john's wardrobe


Lucy Pevensie - Quvenzhané Wallis

Edmund Pevensie - Jaden Smith 

Susan Pevensie - Amandla Stenberg

Peter Pevensie - John Boyega 

god knows how many hunger tshirts johns gotten from merle just to replenish johns wardrobe since all he has now is his kinda obsolete suit and tie. merle doesnt know when to quit and he even got the others in on giving n sending john tshirts that say shit like “last name hungry first name always”. john is tired and hes only been alive for like two months

Wedding Day

Prompt: How about a Sherlock x Reader where it is the day of their wedding? And Sherlock is really nervous and John and Mary are there to help and loads of fluff? Please and thank you :P

A/N: I hope you like this, it’s late and I am tired!

Sherlock stood in front of a large second story window, looking down at the flurry of activity taking place in the garden. It was a beautiful day and he should have been feeling happy and excited, but the feeling he was currently experiencing could only be described as panic.
“Almost time,” a familiar voice said at the door behind him. He turned to see John standing there, wearing a tuxedo very similar to his own. Only the boutonniere was different. John’s was red, his own was white, which incidentally, was the color of his face.
“Jesus, you look terrible,” John informed him. “Did I look this terrified on my wedding day?”
“This is a mistake, John,” Sherlock said, feeling the perspiration forming under his crisp white collar.
“A mistake? You marrying (Y/N) is a mistake?” John asked, eyes wide.
“No,” he replied, starting to pace the length of the floor. “(Y/N) marrying me is a mistake.”
“I might have to agree with you,” John chuckled. “But, for some reason that girl is crazy about you and seems fairly excited to become your wife.”
“John, be serious,” Sherlock pleaded. “She deserves better, I should spare her, I should…”
“You should stop right now,” John said, his voice firm. “You adore her. She knows it. She brings out your… more human side… It’s a match made in heaven.
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but another knock at the door interrupted him. They both turned to see Mary poking her head in.
“Excuse me boys, John, we are having a slight problem with the bride…”
“Problem?” Sherlock demanded, crossing the room in three large strides. “What problem? Is (Y/N) having second thoughts?”
“God, no!” Mary exclaimed. “She’s beside herself with excitement, but, we are having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction. John?”
“Coming,” he said, following his wife out. Before stepping into the hall, he turned back to Sherlock.
“She loves you,” he said pointedly. “You will be a good husband. You will give her a good life. Stop worrying.” Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded as John disappeared into the hall. He followed Mary down the long corridor of the manor house they’d rented for the wedding. (Y/N) and the rest of the bridal party were gathered the master suite on the other side of the house. Mary pushed open the door and John saw (Y/N) standing in front of the mirror with her white gown on, the long zipper down the back pulled about halfway up. (Y/N) looked as panicked as Sherlock had.
“I didn’t gain any weight,” she ground out at John. He held up his hands wordlessly.
“No, you didn’t dear,” Mary said, gently. “The zipper is stuck. I thought John might help give a tug.” John nodded and stepped towards his friend, careful not to step on the folds of her dress. He placed one hand on her hip and grasped the zipper in the other. To (Y/N)’s credit, the dress was loose enough, but the zipper seemed to be stuck on the lining. His strong, steady doctor’s hands gently worked the zipper up, slowly and surely to the top.
“There,” he said, smiling. “All zipped up.”
“Thank you, John,” (Y/N) gushed, turning to admire herself in the mirror. Sherlock was a lucky man, John thought to himself. This woman who had befriended them both had won the other man’s heart and John was unbelievably happy for them both. “How’s Sherlock?” She asked.
“Talking about calling it off,” John informed her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.
“You handled it?” She laughed.
“I believe so,” John informed her. “Can you girls give us a second?” He said, asking the other girls to leave. Mary nodded and shooed them out, leaving John and (Y/N) alone. “I think you should see him.”
“Isn’t it bad luck and all?” She smiled. John shrugged, “Take me,” she said, gathering up her dress and following him out the back door, around through a back hallway and back up to the room where Sherlock stood waiting, gazing out the window again. She pushed the door open and he turned when he heard the rustling.
“Hi handsome,” she smiled, taking in his long, lean form, looking dashing in a tailored tuxedo.
“What are you doing here?” He murmured, crossing the room to her.
“John said you were going to stand me up?” She teased. She reached up and brushed a curl from his forehead.
“Why do you love me?” He asked, his brow knitting with concern.
“Sherlock,” (Y/N) sighed. “I love you for a million reasons. If you don’t want to get married, we won’t. But I’d sure like to marry you. I got this great dress…”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, bending to kiss her. “I want to marry you. I just want you to be happy.”
“You make me happy,” she whispered back, pressing her lips to his. “We will be happy. We will fight, we will get irritated. You more than me, probably, but that’s OK because we will still be happy.” Sherlock smiled and kissed her again.
“God I love you,” he sighed.
“Save some of that for the ceremony,” she whispered. “I mean, that is, if you still want to marry me.”
“I do,” he replied and (Y/N) laughed.
“Save that for the ceremony, too,” she said, poking him in the ribs.
“I will,” he said, wrapping his long arms around her.
“Ok so, go wait for me at the end of the aisle, I will be the happy girl in the white dress walking towards you.” She kissed him again, quickly and turned to leave. Sherlock grabbed her elbow gently, stopping her. (Y/N) looked back at him expectantly.
“You always know how to get through to me,” he said, his eyes thanking her, his panic replaced with a nervous excitement.
“And to think you almost didn’t marry me,” she tisked. “Good thing you have a lifetime to make it up to me.”
“Good thing indeed,” Sherlock replied.

Robyn Hood

“I have hatched a plan to finally catch Robyn of Loxley.” The Sheriff grinned slyly at his guards. “We shall stage an archery competition. With a prize. She won’t be able to keep herself away.”

His guards looked at each other dubiously. “But, Sir,” one of them spoke up. “Surely she’ll see straight through our plan and not come.”

Keep reading

Another reason to love person of interest: the broody male ex black ops soldier is the one to get the makeover like just imagine Harold buying John a new wardrobe and doing his hair and all of that like someone please imagine Paolo from the Princess Diaries going to work on John, giving him a spa day, a manicure and a facial and imagine the before and after pic ONLY PAOLO CAN GIVE YOU THIS AND THIS. AND GIVE YOU, AN ASSASSIN *insert John looking clean and sparkly*

No Room for Lies

Prompt: “I’m kind of stuck in a cabinet downstairs- can you come help me?”

Pairing: John Laurens x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1,432

Warnings: Small spaces, Thomas Jefferson being a bully and a dick, insulting terms towards a woman (reader)

A/N: Hija! So this is my first fic- I hope you like it :) 

The clock was just ticking over to half past eleven and you were hanging out of the window. There was supposed to be a meteor shower at some point and, despite the city lights and the cold, you had stayed up to watch it.

Alex, John, Lafayette, and Hercules had all gone out for drinks to celebrate winning their debate tournament. Laf had suggested you join them, but you’d turned him down.

You were just thinking of going to make yourself some hot chocolate in the kitchen when your phone buzzed.

From: Turtle Nerd

Hey Y/N? You there?

You swore your heart rate doubled. You grabbed your phone.

To: Turtle Nerd

Yeah- up watching a meteor shower.

You and John were best friends- eternally, ever since you’d been partnered to do a biology project on turtles in seventh grade. John had insisted you go to his house after school to use his piles of books about marine life- he wanted to be a marine biologist, he’d said. You’d called him a nerd and he’d sulked for an hour.

Naturally you’d been inseparable after that. He wanted to be an activist now, but the turtles obsession was still there.

Your phone started to ring. John was calling. Hastily, you picked up.

“Hey nerd,” you grinned.

“Hey,” John whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” You asked, reaching out to close your window. John hesitated.

“So I’m kind of stuck in a cabinet downstairs,” he admitted sheepishly, “can you come help me?”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. Sitting back down on your bed, you did your best to stop.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” John complained, “I’ve been stuck in here for an hour!”

“How-“ You choked out as you got up and started to look for your coat.

“Never mind that.”

You frowned. “At least tell me which cabinet.”

There was some kind of party going on in John’s dorm when you arrived. People had spilled out of the single rooms and into common areas and even the corridors. You glared at Jefferson as you walked past him trying to push some freshman into trying one of his “experimental” drinks. He smirked and leaned down to whisper something in Madison’s ear.

On the ground floor, beyond the dining room, you found the wardrobe John had described. To make sure, you knocked on one of the doors. “Y/N?” John’s voice was muffled by the wood, but you could still hear it.

You examined the wardrobe. It was a simple bolt that fastened from the outside. You frowned- “Did someone lock you in here?” You asked. John didn’t answer. Carefully, you slid back the bolt and opened the cupboard door.

John was sitting on the floor, looking a little drunk and a little rumpled. You grinned. “Hi,” you said, and reached out a hand for him to take.

He was just reaching for it when you saw his eyes widen. “Y/N-“ he yelled. But before he could get any more out, a hand shoved you into the cupboard too. You stumbled and toppled on top of John, confused.

There was laughter from behind you and you turned just in time to see Jefferson close the door. The bolts slid shut. “Jefferson!” You called angrily, banging on the door, “Let us out, you dick!”

“Not if you talk to me like that, babe,”

You bit your tongue. “Jefferson,” you said in the sweetest tone you could muster, “Please let us out.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied, “We’ll come and get you in the morning.”

“Jefferson!” You yelled again, but you could hear his footsteps receding. Angry, you punched the door. Ow. You turned to John, who you could just barely see in the light coming through the crack in the door. “What do we do now?”

He shrugged. “I sent out a group text and called everyone I could think of- you were the only one who answered.”

You hadn’t been the first one he’d called? Your shoulders slumped a little, but you forced yourself to ignore the little voice that told you to give up on John. “Well I bet I have at least five people in my contacts that you haven’t called.”

John patted the floor beside him and you sat down. It wasn’t exactly a spacious wardrobe, so the two of you were a little squished together. You hoped you didn’t smell or anything.

“Well then,” John said nervously, “Let’s see if anyone out there is willing to haul our asses out of this cupboard.”

No one was. Everyone was probably either asleep or out partying. You cursed your luck as you checked your phone again and found no messages. John had texted Alex, Laf, and Hercules again, but it didn’t look like they’d heard.

Clicking your phone off, you let your head fall back against the back of the wardrobe. “While we’re in here,” you said, “you might as well tell me how you ended up here.”

“Ahh,” John rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s embarrassing.”

You sat up. “Now I definitely want to hear.”

John groaned. “Someone who was supposed to be babysitting brought a six-year-old to the party. I decided to play hide and seek with them-“

“And they locked you in?” You asked, shocked.


“Then what?”

“The little guy started counting and I hid in here, but then Charles Lee-“

“Ah,” you said, remembering John and Lee’s famous fight after Christmas. If you remembered rightly, Lee had been insulting Professor Washington and the school debate team. “He locked you in?”


You reached tentatively for John’s hand. He let you take it. “You idiot,” you said affectionately, “You should know that stuff comes back to bite you.”

“It wasn’t because of the fight!” John protested, his hand abruptly holding yours much too tightly. You gasped in pain and he let go just as quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” You took his hand again. “Why did he do it then?”

John hesitated. He averted his eyes as much as he could in the cramped space. “It was because I punched him for insulting you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. “Thanks, John,” you said in the end- quietly.

“He said you were a slut,” John said through gritted teeth. “He said you were sleeping with all of us and-“

You pulled John into a hug. “Thanks,” you said into his shoulder, “But you didn’t have to do that.”

“Course I did,” he said, pulling you closer. His phone vibrated and the two of you broke apart. You caught a glimpse of the text as he slipped his phone from his pocket.


Ni ce. were on our wa y. u kss her yett?

John hastily typed back something, holding his phone out of your eyeline. “John?” you asked, voice trembling a little, “Why did Laf ask if you’d kissed me yet?”

He clicked send. The little whoosh of the text sending broke the silence. “Because I have a massive crush on you,” he said quietly, gaze fixed firmly on the floor. You froze, hardly daring to hope you’d heard him right.

Your heart in your mouth, you leaned forward until your lips were a hairs breadth from his. “Yeah?” you whispered, “Well I do too.”

He gasped. “Really-?” he started, but you kissed him before he could finish. His lips were soft and he was enthusiastic. It was barely a moment before he pushed you gently back into the back of the wardrobe, cupping your chin with one hand.

You nipped gently at his bottom lip and he gasped. You tangled a hand in his hair and pulled and he groaned. One of his hands slipped under your shirt and rested on the bare skin of your hip. In the dark, seeing in outlines and half-light, the air felt charged.

The door crashed open. John sat up and you followed, not ready to stop kissing.

“Look!” You heard Alex’s voice, smug and slightly slurred, “John and Y/N finally got their act together!”

Hercules started singing. “Y/N and John, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-“

“They are in an armoire,” Lafayette interrupted, “Not a tree, Hercules.”

Sheepishly, the two of you climbed out of the cupboard. Alex swung an arm round your shoulder. “How does it feel to know it took John getting locked in a cupboard by Jefferson for you two to get together?”

Hercules and Laf started to sing again.

You groaned. You were never going to live this down. John reached for your hand and grinned, “Let’s have another round tonight?”


they only really wear each others clothes when theyre home/sleeping bc of how much their shirts do Not fit each other. dave is the first one to switch their wardrobe and john laughs at how much dave swims in his t shirts. since daves a literal string bean his shirts hug johns beefy chest p tight and hes caught off guard the first time he finds john wearing his shirt. daves shirts get progressively baggier which he doesnt exactly appreciate but likes it too much when john wears his clothes so he doesnt complain…..much


I’m an honest man being strangled by monopoly!