He Is So Perfect - Tumblr Posts
Sky for the outfit swap series,,, in my defense I was taking my sister to find riding boots… in Sky’s defense, he does ride a giant bird.
Actual photo of me after seeing Aizen in bleach 618
What my mom thinks about Tom Hiddleston
I showed some Hiddleston pictures to my 67 year old mother and this is how she reacted:
"He is old" (only 10 years older than me..)
"And he could be your father" (acording his age...again mom...no! She said this because I showed her a picture of Hiddleston with beard)
(Picture of Loki) "Is he evil? He looks like a bad boy" oh..mom...
"He is ugly" Mom!! No!!
And the last thing she said: "Stop dreaming and eat your breakfast"
Mom...you are mean!
REPLAY: Connected
REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 4.8k | Bang Chan x Reader
warnings: exes to lovers, angst, food, anxiety, breakup (recollection), reconciliation, use of petnames (it's Chan, of course there's gonna be some "babygirl" sprinkled in), a lil swearing
synopsis:
The boy next door had been your first everything. First love, first kiss, first time making love.
And your first heartbreak.
Visiting home for the holidays and seeing his house next door never failed to stir up memories of your relationship. Whether by luck or sheer happenstance, he hadn't made it home since the two of you set off for your respective universities.
So why, for the first time in nearly four years, had he shown up now?
permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts
“All that I want is you, even if I’m a fool.”
It was Christmas Eve, and being back in your hometown for the holidays never failed to remind you of how much you missed two things.
Your mother’s baking and your highschool sweetheart - Christopher Bang.
It was impossible to ignore either of them as you approached the bright red door of the house you grew up in, having to walk through the shadow cast by the Bang family home to knock on your own as the comforting scent of sweets wafted out through a barely-open window.
It was that smell alone that kept the incessant ache thoughts of Chris always put in your heart from becoming unbearable.
Your hand hadn’t even reached the doorbell before the door swung open, revealing your mother’s shining grin. Eyes that matched your own sparkled with joy as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. You laughed softly at her excitement, feeling your entire body relax as you were welcomed home.
“It’s good to see you, too, mom,” you teased as you were pulled into a ridiculously tight hug.
“Hush, I’m allowed to miss my own child,” she tutted before releasing you with a smile, pulling the door shut to keep out the chill.
“I missed you, too,” you admitted, slipping out of your jacket and hanging it over one of the many hooks protruding from the wall.
“Come, now, help me with the cookies and tell me about your classes,” You barely registered your mother’s words before hand was once again grabbed, your body being pulled behind her own, bringing you to laugh once more as she led you to the kitchen.
As per usual for this time of year, the kitchen was cluttered with different containers - all filled to the brim with various candies and cookies. As you crossed the threshold, you wished you could bottle up the fragrance in the air. This was what home smelled like.
You washed your hands before reaching into a bowl of rich-smelling dough, following your mother’s patient instructions as you rolled it into spheres and set them neatly on a baking sheet. As per her request, you launched into the highlights of your most recent semester of college.
You spared her the more mundane details, though you knew she’d just as happily listen if you hadn’t, continuing to space the balls of dough evenly on the tray. Save for a few hums to confirm she was in fact listening, your mother stood quietly - hands busy in a bowl filled with ingredients, presumably to give you more to do.
You were in the midst of recounting a particularly amusing moment you’d shared with your roommate when the doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts and your mother from her task. She flipped on the faucet and rinsed her hands clean, drying them against her apron before giving you an apologetic smile.
“Be right back, just keep rolling!” she chirped, heading for the front door.
You simply nodded, unbothered by the interruption. After your mother had brought her cookies to a community potluck your first year here, it had become something of a tradition for your neighbors to swing by on Christmas Eve for a few treats.
You heard two sets of footsteps making their way towards you and readied yourself to greet whichever neighbor had stopped in, looking up at the doorway just in time to catch your mother guiding none other than Mrs. Bang towards you.
You locked eyes with Chris’ mother and smiled. Despite the unresolved feelings you had for her son, Mrs. Bang had always been nothing short of kind towards you. She radiated the same warmth as your own mother, approaching you with a fond twinkle in her eye.
“Hey, Mrs. Bang,” you greeted her first, only serving to brighten her expression further. She beamed as she arrived at your side, putting her arm around your shoulders and squeezing so as not to pull you from the job your mother had assigned you.
“It’s good to see you, dear,” she sweetly hummed, releasing you to grab a box of goodies from your mother. The two women were exchanging small talk, most of which you tuned out until Mrs. Bang called your name.
You placed the last piece of dough onto the sheet before looking up, brows raised as you waited for her to continue.
“Your mother was telling me you’re graduating this spring,” she began, a look of pride on her face as she addressed you, “Do you have any plans?”
You nodded, before walking over to the sink and washing your hands, drying them while you spoke, “Yeah, I’ve actually got a position waiting for me after I get my degree, I’m actually–” you stifled a smirk at your mother’s boastful grin behind Mrs. Bang before she interrupted you.
“My baby is moving back to town in just four short months!” You couldn’t even be mad at her for stealing your announcement as she bounced on her toes excitedly. You hadn’t seen your mother so happy since you’d gotten your acceptance letter for your first choice university.
Mrs. Bang’s brows shot up, “Really? How wonderful!” she crooned, a genuine smile blossoming across her face, “You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime, then,” she continued, “Just like the good old days!”
You nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, “Of course,” you agreed, keeping your expression neutral in front of the maternal pair despite the painful realization of the main difference between a dinner with the Bangs then versus now.
Christopher was your boyfriend back then.
Your mother was completely oblivious to the spontaneous heaviness you felt in the air around you, continuing to speak with Mrs. Bang animatedly.
“Speaking of dinner, were you still planning on joining us tomorrow?”
This was normal between your two families, hosting the other for the holidays. Especially after you and Chris had both gone off to your respective schools - sometimes unable to make it back. It was actually pretty cute, the two mothers commiserating over the lack of their children being home for Christmas.
You tried not to worry like you had during previous years. Despite your anxiety over the possibility, Christopher hadn’t made it home for any of these dinners so far, his work ethic somehow managing to beat out the considerable love you knew he held for his family.
His final year at school would be a strange time to choose to change that, wouldn’t it?
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it!” Mrs. Bang responded kindly, “Though I should probably get home to prepare the dishes I’ll be bringing. Thank you for the sweets, as always.” She gave a polite bow to your mother, who simply waved her hand as if her thanks were absolutely unnecessary - walking her to the door and shouting pleasant goodbyes after her.
You spent the rest of the afternoon assisting your mother with the baking, grateful that she’d taken over most of the talking whilst your mind was brimming with thoughts of Christopher. She seemed to be more than content with your silence, likely figuring you were simply being attentive, as she filled you in on what you’d missed around town.
Before long, evening had come. The conversations with your mother all seemed to blur together, even throughout the meal you’d shared, due to the overdrive your brain had been thrust into following the reminder of Christmas dinner.
You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed in your childhood room, staring at the walls that your younger self had insisted be painted pink. Everything was just as you’d left it, from the patchwork comforter atop your mattress to the now-dust ridden yearbook on your nightstand.
You wished you didn’t remember why it wasn’t amongst the other keepsakes - in a box on the top shelf of your closet. You wished you’d put it away on one of your prior visits, rather than leaving it untouched on the nightstand for nearly four years.
You weren’t sure why you hadn’t put it away before leaving for college in the first place, nor why you hadn’t during any of your subsequent visits. All you really knew was that the mere thought of hiding it away felt wrong - felt final.
Considering the events that led you to seek solace in its pages, you supposed the way you felt was perfectly reasonable.
You had been so excited to meet up with your then-boyfriend that night. You’d just returned from touring campus and couldn’t wait to tell him all about it. Christopher had seemed a little off ever since you’d told him about your acceptance letter, but - at the time - you’d just assumed it was nerves as he waited for his own.
It wasn’t until you finally met up in his backyard, running to plant a kiss that he didn’t fully give back, that you realized it was much, much deeper than that.
“What’s wrong?” you’d immediately asked, though a gnawing sensation in the depths of your gut made you feel certain you already knew.
Sometimes you hated being right.
“Babygirl,” he’d started, running a hand through his curls before looking into your eyes - his own holding a look that could only be described as heartfelt sorrow. He chewed on his lip rather than saying anything more, averting his gaze to an undefined spot in the grass.
Your heart sank. Chris only ever messed with his hair when he was tense. You knew instantly - this was serious.
“Chris, what is it?” you urged, the smile you’d worn upon first seeing him instantly dropping, “You’re scaring me.”
“I got in.”
It was a simple sentence, though there wasn’t a single tinge of celebratory joy involved. He said it like it was a death sentence, still refusing to meet your increasingly intense stare.
“What? Chris, that’s amazing! Why are you –” you’d been midway through congratulating him when his head shot back up, his now-watery eyes locking onto yours.
“I got into Yonsei.”
“I thought you were going to apply for–” he’d cut you off again, then - the initial sadness you’d seen in his eyes only intensifying.
“Baby, I did. I didn’t make it,” his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, tonguing his cheek.
Your heart froze then at the dots connected themselves in your mind. You scrambled for something - anything - that could convince him that this was okay. That the two of you could handle being apart. That this could just be a roadblock, not the end.
Regardless of how hard you tried to come up with the words you’d needed to comfort him, to assure him that it was all going to be okay, there was nothing.
You sat there with him, dumbfounded and quiet for a while. Neither of you wanted to break the tension, but your lips still parted to make way for the hardest question you’d ever had to ask.
“Chris, are you leaving me?”
He didn’t say a word, his eyes simply welling with tears.
Sometimes, it seemed, silence was very, very loud.
Your throat began to tighten, breaths coming in shorter and shorter gasps as you stared at him - looking for any sign that this was all some shitty, cruel joke that he somehow found amusing. His stone-faced demeanor, however, did not change.
Of course, he wasn’t kidding.
Chris had never been the type to joke like that. To hurt you for amusement.
“Don’t you love me?” you stammered out, stifling a sob.
He finally looked up then, pooling tears in his eyes only serving to make his shocked expression look completely terrified.
“Of course I do,” he breathed, his voice breaking as he ran his hand through his messy curls.
“Then don’t do this,” you begged, barely audible after being blindsided - by his news, by the possibility of losing him.
He didn’t speak then - nor did he have to. Lower lip trembling, eyes still fixated on you as he stood from his spot. You could see all you needed to written on his face - this was it. It was over.
Wordlessly, he’d leaned down and pressed a prolonged kiss to the top of your head. As he pulled back, eyes downcast as he simply stood at your side, you fought to maintain any semblance of composure. It wasn’t until he finally turned around, retreating back inside of his home, that your legs moved on your behalf to bring your shell-shocked frame through your front door.
Mother wasn’t home - which, now that you thought about it, was probably for the best - leaving you to your own devices as grief threatened to swallow you whole. You cried for a long while, clutching your pillow against your chest as though it could somehow soften the hammering of your heart.
Now, glancing at the neglected cover of that yearbook, you felt just as small and broken as you did that night - when you’d finally stopped crying and flipped through its pages last. You were sure there were tearstains on the page you’d stopped on, despite not having revisited it throughout these years.
The page where the two of you, clad in your prom attire, were dancing behind the perfectly posed King and Queen. Despite not being the subject matter, it had quickly become your favorite photo - bright smiles as you swayed clumsily in each other’s arms radiating joy.
Radiating love.
You forcefully shook yourself from these recollections, pushing them back in the name of keeping your sanity as you laid flat on the bed. Turning your back to the yearbook, you pulled the blanket over your body and shut your eyes to get a good night’s rest for Christmas.
You were going to need it.
The air smelled of honeyed ham and spiced fruits when you'd opened your eyes the next morning.
You were watching your mother scuttle about the kitchen, humming her favorite carols whilst juggling three separate dishes, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching upwards. Cocoa in hand, tree sparkling with multicolored lights, you finally felt it.
This was Christmas. This was home.
Your mood couldn’t be dampened by anything, not even the painful memories you’d recalled the night prior. So, of course, you readily agreed when your mother asked you to run to the grocery store - just as was typical of her during the holiday fuss, there were a few things she’d forgotten to grab.
After bundling up, the walk itself was a quick trip, save for a brief conversation after the cashier recognized you from your youth. The chilled breeze didn’t bother you as it nipped at your cheeks. It, alongside a few stray snowflakes dancing around in the air, simply served to bring you peace.
Because this was Christmas. This was home.
You arrived back home, kicking the door with the toe of your boot in lieu of knocking. You tightened your grip on the handles of the bags, exhaling a held breath in a puff of steam whilst waiting for that bright red door to open.
As it did, warmth and the aromas of dinner tickled your senses, “They were out of–,” you were cut off by what felt like a punch in the gut. You forgot the remainder of your sentence, jaw dropping as your words caught in your throat - an ineloquent squeak leaving your parted lips as you stared ahead.
There wasn’t much point in continuing what you were going to say, had the thought not been shocked out of you, considering that the face you were met with wasn’t your mother.
Christopher Bang - though looking much more grown up and mature than he had upon your last meeting - was standing in the entryway of your family home, staring at you as if he’d seen a ghost.
Much like your last encounter, neither of you spoke, opting instead to gawk at the other - blinking rapidly. You’d considered what you’d say to him, had the chance ever arisen. Much like the sentence you’d begun, however, it too had been erased from your mind the moment your eyes met his.
Once again, silence was very, very loud.
Based upon the unsteady tremble you could see interrupting the rise and fall of his shoulders - far broader than they’d been before - as he breathed, perhaps Chris was feeling precisely the same way.
He looked very much the same, Chris…yet somehow completely different.
His messy curls had been cut shorter, pushed back out of his face in a much sleeker look than you’d remembered. He’d learned to take care of them, you noticed, as he ran his hand through now-defined ringlets - just as he’d always done whilst nervous. His eyes, though wide with astonishment, were still warm and trustworthy. Perhaps even more than they had been before, with the beginnings of smile lines at their sides he’d earned throughout the years.
His clenched jaw was stronger, more defined, as he parted his lips in an attempt to speak. Those lips, the very same ones you’d felt against your own countless times, were still just as perfect as they had been. Rounded and pink, open just enough for you to see the tips of his teeth behind them.
“Get in here, honey! You’re letting in the chill!” your mother scolded from the kitchen, peering through the doorway. She seemed completely ignorant to the palpable tension between the two of you, acting just as she would had your world not been flipped upside-down.
God, how you wished you could be as clueless as she was right now - staring into the chocolatey pools of Christopher’s eyes, catching the very moment he came back down to earth. He stepped aside then, turning his attention to the floor as you crossed the threshold.
The delicious scents in the air no longer felt comforting, smothering you as your throat tightened. Despite speeding past Chris, you still managed to catch a whiff of the same cologne he’d worn while you were together.
The same one you’d bought him, though certainly a new bottle.
You swallowed hard as you beelined for the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter before mumbling something akin to, “No problem,” as your mother broke her conversation with Mrs. Bang to thank you.
There wasn’t a single thought in your mind that wasn’t screaming at you to run away. Screaming at you to distance yourself as much as possible. Screaming at you to go and collect yourself before dinner, to collect yourself enough to plaster on a smile until the Bang’s went home.
It was impossible to ignore. It was so very loud.
Following your instincts, you darted up the stairs. A breath you didn’t know you were holding shuddered out as you stepped into your bedroom - closing the door just as an uncomfortable heat pricked at your eyes.
You cursed under your breath as you swiped furiously at the sudden onslaught of tears, hoping that it wouldn’t be too noticeable to the matriarchs when you’d eventually have to show yourself.
Why was he here? Why couldn’t he have just not made it like he hadn’t for three years? Why now, after all of this time, had he made it home?
It felt unfair, like some sort of cosmic joke. It felt surreal, like a horrible dream. It felt sharp, like a brand being seared into your chest.
And damn, did it hurt.
For the second time in your life you found yourself with your back against your headboard, pillow clutched to your chest, crying over Christopher.
A knock on your door pulled you from your wallowing, rushing you into wiping your eyes.
“Yeah?” you called, praying you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt.
Considering you hadn’t been keeping track of time during the outpouring of emotion, you figured it was your mother, letting you know dinner was ready.
So, when you heard your name called in a silky, baritone voice, you instantly froze.
“Can I come in?” Chris sounded so gentle when he asked, so warm. You could sense a certain caution in his tone, as though he’d break you if he spoke too loudly. Your prolonged silence didn’t go unnoticed, as an even smaller, “Please?” met your ears.
You considered saying nothing - God, did you want to just sit there quietly and hope he gave up.
But something about how the word had left his lips felt sacrilegious to ignore.
You shuffled to the door, pulling it open slowly. You could feel his eyes boring into you, certain he was wearing that same look of wistful sadness from that day - the day it ended - without even looking. You met his eyes as you stepped aside, proving your suspicions true.
Chris gave you a nod of thanks as he joined you in the room, still watching you with concern as you slowly shut the door before sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t follow you, remaining standing by the closed door.
Once it became obvious that you weren’t going to fill the quiet first, he tentatively spoke. It was laughable how casual his choice of words were - or, it would’ve been had you not felt so overwhelmed.
“Hey.”
You simply looked at him, chewing on your lower lip. Words, even had you wanted any, wouldn’t have come to you in this moment. Not even the deepest corners of your imagination could’ve prepared you for seeing Christopher again.
“So,” he started again, sighing deeply, “Your mom says you’re moving back?”
Small talk had never really been his forte. He sounded awkward, almost forced behind the calm exterior.
You nodded in response, leading him to continue. “So am I,” he started, running slender fingers through his dark hair. Something was on his mind, it was obvious in the way his eyes were clouded. He wasn’t saying everything he wanted to. Even after all this time, you could tell.
You could always tell.
You found your voice, though it was shaky and roughened with emotion, “What is it Chris?” You hadn’t meant to sound as short with him as you had, noticing his shoulders stiffen a bit at your tone.
“We’ll be seeing each other around, y’know?” he started, still messing about with his curls, “We’ll have to be able to handle that.”
He was right. You might not want to admit it - especially right now, to his face - but he was right. You looked away, taking a deep and unsteady breath.
“I know you don’t want to see me,” Chris carried on, sounding smaller and smaller the longer he spoke, “And I get that, I really do. I mean, I’d hate me, too if –”
“I don’t hate you,” you cut him off, looking back up to meet his eyes. He looked perplexed, brows furrowing together at your sudden proclamation.
“You don’t?”
“I wanted to, trust me,” a humorless laugh accompanied your words, “It would be so much easier to hate you, Christopher.”
Your name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper, laced with pain as he slowly made his way towards you. He gave you every opportunity to tell him to get back, precise and patient steps approaching your bedside. You felt the bed sink next to you as he joined you, a softness in his eyes as they met yours.
“Then…why didn’t you ever reach out?” he murmured, visibly confused, “I tried to call you a few times. I stopped when you never answered.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you left me, Chris,” you reminded him, frowning, “I was hurt.” The guilt eating away at you brought anger to your tone.
You were right, he’d been the one to break things off. Why should you feel bad for not answering his calls?
Christopher’s features fell as he hung his head - it seemed that he knew you were right, too. He wore his shame plainly, from his hunched shoulders to the remorse in his eyes when he finally looked back at you.
“I didn’t forget,” he whispered thickly, his stare feeling like it made it’s way completely through to your soul, “How could I? It’s my biggest regret.”
You were speechless. Had you heard him correctly? The whooshing of your quickened pulse echoing in your ears was making you feel dizzy as you gaped at him, trying to process the gravity of what he’d just said.
“I was scared,” he admitted to you, still looking at you just as tenderly despite what must’ve been a wild expression on your face, “I was a scared and stupid kid, who’d just found out he couldn’t go to college with his girlfriend.”
“Scared of what?” you breathed out, brows knitting together as you tried to process all of this new information about your breakup. He hadn’t told you why, before. You hadn’t asked, either, though.
“Of the distance being too much,” Chris took a deep breath, “and you leaving me first,” he admitted earnestly, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes became glassy.
“Chris…”
“You were the best thing in my life,” he continued, despite your attempt to cut him off, “Since we’ve been apart, nothing has felt right. Even good moments are just–”
“Incomplete?” You finished for him, knowing the feeling he was describing perfectly.
He nodded, a dimple appearing in his cheek as he gave you a half-smile, “Exactly, yeah,” he ran his slender digits through his ringlets again, biting his lip as he looked away.
“What is it?” you prompted, immediately recognizing his mannerisms once more.
“I miss you,” he blurted, his cheeks suddenly matching the pink of his lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut tight, as if he were completely terrified. Your heart melted at the sight, though you held your tongue to allow him time to continue.
“I miss you, and I know it’s my own fault,” he sniffled between his words, finally looking at you - eyes brimming with tears, “but God that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about you for four years.”
“Chris–” you began, only to be spoken over.
“I know it’s not fair to you that I’m saying this, and I know that it’s absolutely crazy of me to think you’d even consider me an option anymore,” he continued to ramble, breezing straight past your attempt to cut him off.
“Christopher–” despite your attempt, the words just kept bubbling forth from his lips.
“I mean, how could I expect you to want anything at all to do with me? That’s stupid, I’m–”
“Chris!” He stopped then, flushing an even darker shade at the realization that he’d been monologuing.
“If missing you back is stupid, then I guess I’m an idiot.”
Christopher’s eyes widened as your words registered, his lips parting in surprise before blooming into a full, beautiful smile.
Your expression mirrored his, slowly morphing into a hopeful grin as he leaned in closer, placing a gentle hand against your flushed cheek.
“Wanna be idiots together, then, babygirl?” he breathed, warm breath delightfully tickling your skin as he drew even nearer.
In lieu of an answer, you closed the minute distance between your faces, crashing your lips desperately onto his.
It was as if you’d never been apart, lips instinctually moving against each other in a beautiful and familiar dance. There was nothing but Chris at that moment - the scent of dinner gone, replaced simply by his cologne. His presence that you’d once dreaded had led you into contentment - his fingers trailing through your hair this time.
This was home. This was Christmas.
You’d have been content to never break that kiss, to perpetuate that moment for the rest of your life, had a soft knock at the door not interrupted.
“Dinner’s ready!” your mother sang from outside, the sound of her footsteps slowly trailing away.
You smiled gently at Chris’ hand suddenly engulfing yours, standing first to help you to your feet. He didn’t let go, his fingers still able to lace so naturally with yours, as the two of you made your way to the dining room.
Christopher sat at your side, casting you fond looks through the meal’s entirety. You stole glances at him whenever you could, as if trying to re-memorize his age-refined features. He’d catch you on occasion, smirking before shooting you a wink. Your face would flush, sudden shyness forcing you to look away - though you couldn’t help but keep studying him as soon as your cheeks cooled off.
You were so enraptured in each other that you didn’t notice the pair of satisfied smirks your mothers shared from across the table - so enamored that you didn’t notice their purposeful exclusion of the two of you from conversation, allowing you to continue your nonverbal exchange of affection uninterrupted.
You helped Christopher gather up the dishes, unable to contain your own smile as Chris graced you with a bright, dimpled one of his own - following your mother to the kitchen to help her clean up.
From the moment you’d left your bedroom, the two of you hadn’t exchanged a single word.
You didn’t need to, though.
Sometimes silence is very, very loud.
Sometimes, silence screams I love you.
stay for the night
genre: fluff
rindou haitani x gn!reader
the sky begins to darken as the moon slowly begins to rise, yet you stayed underneath the blanket fort you had built with rindou in his living room right in front of his tv. rindou pulls you closer into his embrace, humming softly as the both of you continue to watch the movie that's playing on the screen.
averting his attention to your face, he runs his fingers through your hair and places a gentle kiss against your temple.
sighing softly in contentment, you nuzzle his chest, wanting to melt into his embrace; his warmth making you feel safe. you feel his chin resting atop your head and start to softly draw shapes on his back.
“it's late,” you mutter softly–a bit timid, as if you’re terrified of ruining the comfortable silence that the both of you had fallen into.
“stay for the night,” rindou mumbles, moving his head to nuzzle his face into your neck. contemplating the offer, you chew on your lower lip, fiddling with the necklace he had gifted to you on your second date.
“only if i can wear your favorite hoodie." you look at him, eyes sparkling in happiness.
"the white one that's really big with bellflowers on it?” he chuckles, brushing your bangs away from your eyes, squishing your cheeks gently.
“of course, my angel. whenever you want, always.”
thank you for reading! reblogs/comments are appreciated ♡
bf texts with scoups!
character: choi seungcheol
note: here come the KING of gift giving and act of service! i need him in my life fr..
simu liu used to model for stock images and now he’s using them as reaction pics- THIS MAN IS TRULY SOMETHING ELSE I LOVE HIM
You know the teacher everyone had a crush on? It was Lupin for Hogwarts. Girls, boys, everyone in between and everyone outside of the in between. Every. Single. Student. simped for Professor Lupin. He came back for the Battle of Hogwarts and suddenly all of the NEW students also simped for him. Even Percy Weasley wanted him.
Everyone wanted him when he was a student, and everyone wanted him when he was a teacher. And the best part? He never slept with any of his students. Hell, he didn't even realize everyone was in love with him until Pomfrey and Minnie pointed it out, and by then it was almost the end of the year.
You know the hypothetical of 'What if you were in a room with every person who ever masturbated to you'? For Remus, we'd need three football stadiums. Anyone who saw him fell for him.
IDFK man I just like Casanova!Remus. And concerned Poppy and Minnie. Like, "Hey, kiddo, you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep fucking any dude in your age group"
And he's like "DILLIGAF"
The way he gave us a hug and said goodnight sweet dreams🥰 i love his lives always making stays feels special❤️
The way he gave us a hug and said goodnight sweet dreams🥰 i love his lives always making stays feels special❤️
~ p r e t t y b o y ~
(210416 | music bank) taemin ⟡ atlantis
bonus: ending fairy
