bad boys brothers

let this man call his brother cute

*Mikey does an unflattering imitation of Pete*

Pete: I don’t sound like that!

*Patrick walks in*

Mikey: Patrick! Close your eyes and tell me who’s talking!

*Mikey makes a whining baby sound*

Patrick, with his eyes closed: Ugh, Pete bein’ a little bitch.

I cant stress enough how much i LOVE THESE THINGS ! As always creds to @langsty-mc-langstface they cranked this out just now and its blowing my mind

Give me Dean Winchester dressed in leather with a motherfucking cigarette hanging out of his mouth, lingering around a diner where is baby brother is inside helping a girl study oblivious to fact that she’s looking at him more than the book in front of them. Give me a pinning Dean and an oblivious Sam and all the angst that you can come up with.

busto and busto 2.0 are griffin and nick, post-finale. they’re put back in the game to await the next players, who are, of course, griffin and nick. the bustos were trying so hard to destroy the game in order to stop nick and griffin from playing, hoping to save them from going too far and ending up back in the void, to stop them from becoming another incarnation of griffin and nick trapped in


“Before I met you I never knew what is was like
to be able to look at someone
and smile for no reason.”

BONUS: I could watch him eat food all day.

Vital: Part One - Terra (A Yondu x Reader Fic): Chapter Twelve: Listen to the Music

-Click here for: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven

Rated M for language and future NSFW chapters (these will be marked as such).

You’re lying on the couch with your legs over Yondu’s lap, reading a book while he works on his arrow. He suddenly jerks under you, and you nearly drop your book in surprise. “Whoa, are you okay?”

He shakes his head as if to clear it, then turns to you with a wide smile. “I got it workin’!”

You sit up, drawing your legs under you to kneel by his side, peering over his shoulder at the weapon. “How do you know?”

He taps his implant with a finger. “Can feel it. What ya say we give it a test, huh?” He gets to his feet, and you follow him out onto the deck. 

“How does it work?”

Yondu holds the arrow in his open palm and sneaks a side glance at you with that shark’s grin. Then, he purses his lips and whistles. 

Your laugh gets stuck in your throat as the lights on the arrow glow red, and it rises into the air. The circuitry on Yondu’s fin runs the same color, flashing and moving steadily along its grooves. His whistle warbles intentionally, strong and steady. The arrow twirls, tipping end over end in the air before him. He glances at you again, then utters a sharp whistle through his teeth. The arrow flies away so fast that it’s just a streak of scarlet over the lake.

“Whoa!” you cry, leaning over the railing to watch. It’s so far gone now that it’s disappeared from sight. “That is amazing!” you say, unable to keep a grin from your face. “How do you know where it is?”

“I can see it,” he says, then grunts. “Well, it’s more like I can see echoes of what’s around it, up here,” he taps the side of his head. “The arrow is connected to m'implant, and the implant is connected to m'brain. The vibration of the arrow hits off stuff around it, givin’ me a picture.”

“Kind of like echolocation.”

“Yeah, kinda like that.“ 

"So where is it now?”

Yondu points to a bend at the far edge of the lake, where there’s a cluster of pine trees. “It’s jus’ hoverin’ over there, waitin’ fer me to whistle again.” He licks his lips and lets out, a low-pitched, winding note. A streak of red blows past the pine trees and out into open water. With a loud, upturned pitch, it does a loop and plunges into the water. 

“Lotta creatures down there,” he says. “Little ones. Oh, there’s a big one.”


“Ya want fish fer dinner?” he asks with a wink.

You laugh. “No thanks.”

He chuckles. “A'ight.” He whistles again, and the arrow bursts out of the waves, soaring into the sky like a firecracker. With a sly glance at you, Yondu does a series of gentler, quick notes. The arrow makes shapes in the air; a star, a planet with X-shaped rings, and lastly, a heart.

You smile at him, and intertwine your fingers with his. “You can be pretty sweet.”

He laughs and pulls you against his side. “I can be pretty dirty too,” he hisses in your ear.

You hide your face with one hand as you blush. “I have no doubt,” you laugh.

He kisses the top of your head. “Okay, let’s get this thing back in here.” He whistles loudly, the kind of pattern you’d use to call someone to you, and the arrow races back towards you both. You gasp a little but Yondu doesn’t flinch, so you swallow and stay by his side. He snatches the arrow in mid-air with a fist, and the circuitry on both the arrow and his fin fades away. He smiles down at you. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, with a quick kiss on his lips.

He twirls it in his fingers. "Well now this is workin’, it should'a sent a signal up to the Eclector and the Quadrant.“ 

Your smile falters, and you nod. "That’s good. I’m – I’m glad.” Turning away from him, you go back into the cabin. 

Yondu follows you with his eyes, heart sinking. There I go, ruinin’ the mood. He sighs. The signal’s out to the crew, it’s only a matter of time before they find me. Until then, I’m gonna have to make the most of my time with ya, darlin’. Sticking his arrow in his back pocket, he strides into the cabin after you.

As he walks in, he hears you running water and clanking pots in the kitchen. But you’ve got music playing, so he takes that as a good sign. It means you’re not angry, and not too sad either. Deciding you might just want some time to yourself for a minute, he settles down on the couch, tossing his arrow on the coffee table.

In the kitchen, you fill a pot with water for a pasta dinner and set it on the stove to boil. He’s going to leave. You know he’d have to, sooner or later. He can’t stay here. He wouldn’t be happy here. The thought makes your heart sink even lower, but you know it’s true. Yondu might be happy right now with you, but someone so wild and fearless as he is would start to die inside after a while without that adventure and danger he’s lived with for sixty-some years. You shake your head at yourself, and force yourself to smile. It’s not like they’re coming this second to get him. Enjoy it while it lasts. You rummage in the pantry for a jar of spaghetti sauce, humming along to the playlist you have going. The current song ends, and a new one begins.

If you want it to be good girl, get yourself a - bad boy 

Yondu’s head perks up, and he grins at the lyrics - then smiles even wider as he hears a gasp from the kitchen and your fast footsteps.

“Where’s my phone?” he hears you say to yourself. “Stupid song!”

“Ya lookin’ for this, darlin’?” Yondu asks, holding up your phone from where it sits on the coffee table. You poke your head into the room, and he wiggles it in his hand.

“Yeah, I just want to change the song,” you say. Your face is flushed a deep red.

If you really like it hot, find someone who hits the spot honey

Yondu grins and gets to his feet, phone in hand. “Mebbe I wanna listen.”

“No, come on.” You hold out your hand, but Yondu slips behind the couch, out of reach. “Hey! Give me that!”

If you want to get it done, you gotta get the one, the one who’s got it goin on

You chase him around the couch a couple times, then into the kitchen, where he holds it high above his head. You jump, trying to reach it, but your efforts are in vain. Now you’re both laughing, making it harder to stand up straight.

“Come on!” you pant, jumping again. “What do I have to do to get it back?”

“Hmm,” he gives you a villainous grin. “Dance fer it.”


“Dance to this song.”


“Ain’t gettin’ it back, then,” he says with a shrug, shifting it to his other hand as you try to reach it again. 

If you like it innovative, better get someone creative honey…and if you want it to be jammin’, gotta get somebody slammin’, baby….

Yondu’s laugh at the suggestive lyrics die in his throat as you swing and roll your hips, coming closer, running your hands down your chest, along your sides, down your thighs. You come up close to him, and slide your hands up his stomach, over his pectorals, and run one finger under his chin, tickling his beard. He swallows visibly, eyes dilated, and his arms lower to hold you.

“Thank you!” you cry, snatching the phone out of his hand.


You giggle and run out of the room, but he’s fast on your heels. You let out a playful shriek and dive out the deck door, pounding down the steps as fast as your feet can go. You can barely run, you’re laughing so hard. You reach the end of the stairs and jump into the sand. 

You only get a few steps before you feel his arms around your waist. “Gotcha!” he yells with a laugh. His momentum was too much though, and you both go tumbling down. He shifts at the last second so he’s on the bottom, and lands in the sand with a grunt.

You both laugh long and hard, and then as it dies away, you just stare at each other. Slipping the phone in your back pocket, you wrap your arms around him and cover his mouth with yours.

He hums in pleasure, his hands wandering over your body. He hooks his hands around your thighs, pressing you down closer against him. You feel an unmistakable hardness pressing into your lower belly, but you can’t deny it feels good. The resultant heat pooling between your legs is like fire. You let your hands wander underneath his shirt, caressing his muscles and scars. “Yondu…” you moan against his mouth.

He slips the band out of your hair and tangles his hand in your locks. “[y/n] ….” he groans back. He lifts his head to your neck, his tongue running along your jaw. You moan as he nips and sucks at your throat, leaving love bites and hickeys in the most visible places. You feel his hands sneak up the back of your shirt to caress your lower back and tease your ribcage. They travel lower, and he squeezes your butt through your jeans.

You giggle and reach around him to do the same.

A noise like a growl escapes him and he seizes your head to capture your lips again. You rest against him, relaxing as you concentrate on the feel of his mouth moving against yours. You lay there on top of him for several minutes, until the friction between your bodies is too much to bear.

You lift yourself off him, breathless. 

Yondu sits up, pulling you closer and adjusting your legs so you’re kneeling on either side of his lap. 

You take your fingers and trace the scars along the right side of his head, brush your knuckles against his beard, down his chin. You run you fingers over the circular scars at his throat and down the scars on his arms.

“What’re ya doin’, darlin’?” he asks quietly.

“Memorizing you,” you say tentatively, “So I never forget what you look like.” Your voice breaks slightly. As you raise your eyes to his, he takes your face in his hands, pulling you forward to meet his lips. It’s a gentle, deep and burning kiss, full of yearning.

“Somethin’ else to remember me by,” he whispers against your lips as you break apart. He combs his fingers through your hair and sighs. “I ain’t never gonna forget ya, baby.”

Tagged: @thewildomega @pitrymcbride @shinva @overwatchemporium @cinnamon-and-mey

A/N:  I don’t like the title of this chapter but couldn’t find anything better. Maybe “Don’t Forget About Me” by Simple Minds? If you have suggestions let me know ;-) Next chapter up soon!

anonymous asked:

from your last fic. bitty wanting to go to providence to surprise jack but he has no money and lots of homework. the team steps in. even tango helps and maybe for dibs.

And so it begins! I’m actually going to answer these prompts :D

Jam profits only go so far, Bitty realizes as he stares at his bank account. Holster had been on the whole team’s ass about learning to budget and being more responsible with money after catching the frogs spending a month’s paycheck to buy a Slip-N-Slide and fill it with cheap vodka for a kegster. Holster and Ransom had high-fived them, called Shitty to let him know that he could come play on it, and then sat Chowder, Dex, and Nursey down at the kitchen table and made them promise to never spend $1500 on alcohol again. Dex and Nursey had sheepishly started out filling out a budget spreadsheet that Ransom had drawn up, but Chowder pushed the paper back at the co-captains and looked at them incredulously.

“Why are we the only ones doing this?”

Holster and Ransom shared a glance. Holster tentatively spoke.

“Chow, it’s not like what you did wasn’t like..”

Ransom cut in.

“TOTALLY ‘swasome.”

Holster nodded gratefully at him.

“Yeah, totally! But also sorta illegal since you guys aren’t 21-“

“And we don’t know how you got $1500 of vodka smuggled into the Haus-“

“But like, none of that is responsible Chowder, so we want you guys to learn responsibility, little bros.”

Chowder laughed.

“Literally no one on this team is responsible with money except Lardo, and even she spends like, 90% of her money on art supplies.”

He pointed at the D-men, looking to Dex and Nursey for support.

“I mean, you and Ransom go on bro dates all the time, but neither of you guys have jobs. Holster, you bought Ransom a giant Costco bear for your ‘Friendiversary’ and he bought you a signed copy of the 30 Rock script. That stuff isn’t cheap! Whiskey and Tango needed a second car to carry all their stuff home when they went to the Nike outlet last month, and Ford’s been bragging about going to New York for Hamilton, and those tickets are $500 minimum, plus food and hotels. Jack has a multi-million-dollar contract but you know he probably still spends most of that on stuff for Bitty. But Bitty won’t ask Jack for anything and Jack has no concept of money, so Bitty’s the one who pays for all those trips to Providence, and his primary source of income is jam!”

Chowder huffed and sat back down. Holster looked at him, a little shell-shocked. Ransom, however, grinned and leaned across the table to give the frog a fist bump.

“Yknow what Chowder? You’re right. Team budget meeting, ASAP!”

So there Bitty was, staring at his bank account, facing the hard truth that he wasn’t going to be able to visit Jack this month without Jack paying for the train up, and he couldn’t ask Jack for money. He loved the flowers, the attention, the affection and adoration that Jack showed him, but Bitty couldn’t be someone’s kept thing, like one of the girls from back home who married young and never got a job or had any kind of independence. He couldn’t be that kind of burden on Jack, and he couldn’t be happy as a house-husband, with nothing to show for his life but a boy. That meant no Jack until Bitty could find the money himself, which sucked. Bitty put his head down on the table and groaned. He needed to call Jack and let him know he couldn’t come up.

Jack Zimmermann put down the phone and poured himself a glass of water. Bitty couldn’t come up, which meant there wouldn’t be anyone by his side for the team dinner Friday night except Tater. It meant he could probably give away the ticket he had reserved for Bitty, and let Marty know he wasn’t going to have a plus-one to his dinner party Sunday night. He could call off the florist who was going to fill his apartment with sunflowers that matched the blond of Bitty’s hair and the brown of his eyes, and he could let Snowy know that he would be available to wingman for him sometime after the game. Jack looked over to where his cell phone was sitting on the countertop. He had a lot of calls to make to get his weekend in order. Or, he could just skype Shitty and complain.

Now, B. Shitty Knight is a lot of things. He is a committed, intelligent law student. He is the captain of a coed hockey team in Boston. He is secretly engaged to the love of his life, Larissa Duan, and he is a straight, white man estranged from his wealthy family because they still refuse to call him anything but his deadname. However, he is first and foremost a very good friend, and a wannabe fixer, so as soon as Jack hung up on him over Skype, he called up Lardo. Lardo then grabbed Ransom and Holster by the proverbial ear and had them call a team meeting, where Ransom and Holster let the team know that they heard from Lardo, who heard from Shitty, who heard from Jack that Bitty couldn’t afford to go to Providence anymore. The cocaptains looked out at their team, and sighed.

“Listen guys, we’ve been reviewing the budgets you guys gave us, and Chowder’s right. We are all very bad with money. Extremely bad.”

The team nodded, shifting around uncomfortably. Holster took a deep breath and continued.

“But guys, Bitty does a lot for us. He cooks for us, he cleans up after us, and he totally kicks ass on the ice. And like, a lot of us take all that for granted, even though he’s the only reason that any of us got laid last kegster. Girls really dug the fact that we have curtains and shit-“

“And food that isn’t pizza rolls!” Chowder interrupted, as Dex and Whiskey nodded sagely. The rest of the team murmured in agreement. Holster grinned.

“Totally! That too! So I think we should all chip in and get him a plane ticket to Providence this weekend.”

One of the second-string guys started grumbling. Ransom snapped around and pointed at him.

“Hey! Icer! How many free pies have you eaten this week?”

Icer looked down at his Nike slides.


Ransom snorted.

“Yeah, you don’t have any room to talk. Listen guys, between the 20 of us? A plane ticket to Providence is like, fourteen bucks each.”

Nursey pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty at Holster. Chowder followed suit and Dex had fourteen one dollar bills exactly. The tadpoles had to be convinced that no major airlines would accept their Starbuck gift cards as valid legal tender, but then they ponied up as well. The rest of the team slowly put cash in front of the two defensemen. Ransom smiled back at them.

“Great job guys! Nursey, way to be a leader, you’re exempt from Sin Bin fines for the rest of the year.”

Nursey grinned and gave Dex a fist bump as they left the room. The rest of the team filed out behind them, Holster turned to Ransom as he counted the money on the floor.

“Man, Bitty’s gonna cry when we give this to him.”

Ransom took the bundles of money, organizing them into small piles of twenties.

“I vote we just buy him the ticket and drop him off at the airport.”

Holster nodded.

“Yeah, he’ll just spend it on fruit if we give him the cash. I’ll buy the ticket and deposit the cash tomorrow.”

Ransom checked his watch and startled.

“Oh shit Holtzy, we’re gonna be late to our reservation.”

Holster jumped to his feet and grabbed his phone.

“I’ll get changed and meet you at the car. The reservation is for 7, right?”

Ransom nodded and started to run out to the car when he turned back to Holster with a grin.

“Hey Adam?”

“Yeah Rans?”

“Can you believe we’re graduating in a few months?”

Holster shrugged and laughed.

“Can you believe that we have to go apartment shopping?”

Ransom leaned against the doorframe, looking at Holster with a soft smile, all bright teeth and happy eyes. Holster called back to Ransom as he dashed up the stairs.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner Rans, my turn to buy!”

Ransom called after him as Holster climbed the stairway.

“We both know that’s not in the budget!”

Holster laughed loudly enough at that that Ransom could hear it from the car.


where else you can see the cast of band of brothers ⤔ frank john hughes

band of brothers - ‘wild bill’ guarnere
catch me if you can - tom fox
the sopranos - walden belfiore
justified - terry powe
24 - tim woods
players - charlie o'bannon
bad boys - casper

So does anyone else have a certain type of ship they tend to like?


Cristiano Ronaldo in the mixed zone after winning the Champions League:Cristiano: Ramos’ season? Well, the truth is Sergio has made a motherfucking incredible year.*laughter from the journalists* Cristiano: “Motherfucking” can be said, right? *laughs*Oh, Cris ♥♥♥

Source: La Sexta TV