pirasanthanlogeswaran

[dragon-stage-battle]

There needs to be more Yado fans

Please it’s very lonely being the only one

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

An Epilogue (and a Prologue) P2

P1 | P3

“Now, you listen here, young man,” Richie told Vyvyan an hour or so later. “If some stuck up, toffee nosed little bastard gives you any gip, you send them ‘round to us. We’ll sort them out, won’t we, Eddie?”

“That’s right. We’ll taste test the toffee for you – see if there’s any licqueur in it,” Eddie said.

Richie nodded. “That’s right. We’ll taste test the- What?”

They had Vyvyan sat on the sofa as the two of them – well, Richie, mostly – hustled and bustled between the kitchen and drawing room, dispensing whatever pearls of wisdom popped into their heads. For two blokes who’d never been to university, Vyvyan thought they had an awful lot to say on the matter.

“I’m talking about the children of Lords and Ladies, Edward,” Richie said with an eyeroll.

Eddie frowned. “You what?”

“It’s alright, Uncle Richie,” Vyvyan interjected, unable to suppress a smirk. “I don’t think they’ll be many of that lot at Scumbag College.”

He and Eddie grinned the family grin. Richie finally ceased his hustling and bustling and sat down beside Vyvyan, his eyes miles away, his mind clearly running. He started gnawing on one of his knuckles before his head snapped up again.

“Oh! Oh!” He gesticulated madly at Eddie. “Eddie, get the thing!”

“The thing?” Vyvyan repeated.

“Yeah, what thing?” Eddie asked.

Richie pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “The thing, Eddie. The very important, just-to-show-how-much-we-love-you, supposed-to-be-for-Christmas thing!”

Recognition flickered in Eddie’s eyes. “Oh! That thing!”

He hurried out of the room. Seconds later, Vyvyan heard his boots clunking on the staircase and then the floor above. He scrunched his face up and scrutinised Richie.

“You got me a Christmas present in September?”

He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or suspicious. It wasn’t as if Richie, Eddie, or even Vyvyan, if he was being honest, were fantastic present buyers. To be fair, it was hard to be on a budget of 50p.

Richie laughed and wiped a greasy strand of hair from his forehead. “July, actually. There was a strange Glaswegian fellow at the carnival this year. Yes, couldn’t understand a word he was saying … although the fact Eddie was smashing his face in with a bottle at the time didn’t exactly help.” Vyvyan snorted at this. Richie continued, “Anyway, we found the thing in his coat pocket afterwards. It’s fortunate we can give it to you as a going away present now, really – I’m not sure the little bastard would’ve survived another four months in Eddie’s room.”

Vyvyan’s face lit up. “The thing is a living thing?”

There was a crash upstairs, and then the muffled sound of Eddie swearing. Now Vyvyan was very interested indeed.

“Oh, bollocks!” Richie mimed zipping his lips in frustration. “Me and my mouth. You didn’t hear anything!” He got up and marched to the doorway. “Eddie, for goodness sake, will you hurry up!?”

Moments later, thunder sounded on the stairs and Eddie burst back into the kitchen, panting like he’d just gone three rounds in a boxing ring. Tiny, freshly red scratch marks adorned his right cheek.

“Git!” Eddie shouted at his jacket pocket. He straightened himself up and walked back over to Vyvyan. “I’m afraid he’s not the nicest little thing on the planet, Vyvy, but you know how to handle yourself. Merry, uh, starting university very soon day?”

He rummaged around in his top pocket and produced what looked like a brown clump of something rotten. Intrigued, Vyvyan rose to his feet. On closer inspection, he noticed the brown clump was vibrating and squealing in Eddie’s fist. Whatever it was, it was furious. Vyvyan’s mouth formed a small ‘o’.

“What is it?” he asked softly – or as softly as Vyvyan Basterd was capable of, anyhow.

“It’s a guinea pig,” Eddie said.

“Am no bloody guinea pig, yeh daft egg head!” a surprisingly deep Glaswegian voice answered back. “Get your wee rodents right, why don’t yeh! I’m a hamster!”

Eddie’s jaw tensed – and then tensed a bit more when the hamster bit down on his thumb. He grimaced.

“You sure you want him? Like I said, not the nicest little thing…”

Vyvyan nodded vigorously. “A talking hamster? You bet your life I do! That’s the most completely brilliant thing I’ve ever seen!”

He held his hands out and waited eagerly as Eddie shook his own hand over them, trying to dislodge the creature’s teeth. From over in the kitchen, he noticed Richie wincing in sympathy as he cleared up the mugs, though it seemed he was content staying as far away the thing as possible. Vyvyan could imagine he’d told Eddie he was much too sensitive to handle feral beasts. But Vyvyan knew he was made of stronger stuff.

At last, the hamster landed with an “umph!” on Vyvyan’s palms. Eddie breathed out slowly and cradled his bleeding right hand. The hamster itself shuffled around a little on the new pale skin it found itself upon, grunting under its breath. Vyvyan watched, utterly enraptured, until it finally turned to just the right angle and he spotted its eyes.

They were intelligent. Unnaturally so. The two of them stared at one another for a moment, and the world halted.

“What you looking at, you little wimp?” the hamster asked him.

The world started turning again.

“I don’t know. Shall we find out?” Vyvyan asked back.

The hamster shuffled once more. “I bite, yeh know, pally.”

Vyvyan laughed. “That’s alright – so do I.”

He eyed the hamster menacingly and grinned – and was impressed when it held its ground. What was this? Was this understanding? Had Vyvyan found common ground… with a hamster?

Back in the kitchen, where Eddie was running his crimson hand under the cold tap, Vyvyan could overhear Richie conducting a not-so-well-hushed inquisition:

“How long has that thing been talking for?” he asked.

Eddie found himself a piece of old kitchen roll to dry his hand. “I don’t know, since not long after it was born, I suppose?”

“You mean it’s been talking the entire time we’ve had it, and you didn’t even tell me!”

“Well, I thought you might have noticed!”

“How many hamsters do you know that speak the Queen’s English, Edward!?”

Before things could escalate, Vyvyan cleared his throat and walked over to them. He was still grinning. No one had seen how he’d done it, but the hamster was safely secured in the front pocket of his denim jacket.

“I’m calling him Special Patrol Group – SPG for short,” Vyvyan said. “We’ve got a deal: I pierce his forehead like mine, and he’ll play ball. Isn’t that right, SPG?”

“Aye, aye,” SPG said. “But you better make me look good, laddie.”

Eddie flexed his injured hand. “Well, I can’t deny the name fits. If I’d known I could get away with driving a nail through your head, I’d have done it weeks ago, mate!”

“Tough luck, baldy,” SPG said.

And then he actually chortled. Eddie sucked in a breath as he glowered at the hamster. A vein in his forehead started pulsing. Clearly sensing some kind of surreal brawl between man and rodent was about to break out, Richie put a hand on Eddie’s arm to calm him down.

“In all seriousness, though,” Vyvyan said. He swallowed and looked both his uncles straight in their eyes before continuing, “Thank you. For all of it.”

He could hear his heart beating in his ears. How SPG wasn’t being juddered back and forth against his chest was truly beyond him.

Richie teared up. “Oh, Vyvyan…” He got out one of his rotten handkerchiefs and blew his nose. “You know the flat is always open to you, young man – day or night! Come rain or shine!”

Eddie rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

“There’s no need to thank us, skip. It’s what we’re here for,” he told Vyvyan seriously. “Besides, we’re just a couple of sad old bastards. We haven’t always got it right – we haven’t usually got it right, come to mention it.”

Richie swatted his arm.

“So? At least you tried,” Vyvyan said. “You’re better bastards than most, Uncle Eddie. And I’ll be back soon to visit. Promise.”

Eddie smiled at him. His uninjured hand jutted forwards, as if he was going to pat Vyvyan’s head but then remembered the tri-hawk – and the fact he was no longer six – and stopped himself. His arm lingered between them for a moment, then bowed back to Eddie’s side. He inclined his head awkwardly. Now it was Richie who rolled his eyes.

“Dear oh dear, do I have to instigate everything?” he asked, and shoved Eddie towards Vyvyan.

Somehow, the two of them caught one another in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall – which was lucky, since Richie’s shove had evidently come as a shock for Eddie, who stumbled into the hug, and wasn’t something Vyvyan had been expecting either. He heard SPG complaining from his sandwiched position in the middle, but he didn’t care. The little shit could suffer it.

To Vyvyan’s surprise, instinct took over, and he crushed Eddie in a death grip – like he really was six again, and Eddie was the grown-up person who could save him from whatever trouble might befall him. His throat swelled with something hard when he felt Eddie grip him back just as tightly. Somewhere to the right, Richie hummed in smug satisfaction.

“What a bunch o’ wimps,” SPG muttered from inside Vyvyan’s pocket.

~*~

Edward Hitler and Richard Richard watched from the window as their nephew drove off in his new yellow Ford Anglia. They stood in silence as the car reached the end of Mafeking Parade, turned a corner, and disappeared.

An almost foreign tranquillity had descended over the flat in the last few minutes. Richie was dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief when he noticed Eddie remove his glasses to wipe something suspiciously wet from his own eyes. This time, Richie let it pass uncommented upon.

“Our Vyvyan, off to university,” he said instead, calmer than he’d been all afternoon.

“He really is gonna become a doctor,” Eddie said. He was smiling. His face was aching, he was smiling so much. “He’s the first one in the family to leave Hammersmith, as far as I know, try to make something of himself…”

“And he’ll be alright, won’t he, Eddie?” Richie left the window and wandered back into the kitchen to unfasten his apron. Whatever fannying around he’d been doing in there before Vyvyan’s arrival didn’t seem important now. “I mean, I know he’s an adult now and this is very exciting, obviously, but you do think he’s making the right decision, don’t you? You are happy about this?”

Eddie chuckled to himself, bathing in the lonely strip of afternoon sunlight the window let into the drawing room. He was still staring out at the world.

“Richie, I’m over the bloody moon. And he can’t make any worse decisions than we have, can he?” Then Eddie sighed and turned away from the window. “Or Pauline…”

Richie crept up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle, bringing his chin to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a moment. They both watched the world outside. Hammersmith roared on beneath them: casual, ordinary, full of laughter, and full of tears. Eventually, Eddie turned his head and kissed Richie’s greasy hairline.

“I love you, Rich. I hope you know that,” he said.

Richie gave him a squeeze. “Of course I do, Eddie.” He kissed his shoulder tenderly for several seconds. “I love you too.”

Eddie nodded to himself, distracted but content. Richie’s face popped up again by the crook of Eddie’s neck. His former soulfulness had morphed into a pervy leer. He trailed his hands down to Eddie’s hips and spun him around gently, so they were facing.

“Now, young man, how about we take you to bed so I can tend to your injuries?” he suggested.

Eddie smirked at him. “My terrible, possibly life-threatening, hamster-inflicted injuries, you mean?”

“Mmm, the very same,” Richie purred.

They kissed, and Eddie pulled the curtain across the window, blocking out Hammersmith altogether. Richie raised an eyebrow and brought one of his hands upwards to trace circles over Eddie’s nipples.

“Feeling frisky, are we?” he asked.

“I just don’t feel like the stairs,” Eddie said. “Not in my current, weakened state.”

He smiled and let Richie guide him to the sofa, undo his fly, kneel in front of him… and the rest, of course, was just between the two of them. From here to eternity.

[toomiieimagiines]

Hihi! Can I request Kazuichi Souda getting his nose booped by his fem s/o hcs?

before i start this i just wanted to talk about how many asks i’ve gotten! wowzers ty guys so much!!! anyways i picked this one first cuz i love nose booping^^’ sorry for it being short i’ve been rly busy

kazuichi getting his nose booped

he wasn’t rly sure what hit him tbh

here he was minding his own business and

“boop!”

“WHAAA?”

annnd he fell over…

“w-wha was that for”

kaz…

he can and will make it a game after

“hehehe>:) i got ya nose s/o”

you have to remind him you’re not a one year old and, that you know you still have your nose…

“gahhh you’re no fun”

please play along it’ll make him happy

small boops can and WILL turn into kisses so get ready.

you have started a war and he intends to finish it

well he loves you and that’s really all that matters^^

[yiling]

Your scenario of Wei Wuxian taking pains to clean up (don’t forget shaving, because adult cis male biology) and dressing to the nines before embarking upon his Roaring Rampage of Revenge brings to mind Shoshana’s battle prep in Inglourious Basterds. (And I’d be delighted if you were to write it!)

I’ve started writing it and I’m having a really good time!! Thanks so much for your kind message. in return, here’s the first ~500 words of the fic. It...doesn’t actually have any of the cleaning up or the dressing to the nines, but I wanted to see him in the burial mounds for a little while first. It’s coming, trust me:

----

The night Wei Wuxian walks out of hell is a night like any other.

He rouses around sunset, like he usually does these days. Sleeping in the daytime was one of the first things he learned – it’s not safe to rest at night in the Burial Mounds. Night is the time of the dead, and he’s spent his time here learning how to mostly avoid joining them. Staying conscious in the dark is a start.

An equally vital step is staying off the ground. The branch of the tall, dead snag he sleeps in is wearing smooth with the weight of his body. He runs his fingertips over the bark absently, his other hand checking himself over like he does every evening. Four limbs, ten fingers, no core. Red ribbon, tying his greasy hair back off his face. Chenqing, thrust through his sash like his missing sword. He closes his eyes and breathes in, slow.

The spirits have already registered that he’s awake. Resentful energy nips at his heels, playful-ravenous. Voices swirl through the air, pleading, judgmental, insistent. Some chatter, or moan, some simply scream. Others have enough of themselves left to use words.

Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian, do you want to stay?

Stay.

Do you want revenge?

Get revenge for us, Wei Wuxian.

“Ah, you always contradict each other,” Wei Wuxian says. He’s retying his ribbon. “To get revenge I’ll have to leave one day, you know.”

You are ours.

Resentful energy clamps down on him like a hand around his throat, just enough to darken his vision and make his meridians ache. He swallows, throat clutching, and tries to remember that he can breathe fine, that despite the sensation he’s not drowning. With careful, practiced movements, he raises Chenqing to his mouth.

With a few sharp trills, the tension eases. Smoke bleeds away from Wei Wuxian, joining back into the featureless darkness around him. Wei Wuxian sighs and slides Chenqing back into his sash. His free hand rests over his lower dantian, the hollow pain there.

“I want revenge,” he says softly.

He hasn’t been dawdling on leaving. It’s taken a long time for him to learn how to persuade resentful energy not to harm him worse, how to coax it to heal his injuries when he doesn’t have a core to do it himself. How to direct it to destroy only what he wants it to.

Now, he thinks, he might finally be ready. To go. To bring down the revenge he’s dreamed of on the people who destroyed his family. That’s what’s sustained him, these long, dark days. That’s all he’s let himself think of.

Resentment is so thick around him it’s almost a caress.

Wei Ying.

He shivers, eyes falling closed again. It can be so cold in the Burial Mounds.

“Okay,” he says, blinking at the dark. “Okay, tonight’s the night, then.”

[sjbuchananbarnes]

Girls Night

Steve x reader 

W.c: 1640+

“Fuck guys!” Wanda yelled at the top of her lungs as she took another swing at the very expensive bottle of tequila .

“Fuck heartbreaks!” A very drunk redhead creid.

“Fuck penises!” You followed your best friends.

Three of you then turned to Pepper waiting for her to yell something but what could she yell at since she was in a happy marriage with Tony.

“Fuck…” But she couldn’t think of any “...boyfriends..?”

And the three of you cheered at her response followed by the chanting of what she had said. The four of you continued to cheer at what the other had said while singing at the top of your lungs, singing was used very loosely, and dancing around.

“You coulda had a bad bitch non-committal, help you with your career just a little!” The four of danced and sang at the top of your lungs and continued to sing about how men aint shit.  

“What’s going on with the girls?” Sam asked as he entered the training room.

“I think Nat had a bad date so there supporting her.” Tony answered from the boxing ring.

“Isn’t Pepper married?”

“And Wanda with Vision.”

“And Y/n is single.”

“I think they’re all single tonight, by what there saying.” Clint shrugged,”You know those girls will always anything for eachother.”

“But do they have to be so damn loud.” Bucky grumbled “She went out on that date yesterday night.”

“They started with wine last night.” Steve stated which only caused the rest of the team to look at him wired. “You guys didn’t see the wine bottles in the garbage can?” He tried to play it off, he can’t let out his secret.

“Then it went to brunch this morning, some light shopping which combined I think they spent around fifty thousand dollars.” Clint shrugged like it was nothing.

Which caused Bucky and Steve to choke on there on saliva.

“What?” They both yelled at the same time, still not getting use to spending too much money in just one day, considering that fifty hundred dollars back in the ‘40’s it was close to a little over half a  million dollars in today's currency.

“I think you guys forget that Y/n is loaded as well, why do you think she has the best wing.” Tony leaned against one of the ring post.

“But that’s so much money.” Bucky gasped.

“They have expensive taste, especially Y/n, I wouldn’t be surprised if more then half that tab is her’s. The guy that ends up with her is one lucky basterd.” Tony laughed and Steve snorted.

“But why does she live here?” The long hair blue eyed man asked.

“She doesn’t want to live alone, she spent most of her life alone she doesn’t want that anymore.” Clint explained, which to Bucky nodded understanding were you were coming from.

-

“Guys shut up!” You giggled, trying to get them to shut up but you were just as loud at them.

“Ooh Y/n likes Steve!” The now three extremely drunk friends shrieked, teasing you.

“What no I don’t!” Your voice got extremely higher than what you anticipated.  

“You like the stars spangled man, the man with the plan.” Pepper got up on the bed and did a hero pose, with her fist on her hips and her chest puffed out.

“So what you like Tony!” You yelled not realizing what you were saying.

“Ooh Pepper like Tony!” Now the three of you teased her.

“What no I don’t.” The strawberry blonde giggled,playing with her hair.“Wait, I Am married to him.” She threw her head back crackling like it was the funniest thing she ever heard.

“I want to be married.” Your eyes filled with tears.

“You will marry Y/n, marry Captain america.” Wanda giggled at her funny ‘joke’.

“It’s okay Y/n.” Nat pulled you in between her legs and into her arms. “We will all find happiness one day.” She kissed you cheek.  

“I love you Nat!” You cried harder as you threw your hands over her shoulders pulling her in. “And that guy is so stupid for not wanting a badass like you.”

“I love you too.” She cried into your shoulder.

“And I love you Pepper.” Wanda weeped as she brought brought her into her arms.

“I love you too Wanda.” Pepper sobbed into her shoulder.

And what seemed like a hour the four of you were done crying and now fast asleep on your humongous bed in which the four of you fit easily.

“I dont think I’m ever going to drink again.” Pepper said from the bathroom as she finish washing her teeth after throwing up.

“Pepper shut up.” Nat groaned as she shoved her head deeper into the pillow.

“Pepper move!” Wanda shoved her out of the way and soon her head was in the toilet.

Nat sighed knowing that she wasn't going to be able to sleep once more. “Where the hell is my bra?” She scratched her head.

“When did you take of your bra?” You questioned her after stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body, chuckling at Wanda as she laid on the bathroom floor.

“I don’t know.” She dragged herself out of the bed and into your shower.

“I’m going to go shower, I’ll see you guys down in twenty.” Pepper yelled as shut the door behind her.

After Wanda and Nat showered and borrowed some of your clothe which was just pair of legging and some band t’s, after Nat still hadn’t found her bra she just decided to borrow a sports bra instead ,and you guys were good to go for breakfast, at one in the afternoon. Were the boys waited for your arrival.

“Afternoon ladies.” Steve eyed the four of you as you walked into the kitchen, his eyes stayed on you the longest.

“Hi Stevie.” Without thinking you made your way into his arms and kissed his lips. “I missed you last night.” You leaned into his chest.

“Uh guys?” Tony’s voice broke you out of trace,causing your body to stiffen not even realizing Steve body was stiff not saying anything.

“Oh no.” You whispered and stepped away from Steve.

“Oh yes!” Wanda yelled.

“What the hell is this?” Sam yelled in excitement.

“What the hell are you!” Steve yelled back, causing Tony to wheeze and press his face into Peppers back, who was sitting on his lap.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t know.” Steve mumbled and played with his hands.

“Since when was this a thing?” Nat smiled at the two of you.

“Like three months.” You mumbled as you itched closer to him, god you felt like you were a pair of teenagers begin caught by your parents.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us?” Wanda whined, as she fixed her self a plate of pancakes eggs and some greasy bacon and a big cup of coffee from that amazing machine that you bought for the team. “God I love these chefs.” She digged into her plate.

“ We just thought it would be to soon, and we thought it would be best in case we broke up. We didn’t want to make it awkward.” You sighed. “Wait why aren’t you shocked Bucky?”  

 “Steve told me.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

“You told him, we had a agreement!” You gasped and hit Steve on the shoulder, which only caused you gasp in pain and you quickly grabbed your hand and held it tight to your chest .

Steve let out a laugh and explained “He caught me doing a walk of shame, doll.” he brought you back into his chest.

“Steve Rogers, doing the walk of shame who would of thought.” Tony joked, and got up to fix his very hungover wife a plate.

“Oh trust me I have no shame.” He pulled you into a deep kiss.

“See Y/n I guess you will marry the star spangled man after all.” Nat smirked from behind her coffee cup.

“Nat, we just started to date.” You shoved your head into his chest, but Steve already knew he was going to marry you the day he saw first saw you.  

-

“Sam, I swear I’m going to rip you a new if don’t start to punch like you mean it!” You yelled at the your tall broad friend,your back was facing Steve who was leaning against the door, smirking as you talked to one of best friends.

“I don’t think your going to be able to handle, all of this.” He motioned down to his body.

You threw your head back in glee. “Oh Sammy, stop your going to make me cry.” You clapped your hands together.

He took this as his advantage and charged your way but you were quicker than him , ducking his right and left  punch, jumping and swing yourself onto his shoulder straddling him with your thighs, his hand reached to grab a hold of your shirt to flip you over but with a swift move you swung yourself along with him onto the floor, landing on your feet with one foot on his chest.

“If I didn’t like you so much you’d be dead,Sammy.” You offered him a hand to help him on his feet and turned around to realize you had company, your face lit up with joy to see who it was. “Mr.Rogers, pleasure to finally meet you.” You made your way to him and extended your hand.

“Pleasures all mine, and please call me Steve.” He took a hold of your hand not letting go. “Pleasures all mine.” Steve mumbled.

“So ‘am going to kick your ass,like I did your friend.” You nodded over to Sam.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smirked “I’ll buy you dinner if you can actually beat me.” Steve still had a smirk on his face.

“You got a deal Cap.”  

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Five Days

Donny Donowitz x Reader (Male)

Requested by @livingshitpost :)

Absolutely no hate will be tolerated

Inbox is always open 💕

Guys let me know if you want me to tag you in these :P

Everything hurt when you woke up. Everything except for your eyes. Of course, they were heavy, but all that was better when they saw the man that made the war seem like it was far away somehow.

Donny Donowitz.

He was hovering over you, his eyebrows furrowed, his big brown eyes reflecting  the worry that drowned him for five days. "Y/n? Can you hear me? Tell me you're ok..." He was visibly shaken, something that you never really saw before.

You realized his left hand was wrapped around your right hand. His right hand was resting on the back of your head as you looked down, intently into your eyes, his jaw clenched, waiting for an answer.

"I'm ok, Don...I'm ok."

He smiled briefly, with a sigh of relief...but he was Donny Donowitz. Nobody hurt you. You were his world, his everything. They touched you, they didn't get to see another day.

And you knew it.

"I swear. I fucking swear. They won't hurt you again, babe. Not you, not anyone."

You smiled, though even that hurt. You momentarily glanced past him, and caught a glimpse of the bat leaning against the doorway. It already had a blood stain or two that would never come out, no matter how much Donny tried to clean it. It wasn't the blood itself he had a problem with, it just made the names on the bat harder to read. It upset him.

You had convinced him it gave it...character. 

He smiled and embraced it because of you.

But the bat wasn't just bloodstained. It was dripping with blood. A tiny puddle collected at the base, on the ground, and was beginning to dry out.

He'd hunted them down....

For five days, Donny was seething. For five days, he was restless. He watched over you for three, then walked out, bat in hand, without another word. He came back twelve hours later, and took his place by you once more. Hugo had to convince him to go eat, and take a shower. He had also been covered in blood splatters. He wasn't filled with rage anymore, just worry. All he could do was watch you, and hope for the best...

It scared him.

That wasn't something many people could claim to do...

It all started with a regular mission. You, Smitty, and Omar were gone for a week. That was normal. It was a long journey. Hugo and Donny protested. They didn't think it was safe to send the three youngest basterds alone. The problem wasn't that  you were all young. The problem was that you were too eager, and didn't take all the necessary precautions.

Donny..well... he was just plain worried about you.

He couldn't imagine life without you. Every day you were gone, he thought of you. When he saw the bloodstained bat, he smiled  a little, and wielded it with pride and joy, all hoping to make you proud, wherever you were. He saw the boots you left behind, and rolled his eyes: you were so forgetful, what if it was snowing out there? And the dozens of cigarette rations you left behind? You didn't like smoking, Donny did. You usually let him have some of yours, but you hid most of them from him, knowing he'd never listen about smoking being bad for him. He knew where you hid them. He never took them, though...he not only knew you were right (and would never admit it) but he knew you'd come after him.

But after Omar returned alone, dragging himself on the ground, and covered in his own blood, no one wasted time. Donny was ahead of everyone else.

You snapped out of it, and started to shift, and tried to get up, even if everything hurt all over again, "Smitty...Where is he? Where's Omar!? Are they-"

"Sh, it's ok babe, they're ok." Donny rested his thumb at the side of your cheek carefully. You had a black eye, and he was careful not to touch it, and risk hurting you.

You sighed, and leaned back into the bed as Donny smiled softly, content that you were calm now. He missed you...

He couldn't bear to be without you.

"I never should've let you go alone."

"I wasn't alone."

"I wasn't there..." Donny looked away.

You reached up, though your arm felt like it would drop off, you managed to cup Donny's chin, and gently turn his face back toward you. "But you're here..."

It was then that you realized your voice was low and raspy... you needed water.

Donny was way ahead of you. He reached out for a glass that was by the bed, already with water in it, and held it up to your lips.

You could only manage to take about half of the water before you were too tired out. Donny set it down for you, then looked back at you, "You know...you need a haircut, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes, "It hasn't been that long."

There was a brief flash in his eyes that indicated it had. You were gone on your mission for a week. You had your hair cut two weeks before that.

"How long was I out?"

"Five days..." Donny murmured as he looked down at his hands, fumbling with his fingers. Five days without you....well... having you so near, yet so far was impossible. He missed the way you rolled your eyes whenever he screamed 'TEDDY FUCKIN WILLIAMS.'

 He missed the way you made faces at him in the mirror when you shaved. He missed the way you could somehow down more beer than him, and any other basterd, and still not feel a thing. He just missed hearing your voice...

"So...it's been almost three weeks!" You smiled a little, hoping you'd cheer him up.

"Y/n..."

"Donny..." You mimicked him, hoping to calm him down.

"I was..." He stopped, and took a breath. Some things were hard for him to admit out loud. "I was scared..."

"I'm sorry, Don..."

He looked back at you, his eyes soft as they looked into yours, "Don't be. Don't ever say that. I should've gone with you. Now look at you. I'm sorry."

"I'm ok, babe...I'm ok."

Donny smiled a little, "I know, I mean...look at that stubble. Aldo sees that fuckin' disgrace, he'll come after me."

He ran his hand in your floppy, messy, slightly greasy hair. He leaned down, and kissed you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe... You knew he was serious.

No one would ever hurt you again. Not while Donny was around...and something in the way he held you, and looked at you told you that would never change.

[cherryplasmids]

☆ operation kino, the suicide mission ☆

pairing: donny donowitz  fandom: inglourious basterds—in movie sequence anon request: omg inglorious basterds is literally so incredible right??? it would be cool if u could write some stuff about donny donowitz?? the bear jew?? i love you! notes: i apologize for the anon who had to wait months for this to come out.  —check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So you’re really going?”

Ever since Aldo had told you of the last part of Operation Kino, you were absolutely livid. It's a stupid, ill-advised, and desperate attempt to demolish the Third Reich before they can take over the world. Regardless of the heroism behind it, the plan is simply thoughtless. Especially after the failed rendezvous Von Hammersmark already devised where beloved Basterds died, you didn't see how Aldo could allow this 'strategy' to go into motion. This would be another suicide at it’s most doltish development.

Once you found out, you refused to speak to any of the Basterds. You didn’t care for Von Hammersmark, she can die and it would make no difference. But you cared for Aldo, Omar, and Donny in their own ways. Aldo became a weird adoptive uncle to you, always making sure you were healthy and scalping Nazis. Omar unwillingly became your best friend after you beat him in rummy more than 5 times in a row. And Donny became the unexpected lover to comfort you in times of grief and horror. How could you not be worried about them? How could you not be devastated that Donny is willing to do something this drastic without your input?

It didn't matter. After all, Operation Kino would be in action within 2 days. You only have 2 days to spend time with the remaining Basterds. 2 days to be with Donny before the inevitable happens.

Donny stills, his body becoming rigid at the sound of your voice. Even though you're questioning him, he knows it's rhetorical. It doesn't matter, though. He hasn't heard your voice in over a week and he plans on hanging on to every word, even if it hurts him.

You speak again when he stays silent. “Operation Kino is definitely happening, I know that for sure. But you’ve decided that it’s necessary to go?”

Your words are soft but biting. And it doesn’t sit well with Donny. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He looks at you through the vanity mirror, his back still turned to you. The air is filled with tension, so thick and uncomfortable that he begins to shake his right leg in anxiousness. Although he's waiting for you to continue, the silence is killing him. Donny isn't one for patience.

“That it? That’s all you got to say?”

You hum and nod. “What else is there to say?”

Donny swiftly spins his body, his alarmingly impassioned gaze piercing straight through you. “ Your suppos’ to tell me how fucking stupid this entire thing is! How it’s a suicide mission and that Landa will be smart enough to catch us because I don’t know a fuck ton of Italian. Von Hammersmark is a dumb broad that set us Stiglitz and Wicki to die!

“Your suppos’ to say you love me and that if I go, your heart will break, leaving you a mess. How could I be so selfish?” Donny fumed. His hands flew to his hair in which he began pulling as if a mad poltergeist suddenly possessed him. “But you aren’t saying none of that. Naw, you’re just ignorin’ me for no damn reason.” His right-hand slams against the vanity tabletop, causing you to jump.

His chest heaves up and down, blistering anger rolling off of him in waves. However, you aren’t fazed. This isn’t new behavior. Instead, you just stare up at him, unwavering taut eye contact ensuing.

“And if I said that? Hm?” You inquire, standing up from your bed to walk towards him. Each step causes a bubble of turbulent emotions. “You would not do a damn thing about it. You might love me, but Aldo’s got you wrapped around his finger.” You poke his chest hard enough for him to take a slight step back. “You’re just dying to die for what reason? I have no fucking clue.”

“I ain’t dying for shits and giggles. I’m dying for my country, to end the war, for you.”

An involuntary, sarcastic laugh escapes your lips. You poke him again and see the flash of anger again. You want to agitate him, to provoke him. So you do it again and he gives you a warning look. “And ‘your country’ won’t remember this one fucking bit. You wanna know why?” He opens his mouth to refuse but you continue speaking and poke him again. He takes another step back, his hands curling into white fists. “None of Operation Kino will be written in the history books. You or Aldo or Stiglitz will not be commemorated for your efforts in the war. Which means this glorious plan of yours to end the Third Reich once and for all will not be documented. No Purple Hearts, no recognition, and no heroic celebrations in your names.

“And you sure as hell won’t be dying for me. I am the last thing to ever conjure up in your thick skull because if you were really doing this for me, you would have backed out of this horrid plan since it’s inception.”

“Newsflash, doll,” Donny begins, his Bostonian accent increasing. “I was apart of this plan way before I met you and I promised Aldo I would do this no matter what. Which means I am doing this. Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Then why in the flying fuck would you want me to beg and plea when you were going to ignore me!?” Instead of poking him, your hand flies to slap him across the face. He’s much quicker than you this time and grabs your hand, pulling you into him. He holds you tightly, despite your struggle to get away from him.

“Let me go you greasy roach!” His hold doesn’t relent and he pulls you closer to him to the point where your chest is pressed onto his core.

Within a few moments of struggling, your ardent movements die down until you are left a shaking mess. At this point, your legs are jelly and the only thing keeping you from falling are Donny's burly arms. You let out a pathetic wail and allow the tears you’ve held in to seep out. It blankets Donny’s green shirt, but he makes no moves to stop you. He simply allows you to break down. And just like always, he’s there to comfort you.

“You think this ain’t hard for me, baby?” He questions softly, his crestfallen voice dropping in suddenly. “I tell Aldo every damn day how hard it’ll be and there are days I want to just leave. Go back to Boston with my ma and take you with me. But I can’t because I want you to be proud of me.”

“Oh Donny,” You cry out, clinging onto him like life support. “I’ve been proud of you since the day we met.”

Donny doesn’t speak because he knows that but he’ll still go through with the bombing. So he just lets you cry and caresses your hair in slow strokes. He leans down and kisses your forehead, letting his lips stay on your face for a long time before removing himself.

“You are as stubborn as a bull, Donny Donowitz.”

“I know, doll.” A soft chuckle causes his chest to rumble, making you smile despite your initial anger.

“And I love you.”

He nods, pushing your chin up for you to look at him. Your gaze matches his own intensity and at that moment, Donny was utterly gobsmacked. With tears streaming down your face with a mixture of nose leakage seeping, you still managed to appear completely enthralling.

“I know.” He whispers before capturing your lips in a gentle embrace.

At least when he dies, he’ll die a blissful death with memories of you warming him throughout every second.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,287 published: july 11, 2018 edited: march 30, 2020

[themadchemist]

Sorry for the little Valter spam, I just love that greasy basterd so much

[rainystripe]

{one-shot (?)} ROLL DEEP

pairing: Jughead Jones/Betty Cooper fandom: Riverdale 6773 words Summary/excerpt: “Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry Christmas

!

--

or,

Jughead Jones + Netflix and Chill= Betty Cooper?

AO3

Okay, idk where to start LOL. This is inspired by my own dumb text posts and @sweaters-and-crowns inspired me to write this out. I wrote this shit in an entire sitting until my phone was about to die. ANYWAY, a huge, HUGE thank you to @theatreofexpression, @electromagnetic-waves and @rezfaultsmoke for helping me out with this! Honestly, cannot express my gratitude enough <3

I have the option for a possible follow up chapter just in case I go along with it. But lemme know if one of you is interested in collaborating with the second one?!

lastly, Happy Holidays to everyone reading this.

Being alone wasn’t all that bad. Jughead Jones knew that perfectly well. And it’s not that he’s entirely lonely, he has friends and family.

A very spotty family at that, but there’s always a family there for him. And as of late, his choice of family isn’t one by blood in fact, his best friend and his dad are always there for him. Archie and Fred Andrews are always on call for whenever he needs anything. It’s not that Jughead is some type of beggar, because he isn’t, but when he finds that he needs the comforting warmth of familiar faces, good greasy food, and overall good times, the Andrews men are always a good choice.

It’s December 13th in late 2015 when Archie texts Jughead the password to the Netflix account that had recently Fred opened up. The red haired teen has done nothing but gush about how ‘epic’ and ‘fucking awesome’ the application was and at first Jughead doesn’t understand the hype. He’s heard of it, yeah— who hasn’t? The ads are everywhere and so are the stupid memes. Jughead also didn’t understand why he would  need an online theater since there was a perfectly working on through the Bijou and the Twilight. The later of while held glorious tin encased reels from years past. Nothing could compare to the original format of film, but alas, Jughead was born in a different era: the Digital Age.

“Netflix and Chill”

Just hearing Archie talk about the popular term makes the blue eyed teen grimace as he stuffs a chip into his mouth. Archie has been on a quest to ‘get some girls’ and as far as Jughead knew, no one was biting. He does however, know what the entirety of the football team have been ‘getting some fine ass pussy’ (according to Chuck Clayton) as of late, and the not-subtle locker confessions are always accompanied by the Netflix and Chill combo. He doesn’t quite get what the fuss is all about nor does he care. But one thing is for sure, and that is that Jughead Jones doesn’t want to “chill” with a girl while he could be watching a movie on his own.

Unless that girl was blonde, green eyed and super into movies as he was. Elizabeth Cooper was the only girl that he'd hang out with and that was law. No one else could sit with him through a movie, not even his kid sister Jellybean, as she’d talk through the entire selection of his choice and whine about his top choice films for being ‘boring’. Archie was something else, maybe he’d reconsider the ginger if he’d stop falling asleep during Inglourious Basterds. So, Betty was the perfect candidate for watching a movie or t.v series with.

There’s a strange occurrence one day when they all sit for lunch one day, the blonde plops down and immediately dips her head down to ask them something. They’re outside in the blistering cold and Archie is seated next to her while Jughead sits across from the pair. It’s a normal lunch break  until Betty asks what the meaning to ‘chilling with Netflix...or whatever’ meant.

The redhead next to her strings loudly at the wooden guitar while Jughead swears the apple juice he’s just been drinking might’ve gone up his nose. Their reactions only cause Betty’s authoritative gaze to inquire for more information and in typical Cooper fashion, the look demands answers.

“Uh, w-why do you ask, Betts?” Jughead doesn’t mean to stutter, but he does and he doesn’t know why.

Betty blinks and a blonde brow shoots up “Because... Reggie just asked me if I wanted to ‘chill and netflix’ with him.” Her fingers raise to quote her own words, confusion evident on her face. “And then his goonies started to laugh!” She huffs and purses her lips.

Both Archie and Jughead share a knowing look, one of pity from Jughead and the other of awkwardness from his best friend. While Betty picks and tears at the plastic wrapped around her straw, she mumbles in annoyance, distaste as clear as day on her face.

“Ugh. What does that mean?” she mumbles.

Archie’s chocolate eyes urge Jughead’s own icy ones and vice versa. There’s a tiny tug and pull to see who will let Betty in on the dumb trend, and Jughead finally sighs. It always felt weird to talk about anything dirty or suggestive to wholesome Betty Cooper.

“Err— well, Betty…” when he finally starts, her ears perk up and all of her attention is on the beanie clad boy. The curious look and doe eyes make him gulp.

Why did he suddenly feel bad?

“Reggie is being a dumbo as per usual, so don’t listen to anything that leaves his Colgate mouth. But, if you must know…”

The explaining happens and by the end, Betty is fuming in disgust. Archie plants a comforting hand on her back and Jughead offers up the apple on his tray that he never eats as a condolence, one which Betty gratefully pockets for her walk back home after school.

That night, when he’s lounging in tiny space of his living room, his phone rings. Homework has been finished and his backpack was ready for the next class day. Jughead was fresh out the shower and attempting to write on his laptop when the password is texted to him. He stares at his phone for a good minute and ponders if his slow internet would even entice him to download the app on the older computer. It’s not until another text comes through a few minutes later that Archie reminds him of the web browser alternative that he finally gives in and signs into the page.

Writing was sort of boring and the trailer was actually warm for once thanks to the ancient heater that rumbled to life after kicking it in frustration that cold morning. Jughead turns off the light next to him by the couch, allowing darkness to engulf the tiny trailer. The website is simple enough and he realizes that one account already has been set to be his. He snorts and smiles and proceeds to click on the lazy looking image. He doesn’t know where to start; there is an overwhelming amount of content that’s plastered on the main page.

Mean Girls, The Walking Dead, Pocahontas even. Everything is new and flashy and none of it catches his attention and after scrolling for what felt like forever, a recommendation that he recognizes greets him: Rebel Without A Cause.

“Huh, not bad Netflix, not bad at all.” He mutters.

Jughead watches the entirety of the movie and then he’s watches another, and another. He watches a total of four classic films before his eyes close on him. The laptop eventually goes to sleep and Jughead has a strange dream where he’s the main character in a noir inspired film and Betty is a spy that’s out to get him.

—

Surprisingly enough, Netflix becomes a normal part of Jughead’s daily routine. He often finds himself watching The Twilight Zone while getting ready for school. Other times, he’s sitting on the small two person table in the corner of the kitchen while blowing on the instant ramen that he's made for dinner as Nightmare on Elm Street blares through the speakers of his laptop.

He won’t admit it to anyone because he’s not one to admit to anything, but Jughead finds himself literally chilling while watching Netflix. So maybe the concept of an online Blockbuster isn’t all that bad.

The days go on, and when Christmas break finally arrives, a selection of Christmas themed movies filter through his recommended list. Most of the films that have been selected don’t interest him—sans the original Home Alone (and that one only) so Jughead settles on binging the X-Files and going against the holiday mood that the year has bestowed on the entire planet.

“Santa, kiss my ass. Hello, aliens.”

On Christmas Eve, the trio of friends spend a few hours of the afternoon at Pop’s. Betty and Archie bring gifts and spoil Jughead. While he doesn’t have any gifts to give due to his nonexistent cash flow, he does manage to scavenge enough money from under the couch and the inside of his father's truck to pay for two milkshakes.

“Aww, you didn’t have to, Juggie!” críes Betty, but the look in her eyes say otherwise. If there was a way to describe the word ‘mouthwatering’ it would be the way her jade eyes gloss over with glee at the sight of her favorite treat being placed in front of her. Beside’s, milkshakes usually mark the end of their usual meal, so it was tradition anyway.

“It’s fine, Betty. Trust me. Just enjoy it, please.” The burning embarrassment that’s filling his belly makes him squirm at his version of a gift, but alas, his friends don’t seem to care about the quality or price tag.

“Okay.” Betty pouts back, but she cracks not a second after when her finger dips to scoop up the whipped cream topping the strawberry milkshake. The shy smile on her face makes him smile in return and before he can even register what he’s doing, the maraschino cherry from Betty’s treat is being plucked away from its creamy resting place.

“Jug!” she gasps in mild horror.

A sheepish grin breaks out on Jughead after popping the cherry into his mouth.

In the end, Archie offers his which Betty gratefully accepts and chews on while glaring at the dark haired boy sitting across from her.

Betty’s gift is a new cotton sweater in a cool grey, there’s no hoodie or zipper to it, and while it’s not his usual style, it’s very comfortable and warms him up faster than the broken heater. She’s also gifts him with the annual batch of brownies prepared by her mother, ones which he looked forward to every year. The sinful double chocolate chip fudge brownies were the epitome of heaven on earth that Alice Cooper somehow made every year. It was a treat that contradicts her usual strict style of dieting and control of food for her family, but he had no complains about the brownies, and he never will— unless she changes up the recipe to be skinny. His other gift is a 40 dollar gift card to Pops which Archie swears was the best gift ever since he will be able to reload it whenever he wanted to. A suggestion which Archie throws at him that includes the pink card being reloaded by him for his birthday and the following Christmas.

He’s grateful, he really is. Money is a problem, Jughead grew up with minimal money in his life. Being poor and broke and living off used things was the norm for him. He was still too young to find a job and while his father does provide here and there (albeit rarely being home) Jughead manages.

He always manages.

The internet that runs throughout Sunnyside is a shared connection routing through one main trailer where a guy manages to get illegal access to. It’s not the fastest or the best as every trailer uses the line, but it works fine for him when he’s nestles in bed at night. Being a night owl had its perks, no one was awake when he was, which meant that the internet was free of all the traffic that usually slows it down during the day.

Midnight arrives like any other night. There’s a distant crack in the air, fireworks most likely.

“Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry

Christmas

!

followed by a plethora of green Christmas trees and pink hearts (oddly enough) a few reindeer, presents, bows and confetti. All which she flawlessly executes with the dramatic background effect on the messaging app which lights up with animated fireworks.

“Geez, Betty. An enigma you are.” He reckons out loud before replying with his own simple greeting.

Merry Christmas, Betty. followed by a plain thumbs up.

—

Exactly two years later, 2016 Jughead Jones would have actually laughed in the face of his present self when told that he was in a romantic relationship. A romantic relationship with a girl, not a stranger, but Elizabeth Cooper.

Jughead was sure that love wasn’t for him. Love and affection had screwed him over since the day he was conceived. His father, FP Jones was a recovering alcoholic now, but he he used to be a poor father. A gang leader, drug dealer with major issues. Gladys Jones— his mother, who knows where the hell she’d fucked off to. She claims to be in Toledo with his grandparents and younger sister Jellybean, but who knows really.

Life had gotten complex during the summer of 2017. A local golden boy had been murdered and the mystery of who did it had somehow brought Betty and himself closer together, so close in fact that Jughead realized that his feelings for her were much farther from friendly.

They had their ups and downs as any couple does. At some point he was sure that they just couldn’t work out. It was as if the universe and his cursed destiny tried to pry him from anything good in his life, but he should have known Betty.

Boy, should he have, especially when dealing with Betty and her world famous stubbornness.

Her fight and reassurance kicks him in the face, planting firmly the idea that he controls his own path and destiny. So, ever since their last breakup back during Halloween, things have been well for the young couple. So well in fact that he was sure he was permanently high.

High off Betty Cooper.

A delicious high, one which he couldn’t get enough of. Her scent, her skin, eyes nose and lips, every bit of Betty was a craving that he woke up to every morning. Jughead was still somewhat shy and awkward around her, that was who he was in personality. He wasn’t some stud who walked around oozing sex appeal and constantly grabbing his girlfriends ass while out in public. Far from it.

Behind closed doors and in the comfort of certain places, both teens found solace in each other’s arms. A comfort and warm that could brave anything the outside world brought to them. No attempt at joining his father's ex-gang could break them. Alice Cooper’s demands to leave FP’s son in Southside went on deaf ears.

Jughead muttered words of love to Betty.

“I love you...I love you.”

She’d watched in surprise at his confession, one which filled her with so much joy that she found the words to mutter them back with tears looking at her jade eyes as she inched closer with a heart crushing smile on her face.

“Jughead Jones, I love you.”

Betty was a part of him then and an even more important one now.

The warm scent of coconut wafts up his nostrils. It’s Christmas again, and this year Betty is spending it with him in the dinky trailer. It’s cold inside and neither teen have bothered to separate from each other to run out and grab the portable heater that Betty had brought along.

Betty’s lips are on his, working through a wet frenzy that makes his stomach clench in need. Their kiss is sloppy to say the least. Long have the brownies been forgotten. The fresh sweets where the reason as to why she was with him in the first place, having begged Alice to let her take the car to drop them off. Even though it was midnight now, Betty had perfectly mapped out when to ask and leave the house.

“Mm—Betty, your mom—“  Jughead muttered between kisses.

“—is asleep” she replied around a mouthful full of tongue. Feverish kisses filled the air of the cramped trailer, their mouths digging deeper into one another. Betty whimpered at the feel of Jughead’s tongue curling against her own, her hands coming down to keep her steady against the edges of the couch.

“You sure?”

“Positive, now shut up and kiss me.” She smiled into his lips. The blue eyed boy eyes crinkled in response, a mischievous smile creeping tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“If you say so.” He finished before attacking her moist lips once more. Teeth came in contact and wet sounds filled the air. The short gasps of air warmed up their faces as they continued to kiss until Betty was resting her back against the worn out cushions of the couch.

This Christmas was already starting off with a literal bang and Jughead had never been so excited for any holiday in his life.

Nimble fingers slip into midnight curls, tugging Jughead closer into her mouth. The same fingers feel good against his scalp which send a delicious sensation down his spine and across his entire body. He’s positioned himself above the blonde, making sure not to crush her by hoisting his body up by one knee in between her legs while the other hangs off the couch. Betty’s legs however, are a different story. The couch was far too small and they were both too tall. One of Betty’s legs is propped up against the headrest of the couch while the other struggles to stay curled around his hanging leg. Gravity doesn’t help and her leg is constantly dragging down before she hoists it back up into place.

Betty notes the taste on his lips and tongue, it’s sweet from the brownies and strong from the coffee he’d downed earlier. The taste is delicious and she can’t get enough and makes sure to let it be known when she curls her tongue against his own, sucking on it lightly. The action causes the deep rumble of his moan to rip through the deepest reaches of his body. It strikes her as super sexy and she moans back.

Jughead latches onto her bottom lip, knipping it softly before plucking it. Her cherry lips are engorged and plump, screaming in a lovely tint that only beckons him to return. Her chest is heaving and his hand reaches out to lift the peach colored top from her body. The tiniest brush against her skin burns him and suddenly the room is no longer freezing, but scalding hot.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Betty manages to lift the top half of her body and arms to remove her sweater, leaving her in a flower patterned lace bra. The laptop screen is still bright in front of them. Home Alone is playing in the background and the hotel scene manages to accentuate the lighting around Betty.

Jughead swallows at the mere sight of Betty’s glowing honey eyes under the effect of the screen. A sheen of gloss on her lips blinds him and he wants nothing more than to kiss her again.

He’s about to lean down when she stops with him with a warm hand on his chest.

Her usually alert eyes are blown wide and lust envelops the usually sweet girl. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and Jughead feels his mouth go dry.

Betty is stunning.

The swell of her breasts calls to him and he can’t get close. The periwinkle tinted bra is tight against her skin and he wonders if he can free her from it soon. Betty, however has other plans. She shoots him a shy look and avoids eye contact and she wiggles out of her skirt.

“Betty?” He whispers. Why? He doesn’t know. It’s not like there’s someone else in the trailer.

When the fabric reaches her knees, Jughead takes it as a signal to move back and give her space to watch her as she lifts her long legs in the air to dispose of the wine colored skirt.

It’s a sight, and wonderful one at that. Long creamy legs, supple thighs and matching set of underwear greet him and blue eyes watch intently as Betty bends both knees in front of her stomach. Her pink sneakers dangle in front if him as her arms reach for her knees, hugging them close to her chest. A teasing smile causes his boxers to feel tighter. Blood pumps down south and Jughead groans. The only time that he chooses to wear boxers briefs too. The strain is stifling and he feels the urge to get naked then and there.

“Betts…” He sighs in desperation. He doesn’t know why she’s huddled up or why she’s smiling at him him like that, but damn does she looks good enough to eat.

“Jug…” she copies. Her hands move from cupping her knees to roaming down her legs all while keeping her knees close. It’s a movement that baby blue eyes never stray away from.

Jughead’s eyes widen slightly, urging her on. “Yeah?”

Suddenly she’s nervous, very nervous. There’s something that she’s been wanting for a few days now, a repeat of what they first tried a week prior. An experiment that involved Jughead’s mouth. It’s hunted her, the thought and memories combined with feelings causing arousal to pool in between her legs.

She can’t help wanting to stop their act to get a dose of his mouth on her nether region, but the need is incredibly strong and her panties only become wetter by the second.

“I want you...here.” Her legs part slightly, allowing enough space for her arm to budge through her thigh to cover her sex through her underwear. Betty gulps in anticipation, wondering if Jughead will say no and if she’s ruined the moment with her request.

Their sexual history was tame, wild missionary sex with the occasional ass in the air for Betty as Jughead pounds at her from behind. Sex was new, and they’d only been experimenting for a few weeks, so introducing something new was always nerve wracking. Betty remembers how shy he’d been when she had stuffed her hand into his jeans two nights after their loss of virginity. A day after that Jughead rubbed her into an orgasm over her panties while waiting for school to start. Even then, they’d both fumbled during the entire process. A series of apologies littered the entire thing consummation.

They were wet behind the ears, yes, but that didn’t stop two hormonal teenagers from lusting after each other. Two weeks prior, Jughead managed to gather his thoughts and went down on Betty for the first time, earning him a wet nose and chin with a thigh crushing orgasm against his head from Betty all while doing it on her childhood bed. It must have been good enough to want her to ask for seconds, because his heart has leapt at her sudden request.

“Oh.” He said lightly.

Noticing his response not being as enthusiastic as she’d imagined it be, Betty’s legs slowly drop back down, embarrassment engulfing her. Again, her heart quickens and a dull ring is the only thing that she can properly register. Quickly, she moves to sit up, green eyes avoiding his. The shame in her face is obvious and Betty feels stupid for ruining the moment.

Why couldn’t she have just let nature take its course without having to interrupt it for her own selfish needs?

“You know, never mind.” A nervous laugh escapes her and Betty is moving to sit up but Jughead stops her. The boy moves in closer to her, and her legs are nudged apart. Her heart slams against her chest and Betty is blinking up at Jughead in surprise.

“It’s okay, Betty. I’ll do it...you don’t have to ask.” He adds shyly. His eyes wander to hers, locking together that it becomes hard to look away.

It was surprising that she’s asked him to repeat the act. The first time was sloppy and not how he’d imagine it to be, but he had managed to make her come and since it was never brought up again until now, Jughead had guessed she didn’t like it.

But now, his member was growing stiffer against his boxers the longer that he thought about tasting Betty again.

“Oh, I just…” her green eyes also wander off with an equally awkward look on her face, but  her focus moves to his pajama pants where a bulge was beginning to form. The red in her cheeks is adorable and Jughead suddenly leans down to kiss her, catching her off guard. Betty gasps into the kiss, opening her mouth wider for Jughead’s tongue to invade every inch. The kiss gets heated, and Jughead body pushes down against her own, making Betty lay down once again.

As they kiss, Jughead inhales deeply, enjoying the mewls that escaped Betty when taking her leg to prop back up against the headrest. His hand trails down from her knee, down the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

The continue to kiss with Betty breaking contact to shuffle closer down towards his knee, spreading her legs even wider in the process by hooking an arm under her other leg. Kisses are placed against his jaw and down the exposed skin of his neck. It’s only when her nose nuzzles his sweater does he realize that he’s still fully clothed.

Jughead shrugs off the material in a hurry, his hair becoming a mess of curls jutting in every direction, a look which makes Betty bite at the corner of her bottom lip.

He looks delicious.

Shirtless, with wild hair and a trail of dark hair that disappears into his pajama pants. Jughead makes Betty’s clit throb in need, so much so that her hand leaves her leg to cup her center instead. The fabric is moist to the touch and Betty gasps at how sensitive she feels at the simplest of pressure.

“Juggie…”

Jughead’s stormy eyes shine black under the light of the laptop screen, the shadows cast complex shadows on Jughead’s body which cause Betty to lick at her lips when trailing her eyes down his exposed chest and hips. The black band of his boxers pokes through the blue hues of the plaid pattern of his bottoms. The dip in his hips is sharp and balances out the smooth taut skin of his abdomen while his arms fill out with a strong bulk of muscle that works for his body type: not too much but enough to make her mouth water.

“Lay back Betty.”

And she does, head coming in contact with the wood skeleton of the ancient armrest. The butterflies in her stomach suddenly burst into a flurry of excitement that make her suck in a breath of anticipation. Both of her hands come to lay on her stomach, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.

“I’m gonna go down on you, okay?” It's not until Jughead moves slightly that Betty ss able to see how deep his eyes have darkened, the pupils of his eyes gone pitch black with a single ring of blue circling the iris. The look alone cause her walls to pulse on their own and Betty nods.

“Okay.”

The movie is long forgotten and the brownies are as cold by then. Jughead finds a spot on his stomach to lay on, its cramped on the couch. It’s one of the time where he wishes he could move them to the bed, but all that walking would ruin some of the mood.

When he’s nestled in front Betty’s spread legs, her arousal become more evident. There’s a dark patch on her panties and the fabric sticks to her folds like a second skin.

“Jug…”

He glances up at Betty, who’d eventually moved up a bit to give him space. Her blonde head now rests on the armrest, one leg still up on the head rest while the other is dangled off his couch. Betty’s green eyes were dark and glazed over in need, both her hands fisted at her hips.

“Sorry, babe.” Her arousal was strong, enticing and doing things to him. Jughead’s hand move to hover above her panty before hooking a finger right over the soaked spot to push the material to the side, exposing Betty to the cool air. She shudders at the exposure and shifts slightly. It’s still somewhat embarrassing to be so exposed, but Jughead boosts a confidence in her that she was sure she didn’t have before and she loves it.

Gulping at the sight, Jughead inches closer to Betty, the elegant slit, moist and beckoning for attention.

“You know, somehow this is better than those brownies.” He muses, smirking.

Betty’s cheeks flame up at the comment and her legs move to close before he’s reaching up to push them apart.

She’s embarrassed and rightfully so, they both have yet to stare openly at each other so intimately.

“Please” She whispers. “I want this.” Betty whines and bucks her hips, rolling them in want. The blonde patch of hair above her pink folds is always a sight to behold. It’s cute and suits her and while he didn’t understand her need to trim, Jughead decides that it is very Betty like to have and quite frankly, he doesn’t care how she looks like down there.

His fingers brush over the tougher hair, tugging at it slightly before running them down her moist lips. And in one swoop, his face is burying down on to her warm core.

Nose deep, Jughead sucks in the air around him, slowing down to breath while indulging in Betty. A shudder rips through her body and she shakes beneath him with a moan so loud that it alarms even herself. Immediately, her hands reach to grab onto anything. And Betty finds her nails digging into the back of the armrest and the cushion beneath her. Her body arches, hips rolling into her boyfriends mouth while her body twists in pleasure. The shaking never stops and Betty knows she isn’t cold.

“Ah—“ she cries out. Jughead closes his eyes, his tongue rolling up and down Betty’s folds, making sure to stop on her clit to rub circles on the bundle of nerves. She’s shaking and he smirks into her skin.

Her body hasn’t been stimulated like that, with a ravenous mouth. As it stands, the young couple are novices who only have missionary (for the most part.) sex. So, having Jughead delicately grind his soft tongue against her aching clit sends her over the moon and Betty finds that her body won’t stop shaking from excitement.

The taste is something he can’t describe. It’s unlike anything he’s tasted before, but he likes it. It’s Betty and he’s causing her to release her juices. A boost of confidence washes over him and his mouth continues to work harder. Jughead’s dark head swivels against Betty, and she blushes when she catches a glimpse of his work.

Up, down, side to side, his tongue laps through pink folds. He even comes in contact with her entrance, teasing it with a few light probes which cause her to gasp and scramble to sit up on her elbows. He’s doing something right and he continues to pleasure Betty even more.

“Ooh, like that, Juggie...oh.” Betty moans, watching Jughead’s dark head go to work on her. The view is intoxicating and it’s hard to register that the act is happening to her. The sight is in fact her underwear, her patch of blonde, all which bluntly remind her that Jughead Jones is buried nose deep in her pussy.

She tosses her head back in ecstasy the moment the sucking on her engorged clit becomes too much. The pleasure is tingling and her body is on fire. Betty’s blonde tresses have long been let loose and she runs her fingers through her hair, gripping at the scalp to control the moans that she’s too embarrassed to release and Jughead takes notice.

The sucking become quicker, matching his beating heart, a rapid motion that causes Betty to gasp loudly. Her green eyes snap down to stare at him in awe, pink lips parted. Tiny moans and ‘yes, yes’ invade his body urging him on.

The sucking become sloppy, and Jughead returns to licking her wildly while Betty grinds her sex against his mouth. Her cries are starting to become louder, the filter slowly disappearing.

“That’s it, no need to hold it in.” He pauses to urge her on. He wants to hear Betty, he wants to hear and see how badly she wants him. The strain in his boxers is unbearable and at some point Jughead finds his own hips grinding into the corners of the cushion to release some friction. The gyration against his hips against the cushion only urges him on and before both know it, his mouth back on Betty. Jughead’s hunger is amplified by the use of his tongue on Betty.

“Oh fuck—“ the sob that tears through the living room makes Jughead stop his actions. The sight of Betty riding through her orgasm is indescribable. Like an flower bud finally unraveling and blossoming, Betty is a literal description of the act. Betty gasps, her breath hitching as her body shakes and her hips snap in front of him three times. Tiny grunts explode from her shaking body and the sounds make Jughead shudder.

The scene is erotic and beautiful, better than any scene in any movie.

“Wow.” Breaths Jughead after she’s landed back down. The shaking has minimized but her thighs still twitch against the sides of his arms. Betty pushes up against the corner of the couch with a finger trapped in her teeth. Her blonde locks are a mess and cover her eyes but to Jughead, it as the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

The tired smile that Betty manages blows the air right out of him.

“God, Betty. That was...stunning.” He breathes, leaning over to her and brushing the golden strands away from her face.

“Mm, you’re so good at that, Jug.” She croaks, her voice light as she struggled to catch her breath. Somehow, Betty finds the will to smirk seductively at him. Jughead groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Again, all Betty can manage to do is groan and tug him down for a kiss.

“I love you, Juggie. I love you so much.” Her declaration make his heart swell, as well as his cock. He’s sure that she’s sucking on his lower lip to taste herself, and it’s made more obvious when she laps at the bottom of his lip.

“Thank you.” She’s still shaking and her stomach continues to jerk against her will and Jughead notices when his hand brushes her navel.

And Betty can taste herself, she can also smell herself which makes her stomach coil in need. She has had a mind blowing orgasm, and she wanted more. But she was sure that she couldn’t  go through another one so soon, but she finds Jughead’s hand and leads his fingers to her sensitive folds.

“You did that.” Betty whispers hotly against his ears.

Jughead sucks in a breath and nods, his voice lowering. “I did…”

“Mm.”

The silent foreplay continues and Jughead doesn’t move from his position right above Betty. He continues to rub lazily along her even slicker folds which cause her to gasp and buck her hips. Jughead loves the result that he’s caused. When he comes in contact with her swollen clit, Betty jerks and immediately grabs him by the wrists and shoots him a shy look.

“I don’t think I can do another one just yet.” Biting her lip, Betty blinks up at him and Jughead nods, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Jughead freezes, silently cursing for kissing her there right after where he’s mouth has been.  Betty seems to notice and giggles.

“It’s okay, Jug. I’ll take a shower as soon as I get home...which I should be doing right about--“ when reaching for her phone on the coffee table, the blonde just about shoots up a foot high.

“Ohmygod.”

“Ohmygod, Jug. I gotta go! My mom's going to kill me!” Like a hurricane, Betty sprints from the couch only stopping to fix her underwear before she’s slipping the crumpled skirt back over her legs and Jughead frowns.

Really?

As confused as he is, he still manages to move out of her way. What time was it anyway? She’s been over for what? Two hours? Also, Betty had been positive that her mother would be knocked out by now.

“Betty, I’m sure your mom won’t notice—“  Betty interrupts him as soon as he starts by shoving her phone in his face. It’s 3:24 am and there are three missed calls and a text: all from ‘Momster’

“Oh shit. Betty.” Jughead’s eyes had gone wide and he moves to help her move along. He guesses that he can live with blue balls than face the wrath of Alice Cooper. After all, he can always get access to Betty when he wants to and if he asks nicely. But for now, he’s helping her by throwing the red scarf over her shoulder and wrapping it as best as he can while she retires her hair.

“She’s going to murder me. When did it become 3?” The panic is evident and he feels bad for her. If he could, he would show up to doorstep and take the verbal beating instead.

“Better yet, why is she still up?” Jughead muses. Betty stops and wonders, but shakes her head after a moment. Time was precious and Alice Cooper did not wait. Taking her bag from the single seat, she leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t...help you out.”

Both teens move to look at his crotch and Jughead coughs. Turning at an angle to avoid the attention that his erection was receiving. It's not as bad as it was earlier, all the Alice talk ruining the mood in the end.

“It’s fine. No need to worry about me, Betts.”

Betty shoots him a sad smile, she really does feel bad. She wanted more but they had no time. So instead she makes a promise. Jughead blinks when Betty steps closer, her warm breath, ghosting over his ear.

“I’ll make it up to you. Think of it as part two to your present?” His body shudders with excitement at the thought. His body also freezes at the hand that squeezes at his cock through the thin material of his pajama bottoms.

“Be—“

Betty Cooper winks and waves before she’s out the door and running towards the station wagon parked in front of the trailer. Jughead stands there for a split second before rushing to the door, watching as the head beams light up the makeshift driveway and as Betty pulls out. She manages a wave through the window and he returns it. The station wagon peels out of Sunnyside Park, driving off into the distance.

Once she’s gone, Jughead takes a quick shower and drops into the bed in a heap of sexual frustration. He’d tried to help himself out under the cool water that the trailer managed to pump out, but he didn’t get far. A hand did not compare to Betty’s hands and lips. He can’t help the lingering arousal but the night had been fun and it turned out different than what he expected. It’s a Christmas completely different to the previous ones before and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s nestled into the warm sheets, his phone lights up.

A message from Betty.

Netflix and Chill? My house 6:40 sharp. Parents are visiting Polly.

He snorts at the term, the same term which he now remembers caused Betty to make the stinkiest face he’s ever seen. It’s not something he’d like back then, but he’s suddenly very grateful for Archie talking so much about the app that it somehow brought Betty and Jughead together for Christmas.

And besides, it’s not like they’ll be watching anything. There has to be something to distract them to set the mood. Who really watches a movie when they have a significant other anymore?

Netflix and Chill? You bet.

The phone clicks as it’s turned off and Jughead grins in the darkness, excited for the next couple of hours.

—-

merry chrystler, murry curr’mas!!

[archandbillwiseguys]

Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood: Tarantino’s Sweet Side

July 26, 2019

Bill:  I’ve never been the world’s biggest Quentin Tarantino fan, but I’ve gotta say I absolutely loved Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood.

Arch: Me, too. I loved every minute of it.  

Bill: And that’s a lot of minutes to love — two hours and forty minutes.

Arch:  For me, it just flew by.

Bill: The whole film is an extended love letter to the 1960s, to the movies, and to Los Angeles.

Arch: When was the first time you were in LA?

Bill: That would be when I moved there in 1977. Even then, it still felt a lot like the LA we see in this movie.

Arch: My parents took me to California when I was five years old, and it was one of those touchstone experiences of my life. Then as an adult I went for the first time in 1972. In this film, Tarantino really captures that freedom of LA and its automobile culture. Everybody was driving on the freeways and the freeways were moving and everybody’s car was washed.

Bill: I’ve never seen so many car washes as there were in LA in the 1970s.

Arch: LA at the time was still a mix of the 1950s and the 1940s. There were greasy spoon dives and wonderful movie theaters. And you’d drive everywhere, with the wind blowing through your hair.

Bill: I remember wind in my hair. And I also remember hair.

Arch: He captures all that. He shows the hippie girls hitchhiking. He shows a kitschy visit to the Playboy mansion. The characters go to these crowded little Mexican restaurants. The art direction alone is award-worthy. It literally took me back to the first few times I ever went to California.

Bill: The whole film has a sweet quality about it, and it feels weird to attach the word sweet to Tarantino.

Arch: It’s sweet and funny and a marvelous portrait of male friendship

Bill: That really is worth noting. The film is about a fading TV star, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, and his stunt man, played by Brad Pitt. And they are just as close as two guys can be; best friends who stand up for one another and bicker and joke. You feel like they’d do anything for each other.

Arch: The connection between DiCaprio and Pitt is wonderful. I think it’s the best movie bromance since Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Bill: I absolutely agree, and it’s maybe even better, because the one and only thing that bonds these guys together is how much they like each other. I should say they absolutely love each other. It may be the most nuanced male friendship I’ve ever seen in a film, and the two stars do a fantastic job of portraying that.

Arch: So he takes this great screen relationship and an authentic recreation of 1969 LA and places them in an alternate universe where the Manson murders are about to happen. And we can’t say what happens, but Tarantino rewrites history a bit here, just like he did in Inglourious Basterds when he killed Hitler. It seems like only yesterday, but this all happened 50 years ago. If we were sitting here having this conversation in 1969, we’d be talking about something that happened in 1919.

Bill: And Tarantino would have made a movie where the Archduke Ferdinand somehow eludes assassination.

Arch: Yes! He pulls a machine gun out from under the car’s rumble seat and blasts his way out of there.

Bill: And World War I never happens!

Arch: This may be Tarantino’s best film. You’ve got this comic story about a down-on-his-luck actor and his best friend/stuntman trying to extend their careers. And then you’ve got the cultural references, and underlying it all is this menace of Manson, the counter culture, and the specter of violent death. Tarantino’s films always have that violent aspect, of course, but I think this time he finds the perfect balance.

Bill: There are several times in the movie when you think violence is about to erupt, and that he’ll finally go Full Tarantino. But he plays with us — he steps back from the brink as if he’s saying, “No, not yet. Just wait.” Tarantino is really onto something in terms of righting history. In Inglourious Basterds Hitler gets his. In Django Unchained the slave owners finally get what they deserve. And here he turns the tables in a most unexpected way. People want to see the villains of history get their comeuppance, and Tarantino is making that happen.

Arch: It’s also a love letter to the movies, which he may see as a dying art.

Bill: Tarantino’s commenting on the art of film all the way through. He shot the movie on 35 millimeter Kodak stock, and it has that glorious shimmer you can only get with film. And he’s left in occasional edit marks and work print scratches, just to remind you this is a movie, and it was shot on film, just like 1969.

Arch: One thing I love about this movie: It’s about a time when there was no Netflix, when all the most creative energy in Hollywood was still in the movies. And after a movie everyone would go out front to the lobby, or the front of the theater, and talk about what they’d just seen. Well, we saw Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood in a theater, and as the movie let out everyone stood there in the lobby, just talking about it. I think Tarantino has touched on the thing that we all feel is endangered: The love we have for movies and the love we have of talking about them afterward. He’s tapped into the thing that makes movies great.

[awesomemoriarty221b]

Reading Good Omens for the first time after the trailer inspired me and just got to the part about Greasy Johnson. Those witty basterds.

#good omens

[gettheetoapunnery]

2, 3, 4, 21

2. What’s the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched?

Uhh The Greasy Strangler probably??? The Pianist and American Sniper stuck with me in this way in a different definition of disturbing tho.

3.An actor/actress you’ve seen in more than 8 movies? Name the movies.

Mathew Broderick!!

Ferris Bueller, The Producers, The Lion King, Glory, War Games, Ladyhawke, The Cable Guy, Election. I had a major Mathew Broderick phase.

4 . A film you could watch on repeat for the rest of your life?

My desert island film is Inglourious Basterds.

21. A film with an amazing soundtrack?

The Worlds End!! It has some of the best 90’s music ever!.

[fuckyeahu-kwon-blog]