Summary: Bucky finds you during a power outage in the Tower.
Warnings: smut, angst (almost nonexistent)
A/N: I wanted to do something more poetic like so I wrote this and my clock is currently reading 4:34 am and for all I know this may just come off as pure gibberish. I hope it’s at least a little bit entertaining to read…
aleks - expensive cars that he drives once, skateboarding at night, hoodies underneath streetlights, a glow of a match in the dark, the sound of muffled music outside of a club, bloody knuckles, lightning
james- dingy hotel bathrooms, storms on the atlantic, curls outlined on a white pillow, cigarettes between thin fingers, the same shoes he’s had since he was 19, the penthouse suite, sutures, thunder
joe - the feeling when you put your head out of the window of a moving car, gold plated handguns, safety vest under YSL suit, leather shoes, a black eye and a smile
aron - wallet too full of money to close properly, detonating a bomb remotely, stabproof jacket, candy wrappers
trevor - the smell of pot left on someone’s clothes, wallet chains, supermarket at 3am, sweatpants, leather thigh holster
oliver; on the walls, puddlemere united posters are kept in pristine condition. friends and family grin in their frames. a bookcase holds hundreds of copies of qudditch magazines. the top shelf houses awards from summer leagues long forgotten. his bed is pushed up against the wall under the window. dark blue bed sheets and a duvet with a warming charm keep the cold away. hundreds of thousands of possible quidditch plays inside a marble notebook sit on the bedside table. next to it a quill and ink pot just in case inspiration strikes in the night. his desk is organized chaos. forgotten break work. letters to and from percy and angelina. cut out magazine pages describing different defensive flight maneuvers. a waste bin overflowing with scrapped ideas.
marcus; clothes scatter the mahogany floor in serpentine trails. his california king bed is never made. dark grey pillows and blankets contrasting against the stark white sheets. blackout curtains hang from the bed’s canopy and keep the light out when the morning’s come to soon. the fireplace’s mantle is adorned with trophies and family photos where other flints sit. two maroon armchairs face the hearth. quidditch magazines with dog eared pages and color coded bookmarks shoved in between the cushions. in the adjacent wardrobe his broom and quidditch robes hang from the door. his desk is pristine. his last letters to adrian and terence sit unfinished to the left. homework he won’t do in one to the right. a half open letter from the montrose magpies between the two.
together; a trail of clothes lead to their bed under the window. the king sized bed is rarely made. white sheets still warm to the touch from body heat. oliver’s play notebook still sits on the bedside table next to where they keep their rings. magazines and trophies sit on two big bookshelves. messages and suggestions to each other written in the margins. oliver cuts out the articles marcus and the magpies are featured in. marcus draws hearts around oliver’s face in every photo. their pictures together cover the walls. mostly candids taken by their friends and a few professional photos from their matches against each other. quidditch uniforms (navy blue and yellow, black and white) divide their closet in two. oliver’s sweaters and kilts to the left. marcus’ sweatpants and leather jackets to the right.
Gym to Dinner Looks from last night’s shenanigans. I went to a good friend’s birthday dinner last night t a 5 start steakhouse in West Hollywood. Now why sweatpants you ask? Because I can….plain and simple. I like to do the unexpected. I knew everyone in our group would be wearing fancy dresses and whatnot, so I made a conscious decision to go against the grain. I am a true contrarian lol.
So yes, I bust out my old school college sweats (I briefly attended USC) and a deconstructed grey top, and paired the whole look with a leather jacket and my Zara Mules.
It’s funny my friend posted the group picture of us last night, and I kind of got a lot of hate on the look (albeit, I also got a lot of love). But the good thing about it all is that this look provoked a response, whether it was good or bad. I live to inspire you to just be yourself, unapologetically. So don’t follow me - follow your own instincts. Don’t follow the trends - set your own.