i have a thing for leather jackets

tagged by @neyieagetslazy

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better.

Nickname(s): Jackoff, Piss dad, Stim dad, Ianthro

Star Sign: Cancer

Height: 5'0

Time Right Now: 4:36 PM

Last Thing Googled: forensic knife cuts

Favorite Music Artists: Fall out Boy, Panic at the Disco, that genre,

Song Stuck in Your Head: if it pleases my echoloclia it’s there forever now

Last Movie Watched: Moana

Last TV Show Watched: LazyTown

What I’m Wearing Right Now: Big shirt. Leather jacket

Blog Creation Date: December 2016

What Kind of Stuff I Post: fucking lazytown shitposts

Do I Have Any Other Blogs?: @cowroyalty is my main

Do I Get Asks Regularly?: Yeah. I dont answer most/don’t answer publically

Why Did I Choose My URL?: Sportacow is something Glanni calls Sportacus in the play and I kinda have a thing for cows

Hogwarts House: slytherin probably, i dont potter

Pokemon Team: Valor

Favorite Color(s):  red, orange

Average Hours of Sleep: 4

Lucky Number: 369

Favorite Character(s): Ipro? yeah

How Many Blankets Do I Sleep With?:  i have a nest

Dream Job: i don’t know what i’m doing with my life, this is a lazytown blog

I tag whoever wants to do this because w/e

You know what I really really want to see?

Emma and Killian laughing.

Remember her giggles at magicking away his hook? Remember her giggles when he told her to keep the red leather jacket on? Remember his giggles at her smothering him in kisses post resurrection?

I want to see more stuff like that.

I want them to share whispers that make the other chuckle.

I want them to find something so funny that they can’t keep the laughter in and one of them ends up full on belly laughing.

I want them to be so wrapped up in their little inside jokes that Snow gives them a suspicious look and a “what are you two up to?”

I want them to share a knowing look that makes the other smirk or snort and everyone around them just rolls their eyes.

Because they’re not just true loves, they’re not just partners…

They’re also best friends.

  • Jason Todd: Batman, this is Red Hood. I'm calling to let you know how disappointed I am in your story. How horrible you shit on me and-
  • Roy Harper: YOU LIED! YOU FUCKING LIED! WHY'D YOU DO IT!?
  • Jason Todd: STOP IT, ROY!
  • Roy Harper: YOU LIED!
  • Jason Todd: STOP! STOP! GOD DAMMIT!
  • Jason Todd: Batman, this is Red Hood calling. I'm calling to let you know how disappointed I am in your story. There’s many things that I read in here that were false, like you saying that I wore Yeezy Boost 350s to the docks with my leather jacket, when I wore vintage brown Dr Martens.
  • Roy Harper: 29 DOLLARS!
  • Jason Todd: EVERY TIME YOU FUCKING YELL I HAVE TO RE-RECORD IT!
  • Jason Todd: Batman, this is Red Hood calling. I’m calling to let you know how disappointed I am in your story and the light you shed on me when I am going through such a hard time in my life. I opened up to you so that way the world could potentially know what a great, amazing, talented, strong -
  • Roy Harper: *starts crying*
  • Jason Todd: - healthy, boy that I am – not even a boy – young man. I am petrified! Petrified with this story!
  • Roy Harper: *grunts*
  • Jason Todd: I’m so disappointed, and I’m letting you know that I will clear this up. Have a nice life. Goodbye.
  • Roy Harper: That was beautiful. You did such a good job of expressing yourself.
Like Flowers We Bloom | Yoongi

Scenario: In which a garden isn’t the only thing you’re building with Min Yoongi
Genre: Fluff/Angst, Bad Boy!Yoongi
Word Count: 5,078
Author’s Note: For the past few days, I really struggled trying to come up with the direction I wanted to go with this story until I had an epiphany in the shower. I kid you not when I say that I dashed out of the shower to grab a stack of post-it notes and pen and literally wrote the entire storyline out across my bathroom door in a towel. Definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done under the excuse of being a writer.

.

Yoongi can’t help but curl his lips into a snarl around the cigarette hanging between his teeth as watches Kim Taehyung produce a spray can from the insides of his backpack. “Again?” Yoongi crows, still leaning against the wall, hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Jesus Tae, have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried to pull this off?”

Taehyung merely smiles at this, shaking the spray can as he takes a few steps back from the wall, a hint of admiration upon the blank canvas—soon to be filled with the freedom of his expression. “What ever happened to learning from your mistakes, hyung?”

“I like to think you’re smarter than that when it comes to something like this,” Yoongi lets out before scoffing at his friend. “And out in public too for fucks sake.”

It’s true—Taehyung has always been a little too reckless for Yoongi’s taste, always electing to do something and worrying about the consequences later on. The latter would know this from experience, of course. Taehyung almost got them all arrested a few weeks back because of the very item Taehyung is showcasing in his hands. Under broad daylight.

Taehyung tsks at the older boy, tossing the spray can to Jimin before retrieving another from his backpack. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Yoongi scowls in disapproval, but doesn’t say anything as he turns to face Hoseok. He knows that no matter how many times he could try to lecture the younger boy, or even try to enlist Seokjin in this matter, it would all be pointless. More often than not, Taehyung had a mind of his own and was often more stubborn than anyone would even care to admit.

Jimin and Taehyung barely get four strokes down across the wall before the sirens echo in the neighbor, growing so loud that it soon becomes obvious that word of the group’s misbehaviors had spread around to the cops. They see the cars turn the corner before any of them can react properly to it.

“Holy shit!” Hoseok manages, summarizing the feeling for everyone as Yoongi practically touchdowns his cigarette onto the ground, barely giving himself time to step on it before he dashes after the other boys. The silence of the once relatively peaceful area is filled with the rather hysterical laughter of Taehyung and Yoongi crowing ‘I told you so you little piece of shit!’.

Keep reading

my house headcanons
  • gryffindor: bonfires with friends, heart pounding and sweaty palms, being terrified but just going for it, leather jackets, combat boots, flannel shirts, holey jeans, cutting holes in old tees, tees w/bands or things you like, baseball caps + beanies, beat up converse, tank tops when it’s too cold out, weird outfits that end up looking great or terrible (but usually great), weeds (esp. the flowery ones), four leaf clovers, going apple picking, corn mazes + scarecrows, laughing at scary movies/haunted houses, goosebumps books, going all-out for halloween, stepping on crunchy leaves, the way everything looks when all the trees are different colors in fall, really intense/fast-paced relationships, abrupt endings, angry tears, not calling first, pride, songs that pump you up + make you think you can do anything, making everything a contest, skinned knees + bloody knuckles, raw emotion, really graphic/detailed tattoos, finger/foot tattoos, not giving a shit that everyone hates something if you like it, others’ dislike making you do it more, making a ton of plans but never following them + winging it, spontaneous road trips, long night drives, jumping in a lake in the middle of winter, walking on a frozen pond, short hair/pixie cuts or always keeping it back, borrowing chapstick (and always needing it), coffee w/lots of sugar half the time and black the other, only thinking in extremes, not thinking + just doing, always knocking shit over but managing to catch it/never breaking it, reading summaries of everything for class, journals half-finished, super chocolatey ice cream, not having a plan for life but taking a chance
  • ravenclaw: passing notes in class, love letters, astronomy, sweaters, anything knitted, poor patching jobs, mismatched buttons, ironed button shirts w/the sleeves rolled perfectly, dozens of cross-outs in handwritten work, paper painted w/tea, typewriter font, forget-me-nots, rainy/gloomy days, dresses w/tights, twirling in dresses, wearing stuff with pockets just so you don’t have to carry a purse, sunhats, mary janes, knee socks, shorthand notes from writing so much, telling jokes with your friends that make no sense to others, tons of blankets, singing really loud when you think you’re alone, indie/piano music, metaphors, a bunch of small random tattoos, one or two really deep loves, either going everywhere alone or with two best friends, braids, purposely messy hair, light brown hair, hair dyed bright colors, biting/picking your nails when you’re nervous, hot tea, overthinking/worrying + regretting, ballet, either really graceful or really clumsy, tripping but acting like you didn’t, classic literature, diaries, mint chocolate chip ice cream, being born into affluent families
  • slytherin: whispering and laughing with your friends, hair always looking perfect, black lace dresses, leather boots, studded clothes, thigh-highs, wearing heels even when it’s impractical but refusing to complain, wearing stuff without pockets + then keeping stuff in your bra/boots, organized desks w/nothing out of place, cursive handwriting, ivy, pine trees, black/white roses, white candles, upside-down crosses, one whole day spent in bed + overworking the next, locking yourself away for long periods, the calm as snow falls, falling asleep not touching but waking up wrapped around each other, vultures, angry songs, either no tattoos or a lot (of words/sayings), rolling your eyes but secretly identifying with things, being the dumper, short relationships, breaking up w/someone because you’re scared when it gets serious, black hair, blonde hair that’s almost white, purple/black lipstick, black coffee, always poised/collected on the outside, breaking down for .2 seconds in front of someone and berating yourself for it, acting like an asshole because you’re insecure/uncomfortable, feeling terrible for betraying someone years after + going to them in the middle of the night to apologize, edgar allan poe stories, russian poetry, everything typed, italian ice/gelato, working your way to the top no matter what it takes
  • hufflepuff: laughing so hard you can’t breathe and your sides ache, daisies + wishy flowers, sunflower seeds, watermelon, sundresses, polka dots, bright colors, jean jackets/shorts, rompers, patterned tights, snapbacks, taking the fall for someone, underdogs, smiling when you want to cry, not complaining because someone else is having a worse day, breezy spring days, hot summer beach trips, seed-spitting contests, guilt over something that’s not your fault, hugging stuffed animals/pillows, canaries, always humming + dancing around, upbeat pop/cute acoustic, one or two really meaningful tattoos/matching tattoos with someone, trying to walk barefoot outside but regretting it (then walking carefully on your toes), messy + super curly hair, golden blonde hair, freckles, dimples, a small gap in your teeth, fruity flavored lipgloss/light pink lipstick, cold drinks, being the first to text, grouptexts, twister, reading to little kids, shel silverstein, making scrapbooks/photo albums, vanilla ice cream w/rainbow sprinkles + whipped cream, sherbet ice cream, settling for the middle if being the best means cheating

anonymous asked:

Hey, I'm not a sugar baby however I really like the fashion style, I was wondering where you shop (maybe more affordable stores) and what colours and fabrics you look for? I'd like to give the illusion that it cost more than it actually does haha. Thank you x

Hey babe! That’s my goal AT ALL TIMES too, so I get you. Zara and topshop if I’m on Oxford street, showpo, boohoo, asos for the online ones: those are the regular cheap ones I use, and tbh around 70% (maybe??) of my closet is filled with cheaper clothes.
Ofc I would recommend investing in some pieces: a good coat, heels, leather jacket, and accessories. Things that you can wear more often. In general, if you have one luxury item with you, people will assume your whole outfit is high end.
And I don’t even know which fabrics I choose 🤔 But well, it’s pretty obvious if a fabric looks cheap or poorly made, so that’s why I don’t really like shopping online. Also I never get anything with too much polyester because then I keep giving people mini electric shocks wtf. Anddd never get fabrics that lint will always stick to.
Tbh it’s not so much what you buy, but how you wear and take care of it. So a few tips:
🔑 find a good dry cleaner and opt going there instead of drying your own more delicate pieces.
🔑 aim for a monochromatic look ALWAYS. Personally, I go extreme during winters and mostly wear only black, grey, and white pieces (maybe with a brightly coloured accessory. Maybe.)
🔑 heels transform everything!!
🔑 never step out of the house without your hair, makeup, and nails done to perfection.
🔑 always pick classic pieces over the more modern ones.
🔑 just… keep up basic hygiene. Have a lint roller. Smell nice.
🔑 carry yourself with elegance and poise.
🔑 have a few set outfits you move between, and then just switch out the individual pieces to not look like a freak.
🔑 have someone that inspires your outfits.
🔑 find a friend that won’t let you out the house if you look bad.
Okay I don’t even know what the ask was anymore so sorry if I missed anything xx

  • what i say my aesthetic is: punk bitch who doesn't take any shit, just me and my guitar against the world, writing poetry on my arm when I'm drunk, having the coolest taste in music, middle finger up at society, tattoos, cigarettes, blood, leather jackets
  • what my aesthetic actually is: having to pee but being too shy to ask where the bathroom is, drinking cold tea because i forgot i made it hours ago, crying every time i'm required to do anything, procrastinating homework and things i enjoy equally, hating everything i create, hiding my sadness behind memes

I am a gay man.

I wear makeup occasionally. I wear shoes with a heel. I love musical theatre. I love stuffed animals and fairy lights and I love cute things. I love glitter. I love cookies and cupcakes and all else. Yeah, I own a princess blanket. 

I am a gay man.

I love football, playing and watching. I love fixing cars. I love wrestling and fighting. I love drinking with my buddies. I love playing poker. I love baseball. I love arguing and debating. I love flannel and leather jackets. I love black coffee. Yeah, I’ve gotten into a few fist fights.

You don’t have to be either masculine or feminine, a tank or a bear, to be gay. 

hs fic where maggie is the badass of the school walking around in her leather jacket. she’s out and proud and if anyone disagrees with it theyre too afraid to say anything. then we have alex the science nerd who just wants to get into med school, and also has to worry about looking after kara. and their paths cross one day and alex is suddenly like ‘holy shit!! i can be be into girls. that is a thing that happens in the world’ and then maggie is her gay mentor that shows her a whole new side of herself. and they also fall in love

Mayor…No one is shooting at him… One of the things to be acknowledged this year…And I can’t remember the exact episode…Adrian Chase, Josh Segarra, the new District Attorney, you know he said that “Vigilantes are symptoms of a bigger problem. You have vigilantes because you don’t have a criminal justice system that works within the city”… So I think that, if Oliver ever cleaned up Staling City, he will give it up, he will hang up his boots and leather pants, and leather jacket and leather gloves and whatever else he wears….He’ll be the Mayor, maybe settle down, have a movie night every Wednesday
shit fakehaus has canonically done in heists
  • “why are you shooting guns? this is a scope out!”
  • lawrence has shot things to ruin the set up of a mission multiple times
  • shoots an unnecessary amount of flares no matter what the mission is
    • have set each other on fire with said flares
  • adam killed bruce with a golf club by accident
  • they were all wearing suits for a heist, but james walked out in a red and black leather jacket
  • james and lawrence drove right into the middle of a bunch of merryweather men, and bruce, while driving into the same place, goes “WAIT WAS THAT A BAD IDEA”
    • spoiler: they immediately die
  • they went in to hold up a convenience store, lawrence wedged a truck into the door so they couldnt get out
  • pointed guns at each other on the way to the main heist
    • “CAN WE JUST GO TO WENDYS WITHOUT SOMEONE SHOOTING A GUN”
  • james using tear gas to try and steal cocaine from a boat
  • adam and james ramped onto a boat and started killing everyone
  • made it to the delivery spot, but bruce hit james and then gave james stars, so then they had to start blowing up cops
  • constantly tried to ramp off everything
    • only worked 25% of the time
5

How often do we see Felicity wearing leather on the show? Very rarely, because she’s not a mask. It’s not her thing. The few times we’ve seen her in leather have been when they’re out in the field. I recall Emily mentioning this an interview awhile back - how much she wears leather in real life vs. Felicity.

I don’t think we’ve ever seen them as just Oliver and Felicity, out in the open, both in leather jackets. This might be a random style choice by wardrobe, and it very well could be. However, I found it interesting, and a little bit intriguing. 

Mainly going off of some of the theories I’m seeing for 5B, about Felicity perhaps going undercover to take down either/or/both Detective Baby Hands/Prometheus. Maybe Oliver and Felicity are engaging in an “Unthinkable” of their own? 

There has to be a sane reason why the writers gave Felicity this bland/vanilla, seemingly nice guy as a love interest right out of the gate with zero context as to how or why this relationship came about. 

Did Billy Jean seek her out because he already knew who she was? Is he just the next Sebastian Blood? A pawn in a much larger game? I don’t think he’s Prometheus, but I do think he’s doing the bidding for the big bad, much as Sebastian did for Slade Wilson.

I definitely think you are on to something with your theory @almondblossomme

typical hogwarts house aesthetic posts
  • gryffindor: combat boots and leather jackets and any clothes that look even remotely edgy because apparently all gryffindors are from an 80s rock band???? fire, literally anything "punk rock", the word fuck like a billion times, a shit ton of alcohol, and a cigarette. because gryffindors have like a fucking death wish or something
  • ravenclaw: water. water everywhere. usually something night related - stars or the moon. an owl. some kind of weird white ancient statue because why the fuck not. of course we can't forget the books and the artsy pic of some fancy ass library somewhere. and glasses. because all nerds wear glasses.
  • hufflepuff: grains. so many fucking grains like i get it they're next to the kitchens. yellow sundresses + sunflowers + sometimes the actual fucking sun. nothing that actually has anything to do with their personality just a bunch of non-confrontational yellow looking things
  • slytherin: those weird pics of models but only showing their teeth/mouths, a scary ass looking snake, some scary ass jewelry (studded collars usually???). pics of people looking super like intimidating like they're imagining the secrets of the world or some shit.
Me Too: Gerard Way imagine

Y/N: I decided to combine two requests because they were kind of the same thing. This is also based off a true story I read online about one of Gerard’s old photographers. Also a huge happy 2017! You guys are amazing and deserve a spectacular year!

Anonymous said:
Hai!! Could you write an imagine with “Desolation Row” Gerard, where he is like a super bad boy, but has a soft spot for the reader and it’s really fluffy..??
Anonymous said:
Hey! If you have the time could you write a punk!gerard imagine? Supper fluffy but he’s like super mean to everyone but y/n

Leather jacket, ripped jeans, pale skin, jet black hair, cigarette between his lips, hazel eyes, feet propped up on a chair, smoke tumbling from his mouth, there he was. You watched carefully as a small boy named Frank pushed past you and stood beside him, hands on his hips. “What the fuck do you want?” the boy in the leather jacket snapped. People had talked about him everywhere. He was world famous anyways, lead singer of a rock band, super bad ass, the kind to back talk to a cop or kill a guy. You had heard his name a million times, Gerard Way. You just had never actually met him in person.

“Our manager’s telling us we have to go soon,” Frank snapped.

“Tell him he can suck my dick,” Gerard muttered. “I honestly don’t give a shit.”

“We have to go soon,” Frank persisted. “You can’t just sit there and smoke a cigarette. He’s going to come in here and kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Gerard scoffed.

Honestly, you were nervous as hell. You had heard that he fired the last photographer and you weren’t ready to be the next. You cleared your throat, took a deep breath, and mustered up all the confidence within you before speaking. “Mr. Way,” you called his name. He whipped his head around, lowering his feet, groaning, tossing his cigarette to the ground, about ready to unleash all hell on you, but he stopped as soon as his eyes met yours.

All of a sudden, his defiant, angry, belligerent mood fades away and his pout turns into a smile. He drinks in the entirety of your presence and smirks. “Well what do I owe the pleasure?” he raised his eyebrows. He crushes the cigarette butt on the floor with the heel of his boot and sticks out a hand, covered in a fingerless glove, spiked wrists, matching every other punk accessory that adorned him. You shook his hand and gave a grin.

“I’m y/n,” you explained. “The new photographer.”

“Oh thank heavens,” Gerard sighed. “The last one was such a bitch. I have a good feeling you’ll be much nicer.”

“I hope I live up to your expectations,” you winked.

“You’ll be fun to have around,” he nodded. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” you informed. “Heard you being awfully rude to your manager though.”

“He’s an asshole, he deserves it. Frank too,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s been getting on my nerves lately, pushing my buttons, really pissing me off.”

“So I take it I better keep a safe distance?” you joked.

“Nah, you can get as close as you want, sweetheart,” Gerard gave a sly smile. “I promise you I won’t bite.”

“Gerard! Get your fucking ass out here!” Frank shouted. “I’m not calling you again!”

“Can you shut your damn mouth for one second?” Gerard yelled back. “Geez, I’m sorry. Being stuck on this tour bus really gets to me. I think I might need to get out once in a while, clear my head. I think I could use some company, too. You have any plans tonight?”

“Not at all,” you replied.

“Sweet,” he remarked. “It was lovely meeting you, but I’m afraid there’s a bunch of lunatics calling my name. We have some stupid ass sound check we need to be at.”

“It’s cool,” you reassured. “I’ll talk to you after the show?”

“Definitely,” Gerard nodded. “I’ll be sure to put on a fancy smile just for you, lovely.”

“That’d be perfect,” you decided.

“Can I get a name, perhaps?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Y/n,” you answered. “And you’re Gerard right?”

“The one and only,” he grinned.

“You’ve got one fucking minute until the manager comes in there and whoops your fucking ass!” Frank hollered. “I’d hurry the hell up, Gerard!”

“I’m going to take that as my cue to leave,” Gerard apologized. “I’ll see you around.”

“Good luck,” you chuckled.

Some people had called him weird before, but this wasn’t what you had expected. His snappy responses, constant cussing, loud voice, and hot temper seemed to vanish every time he so much as turned to face you. It was like the entire world was on his blacklist except for you. You rolled your eyes, thinking it must be a matter of time until he decided to unleash hell upon you too. He couldn’t keep up the act much longer. You had seen the way he yelled at Frank and treated his manager. You were only the photographer, which meant he could very well treat you a hundred times worse. The thought of it made you nervous. That’s why you seemed a little off your game when you went to the concert, snapping photos of the band as they jumped on stage, shouting lyrics and playing their instruments loudly, making awkward eye contact with the people in the crowd.

It was after the show and you were on the tour bus, on your laptop, filtering through your photos. You had noticed how many of them had turned out to be blurry, unfocused, or out of frame. That’s when you felt someone sit beside you on the couch and you looked up, realizing it was Gerard. “Those look good,” he pointed to one of them that focused on him screaming into a microphone. “I like them a lot.”

“That’s only because you’re in it,” you smirked, attempting to be playful.

“Yeah, but you’re better than the last one,” he reassured. “Honest.”

“Most of them are kind of shitty,” you insisted. “I’m not going to lie. You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know they suck.”

“They don’t,” Gerard shook his head. “Hey Mikey! Come over here for a sec!”

“I don’t have a sec,” Mikey muttered from across the bus. “I have to take a shower. I’m yucky and sweaty and gross.”

“Just come over here, will you?” Gerard argued. He turned towards you and chuckled. “He’s my brother.”

“Fine,” Mikey complied, sitting down on the other side of you.

“Look at these photos,” Gerard explained, pointing to one you took of Mikey plucking away at his bass. “Aren’t they amazing?”

“Woah,” his eyes were transfixed on the image. “That’s great, y/n.”

“Told you so,” Gerard gave you a light shove. “You’re doing an amazing job and it’s only your first day.”

“Can I leave now?” Mikey wondered, irritated.

“Yeah, whatever,” Gerard rolled his eyes. “Point made valid, your photos are pretty stellar.”

“They’re average,” you shrugged.

“Enough of that,” Gerard laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower and then let’s go out for drinks or something at a bar.”

“Seriously?” your eyes lit up. “I thought we were confined to the tour bus.”

“Nah,” Gerard reassured. “You’ll be fine. I do it all the time.”

While you waited on Gerard, you tried editing some of the photos, cropping out a couple blurry edges, you couldn’t quite concentrate. His words were still lingering in your mind, the way he complimented your photos, how he seemed to be annoying or rude to everyone else except you, everything about him so confusing. How come he was such a dick to everyone but as soon as he made eye contact with you, all of that faded away and he was the sweetest dude you’ve ever met? When he reemerged from the back of the tour bus, his hair was neatly combed at the sides, eyes twinkling, dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, sly smile. He extended a hand to you and you closed your laptop, excited. “You look great,” you raised your eyebrows. “Makes me feel undressed.”

“You look fine,” he smiled. “You could outdo me any day.”

“Enough with the silly compliments,” you rolled your eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Whatever you say,” he winked. Goddammit why was he so cute sometimes? That was the other thing. All the time he looked like some crazy aggressive punk ready to beat the shit out of whoever so much as looked him in the eyes, but around you, he was an adorable fluffy kind gentleman asking you if you’d like to accompany him on a night out at a bar. This only perplexed you even more, and you decided to leave it be, linking your arm with his and following him out the tour bus.

“Where are you going?” Ray snapped, watching you two leave.

“We’ll be back soon, asshole,” Gerard reassured.

“Rude,” Ray glared, stomping onto the tour bus and leaving you and Gerard to travel down the sidewalk.

“Hey,” you decided to speak out. “You could be nicer.”

“So what?” he shrugged. “He deserves it.”

“Everyone seems to deserve it!” you threw your hands up in the air, frustrated.

“Not you,” he pointed out.

“Exactly!” you shouted, twice as exhausted with this mystery. “You’re so damn feisty and rude and mean to everyone except for me and I don’t know why!”

“Because…” Gerard’s voice faltered.

“Because?” you raised an eyebrow, yearning to know.

“Never mind,” Gerard sighed. “I’m just an angry person.”

“Yeah, well you could be angry at me too,” you argued.

“Come on,” he just ignored your suggestion and ushered you into a bar, holding open the door and leading you towards a seat. He ordered two tall beers and took a long sip, then stared at you. “Do you really want to know, y/n?”

“Yes,” you insisted. “I’ve been dying to know. And it’s only been one day with you but you confuse me so much and I-” You stopped instantly in the middle of your sentence, realizing that one of your favorite songs was playing. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Gerard inquired, thoroughly confused of what was going on.

“Oh. My. God!” you squealed.

“What is going on?” he repeated.

“It’s my favorite song!” you explained, grabbing his hand and yanking him up off the seat.

“What are we doing?” Gerard laughed.

“Dancing!” you exclaimed, swaying to the beat happily, twirling around. “Come on. Join me!”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “I’m not that big on dancing.”

“Gerard,” you begged, giving him puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“Okay,” he smirked, placing his hands on your hips and swaying alongside you. “But if Frank or anyone else sees me here, I will kill you.”

“I’m okay with that,” you giggled. “You can kill me any day.”

“I’m just joking,” he rolled his eyes, spinning you around once, then catching you in his arms. “I could never kill anyone as adorable as you.”

“I think you’re a softie,” you insisted, both of you swaying to the music. “All of this, the leather jackets, the cussing, the rock band, all of that, it’s a cover. You’re just scared of being vulnerable. That’s what I think.”

“That’s what you think?” he smiled, amused.

“Yeah,” you admitted.

“Well do you know what I think?” he questioned.

“What?” you inquired with a sly smile.

“I think you might like me,” he guessed.

“Really?” you smirked. “You think that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, suddenly turning shy. “It was just an assumption.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly. “So what if, um, what if I did like you? Just for instance?”

“Okay,” he took a moment to think for a second. “Well I think that maybe we could go on a nice date, to a bar or something maybe. Probably after one of my concerts, where I’d buy us a couple rounds of beer, and then your favorite song would come on, and we’d dance, even though I don’t really care for dancing. And maybe, just maybe if I got lucky enough, I could win a kiss at the end of the night. Because you know, I’d probably like you back.”

“Yeah?” a smile crept on your face.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But you know, that’s just for instance.”

“Oh,” you quickly responded. “Right…”

“Unless, you know, you really did like me,” he suggested. “And in that case, my assumption would be correct. I don’t know, cause uh, I didn’t get a response.”

“I see,” you sighed. “Are you still curious?”

“I guess you could call me that, yeah,” he admitted.

“I think I like you,” you confessed, not realizing that the song had stopped and the two of you were still swaying in each other’s arms.

“I think I like you too,” Gerard smirked. “So um, you think I could get lucky enough to get a kiss tonight?”

You didn’t even care to answer him, but instead, decided to plant your lips on his, pulling him closer towards you and felt him relax in your arms. “Yeah,” you chuckled, catching your breath when you both pulled away, looking into each other’s eyes. “I think you could get lucky tonight.”

“Well on that note,” he smirked. “I think we’ll have a very long eventful night in store for the two of us.”

“Not too eventful,” you narrowed your eyes, earning a laugh from him. You both looked around, realizing how dumb you must look standing up in the middle of the bar, and decided to return to your seats and finish your beers.

You two wasted away the rest of the night drinking and talking. You told him about your life, your family, your career, how you found out about his band, and all the crazy things you’ve heard about him. He told you about his insane experiences on tour, with the old photographer, being with the boys, becoming famous, singing on stage every night. You talked about what you thought the first time you saw him, and he told you about what he thought of you the first time he saw you. It was definitely interesting to see your two different viewpoints, and it must’ve been several rounds of beers before you both ended up kissing again, and eventually walking down the sidewalk and finding your way back to the tour bus. You didn’t know how it happened, but you found yourself cuddled up with him in his bunker, both of you underneath the sheets, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressed to your neck. “You know what you said earlier?” he mumbled. “About me pretending to be tough and fierce and all that because I was afraid of being vulnerable?”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“You were right,” he admitted. “But I was just scared of getting hurt. I thought maybe if I opened up to someone, loved someone, I might get hurt. I don’t know. It’s probably stupid.”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s okay. I just don’t get it, because I mean, you don’t have to be like that. You can let down your walls once in a while. You don’t have to treat everyone so rude. Just treat them like you treat me.”

“But they aren’t you,” he frowned. “Nobody’s like you.”

“I know,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m crazy, you don’t have to remind me.”

“No, you’re perfect,” he chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “That’s why I love you.”

“Love me?” you widened your eyes. “I thought you liked me.”

“Well I might be a little more than like,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he blushed.

“Me too,” you grinned.

Simon sneers

This is my AU little thing for the Carry On Countdown (@carryon-countdown ) pastel/punk prompt. I combined it slightly with yesterday’s opposite day prompt because Simon is pining after Baz and most people I’ve talked to have punk!Baz and pastel!Simon but idk. Enjoy, lovelies!


Simon was seething. That fucking angel of a boy thought he could get away with whatever the hell he wanted by batting his eyes and adjusting his stupid flower crown at the teacher, while Simon took the fall for everything he did and didn’t do because he wore a goddamn leather jacket and dyed his hair.

Baz flounced (Simon could think of no other word for the way he walked) back into his seat, winking at the punk as he did. Simon sneered at him, ignoring the light blush seeping into his cheeks. He HATED Baz. That’s why he stared at him. That’s why he was always on his mind. That’s why he thought about him at night when he-

“Simon! Are you with us or not?”

Simon snapped abruptly back into reality as the teacher called him out. “Oh, um, yessir,” he mumbled, fighting back the blush as it made its return. “Sorry, got distracted thinking about, um… maths.”

The teacher laughed at him and moved on, causing Simon to growl low in his throat. If Baz had made the same dumbass excuse, he’d get away with it. Fuck all this, he was done.

Pushing his chair back with a clatter, Simon swung his bag over his shoulder and began walking out of the room. He responded to the teacher’s shouts for him to return with a middle finger behind him. He stormed through the halls of his shitty high school to his locker, where he could dump his stuff and get out of there.

Before he could do anything, he felt a hand tracing his shoulders. He turned to see Baz, in all his flouncy glory. His grey eyes sparkled, and his tanned skin seemed to glow. Simon shook his head at the thought and sneered at Baz. “What are you doing here? Isn’t our lovely teacher missing his favorite pet?”

Baz laughed, showing two of the cutest dimples Simon had ever seen. “I told that idiot that I was going to ‘calm you down.’ However, you seem more agitated now that I’m here.”

“I AM more agitated now  you’re here. How observant of you, Basilton! No wonder you get all A’s.” Simon sarcastically. Baz just giggled at him and slipped in between Simon and his locker. Simon’s breath caught in his throat at Baz’s face so close to his own. Simon’s blue curls fell into his face, only to be pushed back by Baz’s slender hands. “Get- off of me,” Simon said weakly. They both knew he didn’t mean it, and Baz giggled at him again.

“You sure you want that, sweetheart?” Baz mumbled, tightening his grip slightly on Simon’s hair. Simon took a deep, shuddering breath. He had imagined this too many times, seen it too many times in his dreams, wishing it to be real. Now it was, he didn’t know what to do. Baz could see his hard, cold front melting and falling away as he looked at the beautiful boy in front of him. Simon shook his head again to clear it, focusing on the grey eyes in front of him. Tentatively, he reached out and put his hands on Baz’s hips, pulling him closer, until their chests touched. Baz melted into Simon slightly, threading his arms around his shoulders. Simon looked at him, his blush now full blown across his cheeks and nose.

“I could never want that,” Simon breathed out. Baz smiled, his eyes fluttering closed.

Simon closed his eyes, took a breath, and leaned in.

blueberries & bad boys;

member- taehyung

genre- fluff, au

words- 1,652

summary- he was bad, but he was also good. badboy!au

a/n- i didn’t have time to proofread, so i’m sorry! but taehyung’s “wings” short film inspired me for this, so i hope you enjoy! (also, come scream to me about wings!!!) 

Originally posted by yoongukie

He was practically a national treasure.

Girls ‘ooh'ed and ‘ahh'ed as he walked around campus, notoriously wearing a red leather jacket with a cherry red sucker hanging from his lips- which happened to be permanently stuck in a smirk. Red was kind of his thing.

Honestly, Kim Taehyung may have been the most gorgeous human being you had ever had the joy in seeing. You couldn’t believe that he was a real human being and not an angel sent down from heaven to grace you with his good looks. Though, you weren’t the only person who thought that, which kind of made having a major crush on him absolutely fucking terrible.

You sighed and drew your eyes away from his figure and down at your notepad. You were trying your best to create a poem good enough to turn into your professor, but everything has came out too bland or trite. Frustration was beginning to creep into your finger tips as you scribbled on the paper, accidentally breaking the lead from the pencil.

“Harsh,” a deep, gravelly voice said from your right. You snapped your head up and over to see the mystery man, and you were immediately shocked to see him standing only a few feet from you.

“Well, you know…never liked pencils much.” Wow, how smooth Y/N, you thought.

He smiled and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a seat beside you on the metal bench. “They are pretty dispicable.” He removed his lollipop from his mouth. “I’m Taehyung.”

You snorted. “As if I don’t know who you are,” you replied, then instantly regretted it. You were not playing it cool.

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh?”

You looked down at your sneakers, scraping the toe against the dirt. “Uhm, well, it’s just that you’re, uh…pretty popular and stuff. Everybody knows who you are.”

“I just care that you know my name…” He paused and placed a big, warm hand on your knee, which made you jolt slightly. “…Y/N.”

He winked and stood up, turning around and sauntering back the way he came. Your heart pounded hard in your chest, making it hard for your lungs to focus on breathing. Your whole body tingled with excitement and anxiety. What made him come over to you, of all people? You weren’t even one of the popular, pretty girls on campus who go to parties and flirt with boys. You were the girl who wore her Converse almost every day and spent her nights watching cartoons, which directly translated to Not Cool Enough for Kim Taehyung.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever be.

But miraculously, from that day on, Taehyung began to talk to you at least once a day. At first, it was always something simple, like if you had any exams coming up or if you had a good morning. Things only began to evolve into something more intimate when one day Taehyung showed up in the hallway after of your Comp class with a small, plastic package in his hands.

“These are for you,” he said and placed the gift into your hands.  You looked up at him, confused.

“You bought me something?” you questioned. You two had barely spoken for more than five minutes at a time, and he was buying you presents?

He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, kind of. Just look.”

You pull the lid off the box, and are greeted with a sweet smell almost immediately. “Blueberries?”

A pink blush spread across his cheeks. “Yeah, you said they were your favorite fruit and my grandma runs a small blueberry farm outside of town…so I went and got some for you.”

You smiled. “You know, guys normally bring the girl flowers, not fruit,” you teased as you shyly locked eyes with him.

He chuckled and grabbed onto your hand, pulling you along with him. “Who said I was normal?”

It became a tradition for you two. Every Thursday, Taehyung would bring you a box of the best blueberries his grandmother produced and you’d happily accept them. Most days, you two would share them while sitting beneath a large oak tree in the campus green, telling each other stories or playing 20 questions.

But today was different.

You had been in the middle of sharing a story about your childhood dog, playing with Taehyung’s ring-clad fingers simultaneously, when they approached. “They” happened to be the worst frat boys on campus.

“Look at Taehyung finally settling down,” a blonde one said with a mocking smirk on his face. You instinctively gripped Taehyung’s fingers tighter as the group got closer to the two of you. He gave you a reassuring squeeze back.

“Get lost,” he told them simply, not paying attention to their childish behavior and tossing a blueberry into his mouth. He pretended to ignore them as he pulled you closer to his side and urged you to continue talking.

“Oh give me a break. Quit acting like you’re a nice guy,” one said with a disgusted look on his face. Taehyung tensed up slightly at that comment, but he quickly relaxed. You knew he was good, and few douche’s opinions weren’t going to change your mind.

One stepped closer, which made Taehyung move slightly in front of you. The guy noticed, but didn’t comment. Instead, he smirked. “Is that what he brings you everyday? Blueberries? How fucking cheesy.” The dude chuckled darkly and looked at you with fake pity. “Newflash, sweetie. He only does all this to get in your pants.”

It was this that made Taehyung rise to his feet and confront the three. “Look, I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but leave me and Y/N alone. You’re being extremely immature right now, and I have no tolerance for dicks like you. So either go on your own, or I’ll make you leave.” You had never heard him be so serious before, so intimidating.

The guy didn’t budge. “What are you gonna fucking do about it, huh? Please, live up to your bad boy persona so your little bitch can see how much of an ass you actually are.”

It wasn’t a second later that the same guy was lying on the ground, holding his jaw. Taehyung unclenched his fist, his own sinister smile taking over his features. “If you ever come near us- or her- again, you won’t just get a brusied jaw. Now, I suggest you leave before things get a little out of hand,” he said firmly, with an air of cockiness in his voice. It sent a chill down your spine. You made a mental note to never get on his bad side.

The trio scrambled off, grumbling about how they would’ve totally won the fight if it went any further. You rose to your feet and approached Taehyung, grabbing his hand to examine it. “Your knuckle is bleeding,” you said softly.

Taehyung shrugged. “It’s okay.”

You shook your head. “I need to clean it up for you,” you insisted and began to drag him towards the direction of your apartment.

He rolled his eyes, but let you drag him. “It’s really okay, Y/N. I’m a big boy.”

You shook your head. “I understand. But, you protected me. So, it’s my turn to help you.”

“I don’t expect you to repay me for things like that. I don’t expect you to repay me for anything at all,” he assured you, but it fell on deaf ears. You were going to help him whether he liked it or not.

Your apartment was luckily not far from your university- only a few blocks, to be exact. After dragging Taehyung up the steps to your floor, you unlock your door and usher him inside. “Go sit on the couch and wait for me.”

He grumbled, but followed your instructions and took a seat. You scrambled around to find your first aid kit, quickly returning to Taehyung’s side. You didn’t want to give him too much time to snoop around your house. Not that you had anything to hide, but still.

“Give me your hand,” you ordered as you took a seat on the coffee table in front of Taehyung. He obeys.

“This is unnecessary, Y/N. I’ve had tons of injuries without cleaing them and such,” he told you, which made you gasp.

“Don’t tell me these things! Do you know how many infections you could’ve had?” you exclaimed while dabbing his bloody knuckle with a alcohol-soaked Q-tip. He laughed at your excessive worry.

“Y/N, I’m fine. Why do you care so much?” he asked honestly, which made you freeze.

You subconciously began to stroke his hand, trying to calm yourself down. “Well, because…I, uh, care for you?” you answered, though it ended up sounding like a question.

“You do?” You nodded and hastily placed a small, circular bandaid that covered the cut. Taehyung noticed your nervousness and smiled. In an instant, he pulled you from the coffee table and onto his lap. You gasped. The feeling of being pressed against him was something you had never experienced, but now wished that you had every single day of your life.

“I care about you, too,” he whispered, leaning his face up to yours. Your eyelashes touched, as did the very tips of your nose. And suddenly, you were kissing.

He tasted like cherries, which you had expected. But you hadn’t expected the butterflies that tingled in your stomach as his hands rubbed up and down your back or the fireworks exploding behind your closed eyes as you realized Oh my god, I’m kissing Kim Taehyung.

You don’t remember when it happened, but it had. You had fallen for the bad boy with the scuffed up knees and big smile, who also tended to have a love for the color red. But that wasn’t the only thing he loved.

He loved you, too.

anonymous asked:

General danvers - Brooklyn 99 au (or just a cop au if that's easier)

I have barely been able to function all day for going ASTRA IS ROSA ASTRA IS ROSA ASTRA IS ROSA so thanks for that.


“Danvers, your cleanup rate has taken a hit,” Hank tells her, hands on his hips as his captain’s badge gleams under the fluorescent lights. “I’m switching things up, like the chess Grand Master that I am, and partnering you with In-Ze.”

Alex looks across the bullpen in horror, where Astra in her trademark leather jacket is sharpening a Bowie knife, feet kicked up on the desk in military-surplus boots.

“Sir, I’m not even sure she’s on our side,” Alex hisses, but Hank just crosses his arms over his chest.

“Make it work,” he warns.

“Very Tim Gunn of you, sir.”

“Tim who?”

“Never mind.”

“In-Ze? Get your ass in here.” Astra flicks him a baleful look but then complies, marching into Hank’s office, barely sparing a grunt for Alex. “You have a new partner,” Hank continues. “You two should shake on it.”

Alex is so busy channelling her upper body strength into an impressive handshake that she doesn’t see it coming. The spark when Astra touches her feels like it could power half of the city, and they jump apart as though they’d actually been shocked.

Astra’s expression doesn’t change.

“Cool,” Alex manages to come up with. “Cool.”