button up front

it’s so weird hearing americans talk about Target© as some kind of semi-religious holy space of reasonably priced goods and services, bc in it’s short, fever-dream existence up here in the frozen north it was… Not Good. 

in my experience with the three (3) i went to in the surrounding area it was. uh. you know when you step into a place and there’s nothing immediately noticeably wrong but you can just Feel that this is a Bad Space? like the kind of space where if you catch a glimpse of your mother walking down an aisle and turning a corner you know it’s a demonic trick and if you follow her it’ll lead you down a path to a dark space you can’t return from?

or you go in with your friend who’s right next to you but you get a text from them saying “hey i’m in the shoe aisle, you should come here” and you know it’s a trap from the devil? like other things:

  • only half of the dim, washed out, often flickering fluorescent lights were lit at any given time, usually only every-other set, leaving these valleys of darkness that made entire aisles inaccessible for fear of shadow people latching on to your soul like a dark passenger. 
  • entire sections were just Empty. empty shelves with no product, never any employees filling them up, no boxes waiting to be unpacked, no signs saying what should be there.
  • no employees at all actually? wandering around the store even though the parking lots were full and you walked in with a group of 20 or so felt so lonely. you could walk the whole place and it was dead silent and the only other “people” around always were several aisles away with their back turned, unmoving. there was always only one cashier and there was never anyone in her line.
  • there was never any music on or announcements played? another place that does this are all the dollar trees in my area and it gives me anxiety. i feel like i’m being hunted, like i have to hold my breath and listen for the footsteps of beasts in other aisles. 
  • the fitting rooms had a strange, dark energy to them. it felt like if you ever used them, whatever universe you closed the door on would not be the same one you stepped out into when you were done. the washrooms also contained this same dark energy.
  • passing the employees-only doors felt like wandering too close to a bears den. the glass windows never showed anything going on back there, no racks of product, no employees milling around. it was just pitch black, complete darkness. a hungry void.
  • leaving a target was the same disorienting feeling as leaving a dark theatre and exiting into the light. sound and colour and feeling rush back in. you feel like you can breathe again. a weight is lifted from your shoulders. you can’t remember any of the time you spent inside the target.

it is my sincere belief that the targets in canada never existed. the storefronts were put up, yes, but the stores themselves were vast empty caverns filled with dark dreams and sinister interlopers attracted to the malignant leftover energies from zellers. passing through the automatic doors was meant to teleport us to the nearest american location, but something went wrong and we entered an unnatural zone halfway between the upside down and whatever it was that happened in the langoliers. 

i believe the balls outside target are carefully crafted and powerfully attuned magical artifacts that keep up the illusion known as Target©, but were incorrectly spaced in canada due to a mixup between the metric and imperial systems of measurement, and that is why the brief twilight zone episode that was canadian target collapsed virtually overnight.

I couldn’t help but notice the design of these trousers. 

MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER, PLEASE! 

I’m talking about the opening. 

NUH UH! STOP IT! I SAID STOP IT!

Anyway, being a bit of a history nut buff, I’ve looked as some real and replica garments from the Georgian era and I noticed that Loki is basically wearing Mr Darcy pants, also known as britches or breeches. 

Basically, before zippers and button up fly openings, trousers were a lot more elaborate and they fastened around the waist, then a flap buttoned up the front, like so. 

So, you know, if anyone’s wondering how to get Loki out of that get up, if you like history and historical garments, you’re welcome. 

Also, does this mean Loki is really just Mr Darcy in leather? 

Pieces of Clothing

Request: 
If requests are open, could I see a gender neutral reader with a poly Anti and Dark relationship and the reader likes to walk around in their shirts? What do they do the first time they see them do it? (Can b nsfw, I love your writing either way xx)

Originally posted by marielgum

It was laundry day. Meaning most of your clothes were in the machine being thrown around in soapy water. This also left you in a pickle of a situation where you had very little to wear around the house. 
But considering you weren’t planning on going anywhere today, and the weather outside was rain with chilling winds; you decided on one of the boy’s shirts. 
You knew by the material whose shirt you were sliding over your head. 
Anti wore cotton shirts, simple and bare of anything but one primary color. 
Dark wore mostly button-up shirts, ranging through a vast variety of material from silk to everyday polyester.
The closest you managed to grab was one of Anti’s shirts. A deep red color that had been lying on the floor. 
That was also another difference between your lovers. They were so different, even the small things could be told apart. 
Anti just threw his clothes around, where Dark would neatly fold and put them away if they didn’t need to be washed.

It was a very loose fit and it smelled strongly of Anti, which made you take a shamelessly deep breath. 
As you walked out of the bedroom, you went to check on the washing machine to see how long it had before it needed to be emptied. 
Unbeknownst to you, you passed the doorway of Dark’s study, to which the door was slightly ajar and Dark caught a glimpse of you in the cretin’s shirt. 
Eyes narrowing, Dark stood from his desk and went to hunt you down. Finding you removing the laundry from the machine and throwing it into the dryer beside it. 
“Am I mistaken in who’s day it is today?” Dark’s growling tone made you jump in surprise. You spun and went to ask what he meant, but then you looked down and you blushed. 
“I…I couldn’t find a shirt to wear.” You admitted with a small smile. 
Dark’s expression never faltered as he moved forward, his lips crashing against yours as he trapped you against the wall. 
His hands were quick to tear the shirt off your skin. The material falling away in shreds. And the sight of your naked body made Dark rumble in appreciation. 
He then started to unbutton his shirt, his lips never leaving your skin as he trailed firm kisses down your neck. Sucking and biting as he shrugged off the shirt. 
You all but whimpered as Dark pressed himself against you. His chest crushing you against the wall as his arms circled around you. 

Then he pulled away and you felt his silken shirt fall over your shoulders. 
Dark said nothing as he snaked your arms into the sleeves of the shirt, and buttoned up the front. 
Dark stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of your bruised lips. The way his shirt flowed over your body and the very obvious twitch in his pants when you looked up at him.
He pressed one last kiss to your lips before turning to leave. 
“Strike one, Pet.” He growled over his shoulder. “Next time I won’t be so considerate.” 


“Aw hell no!” You heard Anti yell from down the hallway. 
Before you could even turn around, the buttons of your shirt exploded outwards as Anti grasped the back of the shirt and yanked it off you. 
You yelped and spun, your arms flying up to hug yourself against the cold. 
“Anti! What the hell?” You exclaimed angrily. “That’s Dark’s shirt!” 
“Exactly right!” Anti snapped, waving the torn up material in front of you. “He ain’t here! It’s my day today and I’ll be damned if I see you flaunting that cute little ass in his shirt.”

Anti’s hand clasped around your wrist and he dragged you into the shared bedroom. 
He hissed at the open drawer of Dark’s clothes. Kicking it shut and moving to his side of the room. You bit your lip, amused by Anti’s sudden outburst. 
Since the two entities had agreed on certain days to spend with you, it became a routine to wear Dark’s clothes when he was around. Seeing the glint in his eyes and the small satisfied curl on his lips made it thrilling. 
But it also just became a habit to grab one of Dark’s clothing in the morning or after a shower. Since the guy practically took away all of your clothes. Forcing you to wear his button up shirts.
And you knew it had been the first time Anti has seen you in anything other than your own clothing. No doubt it annoyed Anti greatly to see you in his rival’s clothing.
You were torn from your thoughts as Anti came back to you and forced a large black shirt over your head. 
He let you arrange yourself in it. Stepping back to take in the sight of you in his shirt. You blushed, opening your arms and doing a little twirl for him to take in the sight.
Anti smirked, a wicked grin that spread across his lips. 
“Get your ass in bed, babe. I can’t miss an opportunity to fuck you in my own shirt.”

But before you could take a step towards the bed, Anti’s arms hooked under your thighs and lifted you up. 
He threw you down on the bed, crawling over you to consume you in a heated kiss. His body pushing you down into the blankets as his hands ventured under his shirt. 
Anti hummed as his fingers scraped across the softness of your skin. Squeezing and feeling his way around. 
“You’re not going to leave this bed until I’ve tasted every inch of your body, baby.” Anti purred in your ear.

“Flat out” - h.s. Part 5

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

—–

—–

You were tired and emotionally drained for what felt like the entire next week. With no classes to go to, and a job not available to you, you found yourself in the flat far more in one week than you felt you’d been there in the past month. You didn’t wear pants, drank a lot of hot cocoa, and caught up on way too much Netflix for things to be healthy.

Harry helped you clear everything from your bed – all your notes and textbooks and notebooks and extra papers and quizzes you’d kept to study just in case. He spent three days carefully organizing all of it on your desk and putting papers into folders and putting different textbooks all in order alphabetically.

You knew he was only doing it because he wanted to be near you to watch out for you without suffocating you or asking you if you were okay. You were just exhausted, and even when you walked – which was usually at a purposeful and quick speed that even Harry had to jog to keep up with from time to time – had slowly significantly to a languid and purposeless stroll.

So you allowed him to do his little organizing, stopping every once in a while to read a paper, or flip through the marked and worn pages of your textbooks. It occurred to him the ridiculous and meticulous amount of work you’d put into knowing every little thing, and he wondered if maybe it had just gotten to the point where you’d just started memorizing your textbooks. He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever worked this hard in his life. Sure, memorizing scripts or writing songs was difficult, but he always had others to back him up. And you were on your own. Your entire education was on your shoulders.

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Ground Rules // Patrick Hockstetter x reader

Originally posted by unbreathings

This was gonna be smut but I’m too tired so use your imagination I guess. I can’t get this boi or this song out of my head so it resulted in this mess. Enjoy under the read more. 

Warnings: suggestinve situations, Belch x reader if you squint really hard

I’m tagging: @pennywise-fucker @hockstetter1989 @henrybcwer @nicholashamilton @thotstetter bc i know you from the fandom. I’m also @whoarumancek if you wanted to know,,

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2

General Grant posing for a photograph, 1860s

For Love & Money Pt.1

PART ONE - PART TWO

Words: 4361

Genre: Fluff, Slice of life, Casual writing, (maybe eventual smut), Arranged/Forced Marriage!Au

Summary: For love, you foolishly lied to yourself. For money, you married a stranger. 

Notes: I got tired of writing so much angst haha. So this is completely the opposite lol From one extreme to the next, I swear. Oh yeah, I’m trying different styles of writing and different OC types…so the story’s a bit saucier. But yes..there is minimal pain in this story…enjoy~ 

Originally posted by bwibelle

Ringg Rinnggg.

“Honey is that you?” It’s your mother’s chirpy voice on the other line - you furrow your brows.

“Is everything okay? Your voice message said it was an emergency.” Suddenly your back is pushed against the wall.

“Yes…yes. Everything’s fine. Your father and I are fine.” Your mother hesitates. “It’s just that I was wondering if you would like to go on a dat-”

“A date?” The stranger presses their body against yours as their lips meet your neck, trailing kisses up and down. “No thanks mom.”

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The Wedding (Part 1)

@starss-eternal asked:  Yay! Congrats on almost 800!!! Can you do a Rowaelin wedding fic please!!!

Thank you! And I also got a liiiitle carried away on this one, so im splitting it into 2 (or more) parts.

Part 1 is 1200 words!

Send me a prompt to celebrate reaching 800 followers!


Rowan

“Big day today, prince,” Fenrys drawled, clapping my bare shoulder. “And an even bigger night afterwards, eh? At least, it would be if I were the one marrying Aelin-”

I cut him off with a growl, shooting him an icy glare. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. Just remember that.”

Fenrys smirked, teeth white against his bronze skin. “She’s not your wife yet, brother, I could still-“ I restricted the air in his lungs, causing him to gasp.

“Actually,” I said, baring my canines at him, “She is my wife. This is just the formal ceremony. Which I will gladly have you locked out of if you don’t shut your damned mouth.”

Was I being harsh? Probably. Did I care? Not really.

I glanced at the door, which had opened to reveal golden Ashryver hair and turquoise eyes. “What’d he do this time?” Aedion asked, hanging his freshly pressed suit coat on the rack.

I reeled in my magic, coiling the icy thread back into the depths of my being. Fenrys drew in a long breath of fresh air, glaring up at me. Honestly, it was his own fault. Usually, I could brush off Fenrys’ taunts and spit back some of my own. But today, my nerves were too frayed to react any other way.

“Insulted my wife.” With one last smirk in Fenrys’ direction, I slipped on my white shirt and buttoned up the front. I decided that I never wanted to wear a suit again in my life. The tightness of the fabric constricted the movements of my arms, making me feel more vulnerable than I ever had before. Aedion clucked his tongue at Fenrys, wagging a finger in his direction.

“Fenrys, you dumbass. You should know better than to fuck with him on his wedding day.” Aedion rolled his eyes, shoving Fenrys out the door despite his protests to remain. Thank the Gods.

“How do I look?” I asked, turning to Aedion and straightening my Terrasen green tie. The tie had been at my insistence, as Aelin had wanted me to wear the traditional black. But I wanted to display the pride I had in my country, and in its queen.

“Like a handsome groom,” he grinned, slipping his cufflinks through the holes in his sleeves. “Aelin’s gonna be drooling in the aisle.” I rolled my eyes, turning back to the mirror and running a shaky hand through my tousled hair. My eyes were shining with excitement and anticipation, appearing to be a darker forest green thanks to the tie.

“I think I’ll be the one drooling, if I know my mate at all.” Certainly, she’d pick out a dress that she knew would drive me crazy. I shrugged on my coat, giving myself a once over. My tattoos stood out starkly against my skin, which was darker than it had been in the previous months. I’d cropped my hair close to  my head, but left it long enough for Aelin to run a nimble-fingered hand through.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go make sure the ladies are ready? Aelin walks in ten minutes.”

Aedion barked a laugh. “Gods know they take forever to get ready.”

The moment he slipped out the door, I sighed. I glanced at my hands, clenching them into fists in an attempt to quell the shaking. Why was I so nervous? We were already married in the eyes of the gods, on that stolen night so many years ago. It wasn’t like she was going to suddenly reject me, not after everything we had been through.

No, she was stuck with this territorial Fae bastard forever.

***************

Aelin

Lysandra’s excited squeal grated against my ear drums as I stepped out from behind the screen, clothed in my wedding gown.

“Beautiful!” she exclaimed, causing me to wince.

“I know I’m drop dead gorgeous, Lys, but can you tone it down a little?” She rolled her eyes at me, reaching out to pick some lint off my dress.

“See for yourself.” Her green eyes sparkled when she gestured to the floor length mirror at the side of the room. I stepped over to it, gasping as I beheld my reflection.

It was a beautiful dress. The seamstress had done a wonderful job, the deep green silk hugging every one of my natural curves. The skirts hissed against the ground as I turned, peering over my shoulder. The lace-trimmed vee of the backless gown left my scars and tattoos on full display; the center of attention. I wanted them to be seen. I wanted everyone to know that I was not ashamed of the hell I went through for my people, and that I wouldn’t slink into a corner and let my past consume me.

“Wow,” I breathed, meeting Lysandra’s eyes in the mirror. A grin cracked my painted red lips. “Rowan’s going to loose his shit.” Her eyes widened slightly before she burst into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach. I followed suit, a carefree giggle bubbling out of me.

“And how do you think Aedion will react to mine?” She asked, sitting me down in front of the vanity to curl my hair.

“You could be wearing that bright orange ruffled atrocity we saw at the tailors and he would still loose his mind.” She laughed again, absorbed in her work. It was true though, the love those two shared was similar to that of Rowan and I. Unyielding, endless, and unjudging.

A knock sounded at the door, and Lysandra sashayed to open it. “Speak of the devil.”

Aedion’s golden blond head poked in the room, and he winked at her before letting his gaze roam over her, eyes clouding with lust as he surveyed the simple lace gown that left nothing to the imagination. I cleared my throat, snapping my cousin from his stupor.

“I don’t think Rowan is quite prepared for that dress,” he said, and I spun to give him a view of the back. He let out a low whistle, nodding in appreciation.

Definitely not prepared,” he laughed, then added softly, “It’s lovely, Aelin. He’s going to love it.” He glanced at the clock, sucking in a breath.

“I know, I know!” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m on in five minutes.” In five minutes time, I’d walk down the aisle to wed the love of my life. My brilliant Fae warrior, who beheld my scars and did not balk at the sight. The only male who knew every inch of my soul and still accepted me exactly as I was.

My Rowan.

“We’d better get going,” Lysandra chimed, smoothing the folds of her dress. “I’ll go ahead and make sure Rowan’s already left.” I nodded, taking the elbow that Aedion offered.

“Here we go.”

Do It Again - Ten (M)

Requested: Can you do a ten nct smut where its fem!dom pleeeeeease

A/N: I decided just to call him Ten in this… I also read somewhere that most women can’t orgasm from just penetration alone, so I incorporated that, I hope you like it~ Everyone wants to dominate NCT it seemsㅋㅋㅋ

**THIS IS SMUT, DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO**

Word Count: 1,404


“Ten!” you snapped, looking at him pointedly as he lazily brushed his teeth.

“Whut?”

“Hurry up, we need to leave in 11 minutes and you’re not even dressed yet.”

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Is That My Shirt?

A/N: Requested by @radxxregs . I have decided that flirty Bucky is my favourite Bucky and that I also got way too into this. It’s still a little shorter than I would’ve liked but it was fun to write! I hope you like it my dear c: 

Prompt: “Is that my shirt?”

Warnings: None just light teasing and flirting

Words: 956

Originally posted by justcuchu

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ML Fluff Month Day 4 - Please, stay?

Please, stay? 

Rated:
Pairing: Adrinette

For: @miraculousfluffmonth

ao3

Day 1 / Day 5

Marinette quickly stormed through the double doors of the large dining hall. Her thick heels clunked on the tile floor as she fled from the loud music that still blasted from the ballroom. Finally, she reached the stone railing with concrete steps on either side. Glancing down at her ruined dress, she sighed and picked off the gooey shrimp that was stuck to the pink with white polka-dotted fabric. She had worked so hard on this dress, but, of course, Lila felt the need to throw the entire shrimp with lobster sauce in Marinette’s direction.

Alya had immediately jumped into action as Marinette rocketed from her seat and left the ballroom in a hurry. She couldn’t help the slight guilt because this party was for the end of the school year, and Adrien had gushed to her about how excited he was to spend time with all of his classmates outside of school. Marinette leaded over the ledge, tears bubbling in her eyes. She couldn’t tell if she was crying more from all of her ruined work or from the guilt of running off on Adrien after he had gone through so much trouble to ask her out to their first formal event. She had been uneasy knowing that the party was being put on by Chloe, but with Lila’s distinct hatred for her, it wasn’t a surprise to her that Lila would pull such an act.

“I need to leave,” she mumbled as she wiped the wetness from her eyes.

She flinched when two arms wrapped around her middle in a comforting hug. “Please, don’t.”

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PROLOGUE SPOILERS REF GUIDE

alright, here are the prologue spoiler images that i have! (some i got from my own vita, i own the game.) at the end, i’ll go through each design and break it down so you know what to go for?

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4

So for June’s crop of Patreon request doodles we’ve got:

- Farah, not hating Madoka’s outfit as much as she would have expected. (Let’s be real, the ruffles aren’t her thing as much as they are Fred’s, but Farah gives points to Madoka’s costume for it being simple, buttoning up the front and not having a lot of pointless dangly shit going on)

- Fey Winds x Dragon Age Inquisition: I racked my brain for how a meeting between characters would go but it usually ended up with the FW folk being murdered because the DAI crew thought they were abominations… So instead, I picked my Favourite Precious Cinnamon Son Cole and team FW member I think he’d get along best with.

- Aeslinn, what she looked like when she started making music. This was probably followed by a long goth/metal phase before she transitioned into dark indie synth pop or whatever it is she does now ;)

- Lastly, Shattered Starlight x Persona 5: also a conundrum, because I haven’t played this one and didn’t want to spoil anything in case I do. I do know that cats turning into buses is a thing though…

Get a load of that jacket!  It’s so cool.  I got it at that sale I got some other vintage bits at, but I haven’t worn it with An Actual Outfit until now.  It looks super Elizabethan, even more so when I have the front buttoned up.  I feel like a stagehand at the Globe or something!

Also every time I wear a dress over jeans, my inner middle-schooler rejoices.

[Image description: one full-body photo of a young woman (me) with pink hair in a very short bob.  The front part of one side of my hair has been braided back from my face.  I am leaning on a metallic pink cane that I’m holding in my left hand.  I’m wearing a slightly sheer, orange-with-a-hint-of-brown dress that hits at about mid-thigh.  Over it, I have on a brown vest–a little of the dress is showing at the neck.  Under the dress, I’m wearing dark wash skinny jeans, which are cuffed at the bottom.  I have on patterned red socks and light brown hiking boots with black soles and dark red accents.  I’m wearing a black, yellow, white, red, green, and blue plaid shirt tied around my waist.  I have on a short, grey-brown leather jacket with sleeves that are a bit puffy at the shoulder and tight at the wrist, and a wide collar.  I’m wearing red stud earrings, big dangly gold earrings, and dark red lipstick.  As always, I have on my round, black glasses.]

I Need Your Help Part 10

Summary: Bucky gets an invitation to a family friends wedding and it turns out that his ex girlfriend will be attending as well. Panicked at the thought of seeing her, he asks you, his best friend to attend the wedding with him as his girlfriend in attempts to show his ex that he’s moved on.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: 40′s Bucky, swearing, shit goes down.

A/N: It makes me so happy that you guys like this and skfjefhjwehfuef I didn’t think you’d like my writing.


The wedding day was here. Everyone scrambled around the house as they got ready for Kenneth’s big day. Bucky tripped over his own feet three times already.

“Doll, have you seen my tie?” he questions, throwing the sheets off the bed in search for his tie.

“It’s hanging on the doorknob, Bucky.” you respond, buttoning up the front of your navy blue dress.

“Thanks.” he kisses your cheek before leaning over and grabbing it. You had your hair perfectly curled and you had just got done applying your red lipstick. “That’s gonna come off by tonight.” he points to your lips and you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you said last night and it didn’t happen.” you smirk. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s playfulness disappears at the mention of last night. The guilt was eating him alive. Why was he even feeling guilty? You two aren’t actually dating. Though, he wants to. Does he?

The events of last night flash through his mind, Carolyn’s hands roaming his body, her lips pressed to his as they trailed down to his neck, how it felt to be inside her.

“Bucky hurry up we have to get going.” Y/N snaps him out of his thoughts. He clears his throat and turns to Y/N.

“I can’t tie my tie. Can you do it for me?” he pouts, causing you to chuckle. You make your way over to Bucky and began tying his tie for him. He looked down at you with admiration before feeling his stomach knot up with guilt. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Y/N chuckles, shaking her head from left to right. “Yes Bucky, you always remind me.” she responds as she finished with your tie. Y/N looks up at Bucky with a smile on her face.

“I just want to make sure you know.” he tells her as he cups her face in his large hands. Bucky pecks her lips quickly before walking past her to find his shoes.

“Y/N? Bucky? Are you ready?” Winifred knocks at the door before opening it. She gasps when she sees you.

“Y/N! You look lovely.” she smiles as she walks up to you.

“Thank you Winifred, you look beautiful as always.” you compliment her.

Bucky smiles at the two of you. He loved how you and his mother got along. It was natural. Bucky knew his mother only pretended to like Carolyn.

“I’m ready.” Bucky speaks up as he stood next to you. Winifred nodded and you three go downstairs where George was waiting for his wife.

“Are you both coming with us in the car?” George asks Bucky and he shakes his head.

“No, Y/N and I will take my car.” Bucky responds. George nods and you all walk out onto the porch. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

You and Bucky get into his car and he drives off. “Buck.” you say, catching his attention.

“Hmm?” he hums as he keeps his eyes on the road.

“When are we going home?” you question. “Not that I want to leave, I absolutely love it here I-”

“I know Y/N.” he chuckles as he placed his hand on your thigh. “We’ll stay for two more days before going home. I never got to take you to the library. Is that okay with you?”

You smile. “Yeah.”


The ceremony was beautiful, everything was amazing and Doris looked so beautiful in her wedding dress. You were now at the wedding reception, sitting next to Bucky at a table with his parents and sister.

“This is so lovely.” Winifred gasps as she looked around the place.

“It is.” you agree, taking a drink of your water.

Once Winifred was done looking around, she turns to both you and Bucky. “When are you two going to get married?”

This question made you choke on your water. Bucky was quick to pat your back while you coughed.

“Are you alright?” Winifred asks, genuinely concerned.

“Yes.” you coughed once more. “Yes I’m okay.”

Everyone at the table leaned in a bit, waiting for your response to Winifred’s first question. The question that caused you to choke on your water.

“Uh, Bucky? Wanna answer that?” you say as you turn to Bucky. He tightened his grasp on the back of your chair at the sudden flip of attention.

“Um.. I, well.. Maybe it’s too early? We’ve only been dating for a year mom.” Bucky stutters out.

“I think you two are perfect to each other.”  George speaks and Winifred nods. They await for Bucky to say yes, he’ll ask you to marry him and Bucky sighs.

“I plan on marrying her some time in the future.” he says and they all smile.

“That’s good enough for me.” Winifred grins.

A slow song comes on and Bucky turns to you with a smile. “Bucky no.”

“Bucky yes.” he repeats from the night before. He stands up from his seat and extends his hand out for you to take. “May I have this dance?”

You look at him, trying to hide your smile but fail. You stand up and take his hand, allowing him to pull you onto the dance floor. He finds a spot in the middle and turns to you. His arms wrap around your waist as yours go to his neck, pulling him close to you. You both sway gracefully to the music and Bucky can’t help but think about how lucky he is to have met such a wonderful girl like you.

“Thank you Y/N.” he speaks. “For doing this for me. Not many people would.”

“No problem Bucky.” you respond.

You lay your head on his chest as you continued to dance with him. It was nice, just you and him. “I’m having a great time.” you murmur and Bucky smiles.

“I’m glad.” he responds. The songs ends and By The River Sainte Marie by Frankie Laine comes on and little Marilyn comes running through everyone.

“Auntie Y/N, can I dance with you?” she grins happily.

You look over at Bucky and he nods, stepping aside. “I’ll go get something to drink.” he kisses your cheek before walking away. You take Marilyn’s hands in your as you two began dancing together.

You were having so much fun. You would twirl Marilyn around, causing her to laugh and she would then try to twirl you. You both danced to two more songs - maybe three before the both of you were tired.

“Lets go get some water, yeah?” you suggest to the five year old. She nods her head and you lift her up in your arms as you made your way back to the table.

Kathleen smiled at you once you approached. “I’ll take her.” she reaches for Marilyn and you sit down next to her, gulping down water.

“Did you have fun?” Kathleen asks her daughter and Marilyn smiles as she nods her head. You look around the table, not seeing Bucky anywhere. He said he was going to get a drink. Maybe he went to the bathroom?

“Winifred have you seen Bucky? He said he was going to get a drink but I don’t see him anywhere.” you say as you scan the area once more. No sign of Bucky.

“I saw him walking over to the bathrooms but that was a while ago. I assumed he made his way back to you and Marilyn.” she replies and you quickly stand up. What if something happened to him? What if he got hurt?

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to go look for him.” you announce and both Winifred and Kathleen stand up.

“We’ll help.” Kathleen says.

“Thank you.” you smile at them.

“Marilyn go with grandpa, okay? Mommy will be back in a little.” she tells the five year old. Marilyn nods and runs over to George.

“Grandpa!” she exclaims and George smiles.

“Hey bug, wanna dance?” he questions and Marilyn nods her little head.

“Come on.” Winifred links arms with me and we walk off. “where should we look first?”

“The bathrooms maybe? Didn’t you say you saw Bucky go there?” Kathleen questions her mother and Winifred nods.

“Good idea.” she says. We head over to the bathrooms and Kathleen knocks on the mens door.

“Bucky?” she calls. No answer. “I’m gonna open it.”

“Kathleen no.” Winifred says and Kathleen waves her off.

“It’s only a peak, mom.” she says. Kathleen opens the door but no one was in there.

“Where could he be?” you mutter to yourself. Distantly, you could hear a noise coming from the girls restroom and you make your way towards it with Winifred and Kathleen behind you.

“Hello?” you knock twice before opening the door.

“Oh my god!” a girl gasps as she held her dress to her exposed body. Your eyes find their way to the guy who was trying to pick up his pants as quickly as possible.

You gasp as they turn to face you and your eyes quickly fill with tears. It was Carolyn and Bucky.

“Y/N.” Bucky breathes as he pushed past Carolyn to get to you. “I swear it’s not-” he grabs your arm but you yank it away from him.

“Don’t touch me.” you spat, turning around as your tears slid down your cheeks. “Excuse me.” you say to Winifred and Kathleen. They step aside and you rush past them, trying to find the exit quickly.


A/N: Woahhhhh

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anonymous asked:

id love to see some more angsty omega hux stuff. like maybe omega hux has long been bonded to a much older man and finds himself unhappy. in comes alpha and force user kylo ren, working with hux's general mate. basically omega hux pining from (not so) afar?

In another life, Hux knows he could have been a General. He’s confident in his own mind, in his own abilities as a natural strategist. Watching the war from afar, Hux knows that him being at the helm of the First Order like his father wanted him to be would bring the victory that the side so desperately needs.

If only he hadn’t been born an omega.

“Armitage, do try and at least act like you’re paying attention to me.”

Hux looks up from where he sits cross-legged in the middle of his bed to where his alpha stands at the closet, pulling out his formal attire.

“Sorry, sir,“ Hux says, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He sits up, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I’m listening.”

Hux’s movements make the bangles on his wrists and ankles rattle together to make gentle clinking sounds. It’s his outfits that set him apart from any other being on this ship; it’s the red harem pants that split up the sides revealing his pale thighs and calves to the world, its the golden bands around his upper arms and around his neck, its his bare feet, it’s the bite mark on his neck, it’s the fine golden chains that are fastened around his throat and chest every morning by one of the General’s servants, with a pendant of the First Order’s proud symbol in its centre.

Hux doesn’t belong to anything but the First Order, but not in the way he desires.

He wants to be its General.

General Randar rolls his eyes but smiles, approaching the bed, ungloved hand outstretching to tilt Hux’s chin up to him. Hux stares into his pale blue eyes, wishing he could find happiness; they’re mated after all. An omega is supposed to find strength and joy in his alpha’s presence, yet all Hux ever finds is a prison.

“My omega. Always daydreaming,” Randar says, kissing Hux softly on the lips before pulling away and turning back to his clothes. Hux refrains from wiping the excess saliva from his lips. “I was saying, you’ll have to entertain yourself tonight and the majority of tomorrow, my boy. The ship is preparing for the arrival of the Supreme Leader’s most skilled Knight. Kylo Ren, if my memory serves me well. Reckless and ruthless, people say. An alpha like no other.”

Hux feels a chill on his skin at the sound of the new alpha’s name. Kylo Ren. Something resonates within Hux at the name, something deep and something profound.

The bite mark—in the shape of Randar’s teeth—on Hux’s neck begins to itch, as though reminding him that he’s already mated, that Kylo Ren—no matter how alluring—can never be his. Hux feels a new wave of sadness wash over him, making him want to shiver.

“That’s alright. The First Order needs you. I understand.”

Hux shrugs, trying to focus on the man in front of him, the one he’s been bonded to since he was 20, for almost 11 years. Randar had been double Hux’s age when they’d mated, already greying in his early 40’s when Brendol Hux had pushed his bastard son into the open arms of the most powerful man in the First Order’s military, hoping to shed himself of the supposed weak omega.

“My good boy,” Randar says, buttoning up the front of his formal uniform over his bulging belly, brushing his short grey hair back into an orderly appearance. “So good for me. You always have been, haven’t you?”

“I try, sir.”

It’s true, Hux thinks, that he tries to make good things come out of his mating despite every fibre of his being wanting to escape. Randar, despite his age, has always treated Hux fairly well—which is more than he knows befalls other rare omegas in the galaxy—but there’s never been any real feelings for the alpha on Hux’s part. No attraction, no desire to be with him, no need to obey that goes beyond the fear of being punished.

“I know you do, Armitage,” Randar whispers, standing at the foot of the bed in his formal attire, staring down at Hux with a lust in his eye. “Maybe. I should reward you with something before I leave.”

Hux’s breath hitches as his alpha’s hands are suddenly on his knees, spreading his legs open, making him whine.

This is the part he hates the most, having to submit underneath the hand of an alpha he isn’t even attracted to, an alpha he doesn’t respect.

“Sir–you’ll be late,” Hux moans but Randar’s hand has already slipped beneath the waistband of Hux’s baggy pants and, always without undergarments, finds the tip of the omega’s slack cock with ease.

“I can make time for someone who worships me,” Randar coos, climbing inbetween his mate’s spread legs, continuing to fondle him.

Hardly,’ Hux thinks. ’Never.’


Several days later, when General Randar is on duty but due back to their quarters at any moment, Hux lies on their bed, awaiting his imminent return.

He’s adorned his most ravishing of outfits; a gold band sits around his slim waist with a green loincloth hangs from two clips on either of his sharp hips, covering his modesty. He’s replaced his usual golden bangles with cuffs, thicker and sturdier. His alpha prefers the cuffs, he says they suit him better. Hux knows they make him look more like a prisoner.

Chains hang down from his collar, wrapping around his torso in parallel lines, cascading between his ribs and defining his thinness, his lack of muscle, though Hux knows the only muscle that truly matters in this world is his brain.

He lies on his side on the bed, champagne on the table, eyes locked on the door. His alpha should be pleased with the spectacle Hux has created. Maybe if he’s good, Randar will let him onto the bridge to see…to see Kylo Ren.

Before Hux’s thoughts can linger on the new alpha, there comes a heavy knocking on the door, four harsh punches to the metal make Hux jump up, startled. His heart pounds, mind reeling. It’s a possibility that omega hunters have found their way here, ready to steal away the General’s prized pet.

Not without a fight, they’re not.

Hux sits upright on the bed, fists clenched, ready to brawl his way out of here if he has to.

But when the door is forced open, literally, and the angered figure is standing tall and leering in the doorway, all of Hux’s will to fight leaves him.

It’s him. Kylo Ren. The alpha.

Hux can only stare at him, the black-clad and masked man, as he strides angrily into the General’s quarters, breath seemingly distorted through his mask.

“Where is he?” Kylo growls, storming past Hux on the bed and into the fresher.

“Er–The General? He’s on duty. But you can’t just barge in here–”

“I’ll do as I please,” comes the alpha’s quick reply. “He’s a weak-minded old fool who thinks himself the strongest alpha on the ship.”

Hux huffs, sitting back.

“Tell me something I’m not aware of.”

And Kylo seemingly falters, turning back to look at Hux over his shoulder.

“You’re his mate,” Kylo says.

“Obviously.”

“You’re an omega.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Again. Obviously.”

He looks up at Kylo, feeling his skin prickling at merely being in his presence. It’s intoxicating, it’s spectacular, and it’s something that Hux has never felt with his mate.

“I’ve never met an omega before,” Kylo says, and Hux imagines him smiling.

“Well, we’re nothing special,” Hux shrugs playfully, standing up off the bed, ensuring that his loin cloth falls perfectly between his legs. He saunters to Kylo, making sure that every beautiful curve of his body is moving, tempting those that can’t have him.

Or so it’s meant to be.

“We’re only the most sought after creatures in the galaxy,” Hux says, running his tongue across his teeth. He stands chest-to-chest with Kylo, absently admiring the thickness of the alpha’s body. “Rarer than the five-leaf clovers of Altaria, rarer than the rainbows of Jakku. And I’m already claimed. Forbidden.”

Hux slides his fingertip up the centre of Kylo’s chest, imagining the shape of his pecs underneath his layers of robe.

Kylo groans through his mask, making a purely animalistic sound that awakens something dormant in the pit of Hux’s stomach. The alpha’s hands are suddenly moving, and Hux’s breath hitches, thinking that he’s going to be touched by one that he craves for one, but Kylo’s hands reach up to his mask. The clasps hiss as they’re unlocked, and Hux gasps when the alpha’s face is revealed.

He’s young, strong, and Hux knows its love.

“Master Ren…I–” Hux finds himself speechless. Instead, he reaches up to caress the alpha’s cheek, counting every freckle and mole on his face, wishing that the alpha would make marks of his own on Hux’s milky flesh.

“Ssh,” Kylo says, grabbing Hux’s wrist, bringing his knuckles to his lips. “Please. Call me Kylo.”

Hux melts, feels his insides shatter into pieces that want to be fixed by this alpha’s hands.

Kylo’s lips are impossibly soft.

And Hux is impossibly lost.

Shutter Speed Ch. 3

I am so sorry this took so long to write but I made it extra long for you guys and I hope it’s okay! 

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | AO3 


“What do you mean you met her?” Jughead asks, walking into their apartment, Archie trailing behind him.

“I mean exactly what I said. I met your model, Betty,” Archie says, like it’s the simplest statement he has ever said.

“I’m confused. How did you meet her, and where was I?” Jughead asks, dropping his bag on the couch and turning around face Archie, who rolls his eyes.

“I bumped into my friend Veronica, that girl I was telling you about from my class? Who I really like and talk to all the time?” he looks at Jughead expectantly, who just shrugs. “Anyways, they were shopping together, and I met her. You were off finding a shirt, and I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d freakout. So I told you now.”

Jughead sits on the couch, looking thoughtful. He stares at the floor, tapping his finger on his knee before glancing back up at his friend.

“What was she like?” He asks quietly, eyes looking hopeful. Archie smirks and plops down on the couch next to him.

“She was nice, really nice. Seemed a bit shy I guess, because I was a complete stranger I’m guessing. But really nice and polite.” He turns to Jughead, smirking and nudging his shoulder. “Even cuter in real life, too.”

“Oh, shut up dude. This is strictly business,” Jughead explains, not able to stop the blush that creeps up his face.

“Oh yeah? Gonna get down to business, in the bedroom maybe?” Archie smirks, continuously nudging him. Jughead takes a pillow from beside him, hitting Archie in the head with it. He just laughs and tries to block it, catching it after a few hits and holding onto it. He grins maniacally at Jughead, who groans and gets up, walking to his room.

“I hate you and I’m never telling you anything about my life ever again,” Jughead mutters as he stalks to his bedroom.

“Love you too, Juggy!” Archie calls as the door is slammed.


Jughead would be lying if he said he didn’t get excited when he saw Betty answered his email. He responds quickly, suggesting a time that works for both of them. He wants the shoot to start at his apartment, since he had the equipment he needs already. He tells her the address, and tells her if she needs to bring someone along to help her with her makeup or anything, she can. He leans back in his desk chair, looking up to the ceiling with his hands behind his head. A small smile plays on his lips as he imagines the shoot in his mind. He wants it to be simple, doesn’t want to go all out for his first shoot. He thinks his apartment has enough good areas to use as a backdrop. And if Betty is willing to do another location, he knows the perfect location. He couldn’t wait. Saturday could not come fast enough.

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