I Really Really Wish That I Was One Of Those People That Other People On Tumblr Actually Paid Attention

Every time Reid was hugged by a BAU member in chronological order (nobody asked for this but deep down, everyone needed it)

Happy Birthday Jensen Ackles, Born March 1st 1978

I mean just WOW

Invisible string | p.p

summary: you were content with the way your life was, until you woke up with a red string wound around your fingertips. And the red string just had to link you to your best friend, Peter. Now you were subjected to a possible life of no love as you watched Peter, your soulmate, fall for someone else all the while getting fucked over by the universe in the worst way possible.

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers, soulmate au, slow burn, unrequited love turned into mutual pining lol, angst with a happy ending.

status: on-going

↳ zero: invisible string (tying you to me)

↳ part I: when he makes you smile

↳ part II: her picture in your wallet

↳ part III: slipping through my fingertips

↳ part IV: missing your smile

↳ part V: wrapped around my fingers

↳ part VI: it’s always been you

↳ part VII: your hand in mine

↳ moodboard

one

🥺🥺🥺 ripped in 2

i’ll love you forever (fred weasley x reader)

summary: Life or death isn’t a hard choice when Fred is involved. Or you die in place of Fred

a/n: Idk why but I really wanted to write just a small little thing like this. sorry for the retag! it wouldn’t show up in the tags -_-

warnings: Mentions of the battle/war, blood, injury, explosions. Character death. Fred lives but he is sad

Loud footsteps echo down the hall as Fred runs to find someone, anyone recognizes. A black cloud of smoke blurs his vision as he’s tackled to the ground by a death eater.

Smoke burns his eyes as he grabs blindly for his wand. A flash of red light hits his chest sending him flying into the wall behind him. His wand rolls away just out of his grasp.

A masked death eater stalks towards him. Fred closes his eyes, thoughts of his family, George, you flash through his mind. If the last thing he remembers is your smile then he could go peacefully.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

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smile, darling: tom holland one-shot

a/n | was quite proud of myself for thinkin’ up this 1. also i’d like to get paid for taking pictures of tom please. screw the college degree. lengthy one shots are starting to become my staple huh

- anyway i’ve been feeling really burnt out lately so i’ll probably be taking a little writing break after this ♡

summary | tom holland is completely over paparazzi, tracking and exploiting his every move. that is, until he runs into one that he just can’t help but smile for.

cw | tom x paparazzi!fem!reader. language, alcohol use, a classic meet-cute, angst, relatively vanilla shower sex, fluff for days. 5.6k words.

pov: tom

The blinding flashes of old-fashioned bulb cameras were never a phenomenon easy to get used to.

He’d cast empty smiles, try to drown out the noise of the crowd of reporters as he whisked by. There was never a way for him to get out of the hubbub fast enough.

When he did take the chance to look around the sea of paparazzi, it was blurry nameless faces; people he didn’t know who were only interested in selling him to the media. As if the internet didn’t already have enough pictures of him being a celebrity, being the center of any and all attention, even occasionally trying to be a normal person. But he never got very far with that—it’s simply unnatural for someone to be the focus of a picture when they’re just trying to buy a cup of tea.

Wearing sweats out for a jog became a fashion statement, hugging an old female friend became a scandal. These people were relentless, squeezing every little bit of life out of him to meet a quota. Turning him into an object, a subject, pretty much everything under the sun except human.

One face he picked out from the usual crowd was different, though—younger, prettier, less chaotic. She was happy to be in the back of the swarm of cameras, oftentimes missing the perfect shot because she was just watching—her camera pointed toward the ground. She tried to see life before her through her own eyes and not the pupil of the lens. He noticed her at the events she attended, but never gave her a thought past the millisecond they made eye contact. That is, until they locked eyes for more than a split second; when she singlehandedly saved his sorry ass.

pov: you

You didn’t like your job.

You had gotten into photography to capture the beautiful stillness of nature, to be able to stare at the subject of your photo for hours on end and still get the perfect shot after basking in the reality of it for long enough. But dreams mostly stay dreams, and when you were offered a job as a photographer for a tabloid, you swallowed your pride and accepted. Dreams are wonderful and all, but they can’t pay your rent.

So you resigned yourself to capture the opposite of what you wanted—chaos, crowds of thousands, movie stars moving a mile a minute. You got enough content to keep your position, but you often found yourself trying to take in the essence of the scene before getting the perfect shot, and by then, the celebrity in question was gone. Your life had become a whirlwind, and all you wanted to do was stand still.

So, the day you were stationed outside of the hotel in Atlanta, told by your boss to keep your feet planted on the nondescript side street until you saw anyone of importance walk by, you were thrown off when the star of the movie came out of the doors to the service entrance with flask in hand and bags under his eyes, completely unaware that you were standing there. He flicked a burnt cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it, taking a swig from his canister. When he turned his head and saw you, you had your camera pointed directly at him; and to put it lightly, he freaked the fuck out.

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HAPPY NEW YEAR OF 2014

happy birthday, baby <3

Hehe