he carries so much weight on his shoulders

I Give Up - part 28 FINAL (A Baekhyun Series)

“The pictures are out.”

Those four words held so much power. You felt a definite tremor inside your chest as you watched Baekhyun’s face closely. He had looked up into your eyes when he said it and his hand gripped his phone. It jumped around as he waited for something to load, staring down at the small screen with his eyes darting around and his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth.

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I think what is imporant for everyone to notice about Bellamy calling Clarke princess is that he was one of the only that DIDN’T call her Wanheda.

This is no coincidence. 

Throughout the episode, we saw everyone call her wanheda, from the grounders merely standing at Polis to Kane (!). Everyone reminding her of her mistakes, of her “value”.

But not Bellamy. After a whole day of being called Wanheda, Clarke hears Bellamy calling her princess. because that’s how he sees her. And no, not the “priviledged princess” he first thought of on season 1, but the Clarke that was a true leader (his co-leader), that girl that was a healer, that was innocent and fierce, passionate and strong, the girl who forgave him, the girl that made him question his own leading abilities, that would move crowds with her speeches, the princess from “i’m looking at you”, the princess from “our princess has that effect”, his princess.

While everyone else sees Clarke by the thing that she has done, the deaths in her hands and the weights on her shoulders, Bellamy still sees her as she always was for him, he still sees her as the person she is without all of that past she has to carry with her. While for everyone she’s this scary entity, for him, nothing has changed. 

Punk (Chap. 2)

Originally posted by kryzx

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 1805

Warnings: Cursing, low-self esteem, chubby!reader x bucky, idk….

A/N:  I hope you like this chapter, for some reason I enjoy it a lot though it’s not much.  I have a three day weekend coming up so hopefully I can continue working on my fics.  Thanks for your patience and I LOVE the feedback :]


Natasha Romanov was many things: ace assassin, hotshot hacker, super spy.  Pleasant in the morning?  No. Not one of her virtues. You might as well have poked a sleeping bear with a pointy stick; their reactions were generally the same.  Though the bear was more likely to let you live, come to think of it.  But desperate times called for desperate measures.

 The red head cradled her mug as she shuffled back towards the bed with eyes half open.  You took that as an invitation, though it probably wouldn’t work on vampires, you’d have to remember that should the time come.  You kicked the door shut and plopped onto the bed where a half-naked Clint was slowly entering the world of consciousness.  You signed “good morning” to him once his confused expression grazed from Natasha and back to you.  He grinned puckishly before speaking aloud, “Is it my birthday?”

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Little Spoon

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a little angst

Word Count: 584

Summary: After a bad mission you’re happy being anything that Bucky needs.

You knew that something had gone wrong the minute the team walked into the compound, none of them talking. They looked worse for wear, bruised and beaten down, all excitement over them being home dying in your throat as you looked them all over. 

Your eyes landed on Bucky last, trying not to show your hurt on your face when he didn’t acknowledge your presence at all. Normally he would have wrapped you into his arms, whispering how much he missed you while he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. 

That didn’t happen this time around though. Instead he walked straight past you, grabbing the bottle of scotch that Tony kept around, uncapping the bottle and downing a few mouthfuls, his adam’s apple bobbing in his scruff covered throat. You bit your lip, turning back towards Steve who shot you a sympathetic look. You knew it would have had to been bad for Bucky to ignore you like this and a part of you desperately wanted to know what had happened; but you also knew that sometimes he just needed his space. He’d come back to you eventually. 

You gave him one last once over before walking out of the room, heading back towards the elevators. Bucky would probably stay out there for a little while, finish off that bottle before stumbling into bed, you knew how this usually went.

You flipped on the light in your shared bedroom, leaving it on as you crawled under the covers on your bed, tugging them up and around your shoulders. A soft sigh left your lips as you stared up at the ceiling, your chest tight as you thought about Bucky torturing himself down stairs. You knew there was nothing you could do until Bucky came to you himself, you’d watched him push Steve and the rest of the team away too many times to count, but that didn’t stop the worry from knotting itself in your stomach. 


You blinked open your eyes as you felt the bed dip next to you, the bedroom now dark except for the light bleeding in through the crack under the door. You rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes, clearing away the sleep before looking at Bucky’s hunched over form, his back tight and tense. You tapped one of your fingers against his shoulder, opening up your arms when he turned to look at you. 

Bucky didn’t say anything and neither did you but you saw the smallest flicker of a smile on his lips as he laid down on the bed, letting you wrap your arms around his body. 

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Originally posted by kurtwellers

Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Frank angst coming your way! You can listen to THIS song while you read for an extra experience. Smut will be here soon too. Probably not tonight because I’m getting tired but soon.

You huffed as you lugged yourself up the stairs. You were fumbling with your keys when you heard familiar grunting coming from your doorway. You rounded the corner to see Frank, beat up and bleeding, leaning against your doorframe.

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Cute sentences prompt: Don’t

“I’m so in love with her/him, I don’t know what to do”

He paces around his dressing room and groans a little. “I hate this outfit”

He pushes his bottom lip forward, looking into the mirror, brows furrowed.

“You’ve been hating every outfit so far,” Brian huffs, holding up a navy blue button down shirt. “Try this one. This seems nice”

“Fuck this, I’ll just wear a plain black t-shirt,” Shawn growls and quickly gets out of the olive green shirt he is wearing.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” Matt asks, frowning at Shawn. “You seem weird and impatient and you are annoying”

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A rambly random drabble thing for 8 Days a Week. I had this going on in my mind for a phase further into the story but why wait when I can write it now while procrastinating right 

Otabek is tired.

Otabek has been tired ever since he moved to Russia. It’s never been the need to sleep it off or to go on a long vacation and watch the sunset by the beach. It’s been a slow decay; but a steady process, every passing day adding one more crack to one of his inner columns, the ones that help him stand up straight after a long day. And his days have been long. Endless. 

Otabek is used to inner cracks and the way the world seems slightly surreal when he is smack dab in the middle of a shitstorm. He is used to patching the cracks up as he goes, however shabby his plaster work may be. It keeps him going. It works; it makes him show up the next day, when he has gone home dead in the middle of the night, feeling like his limbs are trying to tear themselves away from him. Physical exhaustion is easy. The rest, that he cannot fix. And he has been sure that this was it; that this was how the rest of his short life would go until one day someone put a knife in his gut or a bullet in his head. He didn’t expect to experience the next level of fatigue and welcome it so eagerly.

Caring is exhausting, Otabek finds. A whole new level of exhausting… It’s a double-edged knife, cutting him deep, healing him fast. Yuri cannot restore his trembling core for he is the reason why Otabek is so tired, all day, every day.

It’s a new sensation to worry about someone else. Otabek is awake even when he is sleeping, his rough fingers are ready to reach the trigger any moment, just in case. He listens to everything, he watches everyone, he calculates every step and the next. Having his priorities shaken and rebuilt has sharpened his senses; he cannot let his guard down.

The only time Yuri leaves no room to other thoughts in his head is when he is seducing Otabek like sin, burning him from inside out; a calamity of temptation. Otabek knows he is hell-bound but Yuri is the devil and the angel, he is the scorch and the sooth, his undoing and his only blessing. Otabek loses his mind, buried deep in Yuri, making him cry out his name over and over like a forgotten spell, air getting too hot around them to breathe easily. Those moments feel like eternity, lasting hours and yet, they are over within a hummingbird’s bat of wings, leaving Otabek panting and hazy like he came off a rollercoaster. Worries and plans settle back into his mind, into their dark familiar corners where they spread like spider webs. He has so much to think about so Yuri will never even imagine them happening. It’s a weight on his shoulders, making him want to stretch and crack his joints but he never has the space for it, he has worlds to carry. May Hell be upon him if he stumbles.

He patches the cracks up as he goes, he carries on.

anonymous asked:

Emma, explain to me how Louis is able to remain true to himself and so strong despite everything that's happened to him in the past several years? Sometimes I truly have to just stop and think about the amount of strength he still has after people have made it their goal to try to ruin him. I honestly think he's an anomaly in this world; to be able to be shat on continuously and yet still have an amazing positive outlook on life and others....he truly is wonder boy.

Honesty, I think it’s a testament to a bunch of things - to how he was raised, to his enormous heart, to his bravery, and to his amazing support system. Jay did such a good job of raising him into an incredibly selfless and loving person, just as she proved herself to be over and over. The fact that they were so close, the constant love he showed for her, and the charity stuff they worked on together makes it clear that she played an enormous role in making him into who he is today. Louis is also just one of those people who has a heart way too big for his body. It constantly amazes me to see how much love he is capable of showing - to his family, Harry, Liam, Niall, Steve, the lads, fans, and even strangers that he helps through his charity work. He’s also incredibly brave and always has been - he posted his covers on YouTube, he tried out for TXF, he stood up for the band to people with significantly more power and industry experience than he had, he kept loving Harry and showed how proud he is of his sexuality over and over despite them pushing him to hide it and trying to make him look ashamed and hateful, he kept writing songs and singing even though they tried to make him feel like he didn’t belong in the band, he stood up for his friends and boyfriend and fans so many times even when it meant he got slammed in the press, he performed a song for his mom only days after his death, he defended Eleanor even when it got him arrested, and he’s done so many other incredibly brave things over the years that it would take me hours to list them all. And finally, I think Louis has a lot of people who love him, who prop him up when he can’t stand on his own, who take some of the weight from his shoulders when it’s too much for him to carry by himself. He almost NEVER shows weakness to his fans - he won’t really cry in front of us (even though the boys have said that he is a crier) and he always talks about his hardships in a really uplifting way even when he’s probably aching inside. But it’s so comforting to know that he gets to go home and fall into Harry’s arms, and that he has so many friends, family members, and fans that would do literally anything for him. We often don’t get to see the support he’s receiving, but it’s obvious that it’s there when you pay attention.

So anyway, that was a really long response that you probably didn’t want or need, but that’s why I think he’s been able to stay so strong. I’m so so so proud of him and I’ll never be able to find the words to express that properly, but damn, we’re lucky to be his fans. 💙

Perfect Remedies | Jason Todd x Reader

Description: Jason takes you away from your desk after three days without sleep, at least forty cups of coffee, and six 700-page textbooks. Bless that man.

Words: 859

Notes: I love Jason. Have I mentioned that before? Because I love him. Ask me to pick between the boys and I will AUTOMATICALLY PICK MY JAYBIRD.

Masterlist | Inbox

Taglist: @followeroonieclassic @robincoalition @puggleprincess @instantangelstudent

“Jason, I need to study.” You emphasized desperately. Jason continues walking, shifting your weight on his shoulder as he marches out of your hidey-hole in the conservatory of Wayne Manor. You huffed, crossing your arms and staring at the floor as it flies by. You hated to admit it because that meant you would succumb to it, but being carried down the hall over Jason’s shoulder is so much more fun in comparison to studying—even if it’s a subject you love.

Jason couldn’t help but think you’d started to become Tim Drake. Coffee had been your life’s blood for the past three days, and you had stated: “sleep is for the weak” at least twelve times by now. He’d gotten back from patrol maybe a half an hour ago, at two in the morning, and you were still hunched over a textbook by lamplight. It is definitely time for an intervention.

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Jared Padalecki is not your therapist

He’s not your best friend that you spill your deepest darkest secrets to. He’s a human being fighting his own battles and his own demons. Sure, you can go ahead and tell him that what he’s done has helped and what AKF has done has helped, but don’t fucking tell him your struggles and hardships. Because believe it or not, that takes a toll on him. He’s already carrying so much weight on his shoulders, he doesn’t need you to tell him the details of how you struggled with depression. We all remember what happened in 2015, do you want that to happen again?
Jared goes to conventions so that people can have fun. We want him to have fun too. We don’t want him to stop going to conventions entirely because of the stress and anxiety people put on him, do we? Of course not. So instead, if you really want to tell him how he’s helped, write it in a letter. That way he has time to recollect himself on his own instead of having to do it between fans at an autograph line.

Bedtime Stories

Pairings- Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Warnings- Fwuff :3

Requested by anon-

  Bruce stumbled out of the living room, with hardly any control on his faculties. He was exhausted, he was grumpy, he could feel several bruises throbbing into bloom all over his body. 

 Three days, he hadn’t had any sleep. First there was a nasty bit of business in Metropolis, which Clark obviously couldn’t handle on his own. Then, the Scarecrow dosed Nightwing with his fear gas, which lead to a whole new set of problems. Then Poison Ivy broke Harley out of prison, who tried and failed to let the Joker out. And then……

  Bruce was brought out of his reverie by a small voice.


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SO MUCH SIN AHEAD. I swear…. sigh, It’s been a long time since I’ve written smut, peeps. Be gentle with me. 

Warnings: None, just a ton of sinning. 

Unbeta’d. Any mistakes are mine (It’s 3am as I edit this, I’m sure there will be mistakes) 

Betty generally adores these quiet moments where the world is still asleep and she gets to see Jughead’s face relaxed, void of the weight he carries on his shoulders. She is aware of how creepy it sounds, but she could spend hours looking at how relaxed and content Jughead looked while he slept. Her heart seizes inside her chest, warmth spreading through her body. 

Right now, though, Betty’s eyes are not focused on his face. Instead she lets her eyes roam over his naked body, as he sleeps, deep breathes make his chest go up and down, an action that she was finding utterly fascinating.  

She bits her lower lip, her breathing coming out uneven. Betty knows she shouldn’t feel like this, they had been at it all night until they had finally fallen asleep. But after nearly two months of being apart because of an internship that had come up for him, she just can’t get enough. 

There’s a need between her legs and inside her heart. A craving of being impossibly closer to him until she couldn’t discern their bodies apart. 

Betty had gone and picked him up from the airport, jumping onto his arms as soon as she saw him. Part of her was aware of the cliché, but other part couldn’t bear to be separated from him any longer. Jughead had placed his head in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. 

Betts…” his voice trembled a little when he spoke, and when he leaned back to look at her, his eyes were glassy. “God, I missed you.” 

I missed you too, Jug. So much”  She had replied, placing a soft kiss upon his lips. “Let’s go home.” 

His jacket was off as soon as the door of their apartment was closed, soon followed by the rest of their clothes. It had been passionate, quick and hungry. Jughead fucking her on the couch because they hadn’t made it to the bedroom.

 Betty moans softly at the memory, clenching her thighs together, trying to quell the fire between them. Jughead sighs in his sleep, facing her now and she watches enraptured at his morning wood. She is a little embarrassed at how her mouth waters at the view. Betty’s tempted to wake him up with her tongue, but he looks so at peace and the dark circles under Jughead’s eyes spoke volumes about how much he needed sleep. 

Her hand moves at its own volition. Down, down until she’s lightly fondling her breast, thinking about the way his hands had gripped her waist yesterday, bringing her closer and closer to him as he brought her to climax. 

A gasp escapes her as her fingers tweak her nipple. Betty feels a new thrill as she begins teasing herself next to her sleeping boyfriend, the fire inside of her only increasing as her other other hand clenches the bedsheets. 

Betty moves her hand slowly downwards, mimicking what Jughead always does, slowly teasing her on his way to her centre. She mewls lightly when she finds herself still wet from yesterday’s reunion, suddenly glad she’s still naked.

She moves her fingers through her wet folds and closes her eyes at the sensation, getting lost on the memories of yesterday’s reunion. The hungry but reverent way he always touched her. And… God, she wanted him to be touching him for real right now. 

Betty lets her fingers move in circles on her clit, sighing, her other hand coming to cup her breast. She pinches her nipple and bites her lower lip as she tries not to make a sound. Her hips lift up a little, seeking release. A breathy groan leaves her lips and she opens her eyes, looking to her left before freezing when she sees blue eyes darkened with desire looking back at her. 

“Don’t stop.” he says. Not a suggestion, not a plea. An order. It makes her throat dry and blood catch fire at the intense look on his eyes. 

“Jug…” she says, breathless, still frozen in place. 

“Go on… don’t stop.” he tells her, licking his lips absently, not moving from his side of the bed. “Start slow.” 

Betty is compelled, as in a trance, she does as he says. Moving her fingers up and down slowly, never taking her eyes off his, her breath hitches. Jughead’s eyes are dark with want and it still makes her melt. 

“Juggie…” she begs him lightly, not really sure what she’s asking for. 

“No, I wanna see you touch yourself.” Jughead’s voice is hoarse, his hand lightly resting low on his stomach and his length now fully hard. 

“What about you?” She asks, breathy, thoughts cloudy. 

“Oh, I’ll be just fine enjoying the show.” Jughead replies, a shit-eating grin on his face for a moment before he lifts his arm to lay beneath his head, knowing full well how it makes his muscles flex and her mouth water.

Betty whimpers, still slowly touching herself, getting wetter by the second. His eyes roam over her body and it makes her back arch, pushing her breast up. He smirks softly at her like he knows what she’s doing but still not moving an inch. 

“Pinch your nipple.” He orders and she does. “Harder.” 

She follows his suggestions not once taking her eyes off him, moaning when he palms his length, her fingers circling her bundle of nerves quicker. 

“No, no. Slowly.” He reprimands, inching a little closer as  he inspects her work on herself.  As if this is the making of a masterpiece, and by the light in his eyes, it might as well be. “Don’t get impatient, babe. Now… start fingering yourself. Just one.” 

Betty lets her fingers drift down, until she can dip one of them onto her entrance slowly. But it’s not enough, she wants more. 

“What were you thinking about?” Jughead asks, eyes glued to her. “Just before you saw me looking at you.”

“Us.” Betty says, her finger slipping in and out of her centre. “Yesterday.” 

“Really?” Jughead hums, getting a tiny bit closer to her. “What exactly was I doing?” the glint in his eyes make her bite her lip in amusement and lust.

 “You were eating me out.” Betty tells him. 

“Was I?” He asks and she wants to wipe the grin of his face but she’s enjoying this too much. “How? I want you to tell me, Betts.” 

“Slowly, because you’re a jerk.” she replies, moaning a little at the end as she remembers. A new wave of warmth flooding her. His throat bobs a little. 

“That does sound like me…” he agrees. “Add another finger, Betty.” 

She does, closing her eyes at the sensation. A sigh escapes her lips as she moves her fingers in search of that spot within her.

 “Look at me, Betty.” Jughead’s voice makes her eyes pop open, he’s so close now. Betty leans forward a little to try and kiss him but he leans back with a chuckle. “Tell me more about what you were thinking.” 

“I…” She starts but stops when she feels the heel of her palm lightly touches her clit, inciting a mewl from her. “You were eating me out. You started slow but then you put your fingers in me as you bit my inner thigh.” She doesn’t have to look down to see the light marks there. 

“Keep going.” He says, lowering himself until he’s at eye level with her lower stomach, then lightly runs the tip of his nose over the skin. 

“You… You were looking up at me while you...Fuck, Juggie.” Betty is getting closer to her release, her fingers pumping in and out of her, the heel of her palm rubbing her bundle of nerves with every movement, tights quivering a little. 

“While I what, Betty?” Jughead asks. He moves slowly, tracing her skin with the tip of his nose, barely a caress. From her lower stomach up to her breast, where he stops, letting his breath fan over her delicate skin, making her moan. Jughead doesn’t stop staring at her as he leans forward and bites lightly on a nipple. 

“Juggie!” She whines, hips jerking. 

“Come on, baby.” He’s at eye level with her now, their faces enough apart that he can look into her eyes without getting crossed-eyed. “Harder.” 

Betty’s moves begin to lose tempo as she gets closer and closer to climax. She’s panting and moaning now, unable to speak as he watches her, completely enraptured. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” He says. “Make yourself come, Betts, come on…” 

And she does, it takes a few seconds before the coil inside of her snaps. Her thighs quiver and tighten around her hand as her back arches off the bed.

She’s breathing heavily with her eyes closed when she feels fingertips sliding down her arm before taking hold of her wrist. Betty opens her eyes just in time to see Jughead bring her fingers to his mouth and suck her juices off them. They moan at the same time. 

“Delicious.” he says, finally releasing her hand. Betty is on him in a second, kissing him passionately as she moves to straddle him. 

Jughead falls back on the bed, hugging her close to his body as they kiss. Betty bites his lower lip, a hand sliding to run through his hair. His hand roam on her back before moving to her ass, pressing her closer to where he wants her. His member touching her lower stomach and he hisses at the contact.

 “You think you’re funny… teasing me like that?” Betty asks him. She moves enough that her hot center is touching his length, sliding back and forth, making him clench his jaw. 

“Well… you did get to cum in the end.” he replies, voice hoarse, his hands gripping her hips so tightly that she wonders if they’ll leave a mark. “Some might say it’s my turn now.”

“We’ll see…” She tells him, but even as she teases, Betty lifts her hips, lining her entrance with him as she lowers herself on his member. They both moan, his grip on her hips tightens before releasing and coming to run the expanse of her back as she slowly rides him 

“Ah, baby, you feel so good.” Jughead says, hand coming to grope at her breast. Betty throws her head back, giving himself over to the sensations as she rides him, how full she feels. 

“Juggie… fuck me.” She pleads, movements erratic making her muscles ache with the effort. 

Suddenly, she’s on her back again, Jughead on top of her with his arms hooked under her shoulders to keep her close. The new angle might now put him as deep inside of her but she loves the weight of his body above her, the warmth of his skin. When they’re like this, Betty feels safe and loved, like nothing could ever tear them apart.

His mouth travels the expanse of her skin, anywhere he can reach, whispering sweet nothings over her pulse joint. Betty’s hands move to grab the globes of his ass, silently begging him for more before they go back to his back, embracing him. 

“I’m close, baby.” Jughead says, lightly biting her jaw, making his way to her mouth. “Touch yourself.” 

Betty isn’t sure she’s gonna last long enough to. Her fingers find her clit as his thrusts become rougher and shorter. 

“Fuck, Fuck!” Betty moans, her orgasm making her walls clench around his length, a sea of molten lava exploding inside of her, bringing him over the edge as well. 

Jughead grunts, his forehead landing on her collarbone as they pant, coming down from their high. It’s either an eternity or short seconds later, Betty can’t really tell, that he moves off her to lie at her side, a hand softly caressing her thigh.

 “I love you, Jug” She whispers, looking at him as he turns those beautiful blue eyes upon her. 

“I love you too, Betty Cooper” Jughead replies, his arm lifting so he can bug her closer to him. Betty cherishes the closeness, a hand on his chest. “Can we sleep now?” She laughs at his question, voice already drowsy with sleep, before moving to kiss him softly. 

“Yes, we can sleep now.” she tells him, closing her eyes as well.

Washed Up

Parts: one | two | three | four | end

Group: BTS


Excerpt: “I was lonely and then I saw you on the beach-“


“A year ago maybe?”

Genre: angst, mermaid au

Length: 1.6k

A/N: part three will be out eventually..


Originally posted by btsleepy

There was a figure on the beach that morning, lying face down in the sand as waves lapped at their lower half. This wasn’t an uncommon sight, teenagers often had parties that got out of hand and yet the second you saw it you knew, you knew this was not a normal incident; and then his tail flapped up catching the sun as scales glinted at you.

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fortune’s fool: peter parker II

peter parker x reader

A/N: multi-part fic based off of a twitter post which I won’t link until the end so as not to spoil anything :-) Each part can be read individually or as a series!

requested: nope

Words: 2000+

Warnings: cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of drinking, mentions of death

summary: Two Empire State University students fated to meet

let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

requests are open!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4masterlist

2. Understanding-

21 year old Peter, 19 year old reader

She woke with her head buried in stark white sheets, a rhythmic thrumming pounding against the base of her skull as she tried to gather her thoughts. She was definitely not in her own room, but the scent that surrounded her cocooned body was a familiar one, and the easy, measured breaths that she could hear from beyond her wall of pillows was a symphony she’d learned by heart.

With a groan, she turned on her side and pushed away the pile of blankets that separated herself from her best friend’s body. His bare chest rose and fell, faint puffs of air escaping his slightly-opened mouth every so often. Soft curls fell across his peaceful face that lay smooth and unwrinkled as he slept.

This wasn’t the first time that she’d woken up in the same bed as Peter Parker. It was, however, the first time she’d found herself naked and twisted in his sheets. She couldn’t say that she was surprised. They’d been the closest of friends for over a year now, and they both knew that some sort of consummation of their friendship was inevitable.

It didn’t worry her. She knew that what had happened wasn’t serious, and therefore, that nothing about their relationship would change. She knew that Peter knew that, too.

That’s why it happened, she supposed. Because they both knew it wouldn’t ruin anything. It was bound to happen some day, anyway. Instead of worrying, she was content to lay in the peaceful silence until Peter woke up and they’d have to talk.

She breathed in the cool morning air that blew through the slightly opened window and caused the sheer white curtains to flutter. The rest of Manhattan was surely awake by now, evidenced by the honking of horns and shouting from street corners. This was what she loved most about Peter’s apartment. The building was squished between another apartment complex and a multi-level shopping center, which was all smack in the middle of the bustling city, one that she’d come to love, perhaps even more than her own home of Long Island.

His own space, however, was a simplistic haven that was just so him that she found herself spending more time at his place than her own home.

“Just move in already,” is what he’d said once on a warm morning after she’d slept over for the fourth night in a row.

“No, you’d get sick of me!” she’d laughed. He disagreed, but they never spoke about it again. Still, she continued to spend days on end flitting between his kitchen and his sofa and his bedroom, working on her own things, simply coexisting with Peter and not depending too much on his presence to get her own stuff done.

Most often, she could be found sitting on his bed with her textbooks and notes spread around her, all marked in her own code of colored highlighters as she studied or worked on homework while Peter sat at his desk, focused intently on his own work and typing away madly on his laptop, stopping only to remind her to stretch or drink some water or grab a snack. That was just Peter, though; the caring guy she’d met over a year ago who had saved her from days of hauling boxes and who still cared more than anybody else and always thought of her needs before his own.

She loved him, she guessed, but in the purest of ways. She couldn’t stand to lose him, and he felt the same way, because they both knew that the ease of their relationship was not a common thing. They never actively sought anything more from one another, believing that if something was meant to happen, it would happen. For now, they both coveted the freedom they had to see other people, and the knowledge that they still had the other to come back to and laugh about awkward dates and terrible hookups with.

“It’s easier this way,” she’d said. “I don’t want to start anything if I can’t commit my whole being to you.”

“I agree,” was his reply. ‘We both love this whole ‘young college student’ phase too much for us to really be able to give everything to one another like we deserve. Besides, as long as I’ve got you as my best friend, I couldn’t really ask for more.”

Then they’d smiled, Peter with that bright, dazzling thing that you could see from miles away, and her with something soft and shared with him, like a secret she seemed to reserve only for Peter, and then they turned back to their work which had been abandoned only minutes ago.

Sighing softly, she let her eyes trace over Peter’s still-sleeping figure. She wished, sometimes, that they’d met ten years later, when she knew who she was and what she wanted, and she’d be able to love him fully like he deserved. She still wasn’t expecting more from him, but she think it might have been better, knowing their intentions from the beginning.

She didn’t know, though, if he’d be her same Peter. His “after school hobby”, as he’d called it, wasn’t easy on him. She’d seen how much it changed him, even within the short year that they’d known each other. He was more quiet, more self aware. He’d seen horrors and faced death, and there was no one who really understood it, that he was still a kid that had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She did her best to listen when he needed her to, when days were dark and he just needed to get things off his chest. He’d told her about Liz and the Vulture and the homecoming night that happened so long ago that changed him forever. He told her about the innocent people that he could’ve, would’ve, should’ve saved, but let their lives slip through his fingers, and how each one weighed heavily on him, every one of them a cold, unbeating heart that couldn’t speak the words of condemnation that he knew they should. He told her about his visits to the graveyards around his city where he stood before their graves and cried tears that he didn’t deserve to cry and apologized profusely, knowing that his words would do nothing to bring them back.

And she would listen. She would let him cry onto her shoulder while she ran soothing fingers through tangled, sweat soaked curls, easing that beautiful mind in its state of turmoil. And then he would push his face deep into her chest while she cradled his head and pressed soft kisses to his hairline while his body racked with sobs.

Who would he be without her? He couldn’t be like this with Ned, couldn’t confide in him like he did with her. MJ would tell him to take his feelings out on the punching bag that hung in the back room of his apartment. He couldn’t even begin to talk to May about it in fear of worrying her half to death. She knew that. She knew everything. And so she became his rock, his unmovable force that he knew would always, always be there for him.

If she wasn’t though? Who would he confide in? Who would ease his pain and help him carry his burden? If it had been ten years later, who knew that he’d even be alive? That there was even a possibility of them meeting at all?

He’d certainly be different. Not the same shining light that she’d come to know so well. Knowing him, he’d let him get lost in his selflessness, his need to be a hero, and push himself further and further into this other version of himself. She didn’t ever want to meet this version of Peter, and so she fought to keep him Peter and not just Spider-Man.

So far, she thinks she’s doing alright. He’s still paranoid at times, always checking over his shoulder, wrapping a protective arm around her waist when they’re out late, but he’s also trying, she knows. He visits Aunt May every weekend, takes a trip to Uncle Ben’s grave once a month, hangs out with his friends regularly. She thinks he’s doing great, all things considered.

Peter began to stir on his side of the bed, a soft groan emitting from beneath the protection of the covers. He rolled over to face her, opening one eye slowly and allowing himself to adjust to the bright light that was now streaming through the window.

“Whatimezit?” he mumbled, pushing his head up to eye her unclothed body. “Wha’d we do last night?”

“We had sex,” she spoke bluntly, giving him a small shrug. “We can talk about it, if you want.”

“Rather not, actually,” he groaned, pushing his head back into his pillow. “How much did I drink?”

“Well, you took three tequila shots straight out of the gate then shotgunned a beer and I kind of lost count after your fifth mixed drink, so I’d say you were sufficiently smashed by the end of the night. Not that I was any better, mind you,” she recalled, stomach churning at the thought of that last beer.

“I feel like absolute shit,” Peter grumbled, face muffled by the fabric of the pillowcase.

“You look it,” she joked, scooting over so they were shoulder to shoulder, pressed together like sardines.

“Hey, not nice,” he pouted, turning his neck so their faces were mere inches away from each other. He smiled at her, breathing in as he spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Of course,” she responded. “We’ve talked about this before. As long as none of our feelings have changed, I think that we can both move past this.”

“Good. Now who’s making breakfast? Because I really don’t wanna get up right now, but if I don’t have something drenched in grease and hopefully some sort of cheese, my stomach will start eating itself,” Peter remarked, kicking her leg lightly under the sheets.

“Not me! I made you dinner before we left last night,” she answered, returning his kick.

“Let’s just order something in and that way we can stay in bed until it arrives,” he suggested.

“Fine, but you’re paying,” she insisted, and he agreed, allowing the peaceful silence to fall upon them again.

“I’m glad you’re my best friend,” he remarked after the silence settled, pulling her body closer to his with one hand.

“Don’t let Ned hear you say that,” she cautioned teasingly. She knew that Peter’s relationship with Ned was different than the one they had, but was still just as strong, and probably even stronger considering their history. She didn’t mind sharing his attention. She loved Ned just as much as Peter, and she was glad that he still had a close friend from home that always had his back no matter what.

“Ned knows it’s true. He doesn’t mind, I think. Ever since he and MJ picked up those jobs at the Rec Center, they’ve been closer than ever. Now they both gang up on me rather than just MJ,” Peter whined.

“To be fair, though, you deserve it more often than not,” she joked, nudging his shoulder.

“That’s probably true,” he sighed. “Anyway, I meant it. You’re the best person I know. Thank you,” he stated, reaching down to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you,” she responded. “You’ve done so much for me Peter. I’m so lucky to have you.” She smiled and squeezed his hand back, her grin only growing when he leaned over to press a kiss against her forehead.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“One of us should really put some clothes on before we freak out this delivery guy,” Peter mused quietly, not moving at all.

“Yes, one of us should definitely put clothes on and get the food right now,” she looked at him pointedly.

Fine,” he grumbled, sliding out of bed and pulling a pair of flannel pants on while she watched him in amusement, following his movements until he was out the door. Yes, she certainly was lucky to have Peter in her life.

Tagged: @multi-parker @cutie1365 @cersei-lannister @oswald-1998 @kawaiianime03 @lionfart @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @nonewmessage @co0kies08 @dec-snowy @sunshine-little-miss @cubedtriangle @triggerfingerfunction @dailygubler

anonymous asked:

Can you do a drabble about Viktor trying to get Yuuri to come to bed and go to sleep?



Yuuri startles where he’s sitting on the couch and immediately rips one earpiece out of his ear. The living room is still bright with the lights on but the skies outside the windows are pitch black.

Right behind him, with a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, stands Viktor, clad in the comfortable, oversized T-shirt he sleeps in. Yuuri’s eyes fall to the pillow that he’s holding in his arm. Yuuri’s pillow.


“Come to bed?”

Yuuri glances at the clock on his computer. 2:28.  He’s been playing games since Viktor went to bed four hours earlier.

“I don’t feel like sleeping yet,” he says.

Viktor is quiet for a moment. And then… “Please?”

The sound of vulnerability in his voice, no matter how hushed, fires alarm bells in Yuuri’s heart. He turns his head again and pulls the other earphone out, only now truly noticing how burdened Viktor’s eyes look.

Oh no.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, worried.

“I seem—” Viktor sighs and his shoulders sag like he’s carrying the entire world.

(Yuuri understands; sometimes one’s thoughts are much heavier than the world itself.)

He covers Viktor’s hand with his own, his game entirely forgotten.

“I don’t think I can fall asleep without you tonight,” Viktor whispers, hugging Yuuri’s pillow closer to his chest.


“Of course,” Yuuri murmurs. Seeing Viktor like this, so fragile under the weight of his own mind—he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. He doesn’t want to get used to it, ever; he’ll do anything to make everything better before that happens. “I’ll be there in a minute, I’ll just turn everything off, okay?”

“Okay.” Viktor nods. “Thank you.”

As he’s stepping away, Yuuri tightens his hand on Viktor’s fingers. “Hey, Vitya?” When he has his attention, he gently pulls at Viktor’s hand and tilts his head up. He doesn’t need to say anything - Viktor leans in and Yuuri presses a tender kiss to his lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

Viktor smiles for the first time since he’s gone to bed. “I love you too.”

Yuuri’s eyes accompany Viktor all the way to the bedroom, and only when he’s alone again, does he look at the computer screen once more. He doesn’t care he hasn’t reached the saving mark in the game yet; he exits it without a second thought, turns the computer off and checks again if the front door and all the windows are closed before he shuts the lights off.

Viktor’s already in their bed, curled up on his side, waiting for him. As quickly as he can, Yuuri changes into his PJs and gets under the covers. They meet halfway; Yuuri opens his arms and Viktor snuggles close, letting out a soft sigh as Yuuri’s scent and warmth surround him. He surrenders.


Falling asleep is much easier when their hearts have each other’s rhythm to follow.

anonymous asked:

Could you do a story with a very hurt Jason getting dragged back to the cave by a freaked out dami. Who's worried about his brother then maybe Bruce and the other siblings come in and yah does that make any sense. 🍊🍊🍊#i get bored and read tags #yah

THANK YOU. Wow I didn’t think anyone would read through all those tags lol. I hope you enjoy what I came up with. : )

Also @dove-among-bats this is what I was talking about.

Title: If I Live to See the Dawn

Rating: General

Warnings: Blood

Words: 3,700

AO3 link

Jason’s night had not gone as planned. He’d been halfway across the city, ready to drop in on an unsuspecting group of drug dealers when he’d gotten the call from Bruce. I need your help.

Bruce didn’t call him often and he never asked for help. Jason’s first thought had been that Batman was in trouble, but his voice hadn’t sounded strained. His tentative response of With what? was answered with a request to watch Damian. More precisely Bruce asked Jason if he would “Take care of Robin tonight.”

Damian was the last person Jason expected to be babysitting that night. Dick maybe. Tim probably at some point. But Damian? Jason hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around it. His youngest sibling was headstrong and far too similar to Jason himself for Bruce to approve of their spending a lot of time together.

Which meant that Jason was the last choice. He’d scowled, despite Bruce and anyone else who cared to look being unable to see it. It felt good to turn his mouth down in a grimace. “No.” He’d answered.

Except Bruce had asked him. And Bruce never asked him for anything. The request alone tempted something warm to bubble up in Jason, but he pushed it down as fast at the thought of being the last to be asked.

He didn’t mind spending time with Damian. The kid wasn’t so bad when you pushed past his prickly exterior, and he had a sense of humor that Jason found endearing. Especially when it involved dragging Tim for his lack of self-care. Jason simply refused to be Bruce’s last choice in the matter. He understood it, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The other side of the comm was silent as his father considered the answer and tried to come up with one of his own. The silence dragged out longer than it should have and Jason started to wonder if Bruce had closed the connection.

“I’ll send him home then.”

That was it. The comm clicked off and Jason swore. Damian wouldn’t go home. Even if Bruce marched him back to the manor the boy would be back on Gotham’s streets in half an hour. Damian was many things: highly trained, able, and smart, but Jason couldn’t see himself letting a child, because that was something else Damian was, out patrolling Gotham’s streets alone.

Jason had been Robin. He’d been the kid to do things on his own. To be assured in his abilities. Batman had trained him after all. He’d failed more times than he cared to count. Wanted a partner more than that. No Jason wasn’t going to let Damian patrol alone, neither was he going to call Bruce back and tell him that.

It took Jason longer than he cared to admit to find Damian. He refused to call for help early on, for fear of Bruce overhearing before he’d left. Thankfully his youngest brother had a tendency to follow his father’s example and follow pre-planned patrols unless something caught his attention.

As Jason moved on to the third area he figured Damian would be he was ready with a snappy comment to give his little brother the moment he found him. Something about sneaking out being not DaddyBats approved, but the words died on his lips the moment he parked his motorcycle and cut the engine. Shouts filled the air followed by the cough of gunfire.

Jason was off his bike, the vehicle crashing to the ground behind him, and halfway down the street before his head caught up with his feet. The source of the sounds had to be close, his eyes grazing each alleyway he passed before moving on to the next.

A little over a block away he finally found the right one. He couldn’t see Robin through the press of men, but he could hear the kid through the roars and grunts of whoever he was fighting. Jason didn’t hesitate to throw himself into the fray, working his way towards his brother.  He lost himself in the steady, practiced actions of find the biggest threat and take them out. His brain a few steps ahead of his guns, a part of his attention on Damian.

All Jason could think of during the fight was the words Bruce had used earlier: take care of Robin. They were what pushed him to his limit during the fight, and what propelled him into Damian, shoving the boy out of danger as a stray bullet caught the side of an unprotected water heater and causing it to explode. 

Keep reading

Photographs - Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

A series of vignettes in which Brianna brought an instant camera with her when she traveled through the stones. 

Claire had whispered the idea to Brianna while Jamie was preoccupied at the side of the path, fiddling with something in his shirt.

“It’s something you ought to have,” Claire pressed. “I certainly wish now that I could have with Jamie, especially during those years we were apart… Though obviously it was impossible.”

“I remember seeing yours and Daddy’s,” Brianna said quietly. “You looked so happy.”

Claire smiled sadly. “I was.” Then she laughed, “Arguably I was happier then than I would’ve looked in a photo with Jamie on our wedding day. I was hungover and miserable and could barely stand except that I had him to lean on… but I wish I had something more tangible from the day, nonetheless. I didn’t realize how important that day would become to me.”

Brianna immediately began digging out the camera when they arrived back at the cabin.

“Aren’t ye supposed to be puttin’ things away?” Roger teased as he bounced Jem gently to help quiet the lad.

“Mama’s going to be back down shortly and I want to have everything ready,” Brianna told him having finally located the camera.

“Ready for what?” Roger asked moving closer to see as Brianna began checking the apparatus for functionality. “Is that…?”

Brianna smiled sheepishly. “I know it was a risk bringing it but at the time I thought I’d be going back and I wanted to have something I could take with me when I did.”

Setting the camera down, Brianna pulled out the stash of photos she’d accumulated and held them for Roger to see where Jem couldn’t get his drool-coated fingers on them.

“That’s the first time I saw Lallybroch when I came through,” she narrated. “Before I met Uncle Ian and Aunt Jenny. And this is from the first night I stayed here with my parents.”

Both their cheeks flushed as they took in the intimate shot of Jamie and Claire seated before the fire.

“Here,” Brianna shuffled the last few images until Jem’s red, newborn face peered up at Roger. “If I hadn’t brought it with me, we wouldn’t have that.”

Roger nodded but couldn’t bring himself to speak. Jem had quieted and was staring at the photograph with a confused and jealous frown.

“That’s you, my wee man,” Brianna cooed, taking Jem from Roger’s arms in exchange for the small stack of photos. “You’ve grown so much already, haven’t you?”

“And,” Roger began then cleared his throat. “Your mother is coming to photograph… us?”

“She thought we should do a wedding portrait,” Brianna explained. “I mean… it won’t be the same as what we would have back then… but I think it’ll be nice to have it all the same.”

Roger grinned. “I agree.” He leaned forward and kissed Brianna’s forehead. She took hold of his collar as he moved to back away and pulled him in for a real kiss as Jem yawned and nuzzled her neck.

Once the baby was down for his nap, Roger helped Brianna to put away their things from the gathering and straightened up the corner of the cabin they thought would make the most suitable backdrop.

Jamie and Claire arrived together a short time later, Jamie’s hair still wet from a bath.

“Da why did you––” Brianna started but Jamie raised a hand to cut her off, his face turning red.

“Please… don’t ask,” he said with an embarrassed glance at Claire who pressed her lips together but couldn’t hide the laughter in her eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered to her daughter. “You and Roger go get yourself into position.”

“Shouldn’t ye have flowers,” Roger remarked as Brianna pressed herself to his side.

Claire snorted. “Jamie, why don’t you go––”

Jamie glared at her and sent her laughing.

“I don’t need flowers,” Brianna insisted, confused.

“No, ye don’t,” Jamie agreed. “But there is a wee something missing.”

“How would you know?” Claire asked, her laughter finally faded enough for her to speak again. “You’ve never seen a wedding portrait like this.”

“Not one like that, no,” he agreed, bending over Jem’s cradle. “But I have seen wedding portraits before and I canna suppose there’s too much about them that’s changed from now to yer time.” He scooped a groggy Jem up and settled the lad against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the fiery wisps of hair that were beginning to come in thicker. “That’s not what I had in mind though, either.”

He carried Jem to Brianna and settled the babe in her arms. Though Jem pulled his legs up reflexively as his grandfather handed him over, he quickly went back to being a dead weight in her arms. Roger reached over to tuck Jem’s leg up so it rested more comfortably.

He flushed as he met Brianna’s eye, his hand still on Jem’s foot. She was smiling warmly at him as the flash went off and startled them.

“Perfect,” Claire declared with a grin as Jamie nodded in agreement, his arm slipping around Claire’s shoulders as she carefully took hold of the photo the machine spat out to see that it was already beginning to develop. “Now how about one more with the two of you looking at the camera?”


Name: Not to the Sickbay you say?
Pairing: Bones x Reader
Summary: the reader is on a mission with Kirk and gets badly hurt. However, she refuses to go tot he sickbay, so Kirk slowly realizes that she got a huge crush on Bones, so he decides to help the two idiots.

You always knew that Monday was not your lucky day, but today was special - since the very moment when you woke up (and found Sulu’s crazy plant in your shoes) your day has been getting worse, and a huge stone falling on your hip during a two-men mission was only a logical continuation of the day.

“Y/N, you are an incredibly lucky person,” Kirk sits down by your side, injecting you with a strong painkiller. “If you made a hundred more meters in any direction, the Enterprise would be able to beam us up, but… Here we are.”

“I am sorry, captain,” you mumble, and Kirk sighs, taking a communicator out. “W-what are you doing?”

“Asking our lovely doctor to come and cut your leg off, of course. Y/N, I simple will call McCoy and ask him to get here, so that he can fix your leg immediately after I cut the stone. He said that’s how I should do it, plus it’s the only way you will keep your leg after we are done.”

“Could you… could you ask anyone but Doctor McCoy to come?” you ask quietly, and Kirk closes his communicator, quite interested in what you have to say.

“Now, what did Bones do? He wasn’t mean on purpose, you know. It’s just his personality,” you shake your head, and Kirk keeps guessing. “Afraid of him? Y/N, he is probably the sweetest person on the whole ship. No?” you shake our head again, feeling how the stone starts pressing more on the legs and stomach. “Y/N, if you don’t have a reason serious enough, I will call him immediately. I am only allowed to get up to three people on the planet, and Bones is probably the only one who can properly deal with everything that is wrong with you right now,” you stay quiet. “Oh, you couldn’t fall for him, could you?!” and you blush so hard, Kirk start laughing, so proud of his deduction skills. “You actually fell for Bones? That’s why all the complications?” you stay quiet, but still blushing. “Can I call the Sickbay now?”

“Anyone but McCoy,” you murmur, and Kirk waves his hand at you, amused by the romantic feelings that his friend could provoke in anyone. “Captain, please!”

“Mister Spock, we need medical assistance down here… No, I am fine… Yes, send the doctor as soon as possible,” Kirk closes the communicator and looks at you. “How did you manage?”

“Well, I am an extremely lucky person,” you grin.

“You bet you are,” McCoy enters the ‘cave’ and sighs at your ‘comfortable’ position. “Jim, you have to take care of your team, not murder them.”

“Holy shit,” you whisper and look at Kirk, trying to retell how much you hate him right now, but Jim simply shrugs his shoulders, as if saying ‘not my fault, I asked them to send a doctor.’

“I haven’t even started, Y/N, stay down and breathe deeply,” Bones kneels next to you and quickly checks your pulse and overall health. “Yeah, Jim, she is alright, just lift the stone, and I’ll take care of the bones.”

“What’s wrong with the bones?”

“Oh, they are simply crushed. If I do not block the flow of blood as soon as captain takes the weight off, the pieces may very well end up in very, very bad places,” McCoy sighs again. “How did you even manage?”

“She is an extremely lucky person,” Kirk answers for you and raises his phaser, ready to vanish the rock. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Bones takes your hand, allowing for you to grab his sleeve, squeezing it as hard as possible, as the weight disappears, and the painkillers magically stop working, almost murdering you with the pain. “Shh,” Bones quickly injects you with something, stroking your forehead with a free hand. “It’s ok. Let me take a look now,” he frees his hands and cuts your uniform to get access to the injury, then whistles, looking back at your face.

“That bad?” he nods quietly. “Fixable?”

“Yes,” he starts quickly covering the injury with some sticky glue, then quickly attaches a small blinking mechanism to your hips, which quickly expanded and locked your legs in the same position. “Do not move.”

“I was going to go for a run,” you murmur, and Bones grins, appreciating your attitude, then quickly strokes your forehead with his thumb.

“We have to get back on board,” Kirk interrupts you, and McCoy agrees, as they both carefully lift you and carry out of the cave.

“All I had to do to get two people carry me around is get hurt,” you joke. “If only I knew about it before the mission.”

“Three to beam up,” Kirk says loudly, as Bones makes you stand up next to him, so that he holds you with both hands in order for you not to fall down.

“On scale from one to ten, how much does it hurt?” he asks you quietly, trying to almost lift you of the ground, to reduce the weight on the legs.

“About six,” you murmur, your hands wrapped around his shoulders.

“That’s good… I mean, it’s bad that it hurts, but good that it’s not ten,” you laugh, and Bones flinches, as your breath tickles his neck. “Sorry.”

“That’s… That’s alright,” McCoy tightens his grip on your waist, as you get transported on the Enterprise, and a second later, the medical team helps you get down on the stretcher, and they rush to the Sickbay.

“Why the rush?”

“Because I gave you a very strong sedative, so you wouldn’t feel it even if I cut your legs off… Which is literally happening right now,” quickly answers Bones. “I also blocked the flow of blood, so that the bone pieces as well as the possible virus do not enter the intestines…”

“Sounds sweet,” you answer, already terrified of dying. Bones takes your hand and strokes your palm.

“Y/N. It will be fine. I am not letting you lose your legs. I am doctor, this is my job. Clear?” you nod quickly, as you get to the Sickbay, and the team helps you get on the bed, and McCoy is about to sedate you.

“Doctor,” you look him in the eye. “Will I be ok?”

“You will be great,” he answers calmly. “All you should do is trust me,” he covers your face with the mask and starts the countdown until you fall asleep. “I got your back.”

You woke up two days laters, you legs tied together and hanging in the air.

“Look who’s back,” McCoy takes a look at you and smiles. “How are we feeling?”

“Painfully alive,” you answer, as Bones takes the readings from the apparatus and smiles at you.

“Before you ask. You will walk again,” you smile happily.

“Thank you, doctor,” you pretend to try to kneel, and he giggles.

“I will need you to come in at least twice a week, so that I can clear you to get back on duty, but I did talk to captain about you. He agreed to let you stay off duty for a few weeks, so you will stay in Sickbay and help me,” you grin, trying not to show how happy you are to be there (and you also realize that Kirk probably is doing that solely because he knows about your crush).

“Doctor McCoy, if you want me to spend more time here, all you have to do is ask,” Bones smiles again, quickly pats you on the shoulder, then heads out of the room, mumbling something about the job.

“Get better there,” you rest your head on the pillow and sigh, realizing that the following few weeks will be hard. And painful. And full of your hopeless and bad flirting, hidden in sarcasm and endless blushing.

Sunsets and Heartache

Summary: Peter tries to be a hero, but Aunt May knows that he carries the heavy weight of the world on his shoulders that make it even harder for him to breathe.

Word count: 581

A/N: (I’m assuming the fight in Spiderman: Homecoming takes place in Washington) This is my first Peter Parker one shot that took me around 5 hours to finish so feedback would be great! 

Credit to gif owner

Peter tries to be a hero, but Aunt May knows that he carries the heavy weight of the world on his shoulders that make it even harder for him to breathe, so he takes a seat on his bedroom window to get some fresh air, his legs dangling off the apartment building. The sun sets to a dark red with a tinge of pink and he gazes toward the sky, clutching the red mask into his fist and he almost wants to get rid of it. It came to a point where everything was just too much for him to handle. Even the sound of his phone ringing in his front pocket seemed to bother him, so Peter decides to ignore it.

Somehow, he starts thinking about Y/N and how he ended things between them weeks ago. There  were times when Aunt May or even Tony would ask him how they were doing and he’d always reply with a shrug or a muttered “We’re fine” until it came to a point where they just knew that their relationship was going downhill.

Peter hears a knock on the door and sees Aunt May peaking through the small crack. “Someone’s here to see you.” She says, her lips curving upwards before leaving the room. Tony’s seated on the couch, chewing on another slice of Aunt May’s walnut and date loaf before sending him a grin.

“Peter!” Tony appeared amuse to see him again considering that it’s been awhile since the fight in Washington. “Listen kid, I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately,” he swallows. “But whatever this is, you can’t deal with it alone.” He nods toward the kitchen and that’s when Peter spots her:


He catches his breath, not knowing whether to yell at Tony for bringing her here for God knows what reason or cry because he gets to be with her again and maybe, just maybe he’d have her back in his arms by the end of the day.

“We’ll leave you two alone.”

“Hey,” Peter spoke. “How have you been?”

“Coping.” She nods, taking a seat on the stool. She’s been partying again, going out with Liz and Michelle and whoever else asks her if she’d want to hang out- desperately wanting to keep her mind off of Peter and her failing grade in chemistry.

It was silent for awhile, the tension and possibly heartache growing in the room. He decides to speak up, wanting to get things over with.

“I’m sorry.” They both say at the same time. Peter looks at her in shock.

“It was my fault, every piece of it. Why do you blame yourself?”

“I was being selfish, Peter. The world needs you. It’s what you do.”

Her selflessness makes him run his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t enough. You deserve more than what I give you.” Y/N shakes her head, almost in disbelief. “I’m not good for you.” Peter wants her to punch him and scream and it frustrates him because she’s not angry.

“Stop beating yourself up. Please.

He realizes that she was all the strength he needed during his downfall, that he fights for her, for Aunt May, for the team and for the rest of the world.

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

And he was right. She was back in his arms with eyes closed and even breaths, every ounce of fear and worry fading away.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spiderboy.”