#brown’s ferry blues

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: Tony Trischka feat. Billy Strings - “Brown’s Ferry Blues”

While they aren’t in bold-face type on the credits, fiddler Michael Cleveland, banjoist Béla Fleck, mandolinist Sam Bush and bassist Mark Schatz get their due from Billy Strings.

It’s Michael and Tony (Trischka) and Béla and Sam and Schatz and me and us and here we are/lord, lord, I got them Brown’s Ferry blues, the guitarist ad libs on “Brown’s Ferry Blues.”

For listeners who miss that line, the hot-tempoed track leaves room for all, save Schatz, to solo.

The all-star joint heralds the June 7 release of Trischka’s Earl Jam: A Tribute to Earl Scruggs.

The lead single is modern bluegrass at its finest and finds the genre’s progressive wing entirely comfortable in this traditional role. Call “Brown’s Ferry Blues” an example of splitting the difference and adding something in the process.

Grade card: Tony Trischka feat. Billy Strings - “Brown’s Ferry Blues” - A+

1/17/24

[black-salt-cage]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[betweenapitchandacast]

Why Fjord Du Saguenay in Quebec is an Underrated Gem

Daily writing promptDo you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?View all responses I typically don’t share my personal experiences, but I felt compelled to write about an exceptionally magical place I visited in September 2020 during the height of the pandemic. Perhaps it was due to the prolonged layoff caused by the pandemic, which severely impacted the hospitality industry. I…

[eldritch-bf]

Recently learned that the color of the vest and tie Arthur wears during the Saint Denis ferry gambling mission changes depending on if you have high or low honor (blue for high and red for low) so now i am obsessed with the idea that the prominence of the colors red and blue on certain gang member’s outfit also reflects their honor level.

Whittemore variants versus Arthur’s default outfit, which doesn’t have a scrap of red on it, however no matter what his blue shirt is always fucking dirty and stained. And remember the gang criticizes you if you have blood all over you.

Hosea wears the blue vest (sometimes brown) but he generally has his red neckerchief on, but he also owns a red and black scarf. Mostly good but a little bit of bad.

Red is prominently featured on Micah. His entire shirt is red and he’s usually wearing his jacket like he’s disguising his nature. Even the the grips on his guns have red. And when you rescue him from Strawberry he does not have his coat.

Dutch is the most interesting to me. He has the checkered red scarf which he rarely wears and the red pocket square over his heart. Only the back of his vest is red, like he’s in denial about it, or that it’s only possible to see who he is when he isn’t facing you and putting on a show. Meanwhile on guarma his vest is suddenly reversed!

EDIT: addition

When Hosea is killed he is wearing a completely different outfit with a blue vest and absolutely no red, and both Milton and Dutch are covered in red!

[saradika]

— beneath the mask

din djarin x f!reader

rated t - 1.3k

tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father

prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly” from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose 💖

when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions

With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.

A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.

You're still a lady.

And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.

But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.

You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.

Your soulmate.

Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people you’ve looked at, throughout your years.

And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.

Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.

If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.

And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.

Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.

The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.

Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.

All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.

Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.

A Mandalorian, it was rumored.

Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.

He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.

But that didn't mean he did not wound.

That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.

Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.

Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.

You were given as the prize, in the end.

Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.

And this is what also slows your feet.

Wondering why such a man would come for you.

At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.

Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.

Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?

Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?

Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?

You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.

It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.

Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.

The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.

Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.

Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.

The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.

Gentle, after everything.

Not him.

But perhaps, not a monster.

The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.

A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.

Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?

Or will it be more like the battlefield?

These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.

And then, you're alone.

Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.

Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.

Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.

A different man than before, you think.

There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.

His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.

"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.

Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.

"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."

"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.

He goes still, at your retreat.

"Do you not, ner kar’ta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"

The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.

He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.

His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.

And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.

You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.

For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.

"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.

He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.

Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.

Only now, do you see all of him.

And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.

You hadn’t been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.

Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.

I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.

There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.

"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.

And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."

"Yes," He smiles.

"Yours."

i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din 💖 thank you for reading!!

ner kar’ta - my heart

[adverbally]

And If I Should Falter, Would You Open Your Arms Out to Me?

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘I thought we agreed it was over.’” | wc: 633 | rated: T | cw: n/a | tags: previous friends with benefits relationship, mutual pining (but mostly Steve), happy ending | title from “A Little Respect” by Erasure

———

Steve hasn’t heard from Eddie in three weeks.

It’s not that surprising. After Steve had called off their arrangement, Eddie didn't have another reason to stop by. What did they have in common beyond Upside Down shenanigans? Why would Eddie come over if he wasn’t ferrying the kids to Steve’s house for D&D or another Party gathering?

He keeps reminding himself of that. They hadn’t fought about it because there had been nothing to fight for. Whatever was between them was just physical. There was no way Eddie had fallen for him the way he had fallen for Eddie.

It doesn’t make it sting any less.

Steve still watches from a distance. Waves when Eddie’s van pulls away after dropping Dustin off, goes with Robin when she wants to see Corroded Coffin’s gig, makes polite conversation with Eddie when he arrives to set up for their campaign. He smiles like it doesn’t hurt more with every frenetic movement, every enthusiastic rant, every cackling laugh that’s not directed at him. Sometimes Eddie’s gaze meets his and he almost thinks there’s something there, something soft and affectionate swimming in those big brown eyes, but it’s gone when Steve blinks. Wishful thinking, he guesses.

It’s a Thursday night when Eddie shows up at Steve’s door out of the blue.

“Hey, man,” Steve greets him, still wearing his work clothes and holding the microwave burrito he was in the middle of scarfing down. “Did we have plans I forgot about?”

Eddie’s cheeks go pink. “No, no plans. I just…” He jams his hands into his pockets and hunches in on himself. “Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you.”

“No!” Steve interrupts as Eddie turns to leave. “I mean, I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah?” Eddie looks almost hopeful, the way he glances up at Steve through his too-long bangs.

“Yeah. I missed having you around,” he confesses.

The smile he gets in response is blinding. “I missed being around.”

Still, Steve is completely caught off guard when Eddie steps closer and pulls him in for a kiss. He wants to melt into it, relax into Eddie’s hand at the back of his neck and let him lick into his mouth. But he doesn’t think he can do this anymore, pretending to keep things casual while he’s secretly yearning for more.

Reluctantly, Steve pushes Eddie away with a gentle hand on his chest. “Wait. I thought we agreed it was over.”

“We did,” Eddie nods. “We did, yeah, but maybe we should, um.” He licks his lips and Steve can’t look away. “Maybe it should… not be? Over?”

It’s thrilling and devastating all at once. “Ed, come on.”

“Why not? If we’re both into each other—”

“But I’m not just into you,” Steve confesses, quiet but emphatic. “I think— I really like you, Eddie. And I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I can’t keep doing this while I’m feeling this way.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s eyes are huge as they stare back at him. “Really?”

Steve almost wants to throw his burrito at him. Eddie shouldn’t sound so surprised that someone would care about him like this. “Yeah,” he shrugs helplessly, “really.”

“Really,” Eddie whispers to himself, awestruck. “Steve Harrington really likes me.”

Wait. Does Eddie…? There’s no reason for him to sound like that unless…

Eddie laughs loudly, and it’s one of the most beautiful things Steve has ever heard. Delightedly, he announces, “I really like you, too, dumbass!”

Their next kiss is clumsy, both of them smiling too much and overeager to touch again. Three weeks felt like an eternity of lost time, and they’re trying to make up for it as fast as they can.

Steve’s burrito ends up forgotten on the floor of the foyer alongside the heap of their shoes and outer layers.

[leilanihours]

🗝️, #38: "So... are you just gonna keep staring or are you going to kiss me?" with morgan cheli🙏🙏 she is so cutsie and i need more fics of her

# I DON'T WANNA LOOK AT ANYTHING ELSE NOW THAT I SAW YOU

pairing: morgan cheli x best friend!reader

word count: 613

warnings: none !

prompt: "so...are you just gonna keep staring or are you going to kiss me?"

⭑ from lani: so much love for morgan my lil cutie pie

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

THE VIEW BELOW you was something straight out of pinterest. you watched through the cabin's window at the people conversing and laughing with their loved ones on the ground. you watched the clouds roll past the setting sun and the blue sky fading into a myriad of vibrant pinks.

you always enjoyed things like ferris wheels because of the way its height gave you new perspectives on the complexities of the world and society. everything looked different from above.

"oh my god, do you see that little kid dancing down there? she reminds me of kk a little bit," you hear from beside you.

you tilt your head at your best friend, morgan, who is currently smiling down at the crowd below. her smile always managed to make you smile, the glow of her joy being contagious.

"she kinda does, i'm not gonna lie," you laugh along with her, "it's so pretty up here."

"it is, isn't it?" morgan agrees. but she's not looking at the landscape like you are. no, she was looking at you. well, more like admiring.

she's scanning over the warm glow of your face, reminiscent the sunset's. she's staring at the curve of your lips as you grin at the scene of little people beneath you.

god, it felt so weird, so foreign to morgan - falling for her best friend. it's something that she never really expected to happen, especially considering you two had only met last year.

but here she was, shamelessly staring at you and taking in your beauty.

you knew she was looking at you. you felt her eyes and the desire behind them. your heart rate quickens under her observance, your cheeks flushing.

turning your head back to face her, you are instantly met with the loving brown eyes you always search for in a crowd.

neither of you say anything as you notice her gaze flicker between your eyes and lips. you watch as her tongue darts out, licking her own lips.

the exchange is agonizing - how one move could make or break your friendship. but it's too intense, you had to do something.

"so are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna kiss me?" you whisper, bringing a hand up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. your hand rests on her jawline, waiting for her response.

morgan's eyes shoot up to your own, slightly taken aback at your bluntness. her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, making her appear even more adorable (if that's possible).

after a beat of silence, she leans into your touch and slowly places her lips on yours. it's cheesy, but you could've sworn you heard fireworks.

the kiss is gentle, delicate, as if you were both scared to scare the other away. as your lips move with hers, you feel one of her hands drift down to your waist, her thumb rubbing soft circles on the sliver of exposed skin.

when you pull away, she rests her forehead on your shoulder, seemingly hiding from your upcoming teasing.

"you okay, morgie?" you giggle.

"so okay," she mumbles into your shirt. you feel her smile against you before she lifts her head to look at you, "you're so pretty."

"shut up," you shake your head with a grin.

"if you keep smiling at me like that i'm gonna have to kiss you again," she breathes out.

you simply smile in response, wanting nothing more than to feel her lips on yours again, "i wouldn't mind it."

and with that, morgan eagerly captures your lips for the second time that night, sighing in content at the thought of finally being able to do what she's been dreaming of for so long.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[s0uth3park]

Some of my random SP headcanons:

This is a long one.

Pt 2

Cartman just will never learn how to drive. Ever. He knows he has other people to ferry him around.

In a similar vein, when that time rolls around (teenhood), Kenny legally can’t drive but he can drive. He just doesn’t have a licence. This persists until much later in life when he can financially support himself.

Stan begged/bribed Cartman to not harass Red for being a daywalker to keep the peace in his and Wendy’s relationship.

Whenever Wendy and Cartman need to sit down to talk out some sort of dispute, they do it over a pack of Oreo’s. They call this Oreo Time.

Kenny and Cartman play GTA together a lot.

Heidi is part Jewish on her mother’s side.

Cartman’s natural eye colour is brown. He has blue eyes, now.

Cartman is short by the time he’s fully grown (probably because of his weight), and has naturally brown hair and blue eyes. Kenny is the opposite, with blond hair and blue eyes, and is naturally Cartman’s favourite.

Cartman’s coat is plain red flannel (it’s the closest thing to fuzzy felt we can get), Stan’s is canvas, Kyle’s is tarpoon cloth, and Kenny’s is synthetic material (it’s like that smooth thin material that makes a high pitched whirry noise when you scratch it?? Cannot find the specific name for the life of me).

Tweek and Butters are cousins. Either through both of their mothers or through Butters’ dad and Tweek’s mom. Let me know which one you prefer.

Craig and Cartman’s hats are from the same store / brand.

Cartman and Kyle wear opposite colours on opposite pieces of clothing (is this a headcanon or observation? Who knows, I just want to point it out). Kyle has a green hat, contrasting Cartman’s red coat. Cartman has a (primarily) blue hat, contrasting Kyle’s orange coat. Kyle’s original gold-yellow t-shirt also compliments Cartman’s blue t-shirt, and pairs with Cartman’s yellow puff, brim, and gloves.

Cartman sometimes hums the Dreidal song to himself. Rarely will he sing it.

Carol and Stuart put Kenny in a separate room to Kevin because they didn’t anticipate a third kid. When Karen came along, they didn’t bother to displace one of them, so just stuck her in with one of them (Kevin) at random.

Kenny carries the gene for red hair.

Either (or both) Laura and Thomas have brown eyes. This is why Craig has black hair. (Relying on a quick google search for this one).

If Stan looks a lot like Randy as he gets older, right down to the eyes, Shelley looks like Sharon, but with Randy’s eyes.

Stan sometimes feels like the outsider in the group because not only do the other three hold biological keepsakes of the others (Kenny’s eyes –> Cartman; Cartman’s kidney –> Kyle), Kyle and Kenny (K’s) both wear the same shade of orange, and all three are called by unvoiced guttural (“kuh”) vocatives. He’s just Stan. He and Kenny have the same last initial, though.

Out of all the moms, Mrs. Tweek has the biggest tits. I’m sorry I don’t make these rules.

She and Richard fuck like rabbits too I think

While there’s a massive gap between how Stan is viewed and how Cartman is viewed, but out of Stan’s Gang, Stan is held in the lowest esteem just after Cartman. Wendy and his looks boost his popularity a bit, but it’s still rather low.

Kenny is held in the highest esteem by the way, because people know he just joins the guys and doesn’t really instigate.

Craig has alexithymia.

Clyde picked up some mannerisms, like speaking with little affect, from Craig.

Clyde was a mommy’s boy, but Betsy was always rather eccentric and pedantic.

I’m not sold on this but I have thought about Betsy having PCOS.

Maybe I’m biased but I like to think that if Clyde outright said the words “I don’t like Janice and I don’t want her in this house” / “I’m not ready for a stepmom”, I think Roger would adhere. Probably just me being biased.

Sharon hates being filmed, and if she sees either a video or photo of her she will immediately pat her hair and say “oh look at my hair there” or touch her face and go “oh my, I look godawful in that”.

Cartman flexes his ability to eat bacon on Kyle a lot.

Craig has a fear of dressing Stripe up in costumes. Tweek has suggested it, but Craig shot it down immediately.

Wonder Tweek’s costume is from Craig’s closet, and the reason his is shit is because he was too busy helping Tweek’s with his because Tweek found organising his own costume too stressful.

Randy taught Kenny how to swim in Kyle’s backyard blow up paddling pool.

Cartman is a weak ass swimmer.

[biancadjarin]

🌾a Roll in the Hay🌾

pairing : perv!em x innocent!countrygirl!reader

warnings : graphic sex, p-in-v, breeding kink (sorta?)

a/n : hoo boy ok so I’ve been thinking about country girl reader and Eddie for a while, went a little crazy on this one. It’s kinda long, but I hope you enjoy! I have a lot of WIPs and ideas for different types of Eddie’s but it really helps when you guys comment/like/reblog so I know what you want to read more of.🧡

MASTERLIST HERE

18+ !!!

You hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel outside the barn, your hands finishing up a braid in your horse’s mane. You feel the excited butterflies flutter awake in your tummy, a smile breaking across your face.

“There’s my pretty little baby.” Eddie coos as he wraps his arms around your waist, breathing in your sweet scent deeply. You’re so fuckin’ cute and innocent. In your sweet little blue and white gingham dress, a little bow tied between your boobs. And you never wear a bra. Fuck does Eddie love that. He swept his eyes down your frame, your soft thighs leading to the smooth skin of your calves, frilly little socks peeking out of the top of your boots.

He holds out a tiny bouquet of wildflowers he picked on his walk from his van to here. Tiny white and yellow star-lily’s, a baby pink prairie rose, a little bundle of baby’s breath. He’s always doing little sweet things to make you smile.

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug. “Teddy Bear!” You squeak, nicknaming him that after he won you a little blue bear at the carnival. He squeezes the jiggly skin of your asscheeks in his big, calloused hands and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in a week. It’s only been about 18 hours. He spins while he’s holding you, making you giggle and get dizzy. “Put me down, Teddy!” You say as more giggles bubble out of your throat.

This has been going on for a few weeks, after you met Eddie and his friends at the Hawkins carnival, you two couldn’t be separated. He kissed you at the top of the ferris wheel, telling you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever met. And he meant it.

“Why have I never seen you around before?” He’d asked, lips leaving wet kisses along your jaw. You giggle into his hair, the feeling of his big hands holding your hips, one of his hands sliding your legs over his thigh.

“I live an hour outside of this town. On a farm.” You reply breathlessly. He pulled back, his big brown eyes looking like a sad puppy’s. “An hour?” He sounded disappointed. He twirls your hair around a finger, his other hand playing with the hem of your tiny Levi’s shorts.

You nod at him, waiting for him to tell you that’s too far away for him to bother. He shrugs, “Guess I’m about to put a lot of miles on my van.” He says, pulling you into his chest, leather jacket arm closing around your shoulder, your head pressed against his shirt, his heart beating fast and the rumble of his voice in your ear. “I’m going to come see you so much, you’ll get sick of me.”

So Eddie drops you down, still holding you close, his tight jeans and black sweater making him look extra cozy.

“Just missed you so much, babygirl. I hate when we’re apart.” He cupped your cheek and you smiled softly, leaning into his palm like a kitten being pet. “I missed you too Daddy.” That’s your favorite nickname for Eddie. His too. It sends a jolt right to his cock every time.

“So what do we want to do today?” Eddie asks, lacing his fingers with yours, swinging your hands gently. You two have gone to dinners, movies, concerts, taken long car rides. Anything to spend time together. But today, you have other plans.

“Mmm… I have an idea…” you sway nervously on your heels. “But I wanna show you something first.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise curiously, nodding softly for you to continue. You take a deep breath, “okay. well I went to the starcourt mall last week and bought something for you.” “For me? Baby, you know you don’t have to buy me things.” He starts to chastise you.

“I think you’ll like this gift, Teddy Bear.” You push him back gently, telling him to sit on a hay bale. You lift the skirt of your dress up to your waist, revealing the lingerie you bought.

Eddie releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes go wide as he looks toward the opening of the barn, making sure no one can see you two. You giggle, “no one’s home, daddy, don’t worry. s’just me and you.”

Eddie’s brain short circuits as he drinks you in. His soft innocent little bunny, your sun-kissed skin, covered in peach fuzz and goosebumps. A sheer pink lace thong covers your smooth core, little flowers, leaves and strawberries embroidered in the fabric. A garter cinches at your waist, thin ribbons circling around your thighs. Silky pink bows hanging off your hips.

“Wow baby, fuck.” “You like it?” You ask, peeking down. “Like it? I’m losing my mind over it.” He says, hands coming out to pull you towards him. You rest your hands on his shoulders as he traces his fingertips over the ribbons, so dainty and small in his hands.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Or anyone.” He says, looking up at you. The sun setting outside the barn is sending golden amber beams in through the door and Eddie’s caramel colored eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.

“What are you thinking about, daddy?” You ask, sweet as peach pie. “Shit,” he takes a deep breath, pulling your tummy close to his face, his lips kissing any bit of skin they can reach. “I don’t know if I should say what I’m thinking about.” He laughs.

“Are you thinking about fucking me?” You ask nonchalantly. He looks up at you, hands gripping your waist. “You can’t just say stuff like that, babygirl. You trying to kill me?” You giggle at the look on his face. “No, Eddie, I’m serious.” You say, shaking his shoulders softly and wiggling your hips to emphasize your point. Eddie watches as your hips and thighs recoil at the movement, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold himself back and be a gentleman.

“But I thought you wanted to wait until we’re married?” He asks, sliding back on the hay bale to pull you into his lap. You look off to the side, clearly conflicted with what you were raised to believe and what you really want.

Eddie is a perv but he’s also so in love with you, it makes his stomach ache. He would never want to push you to do anything you didn’t want to do but to be honest, this whole ‘waiting until marriage’ thing has been kind of a bitch. He’s gotten used to rubbing your clothed pussy against his boner for a release, feeling guilty about it every time. But he needs to get off. And you make him so horny.

You whispering “Well maybe we can do… other things.” is all the ammo Eddie needs. He pulls your dress off over your shoulders, watching as your round perky boobs bounce back once the fabric is gone. He groans as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyelids hooded as he palms and squeezes your boobs. He lets each fingertip graze over your nipples as you let your head fall back, tingles all over your body. He pinches your hard nipples a little too roughly, a loud moan escaping your throat.

He smiles slowly, “Oh, don’t tell me you liked that. Don’t tell me that because I won’t be able to control myself.” You nod, “Felt good, daddy.” You whimper. His eyes roll back in his head as he takes your nipple in his mouth, his tongue sucking and laving over it while he tweaks your other one. He switches back and forth between them until they’re nice and wet, his lips glimmering with saliva. You rake your nails through his hair, scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

“I feel tingly down there again, Eddie. Remember how I told you last time?” Oh he remembers. Almost had to pull his dick out and stroke it in front of you when you told him. You had been making out, your little hips wiggling, your pussy getting drenched. Eddie loves the fact that he can get you so turned on. He loves that he’s the one who gets to introduce you to all this stuff. He wanted to touch you that day but held himself back. But he’s done holding back.

He pulls a flannel blanket off the top of the hay and lays it out onto the dirty barn floor. He instructs you to lay down, while he unclasps your garter belt and slips your panties down your legs. He sniffs them taking a slow, deep breath, making you giggle and blush before he slips them in his back pocket.

You feel totally bare in front of him, legs spread wide open for him to settle in between. He crouches down, eyes hooded and mouth hanging open as he takes in the beautiful flower between your legs. Pussy lips all pink and puffy, little nub of your clit sticking out under it’s hood just begging for attention. Your tiny fluttering hole is leaking clear, milky fluid that has his mouth watering, he licks his lips to stop from drooling.

He lets his fingers dance through your folds, gathering all your slick. You tremble at his fingers, thighs starting to come together. “Oh none of that baby,” he says pushing your thighs down with his palms. “so sensitive aren’t you?” he asks before landing a little spank to your clit. You moan loudly, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing hard.

Eddie’s in awe of you, so perfect and pure laying open for him. He gets down on his stomach and hooks his forearms under your thighs, guiding your ankles over his shoulders. “Gonna help you get nice and open for me, ok baby? Gonna get you nice and ready.” You bite your lip and nod, eyes closing as his lips trail little wet kisses up your inner thigh.

He spreads open your lips and spits directly on your cunt, watching it drip down and mix with your juices. His mouth attaches to your clit while he carefully, slowly slips his middle finger into your tight hole. His thick finger curls upwards, finding that special spot deep inside you.

You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer to you and moaning his name. He smiles against your pussy, peeking his head up to admire your fucked out face and tell you how sweet you taste.

He goes back to licking and sucking at your clit sloppily, his wrist working faster to fuck his finger in and out of you. He pulls his finger out to dip the tip of his tongue inside you, so warm and tight around his pink muscle. “Daddy, feels so good, need your finger again.” He dips his first and middle fingers in this time, seeing how much you can take.

“Fuck baby, your pussy’s practically pulling in my fingers.” He groans. He flips his hand so his palm is up and he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of you. Your legs start to shake and he holds them down, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your thighs.

You cry out his name, a tense spasm feeling starting deep within. His thumb starts to strum fast circles on your clit, “c’mon baby. show me you’re a good girl. know you can do it.” He says, out of breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, all sound fading away as your first orgasm comes crashing over you, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last. You cry out, repeating Eddie’s name as you gush onto his hand.

“Fuuuuck babygirl, that’s it. Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.” He says as you come down from your high, catching your breath. “Oh my god, daddy.” you say, exhausted smile on your face.

Eddie palms at his hard length through his jeans, if he doesn’t stop neglecting it soon, he’s going to lose his mind. He leans over you, kissing you deeply, tongue sliding over yours. You run your fingers up his chest under his shirt, helping him pull it off. He pushes his hips into yours, the rough fabric of his jeans scratching at your soft skin. “I need to know how it feels to be inside you baby, just for a minute. I promise I won’t put more than just the tip in. Please.” He begs you, his hands already unzipping his jeans, unbuckling his belt. “Just for a minute?” You clarify. “Cause you know I’m not on the pill, Teddy Bear.”

He growls, “Just a quick minute baby,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “I promise, I just need to feel you wrapped around me.” You nod at him, sweet little smile on your lips. He shimmies down his pants and boxers, just to his thighs.

He shudders as he reaches down to grab his cock, giving it a few tugs as he kisses your neck and whispers a thank you in your ear. Your eyes wander down to look at it. “It’s pretty like you, daddy. Pink like your lips.” You giggle. He smiles, kissing you softly as his weight comes down on you. He looks down between your bodies, letting the mushroom head push through your slick folds. “Gonna be a little bit of a stretch, bunny. But it’ll feel better soon.” He says before pushing his cock all the way in to the hilt. You hold back a moan, focusing on when it’s going to stop hurting.

Eddie’s mind goes blank. Being inside you is more addicting than he thought it would be. He slowly pulls all the way out before sliding back in, just as deeply as before. He lets out a whimper as his face gets nuzzled into the crook of your neck, one hand on your hip, the other holding your cheek.

Your gummy walls hug him tight, like you were made for him. He lets his hips start to hump in and out of you, never fully pulling out, just enough to feel his balls slap against your ass. He keeps going and going and going, whimpering and moaning your name telling you how good you feel.

The painful stretching feeling is gone and all that’s left is pleasure, Eddie’s big thick cock filling you up just right, so much better than his fingers, which you didn’t think was possible.

Eddie’s hands grab behind your lower back, hugging you close to him as he fucks up into you. “So fucking tight baby, never gonna let this pussy go. Gonna make you mine forever.” He grunts as he fucks you hard and deep.

He’s starting to sweat, mumbling curses and praises to you. It feels so good you don’t want it to stop but you start to get worried. He’ll stop before it goes too far you think. His hips pump faster into you, wet sounds and skin on skin slaps echoing through the large barn. “Can’t pull out-can’t. Feels too good.” He chokes out. You whimper, hands pushing his chest, little “no”s leaving your mouth as another orgasm creeps up on you.

His movements get faster and sloppier, short broken moans leaving his mouth as his eyes screw shut, his forehead coming down to meet yours. You open your mouth as a silent moan comes from deep within you, coming at the same time as him. Thick ropes of his cum shoot inside you, his hips flush to yours as he pumps every last bit of his seed into you with a shudder.

You look at him angrily, “Eddie!” “What?” He says, laughing a bit at how cute you sound when you’re angry. “You said only for a minute!” “I’m sorry, it felt too good. Been waiting so long for that.” “You lied to me.” You said, eyes starting to water. He tuts at you, smile leaving his face. “No, no, no bunny, I tried to pull out, I really did. I’m sorry.”

A fat tear rolls down your cheek, “You didn’t try! Now what am I going to do? What if-what if-” you choke out through sobs. “It’ll be fine baby. You’re not pregnant. And if you are, we’ll be ok. All three of us.” You look at him with your big wet eyes, starting to relax and breathe normally again and Eddie smiles softly. He doesn’t regret what he did because he’d do it again. He meant what he said. He’ll make you his forever.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course. Whatever happens, I’ll always be here. No matter what.” He says, thumb swiping away the trail of tears from your cheeks. He kisses you softly, “I love you, Bunny.” You smile, “I love you too, Eddie.”

.

.

.

[plzu]

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Plus-Size Reader

summary: boardwalk & amusement park date with peter (college-aged peter & reader) warnings: inaccurate depictions of what it's like if a ferris wheel gets struck by lightning idk, fluff & hurt/comfort (reader is insecure) a/n: end of summer fic that i decided to use to write a plus-size reader who will never be too heavy to be carried away by spider-man :] because why are characters with super strength always paired with dainty damsels? if they can lift cars they can carry my overweight ass ♡ wordcount: 4.3k

Peter Parker is a Boy and a Friend, but he is not your Boyfriend. Something that's usually pretty easy to remember, but then there are times where it's just the two of you, shoulders bumping against each other, when the sparks between you feel static and sweet and not-so-platonic.

This breezy summer afternoon has been one of those days, Peter's singular attention making your heart flutter up a storm. Unfortunately, it was clashing with the insecurity that had reared its ugly head the past week, and had kept you locked away in your bedroom, avoiding mirrors and people and watching mind-numbing television. Peter had shown up after one too many days of not seeing you, and successfully coaxed you out of your room with the unfairly intoxicating combination of his puppy-dog brown eyes and stupidly charming smile. You're almost embarrassed by how hard it is to say no to him.

“I’m not gonna let you let these last few weeks of summer go to waste.” He said, stepping through the threshold of your bedroom.

You'd let a hundred summers go to waste while waiting for sweater weather if it meant being able to hide your body from everyone. Instead of admitting this to Peter, of course, you just grumbled that Fall's better.

“True,” he agreed, but then crossed your bedroom to crack open the blinds, letting sunlight spill through. “But we shouldn’t wait for a whole other season to get some fresh air, Sunshine.”

Turns out the fresh air Peter was referring to was salt-licked and sweet, ice cream cones in hand as you strolled the creaky boardwalk of Coney Island. It really was a beautiful day out. The summer swelter had finally given way to delicious cool breezes that ruffled the loose hem of your t-shirt. The fattest, fluffiest clouds lazily drifted across the piercing blue sky, cotton white and lovely.

It's the kind of day that should be spent outside. Peter was absolutely unequivocally correct about that. It makes you grateful to him for once again dragging you out of your comfort zone. He’s good at that. Coming to the rescue when you start to disappear in on yourself. Usually, it melts away your insecurities, or at least pushes them to the back of your mind until they’re easy to forget. 

Today, though, this outing feels more like a date than your other hangouts with Pete, not helped by how nice he looks in his light and airy button down, buttons undone to reveal a casual white t-shirt underneath, nor by the massive crush you’ve had on him since pretty much the day you met, or the fact that you’ve secretly romanticized boardwalks and amusement parks and beaches (despite not being a fan of being at the beach, and despite this beach being in Brooklyn). So you keep shying away from eye contact, giggling nervously, tripping over your words or just keeping uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know what’ll put a smile on your face,” Peter says, leading you towards the section of the park with all the games and weaving between raucous children. 

“Am I- am I not smiling?” 

Peter makes a show of squinting back at you and your unsure mouth, head tilting left and right with uncertainty. “Hmm…” He pauses, sucks in air between his teeth. “I think we can do better, Sunshine.” The nickname is punctuated by a brief and gentle brush of his knuckle beneath your chin that surely would have set you aflame had a breeze not taken pity on you in that moment. 

Peter settles you both in front of some game that involves basketball hoops. Bright, colorful plushies both big and small line the walls inside the game booth, touted as potential prizes. 

Peter notices you eyeing them “‘M gonna win you the biggest one.”

“What?” You laugh. “Peter, no, we took the train here.”

He’s already giving the guy working the booth the ticket needed for playing. “If whole Mariachi bands with their instruments can stuff themselves into trains, I’m sure we can handle a giant teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Okay, fine then. I want the giant Spider-Man.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, eyes falling away from yours. “Thought you’d want something cuter.”

“Spider-Man’s cute,” you defend. “Like, when he does his little flips and shit?”

Still not making eye contact, he throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he readies the basketball in his hands. “If you say so.”

He makes every shot, because of course he does, and wins you one large Spider-Man plush. He also succeeds in putting a large smile on your face, all your anxieties effectively slipping away so you can fully enjoy yourself as you clutch the big soft toy to your body. Jokes and laughter peel out of you as Peter takes you to play more games, and it feels so easy being with Peter in a sea of people.

“Pete,” you say, watching him after leaving the game area. “It’s not fair how good at everything you are.”

“Whaddaya mean? I’m not good at everything.”

“You’re stupidly smart, and even good at basketball, apparently,” you explain, referencing the game that had won him the giant plush you’ve been dragging along. “And you make it all look so easy.” You don’t mention that he’s cute and possibly the kindest person you’ve ever met, because that would be veering dangerously into flirty territory, and you were not about to flirt with your best friend.

Peter studies your face as he leans over the boardwalk railing, propped up by his elbows. You mirror his pose, except the plush is squished between you and the railing, your cheek resting comfortably atop plush Spider-Man’s big adorable head. Something sad passes over Peter’s expression before he finally looks away, towards the beach, where the clouds rolling in from the horizon are darker. “Nah, ‘m not good at everything,” he repeats, quieter this time. 

You frown at the minute shift in mood. But just as you open your mouth to say something, he inhales a big breath and faces you again, smile back on his face. “Y’know, I wasn’t even popular in high school. Middle school too, matter of fact.”

You raised your head, disbelieving. “Shut up. Don’t lie to me, Peter.”

He laughs. “I swear! Girls barely knew I existed. I was bullied a lot.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he recalled his childhood. “Typical jock/nerd dynamic.”

You take in Peter’s tall, lean form. Standing at practically six-feet-tall with warm brown eyes, you can hardly imagine Peter going unnoticed by girls. All this time, you’ve been picturing a Peter from high school surrounded by giggling girls twirling their hair, fist-bumping boys in the halls. Not getting shoved into lockers or getting his head shoved into toilets.

Wait.

“Don’t tell me they gave you swirlies.”

“Once, actually, yeah.”

“Oh, Peter,” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Is that why your hair looks like that?”

Peter grins and lightly bumps your shoulder with his. “Hah, hah, very funny. I take it you were a bully, then? Insulting me like that?”

You continue like that, teasing and laughing and discussing the upcoming semester. The sunlight dwindles, sky becoming overcast as more clouds slowly roll in, becoming flat and gray. The temperature begins to cool as you make your way towards the rides, but you'd hardly notice with the warmth that surrounds you in Peter's presence.

The ferris wheel completely steals your attention from your conversation as you pass by it, head inclining to stare wistfully up at it. The green spindles and bright red lights outlining it illuminate splendidly against the backdrop of graying skies. You sigh, and then promptly come to a halt when you bump into Peter's chest.

“Oh! That's- I'm sorry,” you stammer, giggle, and then mentally chastise yourself for giggling as your cheeks fill with warmth.

“No, no, that's alright.” Peter brushes off your apology. “Ferris wheel's more interesting than me, I get it.” His playful tone eases away the sudden nervousness.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, “I just- well, I've never been on a ferris wheel.” You look back at it, longing. “Don't laugh, but... I always thought it'd be romantic.”

Maybe it's all the books you've read that made you a little bit hopeless in that regard, but you've always fantasized about this exact kind of date. A couple on the ferris wheel, in their own little world overlooking the rest of the park or the ocean or the city -- wherever ferris wheels tend to be, you weren't picky about the view.

Suddenly, Peter has your hand in his. You’re too caught up in the feelings of his fingers against your own before you realize he’s leading you towards the Wonder Wheel. 

“Peter..?”

“C’mon, before they kick everyone out of the park.”

You’re not sure what he means until you realize there’s no one in line. So caught up were you in your little bubble that you hadn’t noticed people had started to leave, the crowd from earlier dwindling to a few stubborn stragglers. 

Peter pays for the ride and marches you both up to the sole employee letting the last of the ride-goers off. The man looks up at you both, boredly chewing gum, then eyes the sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” he says. 

“C’man, man. We paid.” Peter replies, and his tone takes on the familiar puppy-dog pleading that usually gets him his way. “Jus’ one ride around? Please?”

You bite your lip as you watch this guy’s resolve start to waver. 

The man sighs. “That’s usually how it works, kid.” His shoulders are already starting to drop, though, but he’s still got some fight left in him, apparently, because he shocks you by saying, “I’m sure there’s other spots you can make out with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not-” you stammer, “-we’re not-”

“Please?” Peter cuts you off, more persistent, a little pathetic, and incredibly fucking cute. “They haven’t even announced that the rides are closing down. We can still go on.”

You feel your whole face heat up over the fact that he didn’t correct either the girlfriend thing or the making out thing.

The guy hesitates, as if hoping for a perfectly timed announcement at that moment. When nothing but the cawing of seagulls fills the silence, he finally gives in and lets you on the ride.

Peter helps you into one of the stationary carts, not wanting to risk swinging back and forth with the wind starting to pick up. You settle in with Little Spidey--the nickname you decided on for your new plush--while Peter takes the seat on the other side.

The incline to the top isn’t as slow as you thought it’d be, but it’s still a soothing pace. You watch, mesmerized, through the bars of the Ferris Wheel as it brings you up and up, higher over the park. When you go to swivel your head to see the other side, you catch Peter looking at you from his seat across, head cocked to the side, gentle smile gracing his face. 

His attention immediately makes butterflies lurch in your stomach. It dawns on you that you are trapped in a metal box with Peter, and the space feels snug and intimate but it makes you feel too big. You're all too aware of the way your thighs spread out beneath you, and all you want to do is shrink in on yourself.

Peter, perceptive, notices the nervousness creeping back in. “Hey, you alright? Not afraid of heights, are you?”

You glance up into his eyes, can see the dark brush of his eyelashes and count the stray freckle and moles that dot his face, and it immediately feels overwhelming. “No, 'm fine,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

You haven't felt this nervous around Peter since you first met nearly a year ago, his good looks and easy charm making his attention all too much to bear. It was very easy for feelings to develop when he kept talking to you, seeking you out for study sessions and pizza dates, consistently lifting you up whenever you felt down. Sure, he’d disappear sometimes or show up late others, but he still showed up. It’s what matters most to you.

“I don’t embarrass you, do I?” 

Despite the lighthearted tone, your eyes widen at the change in topic and you look back at him. “What? No, why would you say that?”

He’s grinning at you, but his hand comes up to his chest in mock pain. “Just that you were so quick to deny being my girlfriend down there. It kinda hurt.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “N-no, of course not! I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

The smile falls from his face, replaced by a confused knit of his brow. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

You snort. “Are you serious? Look at me.”

“I am lookin’ at you.” He’s frowning, utterly earnest.

“I’m jus’ not, like… girlfriend material, y’know? It’s happened before. Usually whatever guy I’m hangin’ out with gets all annoyed that anyone would even suggest such a thing.” You chuckle, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. It doesn’t hurt much now, anyway; Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can dull it some.

Something furious flashes across Peter’s face, darkening his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on him, the clench of his jaw, the quiet seething in the knit of his brow. He’s angry.

You’re about to apologize for upsetting him when he beats you to it. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. Sounds like they were lousy, didn’t appreciate what an amazing person you are. Smart and funny and beautiful.”

The ferris wheel slows to a stop, leaving you cradled at the top of the Wonder Wheel, finding it difficult to catch your breath under the weight of Peter’s earnest gaze. Sometimes, like right now, his attention makes you ache because of how badly you always want it, convincing yourself that you don’t deserve it, or that it’s some kind of joke, too good to be true. Having Peter as just a friend is already special, but that craving for something more always kicks in and it feels like drowning.

“Pete,” you breathe, “that’s not fair.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t- you can’t say stuff like that to me. It’s too nice.”

“But it’s true.”

When did he get so close? He’s leaning forward, forearms propped on his thighs, and you somehow find yourself pulled in by the gravity of his sincerity. You lose yourself in his eyes, chocolate quartz and tender. The scent of the sunscreen you made him wear fills the space between you, all warmed out by the day, baked into his skin. His lips are slightly parted, practically inviting…

Sudden bright light fills the sky, making the two of you rip away from each other. You look out and see the storm coming in heavy from out on the beach, rain pelting into the ocean and onto the now-empty shores. The clap of thunder that follows rattles you, making the ferris wheel shutter.

When you look back at Peter with wide-eyed terror, he’s attempting to peer down through the cage of the gondola. “Okay, he’s- he’s gonna get us down.” He looks back at you, attempts to soothe with a smile as the gondola jerks forward towards its unhurried descent. 

“Here.” Peter leans forward to grab Little Spidey and places him in your arms. “Jus’ hold on to that and we’ll be off this thing before y’know it.” He goes back to looking through the grate, fingers of one hand curled around the metal frame.

You automatically clutch the plush to your chest but then immediately feel overcome with flustered embarrassment. “Wh- I’m not a little girl, Peter!”

“What?” He glances away from the storm to look at you. “No, no I know,” he scrambles. “It’s just, you looked so scared-”

“I’m fine! I’m not scared-”

Lightning strikes down right then next to the ferris wheel, much too close for comfort, and you scream and flinch and bury your face against Little Spidey.

“Shit.” 

The ferris wheel shutters and moans to a stop. You peek up and notice the lights of the machine are no longer on. Peter looks agitated as he stares down through the grate. Your heart drops -- you’re stuck. You’re stuck in the middle of the storm, suspended however-many feet in the air -- at least a hundred -- and you don’t think you’ve ever been more scared in your life. 

Well, you think, looking out at the rest of the park, at the brutal skies, and then finally at Peter’s profile. At least the view’s not so bad.

Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead and around you, rain beating down mercilessly against your encasement. The ride creaks. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the change in Peter’s eyes. He may have been somewhat nervous this whole time, trying to put on a brave face for you, but there was a certain flash of fear that dashed across his eyes just now. You get the sense he’s realized something you haven’t yet. 

Maybe it’s that you were gonna die here. 

“No, we’re not dying here!”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud. 

The unmistakable sound of groaning metal makes your heart stop. The gondola lurches slightly, slowly starts to tilt to the side. Did it come loose?

You shout Peter’s name through the downpour.

Despite the little space, Peter positions himself to stand at a bit of a crouch between the seats of the cart. One hand holds onto the metal slats while the other presses against the ceiling above for leverage, and he starts to kick at the door of the gondola. Once, twice, and it flings open at the third impact and out into the wind. 

Each kick had shaken the whole cabin. You sat extremely still, watching the whole thing, terrified that any sudden movement on your end would speed up this thing's fall.

Peter perches at the new opening, body leaning halfway out so he can grab onto a part of the still-standing rim, which doesn't seem to be falling apart the way everything on this side of the cart seems to be.

Peter holds out his free hand to you, palm up. He calls your name. “C'mon! Take my hand!”

You look at him like he's out of his damned mind. There's no way Peter, with his gangly long limbs, had any hope of lifting you out of here. Fear is the only thing that stops a manic laugh from warbling out of your throat.

“You gotta trust me, Sunshine.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then glance up to his face, see the desperate plea in his eyes. It shatters your heart. He’s practically halfway out of the cart, can probably get down safely from here. But if you grabbed his hand, you’re worried you’d just weigh him down. Even if he could pull you to safety, wouldn’t it just slow him down? Turn the odds against your survival? You don’t want to be the reason Peter doesn’t make it. You couldn’t do that to sweet Aunt May. 

Yet you find yourself taking a trembling step forward. Because Peter told you to trust him, and before this you swear he was about to kiss you, and you decide then and there that you don’t want to die without getting a chance to kiss Peter.

Just as your hand raises to clasp Peter’s, the cabin lurches again, makes you wobble off balance. You gasp as Peter shouts, a wordless exclamation. When you find your footing again, realizing that you are not yet plummeting to certain death, you see Peter is somehow… he’s holding onto the cabin by the door frame with one hand, hanging onto the upright beam of the ferris wheel for leverage. Face contorted with strain. Arms trembling with effort. 

“Grab onto me!” He yells. “I can’t- can’t hold it for long, you gotta grab onto me!”

No longer wavering, you fling yourself at Peter and wrap your arms around his middle. That’s about as much bravery as you’re able to muster up with open eyes, so you squeeze them shut and quietly make sounds of teeth-clenched dread as rain and wind whip around you. 

Peter must let go of the cart because you feel his hands adjust you against him before one of them holds you closer and tighter to him, arm secure around your waist. It is the only thing that provides a small comfort as the windswept feeling of falling makes you bury your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The fall seems to last much longer than you think it should. Long enough to give way to something exhilarating in your belly, accompanying the fear and the cold. Long enough to feel a bit confused over the delayed impact, but you convince yourself it’s coming soon, maybe right this second, even, and nuzzle deeper into Peter’s hold for comfort.

Peter’s voice cuts through the wind and rain unexpectedly clear and close to your ear. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re fine now.”

You shiver, probably from the chill of the passing storm and not from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, and slowly blink your eyes open to the dark hair plastered at the back of Peter’s neck. It takes another few seconds to realize that you are no longer falling, and that the ground is firmly planted on your feet. Or, vice versa. Either way, it’s such a dizzying relief of a revelation that you only slowly peel back away from Peter, afraid you might stumble without his support. 

You draw back far enough to scan Peter’s face. “How- what?” You glance around, find yourself tucked away between two small buildings. The rain has lightened to a soft, considerate drizzle. Looking back into Peter’s eyes, you finish asking, “Peter, how are we alive right now? How did we get down from the ferris wheel? Where is the ferris wheel?”

Peter chuckles, something nervous underlying the laughter. His arm falls away from your waist. You miss it immediately, but then his hands are on your cheeks, cradling your face. “There’s probably somethin’ I should tell you.”

His dulcet tone makes your cheeks tingle. An overwhelming emotion fills his gaze, and it worsens the dizzying feeling of being alive. Peter’s face is so close to yours, water droplets hanging from the wet strands of hair sticking to his brow, one clinging to the tip of his nose. His mouth is parted slightly, and he is breathtaking and dreamy and quite possibly the reason you’re still alive. 

“Wh-what’re you..?” 

Peter answers your breathless and incomplete question by closing the distance between your mouths. His lips slot against yours. His nose pokes your left cheek. It all feels so tender and almost impossible. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I just-” he pulls back, but not very far, continues muttering against your mouth. “I thought I was gonna lose you, too-”

His lips trail upwards, brushes against your nose until they press against your forehead, and it somehow makes you feel more bashful than the kiss did. Something delicate and vulnerable bubbles up in the small space between you, makes the rain stop mattering.

“Pete,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion as you parrot his reassuring words from before. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You stand there for a few moments, letting time dissolve around you as you mutter reassurances to each other, hands not leaving the other, touches filled with solace and just a little bit of selfishness. As your mind accepts that you are no longer in danger, something starts to click into place as dots connect. The Spider-Plush is still firmly clenched in your right fist, now sodden from the weather but otherwise intact. 

An amused snort distracts Peter enough to pull away from you and give you a curious look. The space allows you to take a look at the plush, its familiar colors and big white eyes and webbed face. You raise it next to Peter’s head, shaking it slightly, for emphasis. “This- This is you.”

Peter’s head falls forward, keeping his eyes downcast and away from yours. It wasn’t a question, of course, but he nods anyway. 

“You… Spider-Manned us to safety.”

Peter’s shoulders move with silent laughter before he raises his head again, grinning. “See?” He says. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you die.”

The precious moment of reveling in each other’s safety finally gives way to bubbly amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me!”

“Aw, c’mon, where’s my vote of confidence?”

“Peter. Peter, look at you, you’re like a stringbean.” 

Peter throws his head back in laughter, revealing his lovely long neck and Adam’s apple that you stare at, deciding it’s a well-deserved treat for your eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d be able to bear my weight so easy?” You continue. “I’m not exactly light, Pete. I’m not… I’m not damsel-sized, y’know?”

Peter stops laughing. He looks at you, something smoldering and slightly mischievous darkening his gaze. His head drops just a bit, making his stare almost threatening as he walks towards you, starts backing you into the wall on your side of the alley. “Was easy for me. I’ll carry you anywhere.”

Heat floods your cheeks, the low tone and Peter’s closeness making your heart flutter. 

“C’mere.” His right hand falls to your waist again, pulling you towards him, making you gasp. He plants one more searing kiss against your lips, this one more certain and molten, before effortlessly whisking you away. 

You spend the evening huddled up in your bedroom, eating soup and fighting back a cold and sharing a blanket with Peter Parker, who is so much more than a Boy and a Friend.

[system-to-the-madness]

Midnight At Osanbashi Pier - Dazai Osamu x Reader

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader Genre: hurt/comfort - fluff Word Count: 2 611 Warnings: OOC!Dazai (sorry), sexual harassment (not by Reader or Dazai!) Summary: Your date for New Years starts getting pushy but luckily Dazai is there to interfere A/N: For @un-lawliet ... and the photographs are actually from taken from Osanbashi Pier in Yokohama on New Years Eve 2023

Masterlist

Behind your back, blue lights of the harbour illumination were sparkling brightly in the last minutes of the old year, but their glitter did nothing to easy your discomfort. You really regretted having agreed to this date with the barista from the café you always picked the Armed Detective Agency's order up from. Especially since the longer the date progressed the more you wished you had instead agreed to spend New Year's Eve with the other members of the ADA. The man, John, was cute, with huge blue eyes and lazily sideways swiped hair, the American accent in his voice giving his speech a charming tilt.

And he was a welcome distraction from those coffee-brown eyes that kept haunting you.

Dazai was your coworker, you kept telling yourself, and he was the flirtiest man you knew. He flirted pretty much with everything and anything that crossed his path, except for you. In the beginning you had been rather happy he hadn't focused on you the same way he did with everyone else, but the better you got to know him, the more you hoped he'd also pay attention to you the way he seemed to do with everyone else. Sure, receiving the attention you had been craving for the past year would probably only make your feelings for him worse and end in heartbreak, considering he could never be serious. You had seen him go out with enough girls only to barely acknowledge them after, as if one date had been enough for him to completely lose any and all interest in them entirely. You feared if Dazai were to ever direct his attention to you, you'd end up meeting the same fate.

Your thoughts got interrupted by two warm and strong hands on your waist, making you tense up. Your date, John, had tried being handsy with you all evening and honestly, the more he tried the more your alarm bells rang. Not to mention that the date didn't go as planned at all. First he had been late and had dragged you to some cheap pizza place instead of the rice bowl restaurant you had agreed on. Then he had continued talking only about himself and how amazing it was for him to have scored a place in the exchange program to Japan before he even started making degrading comments about your "office job" because, unwilling to explain to him about abilities and the ADA, you had told him you worked as an assistant in a detective agency, which he had somehow understood as an invitation to look down on all office workers ever.

You should have called it quits after that, telling him you wanted to end the date there and instead have called up Kunikida to pick you up, so you could spend the rest of the evening with your coworkers and friends. But John had convinced you to come to Osanbashi Pier with him, so you had only sent a quick text to Atsushi, complaining about your situation.

Sure, the view over the harbour towards night-time Yokohama was fantastic and the light show, the illumination and the music creating a beautiful atmosphere, but with John sticking to your side, trying to pull you in every chance he got, you'd be lying if you said it didn't destroy the mood.

"Only ten seconds left of this year now," he whispered his tall frame towering over you, warm breath fanning over your ear, making you shudder.

The crowd around you began a count down, and you pressed closer to the balustrade of the pier, trying to avoid the overbearing contact with John's body, but he only stepped closer.

The Ferris Wheel at the other side of the harbour counted down the remaining seconds, colourful lights shining through the cool December night. You wondered what their light would look like reflected in Dazai's eyes.

Just when the countdown hit two, John spun you around to face him, and leant in. Panic surged through you, and before his lips could touch yours, you twisted in his arms, pushing away from him.

"What do you think you're doing," you shouted over the cheering of the crowd around you as the clock stroke midnight. The Ferris Wheels lit up in all colours of the rainbow.

"New Year's Kiss, what did you think," John grinned broadly as if he were proud of himself, reaching for your waist again to pull you back in.

"No thanks, I'm good," you denied.

His expression shifted from overly cheerful to threatening.

"I think I deserve one, don't you? I've been very patient with you the whole evening!"

"I said no." You tried sounding strong, but somehow a proper fight was a lot easier than standing up for yourself. Carefully you took a step back.

"What do you mean, no?"

Another step back and you collided with something warm an firm; the chest of another guest.

"I do suppose she meant it in the way it usually is used, as a denial or rejection," a male voice interrupted, the voice belonging to the man you had stumbled into. A shiver ran down your spine as you recognised it as Dazai's. What was he doing here? "But do correct me if I'm wrong, my love." Affectionately he patted your head as he always did. The contact sent excited sparks through your body.

"Who the hell are you," John snarled, taking a threatening step towards Dazai and you. Instinctively you tensed, preparing to defend yourself, but then Dazai's hand slipped from your head to rest on your shoulder instead, and you knew he was ready to pull you behind himself, should the need arise.

"The person who will make sure to snap your hands off at the wrist if you dare touching her again without her explicit wish."

You knew Dazai's words were directed at John to protect you, but you still couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine at the ice in his voice. Feeling you tremble, Dazai squeezed your shoulder gently through the long coat you were wearing, his caring touch such a strong contrast to the threat in his words.

"Dazai-"

Carefully you turned around to face him, trusting him to warn you in time should John try to move in. His usually warm brown eyes were hardened with disgust, leaving no doubt about how angry he was on your behalf. Behind your back, somewhere over the harbour, fireworks exploded in the night sky, earning "ahh"s and "ohh"s from the crowd around you. The reds and greens lit Dazai's face up from one side, making him look even more threatening. But you also couldn't help but think that if the expression in his eyes had been softer, he would have looked angelic.

"What's your problem, man," John asked, sounding truly annoyed now.

"My problem is that you tried to kiss her when she clearly told you she didn't want you to. We might go as far as calling it sexual assault," Dazai hissed, trying to take a step forward, but you placed your hand at his chest, stopping him. With every deep inhale he took the cool fabric of his open coat shifted slightly over the smooth material of the expensive waistcoat he wore, giving away how worked up he was. Immediately his brown eyes flickered down to your hand on his chest and then your eyes.

"Don't," you mumbled and Dazai's eyes softened immediately.

"What? You gonna let her put a leash on you like some fucking dog?" John's continuously raised voice started drawing the attention of the people around you to the dispute, making you want to hide against Dazai's chest.

"Oh, kinky," the detective chuckled. "Are you into that, my love?" The last part was directed at you, driving heat to your cheeks.

"Hey-"

John took a step forward, but before you could react, Dazai had shoved you behind him.

"If you take one more step, we'll find out if I can throw you far enough that you'll actually hit the harbour and not the street below," Dazai warned, the playful edge in his voice having vanished again entirely, leaving only a sharp cold. "What do you think, my love? It's quite far to the water. Think he'll make it?"

Tightly gripping onto Dazai's arm, should he actually plan on making good on his words, you directed your attention to John again.

"You should leave," you advised.

Much to your surprise John didn't disagree and instead turned away from you with a clearly audible "bitch" on his lips.

When the next firework exploded in a rain of reds and oranges in the sky above you, he had disappeared in the crowd. Immediately Dazai turned to you, grabbing you gently by the shoulders and leaning down to eye level.

"Are you okay? Are you cold? You're shivering." The concern with which Dazai treated you now was the exact opposite of the way he had talked to John just a second ago. At his question you realised he was right. You were indeed shivering, but not from the cold and rather the stress the past minutes had caused you.

"How did you find me," you asked instead of answering as Dazai shrugged his coat off and threw it over your shoulders, tucking it into place without meeting your eyes.

"Atsushi showed me your message about how you wanted to leave and didn't know how. I got worried," he admitted and somehow he sounded unfamiliarly sincere, still evading your gaze.

"Thank you," you mumbled, leaning your forehead against his shoulder when you realised he wouldn't look at you.

"Can't have anything happening to you, you're too important to me," Dazai whispered, wrapping his arms around you, and holding you close, nuzzling his nose against your hair. He faintly smelled of green tea and ginger cookies.

For a moment you stood still like that, only processing what he had said.

"Why do you always call me 'my love'”, you suddenly asked, trying to pull away far enough to look at Dazai's face, but he kept you pressed to his chest.

"Can't you tell?"

Blue and purple fireworks lit up the night.

"Would I ask if I could?"

He sighed gently, placing a kiss against your hair. "You're not some tempting looking berry that could kill me with the first bite. You're- well, my love."

This time when you tried pulling away, he let you. His eyes reflected the glow of the Ferris Wheel behind your back and the sparks of the fireworks in the sky above the pier. The little light was enough to reveal the vulnerability in his gaze. It was strange. Dazai Osamu didn't do vulnerable. He was wrapped in bandages, protecting the traces of his hurtful past from preying eyes, always wore a cocky smile to hide the sadness that sometimes threatened to shimmer through. You knew him well enough to have seen him pull up these walls more than once. But now instead of throwing the gates to his soul shut, he pulled them wide open, letting you see everything, the pain, the fear, and seemingly infinite amounts of love. For a moment you thought you should be scared of being let in, being presented with all his heart like this. But instead all you felt was overwhelming gratitude and relief at finding your feelings returned.

Reaching up, you brushed a strand of his hair out of his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch and his eyes flickered closed for a moment before he forced them open again, giving you a long and intense look which finally pulled the words from your lips which you had held back for too long already.

"Please kiss me."

Dazai's eyes widened surprised at your request and flickered to your lips, but he hesitated. Instead of leaning in, his gaze grew absentminded for a moment, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Still focused on the way you nervously but your lip, he slowly spoke.

"If you let me kiss you now, you'll never get rid of me again," he warned.

"Who says I want to?"

"I mean it," his eyes finally found yours again as if he had snapped back into the moment. "I know you think I'll just move on like I do with everyone else, but the reason I can't stay with anyone else is because they aren't you."

Instead of answering him, you just kept looking at him, challengingly. Usually, Dazai was not one to easily loose a staring match, but this time he caved far quicker than you had anticipated. The only warning you got was a twitch of his nose before he leant in, pressing his soft lips against yours, making your eyes flicker closed. The smell of green tea filled your nose, as golden stars exploded over your heads, shining through your closed eyelids. Dazai's kiss was careful but determined as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you against him and when you wrapped your hand into the short hair in his nape, he quietly sighed into the kiss, sending another shiver through your body.

Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you could have sworn Dazai had to feel it and as if he had read your thoughts, he moved one hand from your waist, and instead slowly ran it up and down your back, gently comforting you into the kiss only to teasingly run the tip of his tongue against your lips once you had relaxed into his arms, making you inhale sharply at the foreign sensation and the sweet taste. Your reaction pulled a warm chuckle from his lips and heat into your cheeks but when you tried pulling away, he only let you do so for a moment before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you back against his lips, this time more urgent, making you gasp which in turn allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

It felt like he had taken up all your senses, his hair smooth under your fingers, the scent of green tea filling your nose, his breath and your heartbeat in your ears equally drowning out any other sound, his subtle taste of ginger cookies and mints making you dizzy. And when you pulled away, blinking your eyes open and gasping for breath, you met his eyes, fireworks of gold and silver reflecting in dark pools of brown that seemed to have found their own glow from within, shining with something you had never seen this strong in his eyes before. But it had been there for a long time, you suddenly realised, this softness with which he considered you, affection, that usually was well guarded behind the mask he always wore so meticulously. But now he had dropped that mask, for you. And that had to be the greatest gesture of trust you could imagine.

A smile pulled at Dazai's lips as he watched you study his face, not the usual teasing or silly smile, but an honest, heartfelt one.

"Happy New Year," you mumbled, reaching up, brushing the back of your fingers over his cheek. You could have sworn a slight hint of pink dusted over his face but in the dim and ever-changing light of the fireworks it was impossible to be certain.

Dazai laughed quietly, placing his hands at your waist, under his coat which he had thrown over your shoulders earlier, but over your own jacket and pulled you against him until your hips were flushed against his.

"Happy New Year," he whispered back before he leant in to kiss you once more.

[buckevantommy]

[firefly-in-darkness]

Hopelessly Devoted

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary → You visited the Harvest Festival and your boyfriend, James 'Bucky' Barnes surprised you.

Word Count → 1.3k words

Warnings → none, fluffy lovey dovey stuff.

Beta → none.

Prompts/Bingo Cards

AFG Square Fill → Grease AU - @anyfandomgoesbingo

AF Fluff Square Fill → Carving initials in a tree - @anyfandomfluffbingo

Sebastian Stan Square Fill → Blindfold - @sebastianstanbingo

Writer's Note → Well, it's been a while since I wrote anything, let alone shared it on here. This was something I had written last year and just gone over it briefly so hope you enjoy it.

Summer was fading; the sun was setting earlier, and the cool breeze was picking up. Bright greens, blues, and yellows disappeared and replaced with oranges, reds, and browns. Fall was fast approaching, and you didn’t mind one bit. Cozy cardigans, knitted stockings, roaring fires, and hot chocolate were calling your name.

The town’s Harvest Festival was in full swing; pumpkin patches, hayrides, corn mazes, and even hosted a fairground with a Ferris wheel and arcade games. Everyone from town was there, including you and your cousin, Danny. Who had conveniently just left you to show off his bowling skills to his girlfriend, Sandy.

"Hey Doll," the low timbre sent a wave of giddiness through your body.

"Hey yourself," you turned to James and returned his lopsided grin.

James was wearing all black and the trademark T-bird leather jacket. His hair wasn’t as slicked back as earlier. It was a little fluffier, and you prefered it that way too.

He presented a small stuffed teddy bear, "Told you I’d win something for you before night fell."

"And how much did that cost you? I bet the amount you spent would have bought three of these from the store!" You wrapped the bear in your arms as you teased your boyfriend.

"Where’s the fun in that?" He puffed out his chest in faux machoness, "Gotta prove my worth to a Zuko."

You giggled as he exaggerated and flexed his biceps. He turned his head to the side, and you kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, I love it."

His eyes sparkled with mischief, "Let's get out of here."

"What are you planning, mister?" Your eyes narrowed at him in jest.

“Follow me.”

Your gingham skirt and petticoat fluttered out and around you with each step as you skipped to keep up with James' longer strides. You bypassed the bright and colorful fairground. The laughter and joyful screams echoed with each stand and ride you left behind.

James didn’t stop at the coconut shy to show off his throwing skills or the Ferris wheel to charm you with whispered sweet nothings and to kiss you at the top. Instead, he diverted you to the exit and straight to his car.

James held the door open for you as you gathered your skirts and climbed into the car. He raced around the front with a massive grin, slid inside, and handed you the soft blue tie he had worn to prom last year. You'd only been on a couple of dates by the time prom had come around, but he'd made your heart swoon at the gesture of matching the color of your dress.

"It’s a blindfold. I want this all to be a surprise,” the quick explanation eased your confusion.

You nodded and placed the material over your eyes. It wasn’t thick enough to block out the light but obscured your vision enough to not see much in front of you. You tried to tie it but fumbled. James’ hands covered yours and took over.

“Are you going to tell me anything?”

"No, Doll. It will spoil it, but we'll be there in about 10 minutes."

Butterflies erupted in your belly, excited for what lies ahead. You thought of all the places that could be nearby and what the surprise could be. Maybe you were going to have one of those giant sundaes at Frosty Palace, or you were going to see a movie at the drive-in.

The engine started, and you released a small yelp. James laughed as you tried to regain your composure. The familiar sounds of the crackling radio filled the car. You relaxed against the leather bench and enjoyed the sounds of Bill Haley and His Comets.

The absence of Bucky's touch was brief as he held your hand while he drove. You're sure he could hear the race of your heartbeat, but you didn’t care. 

The car pulled to a stop, and you heard Bucky open and close the car door before opening yours.  A cool breeze wrapped around your exposed calves, and a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t long before Bucky's warm hand took yours. You climbed out of the car as gracefully as possible. A slight snigger from Bucky had you doubting how well you achieved that.

You focused on your other senses and tried to work out where you were. The soft ground under your pumps meant you weren’t on the sidewalk. Birds chirped above, the slight rustle underfoot and the sweet scent of flowers wafted around. You almost screamed at the feel of something tickling your legs. You managed to choke it down but earned another snigger from James.

"Barnes, you're cruisin'." You mustered up a stern voice.

You lost James’ touch without a word. Your heart dropped as you reached out to find nothing.

"James?"

"I'm here. Gimme a sec, doll."

Your heartbeat returned to normal, and the fear of being left alone was gone as quickly as it had entered your mind. 

"Okay, I'm going to come up behind you now."

You felt the warmth before his torso pressed into your back. His body encircled, and a not-so-unfamiliar feeling ignited in your belly as he whispered in your ear.

"Hope you like this doll. You deserve the best."

James removed the blindfold, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the fading sunlight. Slowly, you looked out over the golden meadow. The blanket, a wicker basket at one, and James’ leather boots on the other, at the foot of the oak tree made your smile widen.

You turned to James with your hands on his chest, "A picnic? For me? Oh, you shouldn't have."

He smirked and lightly kissed your forehead, "I definitely should have.”

Your head rested on Bucky's lap, his arm draped across your waist underneath the makeshift blanket of his leather jacket. Stomachs full from sandwiches and treats. The peace of being close to one another brought unbreakable smiles to your faces.

"Y'know what, doll, I'm so glad Ma moved out of Brooklyn last year. I miss home. But I’d never have met you if I hadn't come here."

You grinned up at him and caressed his cheek, enjoying the scratch from the stubble on his jaw. James leaned into your palm and peppered a kiss there.

His face contorted away from adoration to neutral in a flash. You might have missed the shift if you didn’t know him as well as you did.

“What you thinkin’ about stud?”

“Nothing, it's silly,” his cheeks tinged pink, and he looked away.

Gently, you turned his face towards your line of sight, “This is silly.”

You pulled a ridiculous face with your eyes crossed and tongue sticking out while rocking your head from side to side. James chuckled, and the crinkle of his eyes warmed your heart.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’m hopelessly devoted to you,” He whispered back and kissed you once more.

After you enjoyed the last moments of the sunset, Bucky helped you to stand up. You brushed your skirt down and draped his jacket over your shoulders. Then you heard the sound of clicking and scraping.

You followed the noise to find James braced against the tree trunk. You unashamedly gazed at how his muscular arms and back shifted under his top. The propped foot at the roots gave an enticing shape to his behind in the already tight black denim. You almost missed him calling out your name.

Bucky moved away from the tree, closing and pocketing the pen knife to reveal his handiwork.

Yours and his name inside a heart, etched into the bark, for all eternity.

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[midniiights-garden]

To Those Beyond The Sea - Mizu x filipino!Reader

(A/N: THIS IS FOR THE LOVELY ANON @dinadearine!! I wanted my main ff to be more of the reader escaping to Japan bc of the Spanish, but I loved this idea sm so I still wanted to write something for it!! I hope you like it <33)

Possible TWs!!!: Sex, Canon typical violence, possibly ooc?

Mizu was rather pissed off when the captain of her ship told her they would be making a stop over at a nearby country before moving onto Britain. After all, in her eyes it was simply a waste of time. Why would she want to spend time in a place that didn't aid her search for vengence after all? That was the price to pay for choosing a cargo ship instead of one ferrying passengers. So, she begrudgingly acknowledged the statement before turning her gaze back to the sea, her eyes scanning the waves for unknown answers.

Her ship arrives at it's destination the next morning. Mizu is surprised to find herself in a warm, tropical country. It wasn't that far away from her homeland of Japan, and yet the scenery was worlds away. The sun beat down onto her heavily, making her sweat in her disguise. She suddenly regretted not packing lighter clothing. The air here was humid, thick. She could feel it sticking to her skin and frankly she was at a loss as to whether or not it was a good thing or not. And then there was the town. It was a quaint sea side port, but it was full of life. Children ran around the streets, yelling and playing happily with one another. Vendors were selling their wares, there were people singing and laugh... and there was chatter everywhere. Quite different to Japan. A part of her finds this stark difference endearing. Everyone here seemed so... happy. She notes the darker skin tone of the people around her, marveling in it's beauty. The people here were beautiful. And Mizu couldn't decide whether or not it was because of their smiles or their features.

But she was sweating. Really badly.

"Fuck," she mutters, shrugging off her haori. She couldn't risk revealing her identity as a woman, but at the same time she was pretty sure she would die if she didn't get some new clothes. So she disembarked, stepping onto the docks of the town and heading inwards to search for a tailor who could help her.

Suddenly, someone bumps into her. One of the native women. Mizu had to catch herself from staring. The woman before her was considerably shorter her tanned skin shining beautifully in the sunlight. The stranger's hair was dark, so dark it was nearly black and it was tied up gracefully into a bun at the nape of her neck. The woman looks up at Mizu, warm brown eyes staring curiously into her blue ones.

"...pasensya na," the woman says, lowering her head bashfully.

Mizu stares, absolutely puzzled. What the hell was a passensha?

"Uhm... w-what?" Mizu replies, hoping that she didn't sound too awkward or nervous.

Mizu and the woman stare at each other for a while as it dawns on the both of them. They had no way to communicate. The woman bites down on her lower lip, looking worried. She suddenly points at herself and then at Mizu before making her hands bump together. "Ano... I..." she begins, her accent thick. She points back to herself and then bows dramatically. It finally dawns on Mizu... The woman was apologizing.

"I-It's," Mizu begins. "Ok." In an effort to communicate with the stranger she forces her lips into a smile, nodding her head as an acceptance of her apology. Much to Mizu's relief the woman smiles brightly, so brightly Mizu was certain that the sun itself had been reincarnated into this tiny human. The woman then points at herself again before speaking. She tells Mizu her name, a name that she had never heard of and yet was now finding incredibly beautiful. She repeats it, testing the syllables on her tongue before pointing to herself.

"Mizu," she says. The stranger, you, smiles. You test her name on your tounge as well, delighted to make another friend.

Meanwhile Mizu is quite literally sweating to death, having previously been too distracted by the new figure to notice her state. She was now thrown back to reality by the sticky feeling of her clothing against her back. Mizu taps your shoulder, pointing at her clothes.

"Need... new ones," she says to you. You seem to get the message, and you quickly lead her to a vendor. You chat with said vendor quickly, telling the lady running it that Mizu requires new clothing to suit the weather and she quickly whips something up for Mizu.

"Salamat po!" I say gratefully as I hand the clothing to the still sweating Mizu. Mizu takes the clothing gratefully, hurrying back to her ship to change into the lighter clothing. She sighed in relief as the light fabric touched her skin, cooling her off. When she exits her room she's surprised to find you still waiting for her at the dock. How persistent of you.

That meeting was now two weeks ago. The first meeting that would change the both of your lives. Mizu couldn't help but be drawn in by your welcoming, sunny nature. It was so sincere, so sweet that she was sucked in as if she was stuck in a vat of taffy. Within those two weeks you had both learned to communicate through English (which Mizu found additionally helpful considering she would need to know English to get around Britain). Mizu eventually ended up telling you about her past. About how she was really a woman in disguise, how she had murdered her husband and how she was killing all the men who had the audacity to force her into being. And yet despite knowing all these truths you never once stopped smiling at her the same way. Not even when you had begged her to spar with you and lost. When she pinned you down Mizu was afraid it would be a repeat of Mikio, and yet all you did was giggle. You giggled and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

That was when she realized something that both elated and horrified her. She loved you. Mizu had fallen head over heels for you. For your sunny personality, for your smile for everything. She pulls away from you briefly, trying to process the warmth she felt in her chest at the sight of you. When she does come back to you the first thing she does is apologize.

"For what?" You ask her, tilting your head to the side.

"For disappearing so suddenly," Mizu replies.

"Oh? That? I just figured you needed space," you say, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Goddamn it. Will you stop being so damn cute?" Mizu hisses, suddenly clamping down on her own mouth once she realized what she had said. Meanwhile you stand there briefly, shocked at what she just said.

"Cute?" You ask. "You think.. I'm cute?"

"Yes," Mizu groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Listen, I... I love-"

You cut her off. "I love you too."

Mizu's heart stutters, her breath hitching in her throat. You loved her back. Now without reservation she grabbed ahold of you by the collar of your blouse, pulling you forward and kissing you.

Kissing turned to making out and making out turned to grinding and before either of you could process it you were both unclothed, your bodies intertwined intimately.

"You're beautiful," you whisper between moans.

For once Mizu almost cried; not out of anger or despair... But this time out of joy. After the intense night of pleasure you slept in each others arms, taking solace in the warmth of your lover.

Come morning Mizu held you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. What was once a stop over she had deemed unnecessary became one of the most important events in her life. But she would have to go soon, and they both knew it. You both spend the rest of your time together as a couple, whispered words of comfort and love shared between the both of you. And the night before her departure from your warm homeland you got married.

"Mizu," I whisper after our small ceremony. "I hope you know I'm coming with you."

Mizu's eyes widened.

"What? Are you crazy!?! You'll get hurt! I-" She is promptly shut up by your finger on her lips, your dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Shh, love. I'm coming with. I'm your wife now, as you are mine. And I promise to do whatever it takes to help you in your quest. I promise. Mahal kita," you whisper, kissing her tenderly. Mizu knew better than to argue. Not with your stubborn personality. Which is how she now finds herself in London, her beautiful wife at her side. From now until forever more.

Translations!!:

Pasensya na - Excuse me

Ano - What

Salamat po - Thank you (sir/ma'am - idk how to translate po tbh)

Mahal kita - I love you

(A/N: ANNDDDD DONE!! :D I hope this was up to your standards!! I'm sorry the smut part is so short it's more implied if anything 😭😭I was too scared to make it longer but I swear I'll do a proper smut scene in the future. As usual, if anyone has any suggestion, comments or requests feel free to ask!! Love y'all <3)

[scotianostra]

On September 26th 1934 the Liner Queen Mary launched at John Brown’s shipyard, Clydebank.

The construction of still the unnamed Cunard Queen Mary ship began in December 1930 (the ship’s keel was laid down on 31 January 1931) in the yard of “John Brown & Co” at Clydebank. The launch was scheduled for May 1932, but the work on the ship was suspended in December 1931 due to the world economic depression. A loan of 9.5 million pounds from the Government was granted to the Cunard Line with enough money to complete the Queen Mary ship and to build a second liner – the Queen Elizabeth.

As a direct result of this most advantageous deal, the Cunard Line merged with its main rival White Star on 10th May 1934 into Cunard White Star Ltd. The Queen Mary construction resumed in April 1934, the liner was completed by August and launched on 26th September at a total cost of 3.5 million pounds sterling.

The work was completed in March 1936. The Queen Mary ship sailed out for preliminary trials and after being painted in Southampton, the liner was handed over to Cunard White Star Line on 11th May 1936. RMS Queen Mary ship first sailing was on 14th May with its Transatlantic itinerary being Southampton-Cherbourg-New York. By May 1937 the liner had carried a total of almost 57,000 passengers.

The main speed-rival of the QM ship was SS Normandie – a liner built in France and operated by the French Compagnie Generale Transatlantique line. The Queen Mary took the Blue Riband (the prestigious award given to a ship with the speed record for a transatlantic crossing) from the French liner SS Normandie in August 1938, with record speeds for both west- and eastbound crossings of the Atlantic Ocean – the average speeds was, respectively, 30,63 kn (35m25 mph, 56,7 km/h) and 30,14 kn (34,68 mph, 55,82 km/h).

In 1937, the Normandie liner was refitted with new propellers, enabling her to take the Blue Riband, but in 1938 the Queen Mary ship reclaim the honour for best speeds in both directions – westbound 30,99 kn (35,66 mph, 57.39 km/h) and eastbound 31,69 kn (36,47 mph, 58.69 km/h). This record was beaten by the SS United Sates liner in 1952.

The last commercial sailing of the ship Queen Mary was on 30 August 1939 departing from Southampton and then berthed at New York until the end of 1939. With the outbreak of the Second World War, she was converted into a troopship and ferried Allied soldiers for the duration of the war.

Following the war, Queen Mary was refitted for passenger service and along with Queen Elizabeth commenced the two-ship transatlantic passenger service for which the two ships were initially built. The two ships dominated the transatlantic passenger transportation market until the dawn of the jet age in the late 1950s. By the mid-1960s, Queen Mary was ageing and, though still among the most popular transatlantic liners, was operating at a loss.

After several years of decreased profits for Cunard Line, Queen Mary was officially retired from service in 1967. She left Southampton for the last time on 31 October 1967 and sailed to the port of Long Beach, California, United States, where she remains permanently moored. Much of the machinery, including one of the two engine rooms, three of the four propellers, and all of the boilers, were removed. The ship serves as a tourist attraction featuring restaurants, a museum and a hotel. The ship is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The National Trust for Historic Preservation has accepted the Queen Mary as part of the Historic Hotels of America.

RMS Queen Mary remains in Long Beach but recently it has been reported it is in need of significant repairs according to assessments and photos in 2019 and 2020. An estimated $289 million in repairs are needed after years of decline and the most recent operator going bankrupt.But even to “retire and recycle” the liner could cost up to $190m. One of the suggestions are to dismantle and sink the liner, although no long term plans have been finalised as yet.

The Queen Mary is due to open again to visitors next month, let’s hope someone can come up with a rescue plan to save her.

It has been mooted that it could return to the Clyde but the eyewatering amount of money it would take surely rules this out.