schoolyard crush

Sasuke and Naruto’s reaction to Sakura being injured -


“Sakura… Point out the ones who pummeled you into that state”

Signifying that he did in fact, have an idea of what she had been through while protecting them by just looking at the state she was in(People who say he didn’t pay attention to her, leave now), Moreover he didn’t care about Lee who was lying unconscious and beaten up a few meters away nor did he care about Neji who was present and making his presence very much known and both of them Sasuke was interested in as rivals and one of them had even kicked his butt. But the only thing that registers in his mind is Sakura and how beaten up she was.

Let’s compare that to Naruto who was awoken by Shikamaru and Choji beating him in the head with a stick after he had a dream of Sakura being a damsel in distress so that he can look like the hero.


Sakura.. Your hair!!”

Lol never mind the fact that she’s wounded and beaten to a pulp and he solely worries about her hair.

“Ah I see” More like you’re not attractive anymore you bitch, you were supposed to be my trophy. And people say Sakura is the one with the “shallow”, “delusional crush”… More like Naruto.. 

Sasuke’s reaction to that: 

Pretty much knows what had transpired just by looking at her, plus he shares the same expression as Ino’s, Sakura’s best friend.  

Am I the only one who thinks that Kishimoto highlighted here that Sasuke was going to end up with Sakura in the future and Naruto’s was a schoolyard immature crush, especially with Sakura calming down Sasuke’s curse mark by hugging him and being the only one who could get through to him sealed the deal. And that even got the databook entry saying how her heart devoured the wicked power. Plus with all of the things that happened with Hinata and Naruto in the Chunin exams prelims right after this event, he highlighted Naruhina as well. 
I rest my case.  

On a side note - Sasuke’s here looking at Naruto wishing Naruto would just go back to sleep: lol

anonymous asked:

Hello! Can you do the Basorexia and Apodyopis prompts with Pietro Maximoff or Tony Stark please? Thank you in advance!

A/N: We couldn’t decide which to do so we did them both! I hope you enjoy!!

Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

Tony Stark x Reader

Although they may be a little over-extravagant, you actually enjoyed Tony’s parties - especially the annual New Year’s Eve ones. With everyone eager to wrap up the old year and start all over new, spirits seemed to naturally lift. Ladies dressed in their flashiest or classiest gowns, men sporting their custom fit suits; the energy in the tower was unbeatable.

After hours of laughing and dancing the night away with your friends and colleagues, everyone started to gather around the huge clock Tony had installed in the middle of the room to count down to the new year.

The guests started counting down from sixty seconds. As you stepped back and took a look around the floor, you saw couples stepping closer to each other, eager to share their first kiss of the new year with each other. You didn’t particularly have anyone special in your life - although that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone there tonight that you wanted to kiss. You spotted Tony over towards the left, closer to the clock, his eyes searching the room. You wanted desperately to walk over to him and confidently give him the best New Year’s kiss he’s ever experienced, but you weren’t that type. You were never the kind of person to take charge, you preferred to keep to yourself and just let things happen naturally.

Thirty seconds left and the room suddenly felt stuffy to you. With all of the shouting and the gathering of everyone and the realization that you had gone yet another year without being in a single romantic relationship, you found yourself heading towards the doors to the balcony, which was thankfully empty.

The cool night air enveloped you as you stepped out to the balcony. In a few strides you found yourself leaning your forearms against the glass divider, looking out over the city. The chants from inside grew louder as the countdown hit ten seconds. Pretty soon, fireworks would be seen over the skyline of the city, cheers will be heard from block to block throughout neighborhoods, greetings will be exchanged and smiles shared. New Years was truly one of the happiest celebrations.

Three… two… one… Happy New Year. It’s shouted and cheered and you couldn’t help but smile. As you predicted, fireworks began to decorate the sky in celebration of a new start. You watch the scene with a dreamy look in your eyes.

“You’ll catch a cold out here, you know.” An all too familiar voice brought you out of your trance. You spun around to see Tony standing at the doors, his hands in his pants pockets and a sly smile on his face.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, he started walking towards you, bowing his head. “I wondered where you were, I didn’t see you inside or anything. I was worried you had left.” He stopped in front of you and turned slightly towards the city, supporting himself against the glass.

“It got a little too crowded for me.” You admitted, shrugging a bit. Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off of you. “You missed the big New Year’s kiss.” He said nonchalantly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Nobody wants to kiss me.” You shook your head as if it was crazy that someone would have even had a thought about kissing you, but you felt a pang of sadness at the realization that it was true.

“What if I want to kiss you?” There was no hesitation in Tony’s response. Your head snapped up to look at him in surprise. Did he really just say what you think he said? Tony still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He was searching your face, looking for any kind of sign that you felt the same way as he did.

You weren’t sure what had sparked it - perhaps it was the way Tony’s soft, brown eyes were looking over you, or the fact that you had honestly been dreaming about a scenario like this with Tony for a very long time - but a wave of confidence washed over you, and you took a step closer to him.

The surprise on Tony’s face was evident, but he quickly tried to hide it. The sudden closeness between you two was electrifying. You felt yourself already leaning up on your toes. “Then kiss me.” You whispered.

Without missing a beat, Tony wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his eager lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet and honestly everything you had dreamed of. Bringing one hand to rest on his chest, you wrapped your other arm around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t think of a better way to start the New Year.

A/N: This got a little weird, sorry, the story went where it wanted to go, not my fault.

Apodyopsis – The act of mentally undressing someone.

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

She was so beautiful, it was driving him mad. He had never felt this way about anyone before, it was more than just a schoolyard crush, much more. Pietro was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, insatiable. But he never did anything about it, the pain of not being with her, dwarfed in comparison to the pain that would come if he lost her. If he acted on his feelings he would be risking their friendship. So he restrained himself, hoping that just being near her would be enough, but it wasn’t. He soon found himself craving her touch, caught himself memorizing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her nose, the smell of her shampoo. He was losing his mind. Every time she spoke, he could focus on nothing but her lips, how soft they looked, how they might feel against his.

Living in the same building was great at first, he got to see her every day, and could talk to her whenever he wanted. But after his feeling started to grow, he began to notice… things. Like how every morning she would come down in he pjs, which consisted of an oversized t-shirt that fell to her knees. Soon after, he began avoiding the kitchen all together, not being able to handle it. It was getting out of hand. He could hardly be in the same room as her anymore. Any time he closed his eyes, she was all he could think about. She made his heart beat fast, and his blood run hot.

One day, Steve called a team meeting, gathering everyone in the conference room. Pietro tried to pay attention to what was going on, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The dress you were wearing was modest, falling just above your knees while standing, the floral material matching well with your heels, the cut of the dress accenting your figure, while still remaining conservative. Despite this, when you took your seat, the dress rode up, showing your thigh. He couldn’t stop, he gripped the armrest of his chair, trying to focus on the papers Steve had handed out, but it was no good.

His eyes trailed up your body, wondering what it would be like to run his hands along it. As you shifted in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, his mind went wild, he pulled his lip between his teeth, trying once again to focus on what Steve was talking about. But once again, his mind began to wander. He wondered what it would feel like to be between those legs, to run his hands over them, to have them wrapped around him. His nails dug into the fabric of the armrest, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts like that. He closed his eyes trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of Steve’s voice dimmed, as he focused on his breathing.

What would it be like to take that dress off of you? Images flooded his mind, he could see himself leaning in close, wrapping his arms around you, slowly pulling the zipper of your dress down to the base of your back. The feeling of his hands gently pulling the material off of your shoulders, allowing it to fall, pooling at your feet. He could see your beautiful eyes, gazing up at him, sending chills down his spine, your hands flat on his chest as you stepped closer to him, his hands going to either side of your bare hips. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your delicate hands tracing up his chest and around his shoulders, your body pressing closer to his. His hands slid slowly down your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, trying to memorize it, praying to god this would never end. He suppressed a moan at the feeling of your lips on his neck, peppering it with kisses. One of your legs drifted up his side to wrap around his hip, he quickly cupped the back of your knee, hoisting you up to wrap both legs around his waist, wanting to be even closer you your body. The fire under his skin grew hotter every soft kiss you placed on his jaw, he wanted more, needed more, he would burn up otherwise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, biting his lip roughly.

“(Y/N)” he moaned breathlessly, your lips hot on his skin, traveling up his jaw, the feeling of your breath fanning over his ear sending another wave of shivers down his spine.

“Pietro…” he heard your voice whisper in his ear. “Pietro…” you repeated, but this time louder. You pulled away and looked down at him, your brows drawn together, a confused look distorting your face. “Pietro wake up!” the voice that came from your mouth wasn’t yours, it was deeper, more manly. “I said wake up!” Pietro stared confused.

“Wha-” a hand came down across his cheek, and suddenly your face was replaced by Steve’s very angry one. Pietro nearly jumped out of his skin yelling loudly, looking around disoriented. Steve took a step back, his hands on his hips, the irritation in his eyes impossible to miss. Everyone was looking at him, trying to hide their amused laughs behind their hands.

“Nice of you to join us Pietro.” Steve said “You just let me know if I start boring you again.” he snarked crossing his arms over his chest. Pietro straightened in his seat, blushing in embarrassment.

“N-no sir, I just dozed off for a moment. It won’t happen again…” Steve only sighed and walked back to the front of the room continuing the meeting. Pietro tried to hide his embarrassment, sinking lower in his seat, hiding his face behind the papers in front of him. But his eyes once again shifted to you. You looked back at him and smiled gently, giving him a small wave before returning your attention to Steve. He would never survive.


Originally posted by sefuns

did I say baek and yixing? i meant i was working on sehun fluff… lol to be real with you i forgot i wrote this. but here it is!! i hope you enjoy!! to the darling anon looking for my masterlist maybe try the link below?

Pairing: Sehun x Idol!Reader

Genre / Rating: Fluff / G

Word Count: 2.580k

Warnings: None :)


“I hate her.” Sehun stared at you as you performed your stage. “She’s absolutely insufferable.”

“Shut up Sehun. If you hate her so much, why do you keep talking about her? I’m tired of hearing about her. Just admit you like her and get over yourself." 

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anonymous asked:

What do you think about Magnus choosing the queen over Alec? I can't believe he would throw away their relationship like that. I thought he loved him.

Oh, there is just so much wrong here I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, Magnus didn’t choose the SQ over Alec. This isn’t middle school and they aren’t playing games with each other. Magnus chose what he felt was the best thing for his people. The Clave has repeatedly shown that they do not have the Downworlders best interest at heart. 

If anything, if we go by the assumption that Magnus is siding with the SQ, he chose the well-being of his people over his own happiness. He sacrificed his love for Alec so that his people may have a chance to live. If anything Magnus is a fucking hero so let’s get that straight.

Also if you honestly think Magnus love for Alec is so malleable you haven’t been paying attention. Magnus & Alec are a team. This is not some schoolyard crush, this is the real deal and I think they are going to surprise you all. 

[Y]ou didn’t have to make up anything there. You wanted to just remember it: the globe in the schoolyard crushed by a tractor; laundry that’s been hanging out on the balcony for a year and has turned black; abandoned military graves, the grass as tall as the soldier statue on it,  and on the automatic weapon of the statue, a bird’s nest. The door of a house has been broken down, everything has been looted, but the curtains are still pulled back. People have left, but their photographs are still in the houses, like their souls.

There was nothing unimportant, nothing too small. I wanted to remember everything exactly and in detail: the time of day when I saw this, the color of the sky, my own feelings. Does that make sense? Mankind had abandoned these places forever. And we were to experience this ‘forever.’ You can’t let go of a single tiny thing. The faces of the old farmers—they looked like icons. They were the ones who understood it least of all. They’d never left their yard, their land. They appeared on this earth, fell in love, raised bread with the sweat of their brow, continued their line. Waited for the grandchildren. And then, having lived this life, they left the land by going into the land, becoming the land. A Belarussian peasant hut! For us, city dwellers, the home is a machine for living in. For them it’s an entire world, the cosmos. So you’d drive through these empty villages, and you so want to meet a human being. The churches have been looted—you walk in and it smells of wax. You feel like praying.

—  Svetlana Alexievich, Voices from Chernobyl

Want: AU where Loki keeps shifting into Jotun form whenever he comes into contact with cold.

Loki and Thor are both on Midgard post-Avengers, with Thor heroing with the team and Loki occasionally popping in every other week just to be a dick and remind them that he’s totes still evil.

But then Loki starts noticing his little problem.

He’ll grab ice out of the freezer for a drink, and… his fingertips turn blue.

At first it goes away on it’s own after a few seconds, but then it takes longer and longer to disappear. Then his fingers simply stay blue, like his body has forgotten how to pretend to be Aesir. No matter what he does, he can’t shake the color off.

Loki remembers what Odin had said about finding him, how he picked him up and baby Loki shifted to Aesir form. So, Loki goes running to find Thor. Naturally, he gets into a big fight with the Avengers, but in the middle of the standard yelling and hitting AKA Loki and the Avengers bitching at each other, and Thor pleading with Loki to give up evil, Loki manages to touch Thor’s skin. When he does, his Jotun coloration goes away just as he’d hoped (and Loki is overjoyed and sort of lingers touching Thor to make sure it sticks and not at all because he secretly wants to enjoy a moment of just being able to caress Thor’s stubble). And everyone is wondering what’s with the awkward pause with Loki lovingly cupping Thor’s face in his hand?? and then Loki punches Thor in the dick and runs off as usual what a little shithead.

But it keeps getting worse. Loki makes the mistake of eating ice cream and his tongue turns blue. He’s stubborn and just tries to hide it, because he refuses to seek Thor out again. He tries to just keep his mouth shut for weeks and avoid the Avengers at all costs, but he can’t find any other way to fix it so finally Loki just grabs Thor and kisses him thoroughly (and Thor doesn’t even realize why this is happening so he’s just perplexed when Loki runs off yet again like a schoolyard crush.)

These little things keep happening, but Loki quickly learns how to avoid these accidents - he avoids cold and frozen things like the plague. Then one night, Loki keeps his windows open, but the temperature drops and in the morning it’s freezing cold and Loki is blue again. All. Over.

There’s not other solution. He has to sneak into Thor’s chambers, slip into bed with him, press himself all over Thor, skin to skin, to make the charm take. Now, of course, Thor realizes what is going on, and he wants to see Loki’s Jotun form, but Loki keeps kissing them and pressing against him and distracting him. They spend a night together and then Loki quietly sneaks away in the morning, swearing to himself that he’ll find a way to never need Thor’s touch again.

Unfortunately for Loki, it’s New York, and winter sets in. The temperatures plummet, and the first snowfall comes. Loki is screwed. He’s Jotun nearly 24/7 and he absolutely hates it. He can maintain an illusion for only so long before he ends up needing Thor’s assistance again. Finally he just gives in… it’s a good excuse, at least, to have Thor’s hands all over him, daily.

Thor, of course, is rather fond of Loki’s Jotun side and sad to see it go, but he’s happy to help if it makes Loki feel better about himself, and if it means he gets to touch Loki all over. He makes up his own game for it, called kiss away the blue. It’s played using only his mouth, and Loki might intentionally step outside into the snow several times a day just to insist that Thor do it all over again.

Void is showing. StilesxOC Smut.

Pairing: Stiles x OC
Rating: NSFW
Warning: Smut, smut, smut. Panic, Los
Words: 2,259.

A/N. Don’t be too harsh… K.

Emma laid in her bed. Staring at the ceiling. It had been 4 days now since Jackson made his stupid fucking joke that sent Stiles spiralling.. “Careful Stilinski… I think your Void is showing”. The pack had gotten rid of Void mere weeks ago, and I t seemed like Stiles had been still taking things hard. First of all he wasn’t spending time with Emma as much, and it seemed like he still wasn’t sleeping.

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How Youth is Depicted in Battle Royale

Well, I promised that once I had my essay written, I’d upload it, and it’s all finished! Now, before you read, I just want to clarify a few things:

  • This is an essay written for an English class in college, so I had to go with some pretty boring topics IMO. The three things I chose to concentrate on were: Young people’s attitude towards the government, how ordinary things intensify in survival scenarios, and (losing of) morality.
  • Because the essay was going to be penalized if I went over a certain number of words, I had to leave out a lot. Forgive me for my lack of insight into certain characters (“You should’ve done X as an example!”), but I honestly had to cut out a lot.
  • Please note it's highly unlikely that my tutors ever read BR, so naturally I left out details, or I had to explain some pretty obvious things. 

Warnings out of the way, enjoy reading!

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Wanna Bet?  || Tom Holland Imagine

 Hi Guys!  Sorry this is so crappy and it probably makes NO sense whatsoever because it was 1 AM when I wrote this so…enjoy?  I dunno why you guys put up with me.  I really enjoy your comments by the way, they make my day.  :) Xx Lots of love.  Emm.

 "Two more,“ Y/N shouted, her hands raised as targets for Tom’s wrapped fists. "And stop pulling your punches, you’ll only do more damage then good. I’m a big girl, I can take a hit.”

She was something else for sure. She was like deep dark waters, mysterious yet so intriguing. Her body was trained for anything. She has never backed down from a fight, nor would she ever.  So, when she was offered the job for training the Tom Holland for the role of Spiderman…she took it without hesitation.

Y/N’s particular skill was martial arts and boxing. She had been doing this since she could remember. Her father was a champion kick boxer and she was to follow in his steps when she graduated high school, and she did just that. Y/N had countless titles that adorned her. She was the world champion in her field.

The Russo Brothers were good friends with her father before she was born and had managed to get a hold of her to offer the position as Tom’s trainer. Tom, of course, was star struck. He had been following Y/N’s kick boxing career for quite some time, so when he was informed she was going to train him, he nearly lost it.

“I just don’t feel right hitting a g-” Tom was interrupted by Y/N’s leg knocking him off his feet. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him breathless on the mat.

Y/N lowers herself onto him, straddling his waist and pinning him down. She holds her forearm against his throat, just enough to make him uncomfortable.

“You were saying?” Y/N challenged, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Tom grunts, flicking her over onto her back. A small groan escapes her lips at the sudden impact.

“Forget it.” Tom grunts, adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins.

Y/N raised her legs and locked her knees around his ribs. In one swift practiced move she flicked him onto his back and had him pinned down once more. He did his best to escape her grasp, but failed miserably each time.

“We need to work on your agility,” Y/N noted, jumping to her feet and offering a hand to Tom. “You have the strength and the skill but you are far too stiff.”

“Stiff?” Tom retorted, taking short staggered breaths.

Y/N holds up her hands once more, causing Tom to returning to his punching stance and begin.

“When you were a dancer, you have to make your moves rigid and meaningful.” Y/N explained, pointing at his body. “You’re far too stiff. When you fight, you want to let your body feel each punch and flow into the next kick or combo. But also, on the opposite end of the spectrum, if you are too loose you could injure yourself if you are too careless. You have to find that happy medium between stiff and flexible.”

“How do I know when I’ve found it?” Tom pants, hitting her hands with a bit more force than previously.

“You’ll feel it.”


The weeks that followed were intense for both parties. Tom was used to being pushed to his limits and gladly accepted the challenge. Y/N pushed him harder than any other trainer he’s had and he noticed the improvements in his fighting techniques after each session together.

Today was different though. Today was their last day of training together. This was the day when Y/N would evaluate his status. Was he ready to move forward to the intense fight sequences in the movies or would he have to start over with a new trainer.

“You ready for this, Holland?” Y/N asks him, her eyes focused on wrapping her knuckles.

He desperately wanted to say yes but he couldn’t help dreading this day. The two had become so close. They spent countless hours together in the past weeks. Training had slowly turned into unofficial lunch dates and small tours around set. Y/N slowly worked her way into his every day thoughts. Every chance he got to speak with her, he would take it with no remorse. His feelings towards Y/N had gradually gone from schoolyard crush to something he couldn’t even recognise. The thought of losing the very thing he had come to cherish plagued him.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Tom shoots her a weak smile.

“Good,” Y/N smiles back. “I just wanted to tell you, Tom, you’ve come a long way and I’m very proud of you. I mean, from a boy that could barely throw a punch to a guy that can take me on, you’ve come a long way. Whatever the outcome, I’ll still be proud of you.”

“I’m still trying to understand whether the whole weak punch thing is a compliment or an insult.” Tom rebuts.

“You’ll never know, Holland.”

Y/N twists and turns, warming up her muscles for the fight to come. Tom watches, caught up in her calm collected aura. His attention is caught by her every move.

“You enjoying the view there, Holland?” Y/N smirks at him, quirking an eyebrow.

“Do you have a body of water? Because dam.” Tom winks before realising his mistake and wincing at his awkward pick up line.

Y/N raises an eyebrow clearly amused before letting a small chuckle escape her lips. “Using my own pickup lines against me, I have to admit, that’s a pretty impressive tactic.”

“What can I say, I had an amazing teacher.” Tom shoots her a cheeky smile.

“Oh, honey, I know.” Y/N flicks her hair over her shoulder and shoots him a wink.

“Hey, Y/N?” Tom pauses, catching her attention.

She hums for him to continue as she starts to warm up.

“Would you like to make things interesting and place a little bet on this fight?”

Y/N cocks a brow, clearly intrigued. “You’ve got me biting, Holland. Proceed.”

“If I win this fight, you have to go on a proper date with me,” Tom begins, his voice confident and strong.

“And if you lose?” Y/N crosses her arms, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“I’ll let you wear the suit.”

Y/N’s smile widens, shooting Tom a breathtaking grin. “Well, then, Holland, I believe you’ve got yourself a deal. Oh, and before I forget…”

Tom pauses mid-stretch to let her finish her sentence.

“Are you an ox? Because you’re a very buf-falo.”


“Well, I must say I’m impressed, Holland.” Y/N pants out, her breath stolen from the intense fight the two had just finished.

“Not so bad yourself, Y/N,” Tom compliments, running a hand through his damp hair.

“So, about that bet,” Y/N begins, collecting her things and starting for the door. “I’ll be over tonight to collect.”

“Wait!” Tom calls after her. “But it was a tie!”

“Exactly, Tom,” She glances over her shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips. “I’ll be over at 8.”

I Love You, Too

Jean loves Mikasa. That’s an undeniable fact that Jean doesn’t even bother hiding anymore. Not from Connie when he inevitably found out about their secret meetings after the lights had gone out. (Why else would a guy come sneaking back to bed, sweaty and out of breath and starry eyed, well past two in the morning?) Not from Sasha when Connie proved for the millionth time that he couldn’t keep his big mouth shut. (Which earned both of them several swift smacks to the head, while they both apologized profusely and swore complete secrecy from then on.) Certainly not from himself when the realization, sudden and out of nowhere, hit him like a ton of bricks, sucking the wind from him like a vacuum. The one person he’s fought tooth and nail to keep in the dark, ironically, is Mikasa herself.

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anonymous asked:

Trans (ftm) Jay telling his crush, being scared to do so, that he's trans? ♡

i wrote him as robin?? bc he’s a cute little bean Just Wait (still using ‘they/them’ for the reader bc i don’t want to assume pronouns, but jason uses he/him!)

Alfred’s the one to call him out on his sappy behavior, the fact that he keeps knotting his fingers together and smiling. He’s doing his homework at the table and he’s careless and scribbling away at basic algebra when Alfred comes up behind him to serve him a PB&J and sees the margins of his paper. “Not too old yet for schoolyard crushes, young master Jason?” 

Jason freezes, his breath caught in his throat, and he covers the edge of his paper with his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his straight face falters, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling guiltily. His fingers hide doodles of your initials paired with his (some in big, gooey hearts), and he spreads them to hide them completely, looking away. 

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Jensen @JiBCon 7 Opening Ceremonies
  • Jensen: *sees Misha*
  • Brain: Quick, hide your Crush!
  • Jensen: Why?
  • Brain: YOU GOTTA!
  • Jensen: *Takes basket away*
  • Brain: Not like that, idiot! HIDE HIM! He looks so good! 😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥

Kate Reese, a 13-year-old living in Reno, Nevada, used to think there was something wrong with her.

“I began realizing I wasn’t necessarily straight when I was around 5 or 6,” Reese said. “I saw girls holding hands and thought, I could go for that. Girls were just more interesting.”

Reese may have gone quite a few more years thinking that the innocent schoolyard crushes she harbored were indications of her deviance. But she was able to seek the language to describe herself, and assuage her worries, in a way older LGBT people never could — she had the internet.

“Now I understand what ‘queer’ means, because all of the information is online,” said Reese, who privately started identifying herself as queer sometime in the fourth grade. “Now I understand LGBT terms, and that it’s not a choice. I thought something was wrong with me until I saw all this research. Now I know people like me are out there.”


Request by: Anonymous 

Pairing: Steve x Reader

a captain america imagine where reader is just recently dating Steve, and their first kiss is at stark’s party for Fourth of July?

Word Count: 1398

A/N: While difficult at first, I think I had the best time writing this one!

    You stood, admiring yourself in the floor length mirror. It wasn’t often that you were presented with an excuse to dress up, even a little bit. Sure, Stark loved to throw parties, but parties weren’t really your scene. This, however, was a sort of special party, one you felt required to attend. This was a party being held for the Fourth of July. And, when Captain America is your boyfriend, it’s only natural that you’d be attending the party for the Fourth of July. You’d probably be attending anyway, you just found it amusing. Another glance in the mirror. Your hand instinctively reached up to run through your (H/L) (H/C) hair, looking up and down yourself one last time. you had to admit, you looked pretty damn good.  This party was special for another reason besides the funny coincidence. This party would be the first where you’d be attending with a boyfriend in tow. you had only started dating Steve a few weeks ago, and even though you had been taking things rather slow, you couldn’t remember feeling happier in a  long, long time. From friends to partners, you and Steve had only gotten closer over the last two weeks, and it made your heart swell a bit just thinking about the blonde haired man you had the pleasure of calling yours. One last glance at yourself in the mirror as you retreated out of the room, hitting the light switch as the door swung closed behind you on the way out. 

    The party was just getting into full swing as you entered the room. the music was loud and a bit overbearing as you skimmed the room, looking for one person and one alone. Slightly disappointed when you didn’t find him at first glance, you didn’t allow yourself to become discouraged, bracing yourself to push your way through the crowd of people. However, that didn’t end up being necessary. A hand wrapped around your wrist, and you could feel the smile involuntarily growing on your face as you whipped around to meet its owner. 
    “Hey,” you breathed out, grinning as he smiled back at you.
    “Hey (Y/N),” he smiled, and your heart swelled a little bit. “You look lovely tonight.”
    “Thanks,” you smiled, looking down at the floor, but you could feel his eyes on you and it felt spectacular. 
    “Not a problem, beautiful,” he said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice as that wild blush spread across your cheeks, as it often did when he was around. You’d figured (hoped) that you’d stop blushing like a little girl with a schoolyard crush every time he was around once you were together, but unfortunately you’d had no such luck. Steve found it absolutely adorable though, one of the many things you’d do that he found adorable. Now it was Steve’s turn to blush, however it was less noticeable to the non-observant eye, as you squeezed his hand and led him to the bar.
   “One (Y/F/D),” you said to the bartender, pausing and turning to ask Steve what he wants.
   “Nothing, thanks,” he said, and you just shrugged and turned back to the bartender, waiting for your drink. You sat perched on top of one of the bar stools, and patted the empty one next to you with your free hand, gesturing for Steve to have a seat.  He happily complied, sitting and turning to you, watching you bring the glass filled to the brim carefully to your lips, taking a sip before carefully setting it down on the table. Or, that was your intention, until Steve stilled your hand, and slid a coaster under where you were about to rest your glass.Your smile grew a bit as you giggled, placing your glass down and turning to look at your blond super soldier. He was talking animatedly about something, and a small part of your subconscious felt guilty for tuning him out, but you were so caught up at watching the sparks of life and light dance in his blue eyes that you completely ignored that small part of you saying you should listen. A few strands of blond hair fell on his forehead, catching the lighting of the room, drawing your wandering eye. They bounced as he moved up and down, and you felt the undeniable urge to push them away from his face.
   “Hm?” he hummed in confusion as your hand lightly brushed across his forehead and back into his hair, pushing away those pesky strands.
   “Oh, sorry, you had some hair,” you muttered, pulled from your reverie. Nervously you reached for your drink. It was gonna be a long night. 

    Contrary to what you had believed 5 hours ago. the night had flown by. You had spent basically the entirety of the night bouncing from seat to seat with Steve, enveloped in one conversation after another. After a while, you broke the chain and asked Steve to dance, and however hesitant he was, he had an absolute blast, considering he hadn’t exactly danced since the forties and you were just about the worst dancer he had ever seen. Add that to the list of reasons why you were perfectly adorable to him. It was nearing 10:30 now, and you and Steve had retreated back to the bar. You watched his eyes stray from you to the cock, and then back to you, smile growing on his face. 
    “Follow me,” he grinned, wrapping his hand around yours and gently tugging you along. You came face to face with the elevator, and you turned to him confused. 
    “Where are you taking me?” you asked, but he remained quiet, just smiling, as you entered the elevator. 
    “F.R.I.D.A.Y, the roof please,” Steve grinned, and you just smiled, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as the elevator raced up the shaft. He dragged you out, and into the fresh air, and you took in a deep breathe as you looked out over the city lights.
    “I never actually considered the roof a good hangout spot,” you quipped, leaning on the railing for the lookout. 
    “It’s nice, and quite, and pretty, and it means we’re alone,” Steve said, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way over to you. 
    “Look, Steve! Fireworks!” you exclaimed, almost as excited as a little kid on Christmas. The colourful glow illuminated your face in the dark, more than just the city lights below.
    “You look so beautiful all excited like that,” Steve said, leaning closer to you , and turning to face you, grabbing your hand so he could spin you to face him. You felt that blush explode across your face again, and your eyes fell to the floor one more time. You felt two fingers under your chin, tipping it upwards. Your (Y/E/C) eyes locked with the pair of blue ones before you, and you could practically feel time slowing to a crawl around the two of you. 
    “(Y/N), I know we said we’d take this slow, but damn it I really want to kiss you. May I?” You could barely feel yourself nodding and desperately trying to elevate yourself as he leaned in, closing the gap between the two of you until your lips met. You would be hard pressed to find a word to do that absolutely incredible experience any from of justice, so you didn’t bother trying, You brought both arms up and around his neck, burying your hands in his hair and desperately trying to bring the two of you closer. He assisted you, arms circling your waits and pulling you flush against him. Even though you would have loved to stay exactly like that, together, for the rest of eternity, you could feel yourself running dangerously low on air, forcing you to pull away and practically gasp. Your chest heaving up and down, you smiled wide at your Captain, eager to kiss him again. But your attention was drawn by the explosions in the background, and as you turned to look, you could see more and more fireworks painting the night sky. It truly was breathtaking. You glanced up at Steve, noticing he had done the same, and you smiled.
    “Happy Fourth of July, darling,” he said, eyes still trained on the beautiful display.
    “You too, Captain,” you joked, turning back to him.    
    “Now, Soldier,” you pondered, “where were we?”  

color, brilliance, strangeness

aka ryan and jack go on a day trip up the coast
fake ah crew ryack, implied gents ot3
birthday fic for the wonderful light of my life seraphface
rating: m
on ao3

Later, they will sit on the hood of the Surano and exchange kisses that change in rolling waves, from heated and hungry with wandering hands to slow and searching with tangled legs and back again. He will kiss the salt from her neck and she will wonder why they don’t take advantage of living by the ocean more often.

Later, he will press a small white and purple shell into her palm with a teasing smile like a purposefully sappy pastiche of a summer romantic drama, like a joke that’s not a joke, like a boy presenting a schoolyard crush with a freshly-picked dandelion—there is a shyness to the gesture even after all these years and, Christ, Jack loves him, she does, she does—and she will close her fingers over it and tuck it safely into her pocket.

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The Copse

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The copse sat central in my old suburban town, an untouched spot of the old forests. Last remnant of America’s ancient wood. On maps, it was the dark core of a bruise, the town its paler rings. Oaks towering high as four homes stacked, a maze of roots and trunks, easy to be lost in. Leaves choked the sunlight from above, so even at high noon, that copse was a dark, black-green mire, the color of deep set grass stains. No grass grew, no flowers. Its smell was mulched dirt and sticky sweet sap.

It was a place for children to wonder at, to poke around clean cut edges, marvelling at where manicured lawns merged to shadowed, knotted dirt. It was a place for illicit rumors at barbecues; did you hear Susy and Paul went in there last night, some people have no shame. Lies, of course. Not even the adults liked to go in.

Children would play in it, but never for long. There were no breezes, no animals. Every murmur, step, breath, the silence took offense to. If we giggled during church, the priest would stare at us, brow low, so we knew we had done wrong; making noise in the copse was like that. Every oak glowering, scorning, but their heavy, solemn age was more imposing a threat. In there, I felt cold egg slime pour down my spine, the prickling sensation of being watched. I doubt I was the only one. No one, not ever, entered past dinner, not even on a triple dog dare.

The copse was forgotten when I entered middle school, overwhelmed by geometry, and crushes, and schoolyard gossips. Until, one day, I was called a coward for not asking out May. Stewing in frustration and hormones, I saw father’s axe. Chopping my name into one of those oaks would show them. Even Mary would be impressed.

The first whack chipped the bark, and jarred my bones. So, putting my arms into it, turning and heaving, I swung until a notch appeared. Could already feel the pinch of new blisters on my palm, and sweat beading, and a freezerburn coldness. Mid spring, sun high, and the cold was cutting through my shirt, biting my teeth. The oak was bleeding, wine red, thick and slow.

A ram, a boulder, something, barreled into my side, pushed me into the dirt inside the copse. The axe was kicked away. Stamping, crunching steps around me, straddling me, like a prancing horse, but there was no panting breath. I tried to turn over, raise my arms, kick it off, but as I lifted my head, a cold sharpness struck my cheek, left a burning trail to my lip.

Then it was gone, and I was alone in the cold, green darkness. Rising on shivering legs, every nerve tingling, adrenaline licked. There was nothing around but me, and the oak I had cut. Its bleeding had stopped.

Cheek stinging, axe lost, I left, shooting glances over my shoulder until the copse was gone. At home, mother went into a fit tending to the gash on my cheek, and trying to wash the red from my shirt. No one asked about the axe. Later, much later, on a cloudless day, I went back to find it. One tree, I think the same one, had a light red streak across it, like the scar on my cheek.

Used to wonder why no one had cut down that old copse; now, I prefer not to think about it.

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