#i can only get out my Yearning here bc the subject does not follow this blog

[potionsellerwitch]

Won a toy for a cute guy today from a claw machine (on my first try no less) so I'm gonna be riding that high for a long while. Great way to end a great trip, I highly recommend doing it if you get the chance👌

[a-libra-writes]

Yearning - Davos x Baratheon!Reader

Requested by an anon, hope you like what I did with it! I really like this prompt, it inspired that Baratheon Sister imagine. I might write a part two or so to this fic bc i enjoyed writing this Reader ^^

Summary: Davos and Baratheon!Reader have been dancing around their feelings for years. The oncoming war finally gets them to admit it -- lots of fluff & some angst but mostly FLUFF

If you’d like your name to appear - instead of Y/N - this fantastic extension can help you do that!

He wasn’t normally a man to dwell on hindsight, but Davos should have stopped her the moment she set foot on Dragonstone. He should have known she’d be here eventually, he should have had men he trusted waiting at the shore. He didn’t think she’d barge her way in so quickly.

Well, that was his own foolishness. It had been some years since Davos had last seen his king’s younger sister, but he should have known her fiery personality wasn’t steadied in the slightest. She had Robert’s good humor, Renly’s natural magnetism, and all of Stannis’ stubbornness. The old knight had only seen them truly butt heads once, and that wasn’t over the matter of the realm.

Davos ran up the narrow, dark staircase as quick as he dared. This whole castle was a gloomy deathtrap. Just as he reached the stop step, he heard a door slamming and echoing off the walls. Even the candles seemed to flicker from the noise.

Her heels hit the floors so hard, it was a wonder they didn’t snap. Davos thought she’d run straight into him, but Y/N Baratheon stopped short. 

She was breathing hard, some of her hair had fallen out of her tidy Southern braids, and her lips were pursed together so tight he thought she might bruise them.

Davos spoke first to give her a moment to breathe. “Lady Y/N. You’re here.”

Y/N breathed in deeply and rubbed her head as if it pained her. He wouldn’t be surprised if a headache sprang on her now, and he couldn’t help but think of the way Stannis would grind his teeth. Y/N finally said, “Yes. I’m here. I know I should have come sooner.” 

“It was good ya stayed with Robert, to say goodbye. King Stannis … should have been there too.”

“Yes. He should have. He shouldn’t have run when Jon Arryn died, he should have stayed to help Lord Stark - gods, never mind what we all should have done. It’s time to take care of what’s happening now.” She tried to tuck some of her hair aside, just noticing how it was coming undone. 

Davos didn’t miss how quickly Y/N’s anger was fizzling out. All the energy to flee to Dragonstone, then argue with Stannis and come storming out was too much. Unlike the oldest Baratheon, Y/N didn’t thrive off strife. 

“I didn’t know Renly would run, Davos,” She said. “I swear I didn’t.” 

Davos couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer and touching her arm. He’d known her as long as Stannis, after all. She was there during the siege. 

“It isn’t your fault, my lady, you don’t control what a grown man does. Did Stannis say something?”

“Well … No, he’s as upset as I am, but I was there! Renly didn’t tell me anything! It was Lord Stark who told me later, and as soon as I leave here, he’s arrested -! If I stayed, I could have helped him …” 

“No, you should not have stayed,” Davos squeezed both her arms now, addressing her firmly. “It was a good thing to leave that den of snakes, Y/N. Ya couldn’t have done anything for Lord Stark.”

Under any ordinary circumstances, Davos wouldn’t think of touching the sister of his king in such a way, even if they always had been friendly. Lady Selyse would positively riot about it, he knew, and the only thing keeping him in place now was how much he hated the distress on Y/N’s sweet face. Davos wasn’t sure if any of her brothers were aware of how much she worried over them, placated them, tried to mediate between them. While she typically had a good relationship with Stannis, they’d been strained since Jon Arryn.

Davos wasn’t surprised their first meeting in months hadn’t gone well. There was still trouble on her face, but before he could say anything else, he felt her arms wrap around him.

“My lady - you shouldn’t -”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t trust her.”

Davos didn’t have to ask whom Y/N was speaking of. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

“What do you think?”

It was absurd to think anyone would be hearing in these stony and cramped halls, but with the shadows and facades of dragons came an uneasiness that Davos disliked. He was a superstitious man, what sailor wasn’t, and this castle sent every hair on edge.

“Careful where you speak, my lady.”

Y/N scoffed as she pulled away from him. Davos welcomed the coolness that followed, but Y/N hadn’t let go of him completely. It didn’t seem like the time to point out impropriety, so he stuck to warning her.

“I mean it. It isn’t just her. The Queen’s men, too. And your brother…”

Y/N shook her head, but Davos wasn’t sure if she truly understood the extent of the Red Woman’s influence.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just … I should lie down. The travelling took much out of me.” 

"Aye, that ya should, my lady. A good rest and a proper meal. You'll be able to talk to your brother easier after that. He needs you on his side, even if he doesn't realize it."

It was so relieving to see a smile return to her face, small as it was. "I missed you, Davos." 

If those sweet words and that smile weren't enough to do him in, Y/N gave him another tight hug. Davos had trouble returning it. It didn't seem right to touch her or have her so close.

"Lady Y/N - you're, ah, a princess now. I can't - it isn't proper to, ah, go around embracin' old former smugglers -"

"Oh, stop." Y/N said playfully, but she finally stepped away. Davos hoped to all the gods that the hall was dark enough for her not to see the blush he was positive he had. "A princess?"

"But if I'm not mistaken, ya were still a princess when Robert was alive."

"Little Shireen and Myrcella are princesses, but if it makes the lords think they're flattering and keeps Queen Selyse from puckering her lips at me, then fine.” 

Davos chuckled. He really had missed Y/N’s wit. It was rare to find such a vivacious woman in court, especially at the Red Keep. Her freedom as an unmarried sister of the King meant she did as she pleased, especially since Robert was not keen on marrying her, in spite of her age. He was roped into cooperation by the Lannisters, and he wanted to avoid that for Y/N. 

It was one of Robert’s few wise moves, Davos knew, and Y/N’s darling face and easy smiles meant he often forgot she was a proper lady. Pleased as he was to see her unmarried, he knew she wouldn’t stay that way with this coming war. Stannis would need to make alliances.

“No dark faces, Ser Davos,” Y/N said, always using his first name, ever since she first met him. “It’s gloomy enough around here. Will you escort me to my room? I can’t navigate this castle for anything.” 

“I will do my best, Lady Y/N. It’s still a foreign place to me.” Davos accepted the arm she so easily slipped into his. It was easy to set aside his feelings when they were entire kingdoms apart, but for the first time in years, they’d be under the same roof. 

Y/N stared at the dark wine in her goblet. Robert never tired of the stuff. She was amazed how much alcohol could fit in one man without him being sick, although sometimes the sick did come. Stannis discouraged Y/N away from Robert’s parties, but she wasn’t an impressionable little girl. She developed a distaste for drink after she’d seen the way it affected Robert’s body and temper.

Now I understand I just didn’t have a reason to drink. Y/N sourly tossed back the wine. She grimaced at how bitter it was, but the taste was quick to dull. She was sipping it at first, then drinking, and now she could gulp. Wouldn’t her dear brothers be proud?

Her self pity was rudely interrupted by a young page. “Pardon me, Princess Y/N. Ser Davos Seaworth would like to speak with you.”

Y/N glanced toward the boy. He was barely old enough to tie his tunic, but it was better than the ambitious minor ladies who wanted to be her handmaidens. Y/N refused to take on any here, especially if they were speaking that Azor Ahai nonsense. This boy was clumsy, but honest. 

“Let him in, dear. You can leave me for the rest of the evening.”

Davos entered her large war tent - a novelty for Y/N - dressed simpler than the page. They watched the boy fumble with closing the tent flap before leaving.

“Wouldn’t ya prefer a handmaiden?” Davos asked.

“No, thank you.” Y/N wondered when her cup got so empty. She was certain she was more than tipsy, so she pushed it aside. Even if she loved his visits, she’d rather not have Davos see her like this. He sat down next to her at the table and took her hand, and gods damn it all, she loved how warm it was.

It used to pain her how clueless she thought he was, but now Y/N was sure he was purposefully rebuffing her. The stark difference in status, the age gap, the matter of Stannis - whatever the excuse was, it just made Y/N’s mood even more gloomy.

“My lady, yer bein’ hard on yerself again. Ya had to know Renly wouldn’t listen. If he was reasonable, ya wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t have raised this army.”

Yes, a wonderful change in subject, back to her brother’s treason. Y/N sighed and leaned on Davos, unable to find the strength to keep herself sitting upright. She rested her head on his shoulder.

He was very solid for a man of his age. This was distracting.

“I practically raised him, you know, Stannis and I. He was a babe when our parents died.”

“Aye. And it was yer kindness keepin’ him alive in the siege.”

“Damned right.” Y/N was eyeing the empty goblet and the flagon that still had wine in it. “He was always a pompous little shite in the Red Keep, but this? This isn’t a game, there are Starks in the North, Lannisters in the West and East, and now he’s …” 

She sighed heavily, and after a moment of hesitation, Davos wrapped an arm around her. Y/N could have swooned if she wasn’t about to sway. 

“Princess, he’s made his decision. I know it hurts ya, but he’s not the boy ya knew. Ya said as much when ya were in the Red Keep. He’s his own person now.”

“My name is Y/N.”

“... Aye. There was no question of that.”

Y/N always liked the way he said her name. Maybe that was how her silly crush started, when she was younger. He sounded so different than anyone she’d ever talked to before. She didn’t understand why the other lords sneered about it under their breaths. ‘Talking low’, they said. Y/N could listen to it all day.

Or all night. She thought. That felt impossible now. Her dark mood wasn’t allowing any of her usual fantasties. 

“Ya had enough of this, m’lady.” Davos untangled himself from Y/N and moved the flagon further down the table. He pointedly ignored her grumbling protests.  “It won’t make anything better or change the situation.”

Y/N easily wiggled herself under his arm, pointedly putting it back where it was around her, and rested back against his shoulder. The tent was quiet now. Even if the sound of men walking and talking outside seemed too distant. 

“I like the way you say my name,” Y/N said suddenly. “I know there’s the titles and nonsense. But like this, I don’t want ‘princess’ or ‘my lady’.” 

She felt Davos’ shoulder shift under her, and he carefully touched her wrist. It was the sort of carefulness that Y/N didn’t want - less like she was fragile, more like she was dangerous. Off-limits.

“Y/N, it’s time for ya to lie down. Get some rest.”

She hated the sudden cold that struck her when he moved away and stood up. He did take her hand again, but it was only to help keep her steady. Y/N swayed and held on tight to his hand, easily fitting it into her own. Then he took her other hand, and she felt all the fingers press against her own. It wasn’t fair. 

Y/N didn’t catch what he was saying now, too lost in her own irritable, swirling thoughts. She pressed her head against his chest, where his heart beat through his dark wool tunic. He stopped in the middle of his sentence. 

“Davos,” She said. She felt those hands squeeze her own, and she prayed they wouldn’t let go. The only reason he should let go is to hold her. She hated the idea of him leaving this tent without holding her.

“Y/N, yer upset, and ya had too much wine. Yer gonna be miserable if ya don’t sleep.”

“I’m already miserable, damn it,” Y/N retorted, her misery and self-pity finally coming to a head. She pulled away from Davos’ hands and firmly wrapped her arms around him. “My brothers are going to kill each other and I just want you to hold me.”

She heard the sigh run through Davos’ chest, straight past his quick beating heart, and finally those warm arms wrapped around her. Y/N could die happy right here. She eagerly nuzzled into his embrace, marvelling at how solid and comfortable he felt.

The leather of his gloved hand was brushing across her bare arm, and Y/N felt more drunk than ever. “Stay,” She asked, feeling selfish and stupid, more like a spoiled girl than a grown woman. “Just for a while.”

But Davos had always spoiled her and let her be selfish, and he did the same now. She felt the hesitance as he ran his fingers through her long, soft hair that had long been yanked from their fancy style. 

“Y/N,” He said, his voice so close to her ear that she shivered. “Ya know we shouldn’t. We can’t.”

Y/N finally looked up at him. She shouldn’t have. His blue eyes were always her favorite, always full of humor and affection, just for her. There was all that, but much more. A distinct feeling of desire that Y/N wanted so badly it hurt.

“I’ve always been fond of you, Davos, and that isn’t the drink talking. You know I have.” Y/N spoke softly, but she couldn’t keep her feelings from spilling out as they pleased. “And - you feel the same, don’t you?”

Davos glanced aside, but he didn’t pull away, so that was something. “You and Stannis, yer both gonna be the death of me, Y/N. How am I supposed to stay no to my king and my princess, mm?”

“I’m first,” Y/N said, and the stubbornness made him laugh. Their foreheads pressed together for just a moment, then finally, their lips met.

Y/N loved it, her head spinning with feelings instead of drink. This may have sobered her up. His beard tickled her a little, and she couldn’t help but smile at that. When Davos broke their kiss, he pressed another one on her brow.

“There’s that smile. I missed it. Ya haven’t been doin’ much smiling since this started.”

It was nice to feel like a giddy girl, even with an army of knights and warhorses surrounding them outside the tent. She touched Davos’ face and brought him closer, liking how red his cheeks were in the warmth of the candlelight. Liking that it was her that caused such a boyish blush.

Before she could pull him into another eager kiss, Davos held her wrists. “Y/N, sweet, not anymore. I have to leave soon. I wanted to check on ya before I did.”

“Leave? Where are you going so late?”

Davos hesitated. “Stannis gave me a task. Can’t say more than that. Don’t wanna get ya in the middle of it.”

Y/N had plenty of questions about that, but this was the middle of a war. She’d find out eventually, so she kissed him before he pulled away. “This little task wouldn’t have to do with your former occupation, would it?”

“Yer too clever for yer own good. I’ll come back when it’s finished. Might take most of the night. We’ll talk more about this when we’re back, Y/N. I promise.”

She embraced him tightly then, feeling more secure than she had in months. “I’ll hold you to that promise, ser knight.”

She hated how bright and clear the sky was today. The setting sun was disappearing into the sea and the gentle waves reflected it beautifully. It almost disgusted Y/N that such a breathtaking sunset was preceding a horrible battle.

Her foot tapped the grass impatiently as she waited, but he finally arrived. While most of the men boarding the boats were stubbornly wearing their steel mail, Davos kept to his simple attire. She would bet he was a powerful swimmer, even now. Y/N left her shoes in the grass as she easily scampered to his arms.

He was still nervous about giving her affection anywhere that wasn’t a closed room, but the situation meant he was willing to indulge her. The indulgence almost made Y/N afraid. She recalled back when she confessed to him, how he gave into her so easily, then disappeared in the night. Nothing but chaos followed. Did he expect to die then, and was he expecting to die now?

“That’s not the sort of look I want to leave ya with,” Davos said, trying to humor her. He kissed the crown of her head, like he did when she was very young, then her cheeks, and now her lips. He was generous with his affection and Y/N eagerly soaked it up. The war wasn’t nearly over, and it was pulling at her. 

“I apologize, I gave all my proper looks to Stannis when I told him goodbye. You know how he is when I’m upset, and I know he’ll be successful.”

“You’ve said as much.” Davos kept his arms around her, and Y/N took up her favorite spot resting against him. “Your confidence has given the men a great deal of morale, princess. Especially the ones who don’t … believe everything they’ve been told to believe.”

“I’m so glad he isn’t bringing that witch.”

Her bluntness never failed to make Davos chuckle. He was glad she gave her brother an easy goodbye. The gods knew the two of them had their share of disagreements this past month. Anytime they were in the room together, he was distinctly reminded of two stags fighting in the woods.

“It means he still listens to you. He’ll need our honesty, Y/N.” 

Like always, Y/N was soft in his arms, and he could smell the flowers she used to wash her hair with. She didn’t perfume herself, he noticed, and the floral scent came from plants and herbs she gathered herself. She had thrown herself into this war effort, and had begun to trade her silks for simpler linens, and her jewels for food. 

Standing here in the sunset, with her hair in an easy braid and a flowing white linen dress framing her body, she looked more beautiful than he could have imagined. A princess in spirit and soul. He didn’t deserve her. 

“Now you’re the one leaving me with a look,” Y/N said, holding his face and making him look at her. “The battle will be won, Davos. My brother is a fine commander, and you’re a damned fine sailor. After tonight, the Red Keep will be under our control again, and it will all be over.” 

She looked tired as she said this, but Y/N had been saying it dozens of times to lords and soldiers. For her, it wasn’t a matter if they’d succeed. It was just which battle, and she’d been sitting in on every briefing for this one.

“Aye. If the princess says it, then so it will be,” Davos felt her hair through his fingers, the ones he didn’t need to hide under a glove, wanting to remember how soft she was. That same hand trailed down her back and touched her hips, which he had to admit he loved. Leave it to an old sailor to be thinking about love and desire instead of the battle just hours away.

The sun was reflecting on her eyes, too, highlighting all the love and sweetness she had just for him. She rarely spared lords second glances, and the courting had begun in earnest. The men Stannis had gathered could practically smell the throne in his hands, and Y/N was a direct connection to that.

“Kiss me,” Y/N said suddenly, impatiently, and he eagerly obliged her. She sighed against his lips and he held her close, feeling her curves through her dress and his own tunic. 

Y/N was the one to pull away first, but she stayed teasingly close. “Once this is over, I want to marry on the beach.” 

Davos didn’t expect that. He was usually confident in his words, but Y/N had a way of challenging his wit. “Is that so? I don’t know any lords that would be comfortable marrying around sand and salt.”

“No, but I know a knight who would.” Y/N grinned. It was fun to tease Davos like this, but Y/N was a woman of her word. If she told someone she would tear down the wall of Storm’s End one brick at a time, it would be done.

That was a blessing and a curse to his poor soul. “That’s somethin’ we’ll discuss later, love.”

“I’m discussing it now.” She leaned against him, and Davos fought to keep his hands from drifting too low. “We’ve shared our feelings, so I should give you a typical reason to return home to your lady, right? All the songs say a man who has a promise in his heart comes back safe.”

“Don’t those men usually die some poetic death? I don’t plan on that…”

“I agree, death is absolutely forbidden. You’ll be brought before your princess and punished for such a crime.”

“I think the King will have strong words for me, first.”

Y/N huffed. “Stannis can wait his turn.”

Her pouting turned to a delighted squeal as Davos lifted her up, feeling unusually youthful when he should have been facing the next few hours with a sullen determination. He carried her to the fallen tree she had made herself comfortable on before he arrived. 

Y/N eagerly pulled him back to her, all but crawling into his lap. “When’s the last time you were at King’s Landing, ser knight?”

“It’s been some years. Saw enough of it as a boy.” He was comfortable running his ruined hand up her leg, knowing it wouldn’t upset her. 

“You should show me where you grew up.”

“I’ll walk ya to Flea Bottom an’ point out a shack. It’ll be close enough.”

Her little laugh turned to a sigh as his hand went further up her dress. With little shame, Y/N straddled his lap. She peppered him with kisses as she said, “I want you back to me as soon as possible, Davos. I don’t care what state you’re in.” 

“Aye, love, I hear ya.” He kissed her neck, pulling a heavy sigh from Y/N as his rough lips and beard brushed against her skin. “I will.”

“Good.” She tossed some of her hair so he could get at her collarbone, and she was more than delighted when he did. The gods gave and took, Maester Cressen told her when she was a girl. It was not the place of humans to question that.

Y/N often questioned anyway, wondering why the gods delighted in taking what they pleased from her. Her parents, her brothers. Myrcella may have been far away, but Tommen would not be spared in the siege. At least, finally, they seemed content to give her this happiness, this love. She’d hold him tight while she had him.

[404fmdhaon]

creative claims verification — middle fingers up

summary: lyrics, composition and production for middle fingers up warnings: none wc: 1903 (not counting lyrics)

when he started music, it was only a fruitful thought. one that was wary with the times of boom bap saturated in the east coast — boarding school times, and he almost crafts himself a small wicked smile. nostalgia that pains his bones when he’s thinking to the shitty small room he was subjugated to, the speakers of his laptop bound to the sounds of biggie.

but he’s no biggie nor is he the second-coming of asap. he’s just haon, the sell-out from the sea of idoldom that’s got him whole. and where he’s alive becomes the sudden patterns of how music changes from one woe to the next — boom bap into trap, and he laughs at the incredulity of stepping into trap.

an explorer, a sole wanderer. he traps himself in the middle of the keys, pounding away one by one. they paint the picture to the time where he was nothing more than thirteen on the verge of puberty inside hannam-dong.

he starts with the progression of a chord, nothing too flashy nor showy. never been part of him when he’s only been a part of modesty and sulking behind the shadows of attention. it rises like the childhood keys, stripped away from the classical touches of beethoven and into the formative years of who he is now.

the first few regressions of the chord don’t sit easy. instead, they end the way they always do — the slams of his palms into a fucked up mash of notes he doesn’t know what to do with. he closes his eyes, and starts from base one, the one he’s always known. staccatos, and now he only rolls with the punches of what comes when he’s half dazed from sleep and his eyes bloodshot with the lack of sleep he doesn’t have.

and when he’s on what feels the hundredth time of something different, he lets it sit. plays it back — maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe it’s just the low standardization he’s fixed himself to, it clicks. seeps deep into the cracks of his soul where nothing soothes the deepened wounds that get buried under years upon year. imperfection, and it’s nothing short. nothing half-assed by the time he tries again and again. the last cut makes it, and he leaves the piano to something else — the instruments that don’t fail him when hands are against the tufts of hair balled up amidst frustration.

it sounds mismatched, mangled. (he doesn’t care.)

and he moves to percussion, the process that’s always been the status quo from one move to the next. there’s a charming point in trap, and he doesn’t fit the bill, slotting creativity into place when there’s the baseline of drums involved. 

his foot taps against the ground, confused in the off-match haze of differing rhythms. rather, he fixes himself with another swig of the iced coffee now melted in the corner of his desk — the brass adding another color to the track void of any lyrics. 

and he thinks to the time where he’s been the artist without any words. without any restraints freeing the built up frustration and animosity inside his soul — now, it’s only the beats of the piano mangled with the percussion hitting every other beat. but it doesn’t last long, no. not when he takes the latter part of the track and puzzles it to something new. revs up the drums for a hit of a party, something that breeds the excitement he no longer has.

he takes a listen, a playback — it sounds rudimentary at best. nothing complex until the bass hits, but some sort of charm escapes between each strike of chord, and leaves it ringing loudly inside the surface of his heart. his lips quirk back into a smile: minute satisfaction, and he collects it.

when inspiration strikes him in the middle of the fervor, he takes it. runs with it, and make does with what he can (sometimes it doesn’t last long, and it leaves his mind barren without time to collect the pieces once more. savor it while you can.)

what he starts off is the beginnings of a song, one he mismatches to the current state of affairs. because now, the mantra is clear: middle fingers up. 

the first three words sprawl across the page, and he capitalizes it. makes it bold. loud and clear as the blueprint to navigate each and every lapse of time that passes. instructions, he wants to send out to the world plagued by second-hand guesses, and the constant battering of what others think — they should stop, and so should he.

he adds in the jingle, humming to the tune the playful childhood fable-esque melody. it’s morbid at best, the juxtaposition of the lighthearted tune ridden by the resenting animosity he hangs to his chest. the feeling never goes away, no. not when he wishes for it, turning and tossing inside late night sleeplessness. there’s no sleep in seoul, so be it.

middle fingers up thumb, index finger, ring finger, pinky fold them and lift your middle finger up raise it, twirl it, play with them now just eat this, fucking eat it.

what his mind jumps to next, all tongue-and-cheek spurred by the sudden enjoyment that music sparks in him. god, when was this feeling last felt? he couldn’t tell you. all that he knows is that euphoric highs from the fun of writing a verse becomes insurmountable to any fleeting joy of here and there. the affairs of the company — shit. the affairs of his own personal life — shit. business comes in brushed shoulders, mediocre handshakes in coy smiles yearning for a hidden meaning. gyujeong tries to decipher each one as a sham, name-calling to yank their strings into place for a climb up the ladder of the fame that trails eight years and counting.

the conversation becomes a humorous one — painted in cheap laughs and even cheaper innuendos. get the number, and call it a roadmap for the tempest tides for five minutes of famed. gyujeong makes his answer clear: why? he’s never been second-dipped inside the tides pulling him from one hot name to the next, his name clear in the headlines only fuel to add onto the taste of an image bc’s crafted for him. laughter. it spills from his lips.

what did you just say kid? we’ve met before, you say what — no we haven’t. i’m close with your friend. so what? you ask, can you give me your number so we can have a drink together sometime? but why should i give you my number? who the hell are you?

he doesn’t know them, they don’t know him. the feeling’s not mutual, shit if it’s ever been. it’d be a lie, and his lips tainted with poison if he gives in to the facades of each soul that wants to reap the benefits without climbing down the wayward journey all the way up — nothing’s all the way up. not then, not now. (has it ever been?)

collective thoughts and privacy becomes uncertain, rare. something treasured and pocketed away to the confines of his own bare bones. he craves one thing: anonymity. that sort of shit becomes priceless halfway through an aged careers — his private matters stowed away, picking up the specks as time passes for he’s never begged for more. the circle around shrinks as the years go, half-hearted smiles burned to the ground as he loses more and more of the dignity scraped away by the schedules and people he’s brushed shoulders with.

he likes it that way. likes two real friends rather than a cesspool of empty hearts and laughs that bear nothing more than the coins clinking into their bank — no more drama. no more stories. no more shit to put up with when he doesn’t become the victim of everyone’s embittered war.

talk, alarms, lock, sns are all on private my ever-shrinking personal and social relations it ain’t nothing. no more meet-ups with people, no more stories no more drama, just straight to the last episode

and if they want to catch him, they better while they can. he’s sure to slide past the void of their fingers clasped against each other and chung gyujeong stands from the other side in a cocked grin waiting at the top with the answer to their question he can’t give them an answer to. then again, when has he ever conveyed an answer to their dead-end questions, nor spared any time to give in to the temporary pains of a broken timepiece. genuineness is lost in the world — lost when he’s tethered to bc.

follow me until you reach the climax what’s real? what’s fake? i don’t know.

the fingers type away the verse — he makes note of a few things (repeat the chorus, italics of the chorus. the references, flipped and mashed back together for a coy play on words.) trust the creative process, and he’s floating along on the surface. tides turn into ripples, and suddenly — he’s left grinning ear to ear, smiling away with the middle fingers up.

when he returns to the studio, it’s the same way he’s left it. the bucket of laundry loaded in a corner, growing higher and higher by the day. the emptied out plastic cups, all lined perfectly across his desk with the screen blinking and the sounds of the desktop still running on edge with his lapse in judgement to shut it off the few days prior.

today, he has help — no big help, just the trusted staff in the room as his fingers motion forth to enter the dungeon he’s been subjected to for the past few years. gyujeong motions once more: take a seat, make yourself feel at home. it’s written in silent gestures, and he steps forward to the recording booth with his headphones sliding over his ears (this feels comforting, like second=nature.)

the staff involved today serves no input, no help. no standardized comment of what sells nor what’s written in the outlines of bc’s expectations. instead, it’s another set of hands — another set of fingers to press buttons when he knows the booth provides the pristine sound he wants to collect for the alibi of the song. a crystal clear voice, no longer stumped by the background noise fiddling out from the lack of soundproofing. here, he’s able to relay the lullaby he writes for the masses encroaching deeper into dangerous territory. 

it starts with the chorus, the starting of the song. his hand waves past the recording glass, signaling the start of recording as the beat plays in the background — his phone’s already snug in the other, posed in front of him with the lyrics loud and clear.

and it’s his voice that relays the rest. gritty, slurred. no real pronunciation when it poses itself as a near whine — nearly flirtatious it takes when he hears the playback. (he guesses, it’s the effect of having fun with music again). there’s no idea how this will progress, no expectations then again. so, he continues on when the beat plays and he starts the verses — it toys. plays into the push-pull of lilting his voice in a mediocre taunt.

an ode, disguised as a taunt. or flipped and reversed, he still doesn’t know.

still doesn’t get it by the time he’s back after a full-stomach, leaning back into his chair. no more clicks nor a staff to help, it’s him against the computer screen pulling and yanking different filters with the snaps of the mouse. the vocal stabilizes, little need to refine and tune the voice into key. he adds in extra embellishments, things he’d never use as a play into the new break. when has he become the nomad adventuring out into unknown territory? he couldn’t tell you, only knows the high-tide fun that comes from horns and alterations buzzing out the verses then into the chorus. the movement, and piecing together of a complete piece.

here, there’s no missing pieces. just a full track that checks off satisfaction.

[sadlittlenerdking]

There’s This Idiot

The Magicians, Quentin x Eliot

Word count: 2,476

Summary: I fucking felt bad about that angst af drabble I wrote earlier so here have some crackish fluff where Eliot’s the oblivious idiot. (You may wanna read that before this bc this makes up for that and you won’t be sad if you read in that order. But if you read this then that, you’re gonna be sad)

Quentin doesn’t even remember falling asleep in the nook. But here he is, waking up, curled in on himself, with both of the sliding doors shut almost all the way. For a moment, he’s confused, mouth smacking together with sleep and thirst. He’s not sure what wakes up him up, but there’s a soft hum of voices beyond the doors. For a moment, he’s tempted to push them up and reveal himself, but the familiar sounds of Eliot and Margo’s laughing, followed by Todd’s disgruntled, confused grumbling, stays him for a moment.

He sits up, book three of Fillory and Further falling off him stomach and landing on the cushion behind him with a soft plop. He freezes, thinking it’ll alert them to his presence, but nobody comes forward to rip the doors open and call him out for spying on them. 

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Margo asks after a few long minutes of nothing but the sound of Quentin’s guilty breathing, and of ice being jostled around in a glass - presumably Eliot’s cocktail of the hour. 

He can hear Eliot’s long exhale, probably a cigarette. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He responds, sounding a bit to suave, even for Eliot. Quentin resists a smile, as he scoots a bit closer to the nook doors, carefully to keep himself steady and to not crash against them. The last thing he needs to do is lose his only friends because a fresh round of paranoia and the urge to eavesdrop and make sure they don’t secretly hate him has decided to rear it’s head. 

“About Quentin.” 

Quentin’s heart drops. Because of course. They’re trying to figure out how to let him down easily. For once the depression induced paranoia hit the nail on the head. If he were still going to a therapist, this would be one of those things he’d opt to not mention. Admitting defeat to depression, is not exactly something that would keep him from immediate readmission. 

“Ah, this again?” Eliot murmurs, so soft Quentin almost can’t hear him. “You’ve really got to let this subject go, Bambi.” 

“I can’t when you’re mooning after him like some sad, sick, little lost lamb.” 

Wait - what?

“I am not mooning -,”

“Fine,” Margo amends, “Not mooning . . . pining? Longing? Oh, maybe yearning? No, no . . . you’re right. Achingly watching from a distance is probably more accurate.” 

Eliot huffs. “You’re obsessed.” 

“Only when I’m right.” 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, drinking, smoking, probably cuddling on the couch like they alway do. And Quentin’s about to try and go back to sleep, when Eliot says, “What if you are? He’s straight.” 

She scoffs. “Please. That boy is more bi than a bicycle at a tricycle convention.” 

Quentin nods to himself, she’s not exactly wrong. He’s always been attracted to whoever he’s attracted to - no specifications, no prerequisites, no anything - just whoever makes him feel alive. And, Alice may have been the first person he confessed his interest in, but she’s by far not the only one. Or the main one. He’s just always assumed Eliot would never, in a million years look his way as more than the poor, little sad first year he took under his wing. 

And Quentin does have feelings for Alice, but they had their thing at Brakebills, and everything fizzled out after the scent of the fox wore off and they realized they’re better off as friends. 

But, he has a strong, overwhelming feeling that what he feels for Eliot, as strong and annoyingly profound as it is, isn’t going anywhere. He’s just always assumed it’s this one sided stupid little crush. Because Eliot is, well, Eliot, and Quentin is so resolutely not. 

“What makes -,”

“Honey,” Something gets set down on the coffee table, “He’s bi. Make your move already.” 

“I don’t want to scare him off.” 

Maybe six months ago an advance from Eliot would have sent Quentin running in the opposite direction, desperate to believe that this is some cruel prank, okay, maybe even six minutes ago - but that’s not his fault. He knows Eliot now. Knows what makes him tick. Knows when he’s about to fall apart, and wha to say to keep him from falling over the edge. Knows just where to press into his shoulders to relax him. Knows his drink of choice, and how exactly to prepare it to get that proud grin after a first sip. 

“El -,” 

“I’m going to bed.” 

“It’s only 2am,” Margo argues, but Quentin can hear the rustling of fabric as they both get up, “It’s too early.” 

“It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. You can either join me, or go find someone else to cuddle up with.” 

Margo sighs. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Quentin hears one of them kiss the other, and then they’re walking up the stairs, and the lights turn off, leaving Quentin alone in the nook with his books, and his thoughts. 

And, jesus, he has a lot of thoughts.

Though, for once they’re not circling around in this disgusting circle of self hate and paranoia, because he has something else to focus on: 

Telling Eliot just how god damn, magically bi he is. 

* 

Of course it all goes terribly, terribly wrong. 

Because Margo is watching him, and Eliot’s avoiding him, and it’s this whole big stupid game of cat and mouse, where for the first god damn time in his life Quentin is somehow simultaneously the cat and the mouse. He spends half the day trying to track Eliot down, but every time he even gets near, Margo’s pulling him aside for fashion advice, or to look at this new spell she learned, or ‘How should I do my hair for tomorrow’s party? I don’t need you to tell me if I look good, just tell me which one looks better. Be honest, pumpkin. Or I will curse you.’ 

And, look, Quentin’s a relatively calm, collected guy, but fuck if he doesn’t get to kiss Eliot, or something, by the end of the day, he’s going to lose his fucking mind. Because he has been fantasizing about this for months, and after spending all that time thinking it’s nothing more than a fantasy, only to learn, hey we could have been making out this whole time - he’s got some time to make up for. 

A lot of time.

Because if he’s at all honest with himself, he would’ve jumped Eliot that first day if not for the obvious wonder at magic being real, Eliot being so blatantly out of his league, and did Quentin mention magic? 

When Penny appears in the cottage, bored and uninterested, Quentin tries so desperately not to think about it. But apparently focusing on not thinking about it makes him forget to focus on his wards, and suddenly Penny’s tilt his head and turning to him with an evil little smirk, and Eliot’s not even at the cottage, and Quentin wants to fucking die.

“Oh really?” Penny asks, slow and evil because he’s an evil bastard and Quentin hates him. 

Margo looks up from her magazine, waves a hand, “What’s happening here?” She asks, glaring up at Penny. “You two aren’t fucking are you?” Suddenly, she snaps the magazine shut and sits up straight, turning her glare on Quentin. “Are you?” 

Penny scoffs. “Not even in his wildest dreams.”Quentin tilts his head, starts thinking the lyrics to Taylor Swifts Wildest Dreams as loud as he possibly can until Penny growls, sneering at him. “If you know what’s best for you -,”

He stops midlyric, thinks at him, ‘Make her leave me alone long enough to find Eliot, and I’ll spend as long as it takes getting extra tutoring on my wards.’ Penny narrows his eyes, before nodding quick and short. “Actually,” He says turning on his heel and smirking at Margo. “I’m here for you.” 

Margo’s eyebrow perks in interest. “For me.” 

Penny nods. “Eliot’s not around is he?” 

She rolls her eyes, waving a flippant hand, “No. He’s studying like a nerd in the library. No amount nipple clamps can save him from an oral exam.” She shrugs a shoulder, placing her hands on her hips, “Apparently it’s not the fun kind of oral exam either.” 

Pen closes his eyes for a moment, clearly trying to avoid saying something dickish. “That’s . . . great. I guess.” He sighs, “Look. Let’s go out.” 

Quentin takes the moment shock runs across her face in every variation as his opportunity to sneak out of the cottage to go find Eliot. He tosses a soft thanks to the thought void, hoping Penny catches it, and starts running across campus. 

When he finds himself standing in front of Eliot’s table, he’s surprised to find he’s not lost his courage. His breath, from running all the way across campus, absolutely. His general overall decent composure, yeah that’s gone.

But hey, he’s got his courage. And a load of sweat pouring down his neck and back. That’s a great image for Eliot to look up and a see; a red faced, sweaty Quentin, grinning ear to ear like an idiot. A confused, soppy, courageous idiot. 

And the look on Eliot’s face is enough tos ay he thinks the same. His eyes track down Quentin’s body, taking in the mess that he is, before he sets his pencil down, leans one forearm against the top of the table, and looks up at him curiously. “Dare I even ask?” 

And Quentin takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his very wet, sweaty hair and nods. “Yeah. You should ask.” 

Quentin waves the hand that isn’t on the table in a go on motion. “Okay. Consider this me asking. What the fuck?”

Quentin nods, turning to his left and starting to pace as he wrings his hands in front of him. “See it all started last night, this morning, whatever,” He looks at him, “It was while the sun was down and the moon was up, technically night but also considered day. Anyways,” He waves one of his hands, looking ahead of him as he continues pacing, “I found out this guy I like likes me. Which, wow, kind of a big deal, right?” He looks at Eliot, chewing on his lip with a frantic nod to himself, but he doesn’t wait for a response. “Then today, I’m like, I have this whole big plan where I’m going to go all ‘surprise you’re an idiot I’m bi! Tada!’ But of course,” He stops to raise a finger to the sky, making a face, “Of fucking course!

“This guy chooses today of all days to avoid me.” He lets his eyes slide over to Eliot for a moment. He’s sat up straight, arms crossed over his chest, a look of mild curiosity on his face as he watches Quentin pace back and forth. “Which - I can deal with that. I can find a way to fix that. Avoidence is my specialty, I can trick people out of not avoiding me if I have to. But no. This guy, this stupid, amazing guy, he has his best friend try and distract me because he knows,” He stops pacing, turning to glare at Eliot, “He knows! I’ll come looking for him. But whatever. It’s fine. 

“So, I spend all day trying to sneak away from this amazing guys best friend, who is also amazing, by the way. I love her to bits. Beside the point, though. In order to escape the grasp of her dangerously sharp claw nails, I have to strike a deal with the devil!”

“The devil?” Eliot nods to himself, his lips twitching as he tries to fight off a smile. “Steep odds for a guy.”

“I know!” Quentin exclaims, “But the devil agrees to help, and I finally - finally - get away from this guys best friend. And I have to run all the way across campus, under the blazing sun in a fucking sweatshirt and jeans because I didn’t think to change, because all I could focus on was finally getting to kiss this stupid, stupid man. So I get there, I finally get there, and he’s actually studying - like, genuinely reading a book to avoid me. Which is frustrating. But then I realize I’m all sweaty and angry and sexually frustrated amongst other things - just as he looks up at me.” He pauses to breathing, heaving in a big breath as Eliot watches him carefully. “And the only thing this stupid man seems capable of doing is staring at me!” 

Eliot nods, pushing his chair back and standing up so Quentin has to look up at him as he slowly rounds the table. Quentin takes a small step back with every step forward Eliot takes, until his back bumps up against a shelf of books. “So, let me see if I got this right,” Eliot murmurs, swiping his index finger overtop the table as he passes it. “You’re not straight. You’re desperate to get fucked. And you’re in love with some oblivious asshole who just doesn’t appreciate all you’ve been through today? Is that about the jist?” 

He swallows as Eliot stops just a few inches away from him. “ S-Sounds about right.” 

Eliot hums, closing the space between them, his hand coming up to cup the back of Quentin’s neck. He doesn’t even make a face at the dampness there, just smiles down at him. “So, say this apparently attractive idiot were to make it up to you. How would he go about doing that?” 

Quentin shrugs, leaning into Eliot’s touch. “I mean. A good place to start would be a kiss . . . I can’t think of anywhere to end.” 

Smirking, Eliot leans down to whisper in his ear, “Oh, Q, I can think of so many places to end.” And then he moves around and presses his lips against Quentins, and jesus christ it’s so much more than any of the stupid, pointless, never going to ever seem good enough again fantasies. 

And then when Eliot’s tongue sweeps across the seam of Quentin’s lips, he swears he see’s a glimpse of god in the distance giving him a thumbs up. 

“Thank fuck,” He murmurs against Eliot’s mouth.

Eliot pulls away, looks down at him, one of his thumbs coming up to sweep along Quentin’s cheek, along his jaw line, “Oh, Q.” He says, soft, “We’ll get there, just not yet.” He smirks before leaning back in, pulling Quentin’s body taut against his own as they crash into the bookshelf behind them.

Quentin doesn’t even feel the spine of the books jabbing into his spine he’s so fucking happy. Sweaty and happy. 

[rileysluke]

can i be him ✗ part six

A/N: hey guys! this was supposed to be posted a wHILE ago but here i am forever delaying everything. this chapter is pretty long & a LOT of shit goes down in here. i hope you guys enjoyed it & hate james as much as i do! if there are any mistakes in here, please do let me know bc i felt like i’ve read this over 19843 times and can’t tell at this point lol Words: 5,332 words Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

As each day grew closer to Maya's Christmas Party, Lucas grew more anxious. He kept thinking about Riley and how he was doing an injustice to her by not telling her about James. He was sure that James would be at the party, clearly bound to run into him at some point after their little meeting at the pub.

Thankfully the week had been slow in regards to fires and accidents so the team wasn't needed as much as they usually are which gave him time to shop for Christmas. As much he detested shopping (online shopping was just so much easier), he had no choice but bear with the horrendous idea of holiday gift shopping.

Whenever he walked into any store, Riley came to mind. He was in the middle of a heated debate with himself, wondering if he should get her anything for Christmas and if it would be deemed inappropriate considering she was in a relationship. But when he spotted a necklace, so simple yet beautiful, he couldn’t think of anyone else adorning it except for her. Her dimply smile and twinkling eyes come to mind and he couldn’t help but letting his lips curl into a small grin at the thought. Regardless of James being who he was for her, he found himself purchasing it for her anyways.

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

“So, James and Lucas under one roof, hm?” Maya begins, a light smirk tugging at the ends of her lips.

The three girls were in the middle of decorating Maya’s apartment for the Christmas party which was only less than 24 hours away. If it wasn’t for Riley’s pestering and desire to decorate, the blonde probably would’ve continued procrastinating. 

“Yes, so? I thought they’d be able to get along,” Riley explains as a matter-of-factly, dropping the box of fake snow.

Isadora and Maya stop what they’re doing and look at each other before breaking into laughter, finding their friend’s comment incredibly hilarious.

Just then, Josh walked in through the front door of the apartment, “Hey girls. What’s going on?”

“We’re just vicariously living through Riley’s exciting love life,” Maya explains, playfully shooting him a implicative look.

Josh rolls his eyes as he holds back a grin, “While you do that, I’m gonna take a nap.” He gives the girls a quick wave before making his way into his room.

Maya sticks her tongue out at him as he walks away while her friends smile at their silliness. Once the door clicks shut, she lets her shoulders slump and lets out a frustrated groan. “That man is making me crazy!” She whisper shouts as she throws her hands in the air.

When noticing the exaggeration in her behavior, Isadora looks at her with her brows quirked. “You guys have clearly been rubbing off on each other,” She points out.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Riley says, grinning proudly as she side-hugs her shorter friend.

“Right?” Maya grins, hugging her back. “Speaking of bad, I’ll be right back.” With that, she scurried into her bedroom, closing the door shut behind her.

Isadora and Riley look at each other with distorted features, very much aware what was probably happening behind closed doors. 

“I don’t think I can ever get used to that,” Riley says with a shake of her head making the other girl laugh.

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

It’s finally the day of the oh-so-anticipated Christmas Party at Maya and Josh’s apartment. The girls had finally stopped procrastinating and decorated the entire place with Christmas related decor-- everything from twinkling lights to mistletoes.

It had been fifteen minutes since Riley had arrived with James. She wore a beige off-the-shoulder dress with laced sleeves, flaring out above her knees to give it a flow-y feel. Though she was standing besides her boyfriend, her eyes kept searching for her a certain pair of emerald green eyes to meet her yearning ones. When she met Maya’s piercing blue ones who was currently signaling her to come over, she tells James she’d be back in a bit before heading off in her direction.

“So, you excited?” Maya asks, a small smirk playing across her lips.

“Uh, for what?”

“Um, for your hunky fireman?”

“Shh!” Riley’s eyes widen as she looks around to see if anyone heard her. “Are you crazy?”

“Do we really wanna go there right now?”

“You realize I’m still with James, right?”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Maya, please,” Riley pleads, almost wishing she had never told her about Lucas.

“Okay, fine. I’m just saying, it’s so obvious you find him attractive.”

“Yeah, but who doesn’t? Don’t you?”

Maya looks bewildered by her question, “Uh, no. I have Josh.”

Riley takes a deep breath before sighing inwardly. “Whatever I feel for Lucas, will go away. James has been great, I have no reason to walk away from him when he’s making me so happy right now.”

The blonde nods thoughtfully, though she knew this would all come tumbling down when James broke out of the little façade he had going on. A small grin tugs at the ends of her lips when she sees Josh open the door, letting Lucas and and Zay walk in through the front door. “You wanna say that again?”

Riley follows Maya’s gaze, turning to look over her shoulder. Her almond colored hues meet Lucas’ green ones and she totally ignores the way her chest tightens.

There’s a hint of a smile playing across his lips when he spots her, and she couldn’t help but smile slowly. When she realizes what she’s doing, she whips her head back to face Maya, “I need a drink. Or ten.”

After pouring herself a half-glass of white wine, she takes a long sip. “Why do I feel like I brought my mistress to this thing?”

A laugh escapes the blonde’s lips, “You’re not doing anything wrong, okay? Just relax. C’mon, let’s go say hi.”

The two girls make their way over the trio who seemed to be laughing amongst themselves.

“Hey guys, what’s going on here?”

Josh slips his arm around her shoulders, “Well, Mr.Archibald was just telling me about how you guys met.”

Riley’s mouth falls open as she turns to look at a chuckling Lucas, “I thought you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“It wasn’t me! It was Zay.”

Zay smiles cheekily as he nods in affirmation. “Not even gonna lie, it was me.”

“And here I thought we were friends,” Riley pretends to be upset as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“We are, biscuit. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. Don’t be too mad at me, now.”

Smiling, she rolls her eyes. “I’ll try not to, Zay. I’m glad you guys could make it,” She says, her gaze flickering to Lucas who was already looking at her.

“We wouldn’t have missed it. Thanks for inviting us,” Lucas says with a small grin.

Riley’s about to respond until she hears James call her name. She glances back at her boyfriend to acknowledge him before turning back to look at the two men. “Oh, which reminds me. I wanted to introduce you guys to my boyfriend.”

When she turns on her heel, Zay and Lucas share stern looks which definitely did not go unnoticed by Maya. Nonetheless, they follow the brunette to the awaiting arms of her boyfriend.

James drops a kiss on Riley’s cheek when she reaches him, his arm slipping around her slim waist. “Who were you...?”

She smiles up at him, turning in his arm to face the others. And before he could even ask her what she was up to, she speaks up. “I wanted to introduce you the people who basically saved my life a few weeks ago.”

James loses all color in his face, his smile faltering at the sight of the two men.

“James,” Lucas greets with a slight nod.

“Oh hey James,” Zay greets with a bit more pep in his voice than his friend. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Lucas, Zay. Long time no see.”

Riley looks at Josh and Maya who seem just as surprised as she does by this revelation. Her gaze flickers between the three men, unsure of how to even word her emotions. “Uh, you guys know each other?” She asks, her brows furrowing slightly when she feels James tense beside her.

“We go way back, don’t we James?” Lucas asks, smiling tightly.

“Yeah. We were on the same team a few years ago.”

“… As in, you were a firefighter?” Riley looks at him, clearly surprised by the news. “How come you never told me?”

“It’s not that important,” James attempts to push the matter off.

“What do you mean, man? You used to save lives for a living,” Zay points out.

James glowers at him briefly, before taking a quick moment to compose himself. “Yeah, well it’s in the past now.”

There was undeniable tension between the three and Riley felt like she was suffocating. With the way James was acting, it seemed like he was hiding something and she had no idea why. Not once had he mentioned anything about his past. With that thought in mind, she took tipped the entire glass of wine into her mouth and downed the entire glass. “Let’s get a drink?” She asks Maya breathlessly, wincing slightly at the bittersweet taste lingering on her tongue.

Maya nods silently, taking her best friend’s hand and leading her over to Farkle and Isadora who were standing by the makeshift bar.

“I have my eyes on you,” Josh tells James, making sure to put it out there that his evasiveness on the subject put him in a compromising position.

Once Josh leaves to tend to a few of the other guests, James shoots Lucas and Zay daggers.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” He spits out.

“You’re cheating on Riley—“ Lucas begins but when James shushes him, he halts in the midst of his sentence and raises a brow.

“No I am not. I ended it with that other girl, alright?”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” Zay asks, raising a brow.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you guys. Just keep your goddamn mouths shut, alright?” James raises his brows, looking at both of them.

“And if we don’t?” Lucas challenges him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I might just think you like my girlfriend more than you should. Stay the fuck away,” James tells him before walking in the opposite direction.

Lucas clenches his jaw and is about to go after him until Zay stops him.

“Yo, it ain’t worth it. Let’s get a drink.”

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

The group of friends watched the silent exchange of words from afar and Riley was almost positive she was going to have a heart attack.

“Do you have some sort of fetish?” Farkle asks, brows furrowed as if he’s trying to figure out some scientific equation.

“What?!” Riley blurts, clearly weirded out by the question.

“Well I suppose he says this because James was a firefighter and now Lucas is a firefighter so there must be some sort of correlation,” Isadora explains.

“… No, I don’t have a fetish,” Riley deadpans, pulling a stray curl behind her ear. “What am I supposed to do now? I feel like James is hiding something from me. Why wouldn’t he tell me that?”

“Well to tell you the truth Riles, none of us like him all that much. So we wouldn’t be surprised if he was hiding something from you,” Maya tells her.

“I have a bad feeling about tonight and it’s only been like an hour,” Riley tells them solemnly, pouring herself another glass of wine. “I’m gonna go find James.”

While Riley was with James, Maya scanned the room for the other two firefighters. When she does, she signals towards them. “Let’s go find out what James is hiding.”

Grabbing two bottles of beer, the small group of friends head towards Lucas and Zay who were whispering amongst themselves.

“Are we being ambushed?” Zay asks, when he spots them walking over.

Farkle offers them the bottle of beers. “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Farkle. Isadora’s husband and a friend of Riley’s.”

“We figured. I’m Zay and this is Lucas.”

“So, I’m assuming you guys are here to know more about James?” Lucas asks, raising a brow in Maya’s direction since she was the only one there.

“Wow, you’re smart for a fireman,” She tells him.

“What a double standard!” Zay exclaims before taking a swig of his beer.

“Honestly, I don’t know if it’s our place to tell. But, I’m not really fond of the guy.”

“Is it because you have feelings for my best friend or he’s a douchebag?”

As soon as the words slip past her lips, Lucas almost chokes mid-swig. Coughing into his fist, he blinks a few times, bringing himself back to reality. “I’m sorry, what?” He rasps.

“You heard me, Fire….boy,” Maya says lamely, taking a sip of her wine defiantly.

Lucas pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering over in Riley’s direction who was currently with James, her hand resting on his cheek as if trying to console him. With a sigh, he takes a gulp of the beer before responding. “I guess you can say both.”

Maya’s eyes light up as she looks at Isadora who looks as equally as thrilled about this. “I knew it!”

“Are you going to tell us about why you hate James?”

“James, Lucas, and I were on the same team. He was a firefighter too but he got kicked off the team when he was caught sleeping with the chief’s wife.”

The three were stunned into silence, not expecting that.

“No wonder he doesn’t want Riley to know,” Farkle notes, shaking his head.

“He already has such a horrible track record that this just proves how horrible he truly is,” Isadora says with a small sigh.

“Trust me, we know,” Lucas says dryly before taking another swig of his beer.

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

“Babe, just talk to me. What happened back there?” Riley asks, resting her hand on his cheek.

He sighs, “Nothing. It’s just we don’t get along.”

“Why?”

James takes a moment to himself before meeting her concerned gaze. “I didn’t wanna tell you this but… Lucas was sleeping with the chief’s wife and when I caught him—I confronted him about it. But he turned on me and spread some rumor about me sleeping with his wife and I ended up getting kicked off the team.”

Riley’s hand slips from his face as she could feel her heart sinking to the bottom of her stomach, “W-What?”

“Yeah. That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you… It was a bad time in my life,” He says, letting his head fall into his hands.

Her heart was hammering against her chest, a deep frown tugging at the ends of her lips. When her gaze flickers across the room to look at the man in question, she couldn’t help but feel as if something was off.

Lifting his head, he looks at her. “I want you to stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

When James speaks up again, she quickly averts her gaze. “Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“You don’t believe me?” He raises a brow, clearly offended.

“I’m just saying.. Maybe there was some sort of miscommunication. Lucas doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that.”

“How long have you even known this kid for? And you’re going to take his side over mine?”

“I’m not taking sides, James! I’m just saying, from what I know-- I don’t think he would do that.”

“And so what, you fucking think I would?” He snaps, looking at her incredulously.

“James,” She chides, taken aback by how quickly he became angry over this.

“What, Riley? How do you want me to act right now? You barely know this guy. I’m opening up to you about my past and you’re not even gonna believe me? I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him!” He retorts before rising from the couch.

“I didn’t even say that--” When she sees him get up, she follows suit. “Where are you going?” She asks, reaching out for him.

“I need some air,” He states, ignoring her touch as he storms out onto the balcony.

She wasn’t sure if the alcohol had heightened her senses but as soon as he left the apartment, she felt like bursting into tears. Closing her eyes, she takes in a deep sigh in attempt to compose her overwhelming emotions.

When she feels a hand rest on her shoulder, she jumps in surprise. Blinking away any sign of tears, she turns around to find Josh standing there. “Oh, hey.”

“Are you okay? What the hell just happened?”

“You saw that?” She laughs dryly, shaking her head.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to keep an eye out for you? You’re my niece, Riles.” He wraps his arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. “What the hell did he say?”

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

“What’s going on over there?” Zay points out, signaling towards Josh and Riley.

When Maya sees the two, her brows furrow in worry. “I’ll find out.” Making her way over to the two, she quickly scans the apartment to see where James had gone. On her way over, she notices a phone on the side table pushed against the wall. There was a picture of Riley and James on the background so she figured it was her friend’s phone. Grabbing it for her, she continues to make her way over. “Is everything okay?”

The two pull away and Riley just shrugs. “I don’t know? James just said something really weird and... I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.”

“What was it?”

“... He said Lucas framed him for sleeping with the chief’s wife even though it was actually Lucas who slept with her,” She reveals tentatively, the words sounding strange on her own tongue.

Maya looks at Josh and then at Riley before letting out a laugh, “Oh my God. I’m gonna kill him-- Riles, he’s lying to you.”

“What...?”

“Lucas and Zay just told us how James was kicked off the team because he was the one who slept with the chief’s wife.”

Riley felt like her head was going to explode, “... They told you that?”

“Yes, honey. They did. Even though I haven’t known those two for that long, I’d believe them over James any day.”

“Why would he lie to me though?”

As if on cue, the phone in Maya’s hands began to ring and so she offers it to Riley. “You left your phone back there by the way.”

“That’s not mine. That’s James’ phone,” She tells her, taking it from her friend’s hands. When she notices the familiar girl’s name flashing on the screen like it has so many times before this, she does the unthinkable and picks it up this time.

“Babe, when are you leaving that girl’s party and coming over? You said you’d only be going be at that stupid thing for an hour and it’s been much longer.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Riley asks, her heart hammering against her chest. There’s a moment of silence on the other line before a condescending laugh is heard. 

“Oh, you must be Riley. I guess there’s no better time like now-- I’m Lexie. James hasn’t told you this but he’s been cheating on you with me for like... ever. I should also tell you that I’m pregnant with his kid. I honestly have been waiting for him to end it with you and honestly don’t feel like waiting till New Year’s for this shit to happen. So how about you disappear, thanks. Also, you can go through our texts if you don’t believe me.”

Before she’s even able to say anything, ‘Lexie’ hangs up on her. Within seconds, she’s texting James’ phone with pictures of her. So of course, Riley opens up the chat to see multiple pictures of James kissing some blonde. 

When she notice Riley’s hands are shaking, Maya grabs her hands. “Riles, who was that? What happen?”

“Riles, are you okay?” Josh asks before leaning over to see what she saw on his phone. Clenching his fists at the sight, he shook his head. “He’s dead.”

Without saying anything, her grip on her phone tightens and she strides towards the open doors of the balcony. Once she makes her way outside, she closes the doors shut for some privacy.

As soon as the group of friends see Riley go outside, they go over to Maya and Josh to find out what happen.

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

“James. We need to talk,” She says, doing her best to remain as composed as possible.

There were a few empty beer bottles beside him so it was safe to say that he could be drunk. But she didn’t care, she was done having him disrespect her to the extent that he had.

“Y-yeah... We definitely need to talk,” He begins, turning to look at her. “About the way I acted in there.. I’m sorry, R-Riley... I just-- I just wish you trusted me... He’s the one who’s wrong...”

“I’m not here to talk about that. Were you ever gonna tell me about Lexie?” She asks, lifting his phone to show him a picture of them kissing in bed.

He straightens slightly, as if the name had sobered him. “What?”

“The girl you’ve been cheating on me with called and I happened to pick up. She told me everything about how you’ve been cheating on me and how you got her pregnant. To prove her point, she even sent pictures of you guys in bed...” Her voice begins to break but she refuses to let herself break in front of him.

He grabs his phone to inspect the picture. “What are you talking about? This must be photoshopped or something... You’re doing this on purpose to ruin what we have!” He exclaims, stumbling over to her. 

“Are you crazy? Why would I do this?”

“Who told you this bullshit, Lucas?”

“What does Lucas have to do with you cheating on me, James? Just admit what you did! There’s no point in lying so for once, just tell me the goddamn truth. Please. Don’t I deserve that much?”

“I didn’t cheat on you, Riley.”

Riley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Out of all the ridiculous things she’d heard tonight, this must’ve been the worst. She laughs through her tears, shaking her head. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you.”

He makes his way over to her, grabbing her arms, rougher than usual. “Riley, you have to believe me. Lucas set me up-- he’s doing this on purpose because he has feelings for you.”

She scrunches her nose from the strong stench of alcohol exhuming off of him, her hands pushing against his chest to create some distance. “James, get off of me!”

“My love for you is real!” He slurs before sloppily pushing his lips against hers as if it was going to change the reality of their situation.

As if on cue, the doors pushed open and Lucas was striding over in their direction with Josh, Zay, and Farkle behind him. 

“Thats it, James. You’re out of here,” Josh tells him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt, pulling him off of his niece in the process.

“We’re done. I want nothing to do with you. Please just leave,” She tells him, wiping her lips with the back of her hand to get rid of his alcohol that was lingering on his lips when he’d kissed her.

“Riley, please-- I’m being set up, here. Y-you have to believe me!” He says before Josh, Zay, and Farkle drag him out of the apartment.

As soon as they leave, Riley walks over to the railing. It’s not long before her emotions betray her and the tears escape her lashes and fall onto her cheeks. 

Lucas watches the girl from a few feet away as her body shakes slightly, unsure of whether he should leave her alone or be there for her. But the thought of her being so torn over some idiot broke his heart and he couldn’t leave her out here. He walks over to her tentatively before gently resting his hand on her bare shoulder to turn him to her. Instead of saying anything, he just pulls her into his arms and let’s cry into his chest. 

She knows its him. He’s always there when she was upset, consoling her in ways that James had never done. When his arms wrap around her frame, she couldn’t help but let herself come undone and cry her heart out.

————————————————— ❤ —————————————————

It’d been an hour since the entire ordeal and Riley spent most of it crying in Lucas’s arms. Even though his sweater was pretty much drenched in tears, he didn’t really care. Though he was sure the two were bound to get sick in this weather. But, he was just content with the fact that Riley felt safe enough to expose this kind of vulnerability in front of him.

The rest of their friends came in to check on her once she’d calmed down but she assured them she was okay and would rather stay out here for the time being and would return once she felt better. So, Maya simply threw a blanket over them so they’d stay somewhat warm. Besides, she didn’t want to be the reason why they didn’t enjoy their night.

The two were sitting in silence with only the sounds of Riley’s sniffling every few minutes.

“Lucas.”

His head turns at the sound of her soft voice. “Yes?”

“What happen between you and James?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I know it’s not my place to pry… But before the whole phone thing, he mentioned something about the chief’s wife…” She trails off hesitantly, trying to gauge his reaction.

His brows furrow slightly, “So he told you about what he did…?”

“Honestly, he told me something but I am more than positive that it was a complete lie. What happen with the Chief’s wife?”

“Well, when we were all on the team together… He was always known to be a flirt. And whenever she’d stop by, he’d do his thing. One night, there was a fire and the whole team was out. We came back to find them in one of the beds.. well, y’know.”

Riley couldn’t help but scoff at the excuse that James had come up with to deter her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she couldn’t understand why he’d go to such lengths to come up with such stupid lies. A shaky sigh rolls past her lips as she blinks the tears away.

“Do I even want to know what he said to you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Lucas turns to look at the distressed brunette, “Listen Riley. I’m sorry about James, you didn’t deserve that.”

“I feel so embarrassed,” She admits, letting her head hang slightly so her hair would fan out and hide her face. “He lied to my face multiple times and let him take advantage of me. I’m so stupid.”

He so badly wanted to go find James and teach him a lesson for hurting such an amazing girl like Riley like this. Tentatively, he reaches out to push her loose curls behind her ear. “Hey,” He calls out to her gently, garnering her attention. His thumb stroke over cheeks, wiping away her tears. “This is not your fault that James turned out to be an ass. You’re an amazing girl, Riley. You need to know that.”

“You’re just saying that, Lucas…” She trails off, shaking her head in disagreement. “If I was such an amazing girl would I get treated like this from a guy I’ve been in a relationship with more than two years?”

“Trust me,” He says with a chuckle because if only she knew how he really felt about her she wouldn’t think he was just saying that. “I’m not just saying that. You’re a good person and sometimes bad things happen to even the best of people. Take this as a blessing in disguise. You can do much better than him—someone who treats you like a princess. You are all that is pure in this world, Riley.”

The brunette meets his warm gaze, touched by the sincerity in his tone of voice. A small smile tugs at the ends up her lips, this one meeting her eyes. She already looks like a flushed mess and yet he manages to make her even more flustered. “You’re crazy,” She says lamely.

I’m crazy about you. He’s also smiling, secretly proud himself that he was able to make her smile. “I’m not kidding though.”

“Thanks for sitting out here with me, Lucas. You didn’t have to. Somehow you’re always around to pick up broken pieces that James leaves in his wake.” Her hand reaches out to grab his, her fingers curling around his larger ones, grateful for his presence. “It means a lot to me.”

He squeezes her fingers gently in reassurance, “I’ll always be here for you. Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

Her features twist adorably as she looks on confused, already missing the warmth of his hand on hers as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small little box. “Should I be worried?”

A small laugh passes his lips, “No. Well, I hope not?” Suddenly he’s feeling nervous and wondering if this was the wrong moment to give her the gift—or the idea of giving her a gift at all. “Alright, well… I saw this the other day and you were the first person that came to mind.” He slowly opens the box as he keeps his eyes fixated on her.

Her heart is beating against her chest as she listens to him, her jaw dropping at the sight the necklace shining at her. “This is for me?” She breathes, her gaze flickering to meet his shyly.

He uses his free hand to rub the back of his neck nervously as a chuckle slips past his lips. “Well, yeah. Do you… like it?”

“It depends, will you help me put it on?”

After a moment of carefully taking the delicate necklace out of the box, he faces her with it as she turns her back on him, lifting fisting a handful of her hair and pulling it to the side. Inching closer, he loops the necklace around her neck.  “How about now?”

Ignoring the heat that radiated from him being so close, she looks down at the gem sitting between her collar bones, shining brightly. She couldn’t help but grin at his thoughtfulness, “I love it.” Looking over her shoulder, she let’s a soft smile play across her lips. “Thank you, Lucas.”

Tilting his head slightly, he catches a glimpse of the necklace before his gaze meets hers. “I’m glad you like it.”

The two sit there for a moment, staring at each other, eyes gleaming with warmth and hearts in their throats. There’s a lingering tension between them and it’s painfully difficult to ignore.  

When his gaze falters slightly to fall on her parted lips, it takes everything within her to not press her lips against his. When she notices the way he leans in ever-so-slightly, she knows she definitely won’t be stopping him.