getting ready for tears


Commission for @slowmovingsloth of her Asteria Shepard with Thane <3 finally they got to go on a goddamn shore leave. (needless to say that a commission like this is something that completes me entirely hahaha c:)

my commission info ;u; 

Jealous, Much?

Originally posted by red-blue-velvet

Tom Holland x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: The reader is jealous of Tom and Zendaya’s relationship. However, Tom is there to reassure them.

Word Count: 2,580

Warnings: language, fluff, jealous!reader, reassuring!tom.

A/N: Sorry this took long to post. I’m not sure of this one and felt a little weird writing it tbh, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

In the beginning of the relationship, Tom and you were inseparable. He wasn’t overwhelmed with several acting gigs like he is now. You both were able to sit and enjoy each other’s company without too many stresses.

However, that time spent together soon started to disappear. Tom began his Spider-Man film, while you continued your everyday job, trying to fit in as many hours as you could. Yes, it was a lot you were putting on yourself, but you honestly wanted to distract yourself from not being able to have Tom with you.

You missed him.

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AU where your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your skin (bc every fandom should have one and this is my favourite fic trope ever)

Jack gets his words when he’s five years old. At first, he’s kind of confused.

“Maman,” he says, tugging at his mother’s shirt where she sits at the dining room table. He holds his arm up for her to see. “Je ne comprends pas!”

Alicia Zimmermann starts when she sees the words now permanently inked on her son’s forearm. They’re written in a loopy, pretty script down the middle of his arm, stark against his pale skin. She smiles when she reads the words – English, which he hasn’t yet learnt to read – and pulls him up into her lap. She holds his arm gently in her hands, and he pokes at the words suspiciously.

“Qu-est ce que c’est, Maman?”

“It’s your words,” she explains. “They’re the words that will tell you who your soulmate is.”


“Jack,” he looks away from his arm to meet her gaze, his confusion evident. Alicia pulls her jumper to expose her collarbone and the words written there. The handwriting is one Jack knows, recognizes pretty quickly as his father’s, but he’d never really considered the fact that the messy scrawl on his mother’s skin was actually written by his papa. “Everyone gets them at some point or other. Most people get them when their soulmate is born, but not always. Sometimes it’s a little later, or a little earlier, but the point is, there’s someone out there waiting for you.” She lets her jumper sit back in place and runs a gentle hand through her son’s messy black hair. “One day you’ll meet someone who says those words to you. You’ll know they’re your soulmate because it’ll be the first thing they say. Somewhere on their body will be the first words you’ll say to them.” Jack looks thoughtful.

“What do my words say, Maman?”

“Are you sure you can’t work it out?” Jack looks at his arm again, brow furrowed in concentration. His English reading ability is poorer than his French, and the handwriting is a bit too cursive for someone as young as him, but he’s always been determined. Alicia waits patiently as Jack mouths the words slowly, working them out in his head, trying to sound the letters into something he understands.

It’s five minutes before he smiles again, clearly pleased with himself. Whatever he’s worked out is evidently a sentence he understands from the way he bounces excitedly.

“Maman, I know what they’re saying!”

“You know what your soulmate is saying?”

“Oui. I know what they will say.” He takes a deep breath as he looks back down at his arm, running a small finger underneath the words as he reads them carefully out loud. His mother praises his reading, and after a few more minutes of questions about soulmarks the day returns to normal.

It’s only later, when he’s curled up in bed with his stuffed whale toy tucked against his body that he remembers the words again. He pulls back the sleeve of his pajamas to see the words still stark and clear on his skin, even in the low glow from his night light. He whispers them into the air wondrously. For all his excitement now, over the coming years his faith that the words will be spoken with good intention fade and fade as he learns more about the world.

By the time he’s fifteen he covers the words in a long arm sleeve specially designed to hide soulmarks. He only takes it off to shower, and never lets Kent see what’s beneath it. His mother tries to broach the topic once, suggests carefully that soulmarks are rarely ever said in the way one thinks, but his anger makes her sigh and leave it alone. She does encourage him to see a new therapist though, increasingly aware of his unimpeded anxiety over soulmarks and everything else. He feels guilty at his reaction to her concern so he reluctantly agrees to talk to someone about it. They’re better than the last one, and though they specialize in soulmate-related anxiety they quickly latch on to the fact that there are a lot more pressing things endangering Jack’s mental health. His visits are upped to thrice a week, and his prescription is swapped for something less intensive. It doesn’t rid him of anxiety, but it does help. He ends up making some changes to his life that help to lift some of the weight off his shoulders, and everything begins to feel more manageable.

When he’s drafted first pick to the Providence Falconers he’s in a tentatively good place. He’s happy about his team, pleased for Kent as he heads to Las Vegas with the Aces, and feels surprisingly positive despite the pressure the draft had put on him. The future looks brighter, clearer, and as he settles in during his first night in his new Providence apartment, he feels the urge to look at his words for the first time in years.

They still sting when he sees them, an old wound reopened, but he takes deep breaths. The writing is prettier than he remembers, and he almost chuckles at the thought that there’s someone out there with his god-awful handwriting on their body. He sobers up almost instantly, though, running a finger across the words like he did so many years ago. He knows what they mean: that his soulmate doesn’t want him, that he’s a disappointment, that he’s never going to have a relationship like his mother and father do with his soulmate. As he stares at the words he thinks that at least now he can probably deal with it. He’s got a great team and a promising future; a best friend; a much less strained relationship with his father. He knows, now, that he’s not a disappointment to his parents, even if he is to himself or his soulmate. He lives in a nice apartment in a nice area. He thinks he might get a dog.

Despite the hurt they cause, Jack finds himself pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his words, closing his eyes for a brief moment, desperately trying and failing to imagine a way someone could say these words and still want him.

Oh no, he recites in his head, those words that have been impossible to forget, it can’t be you.

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Wait. Before she breaks the glass she turns into a transformer similar to what she did in Bad Blood, then a white horse like the one in Blank Space appears, and then there’s the magic ball - element scene like Out of the Woods. She falls again, to get up and destroy the glass and the other Taylor. Remember what happened in ootw? In the end she was supposed to find herself, but what if it wasn’t totally her? What if NOW she’s finding a way to get out of the “prison” everyone could watch her into, but she could never get out of, until now - until reputation? She’s building bridges between the two eras, in order to destroy them. Remember that if it’s really a visual album the first mv would be her getting out of a giant GLASS BOX. Is it a coincidence that when she sings “he can be my jailer” she has an armor, something that constricted her? It’s like, she’s been trying to find a way to escape for years, but she couldn’t until now. She doesn’t need an armor or a horse. She needed to find her inner strength and power, but she had to learn how to use it. Also once out she gets to enjoy the view, or whatever is going to happen from now on, from the top of those stairs. And mostly she looks HAPPY for getting out (tears of joy).

anonymous asked:

Can you write an imagine where the reader and Harry are fighting and she starts crying and H make it up?

I am so so sorry this took forever to write! I had most of it written last week, but got caught up with all of my school work xx I hope you enjoy this though!

It was all so stupid. The fight you were currently having with Harry was nothing more than him being petty.

You had went out with a friend, someone you were partnered with for a project, and of course, it was another man. Even though you thought Harry was the most gorgeous person on the planet, he couldn’t help but be jealous, and that was how the fight started.

Harry would throw snide remarks around for a week, such as “Why don’t you go get Ryan to help you?” whenever you would ask for his help opening or reaching something.

The more remarks he made, the more frustrated you got. You understood that he was going to be jealous, but you wished he would just knock it off already. But of course, he didn’t.

The project was due in a couple days and you had to finish it, so you planned to meet Ryan out for lunch, but Harry wasn’t having it. He questioned where you were going, even insinuating that you were leaving to go fuck someone else instead of finishing your project.

His words stung as you were getting ready, and you couldn’t help but let tears form a pool around your eyes. “Would you please stop being such a dick about this?” You whispered out, officially tired of his accusations. He had never been like this before, and you weren’t sure why Ryan was such a big deal.

You were putting on your boots whenever you heard the most painful words Harry has ever said come out of his mouth. “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”

As you stood up, looking over his figure, the tears were now falling from your eyes. He didn’t seem to mind so much, and that was unlike him. His firm posture remained intact, and his eyes stone cold.

“Well…if that’s the way you feel, then I won’t.” You mumbled, wiping at your eyes. “Not gonna ruin a project and my grade just because you’re being a jealous asshole.” And with those words, you were out the door, making your way to your car.

While you were with Ryan, Harry had a lot of time to reflect. The memory of your tears were haunting his thoughts, and damn, he knew he shouldn’t have been so harsh, but it seemed every time he wanted time with you, you had some school shit to do.

Harry knew your schooling was important, but he also thought your potential future together was pretty important too…but now he had just ruined it. He didn’t know why he said what he did, to not come back, because that’s all he wanted right now…was for your arms to be wrapped around him, or hearing your soft hums coming from the kitchen as the delicious scent of spaghetti filled his nostrils.

He made his way to the kitchen, planning to make a romantic dinner for the two of you. Obviously you had to come back; you didn’t take any clothes or toiletries with you.

Harry began preparing your favorite dish, also deciding to make a red velvet cake. This took quite some time, and before he knew it, it was around eight and there was a sound of a car door shutting. He scrambled to gather candles and light them, placing them around the food that was now set at the table.

Just as you were walking in the door, he was standing in your way. His face held so much sorrow, and you lifted your face to look at him. “Sorry I came back…had to get some things.” A faint smile that was fake was forced onto your face, and you sighed, trying to maneuver yourself around him. “Harry…come on…just let me get my things and go.”

Harry placed his hands over your eyes, redirecting your movements towards the kitchen. Once he removed his hands, your jaw dropped. Everything he had done looked so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but tear up, even though you were still so mad at him.

“I’m sorry I was a dick…a big one in fact, but please don’t leave.” His arms wrapped around your waist from behind you, and he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I just hate the thought of some other guy getting all your attention…especially when I have to leave you so often.”

Your hands were now resting over his, and a giggle escaped your lips. “You sure do know the way to my heart. My favorite food? You must actually feel bad.”

Your words caused Harry to smile, and he moved his hand to press his lips to your temple. “That I do angel, that I do.”


Request: Draco and Y/N are best friends, but he starts dating Pansy. Y/N is in love with Draco so she distances herself from him because she hates to see them together. It hurts him emotionally when she avoids him because he’s in love with her but thought he didn’t have a chance, and he finally confesses.

⇢  Draco x Slytherin Reader; no Voldemort; requests are paraphrased

“We need to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked around the genial Slytherin common room. A soft green glow settled, casting a calming shadow in the bustling space. “Then talk.”

“In private.”

Ignoring the ooh sounds made by Crabbe and Goyle, you stood up and followed Draco to his dormitory. “Is something bothering you?”

“No,” he replied, sitting down on his bed, his head resting on his arms. Feeling your weight next to him, he sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

You folded your arms as you leaned against the headboard, peering at the small slither of Draco’s exposed face. “I’ve been your friend for all these years, yet I’ve never seen you look this disgruntled.”

Best friend,” he corrected, giving you a slight smile. 

“Who knows you more than anyone,” you agreed. “So, tell me, then. Who’s the girl?”

“How did you know this is about a girl–” Draco ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his body to face yours. “Forget it. That was an idiotic question. You know me too well.”

“Of course.” You stretched your legs across his lap. “What’s the problem, then? Afraid she doesn’t like you?”

“Afraid she likes me too much, more like.”

You shook your head and stared up at the ceiling in mock disdain. “What a hard life it must be, being Draco Malfoy. How terrible it seems for all the girls to fall for your bad boy facade.” You shot him a sympathetic glance. “Sounds rough.”

“But the only girl that matters won’t fall for me.” Draco paused and looked at you theatrically. “Or so she claims. I believe she has something else to tell me…”

This has been an on-going joke between you and Draco for a while now, but lately, when he’d kid about liking you, you caught your heart skipping a beat. Of course, every time that happened, you would shove your unbearable feelings away in disgust.

“Keep dreaming, Malfoy.” You looked down, examining your manicured nails. “Well? Aren’t you going to tell me which girl you’re talking about?”

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got7 reactions: married life.



JB: married life with Jaebum in my opinion would be very domestic. Dinner together every night, or as many nights as he can. Breakfast together at the dining table, date nights on the weekends, buying furniture and going grocery shopping together JB strikes me as someone who would kill for all those marriage life he sees on TV. He strikes me as someone who wants the normal stuff and enjoys it. Cooking together and sleeping in each other’s arms every night, he would want it all.

Originally posted by curlstae

Mark: married life with mark, my lord I can picture it already (*cough* not my bias or anything *cough *) married life with mark would be serene and peaceful. He would want to pamper and take care of his lovely wife, little surprises here and there, cooking for her, drawing her a bath. But also it would be water gun fights in the house and pushing her in the pool. Dragging her out to a different adventure every time. Raising coco together and maybe get another dog.

Originally posted by thekpopquartet

Jinyoung: married life with Jinyoung would be very romantic and domestic, kind of like JB. He seems very traditional and it feels like his married life would be the same. Date night, romantic dinner in candlelight, cheesy romantic gestures, rose petals on the bed with candles all around when he forgot an anniversary or a date. Drawing you a bubble bath and joining you to give you a massage when you tell him you had a long day. Overall romantic and traditional.

Originally posted by markjin

Jackson: this man was made to be a husband (*cough * right Lisa @jisawang *cough *) he would be the protective kind. Always making sure his wife was okay and healthy and would pamper her every chance he got, which would end up being every other day. He would try to rope her into his workout sessions, which all depending on his S/O would be either very easy or very hard. He would want to have romantic nights making sure you know how much he loves you *wink wink * and other times he would come home frustrated and just pin you to the wall. Married life with Jackson will be praises and adoration from him and from you, reminding him of what a beautiful talented man he is whenever he starts doubting.

Originally posted by markjin

Youngjae: oh my sweet sweet child, my little sunshine. Married life would be just that; sunshine. Everyday would be so bright and joyful he would make sure you are always happy and smiling. (Which would be hard not to cause that angels smile would be contagious.) He would be so caring and attentive to you. He would want to sing you to sleep to you every night or really every chance he got. Cooking in the kitchen; sing, cleaning the house; sing, taking a shower; sing. You would be blessed with that boys vocals everyday. He would probably get a dog in the first few months of your married life, if you didn’t have one already. He would be very playful, going out to the park, the beach, the pool, amusement park you name it, if you can play and have maximum fun, you bet your ass you are doing it. I just love that boy so much, CHERISH HIM!

Originally posted by huggableyoungjae

Bambam: okay dabdab. Dear lord I hope you like memes. That boy would want you guys to always be trendy. Follow every new Internet trend, fashion trend, food trend; you name it, if its top 10 you are making your life about it. He is a fashionista so life with him would always be fashionable. He will probably drag you shopping every week, so if you don’t like shopping like myself, brace yourselves, and learn to love it cause its gonna be a big part of your life. He would be very playful, cracking jokes, playing pranks, teasing. Your house life wouldn’t be domestic per say but it will never be boring.  You would be in bed getting ready to sleep and end up both laughing so hard you have tears running down your face. Bambam would always make sure you were happy, and would find a way to make it up to you if you had a fight or forgot a date. Married life with Bambam would be silly jokes and all the trends he can find and a lot of laughs, there will never be a dull moment.

Originally posted by wassereis

Yugyeom: okay this little bunny, this sinful bunny am I right ladies no? Okay lets just get right to it. Married life with this bun would be giggly, let me explain. This boy is pretty much shy no matter what he lets on, on stage. So even though you guys would be married it would be whole new experience for him. Even if you have been living together prior, for him it will feel like the first time all over again. He is gonna be excited for everything with you. Late nights of him showing you a new choreography, boasting to his hyungs when you make him lunch, eating breakfast together and supper would be the things he will be very serious about. Spending as much time as possible with each other and making sure you are eating. He would be a flirt, now when I say flirt I mean just with you. He would flirt just like the very first day he met you. He would feel excited about getting into the domestic life and would be extra on all those ordinary things married couples do. Married life with Yugyeom will be somewhat innocent and pure but also exciting and safe. You will never feel insecure or unstable cause he will make sure of it. *whispers * protect him*      

Originally posted by chichangyu

Wet Dreams and Stuttered Confessions

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Rating: M

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst??? (Briefly)

TW: Underage sex, cursing

A/N: I have no idea, honestly. I just was playing a door game and this is the first scenario I got??? I’m going to make more based on the door games I play, so watch out. (P.S. this is my first smut fic ever please don’t bash me for being bad at this)

It was no secret to anyone that you and Taehyung were best friends.

In fact, if someone didn’t notice how close you and the boxy-smiled boy were, they were literally seen as the most unintelligent and oblivious people in the world. Mostly due to the fact that you and Tae were basically attached at the hip, always joking around and play fighting and bickering and just acting like toddlers around each other.

If there was a day you didn’t see him, there were approximately four-quadrillion messages, three missed calls, and seven voicemails (you don’t even know how he manages that, but-) left on your phone by the time you go to bed.

And this phone-splosion is what you’ve been experiencing for the past week or so.

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Which one is Hikaru? (Hikaru and Karou Hatchinn x Reader) (Request)

Gif Not Mine

Anonymous:  Would you mind doing a Hikaru x reader (from ouran high school host club)? If you could thank you!

Word Count: 5,399

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The Tears Are Real (Avengers/Parker x reader)

Request:  Omg requests are open!!! Can you please do one where the avengers pretty much adopted you and have seen you grow up, and help you get ready for your prom? Lots of protectiveness and adult tears. Please throw in our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.


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Safe And Sound (Sherlock x dying!reader)

Warnings: Character death, blood and angst

Had you ever thought of your last words? Ever tried foreseeing what could be your last breath and in what occasion? If you would be to die in an accident maybe there wouldn’t be time for you to even realize what would happen. An illness could take you out, slowly spreading and destroying you, an agonizing death, or even a fast one. Only being told you have a week, a day or hours to live. That was a question no one could answer to, not if never facing an alarming situation that would predict death.

The night had started to fall sooner and faster than usually, or so it felt like. Normally the sun would still be up, maybe it was because of the cloudy day or it had tried to warn you, like foretelling you this would be the darkest day of your life, even the last.

The ground under your laying body gave you no comfort as you shuddered. You could feel everything around you get cold, the chilly stone floor radiating and affecting everyone in the room, even the lone furnitures, creeping up your spine and taking over your whole being. Even if you had dressed warmly it wasn’t enough to keep the cold away, not anymore. A huge cut that you were covering poorly with your hands was spilling blood over your pale fingers, ruining the white shirt you had been wearing and there was no use of putting pressure on the wound, still you did so, but it didn’t stop the bleeding.

Never had you felt so alone, so distant to the object in the room you were in. Even if the big and almost completely empty room, if you would leave out the lousy decoration that contained only a dresser, a sofa and a table near the door way, it was the most eeriest place to be in. There were no windows in the said room, you couldn’t almost see, not even the moon light being able to shine upon you. The closest window was in the next room and the light that came through didn’t carry itself to your present. You could hear your breathing and your cries. You tried to stay calm and sane, but couldn’t help to start lose your hope and strength. You couldn’t keep up like this.

Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You had hard time on concentrating on your surroundings and so you kept your eyes on your hands that tried desperately keep the blood inside of you, but failing miserably. You tried to keep your breathing steady, it became the only sound you could hear and not even people approaching you brought you out of your trance until he was right beside you.

He had ran at you as he saw you from the door way. You remembered him hollering for you previously, but as you had been busy you had not had the time to answer and as you collapsed, all you could do was try to keep yourself awake, your hands on your stomach.

He called for you, repeatedly, his hands supporting you. You could feel him shake, from shock. He was out of options. You knew he was able to see the wound and how much you had already lost blood. When his hands shook, dancing over your body as if he wasn’t able to see where the wound was, trying to blindly find the spot where to put pressure, you took your hands away from the wound. You wrapped your fingers softly around his wrists. His hands shaking, but not waving over you, you lift your gaze to meet his. His eyes, those wildly blue colored eyes were wide from fear, from shock, his lips apart, his mind racing.

”Sherlock…” You whispered. Your voice was weak, you had no idea how tired you already were. You could feel the taste of iron, but not wanting to ruin the moment you swallowed the blood that tried to come up your throat.

”No, don’t talk.” He said with a shaky voice, his hands finally pressing on your wound. You grunted, Sherlock’s hands pulling away at you wincing, but then pressing on you again. ”Just stay awake.” His eyes wildly gazed around as if trying to find anything to help you. Desperately he sighed when he couldn’t come up with anything. He pulled himself closer to you, his hands firmly on you.

”Sherlock,” You softly whispered. You put your hand on his, prying his hands off of you, but not forcibly, ”it’s okay.”

If you weren’t in that state, you would cry for his expression. You had never seen the consulting detective so lost and helpless. He longed for resting his hands over your stomach, but he knew you were right. There was no use for that now.

”I’m so sorry.” He cried after silence. He rested his forehead against your, pulling you to his arms and holding you in his embrace. Even his hug wasn’t enough to keep you warm, but it gave you enough on other levels. You felt calm and safe in his arms.

”I won’t make it, right?” You couldn’t help it when your voice broke. The words were so final, there was nothing you could do to stop this or save it. This would be your stop, you would cease to exist, you wouldn’t be waking up and see the sun, feel the warmth of summer.

”No.” It was all he said, but it was enough. You didn’t need him to say anything else, you knew he couldn’t say no more either. This was it.

”Don’t leave me here alone.” You cried as you looked at him as he had pulled away slightly to see your face. he promised not to, to be there till the end, which you both knew was near. He pulled you back to his embrace, you could hear him sniffle as he pressed you against himself.

It felt like hours as you lay there, but you knew it was only minutes. The pool pf blood next to you was growing and it was reflecting your time in a clock like way, the bigger it grew the less time you had.

You whimpered. You were feeling colder and colder, and Sherlock could feel it too. He leaned his lips next to your ear, you knew he was getting ready to soon be holding your lifeless body. He cried, tears leaving his eyes and going down his cheeks, some escaping to your hair. You felt Sherlock’s lips part and he whispered, with a calm voice to you words that would carry you away, that would let you go in peace.

”Just close your eyes, you’ll be alright. No one can hurt you now.” He placed a kiss on your cheek. ”You will be safe and sound.”


Soft Lips and Birthday Wishes (pt.III)

“I think you were always meant to know me a little better than anyone else. And our lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. I know there is a terrible distance between us. But our bodies are made of celestial light, and we are hurtling through space and time, toward the most beautiful collision.”

ft. Rei Ohara by @plumbobsophy

You know, somethimes I think about how my experience with mp100 may be different than most people because like- I only watched the anime, and I’m waiting for hopefully season 2 before I read the manga since I prefer anime first.


aNd I ThInK tO MySeLf “oh cool since theres 100 in the name its probably a celebration chapter or something, maybe it’ll be coloured”



including the fact that this is the first installment of the chapter and its not done yet and that it updates weekly



AND HE TELLS HIS FRIENDS AND EVERYONES SUPPORTIVE and im thinking to myself “my son has grown up and I may have not seen the entire journey but I can tell he grew up and im so freakin proud ” (I DIDNT EVEN KNOW ABOUT SEPARATION ARC YET SO HA, don’t know that much now either, just a few spoilers)

Even a nice random flower man is helping


but also alil afraid of tsubomi’s response




And then I cried tears of sadness and wtf-just-happened-ness

and thus began my journey of crying weekly over chapter 100