, I was walking through the pretty streets of my new home, the sun was slowly setting, and the shining of the golden hour tinted the whole place with orangey tones. The main street had a market where the local producers offered their products. I bought a pretty flower bouquet from Mrs. Ann, as I did once a week, and some groceries.

I headed home, through a long path surrounded by trees with red foliage, the land was covered with dry leaves that crunched every time I stepped on them. The subtle smell of the burning logs that began to heat people's houses, came to me with the wind that blew my white coat.

I let my hair flow with the wind as well. For the very first time in days, I felt at peace. I wasn’t happy, but I felt somehow better. But everything was about to change again. The peace would slip from me, like a fist of sand in my hands…

I felt a shiver that alerted me of some danger, my observation haki showed me something coming up to me, so I turned around quickly. I saw two kids coming my way, crying for help, “Doctor, please, help us!!, our little sister, she can’t breathe!!”. I dismissed what my haki tried to warn me and followed the kids as quickly as I could.

We ran downhill until a little cabin was visible. They pointed at the little house, stating their sister was there.

When I entered there was no suffering kid, but two big guys that looked, and indeed were, pirates. I wasn’t armed, I wasn’t strong enough, Law wasn’t there to protect me…I tried to run, but one of the thugs grabbed me by my hair. He pulled from it, throwing me to the dirty floor. I hit the side of my body on the hard floor. “What do you want?”, I screamed in pain. They laughed at me and said, “Don’t worry we won’t hurt you anymore, the slavery industry wants pretty girls like you without scars… but only if you cooperate”. Slavery… industry?... I was about to be sold as a slave?...

Suddenly one of my captors saw something that caught his eye more than I wished. “Oi, what’s that tattoo on your back?”, he said and pulled up my shirt. I was praying for them to not know but one of them said “Isn’t it the Heart pirates Jolly Roger?, are you a crew mate from that stupid surgeon of death that ruined Kaido-sama’s SMILE business?!”. “I am not, I'm not in that crew anymore, I have left it. I swear it”, I said praying for them not going after Law.

“Bitch, it’s your fault that I’m still waiting for my SMILE!!!!” the other man said kicking my stomach, making me spat blood. “Oi, call Hawkins, asked him what we should do with this bitch. It could be useful for Kaido-sama to get to Trafalgar Law and the damn Mugiwaras”. Apparently my captors were part of the army of one of the Yonkous we were planning to defeat, Kaido.

I was held captive in that cabin for about a whole day, wishing to haven’t ever left Law’s side. I wanted to return to the Polar. I put my whole crew in danger, I wished they killed me right here. “Listen bitch, you better start speaking right now, where is your captain?”, one of the hundreds of members of the beast pirates, demanded me to answer. “I don’t know, I swear it, I left the crew… a few months ago”. I lied about the time; I didn’t want them to go searching them through the next islands. “Liar!!! tell me right now where your stupid captain is!!”, the other guy shouted at me.

I could hear from the portable den den mushi the other guy had, that they had searched my room but found no clues of where Law was. That got him so mad that reacted by kicking me this time on my face. I grabbed my chest; I didn’t want them to know that I had Law’s vivre card on my bra. Somehow that day I felt the need to carry it with me… I was grateful for such a coincidence, if they happened to find the paper, they would be able to get to him in no time.

I was losing my consciousness from the repeated hits, felt a warming sensation of peace on my chest and the last thing I heard before passing out was “ROOM”...

Part 5 - Final part

» List of parts: {CH1} {CH2} {CH3} {CH4} {CH5} «

#trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece law #law x reader #law x oc #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x y/n #onepiece #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x y/n

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thebrochtuarachs · 4 years

Text

To Begin Again, Chapter 11: “Riding”

A/N: I know it's been a while since I updated this story but I hope you like this short little chapter. :) It's been fun revisiting this story and I just love this AU of Jamie and Claire. It’s been a while since I wrote so apologies in advance and as always, comments and suggestions are always welcome. Hope you're staying safe in this pandemic. Love always, M

This chapter is dedicated to @samncait4ever. 🧡 Thank you for being a wonderful friend and fandom ally. Rest in Peace. <3

AO3 / CH: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

XXXX

Jamie and Claire spent the next two days rekindling with each other inside the laird's room, only bothering to leave the chambers once to grab food from the kitchen that will last them for days.

They flitted through talking, eating, coming together, and sleeping ( not particularly in that order ) until they’ve reached another pause in what has been a blissful 2 days.

"Jamie," Claire said softly, a hand caressing the back of his head, "I don't think I've ever been so happy." Jamie rolled to one side, shifting his weight carefully so as not to squash his wife, and lifted himself to lie face-to-face with Claire.

"Nor me, my Sassenach," he said, and kissed her lightly, but lingering, so that she had time just to close her lips in a tiny bite on the fullness of his lower lip. "It's no just the bedding, ye ken," he said, drawing back a little at last. His eyes looked down at Claire, a soft deep blue like the warm tropic sea.

"No," Claire said, touching his cheek. "It isn't."

"To have ye with me again -to talk wi' you -to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts...God, Sassenach," he said, "the Lord knows I am lust-crazed as a lad, and I canna keep my hands from you-or anything else-" he added, wryly, "but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the pleasure of havin' ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart."

Claire’s heart ached and soared with Jamie’s confession, much more to the fact that his sentiments echo to hers so strongly.

“So tell me all yer heart” Jamie said, “We’ve got time now”

Claire gave a small chuckle but moved to settle a bit more to Jamie’s side. "It was lonely without you," she whispered. "So lonely." She need not say more.

“Do ye regret it?” he asked, not really meaning to dampen their high but a question that came naturally in the conversation.

Claire didn’t even think about not answering but owed it to her and Jamie’s newfound strength to bring up these kinds of conversation in their reunion.

“The time we lost, yes. Brianna, no - definitely not.” She gave him a wry smile and continued. “There are so many what-ifs, the things we dreamed about happening, the future we planned… a part of me wonders what our life would be like if we stayed in the 18th century, raised Bree in that time with Jenny and Ian.”

“Aye, I do ken what yer saying. I spent a lot of time in the cave thinkin’ about ye and the bairn and what she’d look like, how ye’ll be as the lady of the house, something of the like’

Claire glanced at the window where the light was strong through the blinds, telling us that it was probably mid to past noon.

“Jamie, as much as I’d like to stay here another day, Bree’s coming in the evening and we need to get up and put our clothes on at some point.”

Knowing full well that Jamie won’t be the first to comply, Claire reluctantly got up and rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor to look for some undergarments and pants. Jamie was still not moving, staring at her with hooded eyes she knew so well but she would not budge as well.

“Oh, come on, get up!” She said laughingly as she pulled the blanket off Jamie’s body forcing him to groan in the cold. “There’s plenty more to see around! care for a stroll with me?”

“With ye, anywhere, Sassenach.”

Bree’s last class for the day cancelled allowing her to travel up to Lallybroch earlier than scheduled. Her parents' directions were fairly easy to follow and now, she found herself on the rough path towards a 3-story building that was meant to be her home.

She saw every detail as told by her mother - the arch that bore the Fraser emblem at the top, the handsome three-story manor of harled white, windows outlined in the natural gray stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimney’s and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about.

She took it all in and expected to feel all the history to overwhelm her but for some strange reason, it brought her a sense of peace and belonging.

She parked her car and proceeded to knock on the front door. After three tries and no answer, she decided to explore the backyard and found out why her knocks and calls were unanswered.

Over the horizon, Brianna saw two horses racing one another in the open field, the competition clearly fierce.

“You’ve lost your touch on the horse, Sassenach” Jamie called, looking briefly behind him to watch Claire.

Claire commanded her horse to a faster speed, easily surpassing Jamie, calling him out “Sorry, you were saying?” she laughed. “Race you to the stables!”

With her headstart, Claire ran out Jamie and won the race.

Once she dismounted her horse and led her white horse to her stable for some food and water while Jamie followed suit, dismounting from his black stallion.

“I should’ve known you were holding back from me, Sassenach.” Jamie said, walking towards her as she closed the door to her horse’s stables.

“Well, if last night was any indication, you shouldn’t have doubted that” Claire replied, allowing herself to be trapped as Jamie placed both his hands on the stable door, blocking her way.

"I thought you'd be a little sore but I seem to be mistaken" Jamie teased, leaning in for a kiss until -

“Mama! I’m surprised that you can ride...” Brianna began her question “... a horse!”

“Bree! You’re here! I thought you won’t arrive till nighttime” Claire pulled away from Jamie’s arrest and went to greet their daughter.

“Yeah, my last class got cancelled. Roger and Mrs. Graham will come in a couple of days.” she explained. “Hi, Da” Bree proceeded to give Jamie a brief hug as well.

“Well, it’s almost lunch, I think we have pork chops we can easily deep fry.”

“Sounds good.”

The trio walked back to the house where Claire proceeded to the fridge and told Jamie and Bree where everything else in the kitchen are.

“So, tell me about the house” Bree asked as they prepared their food.

Claire and Jamie proceeded to exchange stories, flitting between when Jamie’s father built it, to stories of the Fraser children being born in the house, to when they stayed there for a couple of months after they got married, how Jenny and Ian kept it in the family through the challenging years in the past and how Claire purchased and renovated to what it is now.

“It’s a rather large piece of land, that’s why we need the horses.” Claire finished the story.

“How’d you learn?” Bree asked.

“Well, you know my stories with Uncle Lamb and how we traveled to archaeological sites when I was younger. I had to learn pretty quickly how to ride. And then, when I met your Da, he was a soldier and a stable boy, taking care of the horses, so I got to spend a lot of time watching him train the young kids in the castle” Claire explained.

“Do ye know how to ride, Brianna?” Jamie asked as they fixed the table.

“Uhm, no.”

“I can teach ye! If ye want, of course.” Jamie stammered, hoping he did not push his limits.

“Yes! I would love to.” Bree exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to try but never got the chance.”

“Why not? I thought Boston had good facilities for horseback riding?” Jamie asked. Bree and Claire exchanged glances but came out with it.

“Frank and I were either too busy with the university or the hospital so we never really got to take Bree out to spontaneous weekend trips.” Claire began to explain.

“Our trips are planned months in advance so everyone is free. We mostly went to historical sites or the beach for maximum relaxation but adventures like these didn’t happen often.” Bree followed.

Jamie looked unsure how to proceed based on their stories as it seemed half fun. Claire and Bree picked up on it and decided to continue on baby steps when it comes to telling Jamie details of their life the past 20 years.

“Maybe you can start teaching Bree how to ride later after lunch and we show her around the house” Claire pitched.

“Sounds like a plan!” Brianna agreed with a clap.

They proceeded on eating their pork chops while continuing with exchanging stories about Lallybroch. After lunch, they showed Bree to her room while they all freshened up and took a short nap.

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, they all went back to stables where Jamie introduced Bree to one of the mares, Jilly, gave a little lecture and then let her mount up. Claire was content watching on the side with a basket full of snacks for the afternoon.

“Alright, now, just try and be comfortable on the horse. Sit straight and relax. You know when they say that horses smell fear, it’s true” Jamie said to Bree. “Okay, I’m going to take you on a short walk around.” Brianna nodded and gently held on the reins.

Jamie took the horse for a walk around an open lawn and Brianna pretty quickly caught up with the rhythm. After 5 trots, Jamie put the horse on a gallop as a challenge and his daughter ran with it excellently.

“This is fun!” Bree called out to Claire.

“Wait till you dismount it then let me know again.” Claire joked. “But you’re doing great, sweetheart!”

After two hours on and off the horse, night was falling in and they decided to call it a day.

“I’ll go ahead and start dinner, hope you like carbonara. You two, take care of things around here.” Claire declared.

“I’ll walk her to the stables.” Brianna insisted and took the reins from her Da and walked Jilly back to the stables.

“I’ll follow you in a minute, Bree” Jamie said as Claire went towards him for a snuggle as they watched their daughter walk ahead.

“She’s a natural, Jamie” Claire whispered. “Just like her father”

“Don’t make me cry, Claire. But yes, she is” Jamie pulled Claire tighter and gave her a light kiss in the hair. “I always imagined how teaching and taking our children out on a horse would look like. Now, I don’t have to.”

“Aww, darling. It truly has been the best days and I know there is more to come.” Claire lifted her head and gave Jamie a quick kiss. “Now, go and teach our daughter how to rub down a horse and I’ll get dinner started.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #to begin again #to begin again AU #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #brianna fraser #jamie x claire x bree #mia writes again after a long time #canon divergent AU

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zootopiathingz · 3 years

Text

Thanksgiving in Quarantine

(A/N: more Pixar AU!! no there's not really a plot I just wanted to write something for thanksgiving. Also friendly reminder I've never cooked a day in my life so Imma just be vague on those details)

"Alright Pixars, listen up!" Mike called to get everyone's attention. After their conversations died down, he stepped forward towards the front of the room so all eyes would be on him. As the group leader, it was his job to host the monthly meetings and inform them of recent events or decisions made by him or their creator, Luxo Sr.

Once he was sure they were listening, he proceeded to explain, "So as you all know, even though we aren't affected by Covid, we still have to stay in quarantine for the sake of others. So that means that this year, we won't be spending Thanksgiving with the Disneys—"

"YES!!" Everyone cheered ecstatically, some standing up to pump their fists or high-five each other.

Mike was taken aback by their joyous reaction. Not just because it was a response to what he said, but he couldn't remember the last time all of them were that excited about anything. "—like we usually do.." He finished.

"Oh don't act like you're not relieved about it, Mike." McQueen said, "You hate the Disneys just as much as we do."

"Excuse me, but we do not 'hate' here." He said, "We just strongly dislike. Anyway, I'm not that relieved like you guys are. I was actually looking forward to our tradition."

"Well, I'm just glad we won't have to be greeted by them singing 'Be Our Guest' for the millionth fucking time." Woody scoffed, earning some murmurs of agreement from the rest.

Their relationship with the Disneys was complicated, to say the least. Luxo Sr. started the alliance with Mickey Mouse himself several years ago, and thus they joined the Disney family. But the Pixars were never given a say in the deal, and while they did admire the Disneys and were grateful for the success they brought them, that didn't mean they were tolerable to be around. The Pixars didn't hate them (despite constantly joking that they did), they just despised their arrogance and their random outbursts of songs every ten minutes.

"Wait so if we're not going to the Disneys, we're gonna have Thanksgiving at our house?" Marlin asked, "You do realize we haven't done that in like, 14 years? And obviously the family's grown since then."

Mike nodded, "I understand that, but if we're able to somehow survive Halloween, Easter, Christmas, and New Years on our own, then how hard can Thanksgiving be?"

"Your optimism is appreciated." EVE said, "But from past experience, this feels like yet another disaster waiting to happen."

"Yeah, I mean, who's even gonna cook dinner?" Remy asked.

"You are." Mike shrugged.

The rat man widened his eyes, "Say what now?"

Remy was a great cook, and honestly he was the only one who actually knew how to use an oven. But cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal for the whole group was asking a bit much.

"I can't cook that much in one day by myself!"

"You won't, some of us will help you. Right, guys?" Mike asked. But he got no responses, instead everyone just awkwardly looked away.

Remy sighed, "Come on, guys. Do you really want to eat burnt turkey for Thanksgiving? Imelda?"

She put her hands up in defense, "Don't look at me. I don't know how to make white people food."

"Okay, relax. We'll have WALL-E help you." Mike said, gesturing to the robot man—who gave an enthusiastic wave.

But this offer didn't make Remy feel any better. Out of all the Pixars Mike could've suggested, it just had to be WALL-E. "Seriously?" He asked, "You know he burns toast, right?"

"He'll be fine." Mike waved a dismissive hand. "..probably. Okay, does anyone else want to help with Thanksgiving dinner?"

Once again there was nothing but silence and awkward glances. Remy looked around with a pleading face, trying to get anyone to agree, but no such luck. Well, until Atta got tired of the lack of responses and and decided it was best to take one for the team. "Alright fine. I'll help you." She said to Remy.

"Thank Luxo." He sighed with relief, "You are a saint, Atta."

She shrugged, "I try."

"Then it's settled." Mike said, "Thanksgiving will be hosted by Remy, Atta, and WALL-E. Let's pray they don't screw it up."

The three gave him a cold look, while the others nodded in agreement.

—

Thursday came sooner than they realized, and unfortunately due to the pandemic, buying groceries was a pain in the ass and getting what they needed for dinner took longer than they would've hoped. Luckily they were able to have it all in their kitchen and (hopefully) would have enough time to make it. And even though they were spending the holiday by themselves, the Pixars still got dressed up and decorated for the occasion.

Since the kids would be joining them at the table as well, that meant having to cook for even more people. Remy, WALL-E, and Atta were hard at work in the kitchen making gravy, deviled eggs, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, etc. And of course, turkey. At first it didn't seem like cooking was going to be so bad. They got an early start before most of the Pixars even woke up. If all went well, they would have dinner done by the afternoon.

"Okay guys, we've got a full house of hungry Pixars so we gotta get this done quick." Remy reminded them, "Atta, you're on pie detail, and you're gonna help me with the turkey. WALL-E, you focus on the casserole, eggs, and making sure Atta stays away from the marshmallows."

Atta slowly looked over at him while he pointed at her, "Yeah, I see you."

She narrowed her eyes at him before slowly reaching her hand toward the bag of marshmallows. He scolded her as she popped another one into her mouth, smirking at him and holding back a laugh. But then the two quickly moved on, since they couldn't waste much time on banter and jokes.

"I don't see how the Disneys do this every year." WALL-E commented, taking a bite of bread.

"Well, they don't actually make it. They have a whole cooking staff that serves them every meal. Which is kinda why they invite us in the first place." Atta explained to him, helping Remy baste the turkey.

Remy scoffed, "And yet there's only one chef in this house. Man, I'd love it if I could get more help around here. Hopefully the new Pixars will know how to cook."

"That's what you say every time." Atta chuckled.

"Maybe if I keep saying it, it'll happen." He shrugged.

After a few minutes, the turkey was ready to cook. They placed it in the oven and set the correct amount of degrees and time. Now all they had to do was wait and finish the rest of the meal.

Violet walked into the kitchen, inhaling the strong scent of half-cooked food. "Mmm, smells great in here." She commented, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. "So how's slaving away for the others going?"

"We're not 'slaving away', Violet." Remy rolled his eyes. Although now that he said it out loud, it kinda seemed like they were, considering not a single other Pixar was offering to help. Instead they were all hanging out around the house doing who knows what. "Regardless, we're doing just fine."

"You wanna help us?" Atta asked with a mouthful of marshmallows—which earned a scowl from Remy.

Violet sighed, shutting the fridge. "I'd love to, but Joy's taking me out shopping for Christmas presents.

"But stores aren't even open today." WALL-E said.

"That's what I told her." The teen shrugged her shoulders, "But she insisted on taking me and a couple others. I honestly think they're just trying to get out of the house so they have an excuse not to help out."

The three exchanged an annoyed glance. While they expected that sort of behavior from their friends, it was still irritating to know they didn't care enough to even stay home for Thanksgiving. But then again, ditching her friends when they need her didn't sound like something Joy would do.

Before they could question it, they heard Violet's name being called from the other room, signaling her to walk away. "Well, good luck with dinner, guys." She said.

"Okay, have fun today." Atta said to her right before she left. The three then gave each other the same confused expression, all thinking the same thing. But it was a short-lived moment, as they quickly got back to work.

"Alright, making conversation is nice and all, but we can't spend much time having social interactions." Remy reminded them, "From now on, no more distractions, okay? Focus is key."

He turned around, seeing a certain someone once again stuffing three marshmallows in her mouth. "Atta!"

"Leave me alone!" She retorted.

—

Several hours passed since the three started cooking, and they were getting close to being finished. It was hard keeping the kids out of the kitchen to stop them from sneaking bites of the food, since they always did that even when eating at the Disneys' place. But in a display of irony, Remy always shooed them away or chased them out with a broom.

A little after noon the meal was finally ready to be gorged. Everyone had a little bit of everything on their plate and had to pull up a few chairs and small tables so they could all sit together in one spot (one of the tables was actually just an old nightstand). Usually when eating meals, the Pixars would just sit in different areas around the house since the table wasn't big enough for all of them to sit at. But since this was Thanksgiving, they wanted to be together.

"Alright everyone, before we eat, we should go around and say what we're thankful for." Woody said, "And I'll start if that makes it easier."

"It would." They all agreed.

They all joined hands as Woody began, "Well, I'm thankful for all of you. You're not just my friends or people I'm forced to live with, you're my family. Which is kinda the same thing but has better meaning. I'm also thankful for our success, and I'm thankful we're doing this here and not at Disney hell."

A few of them laughed and nodded, although they never thought they'd hear the words "Disney" and "hell" in the same sentence.

"I'll go next." Sulley said, "Let's see, I'm thankful for the food on my plate, and the hard-working people who made it for me."

Remy, Atta, and WALL-E smiled at him.

"And I'm thankful to have the privilege to celebrate this holiday with the people I love."

"Awww!!" They cooed.

Barley leaned towards Sadness to whisper, "Wait, are we supposed to say meaningful shit like that every time?" The girl merely shrugged in response.

Once everyone had a turn saying what they were thankful for, they were finally able to dig in. The turkey was even better than they were used to. The whole meal tasted far better than what they would've received at the Disneys' Thanksgiving. Except the sweet potato casserole appeared to be missing quite a few marshmallows.

"I'm so glad it's Thanksgiving." Joy said, a little out-of-the blue.

"Why's that, Joy?" Bob asked her curiously.

"So I can finally get in the Christmas spirit without people telling me to 'wait until Thanksgiving'." She rolled her eyes.

Out of all of them, Joy was definitely the Christmas fanatic, so much that all other holidays around the end of the year were irrelevant to her. The Pixars didn't mind it, though. They loved Christmas, and they were glad she was always the one to go all out on decorations so they didn't have to.

"Can't argue with that." Jessie said, stuffing a piece of pie in her mouth. "But sadly it's not gonna be the same this year."

"No kidding." Merida scoffed. "If people had just done what they were told back in March, this wouldn't have happened."

McQueen raised a brow, "Dude, we had a whole ass celebration for the Swearing-In in March—"

"That was before quarantine, shut up." She was quick to defend.

"When's quarantine gonna be over?" Dash asked, "I'm tired of staying inside all day."

Mike sighed, as he dreaded this topic every time it came up in conversation. But as the leader, he had to be the voice of reason. "Look guys, I know it's tough, okay? We can't even die from Covid but we're being forced to stay at home, and I know it's frustrating. Heck, there's probably not even gonna be a Swearing-In ceremony for 'Soul'."

"There's not??" Dory asked with a frown.

"If things stay this way, then no." He said, even though it hurt to admit. Swearing-Ins were a big deal for the Pixars. It was what made them apart of the family. "But there's nothing we've been through that we've faced alone, right? We've always had each other, and we always will."

Even though they were still sad about the situation, and even if what he said was a little cheesy, they knew he was right. They were the Pixars for crying out loud, they could handle any challenge as long as they stuck together.

Mike raised his glass, signaling everyone else to do the same. "I propose a toast. To our Pixar family."

"To our family!" They cheered, sipping their drinks afterward.

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nyc-uws · 3 years

Photo

The Story Behind the Famous Kiss

The two participants in the world’s most famous kiss didn’t even know each other, nor was their photograph staged. A new book, The Kissing Sailor, tells how it came about and was captured for posterity. The following condensed version weaves together key sections of chapters 9 through 12. By Lawrence Verria and Captain George Galdorisi, U.S. Navy (Retired) July 2012 Naval History Magazine

Tuesday, August 14, 1945, started off for Greta Zimmer in the same manner as did most weekdays during that year. Hurrying to get ready for work, she showered, dressed, and pinned her hair up tightly to keep her long locks from covering her ears and neck. Before leaving her Manhattan apartment she grabbed a quick bite to eat, reached for her multicolored, small purse, and rushed out the door. When running late, Greta walked briskly toward the subway station to catch a train that could get her to work on time.

Her destination was the 33rd and Lexington subway stop, approximately three blocks from Dr. J. L. Berke’s dentist office. Greta had worked as a dental assistant at the Manhattan office for several months. While she hoped to someday design theater sets and pursue other vocations in the arts, work as a dental assistant bought her some independence and took her mind off a prolonged war.

When Greta arrived at the office on the morning of August 14, she changed into her working uniform. If it were not for her place of employment, she could have been easily mistaken for a nurse. Her white dress, white stockings, white shoes, and white cap did not distinguish her from thousands of other caregivers in New York.

While Greta performed her dental assistant duties that Tuesday morning, many patients burst into the office short of breath and beaming. Excitedly, they informed the staff and patients that the war with Japan had ended. Most patients and workers believed them. Greta wasn’t so sure. She wanted to trust their reports, but the war had rained more than a fair share of misery upon Greta. Her defenses remained high. She opted to delay a celebratory mindset that could prove painfully premature.

During the later morning hours, patients continued to enter the dentists’ office with more optimistic news. While Greta tried to ignore the positive developments, the temptation to flow with the prevailing winds challenged her reserve. As the reports became more definitive and promising, Greta found herself listening, contemplating, and growing eager.

When the two dentists returned from their lunches after 1:00 pm, Greta quickly finished the business before her. Soon after, she grabbed her small hand purse with the colorful pattern, took off her white dental assistant cap (as was customary before going out in public), and set out during her lunch break for Times Square. There the Times news zipper utilized lit and moving type to report the latest news. She wanted to know for herself if the claims that had been tossed about over the past several hours were misleading hearsay, or if, on this day, the reports would finally be true.

When Greta arrived at Times Square, a holiday atmosphere was taking hold. While the celebration was subdued compared to what would follow later that day, Greta sensed a vibrant energy in the air. Suited businessmen, well-dressed women, and uniformed soldiers and sailors entered the pandemonium from all directions. Some ran with no determined direction. Others walked with purpose. Some remained stationary, as if waiting for something big to happen. Greta paid no one particular person much attention.

As she proceeded into the square she moved by several recognizable landmarks: the 42nd Street subway stairwell, a replica of the Statue of Liberty, and a large statue of Joe Rosenthal’s famous picture from a few months earlier. After walking a few paces beyond the 25-foot model of the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima, Greta spun around and looked in the direction of the Times Building. She focused her sight just above the third-floor windows where the scrolling lighted letters spelled out the latest headlines. Greta read the racing and succinctly worded message quickly. Now she knew the truth.

The Last Day of Leave

On the last day of his leave, Petty Officer First Class George Mendonsa paid no attention to the day’s newspaper headlines and worried little about his Japanese enemy. After almost two years in World War II’s Pacific theater, his mindset was that the war would unfold independent of his blessing or curse. On the morning of August 14, 1945, his thoughts focused primarily on Rita Petry, an attractive Long Island girl he’d met a few weeks earlier in Rhode Island.

George woke up that Tuesday morning alone in a bedroom at the Petry family’s Long Island home. After breakfast with Rita’s family, he leafed through The New York Times looking for show times in New York’s theaters. He and his new girlfriend decided to take in a matinee at Radio City Music Hall. They thought the 1:05 pm showing of A Bell for Adano would give them plenty of time to make it back to Long Island by early evening. George was scheduled to depart for San Francisco that night. In a few days he expected to board The Sullivans and prepare for what he hoped would be the last battles of World War II. He knew an invasion of the Japanese mainland was imminent. While he did not welcome the looming chain of events, he thought finishing off the Japanese in their homeland would be a fitting bookend to a war that had commenced almost four years earlier with the empire’s surprise bombing of Pearl Harbor. But all that was in the future. He still had one day left to enjoy in New York.

Preparing for that day, George wore a formal blue Navy uniform that he’d had tailor-made while on leave in Newport. Rita liked how well fitted the new uniform appeared, but she’d also noticed that “he didn’t look like a usual sailor. He didn’t have those things [rates] on his shoulder.” She’d offered to sew on the chevron, but George had insisted he would take care of the matter with a crossbow hand-stitch he had perfected affixing rates on uniforms on board The Sullivans. He never got around to it, so, in the event the shore patrol inquired as to the whereabouts of his rating badge, George made sure to carry the chevron on his person when he and Rita set out for the city.

When they arrived in Manhattan at approximately noon, the city already buzzed with rumors of Japan’s anticipated surrender. However, neither Rita nor George listened much to people’s conversations. Intent on getting to the theater for the 1:05 movie, they made their way from the subway directly to Radio City Music Hall.

For all their rushing, George and Rita never saw the climax of A Bell for Adano, the movie they had come to see. After a few scenes of the film had played on the large screen, a theater employee interrupted the show by pounding on the entrance door and announcing loudly that World War II had ended. Radio City Music Hall patrons simultaneously leaped to their feet with a thunderous applause. Though President Truman had not yet received Japan’s official surrender, and the White House’s official announcement of Japan’s capitulation was still hours away, few raised the slightest objection to the premature declaration.

Seconds after the theater attendant’s announcement, George, Rita, and most other moviegoers poured out of Radio City Music Hall into a bustling 50th Street and 6th Avenue. As they merged into the frenzied scene, they fed off the contagious excitement that surrounded them. People yelled out news of victory and peace. They smiled and laughed. They jumped up and down with no thought of proper decorum. As if caught in a magnetic field, the historic celebration moved toward Times Square. People from other sections of the city were funneled to the same crossroads where they had gathered for celebrations in the past.

At the corner of 7th Avenue and 49th Street, George and Rita dropped into Childs restaurant for celebratory libations. As in other watering holes in New York, people walked, skipped and ran up to the jam-packed counter to tip a glass or two (or significantly more) to the war that they thought had finally ended. The scene at Childs looked much like that on 7th Avenue. Order and etiquette had been cast away. Rather than placing orders for a specific mug of beer or a favorite glass of wine, patrons forced their way toward the bar and reached out an arm to grab one of the shot glasses of liquor that lined the counter. A generous bartender continuously poured the contents of hard liquor bottles into waiting glasses. George grabbed whatever the server dispensed and did not ask what it was he drank. He knew the desired result would be the same whether the contributor was Jack Daniel’s, Jameson, or Old Grand-Dad. Even Rita gave over to the reckless abandon. After several minutes and the consumption of too many drinks, George and his date made their way out of the packed bar.

Emotions and alcohol-based fuel propelled them out into Times Square where victorious World War II celebrants continued to mass. George thought, My God, Times Square is going wild. And at that point, so was George. He felt uncharacteristically blissful and jubilant. As George moved briskly toward the 42nd Street subway station, the sailor from The Sullivans outpaced his girlfriend. For the moment, no one could corral George. And no one tried—not even Rita. The realization of a triumphant war created more vigor than his large frame could hold. He needed to release the energy. Rita did her best to keep up. At most points she trailed him by only a few feet. Although she enjoyed the folic through Times Square, she wondered if George would ever stop for a breather.

In Search of the Picture

As the spirited celebration of Japan’s surrender grew, reporters from the Associated Press, The New York Times, the New York Daily News, and other well-known publications descended on Times Square to record the spontaneous merriment that was enveloping the world’s most important crossroads. Photographers added more bodies to a burgeoning impromptu gala. One of them represented Life magazine.

On August 14, 1945, the magazine sought pictures that differed from most others printed earlier in the war. On this day, Life wanted its viewers to know what the end of the war felt like. The editors didn’t know with any degree of certainty what incarnation that feeling might take, but they left it to their photographers to show them—just like they had with other events over the publication’s nine-year history. Those unsupervised approaches had rarely led to disappointment in the past, and Life’s editors trusted their photographers to deliver again today.

The magazine’s trust in its photographers was especially complete when Alfred Eisenstaedt was on assignment. He had photographed the people and personalities of World War II, some prior to the declaration of war and others even before Life existed. As a German Jew in the 1930s, he had chronicled the developing storm, including a picture of Benito Mussolini’s first meeting with Adolf Hitler in Venice, on June 13, 1934. In another shoot he’d photographed an Ethiopian soldier’s bare cracked feet on the eve of Fascist Italy’s attack in 1935.

After the outbreak of war between Japan and the United States, Eisenstaedt focused on the American home front. In 1942 he photographed a six-member Missouri draft board classifying a young farmer as 2-C, indicating draft deferment because of his occupation’s importance to the nation. For another series in 1945, he visited Washington and photographed freshman senators performing comical monologues and musical numbers to entertain Capitol reporters. During World War II, Eisenstaedt showed the world what war looked like on the U.S. mainland.

On the day World War II ended, Eisenstaedt entered Times Square dressed in a tan suit, a white shirt with a lined tie, tan saddle shoes, and a Leica camera hanging from his neck. Despite his distinctive ensemble, he traveled stealthily amongst the kaleidoscope of moving parts looking for the picture. He made sure not to call attention to himself. He was on the hunt. He knew there was a picture in the making. Kinetic energy filled the square. Eisenstaedt wished for others to feel it, too. To create that sense, Eisenstaedt’s photo needed a tactile element. It was a tall order for the five-foot, four-inch photographer. He relished the challenge.

At some point after 1:00 pm, Eisenstaedt took a picture of several women celebrating in front of a theater across the street from the 42nd Street subway station stairwell. The picture showed ladies throwing pieces of paper into the air, creating a mini-ticker-tape parade. While the photo had its charm, it was not the defining picture Eisenstaedt was searching for that day.

Shortly after closing the shutter on that scene, he turned to his left and looked up Broadway and 7th Avenue to where 43rd Street connected to Times Square’s main artery. As Eisenstaedt continued to search for a photograph that would forever define the moment at hand, he peered around and beneath, but probably not over, the sea of humanity. News of the war’s end had primed America’s meeting place for a one-in-a-million kind of picture. A prospect would present itself soon. Eisenstaedt knew that. So he looked and waited.

The Kiss

Greta Zimmer stood motionless in Times Square near a replica of the Statue of Liberty and a model of the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima. To Greta’s left was Childs restaurant, one of several in New York, including this establishment at 7th Avenue and 49th Street. But Greta did not come to Times Square to stare at statues or belly up to bars. She wanted to read the Times zipper and learn if Japan really had surrendered to the United States.

With the 44th Street sign and the Astor Hotel to her back, she looked up at the tall triangular building that divided one street into two. The lit message running around the Times Building read, “VJ, VJ, VJ, VJ . . .” Greta gazed at the moving type without blinking. A faint smile widened her lips and narrowed her eyes. She took in the moment fully and thought, The war is over. It’s really over.

Though Greta had arrived in Times Square by herself, she was not alone. While she continued to watch the motioning “VJ” message, hundreds of people moved around her. Greta paid little attention to the swelling mass of humanity. But they were about to take notice of her, and never forget what they saw. Within a few seconds she became Times Square’s nucleus. Everybody orbited around her, with one exception. He was drawn to her.

Fresh from the revelry at a Childs on 49th, George Mendonsa and his new girlfriend, Rita Petry, made their way down Times Square toward the 42nd Street subway station. Rita fell behind George by a few steps. Meanwhile, Eisenstaedt persisted in his hunt for the photo. After traveling a block or so up Times Square, he took notice of a fast moving sailor who he thought he saw grabbing a woman and kissing her. That sailor was heading quickly south down Broadway and 7th Avenue. Wondering what he might do next, Eisenstaedt changed direction and raced ahead of the darting sailor. To avoid bumping into people in the crowded street, he had to look away from the sailor he was trying to track. He struggled to regain his focus on the Navy man wearing the formal Navy blue uniform. As he did so, Greta looked away from the Times zipper and started to turn to her right. George crossed the intersection of 44th and 7th Avenue, lengthening the space between him and Rita. The photographer, the sailor, and the dental assistant were on a collision course.

With a quickening pace that matched the surrounding scene’s rising pulse, the sailor who served his country aboard The Sullivans zeroed in on a woman whom he assumed to be a nurse. The liquor running through his veins transfixed his glassy stare. He remembered a war scene when he had rescued maimed sailors from a burning ship in a vast ocean of water. Afterward, gentle nurses, angels in white, tended to the injured men. From the bridge of The Sullivans he watched them perform miracles. Their selfless service reassured him that one day the war would end. Peace would reign, again. That day had arrived.

George steamed forward several more feet. His girlfriend was now farther behind. He focused on Greta, the “nurse.” She remained unaware of his advance. That served his purpose well. He sought no permission for what he was about to do. He just knew that she looked like those nurses who saved lives during the war. Their care and nurturing had provided a short and precious reprieve from kamikaze-filled skies. But that nightmare had ended. And there she stood. Before him. With background noises barely registering, he rushed toward her as if in a vacuum.

Though George halted his steps just before running into Greta, his upper torso’s momentum swept over her. The motion’s force bent Greta backward and to her right. As he overtook Greta’s slender frame, his right hand cupped her slim waist. He pulled her inward toward his lean and muscular body. Her initial attempt to physically separate her person from the intruder proved a futile exertion against the dark-uniformed man’s strong hold. With her right arm pinned between their two bodies, she instinctively brought her left arm and clenched fist upward in defense. The effort was unnecessary. He never intended to hurt her.

As their lips locked, his left arm supported her neck. His left hand, turned backward and away from her face, offered the singular gesture of restraint, caution or doubt. The struck pose created an oddly appealing mixture of brutish force, caring embrace, and awkward hesitation. He didn’t let go. As he continued to lean forward, she lowered her right arm and gave over to her pursuer—but only for three or four seconds. He tried to hold her closer, wanting the moment to last longer. And longer still. But they parted, the space between them and the moment shared ever widening, releasing the heat born from their embrace into the New York summer afternoon.

The encounter, brief and impromptu, transpired beyond the participants’ governance. Even George, the initiator, commanded little more resolve than a floating twig in a rushing river of fate. He just had to kiss her. He didn’t know why.

For that moment, George had thought Times Square’s streets belonged to him. They did not. Alfred Eisenstaedt owned them. When he was on assignment, nothing worth capturing on film escaped his purview. Before George and Greta parted, Eisenstaedt spun around, aimed his Leica and clicked the camera’s shutter release closed four times. One of those clicks produced V-J Day, 1945, Times Square. That photograph became his career’s most famous, Life magazine’s most reproduced, and one of history’s most popular. The image of a sailor kissing a nurse on the day World War II ended kept company with Joe Rosenthal’s photo of the flag raising at Iwo Jima. That photo proudly exemplified what a hard-fought victory looks like. This photo savored what a long-sought peace feels like.

Alfred Eisenstaedt was not the only photographer to take notice of George and Greta. Navy Lieutenant Victor Jorgensen, standing to Eisenstaedt’s right, fired off one shot of the entwined couple at the precise moment the Life photographer took his second picture of four. Though Jorgensen’s photo did not captivate audiences to the same degree that Eisenstaedt’s second photograph did, Kissing the War Goodbye drew many admirers as well.

And then it was over. Shortly after the taking of V-J Day, 1945, Times Square, Greta returned to the dental office and told everyone what was happening on the streets. Dr. Berke had her cancel the rest of the day’s appointments and closed the office. Afterward, as Greta made her way home, another sailor kissed her, this time politely on the cheek. For this kiss Greta no longer wore her dental assistant uniform and no photographers took her picture. And as far she could tell, she had not been photographed at any point in time during that day. She did not learn otherwise until years later, when she saw Eisenstaedt’s photograph of a Times Square couple kissing in a book entitled The Eyes of Eisenstaedt.

George did not realize that he had been photographed, either. When George turned from the act he’d instigated, he smiled at Rita and offered little explanation for what had transpired. As hard as it is to believe, she made no serious objection. George’s actions fell within the acceptable norms of August 14, 1945, but not any other day. Actually, neither George nor Rita thought much of the episode and proceeded to Rita’s parents’ home via the 42nd Street subway train. Later that evening, the Petrys transported George to LaGuardia Airport for a flight to San Francisco that left at approximately midnight. Neither he nor Rita discovered Eisenstaedt’s V-J Day, 1945, Times Square until 1980.

Excerpt reprinted, by permission, from Lawrence Verria and George Galdorisi,

The Kissing Sailor: The Mystery Behind the Photo That Ended World War II

(Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2012).

https://www.usni.org/magazines/naval-history-magazine/2012/july/story-behind-famous-kiss

#Story Behind the Famous Kiss #The Kissing Sailor #NYC

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starkercrossedlovers · 5 years

Text

Call Me, Maybe? 📞

This is part two of the sex line fic Hotline Bling and I hope you all enjoy!!

————————

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

Peter’s had the song stuck in his head for days, humming it under his breath in class, as he patrols, singing off key and loud in the shower...it’s silly, but he can’t stop.

It doesn’t help that he’s made it the ringtone for Tony, and when he’s not in class, it blares every time the older man calls or texts.

Which is a lot.

Because they sext and text and call each other...all. The. Time.

He swerves and dodges a blast from a robot seemingly intent on homicide and hisses when one of its lasers slices through his suit and into his ribs.

He should be getting ready to meet Tony, but no, some maniacal asshole had to go and ruin his date. He’s already sent Tony a text that he’s not going to make it—last minute paper to finish!—but he’s hoping that if he can just—

The robot tangles in the webs he shoots and then blasts it with an EMP, grinning in delight when it collapses to the pavement below.

He webs it down more securely until SHIELD arrives and then swings away, back to the apartment. It’s only when he’s in the shower that the wound on his side makes itself known again and he hisses as blood streams down the drain. His fingers shake as he wraps a bandage around his torso after the shower, wincing at the ache in his side.

He can’t go meet Tony like this...

Sighing, he pulls on soft sweatpants and a T-shirt, toweling off his hair as he heads for his desk.

He does actually have a paper to work on...even if he’d much rather be somewhere else...with someone else.

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

He grins when he sees his phone light up with a new text from Tony.

Tony: hey baby, I know you gotta paper to write, just wanted to say I miss that pretty face

He melts.

Snaps a pic of him, post shower, pink cheeked and shirt slipping off one shoulder and sends it.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Tony: oh baby...ur so pretty...wish I was there to mess you up, get you all dirty

Peter: me too...I’ll call you when I’m done?

Tony: yes plz baby 😘😘😘

Peter grins and sets the phone aside, determined to focus and get this paper done.

Then he can play.

——————————

When he’d first met Tony at the coffee shop two weeks ago he’d kinda expected to be taken somewhere private and fucked senseless. Instead, Tony had bought them coffee and guided him to a corner table and they had talked...for hours.

He’d found out the older man is a mechanic and former race car driver, with a penchant for sex line work on the side. He’d explained that he likes the work; he’s always enjoyed making his partners cum and being a sort of blank canvas for other’s needs is something he finds enjoyable.

Clad in a flannel button down with a Black Sabbath T-shirt underneath, jeans that clung to his thighs, and combat boots, he was...entirely unexpected.

They talked mechanics and engineering, biochemistry and history, social justice and morality and before Peter had realized it, his stomach was demanding food. When he tried to apologize, Tony just laughed and guided him out to his car—a 75 Aston Martin Vantage, cherry red with gold accents—and took him to dinner.

He finds out that Tony’s 45, single, divorced with no kids, and co-owner of Stark Industries with his ex wife, Pepper Potts. Peter can barely believe he’s sitting with a man named in the top 100 wealthiest people in the world eating burgers from some hole in the wall diner, but yea, it’s real.

When he dropped him off after that first date he asked if he could kiss him and then proceeded to do so until Peter was hard and aching, clinging to the older man and gasping his name, whispering a plea that Tony had struggled to refuse. He sent Peter inside and called him minutes after he got home, listened to him jerk off and beg for Tony, cuming alongside him just a few short minutes later.

They’ve seen each other nearly every day since then, talked just about every night, texted constantly, and still, Tony hasn’t fucked him yet. This weekend though, he’s going to make it happen. Aunt May is going to Chicago for a conference and he’s assured her he’ll be fine, nudged her out the door and then waited ten minutes to text Tony.

Peter: home alone this weekend, come over?

He bites his lip, pacing as he waits for a response and then jolts when his phone starts playing that familiar ring tone.

Tony: have a few more meetings at SI 8 ok?

Peter: yes!

Tony: see you later sweetheart 😘

Peter sighs, it’s noon, which means he has to wait all day for Tony. It’s an in service day so he’s home alone, with nothing to do. A grin creeps over his face and he runs to his room, shedding clothing until he’s in his boxers.

Screw homework, he’s going to tease Tony till he comes over early and fucks him.

He plays with his nipples until they’re sore and achy, chest flushed pink with desire and hair messy from writhing on his bed. He snaps a pic and sends it—missing you—he captions it.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Tony: baby...Jesus...u look so good

Peter shoves a hand into his boxers and takes another pic so Tony can see. Wish you were here he sends along with it.

Tony: Christ kid...trying to focus on this budget mtg and that’s not helping

Peter grins and records a small video of his hand stroking his cock inside his boxers, loops it into a gif and sends it.

Tony: fuck...baby boy, ur making daddy hard. Gonna get in trouble if u can’t behave

Peter records another short video and allows himself to gasp and moan, need you daddy he whispers, grinning as he sends it.

There’s a long few minutes of nothing and then—oh...Tony’s sent him a video of him, in the bathroom presumably, stroking his cock and murmuring.

Look what you did to daddy baby, look how hard you made me...daddy can’t even get through a meeting without his baby needing him, huh? Gotta leave work early and come take care of you?

Tony groans as he cums, and Peter moans with him, spilling over his own hand, grinning as Tony huffs and murmurs—be good baby, I’ll be there soon.

——————

Soon, it turns out is three more hours. Which is still much earlier than he’d originally said he’d be there, but still, it feels like an eternity to Peter. He’s actually done his chores; laundry, cleaned his bathroom, completed his bio homework, and he’s thinking of going out for a patrol when there’s a knock at the front door.

He tugs on a T-shirt and hurries out, beaming when he sees it’s Tony through the peephole. He manages to get out a surprised gasp at the sight of him in a suit before the older man pushes him inside and kicks the door shut. Tony’s on him all at once, hands cupping his ass as he lifts him, mouth hungry on his as he presses Peter against the wall, devouring him.

Peter whines as Tony’s mouth trails over his throat, marking it deeply before he fists a hand in Peter’s hair and pulls, tilting his head so he can kiss all along his collarbones and lick at the soft space in the hollow of his throat.

Tony rolls his hips into Peter’s so he can feel the hard line of his cock as he growls in his ear.

“Can’t even get through a few hours alone, huh baby? You that desperate? Hmm?”

Peter’s breath hitches and he nods, gasping when Tony’s fingers tighten in his hair to hold him still.

“Gonna have to teach you how to wait baby. Gotta learn patience.”

Tony backs away from the wall and carries Peter to his room, lays him down and strips him bare, and then just sits back, looking at him. Peter makes a soft noise, needy and pitchy, slides a hand down to wrap around his cock, only for Tony to bat it away and then capture the other, pinning them above his head in one easy move.

“No touching baby. That’s for daddy,” Tony tells him, smiling dark and dangerously. Peter whines but nods, arches his hips up as though he thinks it’ll get Tony’s attention to his cock, but the older man just backs away, keeps his hips high so Peter can’t make contact.

“Keep your hands there baby,” Tony instructs before sitting back, his weight on Peter’s thighs so he can’t move. Peter watches as he strips off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves so the bronzed skin of his forearms is exposed. He’s so densely muscular, years of working on cars honing his body into a solid weight that feels perfect on top of Peter.

Tony grabs the lube Peter had out earlier and slicks his palm before wrapping his hand around Peter’s cock, smirking when he gasps and tries to arch into it. He strokes him slow and steady, eyes dark and hungry as Peter moans and writhes, gasping Tony’s name as he gets closer, heat building in his stomach.

I’m gonna... he manages to gasp out...and Tony’s hand is gone. Peter sobs at the loss of sensation, whining as his orgasm fades away, tossing his head on the pillow unhappily.

When Tony resumes stroking him he moans and shudders, but it’s only a few minutes later that Tony removes his hand again. “I told you baby, you gotta learn to wait,” Tony croons, hand rubbing Peter’s thigh soothingly as he keens and writhes.

Peter’s not sure how long it goes on for like that—hours, days? All he knows is Tony’s hand on him and the ache in him growing each time it isn’t allowed to break free. He’s sobbing for each breath, tears wetting his lashes as he begs and begs, every nerve in his body like a live wire.

“Want you...in me,” he manages to gasp, begging please please please, and it seems like Tony softens for moment, considering his plea. He nods slowly and grabs Peter’s hips, rolls him into his stomach and then pulls him to his knees, gently pushes his head back down when he tries to lift it.

“Okay baby,” Tony murmurs, “just hold on.”

Peter expects his fingers, lube maybe, but he doesn’t expect—Tony’s tongue, hot and wet over his hole, licking fervently into him. He cries out shrilly, gasping and clutching at the sheets as Tony devours him; licking and sucking at his rim until it feels puffy and loose, tongue thrusting in and moving inside him.

It’s joined by a finger and then another, thick and calloused, firm inside him, stretching as Tony continues to attack his rim. Peter keens when Tony nips at him, the sensation nearly overwhelming as a third finger joins the other two.

He can feel Tony searching, and when his fingers find it, Peter lets out a strangled scream and thrusts back, eyes rolling back as Tony fucks into him. He’s loose and wet and it’s loud, the sound of Tony’s fingers inside him—sloppy in a way that should be disgusting but makes his gut burn with pleasure.

He can feel it rising within him, hot and desperate and he tries, but he can’t form words, just strangled moans of Tony and daddy as he drools info the mattress and then everything goes white; soundless, sightless, senseless.

As sound and sensation creep back in around the edges he’s aware of how hard he’s cum, and the fact that he’s still hard. Tony’s fingers are still in him, and the older man is murming softly.

“Look at you sweetheart, look at the mess you made. That pretty little cock is still hard, huh? Well, you don’t get to cum again till daddy does,” he warns. Peter can hear a belt being undone and a zipper sliding down and then Tony’s fingers slip out of him and he moans at the loss, rocking back to chase them.

Tony laughs softly and turns him around, pulls him into his lap where he’s still dressed, but his cock is out, hard and red and throbbing. He guides Peter up and holds his hips as he pulls him down, eyes hooded and dark as they watch him.

Peter sobs at the sensation; Tony’s cock is thick and long, and it’s, it’s breaking him apart as he sinks down onto it, breath hitching as the head slips past his rim, a sobbing moan sliding from his throat as Tony pushes into him slowly.

It’s too much, too thick, pressing into his soft insides, and it hurts, but not real pain, pain like when he makes himself cum too many times in a row or pokes a bruise—heavy, throbbing sensation that makes him ache for more.

Tears blur his vision as Tony fills him, hard and heavy in his gut, the head of his cock pushing into his prostate like a punch to the gut. He shudders and curls inward, tucks himself into Tony’s chest panting and whining as Tony pushes the rest of the way into him.

He’s so full...it feels like he could split apart at the seams from how Tony’s cock is seated inside him, pressing into him, the weight of it taking his breath away. He’s shivering and breathing unsteadily, and when Tony’s hand makes slow circles over his back and his lips press into his hair, he whines and nuzzles into him further.

“You okay baby? We don’t have to keep going,” Tony murmurs, lips against his ear, voice warm with concern.

Peter shakes his head and sniffles, “S’really full,” he slurs, “s’alot.”

Tony nods and kisses his temple, “I know baby, just breathe, mmkay?”

Peter manages a weak nod and turns his chin so his nose is in the crook of Tony’s neck and his scent floods his nose; warm and spicy with undertones of grease and metal. Tony keeps making slow circles over his back and eventually he realizes he’s rocking his hips, making slow circles of his own on Tony’s cock.

“You ready baby? You gonna ride daddy’s cock?” Tony asks, voice a low hum in his ear.

Peter nods and wraps his arms around Tony’s shoulders as he sits straighter, a little bleary eyed as he stares into Tony’s eyes. The older man smiles and lifts a hand to cup his cheek, a tender expression on his face as Peter gains his rhythm.

“You’re so beautiful baby, all pink and flushed and fucked out from daddy cock. Love those little noises you make,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into Peter’s lower lip and then into his mouth as the boy moans and rolls his hips faster.

Peter is dazed and a little light headed, need swelling within him once more as he rides Tony, gasping and moaning around the fingers in his mouth. His ass burns, stretched open and throbbing at the weight of Tony’s cock thrusting into him, the heat of it filling him till he’s like a ripe fruit, swollen and ready to burst.

He sobs a little as he thrusts faster onto Tony, arching his back as he finds that spot within himself, pleasure like white lightning up his spine every time Tony’s cock drags over it. He’s not even coherent as he lifts himself and slams back down, cries loud and wrecked, chest heaving with every breath.

P-pleaseeeee...daddy! Uhn Uhn Uhn

Tony’s grip tightens on him as he watches his boy, flushed and crying, cock bouncing as he rides him, loud desperate moans filling the small apartment.

He wishes he had the foresight to record this, so he could watch it over and over again when they’re apart—next time, he promises himself. Pleasure burns in his gut as Peter bounces on his cock, tears on his cheeks as he begs to cum, cock drooling heavily on his stomach.

He’s close himself now, and decides to take mercy on his sweet boy. Wrapping his hand around his cock he strokes, twisting at the head and thumbing at the sensitive tip, groaning as Peter wails and jerks, sounds strangling as he bounces harder, faster.

Peter can’t tell where pain ends and pleasure begins; he’s too stretched out and Tony’s touch on his cock hurts, but he needs it, needs to cum, and the thrust of his cock inside him is hard against the bruised walls of his body, but it’s good, so so good and he can’t, he can’t—

Tony sucks a mark to his neck, “Cum for me baby,” he gasps, pressing his nail into the tip of Peter’s cock just as he slams down on Tony’s length. A wail rips from his boy’s throat and then his cum is splattering over his stomach and Tony’s hand and on his suit and he’s shuddering and following after him, spilling hot inside Peter with a groan of his name.

Peter sobs, rocking down on Tony as his cum fills him, hot against his tender insides, slipping out around his puffy, raw rim and he cries, shuddering through each spurt of his own cock into Tony’s hand until he’s got nothing left to give and he’s limp in Tony’s arms.

The older man hushes him as he cries, holds him tight and presses kisses to his face and throat and hair, crooning praise. “So good baby, you were so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Tony gently guides him back against his pillows, pulls out slowly and hushes Peter’s whine at the loss. Peter buries his face in Tony’s shoulder and breathes unsteadily as the older man runs his hands over him, shudders when his thick calloused fingers slide into his hole where he’s wet and open.

“God baby, look at you,” Tony rasps out, voice low and gravelly. “You’re a mess sweetheart. All open and wet with daddy’s cum.”

Peter whines and pushes his face against Tony’s throat, embarrassed but pleased.

“C’mon baby, look” Tony encourages and he finally pulls away, leans up and peers down, flushes when he sees the way his thighs are coated in sticky white, his and Tony’s cum staining his skin.

He collapses back and throws an arm over his eyes, entirely exhausted and wrung out. A dull ache throbs inside him where Tony was, and he can feel his hole trying to tighten, but he’s still loose and dripping cum and he shivers, enjoying the slick sensation of it.

Tony kisses his cheek and pushes his arm off his eyes, gaze worried and soft. “Are you okay Peter? Anything hurt?”

Peter laughs softly and slings his arm around Tony’s neck, draws him down for a kiss that’s uncoordinated and sweet. “I’m ok, promise,” he breathes against Tony’s lips. The older man studies him with a hint of suspicion and then nods, smiling softly.

“Mmkay sweetheart. We’re gonna shower and then you’re gonna eat and watch a movie with me.”

Peter stares at him for a long moment, throat working to produce the words he wants desperately to ask.

“You’re staying?”

Tony’s gaze softens and he nods, leans in for a kiss, “Baby, of course I’m staying—you’re never getting rid of me now,” he promises with a wry little smirk Peter can feel against his mouth.

He grins and pulls him closer, “Good. I don’t want you going anywhere...except inside me.”

Tony laughs and drops his head to Peter’s shoulder, body shaking with laughter and Peter grins; he’s so glad he called that line and found Tony.

Found this.

Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me maybe

———————

@sluttystarker @starkerchemistryy @pantastic-peach @thebadthingshappen @ciel-mio @hpspazz @starker-4ever @w1nters-stark @foof-a-loof @confused-trash-kitten @panicdotexe @stqrker @honey-honey-darling @mariketa12 @itsmeryshipper @dramione90 @starker-flame @pretzelpoetry @seriouslystarker @starkerthanreality @ikneelbeforemygod @professional-fangirl75 @virgilismypoorshadowling @godlovesstarker @sapphicfreak @veronicashipsit @the-dark-obsidian-princess @ikneelbeforemygod @laughing-oreo @sensei-sans-sugoi @ruelukas22 @tom-starker @yourlittlemelody

#starker #starcrossedtalks #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #daddy stark

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serahsanguine · 5 years

Text

Vacation Series Pt. 1 - Let The Games Commence. Ch, 2

This is the first book in a two-part series. This book is a six-part story which will be upload daily for the next week. After that, it will be Book two following the same pattern. it was originally made for the Summer Fanfic Exchange.

Part one on Tumblr, All chapters can be found Here on Ao3

This Chapter Rating; PG-13

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Chapter Two - Day one

3 weeks later

Mulder was packing the last of his suitcases, making sure he had everything he might need. Basic clothing was swimming trunks, though he added a pair of red speedos in there. He doubted he would need them but he put them in there just in case. He also packed shorts, t-shirts, towels, sandals, shoes. Washbag. He couldn't think of anything else.

He was going to pick Scully up in less than 30 minutes. He was nervous to be spending a whole two weeks in close proximity to her. Seeing her in a two-piece bathing suit would certainly be his downfall.

The Lone Gunmen were already at the house, airing it out, making sure it had food and was cleaned. If he had to admit it, he was sure he was going to enjoy the time away.

The hour was getting close, so what if he was 15 minutes early? He grabbed his keys, bags, gun, badge — never know when you're going to need the last two. He locked his door and drove to Georgetown. He arrived, knocked on her door and waited for her to answer.

She opened the door and he scanned the full length of her, she was wearing dark jeans and a grey tank top, her hair was down and waved curled around her face. She looked stunning, a true vision of beauty.

"Sorry, Scully I know I'm early. "

"That's okay, I've been ready for about 30 minutes. "

"Nice, then, shall we get going? "

"Yes, could you grab a couple of bags for me? "

"Why, agent, those little arms can't carry that much? " he was teasing her and she knew it.

"Shut up, Mulder, I'm on holiday." She threw him the impulsive Scully grin he adored, that smile of hers that melted his heart.

He stepped into her living room realising how many bags she was actually taking.

“Jesus, woman, how much are you taking with you?”

“Only the essentials,” she laughed and walked out the door.

“Yes, only the essentials, ” he muttered under his breath. He picked up the bags, finding his key and locking her door behind him, and proceeded to meet her at the car.

She had already put her bags on top of his and was now sitting on the passenger seat. He placed the rest of her bags next to the ones she had already placed into the car and sat down into the driver's side.

They sat off driving towards the Chincoteague Island. Which was estimated to be about 3 hours and a half from Georgetown.

1 hour into the journey.

Scully had been sitting there, watching the view go by, thinking about this vacation she was about to go on. She was excited and nervous about spending two weeks with Mulder. Letting loose, being free, enjoying it. No chasing after monsters of the abyss or profiling serial killers; just sea, sun and swimming and a lot of relaxing.

She wasn't looking forward to spending time with the Lone Gunmen but they had agreed that if she wanted to be left alone they would do so and not bother her.

She turned towards Mulder and studied him. The window was open, the wind was blowing his chest hair. His elbow and arm hanging out the window, his eyes focused on the road in front of him. His brown t-shirt slightly swaying and his body slouched. He looked calm, she knew he enjoyed driving and he just seemed so relaxed. Seeing him like this pleased her and sent small fluttering sensation in her stomach. She had to stop this. It would never happen: he was her partner, nothing more. She needed her mind to change the subject and quickly.

"So, Mulder, tell more about where we're staying."

He looked at her quickly and she smiled, and his eyes focussed back and the road.

“Well my dear Agent Scully, we are going to Virginia and it’s the Atlantic Coast. ”

“Very funny, Mulder.”

“Yes I thought so, anyway Chincoteague Island has beaches like no other. The beach is only seven miles long it’s easy to get around. The beaches themselves are found in the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge on neighbouring Assateague. It’s just miles of uninterrupted sand dune and crystal blue waters. Back over the bridge the quaint town of Chincoteague is full of history and charm and a lovely place to explore. Max Boulevard and Main Street are where the restaurants are. The Island Creamery is definitely on the list because it’s the only place to get homemade ice cream. And we all know how much Dana Katherine Scully likes her ice cream,” he said the last bit smirking.

“I do not.”

“Now how’s telling lies, the truth is out there Scully.” A low chuckle escaped his lips

She realised he was flirting with her. And in all honesty, she was enjoying the attention and was shamelessly flirting back.

“Why do you sound so like a travel brochure?”

“Maybe because I read one as soon as you agreed to go on holiday with me,” he slightly blushed but kept his eyes on the road.

“Thank you, Mulder, that is really sweet.” She placed her hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “So, if the beach is really short, how did the Gunmen manage to get a house there?”

“I didn’t ask, and they won’t tell, but I know they have their ways.”

“That they do. ”

They carried on talking and laughing, at some point turning on the radio and shamelessly singing along. Neither one caring.

Chincoteague Island

They arrived sometime after. It was hot and humid. They had passed through the village and it was just a pretty, more so than Mulder had described it. The sun was at high noon, shining across the blue waters that surrounded them, glistening like diamonds. They drove up seeing the summer house: pale creams and yellows blending in with the surrounding of the beach. It was a modest-looking house with a veranda and wood white windows. They pulled up and parked, both getting out of the car at the same time.

“Go in Scully, they won't bite, we will grab the bags later. For now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

She walked towards the front door gazing at is beauty: stained glass, full of different colours. Looking closely, it was a picture of the nearby village. It was beautiful.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Scully?”

“My sentiments exactly.”

She put her hand on the door handle and walked in, they were both taken back by the interior of the house. It was open and airy with its neutral colours going through the whole place. They walked a little further to find a living room with loads of Wicca furniture and an open log fire with at least two stacks of chopping wood next to it. The living room lead through to a very open and very large kitchen with its light oak cupboards and custom design table. The whole back wall was floor to ceiling doors that opened on the garden with a view to the beach and the sea. They carried on walking through the expanse of the house until they were back onto the beach.

Langly and Byers were out on the small pier, fishing. They were in casual brown shorts and T-shirts, with a sun umbrella covering them so they wouldn’t get burnt. They had noticed they had company so were discussing the latest ufo sighting or landing. Mulder looked at Scully, and Scully looked back at him both smiling and slightly laughing, both thinking things never change even when on holiday.

Frohike walked in behind them. “Well, if it isn’t the delightful Agent Scully!”

She jumped and turned around, and gave the small man an evil glare. Then smiled at him.

“It’s nice to see you too. Frohike.”

“Glad you two finally arrived, we just finished preparing the BBQ. So go sit over there,” he gestured toward the outside table and chairs underneath the huge veranda roof. He went back inside.

Scully went and sat down, Mulder sitting closely beside her. She looked at her friend.

“I didn’t know Frohike could cook.”

“Yes, he does. He enjoys it and he’s actually really good at it. It’s a secret passion of his. He makes a mean crumble.”

“Well, when I see it, I will believe it.” She was flirting with him now, and she knew he was flirting back.

She was caught by surprise as the gentle breeze flew her hair into her face. And with his light touch, he moved the loose hair and put it behind her ear, his fingers grazing her skin. He was so close now, at kissing distance. Her heart screamed for their lips to touch but her mind screamed to run away. He was her friend, her partner. Flirting was one thing but acting upon that flirting was another.

Yes, maybe one day she would surprise him and follow through with one of his innuendos. But on the other hand, would she really do it? Saying it in her head, even fantasizing about it, that she could do. But would she get the courage to actually do it? Only time would tell. It was a simple flight or fight response.

They were soon joined by Langly and Byers, they instantly started talking about the recent UFO sighting with Mulder and she just stared at them smiling ‘Maybe spending the vacation with the Three Stooges wasn’t going to be so bad after all.’

About 5 minutes later Frohike served everyone steak, chicken and sausage platter from the bbq. With two caesar salad bowls, potato salad, and homemade coleslaw.

Mulder thought everything was delicious and the way Scully was eating, getting the sauce everywhere, was delightful to see. She even went so far as licking her fingers, and it was stirring all sorts of things to his lower anatomy.

‘Why does she have to eat food like that? Jesus Christ. Does she even know what it does to me? Probably not, to be honest.

It reminded him of that case a long time ago when she was eating something while wearing a bib. But what he remembered the most was the moment that she got sauce in the corner of her mouth he had the urge to grab a napkin and wipe it off for her. And before he knew it, he had done exactly that. After it had happened she gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen.

The thing was, she had sauce on the corner of her mouth now and yet again he had the incredible urge to wipe it away for her, to touch her. He was lost staring at her. She had caught him in the act of staring.

“Have I got something on my face?”

“Yes, you do.”

He grabbed a napkin and began wiping the sauce from her face, lost in her eyes. Forgetting internally that the Gunmen were there and totally focusing on her: her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, that pesky hair that kept flipping in her eyes...

Langly coughed loudly and they suddenly broke apart, her cheeks were red from embarrassment, the chair squeaked as she got out of it quickly leaving the table, finding some space away from him.

He sat there at the table, putting his hand to his face and sighing: he didn’t mean for it to go that far, or did he?

“One of these days Mulder, you are going to have to tell her. Because one of these times, there may not be a next time.”

He looked at Byers and sighed again, he knew what his friend was saying, but did he really have the guts to lose her friendship, their partnership if she didn’t feel the same way? He had told himself, after she won her life over cancer, that he would tell her. But life got in the way and he was a coward.

Five minutes later and Scully still hadn't returned, he was getting worried and he left the boys in search for her. It didn’t take him long to find her. Her shoes were off and were by the side of her. She was sitting on the sand underneath the cover of a tree. She was intensely staring at the waves crashing into the shore.

He also took his shoes off and wondered why Scully was not hot, he was boiling in this sun. the sweat drenching his top. He sat next to her.

He had been sitting down for a few minutes when she looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Believe me, that was not my intention.”

He was no longer looking at her, he was keeping his eyes on the mass of the Atlantic Ocean.

“I’m fine Mulder. It was just a long journey.”

“We should head back, get the bags out of the car, and go check our house for the next couple of weeks.”

She nodded and turned towards him. “Honestly, I’m ok, just tired from sitting in the car and warm from the jeans, and the heat.”

He nodded, stood up holding his toes and really appreciating the feeling of how soft the sand was. He started walking towards the car and took a quick glance back: she was following him, shoes in one hand, her hair flowing in the breeze. She smiled at him and they both kept walking.

They got to the car, Mulder carrying not only his bag but some of Scully’s as well, as she was carrying two bags.

It was a short walk up to the annexe and the outside was nothing like Scully was expecting.

The house revelled in its beauty: it was two stories with a grand like Varanda circling the whole house, beige windows with stained glass inside, shining different colours that illuminated the sand in front of them. She walked inside, the layout much like the main house, though this seemed bigger. This house had a completely open plan and the whole back of it was glass, with a full view of the beach. It took her breath away. She walked through, climbing the spiral staircase to the second floor. As promised, there were two bedrooms, both with king-size beds and ensuite shower rooms. Scully put her bags down still exploring when she came across the grand jacuzzi that could sit at least two people. There was an open log fire in every room upstairs equipped with enough firewood for several months.

‘Mulder has really outdone himself this time’ she thought. Realising he had no bags in his hand, she ran across the hallway jumping in his arms. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered a “thank you” in his ear.

She could feel the warmth of his body. She jumped down reluctantly. Being held by Mulder was certainly a nice thing, correction, an amazing experience. She looked up into his hazel eyes, glimmering with love and affection, his smile reaching from ear to ear. She started blushing and looked away but he put his fingers underneath her chin making sure she was looking directly at him.

“No Scully, Thank you for agreeing to come, you’ve made it so much better already. "

She hugged him again, hearing his heart hammer in his chest. She snuggled into his warmth, letting it overflow her, letting his scent invade her. He was the first to let go this time, she let out a small sigh. Her judgement was getting clouded again. She was letting her emotions take her on a rollercoaster.

“We need to get changed, otherwise we will get sunstroke,” he said quickly.

“Oh, really, now here's me thinking I was the doctor in this relationship.” She was teasing him, not mocking him in any way.

“Technically, we are both Doctors, just in different kinds.”

“Touche, Dr. Mulder.”

They both started laughing and went into their separate rooms. Both kept the door slightly open. Old habits die hard. They had this unspoken agreement: if they were not in adjoining rooms while in the same house they would keep their doors open and unlocked no matter what.

Half an hour passed and she had finally changed. Going downstairs she found Mulder reading. She walked a bit closer to find out what he was reading and still she could not see the title, his finger and hands covering both the blurb and the front cover. He was so engrossed in the book She then stood in front of him, and still, he had not noticed her presence.

“Mulder, what are you reading?”

He jumped, quickly putting the book down looking at her. Scully watched his eyes scanning her body, they changed colour depending on what part of her body they were on, she had never seen this look before and couldn’t work it out. She let him ogle her some more before asking again.

“So… what are you reading Mulder?”

She looked amazing, her hair lightly put up around her face letting several loose curls out around her face. Her eyes shone a bright blue that he had never seen. Her emerald blue dress with a square neckline and thin straps was so enticing. He could see matching blue straps of her bikini wrapping around the nape of her neck. The dress flowed effortlessly off her body making her every curve pop out. It was a knee-length dress, she looked exquisite. He heard her speak and hands down he was lost for words.

“I…. Umm.” Fuck, speak. Damn it, shit. “Terry Pratchett’s Colour Of Magic,” he blurted out finally finding the words.

She smiled at him, he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not, if he was making a fool out of himself. But, damn, that smile really could light up a room.

“I didn’t realise you were a fan of Terry Pratchett's books.”

“Yes, I think he is an amazing author. His Discworld collection is definitely his best. You should read sometime, Scully, I think you would enjoy them.”

“Oh, I have and I did,” she said walking through to the kitchen intending to make herself some ice tea.

He was puzzled: how did he not know she was a fan? He laughed to himself: she could still surprise him. And he loved it.

“I don’t believe you. Prove it. What was his last book you read?”

“Well, I have just finished Good Omens. Before that, it was Hogfather; and before that, it was Soul Music.”

“Wow, Scully, you’re full of surprises.”

“Well, I’m glad I can still keep surprising you 7 years on,” she said laughing.

“Me too, Scully. Me too.”

She passed him his tea, and they carried them on through to the beach to sit under two parasols that the gunmen had set up. They stood there for a while enjoying each other’s company, talking about the Discworld collection.

As the hours passed, the sun began to set. Mulder watched the sea, he was lost in its rhythmic percussion as the waves hit the sand. His eyes were steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars. His lips bore a semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he was enjoying himself. He watched as Scully walked across the shore, her toes dipping in the lapping water. She looked graceful like she had reached some kind of inner peace. As if on cue she knew he was looking at her, she turned around and looked back at him. A gentle smile spread across her lips and then she turned back and carried on dipping her toes in the water.

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Tagging; @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @peacenik0 @skullsmuldon

#txf fanfic #TXF #mulder and scully #MulderandScully #The X-Files #the x files #The X Files Fanfic #the xfiles #msr fanfic #msr

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foreveratlas · 5 years

Text

Chronicles of an Elf 8

CATCH UP! One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven.

Episode 8: Routine Interrupted

Luka arrived at the kitchen every morning after five but before six. Every morning, Borg was there already preparing for the morning rush. Each day, Borg gave her two apples, a banana, and a hunk of bread. On rare occasions, he would hide large cinnamon rolls covered in thick icing from the evening before if he could for her. The first time he was able to grab one and hide it for the next morning, he waved her close.

“Little Luka, little Luka,” he said with a satisfied whisper. Luka came close and he pulled from the cupboard a plate with a large bowl that had been turned over on top of it. He handed the plate to her and pulled the plate off, “Ta-Da!” he said excitedly. “It’s a cinnamon roll. Sometimes we make them and serve them in the evening as a treat for the troops. They’re probably the most popular item. But you don’t come for the dinner rush apparently, so I managed to saved you one.”

It smelled as sweet as it looked. The cinnamon was strong and the icing gave a faint odor of vanilla. Her mouth watered just looking at it. It was cold, but it managed to stay pretty well over night, being protected from elements and possible creepy-crawlies due to the bowl placed over it. The cinnamon roll itself was large, possibly the size of the shoulder pads that she wore with her traveling armor.

Luka picked up the roll gently, sniffed at it, and then took a bite. Sparks exploded before her eyes and she made an audible, “Mmmm,” sound. After her first bite she proclaimed, “That is amazing.”

Borg gave a hearty laugh and slapped the counter with a big, meaty palm. “That’s what I like to hear!” He then shuffled off to continue his morning preparations. Luka took a few more bites, intentionally eating slowly as to savor the sweetness and cinnamon for as long as possible. But the roll itself was too big for her in a single sitting.

Around halfway through, she leaned back, patted her stomach and gave a content sigh. “I feel like you over feed me.”

Borg scoffed and scratched at his big red beard. “Nonsense. I give you the same thing every morning and somehow you feel like I overfeed you? Try eating during normal hours to see what some of these brutes consume.” He then went over to large cooler that hummed to the side of the room. He opened the left side door to reveal shelf after shelf after shelf off eggs, sausage, and pre-mixed bowls that contained a wheat and grain goo. “This whole unit alone is just for breakfast. Enough to feed fifteen hundred people in the span of an hour. Breakfast is stopped at eleven, lunch starts at noon, and then process repeats over and over and over.”

Luka gasped. “Don’t you sleep?”

Borg barked back, “Course I sleep! I have to get some rest in order to be in top form or these wolves would sooner eat me!”

“Wolves? I thought they were dragons?”

“Enough sassery. It’s getting late.” He slid an empty paper bag down to Luka who proceeded to dump the cinnamon roll inside. Borg then set down another bag, this one already filled with the usual fruit and bread. Luka took it and thanked him. She then left him to work and made her way down to the Forge.

When she arrived at their particular pit, Luka realized the fire had yet to be started and that the billets had yet to be stacked. Tomlan was missing entirely. She looked around, unsure of what to do when she heard one of the other blacksmiths call over to her, “Hey, Umbran. He’s not here today.”

Luka frowned. “Why not?”

“He takes today off every week. Wait…” the other blacksmith began to laugh, “did he not tell you? Aren’t you supposed to be his apprentice?” Luka certainly thought she was but apparently that didn’t mean a whole lot. Tomlan was here earlier than anyone else. His forge was burning brighter than anyone else’s by this time. The fact that he didn’t tell her that today was a day of rest or something felt insulting to Luka.

“Did he not even teach you how to start the forge?” the blacksmith continued. “That should have been the first thing he did.”

“Hey, I know!” another blacksmith called out. “Why don’t you be my apprentice? I’ll teach you how to start a fire!” The area blacksmiths laughed in unison.

Luka spat. “Thank you, but I’m perfectly fine where I am right now.”

There was a collective, “Oooh,” from the group around her before someone threw in, “Maybe we should snuff her fire instead.”

“She’s kind of lighting a fire in me,” another added. There was another round of laughter and for the first time since Luka stepped into Dragonopolis, she didn’t feel safe.

“Maybe we should light a fire in her!” They were cheering at that point. Her response was to turn on her heel and march out of the Forge entirely. The closer she got to the door on the far end, faster her pace. She could hear the Draconian blacksmiths barking with laughter as she left. By the time she made it to the large door, she was at a sprint, already rushing back to her quarters.

Luka only stopped when the door to her room was closed behind her. She rest against the wall and slid to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest. She wasn’t sure what this feeling was inside of her. Uneasiness. Anger. Betrayal. Embarrassment. She thought Tomlan was kind enough to let her know when he would be working or wouldn’t be working. She was his apprentice, wasn’t she? And what was up with those other blacksmiths? Did they talk everyone else that way? Light a fire. What was that even supposed to mean?

Luka looked at the paper bag she managed to keep a hold on since she left the kitchen earlier. She wasn’t hungry but she didn’t want it to go to waste. But the idea of what that one blacksmith said disturbed her greatly. Luka suddenly had the desire to get out of the fort-- and go where? She couldn't leave the city. But she still at least had a friend she could drop in on. Slowly she stood up and set the bag on her modest desk. She pulled on her traveling armor and cloak as quickly as possible and slipped out into the hallway.

But the only way to leave the fort was by that same elevator Luka came in with. One way in, one way out, and since most high leveled Draconians in the army could transform into dragons anyway, they could technically leave any time they wanted to by simply flying off the structure. Laon or Ultima may have been kind enough to tell most of the fort’s inhabitants not to mess with Luka, but that didn’t mean she was free to come and go as she pleased. Especially if she was required to work to earn her stay in the fort like everyone else here.

So when she came to the set of guards that blocked and controlled the lift platform that would take her down to street level, she wasn’t surprised in the least when one of the guards blocked her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he said aggressively.

“Down.”

“And why would you think down was an option for you?”

Luka’s brow twitched. “Because I want to go down.”

The other guard stepped forward. She seemed much nicer than the other guard, “I’m sorry. We’re not sure if we’re allowed to let you go down.”

“That sounds a lot more civil than this guy,” Luka nodded. “But I don’t understand why I can’t go down.”

“It’s not up to us,” the rude guard said, matter of factly.

“We have to follow orders and one of the orders we received was to not let anyone purple leave the fort,” the nice guard interjected. “Everyone on guard duty has been made well aware that if you leave this fort you would be in danger and that we must make sure you remain inside at all times.”

“And how many purple people have you seen?”

“Only you, so that means you don’t get to leave,” rude guard stamped.

“I want to go down. Now.” Luka shouted, beginning to get irritated with the back and forth. She wasn’t a prisoner here, they couldn’t hold her. She would find a way to leave. This couldn’t have been the only exit. It couldn’t have been. “I need to go down.”

“Tough kid,” rude guard shrugged and reached toward Luka to turn her away. As his hand came within a few inches of her, she gripped him by the wrist and twisted with all her strength, forcing her body to serpentine around him until she had his arm pinned up and backwards against his back with hand, her other arm wrapped around his neck with the other hand, and her legs gripping his middle as tight as possible. No one saw the dagger she had unsheathed during this process but now they realized how much of a threat she was with the blade’s tip pressing against his temple.

“Shit,” the nice guard said.

She constricted her arm against the other guard’s throat. “I want to leave,” she breathed into his ear. Her anger was beginning to pulse in her ears and she didn’t hear the alarm sound. She didn’t see the other people arrive. At that moment, to her, the only thing she understood was that this person was between her and her desire to be let out. No one else mattered. Either she would get what she wanted or he would fall.

“Let go of him,” the nice guard shouted at Luka, but the rude guard was already collapsing to the ground from the lack of air. Before he hit the floor a strange sensation came over Luka. The smell of pure ozone filled her nostrils and suddenly her mind was in a fuzz. Her muscles tightened and constricted and before she realized what was happening, she was on the floor, convulsing in pain so horrendous that her body was seizing and sprawling in every direction. That’s when she realized that she had been hit with lightning. Black lightning. Her mind was beginning to clear enough for her to see the other people surrounding her, but no one stood out more than the King of Dragons who looked down at her, pure electricity rippling off his armor.

Luka’s cries slowly ebbed and finally her body relaxed. Slowly she stood up, using the wall to brace herself. The rude guard was out-cold and the other guard had backed away to the opposite wall. The crowd that had gathered gave the King a wide berth. Lightning licked the ground around him as he stared her down.

He didn’t say anything and Luka was very aware of the eerie hush that had fallen on the area’s viewers. What was he waiting for? What did he want from her? The idea of those blacksmith’s came back to her, wanting to a light a fire in her. Her nose crinkled in disgust and for the first time her entire life, she screamed. It was a guttural cry, an angry cry. The kind that would cause most people to waver in battle. But at that moment the only feeling she had was agony and despite the pain her body was in from having been blasted by the nation’s most powerful individual, her attention turned to him as both a threat and a hunt. Everything else in her vision went black and the only focal point was the King of Dragons.

She watched his eyes widen. Was it shock, was it surprise? It was enough. It was the sign she wanted. She rushed forward, two short swords already in her hands from within her cloak. There was screaming. She could hear screaming but everything was in slow motion at this point as her mind went in crystal clarity. Laon, to Luka, was a mark. Prey. She leapt forward toward him, rearing both blades backwards as a snarl escaped her lips.

Luka was fast. She knew she was fast. She had no idea what was happening but everything was instinct and instant to her. Luka didn’t need to think, only to act and respond. This made her believe she was ready for anything that Laon might throw at her. What Luka wasn’t counting on was despite his armor and larger frame, Laon was faster. She didn’t see the lightning when it hit her. She just knew that from beneath her, her body was racked with enough power to throw her yards up and into the ceiling where she crashed, only to fall back to the stone floor after. Luka didn’t see the black lightning or feel it, but when the world went black suddenly, she was well aware that she lost.

#chronicles of an elf #fantasy #original story #elves #fiction #original #writers on tumblr

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umichenginabroad · 5 years

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30 Hours

That’s how long I’ve spent on a bus in the past two weekends. Those 30 hours though were accompanied by 3 beautiful Spanish cities: Malaga, Granada, and Barcelona. This post will actually only be 15 of those 30 hours and follow my trip to Malaga and Granada. The beauty of having Madrid as homebase is that it’s smack in the middle of Spain so you’re pretty much equidistant (give or take a few hours / how much you want to spend) from major cities. For me, I don’t mind a bus ride for a couple of reasons: first, you get to see a ton of the countryside in Spain which is spotted with mini mountain ranges and expansive farmland, second, it’s usually about a third of the price of a train and a fifth the price of flying, and third there are tons of different times so you can easily maximize time in cities by taking super early or crazy late buses. So to those traveling abroad in the future, don’t overlook the power of the bus!

The first weekend consisted of spending two days in Malaga and a day in Granada with two friends from Michigan. Looking back, we should have spent one in Malaga and two in Granada after realizing how much there was to do in Granada, but we still made the most of our time in both cities. Both cities are in the south of Spain and have lots of influence from different religions like Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. Malaga is a coastal city and is a hot destination for both Spaniards and Europeans in the Spring and Summer. We spent our first day checking out the Alcazaba and Roman Theatre as well as meeting some locals at a rooftop bar who took us out with them to some of their favorite Friday night traditions: Futbolita (Foosball).

Our second day in Malaga we spent a solid two and a half hours at the Picasso Museum located where Picasso grew up and did a lot of his work later in life. The extended time we spent there was mostly due to the audio guide tour which gave really cool insights and stories behind many of Picasso’s pieces and took you through how Picasso developed his iconic style. It instilled a deeper appreciation for the creative genius that Picasso was and the skill he curated over his lifetime. After the museum, we spent the day lounging at the beach and yes I did go swimming even though the water was about 55 degrees and I didn’t have a towel.

Then came Granada. What a whirlwind of a day. We started off with an early two hour bus ride that got us into Granada around 10 am. We realized that the only way to actually be efficient or even get tickets to things like the Alhambra was to buy a tour pass which included a walking tour of the city and a ticket to the Alhamabra which we purchased at the bus station. We proceeded to uber to the center of town and grab a quick bite to eat in a plaza which was a surprisingly delicious breakfast. We met up for our walking tour at noon and were hyped to see that it was just the three of us, a really cool tour guide named Gregor, and one other girl. The tour went through the old Arabic quarter of Albaicín who’s rich history is defined by the narrative of Granada’s great Moorish period and the upheaval of the Christian reconquest in 1492.

Our tour was completely in Spanish and we were all pretty damn proud of ourselves for understanding the majority of the tour and even answering some of the guide’s questions. By the end of the two hours, we were all hanging out at the top of the Albaicín drinking sangria... So I have to admit it was the probably the best tour I’ll ever go on. After the tour, we had about 4 hours to see the Alhambra and uber back to the bus station to catch the bus back to Madrid.

We raced to the Alhambra, sped walked the grounds, took some pictures, paused to take in the view and history, and finally called an uber back to the station. The last leg of our 15 hour weekend was about 5 hours which consisted of a few card games and a much needed nap.

Tim Azzolini

Industrial and Operations Engineering, University of Michigan University Pontifical of Comillas Winter 2019, Madrid, Spain

#UmichEnginAbroad #IPEmadrid #TimAzzolini #IPE Winter 2019

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emilyslifeinlondon · 7 years

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Tuesday May 9-Sunday May 14 Woohoo, today's the day Mary comes!!! After graduating from UConn on Sunday the 7th, Mary unpacked all of her college belongings only to re-pack for London. A few of the many things we did over the last 5 days: -Stonehenge 🗿 -Sketch -Oxford St 🛍 -Westminster -Platform 9 3/4 -Bowling w CIEE 🎳 -Afternoon tea at The Orangery 🍵 -Matilda 🔮 -221B Baker St -SSE Women's Cup Final ⚽️🏆 I took the tube to Heathrow and ended up picking Mary up at her terminal. I (as well as the Heathrow staff) was confused about whether or not a flight from Dublin was considered international or not, so I stood on the opposite side of where I was supposed to be until Mary texted me saying she had collected her luggage and was waiting. She also said she hadn't gone through customs and wasn't sure if she should go back in. I was shocked since border control is quite strict in the U.K., but since Dublin isn't considered an international flight, Mary had technically gone through customs in Ireland. We took the tube back home and went straight to King's Cross/St. Pancras to board a train to Salisbury, en route to Stonehenge! The train ride was about 1 1/2 hours and before we knew it, we were in Salisbury. We boarded the Stonehenge tour bus (it takes about 10-15 minutes to get to the Visitor's Center) and got to listen to some audio that gave us more information about the site and neighboring town. We hopped off at the visitor's center and grabbed a quick bite to eat. I got a steak pie which was delicious, and Mary got a sandwich that she really enjoyed! We picked up our tickets and boarded a golden bus to the actual rocks. The ride was short and once we got off the bus, the rocks were only 100 feet in front of us. I had heard that the audio tour was something worth getting, so we had our little telephone like sets and made our way around the area; since the ground isn't stable enough to support thousands of people, you can't actually walk through the rocks, but you can get pretty close. We listened, took a break sitting, snapped lots of pics, and had a great afternoon! We spent some time in Salisbury and went to The King's Head (pub recommended by the bus driver) for dinner and I got tomato soup and (spicy 🌶) wings. We boarded the train back to Waterloo in London, and only 15 minutes later I couldn't find my phone. I went through my whole backpack and checked under my seat and it wasn't there. I was panicking and knew it had to be at the train station since I had used my phone for directions from the pub to the train station. We got off at the next stop and had to wait and excruciating 40 minutes for the next train back to Salisbury. I ran through the station back to the bench we had been sitting on before we got onto the train and my phone was sitting right there where I had left it. God, am I lucky or what?! It's safe to say I had a good night's sleep that night. We got back to London an hour later than we had anticipated and went right to bed. The next morning we met up with Christine and Amanda at Sketch, a fancy restaurant in London right off of Oxford street. Sketch is known for its pink tea room and egg pod bathrooms. I had toast and bacon for breakfast which was good but nothing special. After waiting until the tea took opened, we finally made our way to the iconic bathroom. It was so cool! I accidentally used the men's side but how can you really tell when the pods all look the same? We took lots of pics and then Mary and I walked around Oxford and Bond street. Mary bought some Chelsea boots and Schuh and I got some tanks and a pair of jeans at New Look. I also got a waffle with chocolate sauce, strawberries, and Nutella ice cream which was delicious! I had class in the afternoon, so Mary went to the British Museum which is conveniently right across from CIEE, where I have class. We went to Pizza Union for dinner and then headed to Chinatown after for bubblewrap, basically ice cream in a waffle. The line wasn't too long, maybe 25 minutes or so, and the dessert was so good! I was surprised by how tasty the waffle was- it was sweet, warm, and soft. We walked around Chinatown/Soho for a little bit but it was chilly so we headed back to Chapter afterwards. On Thursday morning I had class, so Mary slept in and went to the British Library (only a 5-10 minute walk from Chapter). We explored Westminster, walking by the London Eye, Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and ended up at Buckingham Palace after walking through Saint James Park, enjoying all of the birds and ducks. After getting off at King's Cross we waited in line to get our picture at Platform 9 3/4. Mary and I got our jumping pic. We were both exhausted and rested for a few minutes before walking back to CIEE in Bloomsbury for the farewell dinner. We met up with everyone and walked to dinner which was at a bowling alley! We were served lots of small appetizers ranging from crab cakes, pulled pork sandwiches, fried chicken on skewers, and fried mac & cheese balls. I had a handful of pulled pork and chicken as well as a beer and 1/3 a (fruity & delicious) cider I shared with Mary. After eating, we all picked teams and started bowling. Although I hadn't been bowling in some 5-10 years, I was better than I thought I would be. There were no bumpers, and I ended up with 70. Pretty bad but I was happy I actually knocked some pins down. We were exhausted after waiting some 20 minutes for the tube home. Since it was the last night everyone in the program would be together, we all went out. Mary decided to stay in, and as much as I wanted to join her I knew that I would have regretted it had I not gone. I also had a lot of tequila and a whole bottle of wine that I didn't want to waste. Our group basically took up half the dance floor at some point, and we got 2 free shots since they overcharged me at the door. That morning Mary and I got afternoon tea at The Orangery. I wasn't able to make my 9 am class, but don't worry, it was only a walking tour and James had said that it wasn't mandatory. I had book an appointment for 11:15 am, but they didn't start afternoon tea until noon, so we had something small to hold us over until 12:00. I got some Royal something (I forget the name, lol) tea and it was delicious! I never used to be a fan of tea, but I enjoyed it the last time I was in London two years ago. We had little sandwiches, scones, and desserts. They portions are tiny but with all of the food you're sure to be full at the end. After tea, we walked around Hyde Park for a bit before heading to Harrods. I wasn't able to go the last time I was in London and although I can't afford anything in the department store, it was cool walking around and starting at all of the chocolates that cost £90 a box. We headed back to Chapter afterwards and rested for a few minutes before walking back to the GI for my last class! We just watched some British news comedy show for an hour or so before he ended class early (thank god). We met up with Christine and Rex at a pub nearby for fish & chips before heading to Cambridge Theatre to see Matilda. Matilda is quite new to the stage and everyone at the ticket office had said that it was wonderful and that they highly recommended it. I'm not sure where to begin by describing the play, I'll start by saying that it was somewhat strange but in a good way. Some of the music numbers were fantastic and the choreography was well done! Most of the cast consisted of children, and Miss Truchbull was played by a man. The play was very funny at times and the actors that played Miss Trunchbull and Mr. Wormwood were perfect for the role. We also got some Oreo McFlurries after the show! It was so stressful packing the night before moving out but thankfully Mary was able to fit a good amount of my winter clothes and jackets into her suitcase! After scrambling around to fit three month's worth of stuff into a mere two suitcases and a backpack, alas I got the suitcases zipped by sitting on them! However, my large suitcase was a jaw dropping 72 lbs! I was dying laughing. How did I possibly accumulate more than 25 lbs worth of stuff?! I bought a few jackets and clothes, but I didn't think they would have amassed a shocking 25-30 lbs. Who knows. We left our bags behind the front desk and walked around Covent Garden, where we got brunch at a cute diner. I was exhausted after getting about 5 hours of sleep, so thanks to Mary's suggestion, I got a mocha to help wake me up. I was surprised that I liked it! We both had a great breakfast and proceeded to make our way to the Covent Garden market area. Mary had some Ben's Cookies (so delicious & gooey) and then we took the tube to Baker Street (221 B) aka the Sherlock Holmes door. We got our pics and then headed back to Chapter to grab our bags to check into our Airbnb. Silly us, we took the tube and DRL with all of our luggage when we should have just taken an Uber and paid the £20some pounds it would've cost. Lugging my freaking heavy suitcase up and down stairs at the tube stations was a nightmare. Luckily, some people helped me out a lot by carrying my large luggage for me since the lifts were under construction, of course. We finally checked in and had a little while to rest before leaving for Wembley Stadium. We had ticket to see the SSE Women's FA Final Cup! I had hoped to go to a premier league men's football game but either the game was too far away or too expensive (£250+ per ticket). Regardless, we were both really excited. It took a while to get there since there was so much traffic, but we made it a few minutes after the game started. When they announced that Carli Lloyd had scored one of the goals for Manchester City against Birmingham, Mary and I turned to each other in shock and I quickly googled her to see if it was indeed her! We love watching the World Cup, and both love the USA Women's Soccer Team! After finding out that Carli Lloyd was playing on the field only 50 feet in front of us, we were a lot more engaged and excited. During halftime, we got hotdogs (mine was a pulled pork dog) and were surprised that halftime was only 15 minutes or so. The final score was 4-1 Manchester City v Birmingham, and the game brought in a record crowd of over 35,000. We got ice cream on the way back at a gas station (there were no restaurants/ice cream shops near the Airbnb) and hung out/packed since Mary was set to leave early the next morning. 6 am came all too early when we had to wake up, and learning from our mistake, we took an Uber to the airport. I dropped Mary off at her terminal, said goodbye, and walked to the next terminal to wait for Emily to arrive! It was a whirlwind of week with Mary! We did so much in only 5 days, didn't get enough sleep, ate a lot of food, saw Stonehenge, and had an amazing week! I was so glad (and really excited) that I got to share a place so important to me with my sister.

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