#ripped sleeves and a backward cap

[turtleblogatlast]

I honestly love the clothing styles of each of the turtles in this show and I love how these styles really incorporate their personalities as well.

Like, obviously Donnie has the best sense of style, yeah? Think that’s something pretty agreed upon here. Everything we see him put together is very meticulously crafted and clean. That goes with his personality because Donnie is a very meticulous person in general, and he knows what he likes very, very well, and knows how to flaunt it in turn. Him commenting on colors he enjoys or disapproving of outfits that the others see no problem with also shows how he just generally has an eye for this kind of thing. He doesn’t just know what looks good on himself, but also what looks good on others - and I think this ties into his love of gift giving too. Donnie also has a flair for making sure that his things have his “mark” on them, and his clothing is no exception. All that he wears and how he wears them screams “Donnie.”

Mikey is really fun because his styles are honestly a pendulum between super simplistic and incredibly out there. And often, you’re going to see a lot of color or patterns to both. And in my opinion I think that all reflects really well on Mikey’s character - he’s got a colorful personality but even more than that he’s incredible sure of who he himself is. Mikey’s style, I feel, is less what looks good as clothes and more what sparks joy in Mikey himself. His bright stickers he wears are a testament of that! He’s comfortable in his own skin and his style reflects this perfectly, whether he goes for a more out-there look or a more toned down one.

Now, for Leo. Okay, I think I’m actually in the minority here I feel because Leo’s style isn’t really that bad? Hear me out- if you actually look at what he wears, try taking out, like, one accessory. Suddenly, that outfit works! He even manages to put together many good outfits in the series, but his “bad” ones are the ones that tend to stand out, alas (just like how his mistakes tend to be big ones oop-) Basically, my personal look at him is not that he’s inept at styling at all, but that he has a “too much” gene. And like everyone else, this sense of style is completely like him, too. Going too far to impress when all he needed to do was slow it down some to think things through. (And funnily enough, a lot of his outfits take random aspects from his brothers too - “nothing without them” huh?)

For Raph, I feel bad for him since pretty much all of his clothes are inevitably going to be ripped, but he makes them work pretty much each time. Like Leo, Raph tends to go more sporty with his looks, but I also noticed that his stuff often goes in that in between of comfy, cool, and cute. His pajama suit in particular comes to mind in terms of “cute” as it’s more something you’d see younger children in rather than older kids, and I think it can be a subtle nod to the fact that for all Raph tries to seem older, he’s still just a kid too.

I could probably go on, but these are just all off the top of my head - I love how the boys’ personality’s come out in so many different ways.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt headcanons #rise donnie #rise leo #rise mikey #rise raph #I love fashion actually #if you’re wondering where this came from it came from me watching hours of outfit creation vids #but yeah! I honestly could probably go more into it #but I’m going off my memory for the most part rip #Leo in particular makes me sad because I disagree with like 99% of the fandom about his fashion sense LOL #I don’t think it’s bad but it’s def not close to Donnie level #Donnie is his own category #Leo though he’s not just jerseys and ripped sleeves #he wears full eye makeup as a granny and kills doing it #his pirate costume was very well put together imo #even his regular weird frog like disguise is perfectly fine when you get rid of the goggles #I ALSO don’t think Raph’s style is bad either #my boy has more difficulty with clothes since he’s limited to the stretchier stuff but like #he’s got good style!! #I’m def looking more into this all than necessary but #watch me come back to this and change it like fifty times #if you’re wondering what I mean about Leo’s outfits taking from his brothers #look at Raph’s standard disguise (the one they go out to play basketball with) #ripped sleeves and a backward cap #one of Leo’s main outfits in The Clothes Don’t Fit the Turtle? #ripped sleeves and backwards cap #incedentally these borrowed aspects actually hinder his overall look! #his outfit without them is more HIM y’know? which says a lot about allll their individual styles

[luveline]

Ok but like shy!reader doodling Eddie's tattoos onto her own arms and then getting embarrassed when he sees them. But he's just like "wdym you're embarrassed, it's cute... But you're missing a bat, there's seven of them :)"

this is the cutest idea ever!! ♡ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You'd forgotten all about your penned imitations by the end of the day, a boring morning at work spent idly doodling swiftly replaced in your memory by a turbulent afternoon. 

You stare at the desk with your hands braced at the sides of your face. You're tired and aching and you just really want to see Eddie, his frizzy curls all windblown from driving with the windows down, his ripped clothes. 

Life is sometimes fair. As soon as you think of him, he appears.

"Hey," Eddie says, bright and easy.

You blink at him and grin from behind the Palace arcade desk.

"Miss me?" he asks, smirking.

You try to hide your smile but the damage has already been done. Refusing to answer, you pretend to be busier than you are, reaching under the counter for another roll of quarters. 

"I was thinking we'd go get milkshakes. You know, celebrate the weekend," he says, his hand clasped around the crook of his arm, head inclined to yours. 

"I'm sorry you have to wait for me," you apologise.

Eddie finishes school an hour and a half before you finish work. You know he's taken to spending that time in the parking lot, shooting the breeze. Or, from the smell, smoking it. You feel very guilty to take up his time like that, and also, secretly, very special. 

"Don't be. You know," he turns so his back is to you and points to his van, "when I park right there? I can see you running around in here. You realise they're only paying you minimum wage, right?" 

"You watch me working?" you ask. 

"What?" He spins around, a hand sewn into the hair behind his neck. "Of course not… Hey, what's that?" 

It's your worst nightmare to be caught like this, his tattoos badly replicated over your arm and on clear display. If he didn't know how hopeless you are about him before this is an amazingly obvious indication. 

You pull your arm to your chest in a poor attempt at hiding it and he vies for it, fingers kind but insistent as they close around your wrist. You're not in the habit of denying him anything but you can't look at him as he lays your arm across the desk. He's unusually quiet as he slides a ringed finger under your sleeve and hikes it up high. His fingertips stay bordering your sleeve and his thumb brushes over a clumsy wing, his eyes a shade from blank.

You squirm under his touch but don't pull away. Eddie's eyes flit up to your face. He takes in your embarrassment and is quick to try to make you feel better, his grip loosening. 

"Hey, it's okay. They look good on you." 

Your relief is palpable. You step as close to him as you can with the counter between you and he screws his lips to the side, a lopsided smile. 

"You're missing one," he says wryly. 

"Huh?" 

"You're missing one of the bats. D'you have a pen?" 

You lean back to the register and grab one for him. He takes it gratefully and unstoppers it with his teeth, holding the cap between his lips. The nib is small and thin and tickles you worse now that it's Eddie drawing on you. He sets it to your skin gently, a feathering sketch stretching out besides the other bats as he slowly completes your temporary tattoo. He does a much better job than you, though he has a clearer point of reference. 

He strokes your arm when he finishes, a cheerful smile affecting his every feature: his eyes crease, his cheeks perk up. 

"Voilà," he says. "Perfect." 

He changes his mind abruptly. "Oh, wait." 

He sets the pen to your skin again. You struggle to see it as he writes E.M in his brilliant hand, letters all pointy and broad. From your angle it looks like a W and a backwards E so it takes you a few seconds to recognise what they are.

"Gotta sign the artwork." 

You hold your hand out for the pen and he passes it to you. You struggle to write upside down, reworking your initials in your head before you set them underneath his with a small plus sign. 

He leans forward and squints at it. His hair falls in his face. You ditch the pen to tuck it behind his ear, your hand tentative, your touch lingering behind his earlobe. 

You're distracted by his earring, a tiny silver stud, and don't notice he's taken the pen again until he's half finished his next addition. 

He puts the pen down with a self-satisfied hum. 

A confident heart encapsulates both of your initials. 

"You should get that for keeps." You laugh, breathless, and his smile only grows. "Yeah? That would be sweet. The bats too, if you can stomach it."

"I should start small," you murmur. 

Funny, to see any kind of bashfulness on Eddie, who's features seem designed for smugness or something similar. 

"Maybe just the E," you add with a feigned nonchalance. 

He looks like he wants to jump over the desk. Nervous laughter bubbles up your throat and you pull your arm out of his grip to cover your mouth with your hand. 

"When's your shift finish?" he asks, though he knows. 

"Five minutes." 

He starts to back out of the arcade, eyes on yours and hand aloft. "You spend those five minutes thinking about what you want tonight, yeah? I'm gonna start the van." He almost hits a little kid on the way out. You can see the muttered cuss word on his lips. When he looks back at you he's electric. "Anything you want, you can have!"

His promise makes the last five minutes feel longer than any of the hours before. 

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Friends to Lovers | Steve Harrington

When a storm moves over Hawkins, your neighbor stops by to check on you.

TW: kissing, & more kissing with a little bit of bump & grind.

A deluge of rain punishes the earth for its unnamed transgressions. Dark cotton clouds roll across the sun, leaving the sky with a silvery amethyst glow. The green leaves desperately cling to the branches of a large oak as you watch from your raindrop-streaked window. A wall of torrential rain and wind moves across the garden with the smooth ripple of a snake. A loud crack precedes a neon lighting bolt, and a sizable branch hits the grass-carpeted ground. The northern oak sways ominously, mourning its lost limb. Scrambling toward the side of the bed furthest from the windows, you bring your black legging-clad legs towards your chest and tuck your toes under the white duvet. 

The white fairy lights you have strung around your bed flicker, and you pull up the soft sleeve of your well-loved open cardigan from where it slipped down your shoulder. The long growl of thunder rattles your window. Quickly, you pick up your leather over-the-ear headphones and place them snugly on your head, blocking out any further cries of disapproval from mother nature. The sensual beat lets your mind wander back into the scene you had been writing earlier. Fingers tracing the spiral black cord running from your headphones to wear their plugged into the receiver, your tongue sneaks out, wetting your bottom lip as the faceless man in your head runs his hand from the back of your thigh to your hip. With your favorite pen in hand, you scribble down the details in your black comp notebook, trying to capture the sensation of the strong hands moving over skin. A warmth covers your chest, and goosebumps rise in a wave as the freckles dotting the arms of your faceless man come into focus. The flexing muscles of his chest, the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows, a lock of golden brown hair falling over his brow. Sighing heavily, you rip out the page, crumple it up, and toss it toward the pile accumulating on your floor - you've got to stop picturing your neighbor.

He was jogging by as you wrestled your mattress from the back of the u-haul the day you moved in. His muscle tee stained darker in the center, saturated in sweat, and you weren't much better. Baby fine hairs that escaped your damp pony plastered to your sticky temples. 

"You need any help?" he asks, out of breath as he stops in front of you, taking off his baseball cap to wipe away some sweat. He pushes some hair to the side before turning his hat around and putting it on backward. 

The skeptical look you give him has him chuckling, "I'm not a creep, swear. I'm your neighbor. Apartment 44."

The ground-floor studio is one of four sandwiched between the rows of townhomes; you were lucky to snag it. The garden-style apartment opens to a shared green space with a pool and walking paths. It's the first time you've been able to afford somewhere on your own.

"Steve Harrington," he says, wiping his hand on his shorts before offering it to you. Deciding to take him up on his offer to help, you shake his hand and introduce yourself. 

"This is cozy," he nods, looking around the space after he helped you set up your bed. There wasn't much to see. A mattress on a platform frame pushed close to a wall of windows, a desk with a word processor, and a small stand with your stereo that had crates of records and tapes surrounding it. A tiny efficiency kitchen ran along the same wall as the door, with an even smaller bathroom beside it. The extra-long cord for your headphones reaches every corner of your rental. 

"I'm sure it's not as nice as yours," you say, knowing the price difference between your studio and his two-bedroom.

"It's just bigger," he says with his hands resting on his hips, drawing your eyes down to the running shorts clinging to quite a substantial bulge. Sweet Jesus, what does he keep in there?

"It must be," your eyes snap up to his face, "I mean you have two bedrooms," you stumble trying to cover up your gawking.  

"They're pretty much all the same," he shrugs, "Pond View Estates doesn't offer much of a view. At least it didn't." 

He's flirting. The weight of his gaze makes you feel self-conscious in your sweaty, dirty, moving clothes, "Okay, well, thanks for your help," you move towards the door, hoping he'll take the hint. 

"Yeah, I'll let you get back to it. Let me know if you need anything," he pauses when he's on the other side of the threshold.

"I will. See you around," you say, inching the door closed.

"See you later…alligator," he says and then grimaces before turning in the direction of his apartment. 

Leaning with your back against the door you think you hear a quiet "Goddammit" being muttered as he walks away. Capturing your lip between your teeth, you fight back a chuckle. 

The song flowing into your ears fades into silence, quickly filled by the loud sound of the rain falling even harder outside. Alarm drags you back to the surface, away from the tranquil waters of the story playing out inside your head. Water is starting to collect in large puddles in the garden, and you worry the tiny slab of your concrete patio won't be enough to stop the rain from seeping under the french door. Slipping the headphones around your neck and setting aside your pen and notebook, you start scooting off your bed when a loud sound startles you. It takes a moment to realize the noise is someone rapping on your front door, not the sound of more tree limbs falling. The black cord trails behind you, the music sounding tinny and muffled where it comes out around your neck. The knocking grows more insistent. Twisting the deadbolt, you throw open the door without thinking of putting on the chain to check who is on the other side. 

The howling wind blows a fine mist through your door, damping your cheeks and the wooden boards around your bare feet. Steve is standing with one hand on the door casing, his mouth slightly agape with irritation, his shirt completely sodden and clinging, while rainwater drips from his hair down his face. 

"Steve, it's raining," you exclaim dumbly, surprised to see him in such a state on your doorstep.

"Yeah. I noticed," he closes his eyes and uses his thumb and index finger to clear his eyes, "Are you going to let me in?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, come in," you stand aside to let him pass. 

He stands just inside the door, the water dripping off him, creating a puddle around his sneakers. 

"You're soaked. Let me get you a towel," you open the small closet where you store your linens just outside the bathroom.

He toes off his shoes and carries them to the door. "I came to check on you. Make sure you weren't flooding," he yanks his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in worn light-washed jeans. It hits the floor with a splat. Rain water drips from his hair down his neck, disappearing into the patch of hair on his chest. 

He takes the towel you're holding and rubs at his wet locks, "Your car's here. So when you didn't answer, I got worried."

"I had my headphones on. I didn't hear you."

"I should have guessed," he says, bending down to mop up the water on the floor. 

"You don't have to worry about me, you know. It's just a thunderstorm," you say, startling as the lights flicker and a boom of thunder reverberates, shaking the dishes in your cupboard.

"I think I do," he says, taking a step towards you. The compact space feels even smaller with him here. 

"When you answer the door without the chain on," he takes another step, the distance between you shrinking, "Dressed like that," he motions to the lacy bralette under your cardigan. The swell of your breasts barely covered and your midriff left bare.

"I wasn't expecting company," you swallow. He's standing so close. He smells like rain and soap scented with citrus and cedar.

He dips his head, and your lips part as you lean slightly toward him. A moment before you touch, his fingers wrap around the headphone cord instead. He pulls the plug from the jack on your receiver, and a sultry woman's voice plays through the speakers mixing with the patter of the downpour, as she sings I'm open to fall from grace. The warmth of embarrassment rushes to your cheeks, and you step back, regaining some space and remembering what you asked of him weeks earlier.

Pushing up the sunglasses that keep sliding down your nose, aided by your sweat-slicked skin, you look up from your half-filled notebook at the crowded pool in front of you. The blazing sun and oppressive humidity had the entire complex gathered around the in-ground pool. A group of senior ladies wearing gaudy jewelry and jungle-print bathing suits sat gossiping while they baked in the sun, their browned skin resembling raisins. Harried mothers joined by husbands sporting farmers' tans trying to wrangle crying kids holding sticky melting popsicles. Ignoring the leer of an oiled-up man wearing a neon speedo and two many gold chains, you go back to writing. The play button on your walkman pops, indicating it's time to turn the tape to the other side. Balancing your notebook on your lap, you fumble the tape, and your pen bounces off the concrete pavers before rolling under the lounger beside you. 

"I'll get it," Steve says as he reaches under his lounger to retrieve your pen. Until then, you hadn't been aware of who was sitting beside you, but now you're very, very aware. A grin spreads across his boyishly handsome face, but the body it's attached to is all man. 

"Thanks," you smile as you take the pen from his hand. A zip of electricity dances under your skin where your fingers brush against his. 

"Can I ask you something?" he tilts his head and crosses those long legs at the ankle.

"Go for it," you slide your earphones down around your neck.

"Does the tape you're listening to have the same song playing on repeat?" he points at your walkman, the corners of his eyes crinkle as he squints in the bright sun. 

"You could hear that, huh?" you ask, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He nods in response, and you crinkle your nose disconcerted by his question, "Umm, yeah. It is the same song over and over again." 

He chuckles good-naturedly and waits for further explanation.

"I get distracted when a new song starts. It takes me away from what I'm writing." you pull your knees closer to your chest and wrap your arms around them. 

"So you're a writer?"

"I'm trying to be," you say, blowing out a breath. 

"What do you write?" he asks, leaning towards you, giving you his full attention.

Book covers with images of big hunky men ripping open the bodices of pink-cheeked ladies stamped with your pen name come to mind, so you decide to go with, "Whatever pays the bills."

"What about you?" you ask before he gets a chance to press you further. 

"I'm a manager at Family Video," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck, "but don't be impressed there are four employees, including me. Two of them are part-timers, and the other ones is another manager. So, I don't really manage anything. It means I keep the kids out of the adult section.

"Nothing wrong with being a cinephile," you comment. His face falls into confusion.

"Someone who loves films."

"Oh," his eyes brighten with understanding, "I do get free rentals," he says awkwardly before changing the subject, "Where are you from?"

"What makes you think I'm not from here?" you tease, "Does everybody really know each other?"

"Pretty much. It's a small town."

"Well, I'm an army brat, so I was in Huston and then St. Paul before my family moved to Chicago. I went to school for creative writing at Perdue, and now I'm here," you say, gesturing around you as a group of small children run by with a blow-up beach ball. 

"You should let me take you out sometime and show you around," he says, making his move. 

"Steve, you seem really great, but I just moved here. I'm trying to finish this book and get my feet under me. I'm not ready to date right now," you let him down gently, "but I could really use a friend?"

"Of course, we can be friends," he recovers quickly without a hint of disappointment in his voice, "Who said anything about dating? Friends show friends around."

"You're right. That was presumptuous of me," you say, going along with him. 

"Alright friend," he says, standing up, "I'll let you get back to work," he picks up his towel and wraps it around his neck, "I'll see you around," he heads in the direction of his apartment. 

"See you later, alligator," you call after him. 

Guys like him were usually too good to be true, but over the weeks, you've gotten to know him, and he's proved to be the exception. Settling into an easy friendship, he hasn't pushed for more. The attraction has been there, though, just under the surface, simmering like a pot on the stove. Small touches. A hand on the small of your back or your shoulder. Sitting with the outside of his thigh pressed against yours. Glances that have lasted a little too long. Increasing the heat, now he's standing right in front of you, and you feel like you're going to boil over.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says, walking away from you to the french door, bending down to check the seal.

Taking your headphones from around your neck and setting them down, you join him, crowding into his space. 

"Like what?" you ask once he's straightened up, looking into the warm honey hues of his eyes.

"Like you want me to…" he trails off as his eyes break the connection fluttering down to your lips. After a soft inhale, his mouth follows their path. Soft lips ghosting over yours, the lightest brush before pulling back, his eyes begging for permission.

"I thought we were friends," cold uncertainty pushes back against the fire between you.

"Friends kiss," he assures, his hand moving to your shoulder, nudging the neck of your sweater until it falls off your shoulder.

"Not like that," your stomach tightens with every touch.

"It doesn't count when it's raining," he reasons. His big hand lands on your hip, urging you closer.

"Why is that?" you place your palms flat on his bare stomach, and his abs jump under at the contact. 

"I don't know. I don't make the rules," the corners of his mouth twitch, fighting back a smile as he explains the absurd logic he concocted.

"Who does then?" you press, your hands slowly sliding up the silky skin of his chest, fingertips collecting his freckles as they pass.

"You do," his other hand presses into your back, pulling you flush against him. 

"Me?" you ask, surprised. The coarse hair on his chest is softer than it looks as your hands travel through it on their way to wrap around the back of his neck. 

"Yeah, you're going to tell me if you want me to stop, and I'm going to listen," he makes sure you know you're in control before his mouth comes down, pulling your bottom lip between his before mirroring his movements with the top. 

He pauses to gauge your reaction, but you don't let him get far. Tightening your hold on his neck, you bring his mouth back to yours, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss. And god, Steve can kiss. He deliciously explores your mouth, tongue sliding against yours. 

As your hand slides down his neck to his shoulder, opening and closing to knead the muscle, you try to conjure the words to capture this moment, so you can take it out later when the sun is out. But the way his mouth moves has every thought fleeing like a firefly on a summer night trying to escape being caught in a jar. 

Steve takes a few steps towards the bed, taking you with him. The springs of your mattress protest the sudden shift in weight as you climb in together, lying on your sides. 

"Tell me what you want," he says, tucking some hair behind your ear. 

"It's still raining out," you reply, slipping your arms out of your sweater, trading its warmth for his, "I want you to kiss me."

He leans over you, dipping down again and again, languidly tasting, savoring, kissing you like the world could fall down around him and you'd be the only thing that mattered. The cassette tape spins, songs changing from one to the next. For once it doesn't distract you, living fully present in this world instead of the one inside your head. Kissing him back like the billowing clouds, like it's everything, like its art. 

Tugging him by the belt loops, you pull him closer until he's cradled between your thighs, the comforting press of his weight a luxury in itself. When his hardening length hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back, and you're suddenly aware of just how wet you've become. Your hips roll without your permission, chasing the lightning bolt of pleasure. He groans, burying his face in the pillow beside you. 

"Is that okay?" you whisper against his temple stroking his hair.

"It's okay," he says, lifting his head to look at you, "but I'm probably going to um-"

"Me too," you admit shyly.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, studying your face, "For me to make you feel good?"

"Yes, that's what I want."

There's a new urgency to his kiss as his first strokes of his hips steal your breath leading to a frenzy of movements before finding a rhythm, rocking in opposite directions. 

"Just like that," you moan as he grinds his rigid bulge against your core. 

His hand grips your thigh, directing it around his waist, driving the rough denim over the thin material of your yoga pants, increasing the pressure. 

"You're so beautiful. I've wanted to tell you since we met," he whispers, placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

The last song fades into the whirring of the tape deck before it stops completely with a sharp click. Your ears swiftly adjust, sharpening the sound of the falling rain and rumbling thunder. His mouth lingers on the sensitive skin just below your ear, exhales turning into low aughhs in harmony with each thrust. The rise and fall of your chest is getting faster, your stomach tightens with arousal knowing his noises are all for you. Seeking out his mouth, your hips rise off the bed, moving harder with a desperate need to see him come undone.

He smooths your hair back, fingers sliding against your temple, thumb brushing your chin, "Let yourself fall," he kisses just below the curve of your bottom lip, "I'll catch you."

And so you do, and he falls over the edge with you. With a strike of lighting, the world blurs as you float through the clouds, and just like he promised, he catches you with warm lips and gentle touches until you've both come down from the surge. Offbeat plinks of drops hitting metal add another layer to the storm's changing song. 

"You'll have to call maintenance," he says, snaking his arms around your waist, "they probably won't show up until tomorrow. You'd better stay at my place tonight. You know, just in case."

There's a splash of water as Steve's feet hit the floor. "Oh shit," he looks at the floor and then at the french door. A small stream of water has crept its way in from the outside. Steve rolls up towels and places them in front of the door, trying to block the gap while you mop up what you can.

"You might be right," you say, pulling him down for another kiss, "I think the forecast said it's going to rain all night."

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog. It makes a big difference in helping others find my work.

Thanks to the hive. I appreciate all of you.

Graphics by: @superblysubpar

#steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

[spacenintendogs]

modern au ask. What are the gangs personal clothing styles ?

ooooo.... i'm not very fashionable nor am i rlly confident abt my knowledge of styles & stuff so i'm sorry if it's not as creative as it could be :')

hiccup i see a lot of layers, similar to how he dresses in the dreamworks franchise. as he gets older there's more leather since he does a lot of motorcycle riding. flannels, graphic tees, baggier cargo pants & shorts & sneakers are his general go-to. has a nice pair of chucks he brings out once in a while. no piercings but he has a tattoo of toothless' strike class silhouette on one of his shoulder blades.

astrid dresses practically. usually in a pair of jeans or leggings. when she dresses more casually it's basketball shorts with a jersey of some kind. she wears jerseys relatively often too. also shirts she can easily move & breathe in. i think she'd like horizontal stripes for shirts but i might be projecting lol. she's got multiple ear piercings on both ears tho. she also loves her headbands!!! gets a specially made one from tuff & snot with stormfly's spines on it!! steel toed boots.

fishlegs dresses like a hipster. have u seen his moustache in httyd 3?? he's a hipster & he fucking rocks it. also rocks a lot of street styles he's one of the most fashionable of the gang & he is proud of it. he looks great always. gets the tattoos on his arms like he has in httyd 3. he also likes wearing rings!! has a wooden bead bracelet he wears from his older sister. uses stuff like beard oil & is super into skincare. u will catch him with a face mask & cucumbers over his eyes.

snotlout prob goes through the biggest style shift. when he's younger he dresses like the usual high school douchebag, backwards cap & everything. once he's a senior & after he graduates he's more biker style (he does become a biker dude after all). super tight t-shirts that show his boobs lmao. he gets his ears pierced & gets a labret piercing. tattoo sleeve on his right arm of monstrous nightmares entangling around each other. old habits die hard tho so sometimes u catch him with his backwards cap. heeled boots bc he likes to be tall.

ruffnut is so fucking cool u guys. she dresses in a variety of styles, sometimes vastly different day to day but she pulls them all off flawlessly. strong fashion is actually how she & fishlegs bond sometimes (or argue lmao). she's got so many ear piercings & switches out what she has by the day. she does her hair the most elaborately out of the gang, when it's long or short. loves long necklaces & layers them. has her nose pierced too. she has a tattoo of barf going down her calf (tuff has the other half so if they stand next to each other it completes the zippleback!!). her fave pair of shoes tho are her sketchers hiking sandals. let the dogs out!!!

tuff is also so fucking cool, though in a more laid back way compared to ruff. more grungy. ripped jeans from falling off his longboard. old sneakers that have been everywhere. shirts he's had since middle school that may be repurposed to have ripped sleeves or become crop tops. that ugly dress u saw at a thrift store? he's wearing it & fucking looks great. he has his septum pierced and multiple ear piercings (like httyd 3). i also think he'd get snake bites. when he's younger he wears beanies a lot but once he's older he puts his hair up in more elaborate "viking" styles with how he braids. also enjoys tank tops & more frayed looks to shirts in general. has belch tattooed down his calf (ruff has the other half, as stated above).

#httyd #httyd headcanons #httyd modern au #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #fishlegs ingerman #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #rose answers #nightcorecarseatheadrest #thank u!!!! i hope these make sense!!!!! #astor tag #dragons off the coast au

[skyward-floored]

The other day I decided that since I’m in the middle of writing a very long continuation to this whumptober fic here, I wanted to rewrite the original since I think my writing has improved a good deal since then. It was a nice exercise, and fun to tidy up something I wasn’t able to spend much time on initially :) I like it a lot better now lol. Enjoy!

(The original prompts for this were presumed dead, blind rage, and tears)

————————————————————

They can’t find Time and Legend.

Nine heroes step through the portal but only seven come out, Hyrule the last to emerge. Time and Legend should be right behind him, but the portal slips away with an unsteady fizz the moment the traveler stumbles through, no sign of them in sight.

Hyrule falls to the ground with a short gasp, and Four lurches back to just barely catch the traveler, eyes going wide as he finds Hyrule is shaking. Violently.

“S-something was wrong...” he chokes out as he clutches at Four’s sleeve, then falls unconscious.

That was more then three days ago.

There’s been no sign of them.

Their group continues on through the wilderness, holding out hope that maybe Time and Legend were simply thrown in a different spot and they’ve merely been separated. Hyrule is unable to tell them much about what had happened, his confusion obvious, and the mood is grim as they continue to search.

They soon reach a fork in the path they’ve been following, and while Warriors and Twilight argue about which direction to head in, Four hangs back a bit and looks for minish to ask if they’ve seen anyone matching Time or Legend’s description. If anyone would know of their whereabouts, it would be them.

He hasn’t been looking long when Wind suddenly lets out a startled cry from behind him, and Four hears several swords escape their scabbards.

He turns around in the act of unsheathing his own blade, and feels his stomach drop as he sees Dark Link himself appear, an unconcerned smile on his lips.

Multiple arrows and various other projectiles instantaneously whizz towards the shadow, aimed directly for his heart. But they fall harmlessly against a faint red shield that winks into existence, Dark Link unharmed. Hyrule then lunges forwards and slashes at the shield, but is tossed backwards with a shout, crashing into an unfortunate Sky. The rest of the heroes level their swords, but hang back, warily eyeing the barrier.

The Shadow tsks and narrows his eyes as they stand there, that same unnervingly familiar smile on his face.

“Really? Is that all you’ve got?” he chuckles.

“Lower that shield coward, and we’ll give you a fight!” yells Wind, and rest of the heroes shout in agreement.

Dark blinks at them coolly, and his shield grows brighter.

“You heroes are so quick to violence,” he says with an eye roll, examining a nail as Wild snaps off three bomb arrows and they all explode harmlessly against his shield. “I mean really. I merely came here to give you a little information about your missing friends.”

If it was possible for the heroes to become more tense, then they did so now, hands tightly gripping hilts, shields held higher.

“Where are they,” Twilight demands, stormy eyes churning with anger.

Dark Link taps a hand to his chin, meeting the gaze of each of them as he scans the clearing. Four feels as if there’s a rock in his stomach as red eyes that are much too similar to someone else’s meet his own blue-grays, amusement in their shine.

He feels only minutely better when they move on.

“I really couldn’t say for sure...” Dark drawls, pulling something from behind his back. He throws the items on the ground in front of him with a smirk, and someone gasps. “...but if I had to guess, probably the Sacred Realm by now.”

Four leans around to get a better view, but once he sees what the Shadow has dropped, the rock in his stomach turns to ice.

Lying in the grass is Legend’s distinctive blue cap, ripped and stained with bright splots of red. His bracelet lies next to it, as well as a couple of rings Four knows belong to the veteran. A few inches away lies Time’s wedding band, so slick with blood he can barely identify it. Their swords join the pile, also stained with an unhealthy amount of red, and the last item to land is a pale, creamy-colored ocarina.

Legend would never part with his rings or cap willingly, and that goes tenfold for Time’s ring. Four doesn’t know which of them the ocarina belongs to, but the fact that he’s never seen it probably alludes to its importance.

The implications of Dark Link having all of these items is grim, and Four feels a multitude of emotions swirl to life in his head. They’d already begun to lose hope, but this...

Dark begins to speak again and Four has to consciously shove the emotions in his mind back so he can focus on what he’s saying.

“—portal blew them to bits almost instantly,” the Shadow continues, flicking a bit of dirt from his tunic. “I honestly thought it would take more then a bit of dark magic to take down your two most experienced members, but apparently not.”

He shrugs.

“Ah well. They’re dead now. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re lying!” spits Hyrule, with more venom then Four has ever heard from him.

He turns in surprise, and watches with the others as Sky has to physically hold him back from charging at the magical shield again.

“Your magic could never defeat either of them! They’re some of the greatest heroes in the world, and you’re just a coward who refuses to fight us head-on!” Hyrule shouts. “Your magic could never— they can’t be!”

Four watches as Sky tightly grips Hyrule, the younger hero’s eyes bright with angry denial, the older’s dark with worry.

“How do we even know they’re actually dead?” says Wild with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve just stolen their stuff and covered it in blood. Told your dumb portal to spit them somewhere far away from us. We wouldn’t know the difference.”

They all turn to look at the champion, his logic giving them hope. But Dark Link’s eyes flash cruelly, and he grins at Wild.

“Believe me when I say this, little heroes,” he states. “The Hero of Time and the Hero of Legend are dead. My usual portal magic was tampered with, and the resulting whiplash killed them almost instantly.” He glances back at the traveler, still struggling. “But you probably already had a feeling that’s what happened, didn’t you Hero of Hyrule?”

Hyrule stills, and doesn’t meet the Shadow’s eyes, staring at the ground from where he’s bundled in Sky’s arms still.

“Go on, tell them!” laughs Dark Link. “Tell them about how when you went through you only saved yourself, how your magic was too weak to do more!”

Hyrule slumps in Sky’s grip, the anger suddenly gone as his face pales. Four tries to catch his eye, but his head is lowered too far. Dark Link leans closer, and his voice drips with false sympathy.

“I’m sure the Hero of Legend would be so proud,” their Shadow says softly.

Dark Link then smirks over at Twilight, the rancher glowering with anger and terror that’s been growing progressively brighter the longer the Shadow speaks.

“Pity about your mentor as well. He carried quite a few regrets I hear.”

The rancher goes very still, and tenses up even more tightly than before, looking like he’s about ready to either break down into cries or kill a man. Four has a feeling it’s going to be the latter when he lets out an honest-to-goodness snarl.

“That’s enough,” Warriors snaps, face stony. Wind stands next to him, gaze surprisingly level despite everything going on.

“Why are you telling us this?” asks the sailor, voice angry. “Did you just come to gloat?”

Dark Link shrugs. “Maybe I felt like returning your friend’s things out of the kindness of my heart.” Four scoffs along with Warriors at that. “Or maybe I just wanted to be the one to tell you what happened. Maybe I’m just as confused as you are as to what truly happened!”

He shrugs again.

“Either way, you all are extremely fortunate I can’t replicate the magic right now or I would kill you all where you stand,” he sighs, shaking his head. “A pity. But I suppose two in one fell swoop is nothing to scoff at... especially since it wasn’t even my fault.”

He looks directly at Hyrule, then laughs.

“Farewell heroes!”

One last grin shows on his face before he simply disappears with a small flicker of darkness, magic shield and all.

They stare in shocked silence a moment before Twilight lets out a wordless yell and sinks to his knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Silence reigns for several beats, then Hyrule sniffles and Twilight’s eyes crack open. The others turn to look at the traveler, still looking oddly subdued, and Sky pats his shoulder.

“I tried,” Hyrule says, voice thick. “I tried to save them, but I— it took me by surprise, and the magic hurt, and I couldn’t focus enough, there was too much... I thought they were just being pulled somewhere else, and I could only manage enough to get myself through, I didn’t think they were de—”

His voice cracks and he shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry.”

Twilight closes his eyes again and nods wearily, understanding on his face.

“It’s alright ‘rule,” he whispers, voice grieved. “You did what you could.”

Hyrule goes silent, and Sky gives him a hug as Wild begins to speak to Twilight. Four can’t seem to focus on the words, and he watches dully as Warriors goes over to the discarded items on the ground, and begins to clean the blood off. Wind joins him, a hand fisted tightly in his scarf while the other helps him collect the items, but Four doesn’t move from where he’s standing, thoughts whirling so hard he can’t move.

They should figure out what just happened and plan their next steps, but they... they need to wait. The shock is setting in, and they all need to wait to discuss whatever it was that just happened. They need to grieve.

Four lets out a slow, even breath.

They’re really dead.

He sits down heavily on a rock, head swirling with so many emotions that he can only barely hold himself back from grabbing his sword and splitting right then and there.

A tear slips down his cheek as he tries to sort through the stream of consciousness thundering through his mind, fire roaring, ocean crashing, rocks slamming together, with a hurricane at the center of it all. Someone says something close by him but Four can’t reply, afraid if he speaks it’ll come out as a sob.

Legend and Time, both gone. And because of... what even? A portal gone bad? Dark Link’s magic?

Both?

He’s still not sure, and the confusion and emotion and shock all make him feel like he’s going to throw up.

Four’s head falls into his hands, and his shoulders shake as he squeezes his eyes shut, barely aware of the hand that settles on his arm.

They’re really gone.

(...)

Ages away, Dark Link appears in a murky room with a faint flash of magic.

One of the room’s occupants raises his head, the other lying unconscious nearby. His eye is trained steadily at the Shadow as he stalks closer, expression not changing even when a clawed hand grabs his bloodied chin.

“Your little protégé was quite devastated to hear about your death,” Dark states, flicking a bit of dried blood off the man’s face.

Time doesn’t reply.

Dark Link smirks and drops his chin.

“Not in the mood for conversation? Well there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

He grins, though it’s barely visible in the low light, and the Shadow disappears from the cell once again. Time pulls Legend closer once he’s gone, Dark Link’s parting message ringing in his ears and sending a curl of dread up his spine.

“Now that your companions believe you to be dead... we have all the time in the world.”

#wheeee hee hee #linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe fanfiction #tw blood #lu four #lu dark link #lu hyrule #lu time #lu legend #lu chain #all the links #writing from the floor #ohhh I can’t wait until I finish the continuation for this #14086 words and counting 😏

[nymoshopper]

Okay, now imagine these beautiful boys in the summer, the sun shining bright and hot. Everyone skateboarding along the asphalt with fun and laughing.

Johnny has his silky strands of hair slightly longer, long enough to be tied into a ponytail, his short white shorts pulled down just enough so that the entrance to his pelvic bones is visible at the end of his abdomen, his torso completely exposed bringing his enchanting body beauty as well as his irresistible smile, the sleeveless black Ozzy Osbourne shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. He just focused on doing ollie's in risky places and was ahead of the Cobra's, the skateboard full of stickers from Rock bands like Megadeth or Gun's N Roses

Bobby wore folded khaki shorts, a basic tank top, the wind messed up his hair on both sides, black aviator-style sunglasses, the skateboard with designs he himself created as a tag.

Tommy, as he loves attention so much, he imitated Johnny by going without his shirt, his slightly muscular body on display, short reddish Nike shorts, black All Star shoes, a backwards cap covering his hair, balancing on the graffitied skateboard right next to him. from your colleagues - someone else comes by, winking at girls or showing off their biceps.

Jimmy, likes to be calmer and move on the skateboard more peacefully and calmly, wearing jeans and a navy blue shirt, watch on his left wrist and calmer features against the wind.

Dutch he tried to walk doing cool maneuvers, his dyed blond hair in need of touch-ups at the roots, round sunglasses and a bluish cap, a denim jacket with the sleeves raised to the elbow, no shirt, worn denim shorts with deliberate rips made by him, the skateboard well worn with a big middle finger in the center, grumpy Bad Boy features.

#johnny lawrence #billy zabka #william zabka #the karate kid #cobra kai #johnnylawrencekaratekid #DutchTKK #Bobbybrown #Tommy #Jimmy #TKK #OGCobraKai #Johnny

[casgirl]

Its really funny how in high school the butch thing clicked a lot faster for me than the gay thing. I remember being shocked one time when one of the guys on the crew team like said something assuming I was a lesbian. Meanwhile I exclusively wore backwards baseball caps and shirts with the sleeves ripped off.

#the era when my little brother and I looked identical and wore matching outfits

[theyogs]

Favorite outfits on the jar boys? I mentioned this already but i love James in those tight black t shirts but I also think Alex looks SO GOOD whenever hes wearing that one dinosaur shirt… like idk what it is about that dino shirt but…… 😳😳

Also i like it when jamie wears that one red zip up and fingerless gloves :3 he looks soooo cute in fingerless gloves he should wear them more often

GAH i was almost finished typing this snd then tumblr crashed..

but yes jamie’s red hoodie and fingerless gloves makes me crazzyyyyyyyyy. i love when he’s wearing ripped jeans too i think they’re so cuteeee on him :3 he looks very cute just in a plain white tshirt too. also he was built to wear beanies beanies look soooo perfect on him

alex looks good in anything but i love when he wears that grey (or lilac idk i’m bad at identifying colours) hoodie….. whenever he has that gay ass backwards cap too is GAH perfect i loveee that stupid hat. lightwash denim also is one of my faves that suits him so well :3 i also love when he’s just in some random ass cosy looking outfit :3 i love cosy boys so much

james i love his kmfdm shirt Because waow he is just like me :) also sweatpants he looks soooo good in sweatpants no matter the colour.. i like when his trousers are a little too short and his ankles are showing i want to take a bite out of him also i love when he doesn’t have shoes on and his socks are on show not for perverted reasons (half true) also this doesn’t really count as an outfit but james in this video is so perfect so i’m counting it as an outfit

i can’t think of any specific instance of any of them wearing this but Any of them in a Huge short sleeved shirt would be For Me Specifically i love oversized short sleeved shirts so mcuh

tldr jar wardrobe Good

#asks #posdacted #i hope i remembered everything i was going to say

[sturmhondsdemjin]

Six part three

Henry on horseback is nothing new. Henry in full polo gear—the helmet, the polo sleeves capped right at the bulge of his biceps, the snug white pants tucked into tall leather boots, the intricately buckled leather knee padding, the leather gloves—is familiar. He has seen it before. Categorically, it should be boring. It should not provoke anything visceral, carnal, or bodice-ripping in nature in him at all.

But Henry urging his horse across the field with the power of his thighs, his ass bouncing hard in the saddle, the way the muscles in his arms stretch and flex when he swings, looking the way he does and wearing the things he’s wearing—it’s a lot. He’s sweating.

It’s February in Connecticut, and Alex is sweating under his coat.

Worst of all, Henry is good. Alex doesn’t pretend to care about the rules of the game, but his primary turn-on has always been competence.

“I don’t like that look,” Amy says when they reach the bottom of the stands, peering into his eyes. “You look … sweaty.”

“I’m gonna go, uh,” Alex says. “Say hi to Henry.” Amy’s mouth settles into a grim line.

“Please don’t elaborate.”

“Yeah, I know,” Alex says. “Plausible deniability.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

“Sure.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Yep.”

“Enjoy your summit with the English delegation,” she tells him flatly, and Alex sends up a vague prayer of thanks for staff NDAs.

He turns on his boot heel and leads the way around the back of the stables, veering right into a doorway, and Alex follows. It’s a small, windowless room attached to the stables, fragrant with leather polish and stained wood from floor to ceiling, the walls lined with heavy saddles, riding crops, bridles, and reins.

“What in the rich-white-people-sex-dungeon hell?” Alex wonders aloud as Henry crosses behind him. He whips a thick leather strap off a hook on the wall, and Alex almost blacks out.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be anywhere near Kensington anytime soon?”

“That shithole?” he says with a wink. “Not if I can help it.”

“Oi,” Henry says. He’s grinning now. “That’s disrespect of the crown, that is. Insubordination. I’ve thrown men in the dungeons for less.”

Alex turns, walking backward toward the car, hands in the air. “Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

#sturmhond reads #red white and royal blue #history huh? bet we could make some (book) #cornbread knows what i have done (book) #when alex said what in the rich-white-people-sex-dungeon hell? -- me too bud me too

[otterant]

. ✧ . * . ⌜ nico hiraga, twenty-three, cismale, he/him / falling by harry styles + the soft thump thump thump of a skateboard’s wheels traveling across corridor stone, a dank herbal smell clung tight to wrinkled shirts, and trying to make a leap year out of your birthday for fear of growing up.⌟ hey, have you met ANTHONY “ANT” OTTERBURN yet? they’re a FIFTH YEAR at hogwarts and are a HUFFLEPUFF. makes sense given they tend to be a bit RELAXED and UNSERIOUS. it seems the death of the boy who lived has placed them on the NEUTRAL side of the looming war. let’s just hope they make it out alive.

tw: drug use, intense guilt, potential drug/alcohol abuse, death mention

full name: anthony 'ant' kei otterburn

date of birth: october 17th

star sign: libra

place of birth: cork, ireland

family: gin otterburn (father), brigitte stump (mother), esme otterburn (younger sister, npc)

sexual orientation: dislikes labels, very much an open-minded individual.

religion: atheist.

tattoos: countless at this point, but some standouts are: a little ghost ripping a bong near his right elbow, a 'meh' face in his ear, a fish riding a bike on his left thigh, a frog failing at skateboarding on his left ribcage, and a leafy sleeve down his right arm.

style: vintage shirts with stains that haven't been magic'ed away yet, a beanie present regardless of weather, white socks stretched past the ankle, black and white vans, a jean jacket one size too big, a second jean jacket spattered with various patches, beaten converse, flannel shirts always worn open, an array of solid colored hoodies, dad jeans with rips at the knees, questionable dad caps.

the soft thump thump thump of a skateboard’s wheels traveling across corridor stone, the pain of tattoo needle and for no added meaning, assignments turned in perpetually late, a dank herbal smell clung tight to wrinkled shirts, a false feeling of home, dad caps turned backwards, cat hair clinging to jeans rolled twice at the hem, escaping to the roof of the tallest tower and ignoring the fearful beat in your chest, growing unsanctioned plants in the back of your dormitory closet, forever kicking your feet up, putting blinders on for prophet headlines, and trying to make a leap year out of your birthday for fear of growing up

let's get the important part out of the way first— anthony couldn't remember the last time anyone had called him by his given name aside from three occasions: 1) the first role call in class, 2) anything to do with the ministry, and 3) when he went had put himself into trouble, earning a tongue lashing from his mother. those aside, he was ant. a small few called him otto, a riff off his family name but regardless it was always a nickname.

but back to before the very start, his parents had been hogwarts sweethearts, finding each other officially in their third year and, well, making that history. they weren't a perfect couple by any means but they loved one another, still do, and created a happy home for their two children to grow up in.

a happy, regular, standard, perfectly fine childhood... up until his sister never displayed any signs of magic. esme and anthony had been a set of irish twins, close from the very start. but things started to splinter when ant had his first case of accidental magic and hers never came. a long lists of incidents confirmed ultimately by a lack of hogwarts letter on her part. she'd taken off to america instead, a fracture turned continents wide. it wasn't that they didn't like each other anymore, or that they argued... there had just become this painful sense of different. and for ant a sense of guilt.

ant had learned early into his hogwarts career, thanks to some upperclassmen, how to get out of his head about everything. so those that knew him early, might've remembered his quieter era, but come late second year onward, ant had become both a relaxed individual and someone constantly placing himself into trouble. funny how occupying your thoughts with escape routes and a mary jane haze affected things.

likely absentmindedly, the hufflepuff found himself drawn to activities more muggle, less magic. he liked plants because it reminded him of his mother's garden, (and other reasons). he picked up skateboarding from his neighbor, now prone to skate through the hallways, travelling from class to class. and most of his tattoos were even muggle, save the frog— that one he gotten magic'ed on after losing some stupid bet. funny, he didn't even remember what it'd been about now, yet the frog was there, and would remain.

with the incoming war, it's not that ant doesn't believe it's happening, it's that he'd like to forget it is. like, fuck, merlin forbid he's allowed to have some time to enjoy himself (especially if dying is supposedly on the table). and clearly none of them were safe if harry potter was one of the first casualties. he'd been fortunate enough to not have been in the stands at the time, having dipped during the long wait to take a fews puffs in a dark corner under the structure. in fact, he didn't understand what had happened until hours later in the common room. he thought he misheard, that the weed had tangled things but... no. three guesses what he did after that. it's why ant is the person to go to if you need an escape. he's in his twenties, he wants to act and exist like he's in his twenties. he didn't remember signing up for a war when he came to school.

came into hogwarts pet-less, but was graced by the cat distribution system. really, he's not sure who could have lost their cat with everyone around, especially with the posters he'd posted to follow, but somehow, that ginger cat wound up in his dormitory, on his bed for some reason that one tuesday morning. And he just never left. elmer continues to be a loving pain in his ass to this day.

operates mostly on a 'why not' mentality, which is what led to him on the quidditch team as a beater. it's not something he wants to pursue professionally, something he hardly takes seriously at this level, but his buddy needed a partner and ant was always the sort to answer the call.

seriously, he'll try and fail right alongside you. not one of his friends ends up in detention alone without him. and injuries? if not earned by him solely, you bet he's matching. he goes along with things, as if he's got something to make up for.

… as usual...... still figuring out more cause he's a new muse. any gaps/questions, feel free to ask!!

general connection ideas: best friends, friends, ex-friends, pseudo siblings, childhood/family friends, classmates, stoner buddies, party friends, flirtationship, exes, fwb, one night stand, one-sided crush, old crush, enemy, annoyance, good influence, skateboarding friends, his sister's friends/exes/connections, extended fam… others that i cannot think of

[ PINTEREST ]

#fhqsintro #intro #about #bio

[furrbbyx]

I’m missing spoopy season

So here’s a throwback to the writing prompt: Dare. A young group of friends ends up daring one member too far.

SFW violence and gore. Mention of being eaten alive. Talk about cannabis use.

About 2k words

Isn't this how every horror movie starts? I think to myself before pushing my heavy deadlocks back from my sweating face.

I'm pretty sure there's an unspoken rule among Black people that we don't do stupid dares that end us up in the cemetery at night!

Yet here I was huffing in the suddenly cool and misty air. I was trying not to let the frantic beat of my heart and the sweat sticking my shirt to my back distract me from the object of my dare.

It was hard though.

Just 30 minutes before I had been out with my unruly group of friends sitting on some fallen over logs around a very illegal fire in the woods behind Timnit Jackson's house. Jacelyn, Avery and 'Quan were there too. After our first year in college we'd come back home fore the summer and met up at our usual haunts. For weeks we'd been stalking through the town lamenting the boredom and how we'd outgrown our little town.

So tonight we'd been reckless. Avery had stolen some alcoholic seltzers from the corner store and I had brought a little cannabis. We rolled, smoked, drank, and complained. And then the dares started.

At first it was little things like guzzling the seltzers. That had been a terrible idea but at least we'd all laughed as a gush of fizzy vomit spilled out of Timnit and tears streamed down their eyes as they coughed.

Then the boys had gotten into a contest of strength and athleticism that had me Jacelyn and Timnit hyping them up way too much. They'd actually gotten into a fight over pushups!

After they'd calmed down and we'd all grabbed another drink Jacelyn looked to me.

"I know you got more tree right Chioma?"

I scoffed. "Nah. I only swiped a little before Mike got home. I don't want no smoke. I said holding my hands up to my chest"

"Yeah but we do" Avery laughed.

"Well then you go get it" I sneered

"Fuck it." 'Quan burped then tossed his empty into the fire pit. "We got drinks at least. And I'm high as hell anyway. That's the only reason I lost the push-up dare." He slurred and sent a belligerent look toward Avery.

We all hollered

"Stop the cap, man"

"Aint no way"

"Bruhhhh"

"shiii"

"What?!" he stamped a foot. He ripped up the sleeve of his shirt to show us his thickly muscled arm. "You try me when I'm sober man, you know you ain't got nothin on me" 'Quan slapped his arm for emphasis.

"Whatever Bruh. Sit down with all that!" said Avery.

Timnit rose to their feet taking off their soaked shirt to hang it on a stick jammed into in the ground next to the fire. 'Quan watched them and weaved a bit on his feet.

"Uh here" He untied the flannel around his waist and handed it to Timnit.

Jacelyn and I exchanged looks as Timnit pulled the shirt on over their modest chest binding.

Both of them sat back down and 'Quan watched them roll the sleeves up their slender arms

"Thanks man" Timnit said with a half smile.

"it's cool" "Quan said unable to look away. 'Quan was a really sweet person. The type that always did nice things, and acted like people mattered even if he'd just met them. He was sensitive and empathetic even if he could be bullish and swaggered too much. I blamed his parents who were firm but also worshiped the ground he walked on because he was their only child. He looked like a total dick in a backwards cap college tshirt and jeans with fucking flip flops like a white person, though.

Jacelyn's clear voice rung out in the night

"Well who's gonna dare me? Or are we over this baby game"

With the attention on her the awkward crushy-ness of the night dissipated.

"Girl, this aint no baby game" Timnit said. "You just mad we can't smoke more. So I dare you to go get some more from Mike!"

"Aww no way!" Jacelyn booed. "Mike is an asshole. How that junior even get the tree anyway Chioma? He pushin' now?"

I shrugged "I don't ask him nuthin, that's his business. I just take a little off the top now and then. Sister tax." I giggled.

"Well that's the dare." Timnit said smugly. "Don't be a baby"

"I'm not!" Jacelyn whined "Their house is like two blocks away. What? You want me to walk there and come back"

We all murmured and shrugged. It was kind of a bad dare

"sounds like sumthin a baby would say" Timnit dug in. I admired their boldness and guessed maybe they wanted to smoke a bit more too. Or maybe they were just a bit insulted because the game had been their idea.

We were all drunk and hyped enough to do just about anything that night. Anything to make the mundane suburbs feel like the intense days and nights at our universities. The constant stimulus had us feeling some type of way about the place we'd grown up.

We made a plan to go with Jacelyn as she raided my house for Mike's stash. Honestly I don't know why I was going to watch my friend do this dare, it was my house so I probably should have volunteered.

We kicked dirt over the fire until a few embers remained, each of us grabbed another seltzer out of the box before Avery yeeted it into the woods behind us as we left.

'Quan was carrying Timnit's dirty shirt. Jacelyn and I giggled and sent meaningful looks to 'Quan who dragged a hand across his neck in warning. That boy had it bad and Timnit was in their own world.

I wondered if 'Quan was going to make a move as we walked out of the woods and into the sidewalk. We were way too loud for midnight in the suburbs but thankfully in this mostly Black neighborhood no one was going to call the cops on a bunch or rowdy neighborhood kids.

I looked back at him following Tinmit like a puppy and thought he was probably way too shy despite the drinks and herb.

Jacelyn was on her phone no doubt trying to keep up with her socials. She snapped a few pics and videos then moved on to scrolling instagram stories which blared out harsh noises. She laughed and leaned over to share one with Avery. Jacelyn and Avery were the tallest in the group. Jacelyn always knew the trends and dressed like it. She had a bone straight sew-in with dramatic baby hairs and definitely could fit in with the mean girls, but she was also very addicted to gaming.

As was Avery. He played sports on and off their field. He'd actually gotten a scholarship that way and now played soccer almost as seriously as a major league athlete. His tall frame didn't seem powerful until you watched his explosive power during a game. Usually though he was just another brownish face dressed like all the other kids in a plain tee, joggers, vans and a gold necklace.

Tinmit and I were the weird ones in the group. We'd been very close in high  school, writing terrible fanfiction about our favorite KPOP stans or marvel characters, reading too much fanfiction and dressing in each other's thrifted clothes. But of course things changed. Timnit applied to a different school entirely. It had broken our friendship a little bit. I think it was harder for them to imagine going to a regular university after they came out. I hadn't been able to really see past my feelings of betrayal. But I was glad we were still hanging out, and I think they were relieved that I wasn't still furiously angry. I was actually happy because they seemed to have really blossomed in the year at her liberal university. The sported the cutest mustache and dressed like a total art hoe in baggy cargo pants belted with a crocheted length of yarn.

Then there was me in all black. The goth of the group. Every group needs one.

We kept walking and laughing loudly until someone stopped and we all looked around. Across the street was the town cemetery. The huge iron gate usually stood closed at this time of night but they were wide open with pale mist shimmering and floating over the graves and the dark shadowed mausoleum on a hill.

"Eyyy" Jacelyn crooned. "I think I have the perfect dare for Chioma"

I barked a laugh "No way"

"Whaaat" she whined "I haven't even said what it is. I was just gonna say you should go up there in that mausoleum."

"NO way" I said again and started walking.

"Her scary ass ought to go up there." Avery chimed in "That's where your people are." He wiggled his fingers trying to be spooky.

I wasn't amused.

"I mean, they right. You can't be afraid of ghosts right? Since you always dress like you're going to a funeral"

"Fuck you!" I spat at 'Quan and stomped across the street in my huge black platfom boots.

I wasn't really afraid...well I mean I probably didn't need to be afraid right? Whoever was in that big limestone building was probably long dead and all I would find would be darkness and quiet and maybe some old flowers. And the sooner I finished this stupid dare the sooner we'd watch Jacelyn try to steal some herb off of my little brother.

But after I stepped through the open gate the summer air started to cool down and the mist seemed to thicken around my feet. I glanced back at my friends to flip them off before marching up the hill past other graves.

Was it getting a little darker too? I started to sweat but it was just because the hill was so steep and I was drunk, I told myself.

There were no lights in the cemetery and truly it got darker and seemed more claustrophobic the further away from the road I got. I caught the whiff of something burning as I raised my head. to look at the monument to death. A candle? Maybe I actually wouldn't find a dark room, maybe I'd stumble onto some dark ritual I thought with a bit of bravado that was belied by the goose flesh that suddenly rand down my arms and stomach.

As I walked closer I definitely felt that something wasn't right. But I was close. I just had to walk inside and my friends would be satisfied. And if I saw some satanists sacrificing an animal and writing runes in blood I could turn tail and run!

I could smell melted candle wax now as I slowly approached the door. I didn't want to hear the jeers from my friends so I didn't look back down the hill. I crept the to doorway. rubbing my cold arms. It was so dark inside it took a second for my eyes to adjust from the moonlight. The small room looked normal until I was finally able to make out the huge stone coffin pushed to the back.

As if something had pushed it. Because there were gouges in the floor just outside of the moonlight leaking in, and the top of the coffin was angled off  laying partially on the ground I saw remnants of a candle with wax and burn marks and then over the sound of my beating heart I heard a gurgle.

A fleshy riiiip.

A loud popping snap.

To my left in the shadows immediately inside the door lay a body in a shimmering black puddle of blood. It was only a puddle because nearly all of the blood was splashed on the wall beside it.

"What the fuck!?" I hissed

Teal green, glowing eyes snapped up to me out of the darkness. A hunched figure over the bloodied maimed body only a foot away.

I turn to run with a gasp and inescapably strong claws grasped my ankle bringing me to the ground before I could even run two steps. I screamed and clutched the door frame while kicking out at the creature's head. It yanked me viciously into the dark mausoleum braking nails and dislodging and arm from its socket.

I screamed again! Someone was coming right?! My friends wouldn't leave me to die!?

I cried and tried to fight the thing off as it struck at my arms and face with it's claws

"NO!"

"NO!" My flesh was torn by its claws becoming useless as bright bone glistened through on nasty gash. I still struggled until I caught the sight of its face in the dim light.

Sunken ashy skin stretched tightly over a the bones of its head showing the nose holes where the nose had fallen away and gnashing grotesque lip-less mouth. The eyes only cold light in the empty sockets of the face. I tried to breath to scream again in the same moment the creature reached down and ripped open my belly.

I nearly passed out at the pain and the feeling of its hand digging through my organs. I watched gasping mutely as it stuffed a length of my intestine into its maw already stained with ichor from the first body.

My head lolled to the side and my eyes rolled back.

This was a nightmare right?

My body jerked as it eviscerated another organ. I was slipping away quickly but I tried to open my mouth and call out for help. The gurgling sound of voice, like the gurgle I had heard early only alerted the beast  and it scrambled up my body. Took hold of my neck in its teeth and ripped out my throat meat.

As my vision faded I watched the horrible ghoul chewing and swallowing messily before it went after the skin on my cheeks and carved out an eyeball.

I twitched as my brain and body tried to fulfill the last commands of my panic, still tried to runaway from the my fate.

What a stupid dare.

NOTES on this prompt:

I pushed myself to write a lot more than usual and I think it was a good exercise even though I don't usually write horror or gore. So I hope it reads in a very creepy scary way.

#MDNI #orginal work #gore #ghoul #supernatural

[oneelleshry]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sheath Dress.

[rebelwrites]

They Love You

Clay Spenser x Reader

Requested by @galaxysanduniversesinmymind - “I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

Letting yourself into Clay’s apartment, he had gone radio silent for the last hour and a half and you were stressing about getting to the restaurant on time for your grandmother’s birthday meal.

“Nope,” You heard Clay growl, “Not good enough,”

“Clay baby,” You shouted, walking through the apartment, “You ready?”

“Urm,” He sighed, as you appeared in the doorway.

You smirked as you took in his appearance, the blalck sweatpants, hanging low on his hips, and cap backwards on his head, and topless.

“Fuck , you look,” He said pausing, “Fucking gorgous, that dress damn.” Clay didn’t get flustered often but when you got dressed up for an occasion he was left breathless, he always thought you looked good, no matter if you were in your pajamas and no makeup or fully dressed up. “I know I should have been ready by now, but I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half,” He sighed, running his fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants “I knew you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

His voice was quiet as he admitted he was feeling a bit self conscious. This was Clay, the man full of confidence, but not today and that made your heart hurt.

“I mean, you could go like that,” You hummed, running your fingers down his chest, “I won’t complain, but I think you might give Grandma a heart attack.”

“I just don’t know what to wear,” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours, “I know it needs to be smart, but nothing I pick is working, or is too tight and not suitable for a posh restaurant”

“Baby, don’t stress,” You whispered.

“I have only met your parents a handful of time, and now I am meeting the whole family,” Clay whispered, “I just want to make a good impression, and want them to think more of me than a frogman”

“Clay, my baby, they fucking love you okay, and I know the rest of my family will as well.” You whispered before kissing him softly, “They all see the man I have fallen in love with, yes they respect you for being in the Navy but when they see us together they see the man you are, the one that showers me with love and will do anything for me.”

Running your fingers along his arms, you held him for a little bit more kissing him again, before you went to the wardrobe, running your fingers over his shirts, before finally deciding on going classic.

“Right wear this,” You smiled, passing him the crisp white shirt and his black suit trousers. “Do not moan its too tight for the restaurant because lets face it all your shirts are tight because of them fucking arms.” You giggled, “But roll your sleeves up.”

Leaning against the wall, you watched as he got ready, your mouth watering even more as he rolled his sleeves up on the shirt, the material pulling tight on his arms as he moved. If it wasn’t the fact it was your Grandma’s 80th birthday you would have blown the meal off and spent the night, tangled in the sheets with your boy.

“What?” He laughed, as he took his cap off, tossing it on the bed.

“Nothing, just admiring my hot as fuck boy,” You said with a seductive smile on your face. “If it wasn’t for who tonight was for, I'd be getting you in bed.”

“You and me both,” He winked, as he looked up from putting his dress shoes on. “Just so you know this dress is going to drive me wild all night, the way it hugs every part of you, the way it makes your boobs look, just everything about it is driving me crazy.”

“Come on, lets make a move before we rip each other's clothes off,” You giggled.

“That will be later, babygirl,” He winked, making you feel weak at the knees.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace

#Clay Spenser #clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #clay spenser oneshot #seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine #seal team oneshot

[disordersgirl]

[id: a digital fullbody of avenger chuck from chuck e cheese. he is standing with one hand in his pocket, facing right and looking left. he is smiling and holding a mountain dew game fuel can. he is wearing a black t shirt with longer white striped sleeves underneath, a belt with a chain, and ripped jeans. he is also wearing a purple backwards cap and has a black heart dotted on his cheek. the background is lavender. /end id]

woo eboy chuck agenda hours

#orig post got messed up so repost hours ig #this was such a pain to draw and color #avenger chuck #drew him a lil closer 2 canon than usual hope u like or w/e #cec #chuck e cheese #showbiz ent #showbiz pizza #madokart

[hidiingplace]

TODD REBANE + FASHION.

click photos for comments.

shirts & jackets. Todd wears a variety of clothing for different seasons given that he lives in NYC which experiences all 4 seasons. His favourite go to look is a loose fitting tank top with stretched sleeves. Usually his tanks will have some sort of text or monogram on them, but there are times when they’re plain as well. These styles of shirts show off one of the few things Todd likes about himself: his tattoos and his physique. in the winter, Todd often sports a leather or winter jacket like this one. Things like scarfs are also usually added on for extra warmth. Because he’s been out in the cold, freezing before, he always dresses for the weather.

pants. Todd has very thick thighs and muscled legs ( physique HC here ) and due to that, he generally tries to find pants that have a lot of room in this area. pants like joggers and ripped jeans are his go-to’s because they provide a little extra room for movement in the thigh region (joggers from their fit/cut and ripped jeans because of the rips/worn material). Even with this, his pants often fit a little tighter than they should be. Because of his extra thigh space, he often ends up buying pants that are too long for him, and due to his shorter stature, there’s often extra material at the bottom. Sometimes Todd will take a pair of scissors to his jeans to cut the extra length off which ends up giving them a cropped, rugged feel. 

shoes. as a general rule, Todd tends to wear really worn out skater shoes. Brands like Vans are a good example of the type of shoe he wears, but given his somewhat limited means he doesn’t invest in brand new shoes or brandname shoes unless he has no real choice! They’re often worn in, dirty, scraped up, and sometimes falling apart. He doesn’t really seem to mind. He will also tend to wear these shoes in winter months because winter boots are really expensive. His father has given him an old pair of winter boots, but honestly, they fit him too big. He’s more comfortable being on his feet all day in shoes and sometimes favours the comfort over the warmth. Plus, living in NYC the sidewalks are generally ice and snow free.

accessories. Todd does not wear jewellery save for his fox necklace ( HC on this here ) so his accessorizes in other ways. Todd likes to tie jackets and ‘over coats’ around his waist. He tends to have a good amount of plaid shirts that he wears in the fall but when he gets too hot they often end up at his waist. Sunglasses are usually a must when he’s outside –– in all weather. In part this is due to the fact Todd has blue eyes, which have a harder time absorbing light. Instead of squinting all the time he just plops these bad boys on. These also help conceal the bags under his eyes and how blood-shot his eyes might be from either smoking weed or insomnia. It’s not often he’s without a pair while outside. All his sunglasses are dollar store ones because he breaks them so often it’s a waste of money to pay a lot. hats are another thing Todd wears, particularly when his hair is longer. If it’s a base ball cap, it’s always backwards (pictured here), when it’s a winter hat, it’s more often than not a beanie (as pictured above), and occasionally when he’s feeling ‘fancy’ he’ll steal one of his father’s more fashionable hats (pictured here). 

some extra facts about Todd’s outfits:

• Todd’s not a fancy dresser, so it’s rare to see him ‘dressed up’. If he’s going to dress up, it’s going to be in his jeans a t-shirt and a suit jacket. It’s the best you’ll get. • He tries to wear orange accents as much as possible because it’s his favourite colour and goes well with his hair and skin tone (obviously), but he generally ends up in mostly black.  • His shirt’s are generally really long on him because he’s much shorter than your average man. • His clothes are well worn and if there’s anything he doesn’t fit in anymore he will donate it or gift it to a friend. 

#todd rebane ( general ). #todd rebane ( aesthetic ). #todd rebane ( fashion ). #todd rebane ( headcanon ).

[this-is-moony-lovegood]

Nat’s Plan (Part 1/2)

Summary: When a recon mission in Lagos goes sideways, Sam and Bucky have to find a creative way to slip away from terrorist agents without causing another international incident. To do so, Bucky suggests they use one of Natasha’s old plans that helped her and Steve dodge HYDRA agents back in 2014. In other words, I can’t help my obsessive need to write about the kiss-to-hide-in-plain-sight trope for Sambucky.

Word Count: 2.9k

Link to AO3

Lagos, Nigeria - 2024

The last time Sam Wilson was in Lagos, was eight years ago in 2016. He, Steve, Nat, and Wanda were on a mission to get a bioweapon out of the hands of Brock Rumlow and his merry gang of ex-Hydra agents which should have been successful. Technically, it was successful - minus the international incident that ensued when Steve didn’t clock a bomb vest and Wanda accidentally blew up a building trying to stop the blast. Maybe semi-successful was a more appropriate word.

Regardless of Sam’s interpretation of the events, the US government and SWORD took extra time and care to warn Sam, Torres, and specifically Bucky Barnes that this trip to Lagos was meant to be incident-free. No super suits, no guns, no knives, no weapons of any kind unless absolutely necessary.

After everything with John Walker over the past few months, Sam thought it was a good idea for Captain America to not go in guns blazing. Yes, they were trying to stop a new terrorist cell, but if Sam could use this trip to gather intel that would help stop them without exposing the Nigerian people to even more threats, then that would appease the government and his conscience.

For the most part, everything had been going swimmingly. No one had recognized them, they were working incredibly well as a team, and had easily slipped inside the terrorist HQ due to Torres’ ease of hacking into the security cameras, and Bucky’s innate ability to knock people unconscious with ease. Bucky and Sam had even managed to make it through the mission without bickering (at least, not more than the usual acceptable amount).

See, everything was great. Was being the keyword, because, after five minutes of trying to hack the cell’s computer to retrieve the data they needed on their upcoming attacks, Bucky got a little too impatient and accidentally tripped an alarm.

Sam groaned and threw his head back, “You’ve got to be shitting me. You’re the ex-assassin, aren't you supposed to be the stealthy one?”

“An ex-assassin with a metal arm who used to not give a fuck about who saw him coming. I didn’t have to be stealthy as the Winter Soldier, Sam. I just took what I had to and killed anyone who got in my way.” Bucky replied, ripping the flash drive out of the PC the second the last file transferred over. Sam sighed, watching the wave of guilt washing over the soldier’s features.

“Don’t start.” He added, holding up a hand to shush the former PTSD support group leader. “This is not the time for a therapy session.”

Lying, Sam began, “I wasn’t gonna-”

“Yeah, you were. Now, let’s get outta here.” Bucky said, motioning for Sam to follow him over the door.

“Hold on, Cap, let me get the wings, and your suit. I’ll be there ASAP.” Joaquín called over their coms. Sam could hear a rustling in the background like he was tripping over items as he rushed for the wings. Sam knew he had been itching to use them but now was not the time.

“No, stay where you are.” Sam insisted, physically holding his hands out as if he could touch Joaquín. “No suits, no wings, we can handle this.”

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause according to these cams I hacked, you two are severely outnumbered.”

“He’s got a point, Samuel,” Bucky said, reaching for his gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans. Sam reached out, holding onto Bucky’s right wrist. 

“No guns.” Sam’s eyes darted to Bucky’s metal hand inching towards his knife holster, “Or knives. Not yet.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “then what’s the plan, Cap? Cause you know I hate to admit that the kid is right.”

“A kid that outranks you.” Annoyance flashed across Bucky’s face at Joaquín’s quip, and before he could snap back Sam immediately stepped in by saying, “Alright, Torres use those cameras and find us a route out of this building. If we get out of here first, then we can go from there.”

“On it.” Sam could hear the rapid clicking of keys against Torres’ keyboard, before he said, “Head down that hallway and take the first door on your left.”

With Joaquin’s directions, they two made their way out of the building, only having to fight a few agents (which the partners easily took care of without weapons), but unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones with access to the cameras. More agents were hot on their tails as they burst out one of the side doors. Sam and Bucky took off running, cutting through side streets until they slipped into the crowd at the marketplace.

“We’ve gotta blend in,” Bucky said, immediately stripping off his jacket as they walked, and dumping it on the back of a chair outside a small food stand. Sam couldn’t help but admire the way his flesh and metal arms flexed as the super-soldier revealed that black t-shirt that hugged his chest and biceps in the best possible way. He quickly swallowed, before averting his eyes ahead, only to catch Bucky swipe a pair of sunglasses off a merchant table.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Sam said, gripping Bucky’s army to stop him in his tracks. “You can’t just steal shit, Buck.”

“Now is not the time to lecture,” Bucky said, looking over his shoulder, to see a few agents following them, eyes scanning rapidly scanning the crowd. “We need to hide in plain sight. Dressing like the locals is our best shot to do that.”

“Find another way, besides stealing,” Sam said, taking off his black baseball cap and quickly setting it on a kid’s head that ran while chasing after his friend.

“Fine, hand me your wallet,” Bucky said, extending his metal hand. Sam rolled his eyes before stopping briefly and begrudgingly gave his wallet to the super-soldier. “Good, now take off your jacket.” Without hesitation, the captain slid out of his jacket and tossed it over to Bucky.

Sam watched as Bucky quickly ducked over to an open clothing stall, and greeted a local merchant woman in Yoruba, a smirk spreading across his face as he pointed at a few clothing items and then pointed in Sam’s direction. The woman smiled brightly looking back and forth between the two of them as Bucky handed over a few bills from the wallet along with Sam’s jacket for a short-sleeve button-up shirt with a blue geometric print, a Nigerian football polo, and two brightly colored baseball caps. Bucky said something else quickly, causing the woman to giggle while she placed one of the caps on his head and pinched his cheek.

The entire exchange probably lasted no more than thirty seconds, but Sam couldn’t help but be enthralled in the moment. First, Bucky knew Yoruba? How many languages did he learn as the Winter Soldier? Second, what exactly did he say to that woman to get her light up like a Christmas tree? What did Bucky tell her about him?

“What did you say to her?” Sam asked as Bucky approached quickly.

“I’ll tell you later,” Bucky replied, tossing the polo in Sam’s direction and placing a blue and pink cap on his own head. “Put that on.”

As they continued weaving their way through the crowd, Sam slipped the polo on over his t-shirt. The shirt was a bit snug, hugging his chest tightly. What the hell had Bucky bought him? “Looking good, Samuel,” Bucky said, giving him a once over with a glint in his eyes and a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth. He then threw the button-up over his own short-sleeve shirt (which he didn’t bother to button) and set the other cap on Sam’s head backward. “There you go, now you look like a real local.”

“You know that was one of my favorite jackets that you gave away.”

“Don’t like the shirt I just bought you? I think it suits you. Shows off all those shield throwing muscles.”

“You mean the shirt I just bought me?”

“Semantics.”

“Where are you guys?” Joaquín’s voice called over their earpieces once more.

“Blending in.” Bucky’s smile faded, as he responded. “I count six agents trying to track us. What does the bird say?”

“Redwing,” Torres began, and Bucky could sense the sass rolling off his tongue, “shows six behind you, and six approaching from the front.”

Immediately Bucky stopped them in their tracks and scanned the crowd ahead of them. Sure enough, he could make out six familiarly dressed agents scanning the crowd for them. “Fuck.” Bucky cursed, “Come on.” Before Sam could react, Bucky had grabbed his hand and pulled them into a small alley between two buildings. He had been hoping they could sneak through onto another side street, but no, the alley was a dead-end into another building. “Damnit.” Bucky dropped Sam’s hand, and Sam nearly sighed at the loss of contact.

Bucky groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I think it’s time for guns, Sam.”

“Do you see how many people there are out there? They will all be caught in the crossfire. Do you really want that?” Of course, Bucky didn’t want that. Sam knew - hell was there for - the nightmares Bucky experienced because of people becoming collateral damage for the Winter Soldier. He’d been there to talk Bucky through the aftermath of them when he was willing to talk and fix a cup of coffee or hot tea when he wasn’t. The pain and guilt in his eyes for something he had no control over… that look alone hurt Sam, he couldn’t even imagine how much it hurt Bucky. No, he would not allow Bucky to feel that pain any more than he already was - you know, on top of not harming the civilians. “We need an alternative plan.”

“They’ll be approaching you in about forty-five seconds, Cap. What’s the plan?”

“I have an idea,” Bucky said, looking up at Sam, a look of uncertainty across his face. “Steve told me once about one of Natasha’s plans that they used years back to slip away from Rumlow and the rest of HYDRA’s agents. It could work.”

“One of Nat’s plans? Hell, it’s got to be good. What is it?”

“Don’t know if you’ll be up for it.”

“Buck, we’ve got twelve bullets and a metal arm between the two of us, and I - and the US government - would like to avoid using any of them if possible. If Nat’s plan doesn’t require using those, I’m down. Does it?”

“No guns, no weapons of any kind actually.”

“Alright, then I’m up for it. What’s the plan?”

“Not a lot of time to explain. Really going to just have to show you.”

“Well, go on with it then.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Do you trust me?” Bucky asked, a question directed only to Sam, sincerity in his eyes. 

Do you trust me? What kind of bullshit question is that? Sam thought. Of course, he trusted Bucky. They’d been going on missions together for months since they stopped the flag smashers and they’ve had each other’s sixes constantly since then. He'd welcomed Bucky into his home to be around his family - and practically live there. Sam Wilson trusted Bucky Barnes with his life, with his family’s lives. No questions about it. Attraction (or deep-seated feelings) aside, how could Bucky not know that by now?

“We don’t have time for this, Buck.” Sam protested, peeking around the corner of the alley to look for the approaching agents.

“I need an answer, Sam.”

“Fifteen seconds, whatever you’re going to do, hurry it up!”

Groaning, Sam said, “Fine, yes, I trust you. Now, will you just-“ Before Sam could finish scolding him, Bucky had swiftly pushed the captain back against the brick wall, and covered his lips with his own. 

Bucky had his metal hand securely on Sam’s hip, while his flesh had cupped Sam’s left cheek simultaneously holding him in place and pulling him as close to the soldier as possible. To say Sam was surprised was an understatement, but it only took him a few seconds to just let go and relax under Bucky’s touch. Bucky’s lips were wet and warm, and moved effortlessly against Sam’s. Sam wasn’t sure what compelled the super soldier to do this, but at that moment Sam didn’t care. This mission at hand and the approaching agents faded from his thoughts as he melted into the kiss he had secretly been waiting for.

Bucky’s tongue swiped across Sam’s lower lip, asking for entrance, which Sam immediately obliged, letting him deepen their kiss. As he did so, Sam roughly fisted the collar of Bucky's new button-down, tugging him forward as he tried to eliminate any distance between the two. Bucky’s flesh hand ghosted down Sam’s neck, then his left arm, and his side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake before it settled under the hem of Sam’s shirt, before settling on his lower back. The touch sent a shiver up Sam’s spine and he let out a small moan, which Bucky easily swallowed with another kiss.

Sam couldn’t remember the last time that he had been kissed like this - so passionate, yet so gentle. In an attempt to make it a little less so, Sam let go of Bucky’s collar and snaked his hands up to the base of Bucky’s neck, and buried his hands as deeply as he could in his short dark locks, giving them a tug. The moan that followed this action, was much louder than Sam’s, and almost resembled a growl. Damn, Sam loved that sound and knew he’d do anything to make Bucky elicit that sound again, and again.

Bucky responded by kissing Sam harder than before, and pushing himself closer to him, settling his body into between Sam’s legs, as he moved to deepen the kiss once more. He gripped Sam’s hips so hard he was sure they were going to bruise, but Sam loved every second of it.

He didn’t know how long they had been like this - seconds, minutes, hours - it didn’t matter. Time had stopped the moment their lips touched, and everything else around them had faded, which is exactly why Bucky had to be the first to pull away - because Sam wouldn’t have dreamed of it.

Bucky had disconnected their lips, but both of his hands lightly rested on Sam’s hips. “Sam,” he breathed, his words barely coming out above a whisper before he swallowed hard.

Sam loosened his grip on the Sergeant’s shirt but still rested his hands against his chest. “What... was... that?” He asked, a bit dazed. He was breathing heavily and his hooded eyes lingering on Bucky’s pink, slightly swollen lips.

After a moment, Bucky responded, “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.” Sam hummed in response, but only because he couldn’t string any other words together. All he was thinking about was that uncomfortable was not the word that he would use to describe what just happened at all. “When I kissed you the agents only looked for a second before turning away and going right past us.” 

When did Bucky have time to look for some damn agents during that fucking unbelievable kiss (more like a make-out session if you asked Sam)? “They did?”

“Yeah.” Sam needed a minute to let the words sink in. The kiss was just a part of a plan. Nat’s plan. A kiss as a distraction/cover. Of fucking course that was a Romanoff plan. A damn good plan, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of thinking that the kiss - that fucking amazing kiss - was supposed to be… strategic. 

For weeks he had been battling over this lingering feeling of wanting something more with Bucky than just a partnership… until this moment of crushing realization, it felt like they had possibly moved to the next step.

Then again, if it was just strategic, why was Bucky still so close to him? He hadn’t made any attempt to move away, still holding Sam against the wall - albeit, without the arousing force he had minutes before.

“Do you think they’re all gone?” Sam asked, loosening his grip just enough for his hand to rest on the sides of Bucky’s neck.

“Probably.”

“But not for certain?” Sam questioned, rubbing his thumbs along Bucky’s strong, stubble-covered jawline, and down his throat. His fingers grazed over Bucky’s pulse point, and he could easily feel the artery pounding beneath the surface.

“Would probably need some more recon to confirm that.”

“Well until then, better to be safe than sorry, right?” Sam dared, doing anything he could to get Bucky’s lips back on his. From the way, the soldier’s heart was racing Sam could only hope that maybe, just maybe, Bucky would want to kiss him again, too.

“Right,” Bucky breathed, and without hesitation, leaned forward once again to kiss Sam, only to be interrupted a minute later, by Torres’ voice in their coms calling for their attention. 

“Cap, Sarge.” This time, when Bucky pulled away he dropped his hands and took a few steps back, instantly putting a few feet between the two partners. The captain silently cursed Joaquin and his incredibly terrible timing. “I’ve got eyes on them, they’re headed back to base. You should be in the clear.”

“Okay, good,” Bucky said, a little too quickly for Sam’s liking. “We should be back at the safehouse in 20 minutes. Gotta run an alternate route just in case we’re being followed.”

“Got it,” Torres said, signing off. 

Bucky quickly removed the earpiece before shoving it deep into his pocket. He looked around the corner, scanning the crowd before motioning for Sam to follow. “Come on, it’s hot as fuck out here, and I need a shower.”

Yeah, me too. A fucking cold one, Sam thought.

#sambucky #james bucky barnes #sam wilson #hiding in plain sight #don't mind me being obsessed with sambucky #my first sambucky fic #is it any good? #falcon and the winter soldier #captain america and the winter soldier #tfatws #fatws