#boyhood crush

[batteredshoes]

Farewell, Raquel (Born Jo Raquel Tejada, September 5, 1940)

[chernobog13]

Holy smokes! I never thought I'd see the day when I had the hots for Robin!

Jill St. John as Molly, one of the Riddler's molls, in the first two episodes of the Batman TV series, Hi Diddle Diddle and Smack in the Middle.

[epically-epic-epicosity]

[sockeyesoren]

Who let the dogs out

[sewerh3x]

Boyhood

[if-you-see-me-run-away]

A girl is willingly giving me her attention and my mind can't take it

[alexgconnoisseur]

how i look listening to Think Of Me Once In A While, Take Care in class

[cold--carnage]

there's a lot of Gerard Way on the fyp and Ben is like wait hold on stop enjoying that

[fleursforfall]

An Aesthetic : Country Roads by John Denver, Brokeback Mountain, Welton High School 1989, when Richard Siken said "The lawn drowned, the sky on fire, the gold light falling backward through the glass of every room. I’ll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger", watching Into The Wild in a cozy comforter and having warm coffee, reading Hardy Boys as a child, Sufjan Stevens discography, scraped knees from bike accidents, growing pains, first ever cigarette, the quiet panic at the back of your head about letting life slip out of your hands, the look on her face when you kissed her for the first time, Boyhood (2014).

[crazyyynnn456]

🐰

Bnuuy :)

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 1 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which you have a fat crush on your brother’s best friend, without getting much success. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my first work here but anyways i hope you guys like it ! maybe I'll do a part 2...

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Mason was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little —huge— crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Ben Chilwell, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn’t help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time. Your cheeks were red after Mason approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Mason Mount had on people, especially you.

Mason was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Mount family moved next to your house, a loud and proud British family— Debbie and Tony, Stacey, Lewis and Mason. The day after they had moved in, Debbie and Tony turned up outside your door, asking if your older brother was interested in playing football with Mason.

It didn’t take long for your brother to become close to Mason, both at the cusp of boyhood. Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Mason training, to spending most afternoons around the Mount house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Mason’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

—Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring! —Mason exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Mason's mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Mounts at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Mason tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

—Hold on to me! —Mason exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

—Mase, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me! —you apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression. —Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying.

—Thanks for trying! —you laughed, shyly. When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. —Sorry, I…

Debbie looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Mason scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

Debbie would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Mason. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

—Where is the lover boy anyway? —Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

—I'll go look for him.

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge. Enormous windows covered the entire house. From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you. She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

—Baby, relax. —You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

—Come on, I didn't even do anything—

—She was on your lap.

—It's not that serious, okay?—

—It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! —You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

—Let go of me, you're hurting me. —That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

—Let her go, mate. —Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

—Oh yeah?… and what are you going to do about it, Mount? —That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip. Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Mason shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

—Let's go to the car. —Said Mason, you nodding your head. —Get in the car. —He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Mase, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Mason's eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

Mason finally spoke. —You really don't know how to choose them, don’t you? — You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Mase rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

—I got them! —You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Mason in the eye for the first time since the party.

—Thank you. —Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend’s sister.

—It's no big deal. —

—No… really thank you, Mason. —you smiled and Mason listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Mason and not Mase.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

—Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah? —he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

[chernobog13]

Here's a nice photo of Kumi Mizuno:

Why? Because Kumi Mizuno!

[epically-epic-epicosity]

[2demondogs]

Arthur/Painter Reader Headcanons

A/N: Gender neutral reader! If y'all have any requests for different kinds of readers I'd fw it, these were entertaining to come up with.

You'd hardly call yourself Arthur's senior in anything, but he seems to think you know more than he does about art. Mostly, it's that you've got a more academic vocabulary for it; which you've been gathering in recent years from strangers with easels and sketchbooks broken out in the streets of whatever city you're riding through.

You taught him to make paints after he saw you struggling to crush up rock chunks for pigmented powders. Arthur saw the need for a strong arm and wanted to help, but didn't know what the hell you were doing.

Since then, he will present you with anything for pigments. It pains you to see disappointment slink over his face when you have to say you can't use what he's found - so sometimes, you act as though whatever he's got in his hands is exactly what you needed. Less often, he will gift you new paint sets from town, both bought and stolen.

More than once, you've had the keen sensation of holes being burned into your general surroundings, only to glance over your shoulder at him standing there... ominously. According to Hosea, this awkward looming over points of interest is a habit he's had since boyhood. And he is very interested, in both you and your paintings.

Arthur is no stranger to hearing better than I could do from the rest of the gang. He has given up showing his art to anyone besides Hosea - and you. You give him real feedback, that he never has to poke and prod you for. As eagerly nervous as he is about showing you his "silly" drawings, your thoughtfulness makes him feel like he finally has a skill that isn't hazardous to anyone's health. You tell him often that he's a great artist because he truly looks at life, and you swear he squints away something besides the sun every time.

Quality time is a large portion of your relationship. Arthur likes the quiet moments between you best, whether you're curled together and resting notebooks and canvases on one another's chests or simply on the same river bank, one drawing and the other fishing.

[reminiscences2]

𐙚 -oneshot?

pairing: e-1610!miles morales x fem!reader

genre: boyhood, crushes, suggestive

summary: miles figures out his feeling for you with ganke.

ೃ⁀➷

a/n: randomly came to mind, idk.

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"so you're a hundred percent sure it's not a crush? i'm pretty sure jay's plotting on her." ganke teased, laying himself on the floor.

they were having one of their late-night talks, which were rare because of how often miles had to prioritize his spiderman duties. they were both laid on the floor, admiring the ceiling in their pjs.

"dude, i dunno. i mean, i get nervous when i see her, but technically i get nervous around everyone i don't know." miles rambles, gesturing his hands around as he talks.

"you didn't get nervous around me!" ganke poked.

miles turns and narrows his eyes at him playfully. "yes, i did! i was awkward as hell." he cringes internally, remembering how embarrassing he was a year ago.

"that's a different kind of nervous, miles," ganke scoffs.

"how are you so sure?"

"well, i've used this technique for the past 2 years right?"

miles quiets down to listen, wondering whether he's teasing or helping.

"if you don't know if its a genuine crush.. first picture somebody you find completely unattractive, right? a real eyesore."

"that sounds targetted."

"hey, focus!" ganke laughed, hurling a pillow towards miles.

"okay, okay!"

since he recently had frequent run-ins with the same villain in the past month, so much so that his face started to appear in his dreams, that was the first person to come to mind.

the villain was abnormally blown up, with distorted body features all over. he almost felt bad for how uncomfortable their normal posture felt. technically, did they even count? they didn't look human.

nonetheless, he refocused.

"now, imagine that person, on top of you. how does that make you feel?" ganke took on a faux professional voice.

"threatened and disgusted. no offense to the .. person i'm thinking of, of course." miles blurted out in a deadpan tone.

ganke burst out in laughter, covering his mouth to avoid attracting attention to people outside the dorms.

"miles, saying no offense at the end of that sentence does nothin' to help you." he scoffed, turning to look at him. "jus tryna be polite." miles muttered, chuckling.

ganke shuffles back to his original position.

"okay, now that you have those feelings and that picture set aside.. picture her." ganke started, trying to not sound cheeky as he tried peeking at miles's reaction.

as miles closed his eyes and settled into his imagination, a few images of [y/n] in different places he bumped into her at school pop in and out. a slight blush spreads across his face, but he keeps himself steady.

ganke narrowed his eyes at him, keeping his laughter in. "now.. imagine her on top of you."

miles's eyes shot open when he remembered the way the questioning was going. but that didn't stop his brain from generating a few provocative ideas of [y/n] on top of him, straddled on his lap.

wait, was that a bikini?

his face was now flushed, hotter than a volcano.

"ganke!" he yelped in embarrassment, launching a pillow straight to his face.

ganke burst into laughter, not able to hold it in anymore. "yep, definitely a crush!"

"that's not fair, i didn't know you were gonna do that!" miles groaned, tossing as many pillows as he could. probably with more strength than he was supposed to.

"you have a crush on [y/n] [l/n]!" ganke teased, cackling.

"shut up, man!"

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a/n: man I need ideas

[lycandrophile]

how can you claim to be a man when you never even grew up as a boy?

you were never raised a boy, you have no idea what it's like to grow up as a boy. you were raised as the female that you are.

by what standard did i not grow up as a boy? did i not get dirty enough or pull enough ponytails or play enough catch with my dad? is it that my hair was too long or that my clothes were too pink, or maybe that i was friends with too many girls or had crushes on too many other boys? should i have built with blocks instead of playing house, or liked dogs more than cats, or wanted to become a firefighter instead of a vet? if my grandpa gave me handshakes, not hugs, would that be better for you? if the tears bad been beaten out of me, would i get to be a man?

what of the men who grew up decades or even centuries ago, or somewhere across the world from you? surely, their boyhoods looked different than yours. have they lost their right to manhood too in your eyes, because they didn’t grow up quite right? or is it just us that you expect to live up to one stereotypical concept of what it means to grow up as a boy?

and what if you were right? what if my childhood was girlhood after all? i’m a 22 year old man with a partner of 6 years and a job in the same field as my degree and an adult life that i’m building for myself. how much of myself can you really expect me to define by who i was when i was a child? i would hope you don’t define your life by the way you grew up either; maybe your childhood was good enough to be worth basing the rest of your life on, but that would make you one of the lucky ones. the rest of us will be defining our adult lives for ourselves, thank you very much.