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MAKE ME CHOOSE ↳ wings or love yourself era? — anonymous

There are not enough hours in the day to listen to Mixtape: OH as many times as I want to.

💛🦐

TXT COMEBACK!!!!

These photos are going to be the death of me omg.

why dont you read/watch something that forces you to confront the fact that you are capable of feeling empathy for a person who has done deeply cruel or evil things. And maybe you’ll calm down

Hey Panko Shrimps!

How are we doing today? I am currently obsessed with this picture of Joseph Quinn photoshopped onto a cockroach

I hope you're all having a lovely day.

💛🦐

When you both survive to 1987, and your boyfriend takes you to see the hottest new rock act in town. Then feels jealous because his other half is crushing on the guitarist HARD.

‘That better be a packet of lifesavers in your pocket, Munson.’

‘I admit nothing.’

All I Need

NIGEL BANYAI X READER ⚠️ Warnings: None ⚠️

You're wandering the streets of Bucharest at night when you come face-to-face with your "ex" husband, Nigel. There's a rekindling- even if only for a moment- where you realize he might be more intertwined in your life than you'd thought.

Disconcertment washes over your face like a flood when you see him walking forwards, in that haunting but familiar walk you'd grown used to. He was polished, as per usual, adorned with a dog printed button down and a cigarette lax between his teeth. The protruding fold of his shirt would be incomprehensible to passerby who didn't know of his hobbies, but to you, it was the imprint of a gun.

His eyes shifting up from the road he was walking down and meeting yours held you in a trance. There was something to be studied about the man's eyes; so full of agonizing self-inflicted sorrow that shone through the very core of his being and simmered into the rest of the world through his gaze. He was deeply saddened. But it was all under a mask of his he wore to wind through the mindless crowds so that there wasn't anything about his character to be discovered unless he'd wanted you to. His cheekbones shone under the streetlights with their summery glow making waves of blues and pinks and greens with the lights from overhead in the city. He was a Monet painting come to life, a landscape of colors washing away everyone else and drawing you inwards to where he stood, finally stopping amidst a puddle from rain fallen this morning. He was beautiful. But he was also dangerous.

You had finally stopped running from him long ago. That sadness he contained within himself had become ever so apparent throughout your relationship and spilled over into everything else. He tormented himself so deeply that it was only a matter of time before he tormented you.

Never with his touch, no. His touch had always been careful, predetermined. He would never have laid a hand on you that wasn't accepting or invited by the warmth in your features and your verbal acknowledgement. Even after long arguments where you'd fallen asleep on your side of the bed, turned away from him, he would caress you only with his mind.

Instead, his torment was his love. There was too much of it, too little of a mutual understanding of what was wrong and what was right. He had been too suffocating in his eternal vows to protect you and love you. And with this time period in your life- this new one you'd created for yourself- you couldn't suppress your desires of freedom. You'd allowed him to love you and whisk you away with his promises (which he'd kept, of course), but you'd never been able to experience the world, let alone the streets of Bucharest in the way you'd always wanted to- on your own.

But you had loved him. There was no denying that.

And despite all your efforts to push him away; to ask him to take his love and give it to someone more deserving, someone who'd understand his suffocating requests of social isolation and relationship devotion, he was always finding his way back to you. His heart seemed to have a mind of its own which never coincided with the work he performed or the crimes he'd commit.

And here you were, by the famous Hostel off the side streets of tourist-populated areas, staring at one another. Both of you with the impression that the other was a work of art, staring into one another's souls as if they had painted the landscapes themselves. You heard the faint chatter of those nearby; the drunks walking back home from a night out, stumbling over their feet and laughing with their partners holding them up. The children who'd been playing hopscotch despite their parent's wishes at this hour in the night. The sound of the rain from earlier dripping off the rooftops and onto the parked cars below. And through all the commotion, it was just Nigel and you.

He offered something to you that most people would never see in their lifetime from a man like him. A smile.

You sent one back through slightly teary eyes, hoping for a minute he would look into you the way you were looking into him and that he would understand your internal dismay. You'd never loved like you loved him. Ever. And that would be true for the rest of your life. Your relationship had been an amalgamation of every emotion and he brought out sides of you that you'd never prepared yourself to confront. It was beautiful. It was bittersweet. And it was over.

He knew. He knew you'd wanted nothing more than your freedom, which was the one thing he didn't know how to give you. Not even now. He knew it was at the expense of your own happiness, but he couldn't help himself to follow you around Bucharest even if you hadn't caught him in the act of doing so, such as tonight. He wanted to be in your life anyway you would let him and even though the former was preferred, he was okay with learning how to live on the outskirts of your heart while you lived on the very insides of his.

He'd follow you around Bucharest and he'd follow you around the world.

You shifted in your jacket, despite the summer air. Your eyes had gone from his to the subway opening a couple yards away, where you'd initially been heading. There was your apartment waiting for you, where you'd have your own melancholic isolation. It was a hop skip and a jump away from the man who'd been your husband for all the years prior.

An image came into your head just then. One of a faraway place, tucked into the crevices of your mind so far back you'd almost forgotten its existence entirely. A cool night in your city where he'd gone on a walk with you, wearing the same jacket you had on now. You had chopped your hair and dyed it bright orange following the news of your father's death. It was just a silly coping mechanism to you, but Nigel had smiled when he'd walked into your shared apartment and saw the brightly colored hair littering the floor tiles. He'd suggested a walk to get some fresh air, under the rainbow colored lights you'd grown so fond of.

That night, you were looking at the snowflakes falling from above, threatening them with your tongue to catch them in your mouth and have them melt against your lips. They refracted against the colors in the sky, a light magenta touching the clouds as far as the eyes could see. Shimmery eyeshadow caught in the corners of your eyes, making them appear to be even more wet and filled with sorrow than they were. Nigel was here for you though, admiring the way you turned around in the snow, over and over again as if you were the little dancing figurine hidden in a jewelry box.

He'd held you close to him as you cried the eyeshadow in streaks of black down your face, the orange seeming less bright and the snow feeling more cold. You hadn't felt the totality of his admiration for you until this night, where his hug wasn't more than just that. Before his presence became a prison. He smiled at you, one of those toothy grins only he was capable of managing.

And then, he let go. This was the only time he'd done so on his own accord, almost leaving you fighting to be back in his embrace. He turned to the subway, then to you and back to the subway before leaning in with a kiss,

"urmează-mă și te voi săruta."

And then he went racing off into the night towards the never stopping trains ahead. Smiling, you ran after him. Eyes still wet with the tears for your father and hair still orange from the impulsive chop. The wind whipped through it, leaving you with a coldness on the back of your neck you weren't used to. It felt freeing, though. Your first taste of freedom. Running after him, you saw the water from the other side of town, touching the sky and creating more of the pinky-blue color that Bucharest was full of. The snow crunched under your feet as you placed one in front of the other before the soles of your shoes hit the concrete steps leading underground. Nigel was only a few meters away, sliding down the poles in his dog button down he favorited.

And then suddenly you came to a halt as you crashed into him, stopping the chase almost as soon as you'd started it, in the middle of the busy underground station. You'd lost your balance ever so slightly but he held you upright, not letting you fall.

And suddenly your eyes were on his. There was such a beautiful agony within them. There was far more to this man than you'd ever know and his love would have no bounds. He was soft in the way he stared at you, mouth pressed into a smile as he really took you in with everything you were. Nothing was lost in translation as you looked at him, his soul instantly filling your own. Everything was slowing down but the two of you, seemingly lost in time to the rest of the world with the passing trains and people.

"I will never stop looking for you." He whispered softly. voice suddenly laced with concern.

You were confused, looking up at the man you'd known you'd be with for infinity. "I'm right here?" You questioned, wondering what the significance of his words could mean, if they were laced with an underlying hidden message as concealed as the man's identity himself.

He smiled once more. "I will never stop looking for your kind of love." He corrected himself and you felt your insides go fuzzy with a warm and loving feeling.

You smiled from across the street, towards the same junction you'd run down the first time he'd proposed a nighttime walk. This could get you into a lot of trouble, to hint at the idea of a potential rekindling with the man known to be a criminal. The man who'd offered you nothing but love, even if there was a side of toxicity it'd been served with.

It was at that moment that you deeply felt the confines of your freedom without him- and it felt suffocating.

You both locked eyes once again, and he had a look on his features as though he'd been reminiscing about the same memory. It was impossible for him to truly still want something with you after all this time, wouldn't it be? You had pushed him away countless times, over and over. Whenever you'd seen him in public since the official ending of everything, you'd never spared him more of a glance.

Fuck it.

"urmează-mă și te voi săruta." You whispered under your breath, figuring the future would be in whether or not he could read your lips, if he would have remembered that time from so long ago, if he still wanted to be with you. A tear fell from your eye and cascaded down your cheek almost as silently as you'd spoken his phrase, "Find me, and I will kiss you."

Not even a second later, you both sprinted towards the subway.

BRAD PITT

Brad Pitt:

Bike Rides and Cigarettes: Bike riding with your husband + shared cigarette + a cute bookstore = the perfect date in Paris.

(Romance/Fluff)

Cliff Booth:

Dating Cliff Booth: Just some headcannons on what it would be like to date the sexy stuntman.

(Romance/Fluff)

Blueberries and Cigarettes: A short drabble where the reader finds out there's more to the man with the Hawaiian shirt than he lets on. Cliff Booth X Reader!

(Romance/Fluff)

Tyler Durden:

It's Hot To Punch A Blonde Guy In A Bar: A Tyler Durden X Reader where they punch a blonde guy in the bar. Couple goals!

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Dating Tyler Durden: Just a few headcannons revolving around the concept of being Tyler's love interest.

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Dating Tyler Durden pt.2: More headcannons!!

(Romance/Fluff/Slight nsfw themes)

Fuck Your Life's Perception: Tyler shows he cares about you. Just chilling with the Master of Destruction.

(Romance/Fluff)

Ladybug (& Tangerine):

Lady Luck: You find yourself with a bunch of idiots on a train. Sexy idiots.

(Romance/Fluff)

Head Cannon #1: Just a short drabble for Tangerine and Ladybug!

(Romance/Fluff)

Sunshine

(Dad!) JUNG HOSEOK X READER

Just a drabble.

The living room of your small apartment was a radiant summery orange as the sun poked its way up above the clouds. The long windows that looked down upon the cityscape below refracted said light, and prism colors started to dance around the room and bend against the many many picture frames of you and your family with Hoseok. A smiling boy and girl positioned between the two of you in a round frame was the focal point of the mantle piece; the rest of the house being full of sillier photos of the people you'd come to love so much.

Hoseok could be heard from the girl's room, a grumble of complaints coming from the doorframe. Your youngest always hated waking up this early to get ready for school. Hoseok had a way of going about it though, where he would bribe her with the delicious cereal bars so loved oh so much and would promise to make her bacon on Wednesdays since he didn't have to be into the office for another few hours. This was what reluctantly got her out of bed and had her sauntering towards the kitchen without paying attention to the time at all. He would put pigtails in her hair so the whole apartment would smell like the apple detangler that she loved so much. Once she got to school, however, she never wanted to leave. Unlike you, your daughter loved math and science and would spend all her recess time reading books about space under the branches of a nearby tree while the rest of the students played. Hoseok was quite proud to hear how studious she was when the two of you had gone for a parent-teacher conference a couple of weeks prior.

Your boy was now twelve, so he was usually able to get up on his own. He definitely developed his own fashion sense through stealing his parents' clothes, which you found to be quite adorable considering most kids that age usually just go to school in graphic tees. He has dreams of being a fashion designer, so the two of you had gone out and bought many sketchpads and designer books with the models preprinted onto the pages. It was important to both you and Hoseok that your children's interests were never taken for granted, and that you were able to provide support wherever that may be. So when your son came home with painted nails and drawings all over his arms, the two of you knew he would have his mother's creative and artsy side. You loved the varying differences in your children's personalities.

Hoseok then ran into the room holding up your daughter as though she were a fighter plane and made silly noises as he flew her about and into the kitchen, her giggles following shortly after. Your son hustled his way out of the hallway frantically trying to collect his schoolbooks while he rubbed at the eyeliner he put under his eyes. He gave you a look which read "uh can you help?" But with kindness and urgency, as your kids gave you and Hoseok the utmost respect.

It was times like these where you felt the strongest wave of emotion. Mornings with your family were never going to not be important to you; especially after not having that as a child. Suddenly you were back to the dining room from the farmhouse twenty years prior, sitting all alone in the dark and spoon-feeding yourself the stale cereal as you waited for the right time to wake up your siblings and tell them to get ready for the bus. There was a crack in the table, as there were many imperfections in the house, and you would rub your finger over the sharp edge which threatened to leave a mark if you pushed against it too roughly. The wallpaper was falling off the ceiling and you wondered if the house felt the same way you did; pretty on the outside, but deteriorating in regard to the parts the public never saw. It was a burning house and you were burning with it.

You vowed long ago to never let yourself set your new family on fire like your father had.

In a way, it was you rekindling the relationship you had with younger you; a parent sitting at the table with a child who'd presumed she'd been forgotten even though you weren't there physically. She would always feel like someone was watching over her, and you hoped she knew it was herself. You wished you could go back and tell her that the things her father said to her weren't true. That she was worthy of love. That she did belong somewhere. That she wasn't a failure. That she'll make it out of this situation alive and that she'd go through trial and error with people whom she'll love wholeheartedly but will never love her until she gets the family of her dreams with a man who's nothing like the one in her old household.

So when your son came up to you and said "mom, I really really love art," you knew your reply would always be "I'm so proud of you for your drawings, let's hang them up on the fridge" because the man in your house had forgetfully thrown them away amongst his other papers.

When your daughter said she was feeling lonesome, your first reaction would be to console her and tell her that there is so much life to live and there are some parts she'll have to face alone, but never fully. That she'll always kindle people's hearts with her kindness and her love for life, a contrast from the man who told you that it was because you were unlovable.

When your husband made your kids those sandwiches they loved so much and spent a long time cutting them up into stars just to see a smile on their faces, a part of that kindness went to the you who never got it. When your husband insisted on taking trips as a family somewhere where everyone would love and would spend an hour playing with the kids on the playground, the you from before found some happiness. When your son was jamming out to music, Hoseok would be the first to walk into the room and offer to dance with him. When your daughter got older and expressed her concerns with her weight, Hoseok would be the one to hold her and tell her she's beautiful regardless of physical appearance.

When your son goes through his first heartbreak, your husband would be the first to tell him about how he'll love a lot of people in his life and not all of them will be good, but he will be good because he is a lover. When your daughter has her first anxiety attack, your husband will be the first to make her tea and offer the chance to watch a movie which will eventually become her favorite because she associates it with a good memory.

Last night he took a lamp off the living room table and placed it in the middle of the floor. He moved the furniture around to make more space and then emptied out cans of paint into the roller container and painted the living room while dancing with his kids whom you both adored so much.

And when your kids go off to college, Hoseok will be the first one to cry and give a hug and try to convince them to go out to lunch one more time as a family just to spend every moment he has with them before he can't see them everyday. And your son/daughter will smile and say they can't because there's just oh so much to unpack and he'll understand and cry to the songs he remembers playing that night they all danced in the living room together and will set his phone wallpaper to a picture of them.

And even though the kids are still small and the years have yet to go by, there's not a day you regret loving and giving your heart to people. Because even though you gave it out to the wrong person a few times, there was never a time you would say you regretted it because the thing you know best about yourself is your capacity to love. Boundlessly and endlessly.

And Hoseok wasn't there for all of it, but he'd be there for the rest of it and that was good enough for you. Because in a way, he was always there. When you had those nights with your father where you couldn't walk into school the next day without falling asleep. Where home life got so rough you'd find yourself silently crying in the school bathroom. When looking at yourself in the mirror became too difficult of a task so you'd have to shower with the lights off. When everything was too much, but you envisioned having a family of your own one day and someone who'd love you the way you'd loved everyone else. And you got it.

And he was currently feeding your eight year old bacon and looking at you with the most adoration you've ever seen a human being muster.

For once, everything was okay.

BTS of Spiderman: no way home