#shortandsweet

[glitterforashes]

𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ; 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

>>> sally fisher and larry johnson as per usual, fluff, comfort for sal, usual tomfooleries for larry, lake hc’s. enjoy!

𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 —

doesn’t like to swim, just sits on the shore

will get in to about waist length if you ask nicely

hates being splashed. will immediately get back out

brings his gameboy in case he gets bored

usually only goes with you, larry, ash and todd. wont go alone or one on one with anyone.

doesn’t wear just swim trunks, wears a tshirt over them

refuses to get his hair wet like a little girl

burns. so bad. needs to be absolutely slathered in sunscreen to not go up in flames

“sally, get in the water! it’s so waaarm!” you whined at him, wading through the lake that was surprisingly clear. even if you went deep, you could still see your toes beneath the water. “no, i’m good.” he called back to you, face hidden behind his beloved gameboy. you, todd and ash all stood about waist length in the water, just wading around and talking. sally refused to get in, and larry had run back to ash’s car to get the cooler. something was clearly wrong with sally. usually he’d get in, even if it was only to his ankles. with a pout on your lips, you slicked your hair back and climbed out of the water, set on finding out what was bothering your beloved boy. you plopped down on the rickety lawn chair next to him, crossing one leg over the other and facing your body towards him, giving him your utmost attention. “what’s the matter, sal?” you asked softly, gently running your fingers against his pale arm. “nothing. just don’t feel like swimming today.” he mumbled, keeping focus solely on the game. you looked at him, studying his face. “sal, i know there’s something wrong. what’s bugging you?” his shoulders slumped as he sighed, lowering the game boy. he looked over at you, vulnerability in his eyes. “are you interested in todd?” he asked, searching your face. your eyes widened. “what? no. where did that come from?” “just.. you two have been spending a lot of time together. it’s okay if you don’t want to be with me anymore.” your shoulders slumped and you reached out, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “no, sally. you’re the only one i want. besides.. i’m pretty sure todd swings the other way, if you know what i mean.” sal chuckled a bit, seeming to loosen up. “yeah. okay. sorry, (y/n).” you shook your head and leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against the cheek of his mask. “nothing to be sorry for, sally-wally.” your laugh echoed across the lake as he physically cringed, you could practically see his face through the mask. “please. never call me that again.” “okay, sally wally pooh.”

𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

wears big goofy goggles and swims down to the deep parts of the lake to find cool rocks for you.

religiously wears a goofy pair of duck print swim shorts.

ties his hair up in a bun, you love it.

REFUSES to wear sunscreen, always gets sunburnt. turns tan the next day, but complains about the sunburn until then.

likes it when you make sandwiches for him and bring them to the lake. tears them up. absolutely devours them.

sleeps on the ride back home.

likes going to the lake one on one with you, but will also go with the others.

likes to use water guns when the others are around.

“larry, please just put sunscreen on your shoulders if anything.” “no, (y/n)! sunscreen is for losers.” you hovered over him as he tugged goggles onto his face, heavily insistent on burning to a crisp. “sunscreen is not for losers, it’s for people who don’t want to get melanoma and look like a raisin by the age of twenty.” he huffed and spread his arms out finally, doing a little turn so you could coat all the visible parts of his body in sunscreen. luckily, it was the spray on kind, so his complaining was minimal. after that dramatic scene, you two were splashing about, scaring every fish within a ten mile radius. “larry! stop it, you’re getting water up my nose!” you screeched, coughing up and blowing out water from basically ever sinus you possibly could. he laughed as he bombarded you with comically large splashes, absolutely drenching your face and hair in the span of four seconds. that went on until you got close enough to grab a handful of his hair and shove his head under the water, effectively stopping his attacks and almost drowning him. you two went home soggy, tired, and hungry, collapsing onto his bed. lisa found you both hours later and snapped a picture. now, hanging on larry’s fridge is a candid shot of you and him, sprawled out across the bed, sheets wet, tangled in each others limbs. larry has his head at the foot of the bed and one of his legs hanging off the side, while you have your head resting against his abdomen and your legs propped up against the wall. however, the part lisa liked the most was the fact despite being asleep, you two had managed to find each others hands and interlock pinkies.

[r-f-m-writes]

A Lark In a Hollow Chapter One

Really, she doesn't have a choice.

Lark barely remembers the huge shadow of a man sitting beside her in the dead heat of Mrs. Poppy's office at the children's home. He is silent, stoic, and completely terrifying.

Christopher Hollow.

Muscled.

Six foot five.

Storm blue eyes.

Dog tags outlined under the straining stretch of his black tee-shirt.

"Lark," Mrs. Poppy says, gently, "you're happy with this arrangement? You want to go with your Godfather?"

There's no money left for her to live off until she finds a job - if she finds a job.

Her Dad is dead.

Lark doesn't have a choice.

Lark Douglas didn’t know who Christopher Hollow was when Mrs. Poppy brought his name up to her on a hot Saturday afternoon in her office. The additional details that he had served with her Dad in Afghanistan and was her appointed legal guardian and Godfather did nothing to help jog Lark’s memory.

      In fact, it was a full week after Mrs. Poppy informed Lark of Christopher Hollow’s existence that the girl finally managed to scrounge up a single, short, fuzzy memory of the man.

         She was home.

         The door to their flat was open, the old ceiling fan had been turning in slow circles over her head. It did nothing to fight against the mid July heat that was so stifling and muggy it made her skin stick to the linoleum floors. She had sat on the couch playing with Labrador, her stuffed toy dog, when Mom walked in with someone.

        Lark was five, she thinks, and she hadn’t paid attention to anything that was being said, or looked at who had stepped the room after her mother. She only glanced up from where she was making her stuffed dog do backflips off the worn-down couch cushions when big, black boots stepped into her vision off the edge of the sofa.

       The man who stood in front of her was tall, wearing camo pants and a fitted grey tee-shirt. His face was hard to remember, but Lark thought he had sandy brown hair and the start of a thick brown beard. He had crouched down, setting aside a battered black duffle bag, looking at her like he expected something.

     Lark had only stared at him.

      Mom’s voice had a strain in it when she spoke.

     “Say hi to Chris, baby. He’s come all the way from the airport just to see you.”

     The man spoke before Lark had the chance. He had a deep, rough rumbly voice.

     “Don’t worry her about it, Lori. Been two years. I’d be surprised if Pet remembered me at all.”

      Pet.

      That was the only memory Lark had of Christopher.

      She wasn’t even sure it was real and not just something she had made up in the recesses of her mind as an unconscious effort to help herself fill in the gaps and feel less uncertain.

     She had lots of memories like that.

      Memories no one else could verify. Memories she wasn’t sure happened, but couldn’t shake as being real.

      This was what led Lark to where she stood at the top of the worn flight of wooden stairs.  Seventeen years old, dressed in clothes that didn’t belong to her, feeling entirely unsure of what the future would hold.

      Seventeen, and only three weeks and four days shy of her eighteenth birthday.

     It was ridiculous.

     Stupid, even.

     Why couldn’t she just wait it out at the girl’s home?

     Why was Mrs. Poppy was obligated, by law, to reach out to relatives Lark had never even heard of and negotiate with them down the phone, asking and then, after the eighth rejection, pleading with each of them to come and pick her up?

      “Just a month - no, no, you wouldn’t have to commit to adoption, Mrs. Tanner - not at all. I am only reaching out because Lark is your niece, and I am sure you want the best for her -”

     The list thinned, name by name. Lark saw them each time Mrs. Poppy opened the manilla envelope with her initials on it, glancing over the struck off phone numbers and feeling nothing.

    The rejections didn’t surprise her.

    She knew from lived experience how reluctant people were to help a stranger.

     It took less than half a week for them to reach the last one.

     His name.

     Christopher Hollow.

     He was who Lark was waiting for as she hung onto the banister, her dark eyes fixed on the panes of frosted glass in the door, anticipating seeing a shadow blot across the panels when he stepped onto the porch and rang the buzzer.

     Floorboards creaked.

     Lark moved too late when Mrs. Poppy stepped out of her office that stood at the side of the stairs. The stacked blonde beehive of her hair bobbing into the girl’s view as Lark tried to scurry back out of her sight.

    Too little, too late.

    The kind wrinkles around Mrs. Poppy’s eyes doubled and deepened as the sound made her look upward and spot Lark.

     “Lark, there you are! I was just about to come and find you, dear. Nip down into my office for a moment, I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you before Mr. Hollow arrives.”

    The old stairs squeaked loudly as the girl walked sheepishly down the grossly worn-out blue carpet runner, rounding the curved banister at the bottom to follow Mrs. Poppy into her office.

    It was sun warm inside, light spilling over the faded hardwood floor and shiny varnish of the big, brown desk, highlighting the dozens of ring-marks stained into its top by mugs of coffee past. Mrs. Poppy rounded the desk, having to skirt sideways between the edge of it and the rows of heavy metal file drawers that flanked the room on all sides.

   Taking her perch in a black wheely chair, the woman gestured for Lark to sit in one of the two big, green, retro velvet sofas that faced her desk.

      Sinking down into her seat, Lark folded her hands in her lap and looked at the woman, waiting to be spoken to. She had been thoroughly taught from a young age that she was to be seen and not heard. There had also been plenty of occasions when Lark wasn’t to be seen or heard. Those were moments when her half empty pink, princess wardrobe came in handy.

        Mrs. Poppy placed a pair of up-swept cat eye spectacles on the tip of her tall, gently crooked nose, and took out a notepad. It was one of dozens she had, this particular piece of stationary sported Lark’s name on its front, written in black pen and then broadly underlined in purple marker.

       “Miss Douglas today is a big one for you. How are you feeling, hon? Excited? Nervous?”

        The soft slip of her southern accent calmed Lark some as she fought against the urge to fidget, keeping her fingers still in her lap.

        “Excited, Ma’am. Dad didn’t like to travel much, so seeing the Appalachians sounds like a real adventure.”

        Lark stuck a quick smile onto the end of her lie. She had rehearsed it in her head a hundred times since she was told the good news a week before.

        Christopher Hollow wanted her.

        He was driving the whole way down the coast from his home in the Appalachian Mountains to come and collect her. Lark couldn’t even comprehend where the Appalachian Mountains stood, just that they were stupendously far away.

        Mrs. Poppy grinned at Lark, genuine and radiant, as she wrote something in fast scratching cursive over and empty line of the notepad.

       “Always such an optimist, Lark. I’m sure Mr. Hollow will be delighted by you.”

        Lark’s left thumb twitched. When she smiled, it felt tight in the corners, “I certainly hope so, Ma’am.”

        And she truly did. Lark knew the way men behaved when they weren’t delighted by her.

~R.F.M~

         A fist gripped long, brown hair tightly enough to tear dozens of strands out of Lark’s scalp as she was dragged down the hallway by her head, the girl’s frame stooped almost to the floor as she clawed at the hands restraining her.

       “Fucking little bitch coming to steal from me? Think you’re slick, huh?”

         In honesty, Lark did.

        She had stolen from the man before on countless occasions, rummaging through the contents of his worn leather wallet, fishing out loose coins and dollar notes that wouldn’t be missed. Before, he was always too out of his mind to realize, so Lark had gotten greedy.

        Twenty dollars was a lot of money to people like them. She was foolish for thinking she could snatch it away without his notice.

       Lark didn’t know his name, or his age, or anything about him other than the fact he bought pot on Thursday afternoons and left the door to his apartment wide open with 90’s music playing full volume while he sat out on his balcony in a beat-up pink recliner, back to the living room, smoking.

         By all accounts, the man wasn’t very smart. But he was still a man, a man much stronger than Lark.

[gfnicarl]

Butterflies

Carl Grimes X Reader

You and Carl were on a run to find needed supplies, you slow down a bit cause your feet is aching due to your shoes. He noticed you slowed down and turned his head to you, looking at your uncomfortable face. He immediately took off his shoes and put it infront of you "here take of your shoes and put mine", you stared at him and shaked your head "no I'm fine". When he heard your response his eyebrows arched up and spoke "if you don't, that means you don't love me". Your eyes get shocked, shaking your head "what about you, you be walking barefoot?". He smiled at you as he holds your shoes in his hands "i can handle the pain of walking bare foot and heat, what i can't handle is seeing you like that"

You smiled as you started to wear his shoes and those words from him is still ringing from your ears and mind. You both started to walk again when Carl suddenly puts his hat on your head "that's better"

[maxipad032]

pov: you have a bad habit of going out and drinking, which shuri doesn’t like as she worries for your safety.

short + sweet headcanon w/ protective shuri✨

shuri sighed heavily as she put her phone down on the bed next to her after calling you for the past hour. you haven’t been picking up and she grew more and more worried, her bouncing leg showing her anxiety. she tried to connect to your kimoyo beads but quickly noticed that you’d left them at home as you always did even when she told you it was important you took them with you incase anything happened.

you left to go to the nightclub with your friends at around 8pm and it was currently 4am as shuri purposely and patiently stayed up to wait for you. normally, she was in the lab anyway so it wasn’t hard to avoid sleeping but being in her bedroom was making it increasingly difficult to remain awake. although, her constant worrying about you made it easier. she’d insisted to come with you but you knew she had work to do in the morning and you’d feel guilty if she wasn’t able to so, so you convinced her not to come and just stay home.

“shit man, where the fuck is she?” shuri questioned into thin air as she sat up, running her hands lazily through her curls as she thought about what to do. just then, she heard the door slam open and shut as the sound of clacking heels echoed around the house. hearing it, shuri shot out of bed and went into the living room, seeing you leaning down on the counter and looking absolutely out of it with your head down and hair splayed everywhere.

“y/n, baby are you okay?” shuri hurriedly rushed over to you, lifting you up by your shoulders and checking to see if you were okay. you lazily lifted your head up at her and smiled, trying to reach up to her face but nearly falling in the process as you missed your footing. shuri held you again before you fell and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you into your shared room. she sat you on the soft bed and turned off all the lights in the house before closing the door gently.

you slumped down onto the bed, your eyes barely opening as your head pounded and mouth was dry; you didn’t mean to get so wasted, but your friends were egging you on to drink more and you never turned down a challenge so…voila.

“y/n y/l/n.” shuri called out in a stern voice as she stayed, leaning up against the cream coloured door, arms crossed like a nursery teacher.

“mmm.” you groaned out, not able to make sentences yet as you tossed and turned.

“do you have any idea what the time is?” shuri asked, her tone becoming harsher.

“ehh…no.” you said quietly, not really being able to comprehend what she was saying.

“it’s fucking 4am and you left at 8pm? you said you’d be back by 1am, and not to mention you didn’t answer your phone or bring your kimoyo beads? what if something happened to you? i stop at nothing to guarantee your safety but you go and do incredibly stupid things that make it hard to look out for you. at this point i’m actually so tired of it, you need to limit your drinking because it’s getting out of hand!”

you slowly opened your eyes and leaned up, sensing that she was upset at you.

“baby…are you really that mad? come on, i’m here aren’t i?” you pouted, squinting at her as you tried to make out her face.

“that’s not my point here,” shuri began as she walked towards you, “my point is that you are being very irresponsible, you’re an adult for gods sake not a teenager.” shuri said sassily, sitting on the bed as she watched you try to talk back, but not being able to because you’re completely drunk out of your mind.

“mmm..sorry baby.” is all you managed to get out as you were completely void of emotion which was a complete contrast to your sober self which would’ve been sobbing if shuri talked to you like this.

“whatever, just go to sleep, i’ll get you some pills and water or else you’re gonna end up with one heck of a hangover tomorrow.” shuri rolled her eyes, getting up to rustle through her drawers for the pills and opening an unopened water bottle to place at your bedside.

she was able to make you take them before helping you to undress, taking off your high heels, tight blue dress and even wiping off your heavy makeup. then, she dried your face off and slipped you into some comfy pj’s whilst you basically fell asleep as was doing it like a literal baby. yes, she was mad at you but fucking hell you were cute as hell, she’d give you a proper scolding tomorrow, when you were sober and could actually understand. she tucked you in and got in bed herself in which you were already snoring hard as fuck and she quietly laughed , kissing your forehead before wishing you a goodnight, “goodnight my angel, bast i don’t know what i would’ve if something bad had happened to you.” she muttered, finding comfort in hearing the low thrumming of your chest and eventually going to sleep too, dwelling in the comfort that you were safe and in her arms as you should be.

[dontdieonmeyet]

love is not a service

as i grow and become

i realise that to be loved is not the same as love itself

for many people will love you in their own way

without realising that maybe

i don't need to be given water and fed in the sunlight

but the flower itself

[letterstomonkey]

Side Effects

12/29/2017

I've never found a lover

Who hasn't come down with a disease

Same old story, every time

A record on repeat

I try my best to nurse them

Though I haven't a degree

I spend my riches on medicine,

Though none are as sick as me

[hihelloheyhowdy]

@hihelloheyhowdy Okay, well, I wondered if you would like to write headcanons for Shoto with a S/O that writes songs as a hobby and they sing really well too. But the songs are the most toe-curling, gut-wrenchingly sad songs. Oh, and also, how he would react to a partner with a very loud and infectious laugh.

I love this headcanon so much

when you guys got together Todoroki knew you had some hard experiences in your life

he didn't judge, his past wasn't exactly a perfect tv-show childhood

however that doesn't stop the wave of sadness when he reads the lyrics to some of your songs

he's proud of you for finding a way to express yourself

reminds you he is always there if you need comfort

is stunned at how beautifully you can use your words in writing lyrics

he think you make even something so heart wrenching sound so melodic

he however doesn't understand why someone as wonderful as you, would have to have gone through a horrible thing

Todoroki doesn't laugh much- especially in public

However he finds himself smiling whenever you laugh

He think it sounds so pretty

would give anything to have it on reply

and it is always on reply in the back of his mind

when you two are alone together, he finds himself laughing more

he just loves hearing you laugh, and seeing you smile, and basically everything about you.

after reading your lyrics, and seeing how you can still smile and laugh so brightly he finds himself promising to make sure you won't be hurt any further, and that you'll keep smiling like that.

when you do feel ready to open up beyond letting him read the lyrics, he'll be there ready to (attempt to) comfort you in anyway you need

sorry it isn't long, this has been sitting in my drafts for months, and life's been a mess. Hope you can still enjoy this though.

[rachellerosziel]

First one shot of record of ragnarok

Never Losing You

Hades x femReader

Warnings: None a lot of fluff and comfort

Requested: No

Words: 407

It was a cold day in the underworld and y/n was sitting on a few rocks next to Cerberus. She could feel the calm wind blow through her hair. Eventually she got up to head inside the large palace. Yes she was the wife of Hades King of the underworld. The royal life was not as you expected, yes it was nice but there were some things that didn’t seem to fit.

One of those things was the fact that she had to attend special meetings with Hades along with his brothers. She already knew Poseidon didn’t like her… well never liked anyone for that matter. However, this wasn't the problem she had with being the queen of the underworld. The problem was all the servants, the female servants to be precise.

She tried not to get jealous of the servants, but it was difficult and she was now sitting in their shared room crying. She had seen one of the servants, Mariese being all “Friendly” with her husband. She couldn't take it so she went to their room. Hades had seen what happened as he was talking to her about ideas for your birthday. He soon walked to the room and gently knocked on the door, and eventually entered the room.

“Darling? Are you alright? What has gotten you so upset that you refuse to see me or even greet me when I return from a meeting with my brothers?” He asked her gently

Y/n looked at him as she sniffled and wiped the tears quickly and shook her head. She soon turned away from him and held her arms close to her. Hades knew what was wrong as he couldn’t help but smile and let out a soft chuckle. He eventually got on the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

“Love, there’s no need to be jealous. I'm not going anywhere. You will never lose me Y/N.” He told her as he held his wife close letting them just sit in silence.

Y/n smiled softly as she nodded softly and moved closer to him. She soon laid her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat and fell asleep to the sound of his heart and the soft thuds of rain on the windows.

The end

[t00thpastekissess]

"May we raise children

who love the unloved

things–the dandelion, the

worms and spiderlings.

Children who sense

the rose needs the thorn

& run into rainswept days

the same way they

turn towards sun…

And when they’re grown &

someone has to speak for those who have no voice

may they draw upon that

wilder bond, those days of

tending tender things

and be the ones to speak."

by Nicolette Sowder

[r-f-m-writes]

Bittersweet BabyGirl Chapter One

“Please sign here, miss Bennet.” Pedro’s penthouse was luxurious and sun warm around her, everything inside it smelling of him - just the way she liked. Sarah scrawled her name on the certificate of adoption. “This mean I have to call you Daddy now, Pedge?” Looking over a shoulder at her co star turned father, she passed the pen back to his lawyer. Pedro grinned, hands in pockets. The way he stared at her was about as subtle as a slap across the face. “Only when you want to, babygirl.” The lawyer supervising the signing looked uncomfortable. Sarah was impressed he seemed able to sense something that usually went over people's heads. That tension, running an undercurrent through every moment she and Pedro shared. She knew none of this was innocent. And it thrilled her. He thrilled her.

The knife against Ray’s throat was even colder than the night air that pressed around her, thin material of her worn out waffled thermal doing nothing to fight the cold as she was pinned against the front of Aiden’s chest, jaw grasped tight, forcing her to stare ahead, right at him .

     “One more step and I’ll open up your girl, Mills, I swear to God.”

    He was erratic. Voice shaking, breath puffing hot against the side of Ray’s face while her hands trembled, her own lungs barely able to gasp a clean swallow of air with how deeply the blade of his knife was pressed into her skin. When his voice came from the darkness, it was a balm to all her fears. Salvation, safety, love .

        “Alrigh’. Easy , Aiden. Let’s talk about this.”

    Ray’s feet stumbled under her when she was jerked backwards, open hands flinching in the air as the man behind her yanked her painfully to move with him.

        “No, no more talking. I am done with the fucking talking . Either you give me what I want, right now, or I take away the only thing you love. I’ll kill her, Mills. I swear .”

    Ray was panting now, hyperventilating around the choking blade. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. She was paralyzed in her fear. 

    “ Dad -”

    He stepped out of the shadowed tree line, rifle slung over his back, heavy winter coat expanding his already impossibly large frame. Slowly, he raised his hands, stance mirroring hers as his eyes shone in the dim light. When he spoke next, he was talking to Aiden, but staring at her. 

    “Alright. No talkin’. We do whatever you want, Aiden, however you want ta do it. Just say the word.”

   The press of the knife lessend. Ray felt her heart thundering, pulse spiking as she took deep pulls of air into her lungs, eyes welling up in relife and fear and hope as she watched her father step closer. She couldn't stop herself when she spoke again, desperate for him.

    “Daddy, I’m scared .” 

   Pain furled across his face at the terror in her tone and the use of an innocent name she hadn’t called him since she was a young child.

      “I know, babygirl. I know.”

    The bell rang out. George’s voice came, calm but precise, from the director's chair. “Cut!”

     Hot flood lights thawed the freezing air on set in a second as they doused the forest clearing in a golden glare. Samson drew the chilly prop knife away from Sarah’s throat. Pedro dropped his hands down to his sides and grinned at her. 

     The clapperboard snapped to mark the take.

     She was bolting toward her co-star before the camera had a chance to stop rolling, coiling  her arms tight around herself as she ran, “Fuck, I’m freezing .”

      Pedro threw his arms open, lifting the flaps of his warm winter jacket, ready to swaddle her the second her chest met his.

      “C’mere, you.”

     Somewhere behind them, Samson laughed. Sarah plastered herself against Pedro, pinning her icy hands between their bodies as the man grabbed the flaps of his jacket and wrapped them around her tight, squeezing narrow shoulders and rocking them back and forth on the spot. 

      “Still can’t believe Laura put you in this for a night shoot. Shirts paper thin, not gonna do a fuckin’ thing against the wind. Hey, George! This the last take? We’re all tired as hell, an babygirl ‘s about to lose her damn fingers.” 

    Relishing in the warmth pouring over her body and the ragged, woodsy smell of his cologne - which Sarah can tell Pedro applied a bit too liberally that morning - she didn’t say a peep, instead closing her eyes and burrowing her head as deep as she could in the collar of his shirt. 

    George’s voice came steady and tired in reply. “Yep, last take for tonight. I’ll put it through to get approved tomorrow - hopefully we won’t have to torture y’all with a reshoot.”

  Stepping down from his chair, the older man picked up his empty coffee cup off the grass, slotting the huge jumble of scripts against his hip as he began to walk away. 

   “Sarah, I liked what you did with it, good job. Samson, if we gotta shoot again, not so much shaking the knife, just hold it steady against her steady. Remember, you’re full of adrenaline, ready to go in for the kill. Otherwise, nicely done.”

   Pedro’s voice rumbled through Sarah as he called after their director with false offense. “Hey! What about me? I don’t get any notes?”

   Glancing over his shoulder with a good humored smile, George shook his head.

   “What about you, Pedro? You get it perfect - every single time. Now, stop fishing for compliments, and get her inside. I don’t want the best half of my father - daughter duo freezing to death in a shit hole like Toronto.”

     Smiling to herself, Sarah mumbled into her friend’s jacket. “You gonna let him get away with that diss, Mr. Emmy winner?”

    Rubbing his hands in quick passes of friction up and down her spine, the man hummed. 

    “Not a diss from where I’m standin’. You are the best part of our duo, babygirl .”

     He slipped briefly into Mills' deep, Texan accent for the last word. Sarah pulled a face and batted him on the chest. 

    “As if you fucking belive it. Carry me inside, I’m freezing, and exhausted.”

    Scoffing at her attitude, Pedro drew his head back the tiniest bit, peering down the handsome crook of his nose at her.

    “ Carry you? Nah. Don’t think I can do that on account ‘a my - what did you call them? Geriatric knee caps?”

     Groaning, Sarah hugged her arms around his waist tightly and searched for the humility to repent. 

    “Look, I’m sorry, OK? I was just teasing. Your knee caps aren’t geriatric, and you aren't geriatric so please, please carry me inside.” 

    Clicking his tongue like he would if he were still playing Mills, Pedro slid his hands down to grip the backs of her thighs, squeezing once in warning before hoisting her up around his waist.

    “All the things you’ve done to me, and I still carry you to bed. How do you manage it, Sarah? With those big brown eyes, fuckin’ can’t say no to anything.”

    Smiling, the girl let her head roll against the strong jut of his shoulder, watching the forest set shrink away behind them as he took her the short distance back to the trailers, every step bumping the flat of her stomach against his slightly softer one.

    The door to her caravan was unlocked, and Pedro deftly knocked the handle down with his boot, showing Sarah, without words and beyond a doubt, that he most certainly was not geriatric.

    Lights flicked on automatically as he walked up the short length of steps and trod into the sleek temporary living space. Last week’s scripts were scattered thoughtlessly over the built in couch, and two pairs of dirty bowls crowded the small table along with half drunk mugs of tea. Her kitchen wasn’t much better, with an open box of cereal and a quarter drunk gallon of whole milk left out on the counter. 

       Sarah made a fuzzy minded note to herself that she should throw both away the next day as Pedro muttered something disapproving in Italian so she couldn’t understand it. She hated when he did that.

      Her bedroom was the least shameful, with fresh floral sheets thrown over the queen sized mattress and none of her four sets of pillows scattered on the floor. Baby Bear lay lopsided against the headboard, looking up at her with mournful glass eyes as Pedro lowered her to the soft hug of the mattress. 

        The clock on her bedside said it was quarter past one in the morning. Sarah rolled her head, closing her eyes as she felt the laces of her - or, more accurately, Ray’s - boots being undone. 

        He undressed her slowly, careful and exact, mindful of the wardrobe pieces but always more conscious of her, his big, warm hands skimming her skin as he tugged off Ray’s jeans and pinched off her woolen socks. 

      The last thing to go was the thermal, beige colored and totally inadequate. He said something to himself as he drew it up over her head to unveil her sports bra benithe, muttering in quick, breathy sweeps of his first language while he balled it up and chucked it at the back wall.

     Stripped down to her underpants and bra, Sarah slowly opened her eyes again, peeking up at him through her lashes as he gestured for her to sit up. 

     She did. He took hold of the bottom of the tightly fitted bra, jutting his chin toward her nightstand as he began to peel the compressing fabric up.

    “You enjoyin’ the book I got you?”  

     Blinking hazily in the direction of what he was referring to, Sarah saw the pastel yellow cover and smiled.  

I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy.

       Lifting her arms to help with the challenging process of getting the activewear off, she laughed a little.

      “My mother wasn’t that bad, Pedro. Yes, she forced me into a career I didn’t want, but it was nothing like what Jennette went through.”

      Tossing the bra aside where he had thrown the shirt, the man looked down at Sarah with a disapproving pinch in his brows.

      “But you do relate to it. I didn’t give it to you to say what she did to you was that bad, I gave it to you as a reminder that you made the right choice last year. I don’t want you to start spiraling. You needed to cut her off, if you hadn’t she would have kept on taking from you. Money. Love. All the other shit she didn’t deserve.” 

    Sighing, Sarah sank back, nipples pebbling in the cool air of the trailer as she took hold of one corner of her duvet to pull it over herself, closing her eyes and blindly feeling around the bed for her teddy.

     “I know, Ped. I’m not spiraling, I’m just tired. Its been a long week.”

     Footsteps padded by her bedside. The feather-soft- fur of Baby Bear brushed the skin of her naked chest, pressed against her by a warm hand. Pedro’s mustache tickled her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her there. 

     “Get some rest, bambino . Remember, I’m just across the lot if you need me.”

      The rumbled pet name made Sarah smile as she moved her hand blindly to find the top of his head, gently scraping her fingernails through the soft, fluffy hair that grew there. 

     “I’m not seventeen anymore.”

     A soft chuckle came from the man at her sleepy, disgruntled tone. She didn’t have those nightmares anymore. She wasn’t a child anymore.

     “Maybe, but you’ll always be my babygirl, Sarah.”

      She didn’t remember him leaving, or herself falling asleep, but in a blink, it was morning again, light filtering through the small cracks around the blinds and waking her. 

      When she walked out of her bedroom, Sarah saw her dirty bowls washed and dried on the side board of the stainless steel sink. Her scripts sat in a perfect stack on the small dining table.     

Opening the mini fridge, there was a fresh bottle of milk and, when she looked toward the breakfast nook, two new boxes of her favorite cereal, a pink sticky note tacked to the front of one.

        Remember to look after yourself, bambi. If you’re struggling, tell me. I am here for you, always.

~P

[gethogwashed]

Short and Sweet

[dontdieonmeyet]

now, i'm not so sure

we were friends

we were in love

we were dating

and then we became distant

and now it's like we are who we are when we first met

and when people ask me "what are you two?"

i say the three things, a fourth

and "now, i'm not so sure"

[malibuhabits]

(first post ever aaaaah, still tryna figure out how this app works)

just literally like ten minutes ago saw a clip of parks and recreation season5 on tiktok and immediately had to made it abt steddie—idk if this has already been made (i mean, probably)…

Steve and Eddie telling their found family that they’re dating, and they all congratulate and smile and show support, until…

Nancy: Steve, you deserve the best, and you found it. Eddie, don’t you dare hurt him.

Eddie, laughing: Oh, I won’t!

Dustin, straight-faced: Don’t laugh. She means it.

Eddie: Okay, I- I won’t, I swear.

Hopper, frowning: Seriously, son, don’t hurt our Steve.

Eddie: …I’m not planning on hurting him.

Max: Yeah, you better not be.

Eddie, exclaiming: I’m not!

Erica: Hey, Eddie, you best watch yourself.

Eddie: Why would any of you think I would hurt Steve? You’re all my friends too.

Robin, shrugging in blunt dismissal: Nah.

Eddie spluttering incredulously while Steve laughs and hugs him gently.

[justadreamer08]

Love Spiderman, Love Me

Pairing: tom holland!peter parker x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 800 words (way less than I wanted)

Author's note: I haven't written anything in forever and this didn't really come out as long as I wanted it to, but I don't want to stretch it so....Enjoy?

Masterlist

You lived in the bustling city of New York. You'd always been an interesting person, full of kindness and curiosity, who had a heart that was open to love. Since you were young, felt a deep connection to the city, its people, and the everyday heroes who walked its streets. Your mother loved about him. You'd just been you and your dad. You guys lost your mom to bone cancer when you were in the 6th grade. You and your father had each other, and got through the hard times. The two of you grew closer through spending time, and your loves for science. You'd always been good at it, and he was just a huge geek. One of the things your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

One sunny afternoon, as you strolled through Central Park, you found yourself witnessing a crime in progress. A group of thieves had cornered an innocent civilian, and the situation seemed dire. Without a second thought and maybe some misplaced confidence, you sprang into action, using your quick reflexes and sharp wit to confront the criminals.

Unbeknownst to you, your act of heroism caught the attention of a familiar web-slinging figure nearby. It was none other than Spider-Man, the friendly neighborhood superhero. As Spider-Man swung into action, you found yourselves fighting side by side, your skills complementing each other perfectly.

Throughout the exhilarating battle, Alex and Spider-Man formed an unspoken bond, their movements synchronized as if you had been partners for years. The connection between you was undeniable, a mutual understanding that went beyond words.

After successfully apprehending the criminals, Spider-Man approached you and isolated the two of you, removing his mask to reveal the charming face of Peter Parker. You'd seen him around school, but never really talked to him much aside from conversations in your shared classes. He wasn't a bad looking guy, his brown curly hair appeared soft to the touch, landing slightly above his eyebrows having been ruffled by him removing his mask, his eyes wide and a deep brown, and his face soft but structured. He's actually pretty cute... His eyes sparkled with admiration as he looked at you, recognizing your bravery and unique spirit.

"Thank you for your help back there," Spider-Man said, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and curiosity. "I haven't seen someone with your skills in a long time. What's your name?"

You smiled warmly, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort in Spider-Man's presence. "I'm (r/n)," you replied. "And it was an honor to fight alongside you, Spider-Man."

"Peter..." he spoke, "I'm Peter." He hastily said, offering his hand to shake with a small smile.

As days turned into weeks, you and Peter found yourselves drawn to each other, spending more and more time together. Peter was captivated by your courage and unwavering sense of justice, while you admired Peter's dedication to protecting the city he loved. Your conversations were filled with laughter, shared dreams, and heartfelt moments.

You would often meet on rooftops, away from the prying eyes of the world, where you could be your true selves. You would share your hopes and fears, while Peter would confide in you about the challenges he faced as both Spider-Man and Peter Parker.

With each passing day, your connection deepened, evolving into something more profound. It wasn't just the shared experiences of crime-fighting that brought them closer but the unspoken understanding and support you offered one another.

One evening, as they watched the sun set over the city skyline, you turned to Peter, your heart beating with vulnerability. "Peter, I have something to tell you," they said softly. "I've fallen in love with you. Not just the hero behind the mask but the person beneath it."

Peter's eyes widened with surprise, and then a gentle smile curved his lips. "(R/N), I've been feeling the same way," he confessed, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You're an extraordinary individual, and being with you has brought joy and purpose to my life."

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them basking in the glow of their newfound love. You and Peter embraced, their hearts intertwining like the threads of a spider's web, creating a love story that transcended the boundaries of superheros and stories

Together, you would continue to fight for justice, using your unique abilities to protect the innocent and make the world a better place. And as you swung through the city, in Peter's arms, You and Peter knew that your love was an extraordinary force—one that would inspire and change lives, both on and off the pages of your own story.