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equallyshaw · 4 months

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ᴅᴀʏ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʜᴏʟɪᴅᴀʏꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜɢʜᴇꜱ- ʙᴀʀᴢᴀʟ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ - ᴍᴀᴛ ʙᴀʀᴢᴀʟ x ᴏᴄ ʜᴜɢʜᴇꜱ

part of holidays with equallyshaw

warnings: none! just angsty and sad :( - but happy ending !

word count: 3.7k+

also oc hughes is 28 going on 29. so two in a half years older than mat.

social media edit.

ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ 5 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ɴᴏᴡ, the hughes brothers, barzal children, both sets of parents, and the barzals have gotten together in sunny california to spend their few days off together. miranda 'randy' barzal is a content creator and an og vlogger from back in the day on youtube. for the past 5 years she's vlogged their time as a family and it has been an absolute success, even doing a summer series as well, during the offseason.

what could this holiday get-together bring?

❅

"hey guys welcome back to vlogmas, i hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season so far! i know we've had a very busy one and we've loved every minute of it! today we are traveling from long island to orange county, so you'll see some of our chaotic travel! mat will be meeting us in orange county tomorrow morning after a red eye from carolinas. without further ado, lets get this show on the road!" she squealed into the camera, before turning it off. her fake smile quickly dropped, and she felt her nausea grow stronger.

she pushed it aside once she heard her eldest child, marie coming into the room with her baby brother, theo. "hi guys. you guys excited to see grandma, grandpa and nana papa?" she grinned, pulling them onto her lap. they nodded, "yeah grandma and grandpa gives us chocolate." theo gushed, and she giggled thinking about how her kids at her parents wrapped around their finger. "well mama and papa are picking us up soon with tie tie so we can go to california." miranda explained right as the doorbell went off, and then she heard the voices of mat's family echo throughout the townhouse.

miranda pulled out her vlog camera and marie quickly took it and began to make faces and that made miranda giggle, and then liana came into the frame and made them as well. theo came over from across the airport lounge, from his babbling with nana and papa. theo made grabby hands to miranda and she pulled him up. "where are we going marie?" miranda questioned as marie flipped the camera towards her mom. "californiaaaaaa!" she yelled into the camera, and miranda did her best to shoosh her. "inside voices baby." she said pulling some hair out of her daughters face, but she pushed her mom's hand away. liana giggled, and took the vlog camera, moving it out in front of her so all four of them were in frame. "barzal hughes holiday commences!" liana grinned into the camera, while marie made jazz hands and theo bobbed up and down on mirands lap.

"hey guys, our flight is boarding." mat's mom said walking over to help with the kids. "time to go guys!" miranda softly smiled.

she would be lying to herself if she wasn't dreading this holiday get-together.

❅

the minute she walked into the beach house that they rented this year, she felt herself sigh. her parents had gotten there a bit earlier and were quickly engulfing the two kids into big hugs. "im gonna take these upstairs, ill be down soon." miranda said to mat's parents, and they went to go greet her parents. she felt herself on the verge of throwing up, and she quickly dropped the bags and went straight to her and mat's ensemble washroom. she let out as much as she could, and groaned.

she knew what she had to do.

she pulled out her toiletry bags and then pulled out her vlog camera, setting it down on the counter. even if she didn't put this out, she thought she'd get a little bit of footage. she sat down on the toilet, staring daggers a the pregnancy test. she sighed, putting the cap back on and putting on a timer. she turned on the camera, "well looks like things are shaping out to be a bit different this year. i just ended up taking a pregnancy test. typically with my past pregnancies, i deal with sickness throughout the day and not in the morning, and I've been feeling like shit the past few days so i thought, why not?! ill check back with you guys as soon as the timer goes off!" she said before turning off the camera. she headed back into the bedroom, and pulled her kids suitcase into their room, across the hall. miranda felt her phone buzz, and she pulled it out to see a message from mat. she responded back, letting him know that they had made it to the beach house.

after taking out her suitcase dividers, her phone went off. she grabbed the camera and turned it on, filming herself from the chest up. she looked down at it, and gave a weak smile. she didn't even bother looking at it yet, just letting herself cry a bit. it was the first time all month she'd let herself be vulnerable on camera. her and mat had been having a rough patch. it was like one thing after another this season, and now that the holidays had rolled around - she wasn't thrilled about putting on a fake smile 24/7. this wasn't the first rough patch in their 8 year relationship, it was just the worst one thus far.

she wiped some tears, sniffling as she smiled. "its been a hard holiday season and its just, been a lot recently. mentally especially, and this whole what if does not help." she said, chuckling at the end. she breathed in and out deeply, before picking up the test that was upside down. she felt her heartbeat begin to pick up, as she saw the positive result. "and we're pregnant!" she said softly, turning the test around. she sniffled staring at it, and smiled back at the camera. a weak one. "well! that's quite the surprise." she paused chuckling, "we'll pick this back up in a bit." she finished, and turned off the camera. she texted her mom quickly, asking her to come see her.

a few minutes later there was a knock on the door. ellen walked in and shut the door behind her, and then quickly walked over to her daughter. who as soon as ellen's arms wrapped around her, she was falling onto her knees. she sobbed into her mom's arms. "whats going on sweetie?" she questioned, rubbing her daughters back. she sniffled, pointing back towards the washroom. ellen stood up, and saw the test on the counter. she didn't react like one usually would, instead she could read the situation with her daughter. she knew how her and mat had been doing recently, and could tell this pregnancy was just adding an extra toll on her.

"oh sweetie." ellen said wrapping her arms around her again, "he's gonna think this is a 'fix it' baby, an attempt to keep him. he's gonna think i did it on purpose-" and ellen cut her off, "no he wont. i promise. i promise." she said trying to reassure her daughter. if there was one thing about mat, was that he always thought the best of everybody and every situation- this wasn't gonna change that.

❅

the next morning around 6 am, she felt the bed dip next to her. she didn't feel mat get closer to her, she didn't feel his arms around her, she knew there was a nice amount of space between the two. and that made her silently cry. she threw off the covers, threw on her cotton robe, and headed down the stairs with her phone. mat looked up at the door once it opened and heard footsteps going downstairs. he sighed following her.

she turned on the camera, filming the expresso machine intently. she heard somebody walk in, and she jumped seeing mat. he knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep now, so he pulled out a mug as well to make coffee. she stayed silent as she flipped the camera towards her, "its about 6 am now, i just woke up for the day and right now its all about getting some coffee and food in me, before i go check in with the kiddos. and then I'll see where the morning takes us. probably will involve some pancakes, courtesy of grandma and grandpa hughes." she grinned before turning the camera back off.

she took her cup of decaf and headed outside to the deck, and mat knew that she was brewing. he knew that her silent treatment was for a reason and that he was in for one. his expresso finished, and he followed her outside. he sat down across from her, as she looked out at the ocean. "how was the flight?" he questioned, and she shrugged. "same old same old. thankfully your sister and parents were with us. that helped." she said sipping some expresso. mat nodded, "is everything ok?" he questioned a few minutes later. she sniffled, "has anything been ok recently?" she spat. he sighed, "i really don't have the patience this morning, we'll talk about this later." she said through strained tears. she stood up and walked back inside and upstairs.

mat stayed downstairs, and shut his eyes in frustration. the glass door slid open and he heard the patter of small feet coming running towards him. "daddy!" marie screamed and he quickly pulled the two of them in his arms. "did you miss daddy?" mat questioned, and they both nodded. "are you guys happy to be here for christmas?" mat asked and the two screamed. "morning voices lovies, please." he said and the two nodded pulling a finger to there mouth to shush each other. he smiled, and they then got more comfier. their heads rested on his chest as his mom came out. "hey mama." he said and she smiled. "hi hun." she said sitting where miranda had just sat. "is everything ok with miranda?" she questioned and mat shrugged. "hey kids, why don't you go see papa in the kitchen...i heard he's making pancakes with grandpa!" his mom said excitedly, and that was enough for the two to run off.

"no seriously, whats going on with miranda?" she asked and mat's eyebrows crinkled, "i don't know what you're getting at." he said, annoyance lacing his words. "last night she spent two hours with ellen up in your guys' room. ellen then said that it was a bug but you and i know damn well what her pregnancy symptoms are." his mom explained, and mat was dumbfounded. when the hell would she have been able to get pregnant? then he remembered, they had a fight back during american thanksgiving, and a little bit of wine had one thing leading to another. "i also know there's a lot going on between you to but please don't make her any more upset than she already is. you know you can be a real piece of work, right?" his mom asked and he rolled his eyes. "got it mom." he said picking up his cup of cold expresso, and heading inside.

back upstairs, she had filmed herself doing her skin care and getting changed for the day, but found herself just sitting at the vanity not doing her makeup like she had planned to. she knew she had to get a move on so they could have breakfast as a family and then head to the beach. she didn't have to look behind her to see who had walked into he room. mat sat down on the bed, his back facing her and she bit her lip. she turned off the camera, and began to put some light makeup on. anything to cover up her anxiety and trembling hands.

"are you pregnant?" he blurted, and she stayed silent. he turned back towards her, "are you pregnant?" he questioned again and she still said nothing. mat sighed, standing up, and headed over to the washroom. he began to look through her things, and in the drawers before he found what he was looking for. he stared down at the positive pregnancy result, and miranda felt like she could vomit. she sighed, spraying some setting spray before standing up. "miranda..." he said softly, and that made her stop in her tracks. she turned back towards him, and she saw the tears pooling in his eyes. she swallowed, waiting for him to say something but he didn't. she nodded, before heading downstairs with her phone and camera.

she took that as his reaction.

she walked down stairs and heard her brothers in the kitchen. her kids laughed loudly, at whatever their uncles had said. "hey sis." luke said stepping over from a few feet and hugged her. "hi." she said softly, before quinn made his way over. "hey q." she said as he pulled her in for a hug, then jack walked over as well. "randy." jack said giving her a longer hug, and then stepped back to his niece and nephew. "wheres mat?" quinn asked drinking his starbucks coffee. "he's upstairs." she responded. she checked with them before turning on the camera, and videoed them a bit with luke offering her the most content to work with. quinn just stared at it with an amused look while jack pushed it away playfully before taking over, while him and luke caught the audience up on what they had done recently. then jack got on the kid's level and talked to the camera with them. miranda made herself busy helping her dad with the pancakes at the stove, hoping that time would pass quickly.

jim stared down at his eldest child, the one who had always been the strongest and most determined, who seemed so lifeless and oh so weak. she gave him a weak smile before she heard mat's voice echo through the kitchen, as he went to go greet the brothers. she swallowed hard, turning around holding a plate of pancakes with a fake smile.

❅

after a whole day of recording at the beach, the hughes and barzals headed back up to the beachouse while ellen and jim had just gone to a restaurant for a traditional Jewish dinner. tomorrow, would be the typical american christmas dinner. but a hughes tradition, was to have a traditional meal on christmas eve. once the kids were sent to bed after eating, she'd be able to shower and then edit the vlog from that day.

they all piled into the dining room, the kiddos going wild over food as they were famished. also, grandpa hughes and papa barzal had promised a little bit of dessert beforehand. and now they were being rewarded, for waiting. back in the kitchen miranda began to get the sippy cups ready with juice for the kids, and while she was putting the juice back mat walked into the kitchen. the two hadn't had a quiet moment between them since that morning, when he didn't say anything about the test.

he was bold and wrapped his arms around her from behind, making her freeze. she was about to shove him off when he spoke. "please...let me have these few seconds. then we can talk once we put the kids down." he whispered close to her ear. she leaned back into him letting him cloud her senses, before grabbing the sippy cups and walking out of his arms. mat sighed as she walked out of the room, and he cursed himself for being so bold.

dinner was going to be interesting.

❅

it was around 2 am when she finished up her vlog, and she ripped off her blue light glasses and set her laptop down on the coffee table. she stretched when she stood up, and then headed upstairs to bed. she didn't think mat would be up, but he was. he was reading a book she had picked up a few months back. "was wondering when you were gonna come to bed." he said as she slid into bed. she shrugged, rubbing her face.

"i didnt purposely get pregnant, if you were wondering." she stated and his eyebrows crinkled, "what? i was not thinking that and i would never think that, ever randy and you know that." he said as he put his book down. she shook her head, "i don't know what to think anymore mat. with the way you've been treating me recently has been hard. its made me question everything." she whispered, and he quickly pulled her into his arms.

"we've lost our way thats all, but its not the end for us randy i promise. don't give up on us. we'll get through this." he said. she sniffled, "i want this to work mat i really do, but i don't know." she said full on crying now. mat rocked her a bit before joining in himself. he couldn't lie and say that these past few months had not been a toll. he did his best and worst thinking on roadtrips, and being alone in a hotel room did not help. "i don't want to give up on us miranda, i don't. i know that I've done a lot over these past few months, i know this but im not ready to give up on us or our family." he said and she looked up at him. her blue eyes wide and full of worry.

"let me take some time off, let me take the next month off. let us work on us-" she cut him off, "i cant ask you to do that." she said shaking her head. he shook his head, "you arent asking, im volunteering. our relationship and family mean more than hockey. you guys are more important than hockey, always." he said placing a hand behind her head. she nodded softly, and he leaned in to kiss her. she softened, pulling him in closer by the neck.

❅

around 7 am the next morning, the door of their bedroom opened and then two sets of small feet tapped against the floor before they jumped onto the bed. mat woke up first, tickling marie making her laugh which then woke up miranda. ellen walked in after peaking her head in with the camera recording, catching a sweet moment between the family of four. theo jumped up and down between them, trying to get them to move quicker- just so they could open presents. "wake up wake up wake up!" marie screamed, joining her brother in jumping. mat and miranda just laughed, watching as they did so. "morning baby." mat whispered, as miranda leaned in to peck him. ellen smiled softly before miranda took the camera from her and videoed the two kiddos jump off the bed and follow their grandma out the door. "we'll be down in ten." mat said and ellen nodded before shutting the door.

she made her way to the washroom, setting up her tripod and proceeded to brush her teeth, hair and wash her face. as she was brushing her teeth, mat came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. she leaned back into him, and he pressed a sly kiss to her neck. she grinned before cleaning up her chin from toothpaste. "do we tell them?" he questioned, and she nodded. "we'll announce after all the presents are done?" she questioned and he nodded kissing her passionately. "you're not gonna be able to keep your hands to yourself mr, are ya?" she grinned, as his hands slowly made their way to her butt. he clicked his tongue, and shrugged. "oh god, you're already horny aren't you?" she rolled her eyes playfully before kissing him once more. "lets go, too bad first trimester dictates everything." she hummed walking towards the door, leaving a groaning matt in her wake.

❅

the tripod had picked up the present unwrapping, and miranda had been ansty the whole time. she just wanted to tell them. "okay mat and i have something to announce." miranda after getting their attention. the hughes brothers all looked at one another, while ellen and him looked at each other. all the while the barzals looked at one another. they were unsure of what was going to be announced.

a divorce or separation...they couldn't decipher.

mat took miranda's hand in his and smiled widely, "we are expecting." miranda announced and the family were stunned for a brief few seconds before rushing over to congratulate them. quinn pulled her in for a big hug, then it was luke and then she would hug jack later as he was spinning the two young kids around in circles. "you two ok?" mat's mom whispered as she brought her in for a hug. "yes! we'll be more than ok." she responded and his mom nodded.

after talking for a few minutes, breakfast was to be devoured. miranda took the camera, and mat came and wrapped an arm around her from the side. "well looks like that will be all for this vlog! apparently, there's footage from my brothers on here and ill be sure to edit whatever is salvageable but were gonna have a full day on our hands, and spend some quality time with one another but ill be back after new years with some exciting news! see you then, and until then its miranda barzal, lets get the show on the road! but as always, happy holidays from the barzal-hughes family!" she smiled widely, and then mat kissed her on the cheek, before she stopped recording.

"ive texted my agent about the next month, its final." he said and she sighed, as he pulled her in for a hug. "this needs to be done, i cant push it off anymore." he said and she nodded pulling back just a bit so they were now looking at each other.

"merry christmas honey, thankyou for our little family and thankyou for your work on being the best husband and father for me and the kids. we are forever grateful." she smiled widely, before leaning in for a kiss.

"yo barzal, what do you mean you arent playing us next month?!" they both heard jack scream from the kitchen causing the two to pull away and chuckle. marie and theo both ran towards their parents, as christmas music started blasting throughout the beach house. mat picked up marie while miranda picked up theo.

a precious moment shared between the small family, only to be ruined by jack and luke coming in to ask mat a million questions about mat apparently chickening out on a rival rematch.

hope you all enjoyed!

tags: @cuttergauthier @jayda12 @dancerbailey3 @jackhues @toasttt11

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froggymarsh · 2 months

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hello scu enjoyers here's a little r!charlie with cg!schlatt yesyes. it is set in a zombie apocalypse so trigger warning for non-graphic mentions of zombies and also a gun! i dont describe any blood or gore or anything dwdw - also maybe slight unreality for the line "was any of that real?" near the end

hope u enjoy <3

“Oh, hey Charlie.”

Charlie’s head snaps up, meeting the eyes of a charming man standing behind the pristine counter of a little hole-in-the-wall bar that Charlie has never seen here before. His buttoned shirt is crisp, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he polishes a glass with a red rag. His apron is black and stainless. His hair is curled, his beard is groomed and well kept. His eyes are brown, and he smiles at Charlie as if nothing is wrong with the world.

“H-hey,” Charlie stammers. He looks up at the walls, the iron bars lining the entrance. He doesn’t remember walking inside, but here he is. The floor is strangely even, no plants, no rocks, no cracks. The groans of the infected outside seem so far away. “Hey- how do you know my name?”

The man’s smile does not change. His eyes flicker from brown to gold and back again. Charlie glances around the room. The light of the torches set in the walls is not comforting in the slightest.

“So,” the man sets the glass aside, slings the rag over one shoulder, and braces both arms on the counter. “Milk or juice?”

“What?”

“You look like you could use it,” he answers, simple as that. His fingers tap along the countertop. “Milk or juice?”

“What is going on, dude, how do y-”

“Milk,” he interrupts, eyes flickering again. Charlie shuts his mouth as the man’s expression changes just so, like a mountain challenging a pebble to a battle of might, or a sun backhanding a star out of the sky.

Then the man smiles again, simple as that. “Or juice?”

Charlie grips the straps of his backpack, a pebble, a pebble, a pebble. The groans of the infected feel like a hazy memory. He takes a step towards the counter, strangely uneven on the even ground.

“Juice, please,” he murmurs, taking a seat on one of the stools. It’s plush, comfortable, with a bar at the bottom for his feet. He swings them instead.

“Good choice,” the man praises, "now,” he laughs, “maybe this one’ll getcha. Bottle or cup?”

Charlie blinks. The mountain looms on the other side of the counter, with an amused smile on its face.

“Cup,” he answers, softer than he means to, but he can’t help it when he feels like a pebble, maybe all of four years old. The room gets hazy at the edges of his vision.

“Now, now, Charlie,” the man scolds lightly, almost teasing, almost stern, amused all around, “I think we both know the correct answer here.”

Charlie frowns, eyebrows furrowing. Was that not it?

“Cup, please,” he tries again.

The man tsks. “Charlie…”

He says nothing.

The man sighs.

“Tell you what, kiddo,” he leans over, sliding the glass easily off the counter and stowing it away underneath. He fishes around for something else, his smile still charming, his expression warm but oddly intense. “We’ll compromise.”

He returns with a dark green sippy cup with a light green lid. Two and a half hearts decorate the side, glaring up at Charlie. He looks away as the man retrieves another bottle from somewhere else. This one has a golden apple printed on the side.

“‘fraid apple juice is all we’ve got.”

Charlie shrugs. Apple’s fine.

The man smiles as he pours it, screwing on the cap and sliding it to him when it’s full. “Knew you’d be a good sport about that.”

Charlie wraps his hands around the sippy cup. It’s the perfect size to hold like this. His shoulders sag in relief, oddly comforted by this little bit of plastic.

“You’re doing so well,” the man praises. Charlie can’t help but preen at that a bit, turning the cup in his hands but not yet taking a drink. “I’ll step in as needed, but it’s quite honestly remarkable just how far you’ve come.”

Charlie tries to smile at him, tries to show he’s grateful.

The man chuckles, reaching over the counter to ruffle his hair. Charlie ducks away, swatting at his hand.

“Alright, well. You better scram, kid,” he reaches under the counter again, this time producing a gun. Charlie blinks. The haze in his head fades as he whirls around, spots five infected approaching. How did he not notice them getting so close?

“I’ll hold them off,” the man’s voice raises dangerously as he storms out of the bar with his gun, seizing Charlie’s collar and dragging him out with him, abandoning the bottle on the counter. He shoves him one way and fires the gun in the other, “go, kid. Go!”

Charlie stumbles, unsteady, but runs. He runs, ducking between infected and swerving around buildings and runs, fast as he can manage as they follow, running, groaning behind him, and he runs, and his foot catches a stone and he falls and he rolls and he-

When he comes to, the sun is rising.

He jolts upright in bed. He’s home. He’s safe.

His jacket is pristine. There’s new patches on the elbows. There are no scuffs on his armor. His legs are fine, his heart is beating regularly, nothing is sore.

Cradled in his hand is a green sippy cup, decorated with two and a half hearts on the side that glare up at him.

He swallows.

Was any of that real?

He turns it over. There’s nothing inside, though taped to the bottom is a messy, scrawled note.

Keep it, it reads. Signed with a simple, -J

#mcyt agere #froggy drabbles #raaaarararararrrrr....#i gotta finish the video....#idk how to trigger warn so lemme know if you think this needs somethin else #I DIDNT MOVE OVER MY TAGS FROM MY FIRST DRAFT OF THIS. so im doing it now. nobody will read them but it's important to me that theyre here #something about trying to be comforted but everything is awful and uneasy and no matter how hard you try you just. can’t.#not vent regression not play regression but a secret third thing #i was saving this interaction for somethin else but i’ll use it here skdkfjf

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natty-light-of-my-life · 8 months

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the most famous restaurant supply store in manhattan

restaurant supply store au. natasha romanoff* x reader meet-cute. featuring clint, kate, and steve.

i love each and every coffee shop/florist/bookstore au on this website, but why does no one ever write a reader au set in that little restaurant supply store you walk past but never enter???

*nat doesnt come in until the end of the fic but it still counts.

Writing a resume is hard, you admit to yourself, when your current employer could only name his restaurant supply store, located on Canal Street, “Canal Street Restaurant Supply”. Not even a “the” for even an ounce of distinction. Take, for example, “The Ohio State”, “The Metropolitan Museum of Art”, or “The Way You Will Never Pay Off Your Student Loans”. Something with a bit of je ne sais quoi.

Anyways, the dingy pseudo-warehouse you work in has little to offer beyond minimum wage. You can’t even use your very generous five-percent employee discount because, well, if you owned your own restaurant, why would you be working here? On the bright side, though, the shop rarely gets customers. At least, not during the afternoon shift. Most customers pick up their goods in the morning before their restaurants open. The shelves of pots, pans, and teapots collect dust as you surreptitiously mark up your latest resume draft with a red pen.

“Oi, shouldn’t you be dusting the shelves, English?” calls out a voice from the basement. The basement is where they store the big crates of pots of pans that aren’t in the big crates on the shop floor. The basement also houses your boss’s office.

Jimmy, your boss, calls you English because 1) you severely overpaid for a bachelor’s degree in English at NYU and 2) unlike your Chinese-American coworkers, you can only speak your native English.

“I just dusted yesterday!” you shout back. Capping your pen, you slide your redlined resume under a stack of handwritten invoices next to the cash register.

“You should dust every day,” he responds. His neatly brushed black-grey hair pokes its way out of the stacks of bowls lining the shelves. “This place attracts dust like my son attracts unsuitable boyfriends.”

“I think Kevin’s suitors are quite nice,” you say, in defense of your friend.

“Tsk,” Jimmy replies, “Nice to look at maybe. Why can’t he choose someone with a job? Or a nice family?”

You grab the Swiffer from under the desk and get to dusting the teapots, “I don’t know, Mr. Jimmy. Jobs are overrated, I think. Look, I’m dusting a teapot.”

He pauses and straightens the collar of his shirt. “And you dust the teapot very well.”

You nod.

Jimmy clears his throat, “I have to go deliver this shipment of dining plates to a customer this afternoon. Will you be okay here for a few hours while I’m gone?”

You make a point of turning your head and surveying the empty store. You nod.

“Good. Good,” Jimmy says. “Kevin will be by after his shift at the office.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Jimmy.”

“Call me if you need anything!”

You shake your head gently as Jimmy leaves with a heaving crate of plates in his arms. Ever since the Battle of New York, Jimmy has had an irrational fear of the Hulk tearing up his humble restaurant supply store. But things have been calm in this part of the city for years. You think your boss is a bit silly.

You yelp as a spatula nearly misses your head by a few inches. Eyes wide, you look behind you at the metal spatula, vibrating with the impact of impaling your favorite lucky cat statue. Its waving arm had dislocated from its cat-body.

Well, at least it isn’t the Hulk?

Let’s rewind a bit. Not even five minutes after Jimmy left with his delivery, the front door slammed open again. Thinking it was your boss, you poked your head out to look and immediately regretted it. A group of guys, wearing peculiar red tracksuits sped towards you, yelling indecipherable commands. You didn’t even have time to scream before they grabbed you and snarled in your face.

“Where are they?!” one demanded.

“Yeah, bro,” another echoed, “We know that brat is here somewhere.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” you yelped, kicking your legs futilely at them.

“The Bishop bitch!” one unhelpfully clarified.

You continued to wriggle helplessly in their grip.

"Wait, bro," one grunted, "Are we on Catherine Street right now?"

You stopped struggling.

The other tracksuit let you go.

"No, bro. The sign says Canal Street," said the first guy.

"Yeah. How do you not know what street you're on, bro? Not very New York of you…"

"Lay off, bro!" exclaimed the confused one, "...I'm from Michigan, bro."

What the fu-

"Hands in air, tracksuits!" yelled a different, younger voice. A girl?

All three bad guys turned towards the new faces. It was a young woman, wearing a lot of purple, and holding… a bow? Next to her, an older blonde man sighed deeply and reached for his utility belt.

From the purple tights and do-gooder attitude of the girl, you clocked the duo as good guys. Avengers? Whatever, you took the moment of distraction to run out of the grasp of the tracksuits.

Luckily for you, they didn't pay you any attention. You managed to escape behind the counter and cower in the space under the register. Unluckily for Jimmy and Canal Street Restaurant Supply, you could hear all of the inventory crashing to the ground and shattering into tiny pieces. You heard the sound of the bad guys grunting in pain and the thwp thwp of arrows finding their marks.

Now, there's a spatula embedded in a poor plastic cat statue. You feel yourself shaking. You duck your head down again and dissociate, probably, while the fighting continues.

Eventually though, sirens come blaring towards you. The only other sound you hear is whispering between the heroes and the pained groans of the, presumably, incapacitated bad guys.

"Hey…" comes the voice of the purple girl, "are you okay? You can come out now."

You warily grab the edge of the counter and pull yourself up. The shop is completely fucked. Porcelain shattered into glitter on the ground. Pans pelleted with arrows. A guy holding his thigh, a puddle of red… Fuck-

The last thing you hear before you black out is a gruff, "Aw no!"

You come to with a jerk. The first thing you hear is your pounding heartbeat echoing in your head. Wait. No, it's coming from around you. A heartbeat monitor. You snap your eyes open and a blinding light glares at you. Your eyes snap shut. You're in a hospital?

"Hey, hey," soothes a raspy voice. It's familiar. "You're okay."

You open your eyes, slowly this time. The light above your bed has been dimmed. You hear your heartbeat slow down.

You turn your head towards the voice, ignoring the throbbing in your skull. A pretty redhead smiles at you.

What the hell is Natasha Romanoff doing in your room?

"Oh, so you do recognize the Avengers," the spy muses, "Clint will be livid. I love it."

Whoops, were you talking out loud??

Natasha Romanoff - The Black Widow - grins at you.

Your hands fly to cover your traitorous mouth. You shut your eyes again in embarrassment. The heartbeat monitor audibly speeds up. You groan loudly, in pain. And in mortification.

"Kill me now," you mutter into your palms.

Warm hands take your hands in hers. You freeze, but Natasha gently peels your palms from your mouth.

"Can't do that, darling. Steve would not approve."

She's teasing you. You nearly pass out, again, at the thought of Steve Rogers knowing who you are anyways.

You slowly sit up, and the other woman helpfully places a pillow behind your back. You thank her and ask, "Is Captain America here?"

"Oh, she knows about Captain America, too."

Despite your hospitalized, traumatized, and increasingly flustered state, you manage to roll your eyes, "Of course I know about Captain America. You can tell Clint Barton he just needs a better marketer, if he wants more attention."

Natasha laughs, looking at you with a fond smile. "I can't say we go looking for attention in this line of work."

You shake your head dumbly. She laughs again and you feel your breath catch. Actually wait-

The infamous Black Widow barely has time to shove a pan under your chin before you lose the contents of your stomach. And the last of your dignity.

At that moment, Steve Rogers sticks his head into the room, but immediately backs away at the scene. "I'll, uh, give you two ladies another few minutes then…"

You groan. What a terrible day.

Natasha Romanoff pats your back and hands you a tissue.

Well, you suppose, it could be worse.

Your phone lights up with a call. It's Jimmy.

Fu-

#natasha romanoff x reader #fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #meet cute

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midnightbabylon · 1 year

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Play With Fire

Part One

summary: Your boyfriend surprised you with a romantic weekend in Northern California. Only he didn't expect his car to break down in Charming. As if that wasn't bad enough, he sent you down the road in the dark to the Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop. Just there you ran into a forbidden handsome man who could be the answer to all your problems or your downfall.

pairing: jax teller x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: violence, swear words, domestic violence, more language

A/N: First Jax Teller series because lately I started watching SOA and I am obsessed! with this man. When I tell you this man is so fine!! Damn.Enjoy : ) Also I really wanted this to be a bit slowburn so there will be more parts don’t worry ;)

But if you can‘t read stuff like this please skip!!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

The first chords of Life is a Highway sounded from the radio and you couldn't hide your smile. You loved that song. Your forehead was leaning against the cold windshield of the truck. Silently you began to shape the text with your lips before Kian suddenly barked, “Could you stop that?!”. When he suggested this trip yesterday morning, you thought he might get back on track, but right after that reaction, you knew he'd never get better. A romantic weekend in Northern California, how thoughtful. Why do you think he used that excuse? How could you survive such a long drive if you couldn't even sound your favorite songs with humming? You kept looking out the window and rolling your eyes so he wouldn't see it. “How long are we still on the road?” you asked cautiously. Kian sighed and looked at the small screen, which was the only light source in the car. “We still drive through this strange town called Charming and then turn to the hut.” Less than five minutes later, you passed the giant tree disc with the name of the city. It was only dimly lit, yet you had to smile. “Funny, did you see? Our name says it all.” Smiling, you looked at your boyfriend who was just staring out. You dropped your head against your seat and looked at the houses and the countryside. You could just read the sign of an automotive repair before the car went further towards the outskirts of town. Just when you wanted to be sad about leaving the sweet city there was a loud bang and Kian slowed down before he parked on the side of the road. “Shit!” Confused, you looked over to him. “What was that? Was that the tire?” Angry, he looked at you and you backed away. Then he got out and slammed the door before he ran to the back of the car. Nervously you chewed on your black-painted fingernails. A short time later, Kian was back in the driver's seat breathing loudly. “The tire is fucking junk and I don’t have any spare in the trunk.” You squeezed your fingers nervously. “There was a car repair shop earlier.” you point your finger backwards. “Maybe they’re still open.” Kian hit the steering wheel hard and you had to jerk automatically. “Okay. Go and ask if they change the tire for us no matter what price.” You looked out the window in disbelief. It's pitch black out there. “It’s dark.” “And?” Kian asked, and you watched how his jaw muscles tightened.

The last time you disobeyed his orders, you had to put makeup on your blue eye for the next four days. “Okay okay I’ll go.” When you got out, you pulled your jacket tighter in the cool air and walked back a few miles at the side of the road. You kept blowing warm air into your hands. The nights were very cool although California is actually so warm. After a felt eternity you finally saw the yellow-red sign: Teller - Morrow Automotive Repair. One of the three gates was only half open, so you ran quickly towards it. Before you could look in, a man came out who just put a glowing cigarette in his mouth. You two stumble back a few steps. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” you said quickly and couldn’t help but look. The blonde hair was covered under a cap. He was wearing black jeans with white Airforce. Your gaze flew up and you saw the black hoodie and the eye-catching coat. He seemed to be in some kind of club or gang. “Everything’s alright, but we are closed.” he put the cigarette back between his lips expressionlessly. Your heart sank to the ground. “Really? It’s an emergency.” nervously you looked back to the street. “What happened?” he asked calmly. “The truck ... so our truck. The tire has burst and we have to change it.” He blew a cloud of smoke into the night and surveyed you. “We can change the tyre tomorrow morning. No important appointments have come in yet.” Shaking your head, you looked back to the road. “You don’t understand. The tire has to be changed today. He’ll pay you whatever you want.” He casually pushed himself off the wall and came towards you. “Honey, you’re very nervous. What’s going on?” Before he could touch you, you took a step back. Kian would immediately notice that handsome guy's perfume and punish you for it.

“Please! Can’t you make an exception? I’ll get in trouble if this isn’t done today. ” Actually, you didn't want to be so honest, so you took a breath when you noticed how quickly that confession came over your lips. The blonde man across from you pulled his eyebrows together. “Okay, I’ll take a look at that. Prospect,” he shouted inside. A skinny guy with a similar coat came out. “Come with us. We might still have something to do today.” Relieved, you audibly breathed out air. "Thank you." The two men then followed you to Kian's location. When he noticed you with the escort, he also got out and looked at the two men suspiciously. ��There are supposed to be problems here?” Kian crossed his arms and pointed to the tire. “It has to be changed,” he said stiffly and pulled forward. He put an arm around your hip and you tried to keep a straight face. “We can take the car with us and change the tire by tomorrow morning when we have all the parts.” he turned his cap on his head and looked at the tire. “Isn’t that possible tonight? We still have something to do.” Kian grinned disgustingly and the sloppy guy looked embarrassingly touched into the darkness. “Now listen Man,” said the handsome blonde guy, whose name you still didn’t know. “The store is closed, I can only offer you to do it first thing tomorrow. I know a place where you could stay for the night.” You gave Kian a look and he talked for a few minutes before the Prospect pulled up with a tow truck. Kian watched every move of the mysterious mechanics and then his truck was loaded. “Do you want to go with me?” the little weakling asked you and before you could answer Kian did it for you. “We’ll walk to your shop alright.” You pressed your lips together and the long-haired one held on to the side of the tow truck and drove off. When you arrived at the right place , a middle-aged woman stood beside the two gentlemen.

“Hi, I’m Gemma. I’ll show you the place to sleep for the night. If you need more things, you can still get the stuff out of your car. Kian looked at you briefly before he got in with the young man, exhaling loudly. “Honey, if this guy gives you any trouble, call me,” muttered the woman, whose breasts were pushed higher than an 18th century maid. Impressive, even you had to look. You took the file card in your hand and made it disappear into your bra before Kian could see it. Gemma smiled at you and took you and Kian to her car. Behind you came down the big gate with a rumps and then you already sat in the dark Cadillac. The trip was short and you were dropped off at a nice little house. “You can stay here for the night. Nobody will bother you, my guest bed is freshly made.” Uncertain you looked at the beautiful decor. “Oh, we can’t accept that. Isn’t there a motel in town?” Gemma turned to you smiling. “Yeah, honey, but that’s shabby and you don’t want bedbugs.” Kian put an arm very tightly around your shoulder and pressed you against him, a sign that you'd rather keep your mouth shut. “That is very courteous and kind. We will return the favor. Thank you for your hospitality.” You said thank you quietly, and Gemma left and left you alone in the little guest room. “Can’t you even let it go? God every time you drive us further into shit. Be glad we don’t have to go to a filthy motel in this goddamn place.” Kian knocked the bag over in anger and his wild look hit yours. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “Yeah you should be sorry!” he yelled and hugged your face tightly that it hurt. You squint your eyes and he let you go. “I’m going to take a shower, see if you can find something edible.” You felt uncomfortable at the thought of ransacking Gemma's kitchen, but you still went to look. The fridge was empty, but you saw a small order card from a restaurant called Lumpy's Restaurant. You quickly pulled your smartphone out of your pocket and asked if they still had an open kitchen and if they would deliver.

At the same time Gemma arrived again at the Sons clubhouse and lit herself a cigarette. “I don’t like this guy from the little girl.” Her son Jax raised his head and swallowed his last sip of beer. “The couple from just now? Where did you take them?” Gemma sat down with a whiskey in her hand. “Yeah them… I took them to your house. I won’t let that girl go to the motel with that creep. Something’s wrong with them and I bet it’s because of that little cock sucker. She’s scared in his presence. ” She shoved the whiskey down her throat. “Mom they’re leaving tomorrow morning, why does the well-being of that girl matter to you?” Gemma pulled her cigarette and nodded. “You’re right. ”

“Kian, please,” you whimpered and hot tears ran down your cheeks as you squatted in the corner of the room. “Little bitch, you can’t do anything right.” the beer bottle smashed over you against the wall and glass fell down on you. You're lucky he didn't hit you this time. God, you couldn't show yourself in front of these helpful people tomorrow when Kian destroyed everything in his drunken rage. How many times have you wanted to escape from this relationship and couldn't. You've been with this man for five years now, and the first three years went great. He was kind, courteous, and he would never hurt you. Ever since someone flirted with you at a New Year's Eve party and Kian started the biggest fight in town, he hasn't been the same. He could never let you go anywhere alone without thinking someone else would snatch you away from him. He smelled you to find out men's perfume, even tracked your car and your cell phone and controlled everything else you did. Twice you wanted to break up, move out of town and start a new life without him. And every time, he'd sneak up on these plans and beat you so hard, you couldn't even go to the hospital. He nursed you at home and apologized to you crying and vowed never to do something like that to you again. And now you're crawling back to the ground, wishing it was all just a dream. The restaurant had delivered a false pizza, and then he was just looking for more reasons to destroy this room and you. “That blonde asshole from the workshop just wanted to fuck you! And I bet you wanted to fuck him as well, you little bitch.” He tore your hair and forced you to look at him. “Please! I didn’t want to fuck him. You’re the only man I love and look at. Your are the only man that fucks me.“ Your head flew violently to the side and your cheek burned from its blow. ‘Bullshit.’ Even through his closed teeth, you could see his spit fly. “I’m sorry, please! You have to believe me.” You had your hands folded in a prayer position. “Get up,” he murmured threateningly, and when you didn’t react immediately, it pulled your arm roughly upwards. “We’ll get out of here in the morning and you’ll never waste a thought on this town and this man again.” After he let you go, you rubbed your arm and went to the bathroom. Your eye rings were clearly visible, just like the red spot from the slap. You'd have cover this up tomorrow if it didn't go away on its own. After an extended shower, you put on long clothes and went to bed with Kian. He was watching TV with a new bottle of beer in his hand. “Is there another one?” he asked sharply, holding the beer in front of you. “I’m going to check.” Tomorrow you'll have to replace the six-pack. After Kian had finished his last beer, he fell asleep drooling on the bed. You couldn't sleep, so you cleaned up the room and scrubbed the wall so you couldn't see the beer stain. After you had scrubbed the bathroom and the carpet it was only a few hours until the supermarket opened. Frustrated you drove through your hair and also disposed of the garbage and packed the bag so far back together. Punctually at 7 you bought the exact beer and also got provisions for the ride and some breakfast. Kian was still asleep, so you put on your makeup and had a cup of coffee. At 8 o'clock Gemma was there and honked. Less than two minutes later, she was in the hallway saying hello. Her blonde streaks in her dark hair were kind of a calming sight, because Kian wouldn't dare do anything now. “Thank you for driving us back to the automotive repair shop. I’ve put a little something in the kitchen to thank you, and I’ve already done the laundry.” Gemma smiled. “Oh, honey, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” “Okay,” Kian threw in and raised both of his hands and you took a step back, just out of reflex. Gemma gave Kian a murderous look and then walked you to her car. During the ride, she checked your face through the rearview mirror. You felt her look and you were afraid she might see through the make-up.

Kian strolled straight into the garage without saying thank you and watched as his truck was being worked on. Gemma moved into a small adjoining house and gave you a cup of coffee in a shabby mug. “He hurts you, doesn’t he?” Your hand would have started to tremble without the cup. “You don’t have to lie, honey, I’ll see that.” she seemed almost shaken as she lit a cigarette. “How long has it been?” You started shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. Please, he can’t know that we are talking about such things.” She made a derogatory noise. “He’s busy. And I’ll make sure it stays that way.” Uncertain you were chewing on your lip. “Do you have a toilet?” she nodded and showed you the door. Gemma took the chance and all you could hear was her heels rattling over the asphalt. She leaned against Kian's truck while Jax was changing the tire. Jax gave her a puzzled look. “What kind of romantic hut are you going to? Have you been there before? Can you recommend it or not? Sounds really good.” Kian inspected her strictly. “This is our first time, but it looks promising.” Gemma smiled and Kian's gaze wandered down to her blouse. That motherfucking dick, thought Gemma. “Oh yeah? No more huts around. It’s good that no one hears her screams when you hit her, isn’t it?” she blew the smoke of the cigarette towards him and Kian tightened his shoulders before he bent dangerously toward her. Jax was standing within an blink of an eye. “Stay back, that’s my mother.” Kian now looked at him threateningly. “And she should hold back about what she says,” he growled, and your voice broke through that staring. “What’s going on here?” “Nothing is going on here. It was just a misunderstanding, was it?” Kian cleared himself and stepped back a bit. “Yes, I think so too. You don’t want to mess with us.” At that very moment, a handful of bikers drove onto the site and parked in a row. They also wore the leather cloak with the reaper on it. “Can I talk to you for a second?” your partner asked and his wild eyes made you swallow nervously. “What did you tell that bitch?!”, he asked indignantly as he had dragged you a few feet behind him. “Kian they are watching us,” you said softly and he noticed the many pairs of eyes that were all directed at you. “I’m still waiting for an answer,” he muttered. “I didn’t tell her anything, nothing at all. She gave me a coffee and then showed me the toilet.” Kian braided his teeth like a rabid dog. “I believe you now. But I’m telling you.” he raised his hand and pointed at you. “If I find out you lied to me, then you wish you never met me.” He ran past you back to the car and you muttered quietly in front of you: “That’s what I’ve already wished for.” All of a sudden, Kiran was like a changed man, and he stormed at you from behind. Immediately Gemma was on alert and many heads that had already turned away looked back in your direction. “What was that you little whore?” Kian clapped and pushed you hard to the ground. Your cheek scratched the floor and your lip burned before you felt something liquid run over it. Stunned, you put a finger on your lip and stared at the blood. “EY.” sounded a lot of voices and the click behind Kiran made him freeze. “I thought you didn’t want to mess with us,” muttered the handsome guy with a gun drawn and loaded. Gemma was right there and helped you up. “Is everything okay, honey?” Your lip started to tremble. He had never lost control in public and especially in front of complete strangers. “No, it’s not okay.” Tears were burning in your eyes and you looked at Kian. “You’ve gone too far. I’ve been keeping you company for years and letting you do everything you do to me. But now that fucking stops. Fucking strangers? These people were watching us. You’ve gone mad.” Laughing, he looked at you and spat on the floor in front of you. “You’re crazy. I put up with you for five years!” Your hand slipped and it clapped loudly across the yard, which brought in some “ohs.” from the men. ‘You piece of shit.’ Gemma introduced herself to you. “Beware your tongue.”

Kian grinned dangerously. “What are you going to do about it, bitch?” Gemma pulled out and it cracked loudly while your boyfriend screamed in pain. “Take advice from a mother. You should leave town and never see that girl again. Do we understand?” Kian nodded and held his nose. “Get your things out of the car.” she gently pushed you towards the truck. After you took your things and the keys to your apartment, the men pushed Kian into the truck. “Our relationship is officially over. Have a nice life.” Gemma rubbed soothingly over your arm as you watched Kian drive off the compound and never come back. “Should we take you somewhere?” asked the good-looking blonde. “I’d like to go to the motel in your small town,” you said quietly. He gave you a black helmet and then took you to the Rogue River Motel on his motorcycle . “Thank you.” smiling, you took off the helmet and gave it back to him. “No reason. Oh, I’m Jax just by the way.” Smiling, you turned to him. ‘Y/N.’ Then you went to the entrance of the motel. “Nice to meet you Y/N.” he shouted after you and winked at you. “Don’t make me regret meeting you, Jax Teller.” The last thing you saw was his fat grin before you closed the motel door behind you.

#jax teller imagine #jax teller #sons of anarchy #samcro #jackson teller #jax x reader

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goldencherriess · 2 years

Text

Memories of you || Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: After losing Eddie, taking a trip down memory lane always hurt. Good thing you have a friend beside you.

Warnings: loss, grief, angst, Stranger Things season 4 spoilers and fluff

Masterlist

You weren't sure for how long you stood there, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, blinds down, door locked. It must have been hours. Days? Weeks?

It didn't matter. Time was of insignificance. The world could move on, skies could start falling. It all didn't matter. Time had stopped moving forward the moment he drew his last breath. Eddie wasn't longer there, nor were you. A ghost of what you used to be.

The home phone rang. You didn't make a move to pick it up. Light came streaming through the blinds, shadows dancing on the ceiling. You watched them. You wished they could swallow you whole. At least then you could put a stop to the pain that made a home in your chest.

Knocking.

"Y/N? Please, I know you're in there!"

You sighed and got up from your bed. Sneaking a glance through the blinds, you saw a mop of curly hair and a hawaiian shirt. For a moment, you didn't move. You drew in a shaky breath and went to the front door. The knocking didn't cease. It just kept going like drums. "Please, open up, Y/N!"

And you did. Dustin's face came into your view. By the looks of his puffy, red eyes, he also seemed like he had been crying. He was affected by his death too.

Relief painted his face, an unsure smile settling on his lips. ''Y/N...''

You crossed your arms, but didn't bother smiling back. ''Hello, Dustin. What can I do for you?''

He ignored your question. There was a hesitance hidden in his eyes, an unspoken worry and sadness behind them. ''You haven't been answering your phone.''

''I haven't been hearing my phone.''

That was a lie. You had. Multiple times, actually. But you just left it ringing throughout the whole, empty house.

Dustin didn't press on after that. He fidgeted on the spot, his sneakers scraping the worn out, white wood surface of your porch.

''Why are you really here, Dustin?''

He hid his eyes under his cap, not really meeting your gaze. ''We're really worried for you, Y/N.''

You spared a look behind Dustin, not seeing anyone but him. ''Who's we? I only see you.''

He took his cap off his head, sighing. ''Eddie wouldn't want to see you like this.''

His name hit you like bullets. The air was knocked out of you and you found yourself taking a step back, feeling tears threatening to spill. You shook your head, strands of hair falling down your eyes.

''And I wouldn't either! We're friends, aren't we? Please, let's just talk?''

Dustin took a step towards you, his pleading eyes boring into yours. ''Please?''

You gulped down a sob, nodding your head and closing the door behind you. With a wave of your hand, you invited him to take a seat on the couch that was perched on the porch. It was full of dust, you didn't really had the energy to clean it. Its orange color stood out against the white of the house and there was a wire sticking out of it. The couch had seen better days. And so did you.

Dustin took a seat on the far end of it and you followed his example, the couch letting out a whine when you sat down. The air between you was thick with silence. Dustin kept playing with the cap, his legs jumping up and down in a nervous manner, while you just stared straight ahead, hugging your figure. A chilly wind left goosebumps on your arms in its passing. It made your hair flutter too.

Dustin's voice broke the heavy silence. You almost forgot he was there. ''I miss him, too.''

Your eyes got misty and your throat was closing up. ''I know'' you answered in a broken whisper.

''He talked about you a lot.''

You turned your head toward him. ''He did?''

Dustin left out a guttural laugh. ''We got bored by it at some point, but yeah, he did.''

You let a smile climb its way to your lips. ''He talked about you a lot, too. I think you were his favourite, Dustin. The genius kid.''

''He told you that?''

You laughed. ''Yeah, he did. Henderson did this, Henderson did that.''

The boy giggled. And there was silence once more, heavy like a storm cloud, like the shadows from your bedroom. You got up. ''I have to show you something. Stay here, I'll come back in a sec.''

He nodded, once again playing with his cap. Your legs were slightly shaking from the cold, but they walked with purpose now. The wooden floor creaked under them.

Your room really was a mess. You didn't observe that until now. You went to open the blinds, letting the light to chase away the shadows. Crouching down near the bed, you pulled a box from under it. Dust covered it in thick layers. You blew on it, the particles snowing all around you and getting in your eyes and down your throat. Letting out a cough, you got up and ran outside.

You found Dustin sitting patiently on the couch with his head in his hands. On the sound of your steps, he raised his head and met your gaze. His eyebrows furrowed when he say the brown and battered box. ''What's that?''

You sat down, this time next to him. ''This is a box with all my memories with Eddie. Care looking through it with me?''

''You bet!''

Dustin took out a Black Sabbath record. ''I didn't know you listened to them?''

You laughed, shaking your head. ''I didn't. Still don't. Eddie does. I mean, he did...''

If he noticed your present tense mistake, Dustin chose to ignore it. ''He left it at your house?''

''No. He bought it for me. That's how I met him actually.''

A smile formed on your lips, a long ago scene forming in front of your eyes like an old movie.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The record store wasn't busy this time of day. Monday mornings were quiet and uneventful. And even though you had a Spanish test in two hours, you chose to ditch the first two periods of school. Physics weren't your favourite, and nor were Maths. How could some people enjoy them was beyond you. Dustin kept trying to explain them to you, but you gave up after his fifth attempt. What was the point anyway? You knew you were still going to fail them.

Your feet carried you to the heavy metal section. You weren't a fan, not really. But your brother was. And the only way to buy his silence to your parents that you were failing Maths and Physics, was to buy him some Sabbath record. Your fingers worked through the hundreds of records, too stubborn to ask the employees for help. When you finally recognized the band's name, you took it, holding it to your eye level.

''That's some good taste, I must say.''

You turned around. A young man with warm eyes and curly, long and caramel hair smiled at you. He stepped next to you, taking the record out of your hands. ''A fan?''

His silver rings shone in the light and you found yourself staring at them. When you didn't answer, he spared you a look, a smirk painting his features. ''Are you?''

You met his eyes, bewildered. ''Am I what?''

His smirk grew and he leaned on the stand besides him. ''A Black Sabbath fan.''

You furrowed your brows, letting your hands fall limply. ''Oh. No.''

''Then let me introduce you to the sparkling world of Black Sabbath. It's wild and alive! A fantasy of sounds and chords! An epitome of guitar symphonies!''

His eyes came alive with sparkles of joy and his hands gestured wildly at all the records. ''If not Black Sabbath, then something else. We have something for everyone. Maybe you like AC/DC? You strike me as an AC/DC girl.''

You interjected him. ''No, I meant to say that I don't listen to heavy metal.''

His hands stopped mid air. ''No? What do you listen to, then? He added with a smile, dimples showing: ''Any recommendations?''

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling very shy. The young man bent to see your eyes, the Black Sabbath record still in his hand. His smile drew you in, warming your insides. ''Well, I... I love ABBA.''

His eyebrows shot under his bangs, but the smile remain etched on his lips. ''ABBA?! You love that whole Mamma Mia cliché?''

You laughed, rocking on your feet. ''It's not cliché! It's really good, okay? It puts you in a good mood!''

''So does heavy metal! The thrill! The rush!''

You shook your head and smiled up to him. The wrinkles by his brown eyes he made while smiling made you feel fuzzy inside, a warmth that travelled from head to toe.

''Tell you what. I give ABBA a try, but only if you give Black Sabbath a try and we meet up to share our thoughts on them.''

You tilted your head to the side. ''Are you asking me on a date, mister?''

He took a step closer to you, putting a hand in his back pocket. ''Depends on your answer. Would you say yes?''

''Sure. But only for the music.''

He wet his lips, still smirking. ''Then it's a date.'' He hastily added: ''I didn't catch your name.''

''I didn't throw it.''

He laughed, crossing his arms and shaking his finger at you: ''Ah, I see! You're a funny one.''

''And you're laughing. So, it works. The name's Y/N.''

He bowed dramatically. ''My maiden, Y/N. Pleasured to make your acquaintance. I'm your ever loyal knight, Eddie.''

You curtsied. ''The pleasure is all mine, my knight.''

When you met his eyes again, you knew the next time wouldn't be the last time you'd see Eddie.

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''Sounds like Eddie!''

You sadly smiled, while looking at the record. ''Yeah, it was Eddie alright.''

Dustin took out a set of three photos. They depicted you and a silly Eddie, who couldn't sit still for the life of him. He stuck out his tongue in one of them. ''When did you take these?''

You took them out of his hands, feeling tears forming in the corner of your eyes. ''Oh, these were taken on our presumed date. We found a photo booth.''

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Starcourt Mall was bustling with people and you were standing on your tiptoes to find a certain curly, brown haired boy in the crowd. The colors and the noise were making you dizzy.

''Looking for me?''

His voice sounded so close that you flinched, turning around. You met his chest and took a step back.

''Hey, hey, it's just me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.''

This time he was wearing a denim jacket over a flannel shirt. The same rings caught your eyes again, they sparkled a silver light and you found yourself wondering if they were cold to the touch. You met his gaze. His eyes smiled at you, warm chocolate in the afternoon.

''Happy to see me?''

You cheekily smiled up to him. ''Ah, well, you know, just a chance encounter.''

His eyebrows shot to the top of his head. ''Just a chance encounter? Then, I should call myself lucky.''

''You definitely should.''

For awhile you didn't say anything, just stared at each other. His warm gaze drew you in and you could even smell his cologne. It reminded you of the Hawkins forest, woodsy, but fresh. There was also a dash of cigarettes to him. ''You smoke?''

''You don't?''

''Nah, not on my taste.''

He nodded. ''Right, right. Like Black Sabbath. You're an ABBA girl.''

''You read me like an open book, Eddie'' you laughed.

His dimples showed up. ''Yeah, well, after listening to that Mamma Mia cliché, I can safely say that Black Sabbath still rocks.''

''Stop calling it that! It's not a cliché. And no, it doesn't, although I kinda see the appeal.''

He bent closer to you, whispering to you. ''Just say you're a fan and we can settle this.''

You shook your head. ''Not happening.''

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a photo booth. Your face lit up and you grabbed Eddie's hand, already dragging him there. ''Look, a photo booth! Let's take some pics!''

Eddie let you carry him there, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. It was warm and sweaty, and for a moment he wondered if he was making you nervous. If he was the reason for your hand feeling clammy in his. He threaded his fingers through yours, giving you a squeeze. ''You dig that?''

Your brain short circuited and your steps slowed down. ''What?''

You could hear Eddie's smirk in his voice. ''The photo booth.''

''Oh. Right! Yeah! The photo booth!''

Eddie pushed the booth's purple velvety curtain aside and gestured you forward with his free hand. You got in with him following you. His fingers twitched in yours and you tried fixing your hair with your own free hand.

''Oh, come on. You look beautiful already. No need for that. Just smile and say cheese or whatever.''

A rush of blood climbed up to your cheeks and you tried to smile to the camera.

''That's no smile, sweetheart.''

You could closely hear him, next to your ear. His breath touched your cheek in waves and you felt like you might combust right then and there. His fingers touched your waist and started tickling you. Your laugh filled the booth and a flash went off, immortalizing the moment.

''Now that's what I'm talking about!''

You looked to him, while he looked to the camera, sticking his tongue out and making the rock sign with his hand.

Another flash.

He turned to look at you. His eyes boring into yours burned you. The feeling travelled through your whole body, lighting you up. A shiver went down your spine. Eddie pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaving his fingers there a moment longer. He then cupped your cheek.

''Is this okay?'' he whispered.

You silently nodded your head. You knew what was about to happen. With a bit of luck, Eddie might kiss you. And with a bit of luck, you wouldn't freeze on the spot.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. His warm breath fanned your cheeks. He smelled of cigarettes and coke. And you were drowning in him.

Flash. It blinded you. Eddie backed off from you, leaving the cold air to linger between you two. Suddenly, you felt empty.

He got up, a lopsided smile etched on his face. ''Let's see the photos, shall we? After you, my maiden.''

He dramatically bowed like he did the first time you met him. You threw him a smile of your own and left the booth.

The photos were small, but colorful. Intimate, almost. You picked them up, your thumb caressing them.

''You can keep them. I'll have the memory.'' said Eddie, still holding your hand and smiling softly to you.

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Dustin didn't say anything for awhile. He just kept looking at the photos. Your cheeks were wet of silent tears by now. The wind nicked at your bare shoulders, but you didn't make an effort to cover them up. You just let the cold envelop you.

Your friend started rummaging through the box on his own and took out a guitar pick. ''Was this Eddie's?''

You hastily wiped your tears. ''Yeah. He tried teaching me how to play guitar once, and he gave me his guitar pick. As a token, I think.''

''Did you learn how to play guitar?''

You laughed through tears. ''No, absolutely not. I was a wreck.''

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''So, you see, this is C minor.'' said Eddie while demonstrating on his guitar. ''Easy.''

You snorted. ''Yeah, right. Easy for you, maybe. Eddie, I have never played guitar before. I don't even know how! What makes you think I will now?''

He stopped playing and threw you a look. ''Because now you have me. I'll teach you.''

''What? No. I suck at playing any instrument. I can't even sing!''

''Oh, come on. Just try.'' He pulled you by your hand towards him on the bed. You sighed taking a seat next to him. Eddie handed you his precious, electric guitar. He guided your hands on the chords.

''Okay, so put that finger there, and this one here. And then, pull on the strings.''

Your fingers twitched. You tried listening to him, but the proximity made it quite difficult. His cologne, once again, got you drunk. His words were passing by you, in static noises. Eddie put his ringed hand over yours and helped you play the chords.

''See? You're a natural.''

You turned to face him. His brown eyes sparkled under the dim light of the lamp. ''I had a good teacher.''

He let out a breathy laugh. ''Really? I'd love to meet him. How's he like?''

You hummed, pretending to think. ''Well, for starters, he's very kind. And fun. He brought me out of my comfort zone. Made me listen to some heavy metal band.''

''He sounds great.''

''He really is'' you whispered.

Eddie sighed, leaning gently his forehead against yours. ''I'd like to kiss you. Would that... would that be okay?''

You cupped his cheek. ''Yes.''

He closed the distance between you. His lips were chapped, but warm. You could feel a trance of cigarettes and coffee on them. It made your lips tingle and vibrate. You brought him closer to you, tangling your hands in his hair. You were high on a feeling you had never felt before.

Eddie pulled away, lingering his forehead against yours. Your ragged breaths filled the quiet room. You were still basking in what just happened, when he started laughing. ''Did he also teach you to kiss like that?''

You giggled, pushing his shoulder away in a jokingly manner.

Eddie reached into his black and faded jean's pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. ''Look, for you. Something to remember this moment by.''

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''And you kept all of those things?'' asked Dustin.

''Yeah. They're all I have left of him.''

He shook his head, touching your shoulder. ''That's not true. You have the memories. The moments. Y/N, Eddie would hate to see you like this, wasting away.''

A lump formed in your throat and you tried swallowing in vain.

''I mean, I hate it too. You're one of my bestfriends, Y/N, do you know that?''

You nodded your head, meeting Dustin's blue eyes. ''You're one of mine, too.''

''Then, let me be by your side.''

You went in for a hug and Dustin wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. Your silent tears turned into sobs, then into cries. You were wetting his hawaiian shirt, but Dustin didn't care. He felt his own eyes getting misty. A tear trickled down his cheek and chin. The wind carried away your cries across Hawkins, the woods and Lover's Lake, leaving scars in its passing. But no amount of winds would erase the pain that stained itself onto your heart the night he died.

''Do you think things would have been different, if I were there with you and Eddie?''

Dustin fell silent for a moment. ''I don't know. But Lucas needed you.''

You let out a broken laugh. ''Yeah. That Jason was a total douche.''

He didn't reply, he continued to hold you. ''I think I'll donate all of those things. There are others in a much more dire need of them than I am.''

You felt him nodding against your head. ''Okay.''

''But I think he would have liked you to have this, Dustin.''

You broke the hug and searched through the old box. You put in Dustin's palm two D&D dice. They were an iridescent purple and they shone in the light.

Shocked, the kid met your eyes. ''Did he give you those?''

You softly smiled at him. ''That's a story for another time.''

''Thank you, Y/N.''

You nodded, not replying, instead encircling his shoulders. Silence fell over both of you, the sun dipping under the horizon with the promise of tomorrow.

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A/N: thank you so much for reading! Writing this fic was a rollercoaster of emotions. It's Eddie Munson missing hours, I'll forever be mad at the Duffer brothers for killing him off.

This is my first Eddie Munson fic, so any kind of feedback is welcomed, be it a like, a comment or a reblog! If you'd like to be added to my tag list, please let me know by sending me an ask or commenting under this post. Much love xx

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things volume 1 #stranger things volume 2 #stranger things #angst #fluff #stranger things spoilers #writing #writeblr #my writing #masterlist #laura writes

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yutasbimil · 2 years

Text

Sleepyhead

asahi x fem!oc | haikyuu ff. (time-skip!older asahi) [one-shot] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: fluff, slight angst (not really), smut cw: nsfw minors dni, minor plot, fingering, oral, deepthroating, swallowing, size difference, [aroused, deprived and hormonal ppl lol], established relationship, unprotected sex, FLUFF!!! D; note: not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, tho no specific characteristics are mentioned on the fem!oc so pls feel free to imagine as y/n or YOU ♡ word count: 4.4k

do not repost © yutasbimil (2022)

Why doesn’t my boyfriend want to go down on me?!

‘Why can’t he just go down on me?!’

Her thoughts are running for miles, following along with the tall man speeding around the court. The image of him drenched in sweat and shirt sticking painstakingly close to his lean body made the girl want to toss a towel at him, give him water to hydrate and all the same want to tighten the said towel around his neck on how irresistible he looks.

She never had lenses towards him like this ever, not till recently.

Asahi’s radiant expression contradicts Aoi’s frustration with him… He always seems to blind me with his smile.

Her inner turmoil is not noticeable in her softened face. Maybe that’s part of why her boyfriend is not noticing her concern.

It’s more on me needing to hydrate and calm down though. She held onto the towel resting on her damp hair.

“You just got here, Ando-san! Why the long face?” Noya greets the girl, Aoi Ando, as blue as her name can be, but she still turns to the guy with a bright smile. She lifts the refreshments she carried coming here, and she cracked open the cap for him. “School can be tiring y’kno? Though, I still need to wait up for you guys and Asahi-chan!”

Noya gets the extra bottle from her hand, pointing behind him.

“He’s still finishing up some spikes, it won’t take that long for our Ace to get the hang of things!” He grins, earning a nod from the girl, she wasn’t able to fully turn and peek through the gym door as she felt her body numb.

She stretches her body, an evident pain in her face as she reaches for her back. That is part of her frustration, another ache and itch she cannot reach. Curse the hormones.

As if on cue, some firm limbs took hold of both her arms, lifting her whole body to crack free her aching bones. As Asahi puts her down, she looks more relaxed.

Aoi already knows his touch by heart.

“Sankyu, Asahi-san.” she pecked his cheek, a sight all too familiar for the others. Noya grins, looking at the two, more amused how Asahi could still turn red at the shorter girl’s greeting.

Noya is reminded of the scene just now, like a replayed record… the kiss left quite an impression on them.

Aoi Ando is the same year as Asahi and the others. And it’s quite a while since they have been together. Ever since the games last spring, she crashed into Asahi and then pecked his cheek, a bit too excited as they won. Much to the taller male’s surprise, even the high jump of the girl made him carry her. But what made his brain short circuit is that kiss.

The drop of sweat is not just because of the tiring aftermath of the game, but on how the two even comprehend what just happened.

The redness of the taller male’s ears and face spread all throughout, it even made the others blush due to too much shock.

That made them confess, and from then on started dating.

But it isn’t much since he made a move on her intimately. Sure, he had been soft towards her, as a big softie he’s always been. The same with her, she likes where their relationship is going. The soft skinship melts her enough to the core. But anything else, it’s honestly frustrating her.

Fast forward now to her dilemma at this very moment.

Though it isn’t obvious to her seemingly demure demeanor.

Aoi yawns, her eyes are slanted gazed upon him. To her knowledge, she feels his eyes towards her. But she at least thinks: can’t he lose control and go down with her sooner?

It just translates to her being pouty and sleepy, making Asahi think of her adorably.

“That got you relaxed?” He massages her back. She sighs, mewling a bit as he moves to a sore spot. “Y-yeah… way too relaxed.” She leans into him, letting out another teary yawn.

It isn’t a surprise that she’s the sleepy type of person, even on how much she can take naps during breaks, or at times, during class. But Aoi is a reliable person to be around if she wins over her willpower.

Today is a bit of an idle mode for her, Asahi observed, seeing her damp hair. She often feels extra sleepy after a shower, or after eating a whole hearty meal. The girl got a towel still wrapped around the top of her head; she doesn’t seem to care much since the gym shower is nearby.

“How was your swimming class?” Asahi asks.

Aoi shrugs, pursing her lips. “Still sucks, but at least I won't drown as much.”

“As much?” Noya intervenes, Aoi sticks her tongue out lazily. “That's progress for me, but I might not take more extra curricula next year.” She lets out a sigh, turning to stretch her head.

She takes her hair out of the damp towel, turning over her head to dry her hair more. Lifting her head back up, it suddenly elicited some laughs from the two volleyball players.

Her hair looks like a bird’s nest.

“What?” she groaned, more as Noya continued his laughing fit, Asahi managed to hold back with a hand over his mouth. She just pouts leaning back on the wall, her boyfriend helps her dry it up. The teasing didn’t stop though.

“Noya-boke! Even you grow shorter with your hair wet.” Aoi retorts, finally making the other stop laughing.

“Oi! I did not even go there, shrimp!”

Aoi rolls her eyes at them more as Asahi still laughs at her. She looks bummed out, though thinking to herself, most of the time that's just his way to show affection.

“Asahi! He’s getting on my nerves…” She drags over her tone, getting more tired. Asahi gives in. “Let’s stop teasing her now, hmm?”

Noya feels offended as if Asahi wasn’t on his side and laughing along earlier? Noya pouts along. “You’re the type to baby her too much.”

“How so?”

Noya could only roll his eyes out, seeing the couple clung to each other, and now, the taller guy was brushing the shorter girl’s hair. He quickly pulls his jacket over her, it’s way too big for her as she wears it. Though it isn’t Asahi to Aoi if he can’t take five minutes without shaking her small figure or squeezing her face with his big hand.

She growls, reaching to bite his arm. “Can’t you be sweet and gentle for a moment, Asahi?!”

Noya grimaces.

“Tch, once I get a girlfriend, you won’t have to torture me like this!”

“I told you I am here, but you keep ignoring me.” Aoi jokes, knowing how invested he is in Kiyoko-san. Meeting eyes with Aoi, the sudden change of smug look on Noya’s face isn’t that nice.

Asahi observes him closely, at guard squinting at him.

Noya at times can take advantage and make fun of her “naive” nature.

“Hey,” his face is serious. “Can you make your elbows touch?”

Noya demonstrates, both the tips of his elbows touching in front of him.

Aoi quickly copies it. “Like this?”

She’s wearing Asahi’s jacket as to why her figure isn’t noticeable, but due to Noya’s antics, the action made her breasts plump up.

“Oh, it is bigger than it looks, Asahi!” Noya’s face formed a letter ‘o’, attempting to inch closer. In between shock and frozen, meeting eyes with his girlfriend didn’t help in handling his reaction time.

Suga-san joins in, surprised at Asahi’s shout, pulling Noya back from getting closer to the girl. “Noya!!!”

“Huh?” Aoi faces him demonstrating it again, plumping it once again. “What’s wrong?”

Asahi flushes as it’s obvious he's staring at her chest, seeing how she’s occupied more of their close proximity. He turns away, calming himself up a bit. “I’m going to clean up.”

Noya and Aoi look at each other.

“Don't tease him too much, you two.” Suga chides in right after Asahi walks out, it’s clear that his glance at him was an implication that he can’t take much of it at the moment, he can look after Aoi for a while.

“Was the act too much?” Aoi asks, looking in the direction Asahi is headed.

“Well, it is working…” Suga answers, averting his eyes. To her position at the moment… it’s hard not to blush.

She stopped the moment she saw how it had an effect on the boys.

Asahi is too flustered to even attempt to touch an inch close to her skin and put away her hands.

Aoi apologizes. Even the others blushed…

The petite girl quickly follows after Asahi, still near the opening of the gym door. He actually stopped in his tracks to wait for her as he heard familiar footsteps.

Meeting eyes with her, it seems like his blushing hasn't subsided, but for an entirely different reason. Asahi asserts his gaze at Aoi.

He sighs, trying to maintain his look towards her. “Don't make Nishinoya do that to you.”

“He's just teasing, no harm—!”

“I just don't like him staring at you too much.” Asahi stressed, letting out a huff. “Especially that way, I—”

“Then look at me then. Like… that way, Asahi-san.” She tugs on his sleeve, lowering her head as she pouts, feeling the shame catching over her. Her plan did work but this is a bit… The effect may be too much on the tension present between them. Was she wrong to get others involved? Though, she might’ve been selfish in her needs. And for also pushing Asahi towards this direction.

Aoi loosens her grip as well. “S-sorry… okay, I won't do that again. That was a bit out of line…”

In deep thought, she feels him easing up on her touch, shaking his head. Why was he this affected though? Asahi worries over his lips, hesitating to pat her head.

“No need to apologize, I’m mostly sorry here, Aoi-chan.”

To see her go over this extent of teasing… He had felt guilty with that expectant and gloomy look on Aoi’s face, seeing her fidget on her spot.

It struck Asahi. He cannot hold back any longer now.

This is also for her sake.

Asahi’s will to hold back reach till nighttime.

He couldn’t sleep, all the tossing and turning of his bed made his unruly hair more into a mess. Aoi is staying by his apartment tonight, and the thought alone that she’s close by, just by the other room snuggled in and at peace. It was him who insisted that they shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed yet as it’s a bit cramped for the both of them to occupy. Or not directly– but she let her hit the hay first. And she easily did so.

Her solemn face hugging the extra pillow so close to her sparked some sort of heat in Asahi’s system. He knows how comforting her warmth is and that is more than anything that he needs especially how exhausted he is with work lately. So why did he avoid any means of contact with what he needs?

He also did not take into mind what she wants.

Asahi knows to himself that maybe, he won’t be able to control himself, especially on how pretty she looks in his huge shirt, how contradicting it is seeing her exposed belly along with how tight her shorts are wrapped around her legs, and her cute bum–

His eyes widened due to thoughts running around his head and his tightened pants– he did not just go there thinking of his cute girlfriend’s ass… Asahi breathes out, ruffling his tousled hair.

He chose to walk around his living room. A refresher of cold water hitting his face might help his head out of the gutter.

Someone else would fear encountering him like this; hair down, eyes spread wide to lack of sleep; it’s not the first sight for his close friends… but with Aoi standing face to face with him. She really takes fondness of Asahi’s hair down. At most, it turns her on??? Kidding.

Aoi finds it funny. But she is fond of seeing this relaxed version of him.

It is anything but relaxed on his end though.

He looks tired, coming back beside her by the kotatsu near his bed. She sleepily tugs by his sleeve, she mutters. “Asahi… I'm really bothered.”

He hums in response.

Instead of initiating to elaborate with words, he blushes as she opens her mouth, clearly heated as she rubs both her legs for friction. His senses seem to be quickly heightened with every movement she does, it’s as if he’s in the court at the lead in a game– the gliding of her soft skin to the bedsheet, her grip to the ends of the hem of his shirt, her fluttering teary eyes, the back of her arched and stretched out, her heaving breath– he’s extra observant right now.

In a fraction of a second, as if he’s ready to dunk the ball on the floor on how he pinpointed her figure in his mind.

“But I’m…” yawns “...too sleepy…” She scratches her eyes gently. “Do me? Please?”

They've talked about this before, how she got permission to wake him up with her mouth on his dick. But every time he grows reluctant on pushing her. She still hasn't had the chance to do it as they haven’t slept in together yet.

So, this is his turn to put their plans into action. She can return the favor sometime soon.

“Sorry, Asahi… I know you've also got a long day of training and…”

He kisses her to cut her off, ever so gently though. He cups her face, stroking it gently. “It's fine… I still have some left-off stamina I'm still thinking of spending and…”

“Wa-wait! Asahi…” she suddenly puts away his other hand approaching her chest, to which she asks him to back away a bit, putting her tongue out flatly, mouth wide for him.

It took him a while to click in his brain.

“You want me to…?”

“Ahhh…” Her mouth seems inviting, his Adam’s apple bopped at the sensual sight. “Ah, I can’t move much but do whatever you want,” her voice seemed muffled with her tongue in the way. But by the way her hands are reaching for his tented pants, his groin started to twitch at how she was luring him.

“If you say so, baby…” The way he’s a bit hesitant on pulling it down, contrasts with her aggression to put his clothes away.

Her tongue meeting the tip of his dick, is enough to drive their senses to the edge. Seeing her open position, back pressed down the bed as she’s about to perform an upside-down blowjob for him. It’s enough to put him on cloud nine.

“I’ll start slow…” Asahi controlled every inch of his gratification not to go too deep to begin with.

“Yes, please… don’t think about it too much.” With a nod of her head, she bopped her head subtly to indicate testing the waters. She doesn’t know her limit yet, they also agreed in between to either imply that she’ll pat him if it’s too much, or to continue shoving deeper.

It’s a different type of sensation for the two of them, but not enough for her to feel him being rough.

It’s deepthroating this way…

“Ahh… Aoi-san, slowly. Shit, n-not too much.” The girl nibbles her way around her dick, a bit ticklish at first but it turns different once she moves up and down, giving him some sort of sensation, to further push him to move more. Her ears reddened at the vulgar language he spitted out, earning her lips to reach both her ears at witnessing this side of him.

Asahi on the other hand is already forming beads of sweat to maintain the current rhythm he’s doing. Helping him out to motivate him, she puts the grip of her fingers around his erection, sucking along the speed. The additional stimulation is enough to buck his hips in her throat.

“F-fuck, aah.” Asahi hisses, twitching at the sinful sight of him etched by her throat.

The girl giggled as she pulled back momentarily, muzzling vibrations around him. Aoi manages to gawk more, grabbing his girth and balls to suck him deeper.

Slurping more, it lets Asahi let loose some steam, earning a pleasured moan out of her as he grabs her by the hair. The continuous movement and warm, tightening sensation make him cum after a few more seconds.

She’s painted white all over her, pleasure washing over both their senses. Asahi is quick to caress her head. “S-sorry, it’s too soon. It’s just… I’ve been holding back, and this is different for you.”

She slurps his seed, licking her lips clean. “For both of us…”

Aoi pulls him close to clean off every last of his ejaculation as well.

Based on what she has been reading and shoving her eyebrows toasted on articles. Now it’s safer.

If ever they’re planning to release inside of her.

“You’ll get more of me, if you want.” She spreads her arm, eyes now a shade darker upon tasting the sweetness of victory he filled her.

It sounds like music to her ears on the words that followed his beautiful lips. “Now it's your turn, baby, is that okay?”

The thought process wasn’t given enough time for her lips to blurt out her neediness, and desperation in her tone. “Yes… man… I’ve been fantasizing about your fingers inside me for so long, Asahi. You got huge and pretty hands. Finger me, please?”

It’s as if his throat got clogged and responded with a cough on how straightforward she is. He hasn’t seen her side yet, but it’s actually exhilarating. His body reacted more to the heat she draws near as she feathers the tips of her fingers to his arm.

“Like this? You like it–” He gets closer, intentionally cutting off his lines, and she mewls. “Mmmm… right there.”

He plays by the folds of her panties, already wet as she’s drowned with her fantasies since earlier from sucking him. He’s rubbing his fingers down there as she weakly shuffles in her place. Her eyes grow teary, both from pleasure and drowsiness. But her brain is stimulated way beyond awake.

She opens her mouth again but a signal that it needs attention. “Asahi-san… please.”

He pulls down her bra, revealing her breasts. Her nipples are already erect as her chest is exposed and sprung open from her undergarments. Asahi kissed it but didn’t attempt anything else, making her look at him. His eyes soft and darkened looking back at her, he speaks.

“Aoi-san, I’m very sorry…” His apology is felt with every contact of his lips to hers, pressing down harder as he navigates lower. “It’s not that I don’t look at you that way or that I don’t find you sexy…” He places another kiss, painting over the plumpness of her chest. “I do, you’re beautiful and… In all honesty, I respect you so much. And it’s been hard holding back for you.”

With a heaving sigh of relief off her lips as he placed his hand on her supple cheek, he looks at her endearingly. “I’m sorry it took this long…”

She caresses the curls of his hair, shaking her head gently. Gasping for air, she tries to encourage more fervor in his touches. “I’ve been telling you to not hold back though.”

“You did…” Asahi did the pleasure to tend her breasts, twisting the erect nipples due to his touch and cold. “No need to beg anymore. I love you.”

“Hnhh… I love you too.” She almost drools at the anticipation, the more he nips over her bare chest, peppering soft kisses, some deepened presses by her nipples. She elicits a sigh of pleasure, turning into a moan as he licks her nipple, sucking it the next. “Uhhh… ah. A-asahi—”

“You're a bit loud for someone sleepy, princess.” He kisses the side of her face, caressing her breasts some more as he moves his lips down her neck to her armpits. His hot breath made her moan at the tickling sensation of her bare skin, tugging by his hair.

She almost yelps, quite awake and vigilant as he slides her panties to the side, revealing her now obvious wet folds. It’s difficult to hide now as it’s evident in the moistness of her panties and warmth filled their senses.

Seeing a plethora of newfound expressions from her, pushed Asahi more to get out and discover more of her aroused reactions as he fingers her.

The wet and naughty noises pique her pleasure as he teases over her folds. She moans, feeling the hot breath of Asahi by her ear as he presses his finger by her clit. “M-hmm… more.”

He adjusts his fingers further inside, easily accessing the slippery path to her deepest core.

She breathes in a whine. “Asahi, please that's so good… do more.”

“Like this, baby?”

Asahi pushes his digits to reach deeper, curling it makes her wail, but she shakes her head.

“No… I want you. Inside me…now.” She faintly reaches for the erection on his pants almost bursting through the fabric, it twitches to her touch.

He kisses her forehead. “You're so impatient, baby. I'm only starting to make you feel good.”

“But I also want you to feel good too…” she says. It’s obvious to her eyes and actions but Asahi knows… she's too sleepy to even move.

He looks at her amused, chuckling as he fully slips off his pants. “That makes the two of us.”

She almost had her senses burst at the sensation of their naked edges, finally, he pushed his length inside of her. Just the tip alone had her bucking her hips, melting her legs at his proximity.

She feels that he hasn't moved yet or pushed to his 100%.

Give in already.

With a tug, what’s left of him is hugged tightly by her vaginal walls. She slips her slithering arms around his neck into a hug, trying her strength to push him to continue.

He’s still holding so much back to his full strength to avoid leaving unwanted scratches on and in her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and she feels the hesitation with him. Even before he would vocal out his concern, his soft and calculated movements are enough to present it.

She can’t help but feel conscious.

“I’ll let you know if it hurts though… so please?” Aoi says.

She leads his hands to her chest, a bit coarse, surprising her. Though, still gentle to touch her.

The previous solemn atmosphere turned steamy, going increasingly intense like their shared body heat.

“Uhhh! Yes, ah-that’s it, Asahi.” she praises in between her squeals, unintentionally louder than expected as he’s now moving faster than where they started. Her body shook back and forth with his supported force. It is minimal to none to be helpful with him grabbing hold of her chest as his force stays vigorous at every thrust he does.

He isn't recognized as an athlete for nothing.

“It feels so good inside you, baby.” He manages to praise her, but she’s left occupied and speechless, washed with ecstasy to reply with coherent words. She’s only able to nod aimlessly, following a flurry of vowels spurring out her lips.

His reliable hands trace her hips, it oddly adds to her being turned on as his grip seems so secure and nicely matched to her smaller figure. They complement well with each other, along with fluent movements and coordinated breaths. Their heartbeats are in sync with their presence near each other. It really is a long-anticipated for both of them.

“Hmnhhh… ah-f-fuck, whatever you’re doing, Asahi-san. Ah-haa… it’s great!” Her nails scraped his chiseled back, their bones quivering as every movement pleased them. He hisses as her nails leave engraving on his skin, but more on the light coming in closer, the same as the girl he’s holding had her eyes reaching the tops of her eyelids.

She’s feeling herself reach the peak as well, she crashed her lips onto his tapping him as if calling for a timeout.

“I’m coming close—” She yelps, him simultaneously licking his lips.

“I’m about to lose it, Aoi— I’m pulling out.”

Asahi’s sense of control is even seen here as he managed to pump his length, and on cue— his load of cum came shooting onto the girl’s stomach.

She’s slightly displeased at the sight, seeing his released seed going to waste. She wanted it sprayed onto her mouth, having a lick of his taste. But she’s too much exhaustion to express her concern.

Asahi plops beside her, catching his breath. The cushion bounces at his weight, she feels it more as he pulls her to his chest. She looks up at him, he’s got his eyes furrowed.

“Was that too much for you? Or…? Do I need to tone it down a bit?” Asahi sheepishly strokes his fingers onto her, barely pressing force on her skin. It feels ironic to his previously hungry aura.

“I liked it as it is, Asahi-san.” She moved his hand onto the space of her waist, moving in closer to a whisper. “As long that it’s you, baby.” She places a gentle kiss on his drenched face. She wipes off his tiredness along with her touch as his lips grow a smile.

“I’ll keep mindful though,” Asahi adds.

“Yes, yes.” With a cheerful nod, she assured him. “So no longer hold back on wanting to go down on me, okay? It makes me feel wanted.”

“You know I always want to make you feel good.”

She giggles at that and with no signs of hesitations. She sticks out her butt, playfully spreading her still-wet folds for his eyes to feast in. “Can we get another round? I’m pretty wide awake now.”

He chuckles lowly, though not in a way that was merely mischievous. “Don’t expect I’m letting you have a lick of sleep the next time you’ll get me this riled up though.”

Oh, to be railed by Azumane Asahi, is enough of a dream come true for her than choosing proper sleep. Especially since she waited so long for this.

What’s so wrong with losing sleep sometimes?

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

#asahi azumane #asahi #asahi fluff #asahi smut #karasuno #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu fic #enjeiwrites

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Text

Book the Third—The Track of a Storm

[X] Chapter XIV. The Knitting Done

In that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with The Vengeance and Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did Madame Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, erst a mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited.

“But our Defarge,” said Jacques Three, “is undoubtedly a good Republican? Eh?”

“There is no better,” the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill notes, “in France.”

“Peace, little Vengeance,” said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with a slight frown on her lieutenant’s lips, “hear me speak. My husband, fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he has deserved well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor.”

“It is a great pity,” croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head, with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; “it is not quite like a good citizen; it is a thing to regret.”

“See you,” said madame, “I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may wear his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to me. But, the Evrémonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and child must follow the husband and father.”

“She has a fine head for it,” croaked Jacques Three. “I have seen blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held them up.” Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.

Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little.

“The child also,” observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment of his words, “has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a child there. It is a pretty sight!”

“In a word,” said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, “I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not only do I feel, since last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then they might escape.”

“That must never be,” croaked Jacques Three; “no one must escape. We have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day.”

“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has not my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.”

The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.

“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge, sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them this very day?”

“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers, from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes without. I know what I know. I have seen with my eyes.”

He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had never seen.

“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!”

“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge, letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.

“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my fellow-Jurymen.”

“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yet once more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either way. Can I spare him?”

“He would count as one head,” observed Jacques Three, in a low voice. “We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I think.”

“He was signalling with her when I saw her,” argued Madame Defarge; “I cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not be silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. For, I am not a bad witness.”

The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a celestial witness.

“He must take his chance,” said Madame Defarge. “No, I cannot spare him! You are engaged at three o’clock; you are going to see the batch of to-day executed.—You?”

The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly replied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the most ardent of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the most desolate of Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll national barber. He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at him out of Madame Defarge’s head) of having his small individual fears for his own personal safety, every hour in the day.

“I,” said madame, “am equally engaged at the same place. After it is over—say at eight to-night—come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we will give information against these people at my Section.”

The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood, and hid his confusion over the handle of his saw.

Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little nearer to the door, and there expounded her further views to them thus:

“She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the justice of the Republic. She will be full of sympathy with its enemies. I will go to her.”

“What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!” exclaimed Jacques Three, rapturously. “Ah, my cherished!” cried The Vengeance; and embraced her.

“Take you my knitting,” said Madame Defarge, placing it in her lieutenant’s hands, “and have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep me my usual chair. Go you there, straight, for there will probably be a greater concourse than usual, to-day.”

“I willingly obey the orders of my Chief,” said The Vengeance with alacrity, and kissing her cheek. “You will not be late?”

“I shall be there before the commencement.”

“And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul,” said The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the street, “before the tumbrils arrive!”

Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through the mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. The Vengeance and the Juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly appreciative of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments.

There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a dreadfully disfiguring hand; but, there was not one among them more to be dreaded than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the streets. Of a strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others an instinctive recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have heaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from her childhood with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveterate hatred of a class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely without pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out of her.

It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an orphan; that was insufficient punishment, because they were her natural enemies and her prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had been laid low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which she had been engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to it with any softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who sent her there.

Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Carelessly worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and her dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such a character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea-sand, Madame Defarge took her way along the streets.

Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry’s attention. It was not merely desirable to avoid overloading the coach, but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their escape might depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. Finally, he had proposed, after anxious consideration, that Miss Pross and Jerry, who were at liberty to leave the city, should leave it at three o’clock in the lightest-wheeled conveyance known to that period. Unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and, passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in advance, and greatly facilitate its progress during the precious hours of the night, when delay was the most to be dreaded.

Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that pressing emergency, Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had beheld the coach start, had known who it was that Solomon brought, had passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were now concluding their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge, taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the else-deserted lodging in which they held their consultation.

“Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose agitation was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: “what do you think of our not starting from this courtyard? Another carriage having already gone from here to-day, it might awaken suspicion.”

“My opinion, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “is as you’re right. Likewise wot I’ll stand by you, right or wrong.”

“I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,” said Miss Pross, wildly crying, “that I am incapable of forming any plan. Are you capable of forming any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?”

“Respectin’ a future spear o’ life, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “I hope so. Respectin’ any present use o’ this here blessed old head o’ mine, I think not. Would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o’ two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here crisis?”

“Oh, for gracious sake!” cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, “record them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man.”

“First,” said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and solemn visage, “them poor things well out o’ this, never no more will I do it, never no more!”

“I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher,” returned Miss Pross, “that you never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what it is.”

“No, miss,” returned Jerry, “it shall not be named to you. Second: them poor things well out o’ this, and never no more will I interfere with Mrs. Cruncher’s flopping, never no more!”

“Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,” said Miss Pross, striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, “I have no doubt it is best that Mrs. Cruncher should have it entirely under her own superintendence.—O my poor darlings!”

“I go so far as to say, miss, moreover,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit—“and let my words be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself—that wot my opinions respectin’ flopping has undergone a change, and that wot I only hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at the present time.”

“There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man,” cried the distracted Miss Pross, “and I hope she finds it answering her expectations.”

“Forbid it,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, additional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold out, “as anything wot I have ever said or done should be wisited on my earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shouldn’t all flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get ’em out o’ this here dismal risk! Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for-bid it!” This was Mr. Cruncher’s conclusion after a protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one.

And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.

“If we ever get back to our native land,” said Miss Pross, “you may rely upon my telling Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remember and understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all events you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your being thoroughly in earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemed Mr. Cruncher, let us think!”

Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.

“If you were to go before,” said Miss Pross, “and stop the vehicle and horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn’t that be best?”

Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best.

“Where could you wait for me?” asked Miss Pross.

Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but Temple Bar. Alas! Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame Defarge was drawing very near indeed.

“By the cathedral door,” said Miss Pross. “Would it be much out of the way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two towers?”

“No, miss,” answered Mr. Cruncher.

“Then, like the best of men,” said Miss Pross, “go to the posting-house straight, and make that change.”

“I am doubtful,” said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head, “about leaving of you, you see. We don’t know what may happen.”

“Heaven knows we don’t,” returned Miss Pross, “but have no fear for me. Take me in at the cathedral, at Three o’Clock, or as near it as you can, and I am sure it will be better than our going from here. I feel certain of it. There! Bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Think-not of me, but of the lives that may depend on both of us!”

This exordium, and Miss Pross’s two hands in quite agonised entreaty clasping his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encouraging nod or two, he immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself to follow as she had proposed.

The having originated a precaution which was already in course of execution, was a great relief to Miss Pross. The necessity of composing her appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the streets, was another relief. She looked at her watch, and it was twenty minutes past two. She had no time to lose, but must get ready at once.

Afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted rooms, and of half-imagined faces peeping from behind every open door in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes, which were swollen and red. Haunted by her feverish apprehensions, she could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by the dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that there was no one watching her. In one of those pauses she recoiled and cried out, for she saw a figure standing in the room.

The basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of Madame Defarge. By strange stern ways, and through much staining blood, those feet had come to meet that water.

Madame Defarge looked coldly at her, and said, “The wife of Evrémonde; where is she?”

It flashed upon Miss Pross’s mind that the doors were all standing open, and would suggest the flight. Her first act was to shut them. There were four in the room, and she shut them all. She then placed herself before the door of the chamber which Lucie had occupied.

Madame Defarge’s dark eyes followed her through this rapid movement, and rested on her when it was finished. Miss Pross had nothing beautiful about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or softened the grimness, of her appearance; but, she too was a determined woman in her different way, and she measured Madame Defarge with her eyes, every inch.

“You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.”

Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of Miss Pross’s own perception that they two were at bay. She saw a tight, hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in the same figure a woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. She knew full well that Miss Pross was the family’s devoted friend; Miss Pross knew full well that Madame Defarge was the family’s malevolent enemy.

“On my way yonder,” said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement of her hand towards the fatal spot, “where they reserve my chair and my knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her in passing. I wish to see her.”

“I know that your intentions are evil,” said Miss Pross, “and you may depend upon it, I’ll hold my own against them.”

Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other’s words; both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look and manner, what the unintelligible words meant.

“It will do her no good to keep herself concealed from me at this moment,” said Madame Defarge. “Good patriots will know what that means. Let me see her. Go tell her that I wish to see her. Do you hear?”

“If those eyes of yours were bed-winches,” returned Miss Pross, “and I was an English four-poster, they shouldn’t loose a splinter of me. No, you wicked foreign woman; I am your match.”

Madame Defarge was not likely to follow these idiomatic remarks in detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set at naught.

“Woman imbecile and pig-like!” said Madame Defarge, frowning. “I take no answer from you. I demand to see her. Either tell her that I demand to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to her!” This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm.

“I little thought,” said Miss Pross, “that I should ever want to understand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, except the clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any part of it.”

Neither of them for a single moment released the other’s eyes. Madame Defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when Miss Pross first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step.

“I am a Briton,” said Miss Pross, “I am desperate. I don’t care an English Twopence for myself. I know that the longer I keep you here, the greater hope there is for my Ladybird. I’ll not leave a handful of that dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!”

Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath. Thus Miss Pross, who had never struck a blow in her life.

But, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the irrepressible tears into her eyes. This was a courage that Madame Defarge so little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. “Ha, ha!” she laughed, “you poor wretch! What are you worth! I address myself to that Doctor.” Then she raised her voice and called out, “Citizen Doctor! Wife of Evrémonde! Child of Evrémonde! Any person but this miserable fool, answer the Citizeness Defarge!”

Perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the expression of Miss Pross’s face, perhaps a sudden misgiving apart from either suggestion, whispered to Madame Defarge that they were gone. Three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in.

“Those rooms are all in disorder, there has been hurried packing, there are odds and ends upon the ground. There is no one in that room behind you! Let me look.”

“Never!” said Miss Pross, who understood the request as perfectly as Madame Defarge understood the answer.

“If they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and brought back,” said Madame Defarge to herself.

“As long as you don’t know whether they are in that room or not, you are uncertain what to do,” said Miss Pross to herself; “and you shall not know that, if I can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know that, you shall not leave here while I can hold you.”

“I have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, I will tear you to pieces, but I will have you from that door,” said Madame Defarge.

“We are alone at the top of a high house in a solitary courtyard, we are not likely to be heard, and I pray for bodily strength to keep you here, while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to my darling,” said Miss Pross.

Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct of the moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight. It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and to strike; Miss Pross, with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so much stronger than hate, clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle that they had. The two hands of Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her face; but, Miss Pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman.

Soon, Madame Defarge’s hands ceased to strike, and felt at her encircled waist. “It is under my arm,” said Miss Pross, in smothered tones, “you shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I bless Heaven for it. I hold you till one or other of us faints or dies!”

Madame Defarge’s hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked up, saw what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood alone—blinded with smoke.

All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared, leaving an awful stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman whose body lay lifeless on the ground.

In the first fright and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of what she did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to go in at the door again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to get the bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on, out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking away the key. She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe and to cry, and then got up and hurried away.

By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways.

In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if it were identified, what if the door were opened and the remains discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took her away.

“Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him.

“The usual noises,” Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the question and by her aspect.

“I don’t hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What do you say?”

It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross could not hear him. “So I’ll nod my head,” thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed, “at all events she’ll see that.” And she did.

“Is there any noise in the streets now?” asked Miss Pross again, presently.

Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head.

“I don’t hear it.”

“Gone deaf in an hour?” said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind much disturbed; “wot’s come to her?”

“I feel,” said Miss Pross, “as if there had been a flash and a crash, and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life.”

“Blest if she ain’t in a queer condition!” said Mr. Cruncher, more and more disturbed. “Wot can she have been a takin’, to keep her courage up? Hark! There’s the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that, miss?”

“I can hear,” said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, “nothing. O, my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be broken any more as long as my life lasts.”

“If she don’t hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their journey’s end,” said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, “it’s my opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world.”

And indeed she never did.

#a tale of two cities #atotc weekly #charles dickens #november 19 #the track of a storm

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puff-hugs · 2 years

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"Her Hair"

Rex wasn’t one to get involved in any drama or the big to do’s at the GAR, but when it involved is girlfriend? Count him in. (contributed by m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s)

{Quite a few errors I'm sure I had to post this before I could talk myself out of it, I also used Google lens to copy and pasted this off of paper and my hand writing is terrible so, there's that too}

"𝚆𝚘𝚊𝚑,"

"No. Really."

"Look, LOOK!"

"It looks incredible,"

"How long do you think that took?"

"Ages, if I can guess,"

Rex paid no mind to his brother's chatter as he made his way to a seat. They got excited over the smallest of things. It was most likely some clone with a new tattoo or complicated haircut.

He didn't see the point in looking through the crowd, that was packed so tightly now someone was going to get hurt, when he'd see it later,

At least, not until Fives spoke up. "Cap, Cap, look at your girlfriend," That snapped his head up so fast, almost anyone but Fives would have feared for their lives, but this was Fives and he didn't even look as Rex glared him down he just kept one hand on Rexes shoulder, the other Pointing down towards the table.

His breath caught in his throat and he shook his head, trying to clear it, so vigorously he almost dropped his tray trying to balance himself. Sure enough, thereshewas, no use telling Fives they weren't dating, wouldn't make him stop more than it has.

It took Rex longer than he'd ever admit to realize Who it was.

She looked mostly the same after he saw it. The oddity wasn't her eyes, still a vibrant magenta, not her face still pale and Kind with a laughing grin

nother clothes still the same white button up with the GAR Medical Staff logo on the breast pocket, Same pants, same, purse, same height -

But her hair Oh, her hair,

Her gorgeous, just above the shoulders short hair, that was normally platinum blonde, dyed a bright pink and blue,ded into a sort of tie dye style.

And it looked lovely.

His feet carried him over towards her before he could decide to fives in tow. When they sat down sheimeadietly starts talking, probably about her hair, but Rex doesn't hear a word of it, too busy Staring, as if trying to learn it by heart.

"It's gorgeous", ""

Rex didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Rashi blushed, turning to him, "I'm glad you think so, captain. Don't give me credit, Ska did most of it."

The tab went silent for a few moments until Kix asked, "Ska?"

"Yeah,"

They remained silent.

"The bartender? At 79's? The one nat-born bartender at 79's? Rifffkg you lot need to talk more nat-borns,"

"Oh that pretty Dathomiri chick?"

"Well, I mean" Rashi looked at Kix, searching for an answer to give him, "Yeah, yeah that's her."

"What I think our dearest captain here was trying to say," he emphasized 'trying' more than Rex thought was necessary, "was that it looks better. Simply because it is on you."

The table laughed at Rex's now red face, Rashi stuck out her hand to cover his, still watching Fives talk.

It was comforting, to say the least.

"He is right though, I don't think Imaria or Marlene could pull that off as well as you."

"That's just because my hair's pink and she's already blonde and Mari would just flatout look weird,'' Marlene announced.

"All the same, all the same. Hey, stop hitting, OW!"

#star wars #My five #Rashi #Rex #Captain Rex #clone wars #first fic on here I believe #yay!#enjoy

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renaissanceclassics · 2 months

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A Tale of Two Cities - Book 3: Part 44

In 45 parts

The Knitting Done

CHAPTER XIV. The Knitting Done

The sawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited.