<b>Jyn:</b> My boyfriend is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. What should I do?<p/><b>Leia:</b> Punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him.<p/><b>Han:</b> Tackle him.<p/><b>Baze:</b> Dump him.<p/><b>Mara:</b> Kick him in the shin.<p/><b>Cassian:</b> NO TO ALL OF THOSE! JUST ASK ME TO LEAN DOWN!<p/></p>
Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors
and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find
Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about
dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,855
language, fluff, angst, confrontation, drinking, cheesy romance, kissing, implied sexytimes, somewhat nsfw but not really, a potentially wasted beautiful meal
A/N: This is my last submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. I did it! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”
I woke up with the urgent need to pee, reached for the switch on my bedside lamp and with a click, nothing happened. I forgot, the bulb burnt out just after I got into bed. I’ll let dad know in the morning.
Now, to the bathroom across the hall, but why was I hesitant? My dad always tells me to turn the lights on before getting out of bed, and leave them on until I’m safely back in bed. He always says “it’s for your own safety”. I guess he’s concerned I might trip and hurt myself. I’m sure it’ll be fine, though, just this once. The room is lit well enough by the moonlight and I can see just about everything.
I crept out of bed, across the hall, and did my business in the bathroom, with the lights on, of course. I flicked the lights out and went back to my room.
Halfway to my bed I realize there’s something there, in my bed. It looks like a woman lying there, eyes closed, wearing white, with skin so pale I can’t tell where the clothes end. Her hair is so dark it blends seemlessly into the shadows around her.
Frozen in fear I stare. Her head turns towards me ever so slightly, while a grin creeps just a little too far across her face. Her eyes open to reveal two gaping voids where eyeballs should have been.
“I see you” she whispers.
Click all the room lights came on, and she was gone. I spun to the source of the sound and there stood my dad.
“Don’t forget the lights” he reiterated, staring past me to where she’d been.
Summary: You’re retired, living a quiet and secure life when your ex, Steve Rogers, turns up on your doorstep with his best friend, seeking refuge. (bucky x reader, enhanced reader)
Prompt(s): Okay I know I already wroteNight Walks with these prompts but I really wasn’t happy with it, so here is attempt #2. @pandarositarequest: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky?
93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.” 94. “I had a bad dream again.” Plus anon request: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”
Warnings: swearing, fighting, deathy stuff and the aftermath.
Word Count: 3671
Author’s Note: The angst train’s brakes aren’t working. Prepare for a trainwreck. :) Remember that I love you.
Tony finally made it to the end of your long drive and
stepped out of his car. Pieces of polished red metal immediately shifting into
place around his body as you stepped down from the porch, looking casual and
“Y’know most people call first,” you called to him, testing
the waters, “and it works out for everyone, see, because then I can tell them
to rent an SUV with snow tires, not a…” you paused, leaning to the side to peer
around him at the flashy car that was just so Tony. “Bugatti?”
“Really? I thought you liked surprises?” he fired back,
walking casually to the front of the car, face mask open, holding his hands out
to the side in mock surprise.
I would just like to point out that YES Lena did suggest Kara publish the information as a blog, but then after Kara said Snapper would be angry if she did that, Lena THEN suggested she would dig around L-Corp’s financials to find traces of Lillian’s involvement.
“Maybe she left something behind? Trail of breadcrumbs? Could be your second source!”
She probably noticed Kara was hesitant with her initial idea and then offered to do everything in her power to help Kara in a way that Kara was comfortable with, ie: publish the article the right way, through Catco, with more sources as per Snapper’s demand.
So don’t come for Lena on that.
If Kara had asked Lena before pressing publish, I bet Lena would have listened to Kara’s reservations and talked them through with her, or offered other ideas on how to disseminate the information instead of just blindly saying she should publish it because she thinks it’s what Kara wants to hear. (And there’s no way of knowing this for sure of course, but the above does seem to be how Lena and Kara’s relationship has gone, they actually talk about things and push each other to be better or think about things differently).
Mon-El on the other hand seems to be a pendulum right now. For the better part of the season he was thinking he was right about everything, now he’s just deferring to telling Kara she’s right about everything. And neither of those extremes are healthy in a relationship at all. A relationship is give and take, it’s about helping the other person be the best version of themselves, by offering solutions as well as listening.
hmm… tinfoil hat theory here: but we’ve seen with Eren & Historia that people can access memories not belonging to them.
Could it be that Gallard tried that trick with attempting to see his brother’s memories, as Rod used showed Historia Grishas, but couldn’t, but did see Ymir’s?
Supporting evidence 1: Gallard never says he ate Ymir, and when we see him standing in front of her he’s in similar clothes to what he is wearing in the present.
No signs of syringes, no rolled up sleeves or third person ready to inject him.
Could it be that since he last saw Reiner he went and visited Ymir in whatever location she is being held?
Supporting evidence 2: Ymir’s Titan looks like Gallard’s.
Now that might seems like it should be in the against it column, but consider this: Isayama is a grade A troll (sub note: Bert going to bite his hand at Utgard).
Ymir’s shifter form looks exactly like her regular titan form, something we’ve not seen at any other time (the albeit brief glimpses of Eren and Armin show radical differences). The other noticeable difference with Ymir vs other shifters is that she was a regular titan for 60 odd years, while most are for a few minutes at most.
Conclusion: It’s pretty darn weird that Ymir’s regular form looks so much like Gallard’s shifter form (not to mention the picture book shenanigans). It’s all rather convenient… a little too convenient.
Additionally Gallard says she also wanted to bring back Marcel’s “Jaw” - this could be taken to mean that is the titan designation he now bears, but he doesn’t confirm it. After all he says he was chosen for the operation nine years ago as well - so did he get his titan then?
For instance if he is actually saying (official translation pending):
“This never would have happened if, nine years ago, when I was chosen for the operation on Paradis Island… I had been given the armoured titan instead of you”
Meaning he could be bitter he was given a different titan which meant he stayed back in Marley territory, so wasn’t there to protect his brother.
After all there are NINE titans:
1. King - Uri / Frieda / Grisha / Eren
2. Attack - Owl / Grisha / Eren
3. Colossal - Bert / Armin
4. Female - Annie
5. Armoured - Reiner
6. Jaw - Marcel / Ymir
7. Beast - Zeke
8. Quad - Piku, Piek or however its spelt
If Gallard does have Ymir’s titan, we’re still missing one - who given how the Marley have been talking about their war effort should have been fighting with the others, or at least mentioned - so it could well be that Gallard is actually the as yet unnamed 9th titan and Ymir is just being held captive.
“But why would they just hold her captive not take her power back?” I hear you ask.
Well for one, she’s shown herself to be a (somewhat) willing prisoner, and thus a source of information about the wall society / military. She’s also shown herself as having rather flexible loyalty towards the vast majority of people in the walls.
And secondly, she’s leverage against the only other branch of the royal family outside Zeke and (translation & horrifying implications for the other, especially female, shifters pending)
If the Marley forces want to get control of the coordinate (seeming to be unaware of the First King’s trap), they want / need a royal bloodline. So
a reasonable plan would be to defeat Eren so they can get their control over the co-ordinate and the titans, then use Ymir as bait to get Historia to come with them, and have more royal blood available and a puppet to take over the island more peacefully.
Thirdly, if Gallard has been a shifter as long as Reiner, the Marley might not have had a suitable candidate to take over Ymir’s titan - Gabi, Falco and co are all still around 10-12 years old, so when Ymir arrived they probably would have only just begun their training.
So if Ymir was a passive prisoner there would not have been the urgency to take the power from her, especially as we’ve seen with Eren how hard it is for someone to learn to control their power.
Additionally with the Marley’s comparatively advanced technology they would find it easier to keep Ymir contained even if she did turn hostile - put her in a concrete vault with only narrow staircases out and she’d have a very hard time escaping.
And lastly, from a narrative point of view, there are very few deaths that have not been shown explicitly - especially of named characters. So while it is possible Isayama hecked this up big time, that we weren’t shown regular titan Gallard standing before a chained up Ymir, but rather casual wear Gallard, feels significant.
Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader, BestFriend!Cheryl
Request: Yes and no
Summary: After days of Jughead avoiding her, [Y/N] finally plucks up the courage to fix her mistakes and figure out what was really bothering her ex-boyfriend, but she didn’t expect what had ticked his brain.
Word count: 4,569
A/N: This is the last part of this mini-series! Hope you guys like it. So sorry that it came so late. I’ve been drowning in school work. The last part of this is very rushed but I hope it’s okay. There will be no other parts to this.
Um, so I just watched “The Sign of Four,” and if you know anyone who somehow isn’t convinced that Granada totally intended for a queer reading of their Sherlock Holmes, have them watch the last two minutes of this episode, when Mary Morstan leaves 221B. Seriously. TWO MINUTES, and they are so laden with meaning that I was stunned.
After the case is solved, Ms. Morstan is with them at 221B and she talks about how tired they both must be. Holmes says something to the affirmative while walking into another room, basically dismissing her. Ms. Morstan and Watson share some extended eye contact more than once, like they have been throughout the episode, and she leaves. Then Watson and Holmes have an incredibly loaded conversation about what Holmes gets out of a case where he gets no credit, and Watson goes to sit and watch from the window as Ms. Morstan gets in her carriage.
I can’t get over it. I may write another entire meta on the double meaning in Holmes’ and Watson’s conversation about the case and the visual choices in the scene, cuz it’s all great, but I NEED to talk about the last few moments.
Well, this is the random plot bunny I had earlier today. I really have NO idea where this is going. I’m really intrigued by it though, so we’ll all have to wait and see I suppose. Tell me if you think I should continue on with this or just let it die. Not sure how many parts it should/will have.
I don’t think I’ve ever written anything with Geillis in it before, so I’m not sure how well it works. Let me know what y’all think!!
Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a practical woman - belief in fairy tales, knights in shining armor, and love everlasting just didn’t have a place in her life. Geillis Duncan, her best friend and roommate, was the complete opposite. Claire often wondered to herself how they’d become friends, with so little in common.
“I don’t believe you,” Geillis said one night, tossing her thick, blonde hair over one shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. That has no bearing on the truth.”
Geillis’ green eyes rolled hard and she finished her glass of whiskey.
“How can you not believe in true love?”
“Because it doesn’t exist! Love is just a chemical reaction between two people who find each other visually appealing. Nothing more.”
“You mean to tell me,” Geillis said, sitting forward in her seat. “That you don’t believe your parents didn’t love each other?”
The blood drained from Claire’s naturally pale face.
“That was low and you know it.”
“Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean you should avoid it. They loved each other, didn’t they?”
“I wouldn’t know. I was too young when they both died. You know that, Geillis. Why would you bring it up?”
Her best friend, and often best source of irritation, stared at her curiously.
“There’s something about you, Claire. Always has been. Like you belong somewhere else.”
Claire grabbed Geillis’ bottle of her favorite whiskey and looked at it dramatically.
“Exactly how much was in this when you started drinking?”
“I’m not drunk! But I believe you are the product of true love, and that’s a rare thing. EVEN IF,” she said loudly to interrupt Claire’s protest. “You don’t believe in it, I do. And true love is the most powerful magic in the universe.”
With a sigh, she put the cap back on the whiskey and took her empty glass to the kitchen. They’d had this discussion before, at least a hundred times. But Claire was a practical woman. True love wasn’t practical or useful.
A small part of her, and she’d never admit this to Geillis, also believed no man had yet been worthy of her love - had she any to give. Even the one she was currently seeing was a calculated choice, not an infatuation. Frank was smart, had a successful career as a university professor, and had a good future. Herself newly finished with her medical training, she saw a comfortable future with Frank. Perhaps a child or two, once they got married. He was the practical choice, a good match of intellect and physical attraction. What else was there to look for in a man?
“You talk like you’ve felt this elusive true love before.”
“And what if I have?” Geillis asked from the depths of her room. “Would that change anything for you?”
“I can count on one fist the number of men you’ve loved, Geillis Duncan. We’ve been friends far too long for you to get away with that.”
Geillis returned to the front room dressed in her favorite baggy shirt and trousers, ready for their weekly film date.
Claire held up a fist and tried to count her fingers.
“That’s… None. Geillis, you’ve never been in love with anyone.”
“That is not true! I fall in love all the time! I LOVE love!”
“Nooo,” Claire said slowly, walking down to her own room. “You fall in lust. You bring him home, shag the hell out of him, and send him packing before the sheets have cooled.”
As she, too, dressed in her sleeping outfit, she heard Geillis snort.
“Just because I fall in love all the time doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”
“I long for the day,” Claire said, emerging as Geillis put a DVD into the player. “When you finally meet the man you’re just meant to be with. We’ll see what you say then.”
Those too-green eyes lit and glinted at her.
“You said when. Not if. When. As if you believe it could happen…”
“It could happen to you, perhaps. Not to me. I don’t have any use for those sorts of things.”
Geillis hit play on the DVD remote, but turned to face Claire on their small couch.
“What if I could prove it.”
“Hush, Geillis. The film is starting.”
After making a sound of irritation, she paused the movie and waited for Claire to look at her.
“So? What if I could prove it?”
“But if I could?”
Claire shrugged, at a loss. She had no idea what it was Geillis was getting at.
“What if you could? What do you want?”
“I want you to fall in love. That reckless, all-consuming passion. You can’t expect me to believe that beanpole you’re seeing is a good lover.”
Claire’s face, always too easy to read and too pale, flushed deep red. Geillis smiled, smelling victory.
“I’ll have you know Frank is an excellent lover. NOT that it’s any of your business.”
“Would you leave Frank if you knew there was something better out there, waiting for you? If I could prove to you that true love does exist?”
With a sigh, Claire knew they’d never get this movie properly started while Geillis was fixated on something.
“If, and that’s a very BIG if, you could prove to me, without a doubt, that true love exists and I have some bloody soul mate waiting for me out there, yes. I’d leave Frank.”
A triumphant smile came to Geillis’ lips and she settled back in her seat, smug. There was no way in hell Claire would leave Frank, though. But she knew Geillis well enough by now to know that the only way to get her to stop was to give her what she wanted.
“Good. Because we’ve an appointment with a powerful psychic tomorrow.”
Claire barely contained her moan of irritation. This wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, that Geillis had dragged her to some psychic’s shop to have her palms read. The only benefit from those trips came in the form of Geillis paying for both their sessions and taking her out to lunch after.
“Besides,” Geillis said, hitting ‘play’ on the remote again. “It’s not as if Frank’s even proposed yet.”
Grudgingly, Claire followed her crazy best friend into a very ordinary looking shop. There were no signs or posters anywhere advertizing it as a psychic’s place of business. It didn’t really look like a shop at all, really. Claire was beginning to wonder if Geillis had set her up on a blind date. Again.
“Geillis, if you’ve-”
She stopped suddenly when she saw a large figure looming in a doorway.
“Morning, ladies. I take it you’re my first appointments?”
“Yes,” Geillis said, popping up from nowhere. “We are. I’m-”
“Please,” his deep, strong voice came. “Don’t tell me anything. It taints the reading.”
He stepped out from the shadows and Claire looked up to meet his eyes. They were a curious shade of blue, seemingly shifting in hue as she looked at them. The hair on his head was short and bright red, with a hint of a curl at the very tips. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.
“I’ll see you first,” he announced abruptly.
Claire was about to protest and insist that Geillis had the first appointment, but he didn’t wait for her to agree. Instead, he turned and strode off into a back room, clearly expecting Claire to follow.
“Geillis you owe me,” she hissed as she rushed after him.
“Tell me everything!” Geillis called back.
The room was nothing like she expected. No crystal balls on a red velvet tablecloth, no candles or incense burning, no dim lighting or macabre art on the walls. It was quite simply, a plain sitting room. A small table had a teapot and settings for two, biscuits, and two large, comfortable looking chairs.
“Would you like some tea, Miss Beauchamp?”
Her mouth fell open, staring up at him.
“No,” he interrupted. “Geillis didn’t tell me anything about you. I’m not even the one that makes appointments.”
“So what are-”
She cut herself off when he offered her a cup of tea.
“You think I’m a fraud.”
Hiding her face behind the elegant cup, she tried to come up with an answer.
“That wasn’t a question, Miss Beauchamp, but a statement of fact.”
“Not your first time visiting a psychic then?”
Claire’s eyes rolled.
She was in the habit of giving out as little information as possible. That was how the others had worked, sucking information out of you until they could lie enough to convince you to believe it.
“I’m Jamie Fraser. When you’ve finished with your tea, I’ll read the leaves.”
“No crystal balls or seance?”
He shot her a wicked grin and shook his head.
“Well we’re not here to call up the dead, are we? I was given to understand you’re looking for your soulmate.”
Yet again, her mouth fell open.
“I… How did-”
“I’m very good at reading people, Miss Beauchamp. And you are quite an easy read, more so than most.”
“How in the hell do you always know what I’m about to say?!”
“Everything you think is written across your face, plain as day. As for the other things, well… Let’s just call it a family trait. My sister also has the Sight, though not as strong as mine. Her children will likely not inherit the gift, though it could still happen. How about we take a look at those leaves, hm?”
Handing the cup over, Claire fell silent and waited. Jamie got up and pulled an old book from a table in one corner, flipping through it for reference. His brows drew down in puzzlement.
“So tell me, oh seer. Am I to meet a tall, dark stranger and go on an adventure?”
“I’ve never seen leaves like this before,” he said absently, still staring at the table. “No’ in my whole life.”
She blinked in shock at the slip of an accent. Was he not an Englishman?
“I’d like to read your palm, if you don’t mind,” he said, sitting up suddenly. “It’ll be a part of your appointment. Won’t charge extra.”
“Oh, um… Alright?”
Holding her hands out, palm up, she offered them to him. He leaned over them, tracing the lines in her skin.
“This is quite unusual indeed.”
“I’ve never seen a lifeline forked like this. As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.”
“Which one? What sort of choice?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer those. But I can see you’ve a strong will. Always a good thing in a woman.”
His large fingers still traced her hand, warm against hers.
“Miss Beauchamp, would you mind returning later in the week for another reading? I’ve a few things I’d like to research and ask some experts about. You’re quite a mystery and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”
“I don’t think-”
Meeting those unusually blue eyes, she watched them shift and change.
“Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve taken up yours and Geillis’ appointments and my next client will be here soon.”
“Something tells me Geillis won’t mind.”
“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”
As soon as the women had left the house, Jamie slipped to the back and went up the stairs. He lived on the floor above where he met clients. Most were what anyone would expect, people seeking to remove the veil of mystery from the future. Few came looking for real answers and fewer still came and didn’t believe any of it.
But this Claire Beauchamp… He was sure they’d never met before, and yet he knew her. Knew her face, the way her tawny eyes evaluated the words he spoke. Somewhere in his mind, he knew the taste of her full lips, knew the feel of her body beneath his. He knew the sounds she made in the throes of passion, or her grunt of irritation when something didn’t work the way she hoped.
There was no other appointment after Geillis and Claire, that had been a lie. But he needed to check something, just to be sure. Throwing open the door to his library, he went straight for a shelf he’d scarcely looked at in five years.
Each leatherbound book had a date on the side. They were his dream journals, or the dreams he was sure had been visions. He hadn’t had a dream like that in some time, not since his father’s passing, but he had a niggling feeling.
Closing his eyes, he opened the book and began turning the pages without looking. He suddenly stopped, feeling that he’d reached the right place. When he looked down, his heart began to beat erratically.
Sketched on one entire page was the woman he’d just met with. Her gaze was piercing, even in a sketch, and he felt as if she was looking right at him. The dark, curling hair was wild around her, not fully contained on the page. Her lips curved with the hint of a smile, like she knew something he didn’t.
Hastily, he turned the page. Only a short passage was written on the back.
I must find her. I have dreamt of her every night for a month, in flashes. I do not know her, but I know she is my very soul. She is the only person I might love. For the White Lady born of True Love could be the only match for Red Jamie. I. Must. Find. Her.
The sound of my phone alarm, blares through the empty house. I
swiftly reach to turn it off before rolling over and settling my eyes on the
empty spot beside me. It’s been over a month since y/n left and for some reason
I still expected her to be there. Maybe that was the issue, that’s why we
didn’t work out. I always expected her to just be around.
I bring my hands to my face and wipe the sleep from the corner
of my eyes before sitting upright and stretching my back. I try my best to
shake the thought of her from my mind, pulling my phone into my hands and
checking my social media. A majority of it was plagued with tweets from fans
all reading some variation of “Why did you and y/n break up?” or “Are you guys
getting back together?” I scroll until I see am image that catches my eye. It’s
a beautifully drawn image with the caption “For the album”. I waste no time
hitting the retweet button and adding a few words of my own, “This is insane!”