I just… I just can’t anymore… This is the first time I have ever seen McGillis cry, and it’s so painful to watch. I know he’s not a good man, and what he has done is inexcusable, but he’s been suffering his entire life too. Why must he die crying and in pain?
Why must both of them suffer like this? I wish that their friendship didn’t have to end this way.
I feel like Peter Parker is the type of guy who appreciates everything. Like you give him a hug, he will talk about it 5 years later. And like if he does something as bad as getting you your second favourite flavour of ice cream instead of your first, you can be that he’ll apologise till the end of time.
Peter also has a really great memory, like he remembers the day back in 1st grade when you first made eye contact with each other.
Peter never forgets the little things
Can you write an imagine where you give him a hug and his heart is beating really fast and you start to freak out and hes like calm down its only beating fast because youre here.
A/N: This is so cute, I couldn’t stop smiling after reading this prompt. Thanks for being my first request!
Hope you like it~
Streaks of sunlight shone warmly on two figures embracing in the empty classroom.
His arms were wrapped strongly around your waist, your hands curled around his neck as your forehead rested lightly on his chest. You both were so comfortable and content, it really did feel like a dream.
Breathing in his scent, which was just so… inexplicably him- you sighed in content.
This was beautiful. You never wanted to leave the sanctuary that was (TC)’s embrace.
A calm, peaceful silence enshrouded the two of you; an invisible bubble of happiness and safety obstructing the rest of the world.
It really doesn’t get better than this.
You turn your face to the side so that your ear was pressed directly against his chest- the left side, right where his heart is.
Shocked, you hastily look up to find him looking down at you.
In a frantic and flustered tone you ask if he’s okay. Your hands move on their own as they press directly against his pulsing heart, feeling the fast, dull thuds under your very own palm.
’(TC), are you okay? What’s wrong? What’s happening? What’s-’
He chuckles lightly as he takes hold of your hands and brings them back around his neck.
’(Y/N), I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me, it’s- it’s because of you.’
Flustered (again- why does he keep doing this to you????), you smile slowly as you allow yourself to rest your head back on his chest again just as you were doing only a moment ago.
Except, this time, you take in the fact that it is real. You affect him just as much as he affects you. He loves you just as much as you love him. And it’s amazing.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
Outside, the sun continues to shine brightly- it’s glowing rays bathing two embracing figures in the middle of an empty classroom.
And Harry would’ve been
fine, would’ve gladly helped Draco to put their boxes filled with stuff they
didn’t really need but wanted to keep nonetheless inside any other room – the
attic, the scary basement, even the ‘sex bedroom’, as Draco had dubbed it when
they’d been looking around the house for the first time.
Anything, except the
fucking cupboard under the stairs.
As soon as he saw the
door he’d recoiled, hitting his head on the ceiling on his jump, whilst the
heavy box of old Potion journals of Draco hit the floor with a loud thud.
Everything inside Harry
screeched to a halt, as if he’d somehow jumped on the emergency break, and when
he’d moved away properly that he wasn’t able to touch the door, he just stared.
It’s just a door, he firmly reminded himself. It’s just a wooden door that leads to a
simple, small room that just happens to be underneath a set of stairs.
But he couldn’t
It’s just a room, he thought, feeling as though
something was crawling from the inside of his stomach up in his body, making it
more and more difficult to focus on logical thought, but it’s a fucking cupboard.
Before he was able to
stop himself he let out a whimpering sound – almost a moan and a cry in one,
and it was loud, too, echoing through the small hall and up and up and up the
stairs and –
Slam. “Harry?” came Draco’s voice from upstairs. “You okay?”
He wanted to yell back,
but he couldn’t.
He wasn’t okay.
It was a cupboard under the stairs.
“Harry?” Draco repeated
When Harry didn’t
answer, Draco sighed, and he finally appeared on the top of the stairs. He just
looked down for a minute, staring at the box – the journals had slipped out
during their fall – and then at Harry, who kept staring at the door as if that
might set it on fire.
Then, as if someone had
flipped a switch, Draco came thundering down the stairs, jumped over the
journals, and wrapped Harry up in his arms.
It was only then that
Harry realized he’d been crying.
The lengths I would go to hear her laugh — there were no limits. I loved her and loved making her laugh. She would do these crazy things and make me do these crazy things, but I really don’t think they were crazy after all. In a way, it was a defense mechanism for her. She was so off the wall, she could use it as protection. Part of what was so poignant about her was that she was vulnerable, that there was this glimmer of a little girl that was so appealing and it roused the protective nature in my personality.
I’m grateful that we stayed friends and got to have this second act with the new movies. I think it was reassuring to her that I was there, the same person, that she could trust me, as critical as we could sometimes be with each other. We ran the gamut over the years, where we were in love with each other, where we hated each other’s guts. “I’m not speaking to you, you’re such a judgmental, royal brat!” We went through it all. It’s like we were a family.
When you were in her good graces, you couldn’t have more fun with any person on the planet. She was able to make you feel like you were the most important thing in her life. I think that’s a really rare quality. And then you could go 180 degrees opposite, where you were furious with one another and wouldn’t speak for weeks and weeks. But that’s all part of what makes a relationship complete. It’s not all one sided. Like I say, she was a handful. She was high maintenance. But my life would have been so much drabber and less interesting if she hadn’t been the friend that she was.