I know this isn’t a new chapter of one of my WIP, but writing has been hard for me and I was gonna take anything I could get. Also I’m not sure this fic translated well from my head to the page but oh well, I’ve managed to write something for the first time in weeks.
no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold
gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can
even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.“ – American Psycho
“But I’m asking you now, right now, if you love me, Archie?
Or even… like me?” Betty’s eyes were impossibly wide, shimmering verdantly with
unshed tears beneath the streetlamp in front of the Cooper residence, her lower
lip red with worrying.
“Of course I love you, Betty!” Archie implored. “But I can’t
give you the answer you want,” he finished with a sympathetic sigh, his thick
brows knit together with torment; he could see how his words were hurting his
closest friend, the first tear rolling down her cheek with a defeated blink.
“Why?” she asked, trying to keep some of the exasperated
desperation out of her voice, but knowing that she’d ultimately failed. The
pity in Archie’s expression somehow hurt more than his rejection.
“You are so
perfect. I’ve never been good enough for you. I’ll never be good enough for you.” Betty couldn’t look at him anymore,
averting her eyes as she nodded in disbelief. Perfect. The very thing that she’d tried so hard to be in the hopes
of gaining more than something akin to brotherly affection from her lifelong
neighbour, and here it was being thrown back in her face. She’d truly outdone
herself, reached her mark and soared above, according to the redheaded boy
taking anxious steps towards her in comfort. Unable to find her voice she
turned before he could reach her and closed the door on him softly, knowing
even then that he wouldn’t be far away, that she couldn’t escape him, still not
knowing whether she even wanted to.
Betty tread dejectedly up the stairs, hoping that her
footsteps didn’t sound as leaden as they felt, not wanting to alert the rest of
the household to her humiliation. She wrapped herself back in the fleece-lined,
pink blanket she’d thrown over herself as soon as she’d reached the sanctity of
her bedroom after leaving Cheryl’s and hit play on her laptop. The familiar
scenes of Casablanca continued to
play, like they had so many times before, on the screen but somehow they felt
different now, tainted. Her whole body felt restless and uncomfortable, as if
her mind had been housed in something foreign and ill-fitting and Betty slammed
the lid of her computer with a little more force than necessary.
She couldn’t stand to be here a moment longer, inside her
pristine, pink prison cell, mere feet away from the boy she’d imagined would
finally agree to be hers this year. They’d been floating in this bubble of
suburban idealism for their entire lives, drifting from milestone to milestone,
Betty setting up the scenes like something out of a Nora Ephron movie, hoping
beyond hope that Archie was playing out his part when her character was out of
shot. And then Veronica Lodge has swept into Pop’s, the epitome of a brief encounter, and the bubble burst, and
Betty was left realising that she’d been the only one who’d read the script.
Hello, maybe you can write future bughead fanfiction? You know, bad guy and good girl ;)
Hey! I sort of grouped a couple similar requests together for this one. It’s AU (since I picture Bughead endgame ;) but I hope you like it!)
Of All The Gin Joints
Jughead Jones couldn’t believe his eyes - had Betty Cooper just walked into the bar he was sitting in?
The beautiful blonde had dated him for a couple months during sophomore year, making him extremely happy. They broke up amicably and stayed friends until high school graduation. Time had slipped away from them, however, when they moved states apart, and they slowly lost touch.
Betty’s hair was free and had grown longer since Jughead had seen her last. It was blonder, somehow, too.
She was wearing a short, sleeveless black dress, carrying a purse, and had on heels that made her legs look even longer.
She looked quickly around the bar, searching for an open spot.
She strolled over to an open chair at the bar, hooked her purse on the edge of the seat and sat down.
Jughead couldn’t believe what was happening. He quickly turned his head to focus on the blonde sitting next to him.
“In all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world and she walks into mine.” Jughead murmured, leaning closer to her.
A smile spread on Betty’s face as she looked at him. “I’m sorry, do I - oh my god. Jughead Jones?”
She took in the sight before her - his hair was just as long as always, but he was no longer wearing his beanie. The curl still hung in front of his face.
He was wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans, tattoos visible from under the sleeve of his jacket. His hands looked rough as he handled the drink in front of him, and he had slight bags under his eyes.
“How have you been?” Betty asked excitedly as Jughead waved down the bartender for her. “A whisky, neat.” She ordered.
Jughead raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t peg you as a whisky girl.”
“Well, there’s ‘stopping at the liquor store on your way home’ needing a drink and there’s ‘stopping by a shady bar on your way home’ needing a drink. The first calls for red wine, and you just witnessed what the second calls for.” She shrugged, leaning closer towards Jughead.
Jughead laughed. “Fair enough. How’s Seattle?”
Betty nodded, thanking the bartender as he placed her drink in front of her. She picked it up and took a sip. “It was good,” Betty smiled. “I moved back to Riverdale yesterday.”
“You did?” Jughead asked in surprise. “I moved back last month from New York.”
“I thought you loved New York,” Betty murmured.
She may have asked Archie about him a few dozen times over the years.
Jughead scratched the back of his head, smiling softly. “I did. I moved back to help my dad - he’s not doing very well right now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Juggie.” Betty placed a hand over his. She took another sip of her whisky. “You know, I tried Googling you a couple times to try and find your photography. I couldn’t find anything.”
Jughead smiled. “You probably weren’t Googling the right name. I use Pen Jones for my photography.”
“Pen?” Betty laughed.
“Would you take anybody seriously with the name Jughead?”
Betty set her glass down. “Okay, true. But Pen?”
“Well, I didn’t want to see people struggling with Forsythe for the rest of my life, either, and F.P. is sort of taken,” Jughead smiled playfully. “So I chopped Pendleton to pieces and took Pen.” He took a sip of his own drink. “What about you? How’s writing?”
Betty nodded, spinning her glass on the counter. “It’s good. I was writing for a magazine in Seattle. I’m going to be taking over my parents Newspaper. How’s the novel coming?”
Jughead nodded. “It’s still coming. I finished writing - trying to tie up the loose ends, edit, etcetera. Much harder when you’re not in a booth at Pop’s.” He smiled.
Betty finished her whisky, turning to face Jughead completely.
“You want to get out of here?” Jughead asked suddenly, his eyes staring at her ankles, sliding up the rest of her body.
Authors Note: I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while now and finally decided to try and write it all down. I have a few chapters written, but I’m new to the fandom and don’t know what kind of response it will get. So I’m posting this now to test the waters and see what people think! Hope you enjoy and feedback would be lovely! :)
When Killian Jones decided to move stateside after the war, he expected some amount of trouble. He was tending bar in Manhattan, after all, while his brother was scrounging with low-lifes just to keep them safe from the rising criminal enterprises. Yes, Killian Jones had counted on a lot of things after getting settled as a civilian. He just hadn’t counted on her.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.
16 October 1945 - 10:15 pm
The night was crisp, the air scented with autumn and the wind sharp, pricking Emma’s skin as she walked down fifth avenue… again. She had been up and down the blocks between fifth and first almost ten times now, looking for a tiny alleyway that would supposedly take her to some dinky hole-in-the-wall bar called Castle Harbour. It was the first real lead that she had gotten in months so no amount of chilly wind or hard to find bars was going to stop her from following it.
2. "Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time."
3. "That's so long ago, I don't remember."
4. "That is my *least* vulnerable spot."
5. "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."
6. "[...], I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
7. "Where were you last night?"
8. "The waters? What waters? We're in the desert."
9. "I'm shocked, shocked to find that gambling is going on in here!"
10. "And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart."
11. "Will I see you tonight?"
12. "I was misinformed."
13. "I never make plans that far ahead."
14. "Here's looking at you kid."
15. "Alright, I'll make it easier for you- go ahead and shoot. You'll be doing me a favor."
16. "You give him credit for too much cleverness."
17. "You know, [...], I have many a friend in [...], but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust."
18. "Why there is no other man in my life? That's easy; there was. And he's dead."
19. "Round up the usual suspects."
20. "She did her best to convince me she was still in love with me but that was over long ago. For your sake she pretended it wasn't and I let her pretend."
21. "We read five times that you were killed, in five different places."
22. "We said no questions."
23. "Well, I counted the days. Every one of 'em. Mostly I remember the last one. The wow finish. A guy standing on a station platform in the rain with a comical look in his face because his insides have been kicked out."
24. "I found myself much more reasonable."
25. "This is the end of the chase."
26. "I don't know the finish yet."
27. "Well, I guess neither one of our stories is very funny."
28. "I didn't count the days."
29. "Who are you really, and what were you before? What did you do and what did you think, huh?"
30. "As you can see, it was true every single time."
31. "With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love."
32. "Realizing the importance of the case, my men are rounding up twice the usual number of suspects."
33. "And you might want to do it simply because you don't like [...]'s looks. As a matter of fact, I don't like them either."
34. "I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me."
35. "Yeah, it's pretty bad timing. Where were you, say, ten years ago?"
Born Today, December 25, in 1899 the Legendary Humphrey Bogart…
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” - Humphrey Bogart as Rick in Casablanca
Over 85 films including Angels with Dirty Faces, Dark Victory, The Roaring Twenties, Brother Orchid, High Sierra, Casablanca, To Have and Have Not, Dark Passage, In a Lonely Place, The Caine Mutiny, Sabrina, The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The African Queen (Best Actor Oscar), Key Largo, The Big Sleep, The Barefoot Contessa, We’re No Angels…
nac: Could you please explain me, the references, that Djinn did in Twisted? I understand only a few of them (maybe it's because I'm not American or I don't watch the right movies :P :-)). Thank you for that.
I know there was a post about this somewhere, but I can’t find it, so I made one!
It’s dropped under the read more, but let me know if you have any corrections/I missed any! -Claire
Description:Things have been a little awkward between you and Dean the last few weeks and you’re starting to feel insecure about it. Then, on a night off and with Sam out of the bunker, Dean sits down with a DVD of Casablanca … Read:Part II and Part III
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 1,894
It was a rare night off. Sam had made himself scarce about two hours before, using the excuse that there was some foreign film he wanted to see in Wichita. Normally, had I believed he was telling the truth, I’d have joined him. I always looked forward to movie days with Sam.
But the truth was, the last few weeks had seen a growing tension between Dean and I, and I suspected that was why Sam took off so quickly. He was giving us an opportunity to work it out.
In the beginning, Dean and I had been easy friends … bonding over classic rock and American muscle with V8 engines. Then, (if I remember correctly it was after a particularly bad hunt that put two of the three of us in the hospital), things between Dean and I had begun to subtly shift.
Internally, I assumed it was my awkwardness that was making him awkward. Both of us, awkward. Because I knew what was causing it for me. As time went by, I found myself making excuses to be closer to him. I wanted to sit near him, stand next to him … and when I was, I wanted to touch him. Could he read that? If he could, he didn’t reciprocate but he didn’t move away either. Was it obvious I had a … “crush” was the wrong word but it was the first one that came to mind.
I was lost in thought when Dean sat down on the couch beside me, holding a DVD. When I looked up from the book I had been pretending to read, he flipped the thin case upwards between his fingers. “We’ve been hitting it pretty hard lately,” he said. “I figured you’d want to stay in.”
I smirked slightly. “Ya know, you don’t have to stay in with me.”
“And yet,” he grinned and held out his arms. “Here I am.” The humor faded from his face just enough to let me know he was serious. “You’re not exactly difficult to hang out with, kid.”
I tipped my eyes up at the nickname. I suspected it was because I was closer to Sam’s age than his. However, I played along and put my finger to my chin, turning my eyes up in contemplation. “Truth,” I nodded. He smirked and I resituated myself on the couch. “Okay, what are we watching?”
He stood up and popped the DVD case open, pointing it at me after taking it out. “A classic.” I came to attention while watching him put in the movie. Well. I was watching the curve of his back and the muscle of his arm where it twitched and disappeared under the fabric of his t-shirt. He spoke over his shoulder, fiddling with the buttons. “Ever seen Casablanca?”
I faultered, my brows half raised. Wasn’t there some cliche about watching ‘Casablanca’ with a date? I was fairly certain I’d heard that story, or some version of it. You know, the guy invites the girl over to watch Casablanca … because Casablanca was breaking out the big guns. Or it was supposed to be. I’d never seen it. But … it didn’t seem like the kind of movie Dean would pick. Let alone to watch with me.
“Uh,” I shook my head quickly. “Nope. Never have.”
“Augh!” Dean half growled his disapproval through the word. “You’re gonna love it. 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine’ …” I recognized that last line. Just because I hadn’t seen it didn’t mean I hadn’t heard about it. He was right. It was a classic. And I couldn’t help but be amused by his Bogart impression.
“You’d look good in a fedora,” I said.
“Woman,” he chuffed. “I do look good in a fedora. But seriously, Bogey? He’s the freakin man in this thing. Smooth as all hell.”
Dean had settled beside me, with just enough space between us to be respectful, his arm resting on the back of the couch behind me. All through the movie, it kept occuring to me how much Humphrey Bogart’s character had shades of Dean in him. Or Dean had shades of Rick Blaine. Either way, I could see now why he’d chosen it and why he liked it … despite the romance. Here was this guy with kind of a sketchy past, once presumably a bit of a hero, but now a cynical dude who was a bit of a slut. And, Dean was right, he was charming. I never would have looked at a picture of Humphrey Bogart and thought he was handsome … but he had something. All devil-may-care.
“He reminds me of you,” I told him finally.
“Yeah?” He rubbed at his hair and looked a bit guilty, tilting his head down at me. “I may have stolen a few things.” I widened my eyes at him and he just shrugged. “What? That guy is cool. I like the way he carries himself, ya know?”
Then Bogart’s long lost love wandered into his bar and requested the wrong song and the romance part of the movie began. Occasionally, Dean would tell me bits of information about the history surrounding the film that he’d learned from Sam. Like how, when it was written, we didn’t know if we were going to win the war. And that Bogart had to stand on blocks because Ingrid Bergman was taller than he was. At some point he got up to get us both a beer.
“It’s about a girl who had just come to Paris …” Ilsa was trying desperately to explain herself and what Rick meant to her. I was too wrapped up in her pain to realize that when Dean sat back down, he’d sat closer and it had shifted my weight so that I was practically leaning against him. “… she met a man about whom she’d heard her whole life. A very great and courageous man. He opened up for her a whole beautiful world full of knowledge and thoughs and ideals. Everything she knew or ever became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshiped him … ”
I looked up at Dean and found him looking down at me. But as soon as I noticed it, his eyes darted back to the movie as he held out my beer. I took it and turned my attention back to the movie while his arm went up and over me to rest back on the couch. Only now, the way he’d sat down, our legs were pressed together. All I had to do was lean back and I’d be leaning against him.
And then I realized that was exactly what he wanted me to do.
“Oh my god,” I chuckled and looked back at him.
He suddenly looked nervous. “What?”
I could feel my nose scrunch in amused confusion. “Are you – are you running game on me?”
“What?” He tried to look offended. “No! … What?”
He pushed to his feet and held his hands up, palms out. “Okay, yes,” he added quickly. “But hear me out, Y/N.”
I think he thought I was going to slap him. But my head was still spinning. Why was he trying to get me into bed? Or … or whatever this was. Oh c'mon, that’s exactly what this was. “So, this is your thing?” I think I was a little mad. I wasn’t like those other girls to him. If he was going to try something with me I at least deserved a little originality. “Butter her up with Casablanca first and then …”
Dean made this face like he was flinching away from old mistakes. “Kind of, but-”
“Oh my god!” I pushed to my feet and threw my pillow at him. I expected him to catch it but he just took the hit and let it drop.
“Okay,” he said. “Let me explain.
"Quickly,” I threatened.
His face fell. “Well you haven’t seen the end of the movie yet so it’s gonna be a little-”
He came to attention and nodded. “So it’s like this. Yes. This was my thing. If a girl was a little hard to get, I’d bust out Bogey and it-” he laughed, a little too proud of himself. “It worked like a charm.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to walk the other direction around the couch. Behind me, he stumbled into speech as quick as he could while he rounded the opposite side. “But see, in the end he makes her leave. He makes her get on a plane. He tells her he’s no good for her and that she needs to go with her husband to fight the good fight. He … he chooses the fight and-and duty over love.”
I slowed to a stop and turned to look at him, folding my arms across my stomach. “This had better be going somewhere.”
“It is,” he said, darting forward. “I promise. So, I’d show them this movie and it was like my way of telling them without … ya know, telling them, that I was out of there as soon as I needed to be. Cause see, Rick knows if Ilsa stays with him, they’ll just end up in a concentration camp somewhere. They’ll end up in trouble because where he’s going, she can’t follow.”
I bit my bottom lip and it all came crashing in on me. He was trying to tell me that we could be together, but not for very long. His life, and this fight, wouldn’t allow it. I swallowed hard and looked away, giving a small nod. “I get it.”
“No,” his voice was a little quieter. “I don’t think you do.”
I nodded. “I do. It’s only romantic because they can’t be together, right? You want to sleep with me but you don’t want more than that.” I looked back and cocked my head. “That about cover it?”
His eyes went sharp and he softly shook his head. “Not even remotely.” As he spoke, he moved toward me with intent. Slowly and confidently. It was almost like the look he got when he was walking into a fight he knew he was going to win. “Cause I’m not Rick Blaine anymore and there ain’t no way in hell I’m lettin you get on that plane.”
My breath caught in my throat and every muscle in my body stilled. It had to have only lasted a second. This instant of staring at each other, hearts racing, anticipation so thick in the air it slowed time down. Then, as if on cue, we darted for each other. It was intense, and it was clumsy, but somewhere in the mess of hands reaching for each other, his lips found mine.
In gasped breaths between kisses, he told me he loved me.
When we finally came up for air, Dean pulled back to look at me. One of his hands was still tangled in my hair and he licked his lips while he gathered his barings, and I watched wantingly. Then I realized he was looking at me. He was reflecting and taking me in.
“… What?” I whispered.
He smiled and curled his fingers under my chin. “You, kid,” he said. “You.”