#I like how w jaime they’re at least trying not to laugh and then with tommen they’re like LMAOOOOO fucking idiot baby

[francy-sketches]

Like father like son or whatever idk. Is this anything

#.txt #it’s like the baby version aw 🫶 so cute #‘a great gale of derision went up’ omg be NICE to him #but also that’s pretty funny I’d also laugh. sorry #I like how w jaime they’re at least trying not to laugh and then with tommen they’re like LMAOOOOO fucking idiot baby

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Things were really good. We were spending time together, talking more, planning our trip home together, our 10 year anniversary passed, the sex has been great. I felt loved and desired and happy. I thought I was doing everything right.

Last week he blew up on me. Because he misread and misunderstood a text. In September we went to a cookout at his friend's house. It was fun, I got on with all of them and we had a good time. They said they wanted to do it again but never said when, so I forgot they even mentioned it. He told me on Tuesday that they decided they would have it on Saturday- the day my mom arrived to spend Thanksgiving with us. Obviously I told him I couldn't go so he would be going without me but I joked around and said he was lying bc he didn't want to see my mom and was going to see his side chick. He said "might as well" which I know wasn't malicious or serious, we joke around like that all the time. I responded saying he could have come up with a better lie, say he was going to uber and stay out until 3am with her. He blew up on me. Called me a dumb bitch and said not to talk to him bc I seriously pissed him off. I told him that I was just playing along with the joke that it wasn't serious but he didn't respond. He didn't talk to me for days. Friday on my way home from lunch I stopped by Starbucks and got him his favorite drink as a peace offering of sorts. Set it on his night stand (he works second shift so he's home during my lunch break). He didn't even touch it. It sat there for two days. That night I texted him asking if we were ever going to talk. He said he wasn't interested and I told him that I don't understand why one misunderstanding results in him getting angry, demeaning me, then not speaking to me for days. He explained how he had interpreted the messages and I explained that that wasn't what I meant at all, I was just trying to keep the joke going but it clearly came across wrong. He didn't respond. Didn't talk to me when he came home. Didn't talk to me when he left the next day around noon. But I got a call from his friend at 5:30 letting me know that my bf got too drunk and his friend would take him home. Got him water and checked up on him when I got back, he eventually came out and helped my mom set up her new phone. When we went to bed I asked him if he was still pissy. He said a little so I kissed him on the cheek, thinking we'd talk about it more when he sobered up.

But he got on COD with his friends an hour later. Started talking about how he was going to invite "her" to play. When he got off and came to bed he turned away from me or angled his screen so that w his privacy screen protector I wouldn't be able to see his screen at all. I could tell he was texting back and forth with someone. His video would pause and he would laugh or smile. It was like that until I fell asleep. It was like that this morning. It's like that now. They're playing again. Her name is Jaime. She's a new hire working in the same shop/position as him. And he's been texting her non stop for at least 2 days now, probably longer.

When he wanted me to play with him and his friends I could tell it frustrated him some when I would mess up or just bc I'm not good at first person shooter games. I played on my own to try and get better. But he stopped asking me. She's good at first person shooters. He watches all of the videos she sends him, laughs at them, has full belly laughs when she's texting him. I thought I was doing everything right this time, Charlie. I thought it was real and good this time. But he's going to cheat again. I'm never going to be enough. I'm not funny enough, I don't say the right things, I don't have the right body, I'm not right and I never will be.

But hes right for me, Charlie. I love him so much. He feels like home. He's everything I want but he doesn't want me. I dont know what I'm going to do. I don't have the will for a fight. A confrontation. I just want him to vanish from my life. It would be easier than knowing. I wish I had never reached out to him after we ended things in 2016. It should have been done then. I should have healed, found myself, moved away on my own, found someone who would love me and appreciate me the way I deserve. But I'm too stupid and stubborn for my own good. Now here I am.

Why am I not good enough, Charlie? Why can't he love me like I love him? Why did I get myself stuck here?

Thank you for always being there for me. You have always been the person I can tell everything to.

I hope I'm wrong. A fool's hope.

- jr

#dear charlie #jr

[finalcreacher]

Something Not Quite Wrong, But Not Quite Right || Ch. 3

T/W: Panic Attack, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia (it’s like one or two comments made by Betty, and they’re a little iffy)...will add more triggers if asked!!

Reminder- Jones IS Jughead, it’s a little confusing right now, but will be explained soon.

Please make sure to read the previous chapters first before this one.

Word Count: Just Under 2k

Masterlist

Betty, admittedly, had spent more time thinking about Archie Andrews that summer than any times previous. It was something to do with finishing her first year of high school, mixed in with her summer internship- she was feeling, almost, grown up. Able to take on any world challenge that she happens upon- including her big crush on Archie. Kevin even spent the evening of the Pop’s meet up hyping her up about it in her bedroom.

Kevin was always good for that. He liked chatting about cute boys, and drama and the everydays of high school life...and what they’d do if they weren’t in Riverdale, and bound by parental expectation (the last part holding mainly true for Betty). It’s all stuff she couldn’t talk with Archie about (for obvious reasons), or Jones- who had always preferred artful movies and scary stories over anything Betty and Kevin enjoyed. Jones would always input his own playful quip to conversations- which she liked. She liked that he tried to connect in his own way, and sometimes what he said made her laugh- but it wasn’t the same with Kevin.

And as bad as it was for her to say- Kevin was always more of the girl friend, than Jones ever was.

But it was that night, with Kevin helping her get ready- that she told Archie. Told him she liked him. She was bound with so many nerves she could hardly notice how off-put he seemed. Not by her, in particular- but in a general sense. Caught in a haze. It didn’t really dawn on her till after they had left Pop’s, and she was laying in bed, grinning at the thought of how he likes her. And it hits her so suddenly, Betty almost feels sick.

She doesn’t mention any of this to Kevin. Who she’d previously tell everything to. And she certainly doesn’t tell her mom, who’s still so worked up over Polly running away with her red-headed boyfriend- that she thinks her mom might have a heart attack if she found out her and Archie were anything more than friends.

And she doesn’t talk to Archie about it at first- and then, before it gets too much, she confronts him. Though, less confront (Betty was still working on that strong, confident attitude that other girls seemed to have), and more so confirmed what they’re feelings meant. With all the bubbly feelings that surged through her that night, she didn’t think that far past telling him. It was all confusing and odd and a new terrain past that. She supposes as Archie’s first...whatever they are...that they’d both be going into the unknown together. Which was still scary, but comforting to know.

She lets him know over text. It’s well read, with no spelling (or grammar) errors. She asks him if this means she’s his girlfriend. And Archie replies with an odd “of course!” followed by a smiley. Betty gets that over bubbly feeling again, and tries not to think about the smiley face too much. She tells him she wants to keep it on the down low- and Archie says he’s okay with that.

And while Betty, who said she wanted it on the DL, and knew it was safer this way- still felt strange when Archie said okay.

When they meet up the first day of school- Betty’s nervous. It’s the same nervousness that she had at Pop’s. But the way Archie smiled at her, and held her hand all the way to the school doors- it made her heart swell with joy. And maybe, the smiley face text isn’t something to fret over- it’s just the beginning of this after all. And she feels safe, and okay, and almost confident when she walks into class that day.

///

Betty meets Veronica that morning, having volunteered to show her around for a while before school starts. Except, when she meets Veronica- it’s not who she expects. The school counselor would give Betty a sheet with the kid’s name and classes- so she could be prepared for their arrival.

“Hey, you must be Jaime- I’m Betty.” She reaches out a hand to her.

Veronica tries hiding a grimace, and replies politely, “It’s Veronica, actually.”

“Oh, I’ll make a note of that,” she smiles, crossing off the name on the top of the sheet, and writing her real name in cute, cursive letters.

Betty tells her about the history of the school, and V jokes about the outdatedness of it- and it makes Betty laugh more than it should. And before they know it, other kids are filtering through the halls- including her best friend, Kevin. He tags along, excitedly clasping his books between his arms and introducing himself.

“Oh, you must be the gay best friend- sorry,” she lets out a forced, nervous laugh. “It’s nice to see I’m not alone here.”

Kevin arches a brow at her, not wanting to pry too much. But the gossip queen in him took over- “So, you’re gay, too?”

She laughs, “Something like that.”

The three of them stop by a cluster of lockers, and the hallways were crowding with students. Stuffing their lockers with books and sweatshirts and other miscellaneous objects- that definitely weren’t all school related, as they should be- before being shut forcefully shut. It was a loud and chaotic event, and yet Archie- who’s putting away his books almost noiselessly, and appears in his own world- who receives the full attention from the group.

“Oh, he’s really cute,” Veronica smirks, and eyes Archie, who’s putting books into his locker. “He’s not taken, is he?”

“He’s not but, Betty’s got eyes on him-” Kevin starts.

Betty cuts him off in a blushy, awkward way. “We’re actually dating.”

He looks at her with wide eyes, “Woah, when did that happen?”

She smiles, “I’ll tell you later, Kev.” She turns back to Veronica, who’s looking guiltily down at her hands.

“I’m sorry, really,” Veronica rushes out. “I never would have said anything- I wouldn’t if- I’m trying to be better than I was at my last school.” She admits.

Betty wasn’t expecting that, but smiles at her response. “It’s okay,” she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, giggling. “It’s still new, even Kevin didn’t know. Sorry about that, Kev.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, “Okay, Betty. But next time, you’ll have to tell me all the details!”

With that, Kevin scampers off to class, leaving Betty alone with Veronica again. “Sorry, again.”

“It’s fine, Veronica,” she smiles back at her- and Veronica seems to ease just at that. And really, it was fine. Betty had always noticed in chick flicks, how the girls would get insanely jealous when other girls made eyes at their boyfriends’. And Betty, truthfully, should have felt more jealous than she did. She wasn’t sure she’d tell Kevin about that though. “Let’s just get to class, right? You can meet him at lunch.”

The girls walk to class together, and afterwards head to the gym- where an all school assembly was being held.

///

Archie should have known the moment he walked into the gymnasium- with his sweaty, shaky, palms and knotted stomach. How the room buzzed with noise from people he’d known since he was just a kid, and how it should have felt comforting and familiar and it just made him nauseous. All of this should have been warning enough for him, but he still filed in with the rest of his classmates, and sat in the bleachers. What was worse- was he wasn’t by any one of his friends. All forced to sit near kids you’d come from class with. They were all people Archie knew but he didn’t know like Betty or Kevin. They didn’t feel safe.

There’s a small section with a podium and chairs. The principal and vice principal and a few other staff members are seated- and one of his classmates who he recognized (because of course he recognized her- who wouldn’t?) as Cheryl Blossom. As pretty, respectable, rich Cheryl Blossom. With a fiery attitude like her red hair. She’s bold and bright and a little viscous. And she’s always intimidated Archie, if he’s honest.

Archie wasn’t sure what the assembly was for, or why Cheryl was standing up there with the faculty. It wasn’t that people hadn’t told Archie on purpose- he could handle big news, whether people would like to think it or not. But rather it wasn’t good news- and no one was jumping at the opportunity to let him in on it. And Betty would have, really, if it hadn’t involved her sister. But telling someone that your sister and her boyfriend ran away over the summer? It wouldn’t be on the top of your list.

It was scary and hard for Betty to think about- and she was sure, even with all the working Archie had done, that he’d have at least heard about it. In any other circumstances he would have. But Archie had spent a vast majority of the summer stuck in his head. Cloudy and unsure.

To say that when the principal stood up to the podium, and gave way for the Blossom to speak- he was surprised was an understatement. He tries to listen to her closely, but loses track early on. He supposes he’ll just ask Betty or Kevin afterwards for clarification. He finds his eyes wandering around the crowds, nearly forgetting about the Not Good feeling he’d walked into the room with.

And there it was again.

It’s when he locks eyes with her. Long hair pulled in a professional ponytail.

His chest tightens and he can’t breathe. He tries to gulp down air but he has to be Good Archie. Good, Respectful, Obedient Archie. He can’t be disruptful, so he tries to do it quietly. They’re shallow breaths. He tries looking away, but the same uneasy- unsafe- feeling stays with him. He shakily gets up, and sneaks from the group of students. He’s not sure if anyone sees him- his head too cloudy. The one thing he’s sure of, is he can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he stumbles out of the gymnasium. He turns the corner, and hits his body all too hard against the wall- falling to the ground, knees curled by his chest.

He gasps for air, and it’s sharp when it hits his lungs. Even with the oxygen, he still feels as if he’s suffocating. He’s breathing feels labored, gasp and gasp and gasp- and then he hears a garbled voice, and he can just barely sense someone crouching down beside him.

“Hey, Arch- Archie.” It’s calm and firm. “Can you hear me, buddy?”

Archie instinctively freezes- and part of him thinks he should leave. He’s not sure he could, even if he wanted to though.

“It’s just me, Archie.” The voice sighs, and combs a hand through their hair- a beanie held in the other hand. They fix the hat back on. “It’s just Jones.”

“Can I touch you?” Archie doesn’t respond, but he’s not as shaky as before. Jones reaches a hand to his shoulder, and Archie freaks out.

“Woah, woah,” Jones takes his hand back. “Easy there, Arch. Do you know where you are?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re at school. Riverdale High- you know, the Bulldogs?” He tries joking.

He doesn’t laugh, and it’s that miserable ache that fills him up instead.

“Arch, c’mon, man.” It’s a desperate attempt- he can hear it in Jones' voice. How they try to stay strong and calm, yet it wavers as they comfort him. He hates to make his friends feel like this- not entirely sure what ‘this’ even was.

Archie falls into his arms, sniffling and crying, and Jones holds him tight- as if they hadn’t had a falling out that summer and they were still best friends.

#betty cooper x archie andrews #betty x archie #barchie #betty cooper #archie andrews #veronica lodge #jughead jones #trans jughead jones #trans veronica lodge #tw anxiety #anxiety tw #panic attack tw #tw panic attack #riverdale

[phan-of-the-pen]

I Dare You To Stay: Chapter 9

YALL IM SORRY FOR THIS ANGST BUT LIKE THEY’RE A SHIT TON OF FLUFF IN THE BEGINNING DOES THAT BALANCE THINGS OUT???

Tags for chapter: fluff, mentions of depression, mentions of internalized aphobia

Words for chapter: 4.7k

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

<– Previous chapter Next chapter -->

~~~~~~~~~~

Dan was curled up on one of the booth seats, his feet tucked underneath of him, body leaned towards the huge, warm-to-the-touch window separating him from outside. It wasn't because he was cold—it was never cold in the store—but because the sunlight spilling in just felt too good on his skin.

He was on his lunch break and for once had decided to abstain from holing himself up in the break room. And okay, maybe it had something to do with Jaime letting him pick the music that played from the shop's speakers. But really, he was enjoying it much more than he had thought, even to the point of considering making it a habit. But it was still a consideration, mind you.

Dan scrolled through twitter, retweeting or liking some of the posts that caught his eye. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew that he had plenty of it; his break had just started.

"Wow, Dan, you look just like a cat basking  in the sun."

Dan jumped in surprise and snapped up his head from where it was staring down at his phone in his lap. Phil was sliding into the booth seat across from Dan, a smile on his face. He looked relaxed in a soft looking jumper and his glasses, hair done up in a quiff.

"Oh, hi," Dan said, lamely. He mentally berated himself, but tried to not let his awkwardness take center stage by ignoring it, praying Phil did the same. "It's been a while, Lester."

Phil snorted and took a sip of his coffee.

"A while? Dan it's been ages."

Dan laughed, and just like that, the air between them cleared and it was like they had restarted right where they had left off.

"Last time I saw you it was Wednesday, Dan. You're not allowed to be sick anymore, by the way. Thursday I had absolutely no one to talk to while I had my coffee, and I didn't even bother coming in Friday because I figured you wouldn't be here since you were so sick the day before. And then you're off on Saturday so I couldn't stop in then." Phil scoffed like the fact that he and Dan hadn't seen each other in a few days was a personal insult. And Dan really shouldn't have found the notion as cute as he had, and definitely not as endearing.

"So what? You'll only come in if I'm here?" Dan asked, a warmth in his voice and a grin on his face. Is Phil really that attached to me? Ha. For some reason, the prospect that Phil didn't know what to do with himself when Dan wasn't around just made Dan's smile spread wider.

Phil blushed, pink flooding to his cheeks and protesting weakly.

"No one else here makes my coffee the way that you do." He said, his face still pink and his bottom lip finding its way in between his teeth. Dan laughed.

"I'll make sure to rub the fact that I make the best coffee in her face later, then."

Phil hummed and brought the coffee cup in his hands up to his lips again for another sip. 

"How're you feeling, Dan?" Phil asked, pulled Dan from his thoughts.

"What?"

"How are you feeling? Like I know when I get sick I'm in this weird half-sick half-better stage for like a week afterwards; are you one of those people?" Phil said, his gaze returning to Dan's.

Dan nearly snorted.

Half-sick, half-better, huh? I think you mean my permanent state, Phil, Dan thought. He didn't dare think about saying it out loud though, no matter how often Dan seemed to just blurt things out. He had some self control.

Dan thought back to the past few days, to all of the hours melting together, a prisoner in his own mind. He saw himself laying in bed, not moving, just...just thinking, for lack of a better word. And really, it wasn't thinking at all, but self torture. Dan remembered the numbness that filled every part of his body, and how it had taken Jaime Friday and Saturday to finally pull Dan out of his own headspace.

Even today, it had taken him more time than usual to get himself out of bed and start his day. The world wasn't quite as vibrant, the smile on his face not quite as sincere, his depression still louder than normal. So yes, maybe he was in that half-sick half-better stage.

"Yeah, I would say I'm still somewhat sick." Dan finally settled with. He felt like he was lying with how vague he was being right now. But it was better than spilling about his dead mental health, right?

Phil frowned and reached forward so his palm was flush against Dan's forehead. Dan sputtered and felt his cheeks grow hot at Phil's cool touch. He ignored the heat on his face and tried to pass it off as nonchalance, hoping to god that Phil didn't notice.

"Stop fidgeting I'm trying to see if you have a fever."

"And what if I do? I'm at work so it's not like I can do anything about it." Dan said, determinedly not thinking very hard about how there would be no fever because Dan wasn't sick. Or at least, not like how Phil thought he was.

"Dan, if you have a fever you're going home even if I have to walk you back myself." Phil replied, seriously.

“Well what does my forehead say then, oh wise one?” Dan asked sarcastically.

Their eyes locked and something in Phil's glimmered. “Turbulence,” Phil said. “Conflict between what you want and what you need.”

“And what do I need?”

The hand was withdrawn. Dan missed it immediately.

“To be beaten at Mario Kart, of course.”

“Phil,” Dan said, laughing a little nervously. Once again, he tried to ignore what had just happened as best as possible, batting his eyelashes and trying to stay in step with whatever this was that they were doing. “At least buy me dinner first.”

"Okay." Phil said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Dan's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He can't be serious. "We can swing by someplace before we get to my flat, or we can always order out." Oh my god he is serious.

"Besides," Phil said, with a sly curl of his lips, sipping at the coffee in his hand, "dinner is the least I could do.”

“Wait until you see me order a whole lobster. Your wallet will be crying.”

Phil’s eyes glittered. “Can you even get that delivered?”

“If you can’t, I’m quitting this job and setting up a lobster delivery service.”

“Nerd.”

“Dork.”

Dan wanted to know why talking with Phil was so easy, so natural. The only person that Dan had ever connected this fast with before was Jaime. And even then, their banter hadn't developed this quickly.  

"Invite me to the wedding," Jaime called from where she was wiping down a few tables with the ratty—but clean—washcloth she and Dan were always using. Neither Dan nor Phil had noticed her working a few feet away from them, and both of their eyes widened in surprise. Phil, however, took it in stride much better than Dan, the look on his face softening to one of amusement.

Fuck, how didn't I notice her there?

Phil laughed while Dan's face burned, surely as red as the lobsters they had just been fantasizing about. In the back of his mind, Dan worried Jaime would turn this into something like that, something to do with sex, like last time. He prayed that she wouldn't. He wasn't interested in hiding his discomfort at the implication that he would be involved in any kind of sexual situation, and he certainly wasn't interested in trying to pretend that the thought didn't make him mentally revisit parts of his past that just tear into his heart.

Dan's head started to work in overdrive, all kinds of repressed memories surfacing. He pushed them all away. Happy. That's what he was feeling a moment ago. Time to get back to it.

"I'm sure Dan will let you be his bridesmaid."

"Hey!" Dan cried, snapping out of his dark thoughts. He reached over and wacked Phil's arm, who looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Who decided that I would be the wife in this relationship? You would be the housewife for sure."

Phil gave him a look and Dan heard Jaime's snort all of the way from where she was standing clear as day. If anything, it only made Dan's blush deepen.

"The both of you are absolute bullies. I'm calling friend abuse for crushing my dreams."

"Yeah, Howell, I'm sure that's one of your dreams." Jaime muttered, finishing up with the table she was cleaning. Meanwhile, Dan wanted to find a hole and die.

He didn't like Phil like that. Sure, he was handsome and good company and had really fucking pretty eyes, but that was it. Besides, Dan didn't date.

Phil thankfully didn't comment, though. He twisted around in his seat so he could see Jaime and held out his coffee cup, a pleading expression on his face.

"Jaime, could you refill my coffee please?"

Jaime sighed, but stepped forward and grabbed it, nodding. She turned to walk away, but Dan called out to her as well.

"Could you get me a drink too?" Dan asked. Then, as an afterthought, he added: "Please?"

"You work here, Howell, you know how to make yourself a drink," she said, cocking an eyebrow, a disapproving look on her face. Dan shrugged and gave her the best puppy-eyed look he could manage.

"But I'm on break. Please? I won't ask for anything else the rest of the day."

"We both know that's a lie, but sure, Danny-boy, I'll get you a drink."

"Danny-boy?" Phil asked, a smirk starting to form on his face. Dan groaned, putting his head in his hands and cursing Jaime.

"Don't you dare start calling me that too, Phil."

Dan brought his head up to find Phil looking at him with a downright mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don't you dare."

"Are you-"

"Don't."

"-sure-"

"Phil!"

"-Danny-boy?"

"Oh my god."

Phil started to laugh and Dan didn't miss how the tip of his tongue stuck out in between his teeth or how after a few moments of breathless giggling he brought his hand up to his mouth. Fuck. It was adorable.

"I don't think this friendship is going to work with this blatant betrayal, Philip. I shouldn't have to put up with this. Especially not if I'm supposedly going to have to deal with this while I destroy you in Mario Kart."

Phil had finally managed to pull himself under control, and he gave Dan a semi-sobered look, but Dan could still see the repressed jokes and sly remarks that Phil was just dying to make.

"Beat me, huh? I'll have you know that I'm the best out of all of my friends in Mario Kart."

Jaime returned, two drinks in her hands, sticking her tongue out at the both of them in the process of handing them over. Dan noticed that she had drawn little frowny faces on their cups and laughed.

"Well," Dan said, turning back to Phil who was clutching his warm coffee in between his palms, "you're definitely wrong on that one, mate." Dan took a sip—yes, Jaime added in extra sugar. The heat of the liquid didn't bother Dan's mouth though; he was too used to chugging back a sometimes-still-burning drink on a regular basis in a desperate attempt to combat his lack of sleep in the mornings.

There was still a little voice at the back of Dan's skull that nervously fretted at how this was possibly a bad idea, but really, for once his social anxiety wasn't overriding everything in his system, and Dan was positively living for it.

"You're going to have to wait until the weekend though, if that's alright. I've got to work a bunch of double shifts to make up for the pay I lost by missing work, so I'm not going to have time until Saturday. You free then?"

"Yeah, I'm free for the whole day after I do my weather segment."

Dan snorted.

"Sorry, I forgot you were famous, Phil, but I'm glad you're making time for us peasants."

~~~~~

"No! No no no!" Phil jumped up from the sofa, his fingers furiously working at the buttons on the controller in his hands. His body was tense and his mouth was open in a silent protest. Dan, meanwhile, was laughing on the sofa behind him, relaxed as hell, and enjoying how Phil was desperately trying to beat him in Mario Kart.

He didn't stand a chance; Mario Kart was Dan's game.

Too bad it had taken Phil this long to figure out that Dan hadn't been lying when he said he would crush him.

Dan's grin grew to an impossible width when he got another power-up.

"Phil, oh Phil, I'd just stop trying if I were you."

Phil made a sound of protest, but didn't dare take his eyes off of the screen.

Maybe Dan was enjoying this just a little too much, but really, Phil was terrible. It was unbelievably easy to have this much of a lead on him, and Dan was sure that if he had pulled out all of the stops, he would have stretched the gap between him and Phil even wider. Currently, Dan was in first, Phil in fifth. Part of the reason why Phil was so far back was because Dan kept messing with him, dropping back just to hit him with a shell or something similar, more times than not making Phil swerve, running into a wall. And while Dan would laugh and pull back in first, Phil would groan and shove Dan's shoulder, pouting.

Dan drifted around the corner, and used his power-up, increasing his speed and sending him flying over the finish line.

"Yes!" Dan shrieked, thrusting his controller into the air and nearly jumping from the couch. Phil cried out in protest, a hopeless "No!" pouring out from his lips as the game ended. He spun around, and Dan couldn't stop laughing, feeling it in his whole body.

"How are you so good?! That's got to be something like witchcraft."

"Maybe you're just that bad." Dan managed to squeak out in between bursts of his hyena laugh. Phil's face scrunched up and Dan tried to reign himself in, but really, Phil made it too easy.

"That was just a practice! I could totally beat you now that my fingers are warmed up." He grumbled, walking back to the couch where Dan was splayed out and lying down, his long legs reaching all the way to the other side. He started to move them, but before he really could Phil just picked up his ankles and lifted them up, sliding under them and sitting on the sofa. Phil let Dan's feet drop into his lap and looked up at the screen, already selecting another map.

(Dan ignored the beginning of a blush on his cheeks because all Phil did was touch his ankle he shouldn't be acting like this)

"Are you looking to be beaten for a second time?"

"Ha. In your dreams, Howell. I'm going to be the one beating you today."

Dan scoffed, but the effect was ruined because he couldn't stop smiling.

Phil turned his head and looked over at Dan, a wide grin on his face.

"You have a dimple."

"What?"

"Your dimple. I've never seen it before. It's cute."

"Oh." Dan said, and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks now. Phil didn't comment on it, just letting his attention fall back to the TV. However, Phil let his hands drop so they were resting on top of Dan's crossed ankles, the touch seemingly to burn through Dan's jeans.

Dan didn't say anything about it, or about how there was something new added into the atmosphere between them—something he couldn't quite place.

Phil finally selected a track and a new game started. Dan flicked his eyes to the screen as the game started to count down from three. When the horn went off, he sided right up to Phil's kart and drove him into a wall, a brilliant plan of attack forming in his head. Phil tossed Dan a dirty look but Dan just stuck his tongue out. Whatever had popped up between them in that little exchange a few moments ago was gone, for now.

~~~~~

Phil tossed his controller onto the floor and crashed back into the back of the couch, an arm falling over his face.

"I give up. You win. You bloody win, Dan, there's no way anyone can beat you."

They had been playing Mario Kart for over two hours now, and Phil hadn't come close to winning once. In fact, the closest he had gotten was a whopping third. And in hindsight, with Dan harassing him as he was, getting third was a decent enough achievement.

"I'm glad it only took you a million games of me handing you your own arse for you to figure it out, Phil."

"Oh shut it," Phil said, pulling his arm down to smack Dan's leg. He was smiling though, so Dan knew that he wasn't as annoyed as he let on. Dan let his controller fall to the floor and shifted down further into the sofa, wiggling his toes on Phil's lap. Phil pretended to gag.

"I hate to break up our little Mario Kart marathon, but you promised me dinner and I think my stomach is literally going to digest itself."

"That sounds painful." Phil said. His hands were on Dan's ankles again, but this time Phil's thumb was unconsciously tracing little patterns on the skin that was exposed there.

"Mhm."

"Where should we order out from then? There's a Indian place not too far away, or maybe the Chinese one a few blocks away? Something else?"

"Phil," Dan whined, "I thought I was promised lobster remember?" Dan said, trying to bring back the playful atmosphere that it was a few moments ago. Now...now there was something more.

"Dan, there's a reason why I have two jobs. Maybe in like, ten years I can get you those lobsters."

Dan sighed as if in disappointment, and nodded. "How about some Indian then, if we must."

Phil rolled his eyes and once again curled his fingers around Dan's ankles, lifting them up just like before and sliding out from under Dan's legs, getting up.

"I'll call us in something, wait here."

After the food was ordered and Phil had returned, he had just shifted Dan's body once again so he could sit before letting Dan's feet fall onto the tops of his thighs. Dan was too nervous to move them.

Instead of playing more Mario Kart, however, they decided to turn on a movie while they were waiting for their food.

When it arrived, Phil hopped up before Dan could and paid, bringing the bags back and putting them on the table. Dan sat up eagerly, his stomach growling at the smells wafting from what Phil was spreading out in front of them. They dug in, sitting close enough for their thighs to brush together, the movie playing in the background. Dan didn't really care if he was missing parts though; it was an old Marvel film they had both seen countless times before.

Dan let out a little noise of content when he finished.

"You were right Phil, that was delicious. I want to marry the chef so they could cook like that for me every day."

Phil looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were intense. It pinned Dan down and dissected him, took him apart and looked at all of his pieces.

And Dan was helpless to fight it. He couldn't look away if he tried.

"Yeah? Would you propose to him with a bagel?" He asked, the question nothing but a breath.

There it was again. That…that feeling between them. Dan recognized it now, for certain. His heart picked up a little, and he could feel the beginnings of sweat prickling on the back of his neck.

He remembered why he didn't date, why he didn't do anything other than platonic. He remembered the tears and the screaming and the pain, the damage he was still dealing with. He remembered, god did he remember, but he still couldn't stop the Phil Phil Phil in his head.

Dan licked his lips. He needed to get them away from this territory.

He needed to.

But.

Fuck.

He didn't want to.

"Maybe. Would that bother you?"

Dan's heart was in his stomach, yet it was still beating like crazy, sending his senses into overdrive. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he also didn't want to stop. And god, he couldn't stop looking into Phil's blue eyes, fuck.

Phil just stared, not saying a word. Dan was about to pull away, to give up whatever he seemed to be chasing. But Phil didn't give him the chance.

Something shifted in Phil's eyes, some kind of resolve forming right before Dan's gaze. Phil leaned forward and curled a hand around Dan's jaw.

"You tell me," he whispered and pressed forward. Dan met him halfway and he couldn't help how his eyelids fluttered closed when their mouths met. It was soft, questioning, with a clear open exit for Dan to run to if he wanted, but there was nothing unsure in how Phil kissed him; there was no doubt in the emotions Phil was pouring over Dan.

Dan would be lying if he said that the kiss shut up every voice in his head. If he claimed that this mind wasn't a shitshow, in a civil war with itself. If there wasn't a part of him that wanted to run.

But Dan was tired of running. He was exhausted and he hadn't known it, and yes, part of him was screaming that this was a bad idea, but fuck it he didn't care.

He wanted to be happy.

Phil pulled away a little, letting their mouths disentangle, but Dan just fisted a handful of Phil's shirt and brought him crashing back.

Phil groaned and nipped at Dan's bottom lip, flicking over it with his tongue. He was leaning heavily into Dan, the one hand that wasn't cupping Dan's face gently was locked beside Dan's body, holding Phil up. Dan, for his part, was angled back, and as their lips met over and over and over again it felt like Dan was just falling farther and farther back.

Dan brought his other hand to the back of Phil's head, and using the one buried in his shirt as well, Dan let his body fall, pulling Phil down with him. It wasn't as coordinated as he had imagined in his head, however, and their mouths broke apart. Dan was lying on his back, his legs angled awkwardly to the side of Phil's body, which was still somewhat posed overtop of Dan's. Phil laughed a little, but Dan didn't have the time to be embarrassed because Phil reached down and parted Dan's legs so they were on either side of Phil's body. Phil let his body blanket Dan's, bringing their faces impossibly close to each other.

"Is this okay?" Phil asked, his eyes so close, his mouth just out of reach.

Dan couldn't help but nod and reach out, pulling Phil in the rest of the way so they were kissing again. Phil let out a little sound that sounded a bit like a chuckle before turning his head and letting their mouths slot together better than before.

Dan had always liked kissing, but god, kissing Phil was a dream come true.

He didn't know how long they made out on Phil's scratchy couch, but Dan enjoyed every moment of it. He loved how Phil's fingers ran through his hair and curled around his waist, how Dan's own palm fit so well between Phil's shoulder blades, and how Phil's soft fringe brushed up against Dan's forehead.

Of course, things came to a crashing end.

Phil was kissing the life out of Dan, pressing him into the sofa with the weight of his own body, when he slipped a hand under Dan's shirt, his fingers burning into Dan's skin.

And then reality came crashing down onto Dan.

Dan gasped and both of his hands flew to Phil's chest, pushing him away. Dan rolled out from under Phil and consequently onto the floor.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He knew this was a bad idea, he knew it.

All of the reasons why a relationship between them wouldn't work burst through his head like grenades. And really, it was just the same reason, repeated over and over in a mantra.

You're ace you're ace you're ace you're-

Dan sprang up from the floor and Phil was up from the couch in an instant, eyes wide and filled with fear and worry and concern.

"Oh my god Dan I'm so sorry! Fuck, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

It was cowardly, but Dan couldn't stand there. A panic attack more fierce than anything he had faced in a while was building up in him and he didn't want to be here when it hit. Fuck. fuck. He turned, nearly dashing for the door, stomping into his shoes at a lightning and inhuman speed. Phil had caught up with him, however, and before Dan could grasp the door handle, his hand grabbed Dan's sleeve.

"Dan please don't go oh my god I swear I didnt-"

"It's not going to work between us, Phil, I'm sorry," Dan said, not missing how breathless he sounded, how kissed-out Phil looked, "but it just won't okay? I can't love you like you need me to."

"Dan? Woah, slow down, I don't-"

"I'm can't, okay? Now please let go of me."

"But I-"

Dan didn't seem capable of letting Phil finish a single sentence because he was already opening his mouth to retally. But then again Dan didn't really care if he was being rude at the moment because his heart was about to beat out of his chest and the world was spinning and all of the bad thoughts were rushing around his head in a whirlwind, unable to be stopped. Dan was panicking.

"I'm asexual! I just can't, Phil!" he blurted, and just as the words passed from his mouth his heart stopped, as well as the rest of the world. Everything stopped. Phil's eyes went wide, and that was it, Dan was ripping his arm out of Phil's grip and ripping the door open, sprinting down the hallway and taking the stairs down from Phil's flat so fast he was sure he was going to trip and break his neck.

He could hear Phil running after him, trying to keep up, shouting for him to "Wait! Please!" but Dan wasn't listening. Dan wasn't listening.

Dan burst out of Phil's apartment complex and ran faster than he had ever before. His feet felt like they were barely skimming the ground and it was like he was being chased by Death itself, but he only ran faster, pushed himself harder. And he was crying, tears blurring his vision until he could barely see. He hiccuped on a sob, but Dan wasn't stopping to catch his breath.

He had to run.

From Phil.

From the situation.

From the kisses, the feeling, the giggles and smiles and joy.

From his inability to shut his mouth.

From himself.

He ran.

#phanfiction #phanfic #my fics #allyssaTM #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #au #ace!dan #weatherman!phil #angst #kissing #fluff #aphobia #phan #i dare you to stay #i dare you to stay: chapter 9 #chaptered #phandom

[writing-yj]

Blue Beetle x Reader: Finally

Anon: 25 with jaime!!! i love fake dating aus man i need one with my blue beetle boy (that isn't ted kord lol) also love your writing it's beautiful and congrats on the followers love ❤️

25: We’re supposed to look like a couple; act like it!”

I WROTE OUT THE ENTIRE THING OUT BUT I FORGOT TO USE THE PROMPT, IS IT OKAY THAT I DIDN’T USE IT? I’M REALLY REALLY SORRY.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Nothing, really

A/n: I’ve memorized this prompt already (even though I forgot to use it, I’m so sorry bby) I’m not adding it on the next prompt list xD It’s good to know that people love Jaime! I hope you enjoy this, m’dear!

Jaime’s hand felt warm as your fingers comfortably locked together. When it came to going undercover as a couple with your best friend, there was no reason to say no. You had no shame in showing that you were romantically interested in him; you didn’t care who knew. You weren’t entirely sure if he knew, but it wouldn’t be a problem if he did.

Unlike you, he fought tooth and nail to hide his feelings from you, but from others? They knew exactly what was going on. Almost the entire team was frustrated that you two wouldn’t get together when the attraction between you was so damn obvious. Bart regularly wants to force you two to kiss, but that was quickly shot down by Robin when he heard Bart planning it.

“So, babe, where do you want to go first?” You beamed as you cheesily used the endearing term.

“I’m not sure, babe, are you feeling hungry yet?” Jaime asked, doing the same thing, and he laughed. The strong friendship you two had made the act no problem at all. Hell, people thought you were dating on the reg anyway.

You put your head on his shoulder and his heart fluttered. “Starving, believe it or not.” 

“Oh, I believe it.” Jaime cautiously kissed your forehead. This ‘fake relationship’ came almost naturally, with some hesitation here and there.

You gasped dramatically. “Are you implying that I eat too much, Jaime? I’m so wounded!”

“You inhale food almost as often as Bart, mi amor.” Jaime rolled his eyes playfully.

His use of Spanish made you quietly giggle. “...You’re not wrong.” You admitted.

“Glad to know you agree,” Jaime scouted for a good food place along the busy street, whilst you searched for the target. No such luck, for you. He pointed to a place far down the street and said, “We’re eating over there and you have no choice, their food is the best.” He then pulled you in the direction of the restaurant with determination.

You yelped at the sudden action. “Okay, I’m coming! I’ll take your word for it!”

The small restaurant had a cozy, warm feeling to it that made you feel right at home. A wave of good-smelling food hit you the moment you came in, and your stomach growled at the same time. It was obvious that it had good food, but no one made food like Jaime’s mother could.

After ordering, Jaime picked a two-person table and pulled your chair out for you. For show, he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it while making eye contact with you. The action made you smirk with a barely visible blush, and you sat down as gracefully as possible. What was an undercover game for you two, other random bystanders thought you were two teenagers in an unbreakable love.

“And you say I’m dramatic.” You teased as you propped your head up with your right hand. “I gotta admit Reyes, I’m a little flustered; you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” You sent a wink his way, and his blush made you snicker. You were having the time of your life on this mission.

“I-I do my best.” Jaime stuttered just a little bit. “You’re satisfied with it?”

“For now; I might need more later.” You chirped and thanked the waitress who brought you your drinks. After taking a few long sips, you continued. “But really, thanks for doing this Jaime. I can’t imagine what it would be like to date anyone else.” It was one hundred percent true, whether it be going undercover as a couple or truly being one.

Jaime was internally screaming. “No problem, (Y/n); I didn’t want to waste a good opportunity.” He was nervous as heck and tried his hardest to not trip over his words.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. You tried to say something, but it came out as an embarrassing but love-struck giggle, and it made Jaime choke on his lemonade. He smiled, too, but not after he was done almost dying.

Bart slowly and subtly looked over the top of the newspaper he was ‘reading’ and looked at you two from a couple booths over. The plan was certainly in motion, and it was going perfectly. He heard every word, and he saw the genuine meaning behind them.

“It’s working!” Bart whispered into his comm. “They’re flirting. It’s going to happen!”

Barbara and Cass were looking through the window at a safe distance and they squealed happily. They were getting you together or someone was going to die today. “Yes, yes, yes!”

However, Bart was one of the worst whisperers in the world, and you were often renowned for your excellent hearing. While Jaime was lost in his fresh-cooked food, your head snapped over to where Bart was hiding behind a newspaper. 

Bart went pale as a sheet and he pulled the newspaper back up to completely hide his head. “I’ve been compromised! She knows.” He couldn’t just run out of there; someone would notice!

“Jaime, I’m going to the bathroom; make sure my food doesn’t get cold.” You said cheerily and he nodded. You rose from your seat casually and walked over to Bart’s booth, where Jaime wasn’t able to see.

The young speedster was quite literally shaking in his shoes when you were standing just a foot away from him. You could barely see a tuft of his red hair, but it was definitely Bart’s. You cleared your throat and inncoently asked, “Hello, uhm, sir?”

“...Yes?” Bart tried to sound masculine, but it came out as a shaky squeak. 

“May I borrow your newspaper? Just for a moment; I have to check the advice column to see if my mother’s submission was printed.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. “N-no, I’m reading it at the moment. It’s a really good article see, and-”

“Just give me the damn paper, Bart.” Your voice dropped to it’s normal pitch.

Bart dropped the paper and looked terrified. “I’m sorry! We were just trying to get you guys together because you guys were oblivious to see that you liked each other and neither of you are going to make a move so we wanted to help and we-” His stress over the situation came out in the speed of his talking, and he was going a mile a minute. 

“Jesus Christ, kiddo, calm down. I was going to give you a ‘thank you’ but I’d rather not add to your current and unfortunate emotional crisis; wish I could help!” 

Knowing that he wasn’t in trouble, Bart left the restaurant as soon as possible and ran at full speed to safety. That was terrifying for him; the last person who made you furious, conveniently a villain, got several bones broken.

A few moments later, you walked back over to Jaime, who was already halfway done with his meal. “It’s still warm, but I don’t think it will be for long.” He gestured to your food. “It’s really good.”

“How would you know if mine tastes good? Did you steal a bite?” You asked and narrowed your eyes.

Jaime looked up at you with a straight face. “Because we ordered the same thing, idiota.”

You put your hand on your chest and feigned a look of hurt. “Jaime! How could you say that?!” You dramatically fell back into your seat. “Were all of your loving words a lie?” It came out as a whimper as you started to solemnly eat your food.

“Why would they ever be a lie, mi amor?” Jaime reached out and grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. It was such a loving gesture that it made your heart skip a couple beats.

“We are undercover for this... You’re a pretty good actor.” This was your chance to see if he really does like you back. 

Jaime inhaled sharply. You thought it was an act, and you looked sad about it. He hated it when you were sad. “W-Well, I uhm, I-” Jaime exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding and he looked down at his food. “I... I wasn’t acting, (Y/n). I meant what I said.” He was self-conscious about it, and his face was very red. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“Jaime, I have been flirting with you for months.” You interrupted him with something he was shocked to hear. “It wasn’t always friendly banter, bug-boy. I thought at least your scarab would know that.”

He hissed to his beetle, “I thought you were wrong, shut up!”

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. So even the Scarab knew about it, but Jaime didn’t believe it. Now that you told him, he felt like an idiot for not noticing; the first thing you said when you met him was: “Well, hello there. You’re pretty cute.”

“At least one good thing came out of this mission,” He chuckled and looked out the window. “I haven’t seen anything suspicious all day.”

You grinned. “Actually, it was just a plan to get us together; I caught Bart trying to hide and watch us. I somehow scared him into confessing without even asking.” Granted, it was a smart plan, but you felt it was just a tad unnecessary.

Jaime’s embarrassed expression turned to one of annoyance. “That little-!” He stopped as he tried to find an appropriate word to describe his wicked-fast friend. “You know what, it’s fine, I have no complaints.”

“Well I’d hope not!” You picked up the fork with the hand Jaime wasn’t holding and took a bite of your relatively warm food. “Damn, you weren’t lying; this is good.”

Jaime smiled for probably the fiftieth time that day, but then his cheeks reddened greatly. “Since we, uh... Since we both feel the same way, will-” He could barely ask his intended question.

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you became my genuine boyfriend, does that sound okay?” You asked casually after swallowing your food. “I personally think that you’d be a great significant other, seeing as how today went.”

“I-I was about to ask that, actually.” He was trying to register that you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You teased him, “You seemed to be having trouble, so I helped.” He was cute when he was nervous. Well, he always is, but especially when he’s nervous. “So is that a yes?

“Of course (Y/n), how could I say no?”

Bart ran through HQ while screeching, “They’re finally dating guys! Blue and (Y/n) are together! Officially! Our plan worked!” The OTP of the group was legit at last. No one had to go through the torture of watching two teens skirting around their obvious love for each other.

The PDA wasn’t even that bad; you and Jaime kept it to a minimum, but it wasn’t a secret that he treated you like a queen. He thought you deserved nothing less than that.

I told you to court her sooner, Jaime Reyes. 

I’M SORRY THAT I FORGOT TO USE THE PROMPT, DO YOU STILL LIKE IT THO

#jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes imagine #blue beetle #blue beetle imagine #blue beetle x reader #young justice #young justice imagine #young justice x reader #young justice season 2 #prompt #prompts #300 followers special

[alisaint]

lmao denise you make laugh so much with the got blogging, i do watch it, is the only thing keeping me alive during this zrought, i dont think jon will identify himself as a targ, like his idol is ned, he loves the north so much so that doesnt really bothers me. also i sadly dont think the prophecy will be fulfilled by jaime. after she blew the sept i thought hed be done buuuuut he just let het her spit on tommen like that...

ok so i cut this into two parts in case u Do know the spoilers and in case u don’t, the half above the read more is Safe n Spoiler Free meanwhile under the readmore isn’t so !!!!!!!!!!!!! stay Safe

it’s the only thing keeping me alive too!!!! can u tell by my sporadic blogging that i’m going around peaking into different shows n movies trying 2 find smth to keep me afloat until zayn makes the world His again. rip rip rip.

i see what ur saying but also........ i’m Scared :( jus bc ned is his idol n the north is his home n Blah Blah Blah don’t mean ............ that he wouldn’t act on his targ blood .... n i’m biased as FUCK cos i don’t like dany i don’t like her politics etc etc she’s always fallen flat as a character to me and i don’t !!! want!!! him!! near!!! her!!! stay in the norf, jon

i feel like j x c’s relationship is toxic as a whole and the love he feels for her is not wholly jus romantic love i think it’s also “we’re stuck with each other” “we’re all we have left” and bits of obligation as well n nikolaj has spoken abt that himself also which i kno it doesn’t really matter at the end of the day bc he’s the actor not the visionary of the show but. he doesn’t ring as Equally evil to me as cer///sei. and if the show does fan service bc everyone loves tyrion n expects him to be the one to do it then that’s also fine but.... as someone that likes 2 see villains get what they deserve n ppl leave toxic relationships n be with ppl who make them better it would be Very Nice if jaime was the one that did it :p

OKAY SO NOW FOR MY BETTER EXPLAINED ANSWER LETS START FROM THE BOTTOM UP BC IDK HOW TO FUCKING ORGANIZE ANYTHING EVER

i get what ur saying abt how she blew up the sept and isn’t openly mourning for their son but i think that’s because she already knew this was going to happen to her and is channeling her grief into something different, read: anger + revenge. she’s fighting for what��s theirs, she’s fighting for their house, and trying very hard to keep them from following their children’s fates and i think that’s v important to note, too. jaime was taken aback by it bc he didn’t receive that prophecy, and also, while yes he was their father, he wasn’t really much of an active parent. he only really felt like one when he had that moment with myrcella before she died. that was his first actualized OMG I’m A Dad™ and ofc despite their position he didn’t have any idea that they [ at least tommen n myrcella ] would die when and how they did, in such a short succession. they’re both grieving jus in different ways, and later on cer///sei after a meeting discussing white walkers says she wants them to kill off all her enemies for her jaime ends up being disgusted bc holy shit woman did u not listen to Anything at all is that what ur brain is abt and leaves. he actually gets on his horse and leaves her in king’s landing. do u wanna kno where he goes?

north.

which...... not to make it obvious that i’m fucking pissing myself and crying but .... u kno who’s also up north? brienne.

a kind, noble, and honest woman. that makes him better. “it was always yours” wha thef uck kyle

BUT ANYW KBFDSHBFKSHJDBFKJHSDBKJFHSD OK ENOUGH W MY BIAS ON THE LAST BIT LETS MOVE ON

gorl...... jon n dany get it on ..... that only intensifies my fear bc while idk if he actually is told he’s a targ before that (the spoilers don’t say, it’s jus known that others find out before him) they have a family tradition of like. incest pretty much. n even tho rhaegar broke that.... a lot of ppl ship them together and the show prob is gonna go that direction since i doubt they’re going to introduce another love interest for jon. rip in pieces jorah and that other pretty boy whose name i always forget somehow but can remember his quotes in complete detail

and i’m also scared that he’s gonna suffer the Mixed Kid Syndrome n while the norf loves him n he’s fought for them n literally lost his life for them that him bein a targ might change things a lil..... like wrow fellas.... and again im scared abt that fan service binch and the foreshadowing like robb left n died n while i don’t think jon is going to die yet (if he does, it’ll be next season prob since it’s not this one) i think sansa does.... end up being the queen of the north. like idk. idk. i’m torn. jon , despite not being a full stark, has the stark face the attributes he’s a northerner he’s the white wolf he loves his people he’s just like them but he’s also a dragon. he’s part of the family that will most likely get the throne. u can’t jus.... like.... ignore dat. u kno?

anyway im scared and always crying thanks for tuning into this mess

[readbookywooks]

Tyrion

Pod dressed him for his ordeal in a plush velvet tunic of Lannister crimson and brought him his chain of office. Tyrion left it on the bedside table. His sister misliked being reminded that he was the King's Hand, and he did not wish to inflame the relations between them any further.

Varys caught up with him as he was crossing the yard. "My lord," he said, a little out of breath. "You had best read this at once." He held out a parchment in a soft white hand. "A report from the north."

"Good news or bad?" Tyrion asked.

"That is not for me to judge."

Tyrion unrolled the parchment. He had to squint to read the words in the torchlit yard. "Gods be good," he said softly. "Both of them?"

"I fear so, my lord. It is so sad. So grievous sad. And them so young and innocent."

Tyrion remembered how the wolves had howled when the Stark boy had fallen. Are they howling now, I wonder? "Have you told anyone else?" he asked.

"Not as yet, though of course I must."

He rolled up the letter. "I'll tell my sister." He wanted to see how she took the news. He wanted that very much.

The queen looked especially lovely that night. She wore a low-cut gown of deep green velvet that brought out the color of her eyes. Her golden hair tumbled across her bare shoulders, and around her waist was a woven belt studded with emeralds. Tyrion waited until he had been seated and served a cup of wine before thrusting the letter at her. He said not a word. Cersei blinked at him innocently and took the parchment from his hand.

"I trust you're pleased," he said as she read. "You wanted the Stark boy dead, I believe."

Cersei made a sour face. "It was Jaime who threw him from that window, not me. For love, he said, as if that would please me. It was a stupid thing to do, and dangerous besides, but when did our sweet brother ever stop to think?"

"The boy saw you," Tyrion pointed out.

"He was a child. I could have frightened him into silence." She looked at the letter thoughtfully. "Why must I suffer accusations every time some Stark stubs his toe? This was Greyjoy's work, I had nothing to do with it."

"Let us hope Lady Catelyn believes that."

Her eyes widened. "She wouldn't—"

"—kill Jaime? Why not? What would you do if Joffrey and Tommen were murdered?"

"I still hold Sansa!" the queen declared.

"We still hold Sansa," he corrected her, "and we had best take good care of her. Now where is this supper you've promised me, sweet sister?"

Cersei set a tasty table, that could not be denied. They started with a creamy chestnut soup, crusty hot bread, and greens dressed with apples and pine nuts. Then came lamprey pie, honeyed ham, buttered carrots, white beans and bacon, and roast swan stuffed with mushrooms and oysters. Tyrion was exceedingly courteous; he offered his sister the choice portions of every dish, and made certain he ate only what she did. Not that he truly thought she'd poison him, but it never hurt to be careful.

The news about the Starks had soured her, he could see. "We've had no word from Bitterbridge?" she asked anxiously as she speared a bit of apple on the point of her dagger and ate it with small, delicate bites.

"None."

"I've never trusted Littlefinger. For enough coin, he'd go over to Stannis in a heartbeat."

"Stannis Baratheon is too bloody righteous to buy men. Nor would he make a comfortable lord for the likes of Petyr. This war has made for some queer bedfellows, I agree, but those two? No."

As he carved some slices off the ham, she said, "We have Lady Tanda to thank for the pig."

"A token of her love?"

"A bribe. She begs leave to return to her castle. Your leave as well as mine. I suspect she fears you'll arrest her on the road, as you did Lord Gyles."

"Does she plan to make off with the heir to the throne?" Tyrion served his sister a cut of ham and took one for himself. "I'd sooner she remain. If she wants to feel safe, tell her to bring down her garrison from Stokeworth. As many men as she has."

"If we need men so badly, why did you send away your savages?" A certain testiness crept into Cersei's voice.

"It was the best use I could have made of them," he told her truthfully. "They're fierce warriors, but not soldiers. In formal battle, discipline is more important than courage. They've already done us more good in the kingswood than they would ever have done us on the city walls."

As the swan was being served, the queen questioned him about the conspiracy of the Antler Men. She seemed more annoyed than afraid. "Why are we plagued with so many treasons? What injury has House Lannister ever done these wretches?"

"None," said Tyrion, "but they think to be on the winning side . . . which makes them fools as well as traitors."

"Are you certain you've found them all?"

"Varys says so." The swan was too rich for his taste.

A line appeared on Cersei's pale white brow, between those lovely eyes. "You put too much trust in that eunuch."

"He serves me well."

"Or so he'd have you believe. You think you're the only one he whispers secrets to? He gives each of us just enough to convince us that we'd be helpless without him. He played the same game with me, when I first wed Robert. For years, I was convinced I had no truer friend at court, but now . . . " She studied his face for a moment. "He says you mean to take the Hound from Joffrey."

Damn Varys. "I need Clegane for more important duties."

"Nothing is more important than the life of the king."

"The life of the king is not at risk. Joff will have brave Ser Osmund guarding him, and Meryn Trant as well." They're good for nothing better. "I need Balon Swann and the Hound to lead sorties, to make certain Stannis gets no toehold on our side of the Blackwater."

"Jaime would lead the sorties himself."

"From Riverrun? That's quite a sortie."

"Joff's only a boy."

"A boy who wants to be part of this battle, and for once he's showing some sense. I don't intend to put him in the thick of the fighting, but he needs to be seen. Men fight more fiercely for a king who shares their peril than one who hides behind his mother's skirts."

"He's thirteen, Tyrion."

"Remember Jaime at thirteen? If you want the boy to be his father's son, let him play the part. Joff wears the finest armor gold can buy, and he'll have a dozen gold cloaks around him at all times. If the city looks to be in the least danger of falling, I'll have him escorted back to the Red Keep at once."

He had thought that might reassure her, but he saw no sign of pleasure in those green eyes. "Will the city fall?"

"No." But if it does, pray that we can hold the Red Keep long enough for our lord father to march to our relief.

"You've lied to me before, Tyrion."

"Always with good reason, sweet sister. I want amity between us as much as you do. I've decided to release Lord Gyles." He had kept Gyles safe for just this gesture. "You can have Ser Boros Blount back as well."

The queen's mouth tightened. "Ser Boros can rot at Rosby," she said, "but Tommen—"

"—stays where he is. He's safer under Lord Jacelyn's protection than he would ever have been with Lord Gyles."

Serving men cleared away the swan, hardly touched. Cersei beckoned for the sweet. "I hope you like blackberry tarts."

"I love all sorts of tarts."

"Oh, I've known that a long while. Do you know why Varys is so dangerous?"

"Are we playing at riddles now? No."

"He doesn't have a cock."

"Neither do you." And don't you just hate that, Cersei?

"Perhaps I'm dangerous too. You, on the other hand, are as big a fool as every other man. That worm between your legs does half your thinking."

Tyrion licked the crumbs off his fingers. He did not like his sister's smile. "Yes, and just now my worm is thinking that perhaps it is time I took my leave."

"Are you unwell, brother?" She leaned forward, giving him a good look at the top of her breasts. "Suddenly you appear somewhat flustered."

"Flustered?" Tyrion glanced at the door. He thought he'd heard something outside. He was beginning to regret coming here alone. "You've never shown much interest in my cock before."

"It's not your cock that interests me, so much as what you stick it in. I don't depend on the eunuch for everything, as you do. I have my own ways of finding out things . . . especially things that people don't want me to know."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Only this—I have your little whore."

Tyrion reached for his wine cup, buying a moment to gather his thoughts. "I thought men were more to your taste."

"You're such a droll little fellow. Tell me, have you married this one yet?" When he gave her no answer she laughed and said, "Father will be ever so relieved."

His belly felt as if it were full of eels. How had she found Shae? Had Varys betrayed him? Or had all his precautions been undone by his impatience the night he rode directly to the manse? "Why should you care who I choose to warm my bed?"

"A Lannister always pays his debts," she said. "You've been scheming against me since the day you came to King's Landing. You sold Myrcella, stole Tommen, and now you plot to have Joff killed. You want him dead so you can rule through Tommen."

Well, I can't say the notion isn't tempting. "This is madness, Cersei. Stannis will be here in days. You need me."

"For what? Your great prowess in battle?"

"Bronn's sellswords will never fight without me," he lied.

"Oh, I think they will. It's your gold they love, not your impish wit. Have no fear, though, they won't be without you. I won't say I haven't thought of slitting your throat from time to time, but Jaime would never forgive me if I did."

"And the whore?" He would not call her by name. If I can convince her Shae means nothing to me, perhaps . . .

"She'll be treated gently enough, so long as no harm comes to my sons. If Joff should be killed, however, or if Tommen should fall into the hands of our enemies, your little cunt will die more painfully than you can possibly imagine."

She truly believes I mean to kill my own nephew. "The boys are safe," he promised her wearily. "Gods be good, Cersei, they're my own blood! What sort of man do you take me for?"

"A small and twisted one."

Tyrion stared at the dregs on the bottom of his wine cup. What would Jaime do in my place? Kill the bitch, most likely, and worry about the consequences afterward. But Tyrion did not have a golden sword, nor the skill to wield one. He loved his brother's reckless wrath, but it was their lord father he must try and emulate. Stone, I must be stone, I must be Casterly Rock, hard and unmovable. If I fail this test, I had as lief seek out the nearest grotesquerie. "For all I know, you've killed her already," he said.

"Would you like to see her? I thought you might." Cersei crossed the room and threw open the heavy oaken door. "Bring in my brother's whore."

Ser Osmund's brothers Osney and Osfryd were peas from the same pod, tall men with hooked noses, dark hair, and cruel smiles. She hung between them, eyes wide and white in her dark face. Blood trickled from her broken lip, and he could see bruises through her torn clothing. Her hands were bound with rope, and they'd gagged her so she could not speak.

"You said she wouldn't be hurt."

"She fought." Unlike his brothers, Osney Kettleblack was clean-shaven, so the scratches showed plainly on his bare cheeks. "Got claws like a shadowcat, this one."

"Bruises heal," said Cersei in a bored tone. "The whore will live. So long as Joff does."

Tyrion wanted to laugh at her. It would have been so sweet, so very very sweet, but it would have given the game away. You've lost, Cersei, and the Kettleblacks are even bigger fools than Bronn claimed. All he needed to do was say the words.

Instead he looked at the girl's face and said, "You swear you'll release her after the battle?"

"If you release Tommen, yes."

He pushed himself to his feet. "Keep her then, but keep her safe. If these animals think they can use her . . . well, sweet sister, let me point out that a scale tips two ways." His tone was calm, flat, uncaring; he'd reached for his father's voice, and found it. "Whatever happens to her happens to Tommen as well, and that includes the beatings and rapes." If she thinks me such a monster, I'll play the part for her.

Cersei had not expected that. "You would not dare."

Tyrion made himself smile, slow and cold. Green and black, his eyes laughed at her. "Dare? I'll do it myself."

His sister's hand flashed at his face, but he caught her wrist and bent it back until she cried out. Osfryd moved to her rescue. "One more step and I'll break her arm," the dwarf warned him. The man stopped. "You remember when I said you'd never hit me again, Cersei?" He shoved her to the floor and turned back to the Kettleblacks. "Untie her and remove that gag."

The rope had been so tight as to cut off the blood to her hands. She cried out in pain as the circulation returned. Tyrion massaged her fingers gently until feeling returned. "Sweetling," he said, "you must be brave. I am sorry they hurt you."

"I know you'll free me, my lord."

"I will," he promised, and Alayaya bent over and kissed him on the brow. Her broken lips left a smear of blood on his forehead. A bloody kiss is more than I deserve, Tyrion thought. She would never have been hurt but for me.

Her blood still marked him as he looked down at the queen. "I have never liked you, Cersei, but you were my own sister, so I never did you harm. You've ended that. I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid." In war, his father had told him once, the battle is over in the instant one army breaks and flees. No matter that they're as numerous as they were a moment before, still armed and armored; once they had run before you they would not turn to fight again. So it was with Cersei. "Get out!" was all the answer she could summon. "Get out of my sight!"

Tyrion bowed. "Good night, then. And pleasant dreams."

He made his way back to the Tower of the Hand with a thousand armored feet marching through his skull. I ought to have seen this coming the first time I slipped through the back of Chataya's wardrobe. Perhaps he had not wanted to see. His legs were aching badly by the time he had made the climb. He sent Pod for a flagon of wine and pushed his way into his bedchamber.

Shae sat cross-legged in the canopied bed, nude but for the heavy golden chain that looped across the swell of her breasts: a chain of linked golden hands, each clasping the next.

Tyrion had not expected her. "What are you doing here?"

Laughing, she stroked the chain. "I wanted some hands on my titties . . . but these little gold ones are cold."

For a moment he did know what to say. How could he tell her that another woman had taken the beating meant for her, and might well die in her place should some mischance of battle fell Joffrey? He wiped Alayaya's blood from his brow with the heel of his hand. "The Lady Lollys—"

"She's asleep. Sleep's all she ever wants to do, the great cow. She sleeps and she eats. Sometimes she falls asleep while she's eating. The food falls under the blankets and she rolls in it, and I have to clean her." She made a disgusted face. "All they did was fuck her."

"Her mother says she's sick."

"She has a baby in her belly, that's all."

Tyrion gazed around the room. Everything seemed much as he left it. "How did you enter? Show me the hidden door."

She gave a shrug. "Lord Varys made me wear a hood. I couldn't see, except . . . there was one place, I got a peep at the floor out the bottom of the hood. It was all tiles, you know, the kind that make a picture?"

"A mosaic?"

Shae nodded. "They were colored red and black. I think the picture was a dragon. Otherwise, everything was dark. We went down a ladder and walked a long ways, until I was all twisted around. Once we stopped so he could unlock an iron gate. I brushed against it when we went through. The dragon was past the gate. Then we went up another ladder, with a tunnel at the top. I had to stoop, and I think Lord Varys was crawling."

Tyrion made a round of the bedchamber. One of the sconces looked loose. He stood on his toes and tried to turn it. It revolved slowly, scraping against the stone wall. When it was upside down, the stub of the candle fell out. The rushes scattered across the cold stone floor did not show any particular disturbance. "Doesn't m'lord want to bed me?" asked Shae.

"In a moment." Tyrion threw open his wardrobe, shoved the clothing aside, and pushed against the rear panel. What worked for a whorehouse might work for a castle as well . . . but no, the wood was solid, unyielding. A stone beside the window seat drew his eye, but all his tugging and prodding went for naught. He returned to the bed frustrated and annoyed.

Shae undid his laces and threw her arms around his neck. "Your shoulders feel as hard as rocks," she murmured. "Hurry, I want to feel you inside me." Yet as her legs locked around his waist, his manhood left him. When she felt him go soft, Shae slid down under the sheets and took him in her mouth, but even that could not rouse him.

After a few moments he stopped her. "What's wrong?" she asked. All the sweet innocence of the world was written there in the lines of her young face.

Innocence? Fool, she's a whore, Cersei was right, you think with your cock, fool, fool.

"Just go to sleep, sweetling," he urged, stroking her hair. Yet long after Shae had taken his advice, Tyrion himself still lay awake, his fingers cupped over one small breast as he listened to her breathing.

#ClashofKings