sleek kitchen

the wedding planners (一) | jjk

↳ alternative title: ‘'til death do us part’? i’d rather die than be with you’

[DISCONTINUED - please see my explanation here]

summary: you do a lot for your best friend. a lot. so much so, that you are willingly spending months working with Asshole Supreme, Number One Greaser, Pretentiously Cocky Jeon Jungkook just for the sake of his wedding, and we all know how that’s going to work out (not very well). 

{enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: jungkook x female reader (and some side yoonseok)
word count: 6k
genre: fluff, smut, angst (soon to come!)
warnings: descriptive smut and lots of swearing
a/n: here it is! this is my first series on this blog so forgive me if the spacing of the chapters is a little… rough, but i promise to update as often as i can! i’m in love with the enemies-to-lovers au so i’m so pumped to be releasing one of my own! enjoy! (in case u were wondering what that line is in parentheses, it’s just the number 1 in mandarin)

The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was at Hoseok’s birthday party. The memory will forever be engraved in your brain, seeing Jeon Jungkook cruise on over to you after being directed towards you by Yoongi himself, swirling a drink in his hand and plastering the greasiest smile he could onto his face. Yoongi must have supposed that if he and Hoseok got along so well, then there would be no reason why you and Jungkook wouldn’t. But he was wrong, because there were very many reasons why. A majority of them centered around the fact that Jeon Jungkook was just absolutely, one hundred percent full of himself, and there’s nothing worse than a man with an ego.

So, in short, rather than hitting it off, the both of you just ended up wanting to hit each other, and that’s never a good sign.

Three years later, nothing much has changed, only that Hoseok and Yoongi are now engaged instead of just almost-boyfriends, and you and Jungkook have gone from being just bothersome to each other to mutual loathing, so that’s just great.


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They Wanna Make Me Their Queen

( Prompt: princess diaries style “I grew up not knowing I was royal and suddenly my royal grandparent showed up out of nowhere and told me I was so now I guess I’m the heir to the throne and you’re my crush from my pre-royal days but I still have a crush on you” AU ) 

PART 2

A/N: Yeah, okay, I have had this fantasy playing out in my head. Picture it: me, a princess of some small and obscure island, and my long-lost grandmother tells me I’m a princess and I get married to Tom Holland AND WE ALL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER. Okay, on a serious note - Princess diaries AU anyone? I watched the movie and it was great. 

Taglist: @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter | @tomsleftbrow | @tryn25 | @tanglefire | @midnight-memorial


You drop your backpack on the floor inside your front door. It’s the area that your mum not-so-fondly refers to as the ‘shoe graveyard’ where everyone who comes in leaves their coats, shoes, umbrellas, and in this case, a backpack and a soggy cherry-printed umbrella.

(Y/n)? That you?” Your mum calls from the kitchen.

That’s odd. Mum doesn’t usually get home from work until six o’clock. Shaking out your rain damp hair, you head down the shadowy hallway and into the sleek, modern kitchen of steel and chrome. What you see there makes you gasp.

Mum’s gotten out her best china, gold-rimmed and floral, the ones she’d gotten as a wedding gift. She’s sitting and having tea and fancy pastries with the strangest-looking woman you’ve ever seen. She has pale skin, ruby red lips and hair piled up on her head in an elaborate bun. Small and bird-like, with a stern expression on her wrinkled face, she’s sitting ramrod straight, staring and assessing your every move. She’s dressed in a black cashmere cardigan, and flowing jersey pants, her legs crossed delicately at the ankles. On her feet are black Chanel ballet slippers.

“This is her?”

“Yes,” Your mum answers, glancing up at you with a too-big smile. “This is my daughter, (Y/n).”

“Um,” You say intelligently, glancing at mum for help. You want to ask the woman, Who are you? But you think that might come across as being a little rude. “Um?”

“This is your Grandmother,” Your mother says, waving you forwards. “Your father’s mother.”

“I thought he died.”

“He did, but now his mother – your grandmother – wants to see you.”

“What, after years of total radio silence?” You snort, flinging yourself down into an empty chair. You grab a small finger sandwich, making a face when you realise you’ve grabbed a cucumber one. “What does she want from us? Money? My left kidney?”

Lips pursed, voice clipped, the old lady says, “I can assure you, I have no need for such frivolities.”

“Frivolities? Really? Who even says that anymore?”

(M/n), if you do not tell her, I shall,” Your grandmother says sharply, brandishing a butter knife and heaping a large dollop of clotted cream onto a scone. “There is much to be discussed.”

(Y/n), the thing is . . .” Your mum’s tripping over her words, and you tilt your head to the side as you always do, saying nothing but willing her to continue. “You’re a princess, (Y/n).”

And grandmother nods sombrely along to every word, as though she has to give up her left kidney.

As for you? You take the news remarkably well.

You faint dead away, right then and there.


The worst part about this whole ‘princess’ thing, you think grimly to yourself as you stomp down the hallway of Midtown High, is that you’ve been forbidden from telling anyone. Not Ned Leeds, not Michelle Gonzales, and most certainly not even your best friend, Peter Parker. You’ve just become princess of a small island called Serangoon, have a queen for a grandmother, basically have unlimited power and resources at your fingertips, and you’re not allowed to talk about it. Grandmother had explained – rather impatiently, in your opinion – that if you told your friends, the information would spread like wildfire. You could – and would – be compromised, assassinated like a character in Game of Thrones. This was for your safety, she’d assured you.

You don’t even get a makeover like Taylor Swift in her You Belong With Me music video. You’re still the same old (Y/n), with your frizzy hair, less-than-ideal clothes and the acne scars on your face.

What you do get are princess classes – Mondays to Fridays, 3pm to 7pm. History classes, etiquette lessons, and basically whatever your grandmother saw fit to throw at you. You’d seen the disdainful way she’d looked at you. Because of course princesses had to be charming and graceful, with impeccable manners.

You’d tried to tell her that you had homework, a social life, but your pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears.

How is it that a freaking princess can be invisible, you think grouchily, slamming your locker with a little more force than is strictly necessary. The metal trembles violently, then stills, and you glower angrily at it.

Stupid locker, stupid grandmother, stupid, stupid, stupid!

“What did that locker ever do to you?” Peter demands laughingly, sidling up to you, a soft, sweet smile on his face.

Instantly, your mind goes fuzzy, a big useless snowstorm. Your mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and you gulp. That crush on Peter hasn’t disappeared at all, has it? It’s almost amazing to consider – you’re a princess, who will likely be married off to a prince/duke/king to provide heirs to both kingdoms ( or maybe this is your Game of Thrones obsession shining through ), but you still feel awkward and small around a boy you’ve known ( and liked ) since middle school.

Of course, the only way he’d ever notice you was if you became as gorgeous and as popular as Liz Allen.

If only you could tell the press …

But no.

“Earth to (Y/n)!” Peter’s laughing now, waving a hand in front of your face, his eyes bright and happy. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Um. Um?” You shake your head to clear away the fog. Your face feels far too warm for your liking. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Movie night? My place or yours? A new episode of Star Wars came out, and you agreed that we’d watch it tonight.”

“Thanks a lot, grandmother,” You mutter, cursing your grandmother out in your mind for scheduling princess classes on a Friday. “I can’t, Peter. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s face falls, and you’re kicking yourself for having to flake out on him and this time honoured tradition. For a moment, you think about just caving and telling him – but the resulting earful you’ll get from your grandmother is not worth it.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You say instead. “Promise.”

You glance anxiously at your watch. 3.12 pm. You’d asked Stanley – your chauffer cum body guard – to pick you up three blocks away from school, outside Hunan Kitchen, a dingy Chinese place, and you can practically picture his stern, youthful face as he waits, the engine of the Rolls Royce idling.

“Okay.” Peter’s smiling a little now, and that’s worth something, at least. “As long as you promise.”

Uninvited. {Dean Ambrose}


Summary: Housesitting for Dean had its perks, his house was beautiful, quiet and relaxing when it came to studying compared to your dorm or the lecture hall. However, your friends convince you to throw a party at his bachelor pad only to have Dean crash the party.

Warning: Smut. Smut. Smut.

Masterlist: Here

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Weakness

Pairing - Jake x MC
Prompt - After the first run-in with the Arachnids, Michelle and Jake have a heart to heart about MC.
Warnings - None that I can think of.
Word Count - 1462
It’s a shorter one, but it’s a happy one so there’s that. I wrote this a few days ago mostly because I love the way Michelle and Jake kinda butt heads sometimes and I love the idea of Michelle and MC being friends that are protective over each other.

-

“Why you gotta make me feel weak at a time like this?”

Everyone was exhausted. As soon as the group entered the resort, they settled down to sleep. Jake had tried, truly, but found himself lying wide awake beside his princess. There were too many thoughts running through his mind; the adrenaline was pumping too wildly through his system. Jake had seen Lundgren for the first time since the crash, the first time since Mike was killed. Not only that, but Lundgren had endangered not just Jake but the people he’d grown to care about over the time he’s spent with them. He endangered Jake’s princess.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Jake hadn’t been expecting anyone to be awake. Michelle was standing in the center of the lobby where everyone slept, looking as wide awake as he felt. “There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Jake responded, though only earned a scoff.

“I didn’t say I’d bring it to you,” the college student countered, rolling her eyes. At his motion to the sleeping girl beside him, Michelle only brushed him off. “She can sleep through anything, trust me. C’mon.” In truth, Jake was starving after the day’s events, so he followed her into the kitchen. The room was massive, full of chrome cabinets and counters. Sleek kitchen appliances filled the space. Jake sat down at a counter as Michelle stepped into the pantry and came back with various snacks. “There’s more, but I’m not cooking,” she announced before setting the cereal boxes on the counter. “You a Cheerios or a Froot Loops kinda guy?”

Jake looked at her for a long moment. The pair hadn’t gotten along too well through the time on the island, so he didn’t understand the sudden kindness. Though, he wasn’t about to ruin the night. After all, it seemed like neither of them were going to bed anytime soon. So, he shrugged and picked up a box, pulling it open and grabbing a handful of cereal. “Actually, I’m more of a Lucky Charms fan.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you were a five year old.” Despite the comment, a loose smirk was forming on her face.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t know you were eighty-seven. You couldn’t find anything better than Raisin Bran?” Jake countered, giving her his own smirk.

“Oh shut up. You don’t have to be so snarky all the time, you’re not fooling anyone,” Michelle spoke then between handfuls of her cereal. “I know how it works. You act like an ass to keep people away. Well, you didn’t keep everyone away.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jake shot back, pausing in his eating. He’d never expected her to stand with him when his old team showed up. Princess, it’s me he wants. Take the others and get out of here!

“Woah, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick.” The thought of her getting hurt because of him made him nauseous. Lundgren couldn’t take two people from him. Jake placed his palms on the counter, feeling the cool metal against his skin. It kept him focused on the present; a trick he’d learned the first year after escaping from behind enemy lines. He kept his eyes closed, breathing out a slow breath before nodding and opening his eyes. “She cares about you, you know that?”

“I know. It’s gonna get her hurt someday,” he finally states, resuming eating the cereal if only to find something else to focus on. There was nothing that scared him more than someone he loved caring about him. Mike was willing to risk his life for Jake’s cause, and in the end, he did give his life. It felt like he’d lost a brother that day, he didn’t know if he could ever feel the same pain again; the pain of losing someone he loved when it was his own damned fault. “It’s gonna get her hurt as soon as we get off the island.”

A pause; Jake knew Michelle was decrypting what he said. It didn’t take long, again proving her intelligence. “You don’t plan on sticking around? What an ass move.”

“I’m starting to think that’s my name, Maybelline,” Jake responded dully, not much play in his words. He only gave her a side glance before staring at the bright red cereal box in his hands. It seemed to contrast wildly with the conversation they were having.

“If you aren’t serious about this, you should tell her. She’s serious about you.” Michelle sounded angry, sounded hurt by his words as if she were the girl he was running from.

She didn’t understand. Jake gripped the side of the counter now, lifting his head to stare at the college girl. “Not serious? I’d get down on one knee right now if I could. I’d take her home to meet my family, I’d start my own family with her someday,” he struggled not to let his voice shake. Sounding passionate was one thing, but he couldn’t appear weak in front of Michelle, not in front of anyone. “But I can’t, because my mother thinks I’m a traitor. If we tried to get married, I’d be arrested for treason and she’d be arrested for helping to hide me, and any kid we could potentially have would never receive the perfect life it deserves because we’d be on the run constantly. I’m serious, I’m just realistic too.”

“She’d be willing to do it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I also know she deserves better than that, better than me.”

“You were going to sacrifice yourself for us today,” Michelle spoke, seemingly changing the subject. Jake felt himself relax; talking about his actions was more comfortable than opening up about his feelings for his princess. It had been hard enough coming to the realization and acceptance that he’d fallen for her, much less vocalizing it and his fears to one of her college mates. “For her.”

A shrug. That would have been the easy part. Jake was terrified of Lundgren, but he’d face the man a thousand times over if it meant ensuring the safety of his princess. His fear of seeing her hurt because of him was far greater than any fear of one man. “I didn’t have to. Princess stopped that plan right away.”

More silence. Michelle was focusing on her cereal now, staring at it as if it held the answer to all her questions. Jake had poured some of his cereal on the counter, and was now picking out the marshmallows to eat. There wasn’t anyone to call him rude for picking out the best parts. “This island’s changing all of us, more than you could notice,” Michelle finally spoke, a quieter voice than before. “Back at Hartfeld, she was no leader. Her and Diego melted into the crowd. I’d met her, of course, but she didn’t leave an impression on me. She was just some college student from a small town trying to fit in on campus. It felt like her life goal was to blend into the background. Now…well, she’s an entirely different person. I’m convinced some of that is your doing.”

“Me?” Jake didn’t believe it for one instant. It was the fear of losing her friends that caused her to step up. Even when he’d first met her in the cockpit of his plane she was a force to be reckoned with. He’d guessed even then that, given time he didn’t think they’d have, she’d have an effect on him. At first, it was because she reminded him so much of Mike. Then, it was because she was forcing him to deal with caring for someone again, with loving someone so deeply it scared him.

“I’m serious. You push her to be her best self. I could be friends with this new her,” Michelle explained. She tossed a piece of her Raisin Bran at him and shook her head. “Don’t pick out the marshmallows! What are you, a heathen?!”

A laugh. Jake hadn’t felt like laughing much in the past few years, but this group of college kids seemed to be able to make it happen easily. “You can’t tell an elder what to do, Maybelline,” he chuckled.

“You’re, what, thirty? You’re not much of an elder.”

“I’m twenty-six!” Jake exclaimed then, palm smacking against his chest in disbelief. “You think I look thirty?”

“A generous thirty. Is that a gray hair?” Michelle smirked, setting down the purple box in her hand and crossing her arms against her chest. “You might want to get to the proposal before your hair grays and falls out.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, you probably shouldn’t have,” Michelle countered, standing up and beginning to walk back to the lobby where the others slept soundly. She paused in the doorway, offered a small smile, then added, “but I’m glad you did.”

Home - Part 5 - Bruce X Daughter!Reader

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

MASTERLIST

TAKING REQUESTS

FAQ’s

Summary: Life carries on in the Avengers Tower. You make new friends, and certain friendships starts to climb towards something more.

Warnings: None.

Words: 2 572+

A/N: I MIGHT HAVE WATCHED SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING LAST WEEK AND IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN RIDICULOUSLY GOOD AND I MIGHT HAVE GOTTEN MY ALREADY CRITICAL CRUSH ON TOM HOLLAND QUADRUPLED (FUCK SPELLING IDK) AND YEAH SO THAT’S THAT *intense, internal, screaming*

(Also, don’t even get me started on how cheesy my summaries always are…) So, I’m posting once again, trying to makeup for being away by posting my most requested thing ever, which is Home Part 5, if you didnt get that.

Hope you enjoy, please tell me what you think and comment “Steve “Pimp Daddy” Rogers” if you read this cause I honestly, fucking, doubt people read my A/N’s.

Originally posted by miscellame

Originally posted by peterbparkerr


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anonymous asked:

45 w bucky??? :)

Originally posted by stuckybarnesrogers

The sound of the television blaring from the living room woke you much too early for your own liking. 

Even the heaviest of sleepers could have been disturbed by the sound of some shitty sitcom echoing around the corridors of the compound, canned laughter making whatever was playing on the screen considerably less funny. 

Rolling over in the large bed, you found the switch for the lamp, illuminating your bedroom in a soft yellow glow. It had been the same as when you’d left it. 

Pristinely neat, barely lived in. You hadn’t lived in the compound for long and a few days still needed to pass before you felt as though you were at home there. 

Your stomach growled, desperate for a snack. Patting it, you slipped your feet into a pair of soft ballet pumps and exited the bedroom, heading out towards the kitchen. 

Stark’s sleek marble kitchen directly adjoined the living room, where large, plump leather sofas were laid out in a perfect semi-circle. It was only when you stepped into the large glass room and spotted the light blue glow that captured everything did you realise that you were no longer alone. 

On the couch, Bucky was sat underneath a blanket, half asleep in front of the television, eyes blank and staring at the screen. You watched from the corner as he shuffled in his seat, gaze never moving from the picture. 

For a moment, you wondered how another soul could stand to be awake at such an ungodly hour. Then, as you spied the tell-tale bloodshot veins within his sullen eyes and the dark shadows beneath them, you realised that perhaps Bucky’s sleeping had not been as recurrent as he had convinced you it was. 

You and Bucky were old friends- PTSD therapy for the most part. For the first few sessions, he had remained stoic and quiet in the corner, gloved hands folded over his lap. 

Only when you had broken down, recounting your experiences in combat in the warm deserts of America’s current warring location, had he opened himself up like a flower in bloom. When your lease had been cut off, he offered you the spare bedroom in this compound. 

Heading for the refrigerator, you pulled out a carton of milk and poured yourself a glass, adding a few chocolate chip cookies for good measure. It was comfort food but you didn’t care. It was delicious. 

On the counter, there was a gentle buzz and the glow of a phone screen. Instinctively, you glanced over, spying a familiar image on the screen. By the couches, Bucky looked up and spotted you. His lungs shuddered unhappily as he leapt up from the couch. 

‘Y/N…’ 

You couldn’t help but stare blankly at the phone. The photograph on the front was of you. Candidly taken, you were sipping a mug of coffee next to a freshly emptied syrupy plate of pancakes. 

Your hands were curled around the chipped enamel and there was a warm smile of happiness as the caffeine warmed your blood. If you thought back hard enough, you could remember the sensation. After a meeting, the two of you had gone for food. You remembered. 

‘I’m your lock screen?’ 

Bucky snatched the phone from the counter, holding it protectively against his chest. 

‘You weren’t supposed to see that!’ 

Silence fell between the pair of you. Bucky chewed his lower lip, clasping the phone as he stared down at his bare feet. 

‘I suppose…’ you began softly, voice just audible over the sound of the television, ‘Why?’ 

Bucky swallowed. ‘Uhm…I…I thought it was cute.’ 

You stifled a soft laugh. He was the world’s worst liar. Bucky rolled his eyes again. 

‘It’s partially true, at least. But mostly…it’s because even in the worst moments, you make me calm. I just have to look at that photograph and I feel soothed. There’s something about you that makes me grounded.’ 

Your mouth fell open just a little as the words stunted within your brain, unsure of how to respond. The silence seemed to crush Bucky, as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and began to return towards his lonely position on the couch. With a soft sigh, you stepped closer, slipping your hand into his. 

He looked up. 

‘I agree. I think it’s cute too.’ 

The faintest ghost of a smile danced across his plump lips. Though he said nothing, he gently squeezed your hand again, cradling your digits in his large palm. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ you asked. He shook his head. 

With a smile, you poured another glass of milk and shook a few more cookies out onto a plate for the two of you to share. 

‘Can I keep you company?’ 

‘Of course,’ Bucky said. 

Before he could move, you leant up onto your tiptoes and pressed the smallest kiss to his cheek. The flesh blossomed with a sudden pink and Bucky caught your eyes. They sparkled. 

It made butterflies dance around your stomach.

But what am I supposed to do?

Chapter 11: the morning after

Chapter 1 [x]
Previous Chapter [x]
Next Chapter [x]


After years of trying to forget about your fleeting romance, it had come back to hit you twice as hard. Caught between lies and feelings, you’d finally given in to the temptation that was Song Minho. And you weren’t about to lose him all over again.


Originally posted by yoonjeongpuns

*You reach for your phone; 10:50am. You groan as the bright screen illuminates your face. A low hum coming from the TV on the wall. You scramble for the remote, cautious not to disturb the warm body sleeping next to you. You wince as the alcohol starts to wear off and a dull ache starts to radiate from your hips. Minho had definitely not disappointed last night. You smirk to yourself as you head to the bathroom, careful not to trip on the various pieces of clothing scattered across his bedroom floor.*

[MH] Y/N?

*His deep voice catches you by surprise as you slink towards the bathroom; you instantly become very aware of your exposed state. You turn sheepishly to face him; his muscular figure barely covered by the bed sheet.*

[Y/N] Ah, good morning…

*You murmur half-pressed against the wall to cover yourself. You watch as his sleepy brown eyes graze over you and a small smirk twitches at his lips.*

[MH] Good morning indeed.

*His tone makes you chuckle as he stretches his long, toned arms towards you; hands beckoning you. You peel yourself away from the wall, glad that the curtains were still drawn, and wander to the edge of the bed so you’re just out of reach.*

[MH] come here

*Minho growls at you, causing you to move just within his grasp. You feel your heart rate increase as his long fingers dig themselves into your thigh as he pulls you towards him.*

[MH] much better.

*You allow yourself to be drawn into a cuddle; warm skin against warm skin. Minho traces your side with his fingertips as he attempts to make eye contact with you. You avoid it shyly; neither of you were exactly virgins, but it had been your first time with him. You bite your lip as your mind drifts back over the nights events. The drunken argument in an alleyway leading to drunken sex at his place. It had been gentle to start with; exploring each others bodies and soft kisses. But you’d both been waiting for this moment for two years so it quickly became clumsy. An unquenchable need to be close to each other.*

[MH] Y/N?

*Minho soft tone brings you back to the present; a slight blush creeping into your cheeks.*

[MH] What are you thinking about?

[Y/N] Um… last night… you… us…

*The heat in your face grows stronger and you avoid eye contact once more. But Minho simply laughs and pulls you underneath him.*

[MH] well we can always recreate that…


*You stand there, an hour or so later, in Minho’s sleek kitchen. Dressed in nothing but his shirt, you search through his cupboards for some breakfast.*

[Y/N] How much ramen does this guy need?

*You mutter to yourself. A tall silhouette stands in the doorway to the living area, you turn to face him with a shy smirk twitching at the corners of your mouth.*

[MH] How are you feeling?

*Minho purrs as he saunters towards you, now fully dressed. You smirk as you think about his broad, tanned body moving against yours… the marks you’d left against his shoulders.*

[Y/N] Sore…

*You grin up at him; the scent of fresh cologne and clean laundry enveloping you as his frame blocks your view. Minho places a gentle kiss against your already bruised mouth; a tender apology.*

[MH] I’ve been waiting for this for so long…

*Minho’s confession leaves you feeling guilty; after all, it was you that had run away for two years. You’d left so much behind. Friends. Your dream job. Your first love. But that was in the past… You’re snapped back to reality as Minho lifts you onto the counter; the cold surface a contrast against your bare flesh.*

[MH] but we’re here now.

*You smile as he wraps his arm around your lower back; the warm of his forearm leaving tingles on your skin. Minho leans his forehead against yours.*

[Y/N] I really missed you, you know.

*You whisper looking down as his brown eyes burned into yours. Minho pulls away from you; a cold space where his forehead had been.*

[MH] I missed you too…

*Minho murmurs, fondling your hand gently in his.*

Originally posted by ygboys-ot11

[MH] Do you play piano anymore?

[Y/N] Hm? no… I haven’t played since…

[MH] …Since?

[Y/N] Since I left. 

[MH] You always used to look so pretty when you played piano…

*Minho murmurs warmly, cupping your face in his large hands. He kisses you softly and lowers you onto the floor. It was as if the past two years had never happened. You feel bitter; imagine if you’d never left. You both wander over to the sofa hand-in-hand.*

[Y/N] Maybe I could start playing it again?

*You suggest shyly as Minho scoops you into his arms on the sofa. He pulls a blanket over the two of you.*

[MH] Of course you should! You should come by the studio some time…

*You smile to yourself as Minho talks excitedly. You rest your head against his sturdy chest and listen to the soothing thump of his heart as he rambles on about work.*

[MH] I’d love to show you some songs I’ve been working on recently.

*You nod peacefully as your eyes droop heavily.*


[MH] what the fuck?

*You’re awoken suddenly as your head crashes against the cool leather of the sofa. You open your eyes surprised to see Minho stood up talking on the phone. The sweet daydream you’d been having shattered by the rage radiating off of Minho.*

[MH] how the fuck did that happen?

*You sit up on the sofa; an awkward silence fills the air as the person on the other end of the receiver answers Minho’s question. The tension is released as Minho grabs his jacket and heads for the door.*

[MH] I’ll be right there.


~to be continued~

[CREDIT to the gif owners - I do not own these gifs]

Expedition - Tenacious 4 (18k)

Okay. Woah. The warning labels this will have is depression, emotional/trust issues, heavy angst, blood, injury, possible death of a major character and cheating. Mild sexual content, as well.I almost forgot to mention; Monsta X is the collab group for this.

Tenacious 1-?

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The Dinner Date

Prompt: “There was a power outage and now we have to have dinner by candlelight.”
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Lily Evans, James Potter
Setting: Modern AU
1,000 Words


Dinner at my place, James had casually asked, with an easy grin, and Lily had accepted after the briefest of hesitation.

Lily stopped before the door, ran her hand through her carefully curled red hair, and smoothed the front of her dress as she gathered her nerve.

Though initially she hadn’t been too impressed by James Potter, she’d come to really really like him – and this would be their fourth date.

And date number four and dinner at my place were just the kind of specific combination that it got Lily’s imagination running; she was definitely having expectations regarding tonight.

Lily bit her lip and rang the doorbell, trying her best not to fidget as she waited, ears straining to catch the sound of scuffling footsteps from inside the flat.

The door opened and James appeared in the doorway. His hazel eyes lit up with delight, a bright smile bloomed on his lips.

“Hey, there,” he greeted her, bending to give her a light peck on the cheek.

“Hi,” Lily said, a little breathless as she was once again struck by how handsome he looked. Even when clad in a ridiculous pink apron.

“Come in,” he beckoned, and stepped back.

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Just a Dream

SUMMARY: One wrong move turns both Jake and M/C’s futures into nothing but shattered dreams—remnants of the life they could’ve had and could’ve lived.

UNIVERSE: Endless Summer

PAIRING: Jake McKenzie X MC

WORD COUNT: 1270+ words

AUTHOR’S NOTE: For Round Ten of #ChoicesCreates by @hollyashton and hosted by @lauraotaku2234. To which the prompt was: ‘Do you believe in soulmates?’

Also for @annyvil’s request with the angsty prompt: ‘Tell me this is a dream.’

Slightly AU since this is set pre-La Huerta, right after Jake disappears off the grid. Loosely based around the idea of Lundgren opting to give Jake’s family the impression that he died, and inspired by Carrie Underwood’s Just a Dream as well as its music video. (Rating: T, heartbreaking angst)

It was second Friday of the month. You stood by the windowsill of the McKenzies’ residence, fiddling with the diamond-encrusted ring on your finger as you watched the leaves fall off the trees. It had been three months since you received his last letter and you were starting to get worried.

The letter wasn’t exactly a comforting read to begin with, seeing as it contained warning codes only the two of you understood—something you two came up with in case he was in too much danger to tell you in normal words.

You closed your eyes and sighed. Jake was in deep trouble, and there was nothing you could do but pray he’d be alright.

Keep reading

Little Bird

Prompt: Bucky is for the first time on the path to being his old self–and his first obstacle as a ‘normal person’ living in Avengers’ Tower is the mysterious girl who lives beside him, who never stops singing. Then, in the midst of a panic attack following a nightmare, he starts to calm down, and wonders why when he hears a familiar old song coming from next door.  

Part 1 of ? 

Warnings: angst/fluff. death ment. PTSD. blood ment. Anxiety. ??? 

It started as soon as Bucky got the room. They’d been reassured that he wasn’t a safety risk, and he was given a suite in the training facility, just like all the other Avengers had. They were reserved to one floor on the upper levels, a floor that was also equipped with a kitchen and laundry service. Most of the team were only there part-time. Wanda was still being trained, Steve was always training, Vision had nowhere else to be, but other than that, it was a pretty deserted floor.

Finally, Bucky thought he’d earned some privacy. Finally, some peace and quiet. 

And then it began. 

The suite was much like a nice hotel room. A large bedroom, large bathroom, a closet, a desk, and a small sitting area. Right above his bed, though, was a vent. A vent which led directly to the room beside him. Whatever went on in that room was audible in his, even by a normal person’s standards, much less with his advanced senses. 

She sang new songs, old songs, musicals, showtunes, it was never-ending. She sang the words, and when there were no words she sang the sounds. It was like she just couldn’t stand not making noise. 

And what’s worse, apparently she never left her room. He’d never come back to his suite, not once since he’d lived there, and heard silence in the room next to him.

He’d tried banging on the walls, and even calling to her through the vent. He knew she could hear him. It was hard enough for him to find rest even without constant noise, with her next door it was impossible. 

He’d never seen her in person, and frankly, didn’t care to. His treatments became more taxing, he began sleeping less and less, and thus, it was only in reluctance and sheer exhaustion that he’d accepted her singing as a part of his daily routine. 

Until this mysterious girl was thrown, suddenly, sharply, into his life. 


Steve worriedly watched his best friend as he walked him back to his room. The treatments Bucky was going through to undo the programming in his head always took their toll, but this one had been especially rough. Bucky’s face looked older and more tired than ever, his hands shoved in his pockets, jaw tensed, eyes staring at nothing as if he were trying to scatter unpleasant memories. Erasing old nightmares and bringing up new ones, it seemed, was all the treatments were doing.

“Hey, you want to crash with me tonight?” Steve offered, “I’ve got a lumpy couch with your name on it.”  

Bucky considered the offer, though to Steve it didn’t even look like he’d heard it. Being alone tonight was probably not a good idea, he knew that. Steve knew that. He said no anyway, mumbling something about just needing sleep.

“Alright, hey,” Steve squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as they arrived at his door. “I know it seems tough right now, but it’s gonna get better.”  

Bucky tiredly massaged his neck, “Yeah, yeah I know.”

“I’m right down the hall, Buck. If you need me, I’m here.” Steve said sincerely.

Buck looked over his friend and allowed a small, tight smile. “Til the end of the line, right?”  

Steve smiled. “Right. Try to get some sleep.”  

When Buck closed his door behind him, he heard it, and instantly groaned. She was singing again. 

He moved over to his bed and banged on the wall. “Hey, lady. You’re doing it again.”  

Silence. She always heeded his protests when he made them, but the singing only started back up again a moment later. He sighed tiredly, rubbing his face. He stunk of sweat from the stress of the treatments, but he didn’t have the energy to shower. He crawled into the bed in all his clothes, scared to sleep but unable to keep his eyes open.
:
.
.

.

.

.

Bucky almost felt like a proud father. The plucky kid from Brooklyn, whom Buck had saved from many a fight, had long since outgrown his old friend. Now, he was Steve Rogers. Super Soldier. Captain America. Now, they were brothers in arms, and Steve was getting all the girls. Who knew, maybe the world was ending.

Bucky smiled and leaned on the bar, sipping his drink and watching as Steve and Peggy twirled around the dance floor to some fast-paced jazz number, Peggy completely taken with him. Buck shook his head incredulously at how much his friend had changed and whooped some loud words of encouragement, making all their fellow soldiers laugh, and Steve blush.

Well, at least some things stayed the same. He thought, amused.

His eyes landed on a girl in the crowd, and his smile widened. She was a cute little brunette, watching him curiously as she drifted like a ghost through the huddle of bodies on the dance floor, wandering toward him.

Her lips, painted scarlet, spread into a warm smile, “Hello,” She began, but another voice drowned out her own. And it was not so much the voice as the words which made him tense.

“Willing … Grandfather … Unlock …”

“No.” He said, shaking his head, looking around for the girl but finding her nowhere. He could feel things in his mind starting to slip, to rearrange themselves.

“ … Bow … Energetic …”

Ten random words. Nouns, adjectives, past and present tenses, things that could never be accidentally put together.

“No …  no, no, no.” He clutched at his head with his hands only to find the flesh of his left arm replaced with cold, hard metal.

“Kind … Structure … Royal …”

Trigger words were what they were, to bring forth what hid inside his mind like a time bomb, and then tuck it safely back away whenever he’d fulfilled his purpose.

It hurt, like bleach running through his head, washing him out and replacing him with something else.  

He screamed and fell to his knees.

“ … Smoke …” The final word was said, and then, “Good evening, Soldier.”

Bucky looked up, and it wasn’t Bucky any longer. There was a gun in his metal hand, and blood smeared upon the other.

“Ready to comply.”


Bucky jolted awake with a tortured, guttural noise, his body rigid with terror. It ran through his veins like hot metal, making his heart pound against his ribs and his muscles contract as if he were seizing. The only reason he did not scream was because he could not. Because his teeth were glued shut painfully tight. He felt them crack under the pressure, and it only added to the pain as he tried, in vain, to breathe. He was panicking. Air, he needed air. He clutched at the sheets, at the blankets he was covered in, something to ground him, to reassure him that the room around him was real and not the blood. Not the horde of bodies, every face familiar, with Steve and the brunette topping the pile, staring widely out of unseeing eyes.

Usually it was not this bad. Usually, it was only a couple minutes before he got his heartbeat under control and his lungs breathing again. This one was not usual. This was a bad one.  

Focus on your surroundings. Your senses. Dark room. A bedroom. His bedroom. The Avengers’ facility.

The lack of air getting to his lungs was only lengthening his panic. Images flew through his mind as if on a TV screen. Steve’s face, cold and unmoving and betrayed. The girl and her scarlet lips and scarlet dripping from her nose and her mouth and her wide, dead eyes.

He smelled the sweat and detergent on the sheets. The mint gum on his bedside table. Artificial vanilla from the air freshener.

Faces, so many faces. An accountant from Berlin, strangled. A business exec in Maui, throat cut. Bullet to the head, execution-style. Exsanguination. Decapitation. Three bullets to the chest. Bomb detonation, 13 killed. Blunt force trauma. Howard Stark. Maria Stark. Body upon body upon body.

He could hear the distant hum of cars on the freeway, the chirping of crickets outside on the lawn, the hum of the air vent and … the hum of something else. Someone else. The clock was blinking on the bedside table, 4:17 AM, and she was singing again.

He’d have laughed if he could, at the absurdity of it. But her music struck him now, in his vulnerability. The song was almost as old as him and her voice changed to match it, low and humming and melodic, like those which moaned from old record players. Judy Garland and Peggy Lee. Those voices which played in the background of clubs while he’d charmed many a girl into dancing.

It sounded like Brooklyn in the summer, like the confidence of his youth and like comfort and like home. And by the time she’d finished the song, his breathing was back to normal, and he’d hardly noticed. It was quiet for a moment, and then she started off with another tune, at first just mumbling the words, and then slipping into the rhythm.

She sang four songs before he found himself—to his surprise—drifting off again to the sound of her voice.


“Does Bucky Barnes actually look well-rested?” Natasha asked playfully as he padded into the sleek kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and jeans. 

Most of the other team members were more skittish around him, or simply uncomfortable. He’d surmised he was something between a threat and a tragedy. People were either wary of the Winter Soldier or did not know how to talk to what was left of James Barnes. Natasha knew a little bit about that herself, and was determined to be neither. 

Steve entered the kitchen just after him, coming in from his morning run with his trainees. He surveyed Bucky not-so-inconspicuously.

“You do look well-rested. No problems?” Steve asked.  

“I’m as shocked as you are.” Bucky said blandly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and going to investigate the pan on the stove. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Blueberry pancakes with syrup and bacon.”  Natasha answered, popping a cut square of syrup-soaked pancake in her mouth.   

Bucky paused. “That’s my favorite.”

Steve grinned, pleased that Bucky remembered. “Ma used to make blueberry for him and chocolate chip for me.”

“I was always more of a waffle fan.” Natasha chipped in thoughtfully, “Americans have much more fun with their breakfast than we do. In Russia you usually just get bread and sausage.”  

Bucky piled three on his plate, with syrup between each of them and then poured in excess on top. He even found powdered sugar in a little sprinkler beside the griddle that’d never been there before. It was his secret ingredient, which he swore on his life made every pancake better, though Steve had always doubted it. 

He devoured the pancakes, which tasted absolutely perfect, and was overcome with a sense of home for the second time in the last twelve hours. Speaking of which, a question struck him.

“Hey Steve, you know who lives in the room beside mine?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced up and gave him a weird look. “Well, they’d be part of the Avengers’ Initiative. That’s who the rooms are reserved for, but I don’t know exactly who. Sam maybe? Why?”  

Bucky shrugged, deep in thought. He’d have to ask Maria. She knew everything that went on around the facility. When he caught her stepping into an elevator, he quickly followed behind her. 

“Mr. Barnes.” She greeted. “I hear the doctors are making progress.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um, do you know who lives in the room beside mine?” 

“Do you have a complaint?” Maria asked. 

“No, I uh …” He thought about the singing, “No, I don’t. I was just curious.”  

“Well, then you’ll have to be more specific.” She said, looking down to her tablet. “We all come and go pretty frequently, it’s not easy to keep up.” 

He shook his head. “Not this girl, she’s been here everyday since I got the room.” 

Maria rose an eyebrow. “Could it be me?”  

Bucky shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Do you sing, by any chance?” 

Maria’s face lit up in recognition and her lips quirked. “Sloane. You’re looking for Sloane.” 

Sloane. As far as he remembered, he’d never met anyone in the facility by that name. He was awfully bad with names, though.

“What does she look like?” Bucky asked. 

“It’s a pretty distinctive appearance. She keeps to herself but trust me, you’d remember her. By the singing if by nothing else.” She said wryly, and then looked back up at him, “Although I’m surprised Steve hasn’t asked her to help you, it seems she’d be useful.”  

“What, like with my head?” Bucky asked, “She good with that stuff?” 

“I think its safe to say she’s probably the expert.” Maria said, as the doors opened on the ground floor. She stepped off and turned. “Talk to Cap, he’ll be able to tell you what you wanna know.”  

Bucky nodded and gave a ‘thank you’ as the doors closed again. 

It was getting stranger and stranger by the second. Deep in thought, he rode back up to his floor and walked back to his room, pausing at the door down the hall from his. Her door.

Impossibly quiet, he halted his breath and leaned down, pressing his ear close to the wood. Quiet footsteps, music and—his lips quirked into a smile—singing. It was the same voice it always had been, but he couldn’t make himself be annoyed by it anymore. Not after what it had done for him. The song ended and he leaned a bit closer, waiting for it to start up again. He nearly pissed himself when the door opened.

Maria was right about the girl’s unique appearance. She was a beauty, but not of the same variety as Natasha or Maria, or the other girls you saw in the facility—clean-cut, professional. This girl didn’t have the beauty of a soldier. Her hair had been washed and dried but not brushed, so it lay around her in a mess of curls, reaching to her shoulders. It was also dyed a stormy grey-blue that faded to black at the roots. She wore a pair of overall shorts, with a green crop-top underneath, and dirty high top converses on her feet. Her eyes were dark grey and her arms covered in tattoos. She watched him.

“I think the door you’re looking for is about fourteen feet to your left.” She said, a small smile quirking her lips, though it wasn’t an unkind smile.

“I … um …” He clawed for words, trying to swallow his confusion. “Right. Yeah. Uh … . . sorry.” He took off down the hall, and didn’t dare turn around until he heard her door close. Bewildered, he passed his door and made for the elevator again. He’d find Steve. 

“Rogers? You know her.” Steve said, watching his trainees carefully as they ran through drills. “Everyone knows her.”

“Except for me, apparently.” Bucky mumbled, finding it suspicious just how well everyone seemed to know her. “Rogers?”

Steve nodded. “Sloane Rogers. No relation to me, obviously.”

“What’re we talking about?” Sam strolled up.

“Buck just met Sloane today.” Steve said.

“Today?” Sam pulled a face, “Man, everyone knows Sloane. She’s the one that makes breakfast every morning.”

Bucky looked up at him, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, every morning.” Steve said, his brow furrowing at the shock on his friends face. “That mean something to you?”

“She made my favorite this morning.” He said, “After …”  

Sam and Steve traded glances, “After what?”  

Bucky ran his tongue over his bottom lip and looked at Steve. “Okay, don’t get mad alright?” Steve stiffened but listened anyway. “I had a nightmare last night, a bad one.”

“Buck, I told you, you could-” Steve began tiredly but Bucky cut him off.

“I know, I know.” He dismissed him, “But then … I don’t know I think she—uh, Sloane, Rogers, whatever … calmed me down.”

“Is she the annoying neighbor you complain about all the time?” Sam asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, with the singing. I can hear it through the vent over my bed, but this time it was like … I mean it sounded … like music I used to listen to, back when I was really Bucky. I don’t know, it felt like I was back in Brooklyn. And I calmed down.”

Steve and Sam listened carefully. 

“Sloane does like to sing. You sure she was singing for you, though? She does it all the time.” Sam said. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, but the sound of the music was so specific and it was nearly four in the morning and then the breakfast thing on top of it …” Bucky shook his head, “My only problem is, how does she know?”

“Well,” Sam glanced sideways at Steve, “It’s kind of her thing.”

“Sloane’s an Enhanced.” Steve explained. “She can do a bunch of mind stuff, like picking up on old memories and things. She’s learning how to control it now, that’s why she’s here.”

Bucky looked flatly at Steve. “You put me in a room beside a mind-reader.” He deadpanned. “You made the conscious decision to place me within a hundred feet of someone who can get inside my head?”

Sam began snickering and Steve pursed his lips. 

“I didn’t get to pick out the room.” Steve said.

“He’s right, that is a little twisted.” Sam chuckled, just delighting in something to ride Steve about.  

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Well, it’s good you two finally met. I have a hunch you’ll be spending a lot of time together soon.”

“What? What does that mean?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced at his watch. “C’mon. We’ve got that meeting with Maria. If I’m right, she’ll explain everything. 

In Fury’s absence, Maria acted as a go-between for the Director and the Avengers’ Initiative. She took charge of coordinating the group while Cap took charge of training the soldiers. 

Sloane was at the meeting, paying no more attention to Bucky than to anyone else, though he was certainly keeping an eye on her. Her hair was tucked up in a messy bun, watching Maria through black-rimmed glasses, the head of her ink pen either tapping restlessly against her bottom lip or clasped between her teeth. She definitely had the whole ‘sexy secretary’ thing down to a tee.

Sloane met his eyes, shooting him a diminutive ‘are you kidding me?’ look, and he realized in muted horror what Steve told him about her reading minds.

Fuck, sorry. He thought, and she snorted aloud, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Sloane, did you have something you wanted to say?” Maria asked, raising a brow.

She tried and failed to keep a straight face. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”  

Maria shook her head, a small smile on her lips, before continuing. “And finally, Natasha and Cap are shipping out tomorrow to follow a lead on the Kornikova case in St. Petersburg.”

“Our … two best agents? Is that wise?” Wanda asked.

“I have a hunch this one will take nothing less.” Maria said, and then looked to Sloane, “Rogers, I’m leaving you in charge of Barnes.”  

Bucky glanced back at Steve, who looked down, then he looked to Sloane. She clearly had been told no more than he had. Her eyes widened and she glanced at Bucky for a moment before looking back at Maria.

“How long is this mission?” She asked.

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Bucky asked Steve, turning in his seat. “All the movies, the playing basketball, the hanging out … you were keeping an eye on me?”  

“Buck, we hang out because we’re friends.” Steve said carefully.

“Right, it was just a happy accident that she ordered you to follow me everywhere.” Bucky said sarcastically.

“Mr. Barnes.” Maria said. Bucky bid Steve a last look before turning back around. She then turned to address Sloane. “Sloane, your powers are simply the best chance we have of controlling Mr. Barnes during an episode.”

“Mr. Barnes would appreciate it if we didn’t talk about him like he’s a rogue attack dog, thanks.” Bucky spoke up.

Maria looked at him for a moment, running her tongue over her lip in frustration, before straightening up.

“To answer your question, Sloane. The mission could be a few days, could be a few weeks.” Maria said levelly. “But it doesn’t matter because either way, you both have your orders.” She looked from Bucky back to her. “Your residency here is dependent upon your ability to follow orders. Meeting adjourned.”  

Natasha, Sam, and Wanda made their hasty exit, sharing looks. Steve waited for Bucky to move, watching him in concern, but when Sloane gathered her things and left, he followed her instead. It would be no good talking to Bucky right now. 

After a moment, Bucky finally stood and exited the conference room to find Steve and Sloane in a heated conversation.

“Of course I recommended it! You could help him.” Steve said.

“Why do you think I hid myself from him in the first place?!” She hissed.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t taken an interest, you made him pancakes.” Steve said flatly.

“Because I can’t help him!” She said, flinging her hands. “I’ve tried, Steve, I just make it worse.”

“Look, he told me you helped calm him down last night, so don’t pull that with me. You don’t give your powers enough credit.”

Bucky leaned against the wall and gave her another look. Grey eyes … full lips.

I helped him out of a panic attack that I caused, Steve.” She said urgently, and he realized there were tears in her eyes. “It’s the worst one he’s ever had and I caused it, I can’t-” But Bucky stepped forward and cut her off. 

“You were in my dream.” He took a step forward, pointing at her. “Like in my dream. In person. I’d never seen you in real life before today but you showed up in my nightmare last night.”

Sloane looked at Bucky and for a moment he saw something akin to guilt, or sorrow, then she shook her head and wiped her face and looked to Steve, “Fix this.” Before turning on her heel and heading off down the hallway. 

The two boys watched her go, and when Steve turned back to say something to Bucky, he was already gone in the other direction. 

anonymous asked:

For a Halloween prompt how about Jaxen as a teen trying to go out dressed in a 'slutty' costume for the first time and Jack is like "oh hell no" and Rhys doesnt think it's a big deal. Maybe they end up fighting over and it gives Jaxen a chance to sneak out without either of them noticing.

“Woah woah woah, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Jaxen rolled his eyes, continuing into the kitchen even with the telltale footsteps of his dad behind him. He absently tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear, ignoring his dad’s bitching until Jack circled around him, practically getting up in his son’s face.

“What’s your damage, old man?” Jaxen growled, swiping at him. Jack’s brows furrowed, hands planted on his hips as he looked his son up and down.

“This. What is. This.”

“Uh, my costume. What, you going blind? MomJaxen shouted, “—better call the medic, Dad’s retinas detached again!”

“Watch it, punk,” the alpha frowned as he took in the costume completely. Tight yellow shorts and matching crop top, striped with white and spotted with a bright blue eyepiece right in the middle of his chest. Knee high socks patterned with tire treads.

“This,” Jack flicked the antennae sprouting from Jaxen’s head, “better not be what I think it is.”

“So what? Me and Cyrus wanted to match.”

“I’m not sure what I’m more pissed about. The sexy part. Or the Claptrap part,” Jack snapped just as Rhys walked into the room, the bright green lights from his own costume reflecting about the sleek surfaces of the kitchen.

“What are you two fighting about now?” Rhys sighed, looking between his son and his mate. Jack and Jaxen both pointed at each other, speaking in unison.

“—Dad doesn’t like my costume—!”

“—Do you really think he should be wearing this—?”

“Um, okay,” Rhys frowned at the scene, hands on his hips as he took a close look at Jaxen’s outfit.

“Jack….c’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“You kidding? Not only is it just….ugh, okay, there’s the obvious, but then there’s the fact that it’s way too revealing for someone his age!”

“Please!” Jaxen shot back, pointing at his mother. “You let him go out in sexy outfits all the time, even to your fancy parties and stuff, so don’t try and tell me that I can’t do that! Like, what’s he even supposed to be, a sexy Mercenary Day tree?”

Rhys went bright red.

“It’s….actually, I’m a…sexy computer virus.” He picked at the hem of his motherboard-patterned shorts.

“So what!” Jack snarled. “He’s an adult, he can do what he wants! You’re still a frikkin’ kid who doesn’t understand the kind of creeps that’re out there!”

“To be fair,” Rhys interjected, before his clothing habits were discussed any further, “Cyrus is going with him, and he already promised he would keep a close eye out and be safe.”

Yeah,” Jaxen stated, arms crossing firmly over his chest as he smirked at his father. Jack looked helplessly at Rhys, lips still simmering in a growl.

“Okay….well….Cyrus’ costume better be pretty damn scary for me to feel any better about this.”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Rhys grinned, stepping aside as Cyrus trudged into the room with a bright smile on his face. Jaxen smirked triumphantly, and even Jack cracked a surprised laugh.

“Heh. All right, all right, you guys win,” Jack clapped Cyrus on the shoulder, preening at the boy’s pristine Handsome Jack costume. “It’s like lookin’ in a frikkin’ mirror….hoo boy you’re gonna terrify some degenerates tonight!”

With their father mollified, the boys were allowed to slip out the door and off to their party as soon as Jack was able to take several picture of himself posing dramatically alongside Cyrus.