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schrijverr · 3 years

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Hold Me Together

Chapter 1 out of 4

Eliot gets hurt on a job and then sick. Hardison and Parker waste no time to jump in to care for him and it becomes harder and harder to say no to their care when it’s just so nice. After he has a nightmare, they’re there for him and feelings come to light.

AKA Eliot has a terrible time physically (and partly emotionally), but gets lots of cuddles and two partners in the end.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: Eliot's self-esteem issues, minor injuries.

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Take My Hand

Eliot wouldn't even classify himself as badly hurt per se. He was mostly just bruised up with a dislocated shoulder, a slight stab wound and the only thing that made him this unstable was the damaged ankle and the fact that he’d been fighting out in the rain and was completely soaked to the bone.

He knew better than to lie to himself about it, but he would be just fine on his own to take of it, before crashing into his hotel bed and sleeping the horrible day off and ride back home the next day in Lucille. Now only if Hardison and Parker believed that too.

The two of them had been keeping an eye on them ever since he had let out a slightly pained grunt over the coms, after his ankle had been kicked.

They were hovering over him as he came limping back after a con well done. The asshole had been charged with tax fraud and they could be on their way, but neither Hardison nor Parker had relaxed, both wearing a pinched face when they saw the bruises on his. For gods sake, Hardison had tried to give him a hand into the van.

However, during the ride to the hotel the adrenaline had worn off and his ankle throbbed and the hand he was pressing against his stab wound was getting soaked, he would need stitches. His shoulder also ached, but he wasn’t about to pop it back under the watchful gazes of the others.

When Lucille stopped in front of the hotel, the last thing he wanted to do, was get up.

He was shivering and he ached. He knew the gazes of everyone were on him, but he didn’t care, all he wanted was a warm bed and dry clothes.

He laser-focused on getting up from his seat, not caring about the slight hiss, before he set the first step to the door. The moment he put any weight on his ankle, he buckled and the only reason he didn’t end up on his face was Hardison, who had been hovering, jumping in to save him, making him hiss again as he caught him on the stab wound.

Hardison steadied him before pulling his hand away for a second and paling at the blood, before squeaking: “What the hell, man! Why didn’t you tell us you were bleeding?”

Eliot tried to remember why, while his brain focused on how nice it was to have Hardison’s large hand splayed over his side and wrapped around his waist. He leaned into the other to stay upright, faintly remembering that he shouldn’t. He straightened up and blinked as he mumbled: “Have stuff for stitches in my room.”

“It needs stitches?” Hardison exclaimed. “And you didn’t tell us? We could have at least bandaged it for you until we got here.”

“‘sfine, Hardison,” he frowned, suddenly remembering why he hadn’t told them. “I can manage fine, jus’ need to get to my room.”

“You- you- The man just needs to get to his room,” Hardison guffawed. “What are you going to do there, Eliot? Bleed to death? Or would you rather freeze? You’re still drenched and cold as fuck, man.”

“I’ve had worse,” Eliot protested, ignoring that he was shivering slightly.

“That makes it worse, I hope you realize that,” Hardison told him, which he had not. Having the other there as a crutch was already more comfort than he was used to and it was messing with his brain in a way an adrenaline-crash wouldn't. The warmth from Hardison made his head fuzzy and he hated how it made him feel vulnerable when there was still so much he needed to do.

Ashe busied himself withthinking about how he needed to get away from Hardison, while also not wanting to let go, he missed how Hardison and Parker shared a look, making a decision.

Parker turned to Sophie and Nate, who had been waiting under an umbrella until the others could join them in going inside. “We’ll take care of him, you two go ahead.”

The words unlocked something in his chest and the fuzziness cleared up. He shouldn’t be cared for, he was the caretaker. He was the one, who made sure everyone else was okay and the job was not done, not until they were all safely piled into Lucille on the highway far from here. Only then he could rest.

Not now.

He needed to be away from here, letting people close was dangerous and he could already feel his control slipping. He leaned more weight back on his own feet, clenching his teeth at the pain, before he mentally made a plan.

No matter how hurt he was, he needed to be alone and deal with it before it would go back to normal. However, he wouldn't get to his room on his own and maybe if he gave Hardison the idea that he’d done something, he would let Eliot go.

“Are we standing here all night?” he asked. “I wanna get to my room. Come on.”

Both grinned happily at his allowance to help him and he tried to ignore the contraction his heart made when he realized he put that grin on their faces.

Parker took his hand on his non-dislocated side to support him when he stepped out of Lucille, while Hardison supported him around his waist, also avoiding his dislocated shoulder. It was a slow going with his ankle and one support place down, but they managed.

Crossing the parking lot was equally slow with Hardison steadyinghim as Parker held up an umbrella against the unending rain.

When they finally entered the elevator, Eliot had never been more glad to just stand. Even if his companions were glancing at him in concern. He just closed his eyes and tried to block them out, which was easier said then done with Hardison’s hand still on his waist, while Parker stood close enough that he could feel her breath.

He would have run, if he could, but instead he was stuck in the elevator with them as human crutches. He focused on all the pain and the cold in order to block out the warmth of them and how nice it was.

It shouldn’t be nice.

Eliot was used to worse than this and had toughed that out on his own. He was fine by himself and having others there was only a weakness. What if they thought him as incapable of taking care of himself and therefore of them? What if on the next job they wouldn't trust him in watching their backs? He couldn't risk that.

Still, the elevator had stopped and unless he wanted to be in unnecessary pain, he would need them to get to his room where the distances were more manageable for his mangled leg.

So he grudgingly allowed them to help him to his room, thinking he could shake them off there and crash in peace.

Alas no such luck was on his side and the universe turned against him as Hardison and Parker followed him into his room. He made a protesting noise, but before he could tell them to fuck off, Hardison said: “No, man, you look terrible right now, no offense. But I’m not leaving you here to pass out on the floor, okay.”

He turned to Parker for support, but she made a seriousface, before smiling: “I’ve been working on my first aid.”

“I can also manage my own stitches,” he still attempted. He couldn't risk them seeing him as weak, even if Hardison’s hand was still warm and Parker’s smile eased a bit of the ache in his bones. He just couldn't.

“Your hands are shaking from the cold and your eyes keep glazing over,” Parker observed quite bluntly.

And he hadn’t even realized he was fazing out to avoid the pain, also avoiding any potential threats around him. He cursed and blinked, hissing when all the aches came back. He now remembered that Parker had said something and he should probably react. “I’m fine, alright. I’ll take a warm shower.”

With the pain buzzing in his head, it was harder to argue and he was tired. He wanted to get them out of his room, but neither looked willing to go, so he would need to be more stubborn than them to get them to leave.

Hardison was the first to realize Eliot was going to be stubborn about this, so he let him go, making Eliot sway as he nearly toppled over before catching himself with a groan. Hardison crossed his arms and said: “Alright, if you can walk to your bathroom, we’ll leave, otherwise you let us help you.”

Eliot looked at the bathroom, which was on the other side of his bed. A double bed, because Hardison craved luxury and projected that on everyone else. It was relatively far, but he could grit his teeth and get there.

The first step was hell. His ankle screamed at him and leaning any weight on it was a very bad idea, he would need to bandage it and cool it and rest for a few days. He definitely shouldn’t be walking on it. Still, he gritted his teeth like he promised himself and walked. He didn’t react, he had trained himself not to react and now that he was consciously thinking of not reacting, he could. Even if he wanted to scream in pain.

“Eliot, stop!” Parker exclaimed after three steps of agony. “You’re hurting yourself. If you keep going you’ll only injure yourself further. Who will protect us if you hurt yourself? Just let us help you.”

It spoke testaments to how far she’d gotten that she could figure out her feelings and verbalize them and Eliot would appreciate it more were he not still reeling from the pain.

When he had gotten reality back into focus, he thought about her words. He could allow himself a helping hand when it meant he would heal faster, because that was their reason. They didn’t want the guy having their back to be injured, especially with how fast Nate went from job to job, it would be bad.

His brain could allow that logic. It was business, no emotions and just ensuring their cons. It wasn’t twisty and complicated.

So, he nodded and smiled tiredly when Hardison exclaimed: “Oh thank god.”

They were at his side in moments, Hardison again wrapping his arm around his waist again while Parker fluttered around him to catch him should he collapse.

In the bathroom, they set him down on the toilet. Parker was at his side, asking him about how to treat his wounds. He replied: “It’s best if I do stitches before I shower and wrap it afterwards. I’ll do my shoulder myself now and my ankle just needs to be wrapped and cooled, maybe elevated while I sleep. It’s not that bad, Parker, promise.”

She studied his face for a moment, before nodding and asking: “You sure you don’t need help with your shoulder? And I can do the stitches.”

“Nah, I’d rather do the shoulder myself. But fineon the stitches,” he told her, he shouldn’t be doing stitches with his recently dislocated shoulder making him unsteady anyway. It had nothing to do with her hopeful face, not at all.

He braced himself, before he brought his hand down, letting out a long muffled groan as the shoulder popped loudly back into place.

“Oh man, that’s just wrong,” Hardison said at the noise. He had been following their movements from his place at the sink, still not all that well with injuries. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine, Hardison. Dislocated shoulder is hardly the worst that happened to me,” he said, realizing he had already told them that and it hadn’t been received well. “Now if I can get stitched up you both can leave me in peace to shower.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” Hardison protested.

“What?”

“No, man, you’ll pass out or slip or something. I’m not leaving you here to accidentally hit your head and bleed out in the shower,” Hardison explained. “That’s undignified.”

“And you standing here isn’t undignified?” he shot back, hoping Hardison would leave, before the twisty feeling in his chest could take over.

“It isn’t,” Parker said, stuff for the stitches in hand. “Now, shirt off,” she ordered.

He hadn’t thought of that and braced himself as he took off his shirt. It was slightly awkward with his still sore shoulder, but he managed, even if he got slightly stuck at one point and someone tugged it the rest of the way. It was Hardison, he saw after, since he still had his wet shirt in his hands.

Without the shirt, the cool air reminded him how cold he was. He was even shivering, which was good, but also bad. He would need to hold still for the stitches, but he wasn’t hypothermic.

They didn’t have a local anesthetic, so he would have to tough it out anyway. Parker cleaned his wound as best she could with rubbing alcohol and water, before disinfecting the needles and setting to work.

Eliot focused on Hardison, forcing himself not to react to the needle sliding in and out of his flesh as he held still.

Hardison was also not looking at his wound, instead choosing to lay a hand on Eliot’s shoulder as if he was comforting him instead of the other way around. Still, it was a grounding touch to focus on and Eliot tried to ignore the weird flutters in his chest as he relaxed, sagging slightly against Hardison, who took that as an invitation to lay Eliot’s head against his stomach.

The gash at his side was more long than deep and it took a while before it was stitched up completely.

In that time, Eliot had allowed his mind to drift as his body became plaint against the warmth. It was only when Parker patted his leg lightly and told him she was all done that he blinked back into reality, immediately blushing as he realized how he had cozied up to Hardison in that time.

He quickly retreated and tried to play it off by examining his wound. It was neat stitch work and he smiled at Parker and said: “Looks good,” feeling warm when she returned the gesture. It would be a small addition to his scar collection and he was glad neither had said a word about it.

Meanwhile Hardison had walked to the shower and turned it on, playing with the heat until he was satisfied. Then he turned back and said: “You can’t sit in the shower, well you could on the floor, but that’s nasty. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Yeah, of course,” Eliot lied, hoping it would be true.

Now he just had to get his jeans off and get into the shower with Hardison’s help, which should be mortifying, but he was mostly scared of him and Parker leaving, despite how much he had wanted them to go moments before. Parker wasn’t much of the heavy lifting, but she hadn’t strayed from his side and he found he would be sad to see them go and have to tend to his wounds alone, even if that was the best course of action.

His silence had dragged on too long, because Parker asked him: “Do you need help with the pants?”

“What? No, I’m alright,” he said, unbuckling his belt, before realizing getting up on his own was a challenge. “Maybe a hand with getting up?” he admitted, hating that he had to ask for help and hoping he wouldn't find judgment in their eyes.

He didn’t find any, both were glad to lever him up, which was a two men job now that his body’s control had left him in place of tiredness.

Once standing, he found that getting his jeans off was harder than he assumed with how they wetly clung to his legs. He couldn't put any weight on his ankle, so he was standing lopsided, which pulled on his stitches.

After a moment or two, they took pity on him, with Hardison giving Parker a look, who then asked him if he needed any help. He wanted to deny it for a second, but he didn’t see himself getting out of his jeans alone and he reminded himself that it was just bad for business if he went down and then wondered why it made him flush when Parker shimmied him out of his jeans while Hardison held him up. He pushed the thought down.

The track to the shower was hell and Eliot couldn't remember the last time he’d felt this woozy, which was strange because he’d definitely gotten injured worse and it hadn’t had this effect on him. Of course beforehe hadn’t hadHardison and Parker to takecare of him.

It should worry him more how much he was giving in and how badly it messed with his head, but it was hard to think when there were hands guiding him, keeping him steady, making sure he wouldn't fall.

When the spray first hit him, it hurt and he hissed, nearly falling again, only just caught by the others. His skin tingled until it itched as he warmed up.

He hadn’t even realized he was still leaning against Hardison until he asked: “You good to shower on you own, man? Because I don’t mind holding you up, but I’m ditching my jeans and shirt then.”

“Wha?” he blinked, before he processed. “No, ‘m fine.”

“You know what, I don’t believe you,” Hardison said, then he turned to Parker and said: “Hold him for a moment.”

His large soft hands were replaced by Parker’s calloused and small ones. Her long sleeves got wet under the spray, but Eliot couldn't bring himself to apologize for it, just too exhausted to even think of moving as he wondered why he had ever thought it’d be a good idea to handle this on his own.

Soon Hardison joined him in the shower, wrapping his arms around him from behind and letting Eliot lean against him under the spray.

It was warm and comfortable and for a moment he could forget that he was injured and cold and barely warming up. He could forget that he was technically not safe yet and that the people in his shower, holding him up were his coworkers and nothing more. He could just let go and exist for a moment.

“Parker, can you sponge him down?” Hardison’s voice broke the spell. “Gently,” the hacker added in a warning voice.

He tried to protest that he could clean himself, thank you very much, but he tripped over his own tongue, which never happened, and before the words could be formed, Parker had already appeared in the shower sans shirt, armed with a sponge.

Contrary to his expectation, she was gentle and it somehow bothered him more than if she’d been rough for reasons he couldn't explain.

She worked him down methodically, but the sponge soothed his bruises and he got lost in the sensations of her scrubbing him down. He was in just his boxers and Hardison was too, while Parker was only wearing leggings and a sports bra. It should be weird, it should bother him that he wasn’t even fighting his closing eyes, nor fighting the fact that he was practically burrowing into Hardison, but it didn’t. He just felt content.

Still, even all that contentness couldn't make the pain go away completely. He was exhausted as were his muscles and they let him know along with his ankle and minor stab wound. It took him a moment to register the hurting as bad, then he said: “I need to sit,” and it was strange how easy admitting that came to him.

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Hardison said. “You still wanna wash the blood out of your hair? Because it’s fine where it is, but I can also imagine you wanna take care of your luscious locks.”

“There’s blood in my hair?” He must have been really out of it that he hadn’t noticed that, but he didn’t like the idea of that being there. He would probably be too exhausted to wash it out later, hell, he was too exhausted now, but blood in someone’s hair was a reason for suspicion and they weren’t home yet. So, he groaned, realizing he still had to do that with his hurt shoulder and tired arm, not to mention the stitches.

“Hey, you good?” Hardison asked at the groan.

He tiredly tried to explain, hoping it would come across. “‘S jus’ that blood in ur hair is susp’cious and my arms’re tired, but my hair nee’s to be clean and jus’,” he groaned again as he attempted to lift his hands to show them.

What he didn’t see was their concerned gazes at how out of it he was. Parker checked his eyes and he frowned at her. “Do you have a concussion?” she asked.

And that would make a lot of sense, if he had been hit in the head hard enough and he knewhe hadn’t been, so it couldn't be. So, maybe it was the blood loss? Or just the exhaustion. He had been awake for quite some time and taken a bunch of hits, but that was standard. Poison? No, not poison. Just- just tiredness, he supposed.

“No, ‘m fine, Parker,” he finally replied. “Jus’ ad’enaline crashin’,” yeah, that sounded about right, he could believe that.

“Does this always happen after a con?” Hardison asked, “I’m moving us to the floor, by the way, don’t mind me,” he added, indeed lowering Eliot until he was sitting on the shower floor between Hardison’s legs, despite the fact that it had been nasty earlier.

“Nah,” he assured them. “Mus’ve been more ti’ed than I thought.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay, we’ll get you sorted,” Hardison said, before turning his attention to Parker and asking: “Can you hand me that shower head.” a small pause, “Ah, thanks, baby.”

Eliot was confused about the interaction for a moment, then felt the spray in his hair, startling him slightly. Hardison shushed him, saying: “Can’t have a security risk,” and if Eliot was a bit clearer he would have caught the joking tone, but instead his brain went: ‘yeah, makes sense,’ and let it happen.

He heard Parker’s excited voice ask if she could do the soap and Hardison chuckle out a ‘course, mama,’ but nothing really registered.

At some level he knew it was slight dissociation, a trick he used more often than he’d like to admit to deal with going through the pain when something needed to be done, such as tending to the wounds, like now.

But, the pain wasn’t even that bad, and the care was much better than he was used to. He shouldn’t be distancing himself from the whole experience so much, still his mind was pushing him away from his body, while it relaxed in the hands of his coworkers.

His teammates.

His people.

He should really be getting back to his body, Hardison was shielding his eyes and the warm spray was running over his head. He focused on that, on the water running down his bare back, on Hardison still murmuring nonsense to him, on Parker poking his leg, not quite his ankle, but close enough to feel it. He kept his focus on the ankle.

In his mind he defended it by telling himself that he was just assessing the damage and that was why he was focusing on the ankle, because it would be bad for business if the team’s muscle couldn't walk. He didn’t tell himself the pain was more familiar and easier to cope with than the gentle touch.

Getting out of the shower was a different challenge and while Eliot was finally warm again, he still wasn’t much help and his muscled frame was heavy.

He got jostled around quite a bit and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making any noise when he accidentally caught himself on his hurt ankle, but in the end he was standing and his stitches were still in tact. A victory in his books.

Parker was still mostly dry, so when Hardison was done maneuvering Eliot onto the toilet, he grabbed a towel for himself as well, throwing the other to Parker as he said: “I’m grabbing us some clothes and a bit of ice, alright, mama?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of him,” Parker assured him as he left. Then her focus was completely on Eliot, who still sat dazed on the toilet, slightly upset at the cooling water and cold air, but not enough to do something about it in his exhausted state.

Parker filled up his field of vision again, first patting down his face, then producing a tiny towel to wrap his hair in. She moved over his neck, down his back, doing his arms as she went. She took extra care around the stitches and Eliot felt overwhelmed.

The twisty feelings he’d been trying to push away came back. Parker was being gentle with him when there was no reason for it, Hardison was getting him ice and had sat on the nasty floor with him instead of leaving his hair uncomfortable and bloody.

They didn’t need to do any of that. They could just leave him to his own and he would have been fine. They hadn’t needed to jump in when they saw he could tough through it. So why were they still here? Why were they still being nice to him? And why did it hurt so much that they cared? He shouldn’t care so mu-

Oh.

Oh no.

He liked them, no, he loved them. They were so nice to him and part of his brain enjoyed the comfort so much that the survival part of his brain had jumped in to make his consciousness disappear, because it didn’t know how to cope with that.

Parker was still drying him and he should really push her off right about now, because this was way too intimate and she had a boyfriend. A boyfriend he also had feelings for, but he didn’t think that made the situation any better.

It didn’t seem Parker noticed his internal breakdown as she went down his legs, thankfully ignoring other areas luckily still covered by the boxers, even if he knew that wet as they were, they didn’t hide much.

Okay, back it up, Eliot, he told himself. What do we know?

He went over it in his head. He had wanted to push them away, he remembered that now and the twisty feelings he had also pushed away in order to see it as a business transaction, but Parker and Hardison had gone much further than a business transaction. And he’d liked that. That could be number two, he liked that they cared for him.

Was that just a touch starvation thing, he wondered. He examined it further, then came to the conclusion that it wasn’t, not entirely at least. Having the contact for contact’s sake was nice, but it was nothing compared to the women(and sometimes men) he had spend a night with. It felt like much more, just more. Intense.

So, it wasn’t just the touch, it was the fact that Hardison and Parker were the ones touching him. Fuck. They were dating each other, he shouldn’t be weird about it. They were good together and his feelings should not interfere with what they had.

How he hadn’t figured out he liked them before now, he didn’t know, because it washed over him in waves suddenly and he had a hard time getting it under control.

Of course, his mind had disassociated so badly during the time they showered him (which was another thing he had just let them do) just to avoid feeling things over them, so maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. God, this was a fucking mess.

Semi-luckily for him, his life had been a series of messes and he knew how to deal with them: repress all feelings about it and move on without ever telling a soul.

He had only just decided on that course of action when Hardison returned to make it hard for him again. He’d only just gotten used to Parker’s gentle patting.

But Hardison had clothes and maybe getting covered a bit would be better. Of course, he still couldn't lift his arm properly and standing was out of the question, so this reverse-strip was about to become up close and personal. He would say he hated it, but that was a lie and he hated himself a bit for it.

Not that he had much time to think about it, since Hardison immediately began talking the moment he entered the bathroom. “I know your shoulder still hurts and I went through your stuff, but you only have shirts with you, so I got you one of my zip-up hoodies, because I’m amazing. I also have boxers here and I know that’s kinda weird that I went through your stuff and got you boxers, but mine wet were very uncomfortable and I didn’t want to subject you to that. Also I have sweatpants.”

“You went through my stuff?” he asked, finding the thing that was the most normal to comment on, hoping it would keep the whole thing normal.

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry, but we need to get you dressed and into a bed,” Hardison answered. “You looked like you were about to fall asleep standing earlier.”

And that was hard to deny and he felt a bit fuzzy when he imaged Hardison taking care to select one of his hoodies, just so that Eliot wouldn't have to lift his arm. He made a tired gesture, any fight he would have leaving his body, then he smiled: “It’s okay. ‘m pretty tired anyway.”

“Good, you need the rest,” Hardison nodded, before laying the clothes down and picking up the hoodie, holding it up with a question mark in his eyes.

Eliot nodded and the towel he’d had in his hair fell. He made a small noise, before admitting: “I’d forgotten that was there.”

“It looked funny,” Parker told him, before adding, “I’m glad you’re not slurring your words anymore. I was worried.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” Eliot blushed, remembering his antics in the shower. He still felt near that person, but now that there was less pain and contact to distance himself from and he had more control over his emotions, he could once again regulate his speech.

“Wanna talk about what happened?” Hardison asked, easing his right and hurt shoulder into the hoodie while Eliot let out a measured breath at the stab of pain.

He remembered being in a daze, cuddling up to Hardison and letting Parker wash him gently with a sponge, despite the fact that they were together and he should stay far away from that. He remembered tripping over his words and needing to sit, while they washed his hair, because he couldn't. He remembered it being nice and he quickly put a lid on all of that.

“Did anything happen?” he finally shot back, deflecting, as he put his left arm into the other sleeve of Hardison’s hoodie. It hugged his arms tightly, since he was slightly more built than Hardison, but the sleeves were longer and fell over his hands.

“That’s a no, then okay,” Hardison nodded, “You need pants. Now, we tried letting you take of your own pants off and that didn’t work. So-”

“You’re not changing my fucking underwear, Hardison.” Eliot had to put a stop to that line of thinking ASAP. It was too close to things he wanted and he couldn't risk that.

“Why not?” Parker asked.

She was completely genuine and he could never not answer her. So, he started to stumble through a reply: “I’d be naked, Parker and you- you’re-I- it’s fucking embarrassing. I’m a grown man, I can change my own fucking clothes.”

It looked like Parker wanted to say something to that, but a look from Hardison cut her off. The man turned to Eliot and put his hands together as he did the point thing to Eliot, while he talked: “Okay, man, look I get it. This sucks for you right now and all that, but me and Parker care about you, right, and we are worried about you. So, neither of us want to really leave you here to hurt yourself. You get that?”

His brain had mostly stopped when Hardison told him they cared about him, static filling his head as alarms blared while other parts flashed with hidden meanings he shouldn’t seek. Faintly he was aware he should answer, so he mumbled: “Wha- yeah.”

Hardison rubbed his forehead and said: “See, this is what we’re talking about. Where did your mind run of to? Did you even hear what I said?”

“Partly. Man, get off my case, I’m trying, okay,” Eliot snapped, a bit harsher than he’d intended, but all the emotions were twisting up inside his chest and making it difficult for him to focus without spilling anything.

“Hey, don’t get grumpy at us for trying to help,” Hardison snapped back.

Something shriveled inside Eliot. He’d never wanted to make Hardison upset with him. He was just exhausted and slightly upset at the whole situation. He looked back to see why he had even agreed to them helping him. Their worried faces came to mind again and he felt a pang of guilt go through his chest.

“Come on, Eliot, say something, before you start shivering again,” Parker pleaded and when he looked down, his legs were covered with goosebumps.

“…Fine,” he gave in, “please be quick.”

“Alright, man!” And there was relief and pep in Hardison’s voice and the fact that he wasn’t angry anymore did more good to Eliot than any painkiller could have. “We’re gonna be quick and discreet. Parker’ll hold you up and I’ll change. Won’t peek, promise.”

“Just get it over with,” Eliot sighed as he was heaved to his feet, still unsteady, but now more due to the tiredness pulling at his limbs rather than the pain that still pulsed in the background.

As promised it was quick, didn’t mean it was any less awkward.

Parker kept him steady with her arms around his forearms, but he still couldn't put his weight on his left ankle. So when Hardison pulled his underwear down, he could step out of one of his leg-holes by himself and Parker had to shift to under his shoulder, before Hardison could exchange the wet underwear for a new one.

Still it could have been much worse and the clean, dryunderwear felt indeed much better. He was now sitting on a towel on the toilet, while Hardison knelt in front of him, bunching up the sweats so he could put his feet into it.

When it came to his injured ankle. He clenched his teeth, not managing to keep a groan in his throat. Under his breath, Hardison apologized softly.

Then Parker knelt down with bandages and set to work on his ankle, wrapping it. She had not been lying when she’d said she had worked on her first aid. The bandaging was secure, but not too tight and tied off neatly.

“Now I still need to do your side,” she said. “I wanted to wait until you were warmed up a bit. How are you feeling, still cold?”

“No, ‘m much better, Park,” he smiled at her and let her undo the zipper, before she bandaged his side as well.

He was then once again pulled to his feet and Hardison tugged his sweats the rest of the way, before he could think of bending down and doing it himself.

The track to the bed was slow, but less painful than last time. With his mind back in order a bit, it took effort to not sink into Hardison’s side or think too much about the hand on his waist and how careful he was with his shoulder. It was all so tender and Eliot needed it to stop before his brain could write all sorts of meanings about the gesture.

Parker had already pulled back the sheets on the bed and had put down a pillow for his foot. He smiled at her, but it turned into a wince once he sat down. He had enough strength left in him to lay down on his own, but the moment his head had hit the pillow the exhaustion slammed into him and he knew he would make a longer night than 90 minutes.

Small calloused hands lifted his ankle onto the pillow, before a towel-wrapped ice bag was dropped on it and a finger poked the ankle one last time. He didn’t have the energy to react to the poke and he felt lightly touched at the gesture, something he pushed down immediately.

He still felt as if there were a thousand things he had to do before he could rest. He hadn’t been able to check the parameter, or if his door had been locked, if Nate and Sophie were alright, where Parker and Hardison would be when he was asleep. Hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth.

Eliot contemplated getting back up for his teeth. He could check the other stuff while he was at it and dental hygiene was important.

Hardison would probably scoff at that and laugh with the way he only drank orange soda and other sugary stuff, but Eliot knew what dental infections could do at the wrong moment and most of his teeth were fake and had cost him a lot of money. He was very careful with his teeth.

Still, he found himself drifting off despite all that, faintly feeling his mattress dip under familiar weights.

A/N:

How oblivious can this man get? And other questions about Eliot’s emotional state. Repression is one hell of a drug. But he figures it out, shout out to Eliot for sifting through his feelings like a somewhat functional person, what a lad. Even though his answer was in the end suppression, he tried.

I am also excited to announce that I’m making it both better and worse for him >:3

(don’t worry, he’s getting compensated with hugs, so he should be fine, mostly)

#RR writing #tw: minor injury #tw: self esteem issues #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker #leverage parker #leverage #leverage ot3 #eliot x hardison x parker #thiefsome #hitter hacker thief #leverage tv #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #Hold Me Together #Hold Me Together Part 1

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lizardkingeliot · 3 years

Text

So, do those of you currently reading time cast a spell on you (but you won’t forget me) remember that scene in chapter 4 where Quentin shows up for his tutoring session and Eliot says he wants to go to the edge of the campus and manipulate the magic of the wards so they can fly? You know... this one:

Only they never end up making it there because they start bickering the second they leave the library? Well, in the rough draft of this chapter I initially had this scene... ending very differently. And they also weren’t going to fly, they were going to... well. I think I’ll just let y’all read it for yourselves lmao. I think I talked about this a bit on twitter when I was working on the chapter so if it sounds familiar that’s probably why. ANYWAY. I have a ton of deleted scenes from this fic, most of which will never see the light of day, but I woke up this morning with the urge to share at least part of this one so... I guess that’s what I’m going to do.

This is super rough and unedited and honestly not up to my usual standards, but... you know. Rough drafts tend to be that way. It’s also all over the place in terms of tone and where they were at this point in the fic lmao. This might be bordering on crack honestly. Which is why I just scrapped the whole thing and went a different route in the final draft. Anyway. Shutting up now. This is about 2k words so I’m putting most of it under a cut...

—

Trudging across campus two paces behind Eliot, Quentin was stricken by the overwhelming feeling that he was trapped inside a dream. The eerie, quiet campus, lit only by the waning moon and a few dots of light spilling from the various student houses. He looked back over his shoulder, spotting the Cottage in the distance, the dim orange glow of the front bay window swimming in his vision like a boat lost at sea.

As they approached the outer edge of the grounds, Quentin could feel the magic of the wards, buzzing on the air like insects. Bone-deep reverberations, strains of music swelling from within. He’d never been out this far before. The line where Brakebills ended and the real world began. Where there was nothing but the boat house and the wind. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He breathed in deep, the scent of the Hudson rushing nearby filling his senses as Eliot came to a sudden halt in the dark.

“Here,” Eliot said. Quentin could only just barely make out the shape of his elegant fingers pointing just ahead. “Can you feel the energy? I guess the Naturalists come out here sometimes and use it to light their bongs.” He laughed, a sound that warmed Quentin underneath his jacket at once. “And occasionally singe their own eyebrows off in the process.”

Quentin looked back. They’d come out to a place that the light from the Cottage couldn’t reach. Eliot formed an orb between his hands and pinned it overhead, a grapefruit sized pendant of magic swaying gently in the breeze. He stepped into Quentin’s personal space, giving him the once over. Head-to-toe and back again, settling at last on Quentin’s eyes.

“So,” he said with a smirk. “Cavaleri Animation. My memory of the First Year curriculum is a little hazy, but they’ve dazzled you all with that one already, yes? Turning your marbles into little glass animals, you know the one.”

Quentin nodded. “Yeah, um… but Alice was the only one who could actually get hers to work.”

Swift and warm as a pulse, Eliot’s hand curled around the nape of Quentin’s neck. Heat spreading down the column of his spine like a flame catching a wick. Thumb teasing over burning flesh. Eliot’s lips ghosted over his ear, not quite touching. Still, Quentin swore he could feel his smile. “Well,” he said, soft and dark, “I’m here now. And you’re going to do it. And it’s going to work.”

Quentin’s hand was bunching up the back of Eliot’s cardigan. He didn’t know when that had happened. The hum of the magic was making him dizzy. For a moment, it was impossible to breathe. His body a tight line of tension and desire. Eliot pulled away and Quentin released his hold, staggering a little as he tried to regain some semblance of control.

“Um, okay…” Quentin ran a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt at centering himself. “Why, uh—why do we have to do that here? We could have just done that spell in the library.”

“Because,” Eliot said with a tip of his head, “I have a theory.”

“A theory?” Quentin frowned. “You brought me out here for a theory?”

“More of a hypothesis really,” Eliot said with a wave of his hand. “But I think it’s going to work.”

“Great,” Quentin said with an exasperated sigh. “Dicking around with unstable magic in the middle of the night. What could possibly go wrong.”

“Look, it’s going to be fun,” Eliot said with that casual little air of his. “And we probably won’t explode even if I’m wrong. So we really don’t have very much to lose.”

“Okay, I’m—” Quentin threw his hands up. “For fuck’s sake, El, can you just tell me what we’re actually doing out here?”

“We,” Eliot said very slowly, reaching inside his cardigan, pulling a sliver of magenta colored glass out of the pocket of his vest, and looking through it, “are going to tap into all that crazy energy and make your little glass marble friend into a very big animal friend and take it for a spin.” He passed the sliver of glass over to Quentin. “Take a look.”

Quentin stared at Eliot for a very long time before relenting. “You’re actually a crazy person, you know that?”

“I think you mean certified sorcerer genius, but I’ll take it.” He gestured with a nod of his head. “Go on. It’s balls to the wall out here. So much energy we could power a fucking nuclear reactor and I doubt Henry would notice.”

Quentin looked through the glass, moving it from one eye over to the other. At first, it was impossible to make sense of what he was actually seeing. A latticework of stars. Billions of them it seemed, all bumping up against one another in a wild, cosmic dance. A galaxy of intersecting lines and patchwork patterns shimmering like the wings of a dragonfly. And every now and then, a spark. Popping off into the dark like fingers desperate for the night. Quentin handed the glass back to Eliot with a shake of his head.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Don’t be boring, Quentin,” Eliot said. It made Quentin’s chest ache with its normalcy. Like their past couldn’t touch them out here. Like out here with their bad ideas and their wild magic, maybe they could have some hope to start again. “But maybe… maybe don’t make anything that wants to bite our heads off.”

“Okay, so…” Quentin sighed with his whole chest. “To recap: you want to steal unstable magic from the wards of the school where we’re both currently students to make a giant glass animal that hopefully doesn’t swallow us whole so we can… take it for a ride?”

“Yes,” Eliot said, like it was the most obviously brilliant thing in the world. “Don’t make that face with your face. Tell me you’ve never wanted to ride a rhinoceros.”

“We are not riding a rhinoceros, Eliot. Absolutely not.”

“Well, okay…” Eliot’s hand on his nape again. Heat, fire, a five alarm blaze encircling his neck like a collar. “If you could ride on any animal, real or imaginary—”

“The Cozy Horse,” Quentin said without thinking, heart pounding like hoofbeats trapped inside his chest. “Um… it’s from the Fillory books, uh…”

Eliot laughed softly. “Okay.” His hand slid down to Quentin’s shoulder, gripping it possessively. “Tell me about... the Cozy Horse.”

“Um…” Quentin squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath, shook his head. Eliot’s hand was stroking up and down the expanse of his upper arm and shoulder, making everything go all fuzzy in his brain. “It’s just, uh… it’s this horse that Jane rode on. It’s, uh… really tall. Like a hundred feet. Like a clydesdale on steroids.”

“You won’t ride a rhinoceros but you’re perfectly fine with a horse that’s a hundred feet tall?”

Quentin turned his face upward, trapping himself in Eliot’s gaze. Sinking, flying, falling. Close enough to kiss if he only went up on his toes a little. Tucked inside the safety of his warmth. Quentin wanted to burn, to melt into a puddle at Eliot’s feet and slosh around like muck. “I…” Quentin swallowed. “I don’t think the Cozy Horse would hurt us. It’s basically a giant stuffed animal.”

Eliot grinned, gazing down at Quentin for a long beat before pulling away. “Okay then,” he said, taking a few steps down the path under their feet. “Show me Cozy Horse.”

Quentin reached into his pocket, knelt down, set the marble on the path. “I don’t understand how I’m supposed to… harness the magic of the wards.”

Eliot made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, peering through it with one eye. “Just leave that part to me,” he said absently. “Go on. Make your horse. And don’t say you can’t do it. We both know that you can.”

Quentin gazed up the long line of Eliot’s body. Eliot was fully focused on the wards. The sound of night, the crackle of magic. Quentin shivered under his jacket. His hands hovered over the marble, focusing his energy on prepping the glass for transformation with Dempsey's Silent Thermogenesis. Once molten, the marble could be manipulated into almost any shape he could imagine. For the Cozy Horse, Quentin didn’t have much to go on but the memory of a single illustration, and a few lines from The Wandering Dune, but he figured it would probably be simple enough. How hard could it be to imagine a draft horse the size of something straight out of the Cretaceous period?

Quentin twisted the glass under his fingers, so fully focused on his task he almost didn’t notice when Eliot began to move. When, suddenly, through the loop of Eliot’s fingers, a beam of sharp, frenzied magic began to focus on the animal he had half-formed with laser precision.

“You might wanna hurry,” Eliot said. “I don’t know how long I can hold this here.”

Quentin scowled in his direction, looping a bit of the molten glass into the shape of a tail. “You’re shit at communicating, you know that,” he spit, letting the gentle rage rising in his belly fuel his magic. “I thought cooperative magic was supposed to be, I don’t know… cooperative?”

Legs, hooves, the gentle slope of a hulking animal’s back. The wispy tendrils of a mane. Eliot was saying something that might have been a warning. Quentin was too focused on his creation to parse a single one of his words. The magic of the wards cracked like lightning. He could feel it in his hands. Quickly, almost as an afterthought, Quentin gave the beast that had come to life beneath his fingers a shimmering loop around the back of the neck that might have passed for reins if he squinted.

A single hoofbeat on the soft ground. The beam of magic stuttering through Eliot’s fingers died away, and he let out a tremendous sigh.

“Okay so... “ Quentin frowned, eyes flitting from the tiny glass horse up to Eliot’s face. “I don’t think this is going to—”

A flash, a pop, a tremendous wave of heat knocking the air from his lungs. Quentin shoved his body backward off the path and into the grass just as Eliot was running over. Kneeling down, using himself as a makeshift shield as he pushed Quentin further back away from the molten monstrosity shifting and morphing and doubling, tripling, quadrupling in size. A deep rumble, the tinkling of glass. Quentin peered over Eliot’s shoulder, his eyes moving up, up, up, trying to take in what it was he was actually seeing.

The glass horse shook out its mane, rearing up on its hind legs and down again with an earth-trembling thud. The distance from the ground to its shoulder must have been twenty feet. It had no eyes and no mouth, but Quentin swore he could feel its glassy stare boring into him. The light of the orb dangling overhead passed right through the center of its body. For a long moment, everything went perfectly still.

And then Eliot started to laugh. “Holy shit,” he said, his eyes wide as dinner plates when he turned his face to Quentin. “That is a big fucking horse.”

A laugh sputtered out from between Quentin’s lips. “Yeah, um… yeah. Fuck. It really is.”

Eliot’s body pressed right up against Quentin’s body when he turned, and leaned in, so close they were almost kissing. A pulse of heat passed between them. Quentin felt it in his chest like a second heart. “So,” Eliot said, a hand curling around Quentin’s cheek for a fleeting moment before pulling away. “You wanna take her for a spin?”

Quentin felt absolutely out of his mind. Hazy, his body a liminal space. “Yeah,” he said with a short, stuttering burst of laughter. “Yeah, why the fuck not.”

Unreality set in hard as they stood and cautiously approached. Up close, they might as well have been gazing upward at the hulking glass back of a dinosaur. The haphazard reins Quentin had created looped around the beast’s neck like a string of fairy lights.

“Um…” Quentin laughed, tucking a tuft of hair behind his ear. “How the fuck are we even going to get on this thing?”

Eliot took his hand suddenly, threading their blood-warm fingers together. “Oh, Q,” he said with a full-faced grin, “we’re gonna fucking fly.”

#the magicians #queliot #otp: proof of concept #myfic #*margo hanson voice* that's not tonally consistent with the fic

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ill-try-to-write · 4 years

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4450

ldkfjslkdgaslkg okay so I know I haven’t kept any of my promises for my writing yet, but look! a thing!

Words: 3836 Warnings: needle mention, character death, there might be a few swears?? also my garbage 3 am coffee-fuelled writings (please let me know if theres anything else)

"4450, 4450, are you clear?" Jojo grabbed the radio that had flickered to life and leaned in as his partner, Eliot, slid into the driver's seat. "Yep, just cleared, both baby and mum are healthy, we're leaving them with Alpha 437." The radio crackled again. "Okay, we've just sent you case 7-0-9, calls from both civilians and police requesting ambulance service for a possible deceased male. His roommate found him unconscious and unresponsive, CPR has been administered, going on six minutes now." "Alright, we're on our way." Eliot pulled out of the driveway as Jojo slung his seatbelt over his shoulder. Eliot glanced across to him. "How're you holdin' up?" Jojo slumped back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face, stifling a yawn. "Good, good, just tired." "Okay then." Eliot reached up and flicked on the lights and sirens. "I have a feeling this is gonna be a rough ride." Jojo hummed in agreement, resting his head against the cold window and shut his eyes, readying himself for their up coming patient. He took a deep breath in, and- "4450, 4450," he cracked open an eyelid. "Just asking for an ETA on 7-0-9." Jojo reached forward. "This is 4450, ETA, three minutes. Do we have any other units arriving?" the radio fell silent for a few seconds before the voice on the other end answered. "8085, 7364, and specialist paramedics are heading to the scene, but so far I believe you are closest." Eliot clicked his tongue. "Alright lovely, thank you." Jojo cracked his knuckles and shook out his hands, making Eliot cringe behind the steering wheel. "Do you have to do that every time we get a new patient?" "It helps me warm up." "Well, could you warm up without snapping your fingers in half?" Jojo rolled his eyes good-naturedly and rested his head against the glass. "No promises." Back to gazing out the window again, watching the scenery flicker by was oddly calming. Jojo hated to admit it, but whenever they got a new call, he could feel his heart speed up as his imagination would run wild, conjuring the most gruesome and gory extremities of what they'd find. "Always best to prepare for the worst!" he'd chuckle in a nervous singsongy voice, hoping no one would see the anxiety that lay behind those words. But, the steadily flowing landscape was a nice distraction from those thoughts. Currently, they were passing a small playground. Jojo squinted at it. "Huh." He cocked his head as Eliot threw him a sideways glance. "What?" "No, no, it's just… déjà vu, I think…" Eliot gave a slight nod, as Jojo went back to staring. 'Please turn left.' They rounded a corner, following the GPS, as a park flew past the windows, a small grey car swerved onto the side of the road to let them pass. Eliot held a hand up in thanks to the driver, while Jojo stared out at the swiftly moving grass of the park, and scrunched his face up even more. This all seemed so familiar. The playground, the park, that twisted old tree, even some of the people on the street. 'Continue straight for 500 meters.' They passed a road sign. Jojo's stomach dropped, he blinked several times and swallowed thickly. His imagination was going haywire again, it had to be. "Hey- uh, El?" "Yeah?" "What's the- what's the uh, patient's current situation?" "Possibly deceased, CPR going on eleven minutes." Jojo took a deep, shaky breath. "Alrighty." 'Please turn right.' They rounded a final corner, a set of apartment blocks loomed towards them. Very familiar looking apartment blocks. Oh. Oh god! He dug his nails into the sides of his seat, gritting his teeth together. He was spiraling, overthinking, but he had to keep it together. Come on, of all the people in the apartments, what were the odds? Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. It was okay, it was fine! He was fine! Everything was fine! He just had to relax, deep breath in, deep breath out… Deep breath in, deep breath out. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remain calm. Another breath. He bit his lip and forced his eyes open, just as Eliot pulled into a parking space, right next to Jojo's own car. …shit. He felt the sweat on his palms seep into the car seat. 'You have arrived at your destination.’

The sound of Eliot's door slamming shut thrust Jojo from his shock directly into panic. "Jo?" Eliot called, moving around to the passenger door, equipment slung over his shoulder. "You alright?" Jojo tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Yeah, 'm coming." He opened the door and stepped onto the concrete with numb legs. He landed on the pavement, and like lightning, realization hit him. He was in the middle of a job. He had a patient. A patient who was dying, if not already dead. What was he doing?! It felt like he'd been hit with a sack of bricks. He could feel his heart beating again, his legs regained feeling and suddenly the lump in his throat became a lot smaller. Jojo snatched his own equipment from the back of the ambulance and turned on his heel, jogging to catch up with Eliot. Stay focused, alright? No matter what happens or who it is, stay focused, you're here to save a life. He picked up the pace, finally reaching Eliot who'd made his way inside the building. "Where's the patient?" "Outside apartment fifteen," Eliot responded, eyes scanning the small brass numbers on the doors. Jojo took a breath. "Uh, up the first flight of stairs, I think." He moved ahead of Eliot, steering him towards the staircase. With every step he took, Jojo could feel his heart beating louder and louder and his stomach dropping lower and lower. This is just another job. They reached the top of the stairs and already Jojo could hear concerned voices and slightly muffled sobs. The voices grew louder as Jojo and Eliot rounded a corner, Jojo sucked in a breath, sharp as glass, as the scene came into view. Turns out fate really is that cruel. A throng of people stood around a body that lay in the middle of the hall, Elmer and Buttons were leaning up against the wall, wrapped in each other's arms, Elmer's head pressed tightly into Button's shoulder. Spot, Katherine, and Crutchie were huddled together looking at the body in utter fear, while Romeo clutched desperately at Katherine's sleeve. Race sat against the wall, head in his hands, while Albert looked like he was about to throw up. And Jack had taken Les to the side, trying to calm him down while simultaneously blocking his view of the hallway. Finally, Jojo's attention moved to the center of the crowd, where Skittery lay, pale and lifeless looking. Davey was hunched over him, phone pressed tightly to his ear as he administered CPR. Eliot broke into a jog. "Heya! Ambulance!" All heads turned to them, and Romeo burst into tears. Jojo rushed to join Eliot, who was now crouched next to the body while Davey was profusely thanking the person on the other end of the phone, as Jojo took over CPR. Eliot placed his fingers on Skittery's neck. "Can't find a pulse," Jojo swore under his breath, and for the millionth time that day, felt the panic start to set in, cold as ice. But he couldn't give in, not yet. He continued with compressions, counting along in his head. 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Jojo kept his eyes locked firmly on the ugly, stained carpet, a few paces ahead of him, hoping to god that if he wasn't looking, it wasn't happening. That if he ignored the body long enough, it would become the training dummy he'd spent years practicing on, and not his best friend, his boyfriend. He couldn't look. Because he knew if he did, the looming wave of anxiety and fear would come crashing down, causing him to run the risk of… well, he didn't want to think about that. He had to treat like every other patient. He couldn't look. 1, 2, 3, 4. Focus on the counting. 1, 2, 3, 4. He was dimly aware of Eliot going through the standard questions. "What's his name?" "Does he have any previous or existing health issues? Has he had any drugs or alcohol?" He was readying up an adrenaline shot, holding the needle up to the light, checking the measurement. Jojo could feel the worry pooling in his stomach again, as Eliot held Skittery's arm down, administering the first shot. This would work, it had to. It would work, and Skittery would wake up, and everything would be okay. He bit his lip and blinked away the tears he could feel pricking the back of his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, but was closer to about five minutes, muffled footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Jojo looked up to see four other paramedics half-jogging towards them, chattering away quickly, and staring solemnly ahead. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! Back-up had arrived. Eliot began to fill the other paramedics in as they moved around the body. "How long has resuscitation gone on?" One of the paramedics, with an accent that Jojo couldn't quite put his finger on, asked. Eliot checked his watch. "Fourteen minutes." The paramedic nodded. "Time to break out the defib." Eliot nodded, pulling out a pair of medical shears, and shifted around to remove Skittery's shirt. Kind of a shame really, that was his favourite, it brought out his eyes. Jojo paused as Eliot snipped the last of the cloth away, and the other paramedics placed the pads on Skittery's chest. "When was the last adrenaline shot?" One of them spoke up. "Two minutes ago." She nodded. "Okay, tell me when a minute's passed and I'll give him another." "Will do." Eliot shot her a thumbs up. Jojo went back to compressions; now that other paramedics were here, he felt somewhat calmer. There was a small shout from behind them, as the specialist paramedic arrived, Jojo let out a sigh of relief, there was someone else to take charge now. He could deny it all he wanted, but he was absolutely drained, and seeing someone who was going to take the reins, seemed to only make him more tired. The specialist paramedic dropped to his knees. "Has he been shocked yet?" "No, we're just about to give him a second adrenaline shot," Eliot replied, looking up at the paramedic from earlier. "Minutes up." The specialist placed a hand against Skittery's neck. "No pulse, give him that second shot, then we'll shock him." Eliot held Skittery's arm down as the needle was inserted into the crease if his elbow and the specialist paramedic moved around to Jojo's side. "You doing okay there?" he asked. "I can take over compressions if you want, you look like you need a rest." Jojo swallowed the lump in his throat that was starting to form again, and nodded wearily. The specialist counted down from three, then swiftly swapped places with him. Jojo stood up, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and shook out his arms, his legs felt like jelly and as he stood up, the hallway spun. He staggered his way over to one of the other paramedics, who was checking over Spot and Katherine, with a hand placed comfortingly on Katherine's shoulder. Jojo shot him a nod as a greeting. "Need help with anything?" The paramedic glanced around, sizing up the room. "There are a few more people to check over, so far no one's got anything major, they're just distressed. Start with the two over there." He nodded towards the wall where Race and Albert sat. Jojo pressed his lips together in a sharp line, biting back his worry, and made his way across the hall. He could hear the defibrillator charging as the other five paramedics surrounded Skittery. As he reached his friends, Jojo could clearly see tears in Race's eyes, while Albert bounced nervously on his heels, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak when- "What's happening?" Albert blurted. "No one's giving me answers, but god, Jo, I need to know." Jojo chewed on his lip, willing his voice not to quiver, as he prepared his most professional answer. He sucked in a deep breath. "At this stage, Skittery is in cardiac arrest. We're not quite sure what's caused it, possibly a seizure or an undiagnosed medical issue, but that's the hospital's job, we're just here to stabilize him." His words hung thickly in the air, and Race nodded slightly, trying to suppress the tears that were beginning to slide down his face. Jojo put a hand on his arm comfortingly. "Right now," he spoke quietly, looking into Race's eyes. "I need to make sure everyone else is safe." Race sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Jojo scanned over the both of them, looking for any obvious physical signs of shock. Both looked relatively fine, Race seemed a little more pale than usual, but that was to be expected, while Albert was still bouncing. "Do either of you feel sick, or like you're gonna pass out?" Albert gave a soft 'no', but Race scrunched his face up and made a so-so gesture. Jojo turned to him. "Okay, do you think you could sit down for a sec?" he nodded and slowly slid down the wall, bracing himself on Jojo's arm, while he looked around for another paramedic. Not like that should've been hard, there were six others. Jojo glanced up and made eye contact with the lady with the cool accent, and nodded towards the blood pressure monitor, lying a few paces away. She spoke quickly to the man beside her and slid backward, away from Skittery. She grabbed the monitor and walked quickly towards Jojo. She passed it over and gave him a look of offered help, which Jojo turned down with a small flick of his hand and a smile. Race's grip on his arm started to tighten and Jojo turned to him with furrowed brows. He was breathing heavier now, and beads of sweat had begun to form around his hairline. "You feelin' dizzy?" Jojo quizzed, cocking his head to the side. "Y- yeah, a little." He was starting to pant now and Jojo delicately moved Race's arm to place the cuff on him, starting to coach him through breathing exercises. Jojo could hear that the defibrillator had now fully charged, and his nerves started to act up again. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing with Race. "Clear!" Jojo flinched as the sound of the shock rippled through the crowded hall, and he felt Race stiffen beside him. "It's alright," he coaxed. "He's gonna be just fine." Race gave a shaky nod and rubbed his hands nervously over his jeans. Jojo could hear the faint whining of the defibrillator charging again, and busied himself with checking Race's blood pressure. "Okay, you're gonna feel a slight squeeze.." he turned to watch the monitor as Albert grabbed Race's free hand. Jojo squinted at the screen "one-forty-two over ninety-one." He turned to face the pair. "It's a little high, but I'm sure that when all this," he paused, gesturing wildly around, "is over, you'll be fine." He delicately removed the cuff from Race's arm. "I'm gonna stay and do some more breathing exercises with you for a few more minutes, and just make sure everything goes smoothly." "Thanks." Race mumbled, staring down into his lap. Jojo nodded. "Clear!" Another shock resonated through the hall, and Jojo silently bit his lip, focusing on breathing in sync with Race. "Pulse!" came a cry from across the hall. "We have a pulse!" Jojo let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Race rested his head against the wall, looking up into the burning fluorescent lights, tears of relief falling rapidly down his cheeks. Jojo gave the tiniest smile and shook himself out. "See?" he gave Race a small nudge. "Told ya everything was gonna be okay." He whispered, more to comfort himself than Race, who sniffled and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, shooting back a smile of his own. Jojo looked over to Albert who was wiping away tears of his own. "D'ya mind grabbing him a glass of water?" Jojo quizzed, nodding towards Race. "Yeah," he rubbed his hands across his face. "I'll be right back." One of the other paramedics was removing the electrode pads while Eliot was gathering the equipment together. Jojo made eye contact with him and motioned to the rest of the mess. 'need any help?' he mouthed. Eliot waved his hand dismissively. 'get back to your patient, I'm fine.' Albert had returned with the water, that Race was gripping with unsteady hands. He rose the glass to his lips when- "Oi!” "Hey! Hey!" "Ah, shit!" without warning, commotion rose from across the hall. Jojo's head snapped in the direction of the noise, and Race's cup clattered to the floor as he sat bolt upright. Skittery was flat-lining. Jojo felt all the air leave his lungs. Just when everything seemed to be looking up, of course it just had to crash and burn. Of course. The icy claws of terror clutched at his heart, sending shards of frost through his veins, the scene in front of him swimming in and out of focus. Bile rose in his throat and Jojo fought to keep his dinner down. He could hear the electrocardiogram wailing in the background mixed with the muffled cries of Race who had buried his face in his hands. Jojo couldn't take it a second longer and choked on a sob as his own tears spilled down his cheeks. Through watery eyes, he watched Eliot start on CPR again, as the defibrillator was brought back out. The paramedic who Jojo had been helping out was now supporting Romeo who looked as if he was about to lose consciousness, while shooting glances between Jojo and the group around Skittery. All previous breathing exercises flew out the window as Race began hyperventilating again. Jojo tried to swallow the lump in his throat and turned to him, and shakily croaked a few words to try and calm him down. "Skittery's-s gonna be okay." He hiccupped. Race just shook his head as Albert knelt down beside him. Jojo grabbed his hand as the whining ECG continued flat-lining, and the defibrillator charged once more. Albert rubbed his thumb comfortingly over the back of Race's hand, silent tears rolling down his face. "Clear!" Jojo flinched. The charging resumed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Skittery's face. "Clear!" He blinked away tears as Skittery seized again. More high-pitched whining. He sobbed while Race buried his face in Jojo's shoulder. "Clear!" He couldn't breathe, the walls felt like they were closing in on him, and Jojo dug his nails into his palm. He whimpered and screwed his eyes shut, trying to block all the horrible thoughts swirling around his head, tormenting him. The sharp, clawing sounds that rung in his ears, making his pulse pound like a drum through his head. Jojo gasped, struggling desperately for air, and oh god the room was spinning, and his vision was going dark, and Skittery was to make it, he had to make it, because that's how it was supposed to go. People would be in danger, Jojo and Eliot would show up and work their magic, and their patient would get up like nothing was wrong.... But now.. it was quiet, the silence tearing Jojo out of his own head. Why was it quiet? It shouldn't be quiet! There was no more charging hums, no more "Clears!", no more vital sign checks, just the choked, twisted sobs of his friends, and the incessant cry of the flat-lining heart monitor. He looked up, scanning the room frantically. Eliot was wrapping up the ECG again, meeting Jojo's eyes, he shook his head softly. Elmer lifted his head, glancing over to Skittery, and yelped as if he'd been punched in the face, before squishing his face back into Buttons' shoulder. "No." Jojo whispered. "No, no, no, no, no!" he shook his head and fell to his knees. Race was scream-sobbing into Albert's chest, who was slowly rocking him side to side, biting his lip, trying to hold back a flurry of tears. But despite the cries of anguish, the only thing Jojo could hear was a sharp buzzing that rung in his ears. No! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Skittery had to pull through. He-he had to! Cause Jojo didn't know what he'd do without him! How could he keep going about his day-to-day life? How could he come home from a long shift, and walk through his door to silence? To an empty house? An empty bed? He couldn't! So Skittery had to be okay, this was just some wild nightmare he was about to wake up from, wrapped in Skittery's arms, and he was going to be okay. Jojo took a deep, slow breath, and closed his eyes. 3…2…1… open. He was still there. His heart plummeted. Why was he still here? He shut his eyes tight again, 3…2…1… open! Jojo swore under his breath, his heart racing now. He was still kneeling on the stained carpeted floor of the hallway, Skittery's pale body lying deathly still, just ahead of him. He opened his mouth to cry out, but he couldn't make a sound. it felt like he was suffocating, stuck to the small, sticky, square of matted rug, unable to move or breathe. Jojo clawed at the ground desperately trying to pull himself from the nightmare in front of him. Skittery's face was tilted up towards the ceiling, glazed over eyes rolled back in his head. Jojo took a deep breath, gathering all his strength, and hauled himself to his feet. Dragging one foot in front of the other, he staggered his way over to his boyfriend. Grabbing Skittery's hand, Jojo fell to his knees. "No.. c'mon, please!" His shaking hand still fit perfectly in Skittery's cold one. He ran his other hand through Skittery's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead, hot tears splattering onto his cheeks. "…Please." By now, the ECG had been packed away as well. The deafening silence rang through the hallway, only broken by the quiet shuffling of his colleagues packing up, or the intermittent sobs of his friends. Jojo clutched at Skittery's hand desperately. He was faintly aware of the Specialist Paramedic flicking his wrist over. "…please.." his eyes were blurred with tears, and he brushed his hand through Skittery's hair again. He heard the Specialist suck in a breath, as Jojo pressed one more kiss to Skittery's head. "Time of death, two forty-three am."

--- @orollyitsracetrackhiggins @all-the-lovely-newsies (thanks for helping me pick the ship, and sorry for not giving you your happy ending :p) probably doesn’t live up to the expectation, but :ppp

#death tw #needle mention tw #newsies #jojo de la guerra #skittery #jittery #please tell me if I need to tag anything else #hope yall enjoy my 3am nonsense #sorry for my shitty spelling punctuation and grammar #:pp

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advernia · 4 years

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the world in her heart, her heart in his hands

assorted sidenotes for the fic i made in response to an anon-sent aesthetic prompt! oooh boy, i sure took long on this one lmao...... _(:3 」∠)_

prompt #7: steady notes coming from a guitar nearby, fireflies dancing around the clearing, two sleeping bags close together, and a bright full moon briefly covered by a cloud.

so the core idea i had when i saw that prompt got requested was based on jonah’s say i do! route: he says that one day, he wanted to go to the land of reason + see the place alice was born and raised. tbh idk how the prompt even led me to that, but the imagery vibes i got from the prompt hinted of something like freedom. or something like lovers secretly meeting in the woods, which i sort of went by.

OKAY SO I SWEAR I FINISHED WRITING THE PROMPT (day zero!!!) EARLY (by my standards) LMAO.............. like, maybe a week after i got the ask or so? but then when i went about proofreading it i felt that it was... lacking??? i can’t explain it myself, but i didn’t wanna post it yet until i got that feeling cleared out - i tried revising + adding, but it didn’t help so i just started thinking about expanding the fic instead...

thinking about the scenes really took longer than i thought?!?!?! i wanted this request up early but i was stumped on what kind of scenes i wanted to see + how their lengths were gonna be.... plus i was thinking if i should go solely on narration + description........ or maybe more of dialogue...... then i jumped to holy shit what’s my timeline gonna be what cultural whatnot am i gonna emphasize and i think i fussed over those aspects rather than picturing the actual scenes LMAOOO.......................

great disclaimer: i have NEVER stepped into the uk..... or england + london for that matter ahahaha GET REKT tho i want to someday huehuehue....... i heavily relied my research on maps + history websites + train timetables to help me get through the touring parts so do forgive me if i messed up somewhere + butchered history haha..... i was thinking to make things vague, but since i’m always in for emphasizing the differences between cradle + land of reason, i decided to get a little technical with it......

i have to admit that i wrote most of the fic during breaks in work hELLA RAD........... i’m doing my job properly, i swear........ it’s just that when i already have a stable idea of what i want to happen, the scene becomes clearer in my mind. i wanted so! badly! to add scenes of jonah pronouncing words and looking at various things funny!!! jonah and his attempts to communicate with londoners!!! fussy jonah poking around a boutique, him being fascinated + studying displays of gun shops, or him accidentally offending the royal guard + constables LMAOOOOO but i couldn’t seem to write anything satisfactory involving those ideas........... ಥ_ಥ

back to the issue of timeline, i was picturing the london in this fic to be around the 1860s or smth.... but then i remembered that in edgar’s dramatic end letter, he mentions his fascination with electricity aka lightbulbs......... which were, like...... discovered early 1800s but only became common in 1882 ahahaha....... when i realized this i was already writing day 18 oOOPS so i just decided to go on and wing it I’M SORRY _(:3 」∠)_

on timeframe, i know that it’s very highly unlikely that jonah would take a vacation for two months. i bet the mere concept of a one-month vacation is enough to give him a heart attack LMAOOOO but let’s just say that red army told him to take his time in the land of reason, especially when they learn that jonah plans to formally meet alice’s parents. when he hears about this, lancelot tosses in the suggestion of proposing to alice while they’re in the land of reason, so that jonah can tell her parents about that too. jonah thinks it’s a fantastic idea..... so he decides to accept hot damn, a two month vacation!

whole route & lengths of stay (points streaked with red are mentioned within the fic minus nottingham whoops sorry):

london [16 days bc IT’S A BIG CITY LMAO (day 30 - 14). rides a morning train going to bristol on the 14th, arrives there midday.]

bristol [5 days (day 14 - 9). leaves bristol on the morning of the 9th to walk all the way to glastonbury, arrives there come late afternoon / evening.]

glastonbury [4 days (day 9 - 5). leaves midday of the 5th to walk their way to alice’s village, arrives there around sunset.]

alice’s village / ‘actual wonderland’ lmao [5 days (day 5 - 0). located somewhere in between bridgwater, taunton, and glastonbury. month 1 of vacation has ended.]

day log commentary!

thirty. arrival in the land of reason through falling - routes where alice does go back don’t feature her falling down london’s sky, so maybe she’s just... spit out from the hole????? idk haha so i altered it anyway!!!!! the landing scene was initially like this: jonah lands first, he catches alice in his arms, they banter a bit....... and then they suddenly remember the suitcase only for said object to fall right on jonah’s head LMAOOO....... it’s a cradle magical object that looks like a regular suitcase but will always be as light as a feather despite it’s contents + it has GREAT CAPACITY so jonah is actually okay!!!!!! i decided to scrap that scene concept though haha!

twenty-nine. does the hole to the land of reason only open around midnight or smth???? i’m sure it doesn’t, but i went with jonah + alice leaving cradle minutes before twelve o’clock, so when they arrive in london jonah gets to see the big ben signal midnight. is that planned on alice’s part? maybe. on another note, i’m assuming that a high-ranking officer + noble like jonah is definitely used to traveling to other countries so he’s definitely not one for homesickness, but i like the thought of him always feeling all sorts of uncomfortable on his first nights away from home - he doesn’t make a big deal about it bc he gets better three days in or so. idk, it just seems fitting for someone very particular like him.

twenty-seven. if luka’s hair is fucking dyed, my god (no wonder i found those light ends of his hair sorta funny), then here’s jonah excuse to adapt another hair color with the help of magic crystals LMAO - i always stick with a reality ensues standpoint, so his ikeman looks aside, i’m sure londoners would find jonah’s hair color (heck, maybe even his eye color) very unique. alice can’t deal with all that sudden attention lol but she somewhat proud that the man who has effortlessly captured the attention of the people of her world too is the man she proudly calls her lover ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

twenty-three. now that i think of it, what exactly does cradle mean when they say the land of reason? are they simply referring to the city of london, or earth as a whole??? most likely the latter, but i’m pretty sure no one except blanc (and possibly ray bc that globe in his room lol) know exactly how large the land of reason is. anyway, not gonna lie, i wanted jonah + alice talking about novels by maybe the likes of charles dickens, thomas hardy, george eliot or h.g. wells. heck, maybe jane austen and charlotte bronte too!!!! but i had to scrap that bc gaps in understanding cultural & historical references + use of language, figurative and non-figurative.... it’s a shame about the last two though - i’m sure jonah can somehow probably relate to the society depicted in their books since the red territory sounds like your typical breeding place of victorian era nobles lmao!!!!

eighteen. sometimes when people learn / gain a deeper understanding about new things, they have the urge to brag about said knowledge to others - of course jonah wants to show alice what he knows about her world so far haha! calling a train a mechanical beast tho lmao..... he refers to it that way, but i think it’s his target of fascination in london!!! noise and possibly environmental issues aside, it’s very convenient + efficient and can cater to all, but what he finds most impressive that it’s a man-made locomotive!!! that’s something worth incredible praise!!! ( ᐛ )و

fourteen. actual train ride!!! hmmm.... i think jonah only panics maybe a good thirty minutes in when the train starts moving??? alice tries to calm him down by pointing at the passing scenery out the window + idle chatter until jonah finally relaxes himself.... but then he starts to panic slightly again when alice suggests that they look around the train and he’s like: is that even remotely safe??? what about our baggages, can we leave them unattended??? hey, i saw you snicker - how dare you laugh at me!!!

nine. according to google, an estimate of a walk starting from bristol going to glastonbury is 8h 25min. that’s for the present time though - would’ve it been shorter or longer in the past??? idk, but definitely one’s pace during the walk affects the total time, lol. since railroads only started out around 1830s + i made alice a village girl, walking really is her way to go. pedestrianism was still a thing around the 19th century!!! her stamina in other routes tho lol (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)

six. here’s my self-indulgent thing of wanting to add a dance scene, pt. 1 LMAOOOO - the steps in the scene aren’t really from a certain folk dance in england, much less from glastonbury itself... i did look up on england folk dances, but i couldn’t pick one that i wanted to incorporate into the scene so i went with describing some random steps on the top of my head _(:3 」∠)_ ..... maybe someday, i’ll write a proper one..... on another note though, i suppose jonah can adapt quickly to folk dances, but he may come off a bit stiff at first in line / column dances where there’s the switch of partners??? i mean, there are formal 19th century dances that have that same concept, but.... the finesse + personal boundaries are all there lmao - he’s not against the casual intimacy + show of obvious joy in folk + common dances though, it’s just more of that he’s not used to the informality of it all, i think.

five. plot twist: alice does lead jonah to her home, the cottage on a hill like she always described, but what he doesn’t expect is when she solemnly says that she’d introduce him to her parents she leads him to the back of the hill and in the foot of the hill he finds himself staring at her parents’ gravestones as she’s smiling sadly with a bouquet of flowers in her hand OH WAIT WRONG GENRE WASN’T THIS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFF LMAO - kidding aside, i do hope cybird catches onto the idea of a story event of chosen suitor going to the land of reason with alice to meet her parents or smth!!! they did do a travel event in the jp ver, after all.... but i’m not keeping my hopes up haha....... _(:3 」∠)_

zero. self-indulgent thing of wanting to add a dance scene, pt. 2 - tho it’s in the latter part along with the prompt lmao!!! hmmm, i’m pretty satisfied with how this one turned out tho i had a little problem arranging the first half - the rest i relatively left untouched even after i added the rest of the days to the fic. hopefully, does well as a nice end to the fic itself..... tbh, the thought of summer dress alice + casual shirt & pants jonah both barefoot & running around like children in moonlit woods (don’t do this in real life folks) made me smile a lot. give me more soft-and-not-so-tooth-rotting-fluff scenes, cybird

also!!! since the prompt involved a guitar, i had a certain track on repeat lmao - you can listen to it here, and it’s the second to the last track titled umibe ni yurete (swaying in the beach)! (ノ^∇^)

and that’s all that i’ve got today!!! thank you very much for reading + hope you’re staying safe & well wherever you are!!!!（｡≧◇≦）ﾉ

#rundown.txt #u know what else took me so long to decide on this fic #a title + summary LMAOOOO #i wanted the title to be something related to the prompt but.... so much for that orz #i usually have no problems making them up but #why was this a struGGLE LOLOL

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 5 years

Text

13 Queliot recs 2/4

give a little time to me by @wanderingmargo and @coldwaughtersquentin

So I don’t mind telling you that I am a simple girl, and I tend to sort my fic by rating; if I wanted to watch them *not fuck,* I have television. But occasionally I wander into a T-rated story, and this one is genuinely beautiful, if you have the stomach for a certain amount of lifelike sadness. It’s a fake-dating story, but because they’re visiting Quentin’s dying father, it’s not by any means a romp -- just a story about witnessing a parent’s terminal illness, and about the soft, blurry line between being loved and being in love. It really stuck with me.

“Nothing’s ever going to fix this, Eliot.” He hadn’t even realized he’d opened his mouth to respond until he’d said it. They’d been here less than an hour, and he had to keep it together. Eliot was doing enough

.He glanced up as Eliot moved further into his space, wishing he’d just stopped talking — ever, really. Before he'd freaked out about his father’s half-packed office. Before they’d arrived to find his dad visibly sicker than he’d been two weeks ago. Before he’d told his dad he was definitely dating his best friend.

But Eliot was his best friend. He was sometimes arrogant and occasionally mean and always the most stylish person in the room. He was gorgeous, and vain, and thoughtful, and extremely protective of the people he’d latched on to. And, somehow, Quentin was one of those people.

Which meant that when he caught his eye, Eliot wasn’t looking at him with disgust or frustration, but with an understanding that nearly cut Quentin off at the knees.

I Need You So Much Closer by @orchardsinsnow

Okay, maybe it’s my age showing, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE stories about revisiting old relationships from an older-and-wiser place and finding that the core of the thing is still there under all the mistakes. Like, ugh, if you do that story right, I will *lap it up,* and this story is maybe the best I’ve ever read of its type. It’s an AU, with indie rockstar/recovering alcoholic Eliot and professor Quentin, and it’s just exquisite in its balance of nostalgia and hope and regret and trying again while knowing that it isn’t really again, you’re meeting each other new in so many ways. Just from a technical perspective, it’s also masterful in the way it deals out backstory slowly, piece by piece in an organic way that lets you draw the layers back and form a picture of the past as well as the present -- seriously, backstory is *really damn hard,* and this is just on point at every single moment. I don’t know if this is my favorite of these stories, but it’s probably the one that got the purest, strongest emotional response from me. Just read it, seriously.

Something small bursts inside Eliot’s chest. This disastrous nerd. “I’m just happy I’ll get to see you. I’m looking forward to hearing all about what’s going on with you, including your firsthand experience with the tantalizing ritualized blending of private property.”

“Yeah, well. We have a lot to catch up on. We can hash it out over. You know.” Meaning: a drink, if you must.

“We’ll hash it out over seltzer water.” Meaning: not the type of drink you remember me (I’m sorry) enjoying overly well (really sorry)

.“Oh?” Meaning: are you fucking goddamn serious, the thing I waited wished begged hoped prayed smashed our life to pieces over, that thing? You did the thing?

“Yeah. Four years.” Four years, two months, one week, and five days. (Wish it was seven years. Really sorry.)

“Eliot,” Quentin says, “Good for you.” His voice is half whisper, half broken gasp. Eliot knows to take encouragement when it’s offered, whether or not he feels he needs it, and this reaction from Quentin is a thing he wishes he could wrap his arms around and squeeze until it’s inside his heart, a nugget of diamond.

if being him is who you are by @ameliajessica

This is an unusual outsider-POV, and a bit of a gut-punch. It’s from the perspective of Mike in a world with no Beast in it, which means he’s just a guy -- the hapless guy that Eliot is trying to be happy with, and -- not doing a great job of it. Mike thinks he can kind of ride out this whole Quentin thing, and obviously, yeah, not so much. The ending is inevitable but kind of heart-wrenching anyway, although not tragic -- I think Mike’s takeaway is basically “don’t date younger guys, they are emotional trainwrecks,” and you know, solid lesson, really. Anyway, I like the way the tone threads that needle between witty and sad; that’s kind of my jam in general, and it’s hard to find it done really right.

So he does what any worried boyfriend does for his sexually fluid beau. He asks Eliot if he’d like to have a threesome.

“Oh,” Eliot says slowly, biting down on Mike’s lip. Interested. Good, that makes Mike less nervous about the next part.

“With Quentin.”

It’s almost comical. Eliot halts altogether, jerking back to meet Mike’s eyes. It hurts - his teeth still on Mike’s lip. And fucking Christ, Eliot looks like a kid caught with his hand halfway down the cookie jar. “You… you want to sleep with Q?”

“Don’t you?” he counters, harsher than he means to, then course-corrects, petting Eliot’s hair.

#queliot fic #queliot recs #the magicians

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she-is-tim · 5 years

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I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch.13

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.

Minute by minute

Lucas was in the flat, laughing his ass off on the couch as he watched Mika, Lisa and Manon trying to play twister. They were suffering here for hours now, Lucas even posted a hilarious photo on instagram. They always switched places on the couch, since they couldn’t let Lucas be the one who spins all night. He was having a lot of fun, drinking some beer while watching his flatmates getting their limbs intertwined with not much hope to get them free anytime soon. He noticed that his phone was buzzing in his pocket, so he put down his beer, checking who texted him. He started to breathe faster as he opened the message. It was a picture, a screenshot of an instagram post.

sofalaoui I don’t know what’s up with him, but Eliott just posted this

Lucas got up from the couch so fast, he almost stumbled over his flatmates. He grabbed the armchair and trying not to fall over. The others looked at him confused. His chest started to hurt like hell, eyes filling up with tears. He didn’t have time to explain, so he just ran to the door, putting on his jacket and his shoes, then he left with his keys in his hands.

As he was sitting on the bus, he decided to text Lucille, he wanted to make sure that Eliott was okay. He needed information about him, anything. He could feel his heartbeats thumping in his ears, making it impossible for him to listen to the sounds around him. When he recieved a text, he almost jumped in his seat. He was on his nerves, worrying about his boyfriend more than anything.

From Lucille He is fine, sleeping on the couch, why are you asking?

To Lucille Can I have some alone time with him? I’m heading to his place now

From Lucille Sure, I’ll be waiting for you, then I’ll go out and watch a movie

To Lucille Thank you

The bus ride seemed like an eternity to Lucas. He was extremely nervous, trying to plan what to say or do when he meets Eliott again. He had to be convincing, he had to do something serious. His boyfriend, because he still wanted to think of him like that needed to know that no matter what happens, Lucas is not going to leave him, that he will stay with him.

When the bus finally reached the right stop, he basically jumped off, running towards the building where Eliott was living. He couldn’t stop himself, he felt like he had to hurry, even if Eliott was safe. Everything happened so fast on saturday and sunday, he wanted to just hug him and whisper kind things into his ears.

As he got to the place, Lucille was waiting outside with a soft smile on her face. She was wearing a long, grey coat. Lucas remembered seeing that on her when he thought she was Eliott’s girlfriend back then. She looked stunning, like always, wearing just a small amount of makeup, her hair was curly and shiny. Unlike the boy who was now sweaty and exhausted, barely catching his breath. And even if he was disgusting, the girl pulled him into a soft hug, which almost made him cry. He hugged back, wrapping one arm around her waist.

“I’m so happy to see you.” Lucille said honestly and Lucas tightened his arm around her.

“I’m happy too.” he mumbled and let her go now.

“You can go up, the door is open. He’s sleeping on the couch, not sure when he’s going to wake up, but be patient with him. He was really grumpy and moody in the last few days.” she explained and kissed the boy on the cheek. “See you.” she chimed and walked away.

Lucas took a deep breath and entered the building, climbing up on the stairs to the third floor. He was nervous as he stood in front of that so familiar door. So many things happened to him here, so many good memories. He slowly opened it, walking inside as quietly as possible and closing the door behind himself. He took off his shoes and his jacket, walking to the living room. He felt like someone punched the air out of his lungs when he saw the tall boy laying on the couch, sleeping somewhat peacefully.

He looked pale and the living room smelled like weed. The first thing that catched his eye were the drawings on the coffee table. He gasped, walking closer and picking up one. It was a hedgehog playing the piano. He grabbed another which showed a crying hedgehog in a hotel room. He looked at the sleeping boy with a painful expression. He was thinking about Lucas all this time, drawing him in different situations, but mostly almost being sad and that broke his heart. He didn’t wanted Eliott to think that he was sad because of what happened.

He knelt down next to the couch and stroked Eliott’s hair gently. He only moved a little to this, but didn’t wake up, which get out of Lucas a relieved sigh. He didn’t know if he could form any decent sentence or even speak to this gorgeous human being. He was so perfect, even with that growing stubble on his face and the dark circles around his eyes. It was almost painful how much he missed to see those steel blue eyes, all the feelings Eliott could press into one intense stare.

He looked behind now, at the piano next to the bookshelf and had an idea. He found a nice piece of music not so long ago that he was practicing in the common room. He actually planned to play it for Eliott, since it was called I love you. Yes, a bit cheesy, but also kinda romantic, and his boyfriend was a sucker for romantic shit. He got up now, looking for the music sheet on his phone. When he finally found it, he walked to the piano, placing his phone down with the sheet opened on it. He opened the lid and ran his fingers through the keys, enjoying their coldness. It was such a long ago since he touched this piano, but now it was the time.

He took a deep breath and started to play, sometimes glancing at the sheet to make sure he’s playing the right notes in the right order. He totally got into the tune, moving his body only slightly to the music as he kept going and going, until he started to reach the end. When the piece was done, he turned around and was just a tiny bit shocked by the fack that Eliott was staring at him. His eyes were beautiful, just like he remembered. His face was pale, but he still looked like a fucking model. Lucas swallowed and let a smile appear on his face.

“You know what this music is called?” he asked softly, avoiding the awkward greeting and “How are you” stuff,just straight to the point.

“No.” Eliot murmured, voice sounding still sleepy and he even rubbed his eyes, which was inface, very cute. “Could you tell me?” he asked and the softness in his voice was melting the short boy’s heart. He loved to hear Eliott talking to him like this, it was like nothing happened between them.

“It’s called I love you.” he said proudly, turning fully around on the bench now to face Eliott. His cheeks started to heat up now as he tried to continue with his plan. He hoped that he won’t get rejected. “You know why I played this piece?” he asked softly and saw the nervousness on the other’s face. He tried to keep calm and not freaking out. He have to keep going with this and pour out his heart to this wonderful person in front of him. When Eliott shook his head, he took a deep breath and looked down at his hands on his lap, then back at the tall boy. “Because I love you.” he finally said it, a soft smile crawling its way on his face. He saw that Eliott was tearing up and all he just wanted was to run over there and pull him into a tight hug.

“I love you too.” he whispered now and Lucas couldn’t believe his ears. His smile quickly turned into a happy grin, tears rolling down on his cheeks. Then in the next moment he gasped as Eliott picked him up, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He laughed a little and grabbed his shirt, pulling him even closer, burying his face into the warm chest, taking in the smell he missed so damn much.

They were standing there for long minutes just hugging each other, crying and giggling at the same time, but then Eliott pulled back, stroking Lucas’ hair softly. There was a sad smile on his face which made the short boy feel something not really good in his stomach.

“Listen, Lucas... I think this can’t work between us.” he started and the boy looked at him in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“I know what I just said... and what you said... but these feelings might not last forever.” he mumbled, locking his eyes at the floor. “But my bipolarity is something that is not gonna go away... it’s something you have to deal with and to be honest, I don’t want you to have to handle it.” he continued and now looked at Lucas, eyes red, ready to cry at anytime. “I want you to have a happy life, with someone who’s not gonna yell at you or ran off naked at any point. Someone you don’t have to worry about all day, someone who is able to look out for you and not needing help.” he finished now, breathing heavily through his nose, trying to read the expressions on the boy’s face. Lucas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A lots of emotions were running through his brain at this exact moment, but he just took a step forward, placing his hands on Eliott’s cheeks, looking straight into his eyes.

“Listen here, bad things might happen and yeah, I might get sad or angry... but you are not the only one who will yell or try to close things out. I have a lot of flaws.” he said and smiled a little. “I even punched you in the face, Eliott. And you still decided to stick with me. You have no idea how happy you made me with that.” he said softly, leaning his forehead on the other’s. “You can upset me, scare me or make me cry, I don’t give a shit. I rather feel all that, than live my life without you.”

Eliott was quiet and Lucas would give everything to know what is going on inside his head. He wanted him to feel good, to feel loved and he had no intentions to become his babysitter. Of course, he was worried, scared and wanted to protect him, but on the top of all, he just wanted to make him happy, love him unconditionally. He felt his heart skipping a beat when a soft smile appeared on Eliott’s face. His own face lit up to that and cupped the other’s cheeks softly.

“We don’t have to take big steps.” He whispered softly into the space between their lips. “We can do it day by day.” he continued and his smile grew bigger. “No, I think we should do it minute by minute.” he said now proudly and rubbed their noses together. “Minute by minute, okay?”

“Minute by minute...” Eliott softly whispered and closed his eyes, nodding his head just a little. “Okay, I can do that.” he sighed.

“You know what are we doing in the next minute?” Lucas asked, softly rubbing away a tear with his thumb that started to roll down on his boyfriend’s face. Eliott shook his head slowly and the boy leant closer. “We’re going to kiss.”

And so they did. Eliott wrapped his arms around Lucas’ waist, pulling him close as their lips met. It ws slow first, searching, like they were kissing for the first time. The short boy ran his fingers into Eliott’s wild locks, grabbing on them, making him let out a groan. He used this opportunity to deepend the kiss, sliding his tongue inside, playing with Eliott’s. Things got sloppy and wild pretty quickly, hands grabbing everywhere, teeth bashing into teeth making them laugh between kisses.

When they were out of breath, they decided to just get on the couch and rest for a little. Lucas sit at the end, so Eliott could lay down, resting his head on his lap, which was just super cute. They were like this for a while when Lucas grabbed his phone and took a picture of Eliott.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice slightly sleepy.

“I wanna post it on instagram.” he explained with a wide smile, hoping that his boyfriend is not going to protest. And he didn’t, he just chuckled and shook his head a little, but then started to shower Lucas’ palm with kisses that was resting on his face since a while now. The short boy chuckled and enjoyed this a lot.

Eliott smiled like an idiot, still laying on the couch with Lucas. He obviously unblocked the boy both on insta and in his contacts. When he saw the new post he was incredibly happy and just couldn’t stop smiling. And he thought he was the hopelessly romantic one out of the two of them. Turns out Lucas is also going for that title with much success.

“I’m staying here with you.” Lucas said suddenly, looking down at the boy, caressing his cheek softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” he smiled now and leant down to place a gentle kiss on the other’s forehead. Eliott let out a soft giggle and he reached up to touch his boyfriend’s face.

“I don’t want you to go either.” he said smiling. Lucas smirked and kissed his fingertips before reaching for his phone again. Eliott shot him a confused look. “You wanna take another picture?”

“No, I’m going to text your sister.” he smirked and opened his chat with Lucille, typing a quick message.

To Lucille Is it possible that you leave us alone for a couple days? Pretty please

From Lucille Sure, I’ll go to a hotel. No big deal

To Lucille Thank you so much

From Lucille Just make him happy, that’s all that matters to me

To Lucille And to me too

Somewhere around the evening Eliott decided that he’s feeling well enough to make dinner for both of them. Lucas tried to talk him down, convince that they can also order some takeout, but he was so determined there was no point in trying to stop him. So he followed his boyfriend to the kitchen and sat up on the table, just like he always used to, so he won’t be feeling so small. He watched Eliott in his sweatpants, black shirt and hoodie preparing some vegetables, cutting some potatoes. It was endearing to see him like this, they haven’t been in this kitchen together since a long time now and Lucas missed moments like this.

It took him not more than thirty minutes to put together a nice dish with steamed chicken breast, some vegetables and mashed potatoes. Lucas’ stomach was growling just by smelling it which made his boyfriend laugh. He put the food on two plates, walking to the table and giving the short boy a kiss before he got off and sat down on one of the chairs instead. Everything was so calm and perfect, like there weren’t a week long pause in their relationship. And it was good like this, because they belonged together.

“This is really delicious.” Lucas smiled softly and stroked his boyfriend’s arm. They were sitting close enough that their knees were touching, making both of them feel safe and comfortable.

“I told you I can cook.” Eliott said proudly and grabbed the boy’s hand, placing a soft kiss on it. “I would do anything for you.”

“I would do anything for you too.” Lucas smiled softly and ran his fingers over Eliott’s soft lips. The boy smiled and grabbed his index finger with his teeth, licking the tip slowly before letting it go. The short boy felt his face heating up, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from his boyfriend.

“I love you.” Eliott whispered, pulling him closer by the waist until he was sitting on his lap. Lucas smiled happily, placing himself into a comfortable position and wrapping his arms around the other’s neck.

“I love you too.” he said happily and gave his boyfriend a soft peck on the lips, then he kissed hs jaw, his cheek, his nose. “So many things I love about you.”

“Tell me, please.” Eliott started and smiled softly at his boyfriend’s confused look. “Tell me when did you know you fell in love.” he asked, finger caressing the skinunder Lucas’ shirt. He sighed and knocked his forehead to Eliott’s, closing his eyes, trying to think about the answer. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment when he felt like “Yes, this is the one I wanna live the rest of my life with”. And he felt like he knew the answer.

“When I saw you in the common room, when we painted the wall together.” he explained and opened his eyes, smiling brightly at him. “I think that was the moment when I realized how deep my feelings were. How much I loved you.” he said, softly caressing the other’s cheeks. “And I had no doubts since then, my feelings are stronger than ever.” he finished and gave a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips, who was now smiling like an idiot.

“Maybe that common room is the symbol of our love then.” he said when their lips parted. “Because I fell for you when I saw you playing the piano there.” his voice was soft, like warm honey, making the short boy feel tiny butterflies in his stomach. “I had a crush on your for a while, but both because of my bipolarity and my fear of relationships, I was being mean to you...” he admitted, which actually made sense now that Lucas was thinking back to it. Sometimes Eliott was annoying or even a real asshole, other times he was flirty and soft.

“Yeah, I remember that you laughed at me in first year when I slipped on ice in the school yard and called me a “clumsy idiot”.” he said smirking and enjoyed to see his boyfriend’s face turning a little pale.

“Yeah... that was a shitty thing to say.” he admitted and looked away. Lucas chuckled and kissed his cheek a couple times to get his attention back.

“Hey, that was a long time ago, I am not gonna bring up things like that again, okay?” he whispered softly, keeping his lips close to Eliott’s as the boy turned back and looked into his eyes. “We are together now and that’s the only thing that matters.” he said with a soft, reassuring smile.

“Do you think there are a Lucas and Eliott who weren’t as dumb as we? That they maybe got together right in first year.” he asked curiously, running his fingers through the short boy’s hair. Lucas chuckled as he thought about it, he totally loved how from his silly idea, the parallel universes became their thing.

“I’m pretty sure there is a Lucas No.635 who saw his Eliott on the school halls one day and thought to himself “Woah, that is one really attractive human being.” he said smirking and kissed the other’s lips gently. “What about Eliott No.795?” Lucas asked softly, enjoying this silly talk a lot.

“Hm...” Eliott was patting his index finger to his lips as he was thinking and then smiled. “Eliott No.795 transfered to school for his third year, after some inconveniences he had in his previous school. On his first day he felt like everyone was watching him, the mysterious new guy. Then he entered the school and a group of boys passed by him, one of them bumped into him, making Eliott to turn away. Then he saw Lucas No.837 talking to his friends with so much enthusiasm that he didn’t even notice that someone bumped into him. And Eliott just watched him until he was out of sight.” he told his little story with so much confidence and fondness, that Lucas just wanted to kiss him until one of them passes out. Instead he just cupped his face, placing soft kisses all around his face, making the tall boy giggle and damn if that wasn’t the cutest thing he had ever heard.

Lucas is smirking at his phone and then back at Eliott. They are now sitting in the armchair, well, the tall boy is sitting there and Lucas is on his lap, resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest. Eliott posted the picture a while ago now, but he still kept getting notifications from it. They thought it will be funny and the short boy almost melted when he saw the caption. His boy was so damn romantic and he loved it.

“So, I am the love of your life?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. They haven’t talked since an hour now, just sitting there quietly, enjoying each other’s presence. Eliott glanced at him from under his beautiful eyelashes with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Of course you are. Who else would be?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

“I don’t know.” Lucas pretended to be dumb. “Shouldn’t it be someone you are with since years now?” he asked playfully, tracing little circles on his boyfriend’s chest over his shirt.

“I don’t have to be with him for years to know that he is the one.” Eliott replied with so much confidence it made the short boy blush. “I might even marry him at some point.” he whispered into his ear now that sent shivers down Lucas’ spine. He gasped and looked into those steel blue eyes, seeing that this time Eliott wasn’t rambling or joking.

“You think he would say yes?” he asked with a playful smirk, sliding his hand up into the tall boy’s messy hair. Eliott blinked at him surprised a couple times before he let out a soft, heartfelt laugh.

“I really hope so, otherwise I wouldn’t know what to do.” he said smiling and kissed Lucas’ forehead gently. “And I really think he would look beautiful in a white suit.” he added, hands roaming around the short boy’s waist, wandering under the soft material of his shirt. Lucas let out a soft sigh, burying his face into the crook of Eliott’s neck, taking in his smell.

It was so good to be back here, not just in this apartment, but in his boyfriend’s arms, knowing that he loves him back, that he called him the love of his life. So unreal and at the same time the most real thing he ever experienced at the same time. All the soft touches, the kind words, hearing Eliott laughing and seeing his smile made him happier than ever. After so much suffering they’ve been through together, all that time apart, agonizing days and wondering what to do, it all faded away after each kiss they shared. Lucille once told him that there will be bad days, days when they will feel like it’s never going to end, but all of it will be worth to get through when the better days follow them. And she was right. Lucas wanted to capture these happy moments and put them into a jar, saving it forever.

Long fingers dragged him out of his thoughts as they started to tickle his sides under the shirt. He tried to suppress his laugh by burying his face into Eliott’s shoulder, but as he didn’t seem to stop anytime, he just grabbed the boy’s biceps, laughing loudly and fidgeting in his lap, trying to get away from the tickling fingers. Eliott seemed to enjoy this, letting his hands run up and down on his boyfriend’s sides, then he just stopped the tickling, starting to pull up the shirt slowly. Lucas was wiping the tears away he had because of all the laughing and let out a surprised squeak as the tall boy forced him to raise his arms so he could take off the shirt and throw it on the floor.

“Much better.” he mumbled, pressing his lips on the short boy’s chest, kissing it gently. Lucas could feel his skin heat up where his mouth touched him, but also felt his cheeks burning. They haven’t done anything like this since the hotel, and he couldn’t deny the fact that his body was craving for it. To feel Eliott’s skin on his, the tender kisses and to hear his moaning.

“Eliott...” the name just came off his tongue so much more erotically than he wanted it to, but hearing the boy’s satisfied groan resonating on his chest made him excited. His long fingers were circling over the waistband of his pants, stopping over the button, while his lips wandered up through Lucas’ neck towards his ear, biting his earlobe.

“Can I?” he was basically moaning into his ear and even if he wanted to say no, which was unlikely to happen, he wouldn’t be able to. Not when his boyfriend sounded like an animal in heat.

“Yeah...” that was all he could force out, feeling a soft cloud taking over his mind, making it impossible for him to think straight. But who would want to think when there’s a hot guy trying to take off your pants?

Eliott smirked and within a few seconds, he was pulling off the short boy’s pants, throwing it to the floor next to the shirt. Now he was sitting on his lap with only his underwear on. He turned his body to be face to face with his handsome boyfriend, knees resting to the arms of the armchair. Their smirked at each other before they started to make out wildly. Hands wandering everywhere on their bodies, searching, grabbing, scratching. Lucas pulled Eliott’s hair just a little, making him groan which sent shiver through his whole body. He slid his tongue between the boy’s parted lips, inviting his to a wild and wet dance. He could feel the bulge on Eliott’s crotch growing, rubbing against his own hardness. It was almost infuriating how the boy under him was still fully dressed. So he let his arms roam on the soft, warm torso down to his waist, pulling up his shirt slowly. He could see the cocky smile on Eliott’s face as he pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. Then they continued kissing.

After long, sweet moment of making out, they finally got to the point where even Eliott couldn’t bear that he still had his pants on, so with some struggles and Lucas’ help they got rid of it without getting up from the armchair. The short boy moaned into his boyfriend’s mouth as their crotches rubbed against each other only being separated by the thin material of their boxers. Suddenly they were both aware of what was about to happen, so Eliott looked into the boy’s eyes, hands grabbing his waist gently. Lucas felt the clouds disappear from his mind, leaving more space to his thoughts about the handsome boy in front of him.

“You sure you want this?” Eliott asked carefully, looking up and down on Lucas, while licking his lips. He was clearly ready to go further with this and the short boy smirked at that, it was good to see how much this guy wanted him. Him, out of all those people out there.

“I want you more than anything, Eliott.” he whispered, their lips just an inch away from each other. “I am all yours, my soul, my heart and my whole body.” he continued, fingers sliding up to cup the tall boy’s cheeks as he gave him a tender kiss on the lips. “You have to deal with the consequences.” he finished smirking, biting Eliott’s bottom lip playfully.

“Fuck, Lucas...” he groaned and his hands slid down, grabbing the boy’s butt wildly. He let out a soft whimper, but was still smiling happily. “I will never let you go.” he whispered into his mouth before kissing him with such passion that Lucas felt like he sucked out all the oxygen from his lungs. He wrapped his arms around Eliott’s neck, ready to continue this to the very end.

Lucas was laying in bed, smirking at his phone. He only got out of bed to check out on Eliott and he happened to take a paparazzi photo of him while he was shaving. He had to post it out, because it was just a cute moment and of course he had to show off his boyfriend. Now he could understand why was the tall boy so obsessed with posting about them on insta, it was addictive.

Now his boyfriend was back in bed with him, resting his head on Lucas’ shoulder as he checked his phone. He laughed at the instagram post, looking up at his soft boy, kissing his jawline a few times before he started typing a comment. Lucas rolled his eyes when he saw it and playfully bit Eliott’s nose, who let out a surprised squeak. That was so cute.

“So, you’re stalking me in the bathroom now?” he asked, squinting his eyes a little. Lucas smiled and played with his hair now, eyes locked on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, I guess you had no idea what you have to deal with when you agreed on being with me.” he winked at him smirking.

“That is my line.” he said pouting, like actually pouting. The audacity this damn boy has, Lucas couldn’t believe it, so instead he just leant down, locking their lips together in a soft, loving kiss. He could get used to being like this forever, staying in bed with Eliott, kissing, complimenting each other.

Okay, guys! I think this could be the end, BUT if you all want one more chapter of domestic Elu content with some sweet insta posts, let me know and I will start writing it. Also hit me up with AU ideas if you feel like it. I have one in mind, but I still need to work on the details and I might get inspiration from all of you! Also make sure to give me your opinions on this chapter. I LOVED to write it and I LOVE all of your from the bottom of my heart

#Skam France #I love hating you #Elu enemies to lovers au #Eliott Demaury #lucas lallemant #eliott x lucas #Elu

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samscns-blog · 5 years

Text

* 𝖎𝖋 ur ready to two step into some absolute BULLSHIT tomfoolery , ya girl 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 is ready for u with my lil firecrotch son , 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓 . strong silent type , ABSOLUTE buffoon , barely keeping it together so hopefully by the time we’re done w him he’s still in something resembling one piece :’) all my love to u and u cute asses ! i’m so excited to get this all poppin !

⋆ ╰ another year at hollingsworth , another year of the big six rivalry . i hear that SAMSON MAILOTO is ensuring SIGMA ALPHA NU gets a solid pledge class and stays at the top of the ranks . oh , you’re not familiar with HIM ? SAM is the KJ APA look alike from THE BRONX , NEW YORK . a part of PC ‘16 , he is majoring in KINESIOLOGY and has plans to ENTER THE MMA AND ESCAPE FROM THE PUBLIC EYE after undergrad . it makes sense they pledged their house , their PHLEGMATIC & SOLICITOUS attributes make them perfect matches . however , their TREPIDATIOUS & AUSTERE attributes keep their name alive on greek rank . if you don’t catch them dancing to BLEACH - BROCKHAMPTON at a fraternity band party this year , you’ll be sure to catch them nursing their morning hangover at THE SNU HOUSE . cheers to another wild semester !

⋆ ╰ 𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑻 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 𝑰 𝑪 𝑺 .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : samson ioaleki mailoto

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 : sam , sammy

𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 / 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : february 4 , twenty

𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : aquarius

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cismale identifying with he / him / his pronouns

𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : heteroflexible and pansexual ; he’s never actively considered himself as lgbtq+ but has also never given it much thought ddjdjdjdkjdk

𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : kinesiology major at hu , aspiring welterweight mma fighter , us olympic representitive for men’s boxing in the 2020 olympics

𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 : gryffindor

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 : eliot alder from mr robot , kylo ren from the new star wars series , detective elliot stabler from law and order svu , steve rogers from the mcu

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 : - trepidatious , austere , apprehensive , hesitant , antisocial , hostile , bellicose .

+ phlegmatic , solicitous , benevolent , rational , stalwart , loyal , reliable , optimistic .

𝑃𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑇 located here !

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑻 𝑬 𝑪 𝑬 𝑫 𝑬 𝑵 𝑻 .

bullet points for the win bc who has time for all the tomfoolery i could spew from my ass !

sammy’s mom was a housekeeper in upper manhattan for some fancy dancy homes who needed their gold toilet seat covers sanitized 3x a day , u know the type 🙄

samson grew up in a run down apartment in a small samoan community in the bronx and has always been a lil antisocial weirdo since those warm dark eyes came into the light . he rlly minded his own business n wasn’t really curious about literally anything besides running and wrestling w his cousins . his mom struggled to keep him fed and housed and dressed and worked relentless hours but never left sam needing anything , a literal fucking legend of a woman and he’s proud to carry her last name !

sammy always felt the weight of never wanting to be an extra burden to his mother and learned to really be self-sufficient , likely explaining his satisfaction with being so alone

he vaguely remembers the night his life changed in middle school , the hushed strained whisper from the living room , he’s your god damned son too , think about him for once in your fucking life . it hit like a fucking train once the story picked up , 5 time nfl superbowl champ father to secret love child . think arnold schwarznegger’s secret son level scandal ! suddenly his shithead of a dead is trying to salvage his image , fighting for split custody arrangements , telling the press how much in child support he payed , anything to save his ass

this is the first time samson remembers being fueled by rage in his life , as a relatively well-tempered child , the injustice of having this near-stranger try to be a “ DAD ” to him while shitting all over his mother’s name made his fucking blood boil and becomes a theme for his future

he spends the next chapters of his life going to the fancy private schools in new york his dad picks for him and tearing his tie off on the ratty bus ride into the bronx to go home to his mom . he hates having to haul ass back and forth , wishing he could stay with the only family he’s actually given a shit about , but bears it for the sake of not causing his mom any more torment . his father is as awful as could be imagined , and samson hates every second of existing with him , the snarky little comments at school and in the ritzy wealthy circles that make him feel more of a black sheep than he ever asked to be

this becomes the root of his anxiety , bearing the weight of the world’s expectations on his young shoulders and repressing his own needs and desires as a result . he goes into every sport imaginable , his father’s DNA being increasingly difficult to deny , but finds a particular talent with fighting and takes on as many fighting styles as he’s able to master

turning 18 should mean freedom for sam , but nothing is ever as simple as he could ask in his life . in order to keep the child support payments that admittedly help keep his mother afloat , his father asks one more thing of samson : hold off on his pro mma dreams for just a little longer in order to attend his alma matter , hollingsworth university , as a publicity move and then he’ll be out of sam’s life in every way except financially . with the dream of completing college like his mom always aspired for him , sam agreed and went on to appease the man one last time , joining his former fraternity to sweeten the deal ( and secure a lovely brownstone in his childhood neighborhood signed in his mother’s name ) and is a year out from graduating and letting mma be the only reason his name would ever appear in the tabloids .

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝒀 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺 .

personality wise , i describe sam as the stupid bitch w big npc energy , if u want him to talk u gotta talk to him first and even then he might just give u that hostile stare and just .. . . remain silent KSDFSDF

he’s about as NOT a people person as physically possible , would really be content just sticking to his inner circle for like the rest of his life without concern . he seems like this rude stand-offish dick but the truth is he’s PAINFULLY SHY and has a p severe case of generalized anxiety disorder so interactions ? w new ppl ? are a HARD pass

did i mention he’s on steriods bc that def adds to his anxiety and hostility ! lmao ! he started juicing in high school when his dad kept pressuring him for football and how he was “ twice your size ” at that age , n he HATES the dude but he’s also lowkey insecure abt his lack of a father figure so ? used daddy’s money to start his first cycle and pay off to test clean and now he’s been hooked on and off . he’s currently starting a new cycle to bulk up for the new season and prep for the 2020 olympics but swears he wont be on them forever :/

they make him SUPER aggressive when set off , it’s a decent thing that sam’s so monotone and shy that he’s also pretty laid back and kinda hard to rile up . he really doesn’t take much personally and won’t do a huge “ chest pumped bro lets do this ” show bc he ? thinks all those guys who do that are tools LMAO but find the right button to push n he’ll become the very thing he despises !

if u can get past the literal awkward silence and resting bitch face , sammy is actually really well known for being just a generally decent guy . the perception is often that he’s a dick bc he think’s he’s better than a lot of ppl , but the truth is he’s just too nervous to start conversations n most ppl assume its an ego thing vs a “ i’m about to piss myself thinking abt all the ways this convo can go wrong so i’ll just not talk and glare @ u instead ” thing

if he had his shit together he would definitely qualify as a dad type , but since he doesn’t , he won’t SSHSHSHSH but he’s really just a softie deep down , he has a stupid as HELL sense of humor and is really objective and level headed . the gryffindor in him is DEEPLY loyal , like to the death , but he’s got lots of hufflepuff in the sense that he’s really willing to get his hands dirty to help those in need . u need help moving ? someone to keep u company while u babysit ? feel nervous walking alone after class at night ? sammy might leave u on read if u text him bc he’s a Dumb Bitch like that but he’ll show up on the dot , hands in pockets , exactly where u asked him to be ready to do what u asked him to do . the mans is a super hard worker

he def still feels kinda weird at uni ? he’s p smart but some of the classes unrelated to athletics and anatomy have given him a REALLY tough time ( dance appreciation for his fine arts credit almost tanked his gpa LMAO ) and he’s not top of his class or anything but ppl still try to talk to him bc of the whole “ famous dad , future olympian ” thing , which he can pick up from a mile a way and makes him super uncomfortable . even being in a frat w a bunch of old money rich boys makes him DEF feel like the odd one out , and he’s just counting down the days until he’s OUT OF HERE

in conclusion : i love u all . lets suffer together . :~)

#rank:intro #love u all sm :' (#i'll have emmy's done tomorrow i hope !

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all-things-skam · 5 years

Note

hiii. for the prompt thing, I'd love it if u wrote 11 or 12. idk if it was requested already but,,,.

Please continue to sent requests from this list of prompt!

11. “If we were in a movie, this is where we’d kiss.”

12. “Enough beer for you. You’re drunk.”

Title: I wanted it to be you

Ship: Skam France | Lucas Lallemant and Eliot Demaury (Elu)

It was barely 10pm and Lucas was beyond drunk.

Now that he and the boys had joined Daphné’s foyer, they were forced to come to dumb events like this Valentine’s Day ‘party’ which was beyond boring. At least, on Lucas’s side.

Arthur had found a cute brunette to exchange saliva with and Basil at the buffet table, desperately trying to get Daphné’s attention. Poor Basile, he’ll never get her…

That left Lucas with Yann. The latter had found a way to sneak beer in, making the night more interesting. Until Yann abandoned him for some blonde he intended hooking up, leaving him alone with Chloé. Chloé who was his ‘valentine’ as she called it. Chloé who Lucas didn’t want to dance with although he had told her he would. Chloé who kept getting in between him and Eliott.

Eliott.

Lucas’s lips curved at the thought of the blue eyes brunet with soft, messy hair - he hadn’t touched them yet but, they looked very soft. And he smelled good. So good. He was handsome too. Very handsome. And-

“- Lucas, are you listening to me?”

“Uh?”

Chloé let out a breath, sighing. “I was saying, we should go take pictures in the photo booth.”

Lucas wrinkled his nose but let her pull him to the photo booth. Chloé instructed Lucas to go in first and sat on his lap without even asking just as Bruno Mars’s Just the Way You Are started playing.

The first click went off and Lucas squinted at the bright light, making him see colorful dots afterwards. He sat there as Chloé smiled bright and kissed Lucas’s cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark on his skin.

After the photobooth, Lucas announced he was going to the bathroom. By 'bathroom’, Lucas meant the janitor’s closet who was right next to the boys bathroom, aka where Yann had hidden his backpack - who was filled with beers.

“It’s the sixth time,” Chloé pointed, annoyed. “Can’t it wait?”

“I have a very small bladder…”

Lucas exited the foyer. He dragged his feet on the floor, trying to waste as much time possible, dreading to return inside. The music was bad - too pop for his taste -, the punch was too fruity and Chloé- Don’t get him started on her.

Honestly, he’d rather spend the night in the janitor’s closet, downing beers by himself than at the foyer with the rest fo the group. Lucas got inside the janitor’s closet, took one beer out of Yann’s backpack and pulled the pin, opening the can. He took one large gulp and was hit with a need to pee. Lucky for him, it was right next door.

Lucas put his beer on the sink and did his business, humming to some tune. He finished and when to the sink to wash his hands, catching his reflection in the mirror while doing so. His eyes were droopy from the alcohol and he had a lips stain on his right cheek. Lucas smiled sadly to himself. He looked like shit.

He wiped his cheek, smearing the lipstick mark Chloé left there. Why do girls do this? It takes forever to wipe off and, even then, you can still see it. He pulled his eyebrows in frustration, rubbing furiously at his cheek, knocking his beer down in the way.

“Shit.” Lucas put the can back up, frowning at the spilled beer on the counter and dripping down the floor. He lifted his beer up, wiggling it around to check how much there was left in before drinking the remnant of his beer.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Lucas lifted his eyes, catching Eliott in the mirror’s reflection. He was wearing a button up and a pink bowtie, following perfectly Daphné’s red and pink dress code.

“I’m not hiding.”

“Tell that to your valentine.” Lucas gave him a puzzled look. “Chloé.”

“Oh.”

“Where did you get this?” Eliott asked, nodding at the beer.

Lucas grinned. “It’s a secret.”

Eliott pulled a thick cylinder from behind his ear, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll share my joint with you if you give me one.”

Lucas brought Eliott to his secret stash, taking two beers out and handing one to Eliott, almost tripping on some stray broom.

''Careful,'' Eliott warned, grabbing Lucas's arm to steady him before he could fall. He looked around and noticed all the empty cans on the floor. ''How many did you have?''

He was at his fourth beer...or, was it his fifth? Lucas shrugged. He lost count after Yann left him.

Eliott plucked the beer can from Lucas's hold.

''Hey! Give that back!'' He reached for the beer but Eliott held it higher. Sucks to be short, uh?

''Enough beer for you. You’re drunk.''

''I'm not drunk!'' Lucas protested.

''Is that so? How many fingers am I holding up right now?'' Eliott asked, lifting all five.

Lucas squinted his eyes, concentrating. ''Erm...three? No, four! Ugh, can you stop moving them? I can't count.''

''That's it, you're drunk. I'll take you home.''

All the alcohol Lucas had consumed kicked in during the bus ride. His eyes felt heavier and he almost fell asleep with his cheek against the window. How cute.

When they reached their stop, Eliott made Lucas lean on him to prevent him from falling on the sidewalk. With a little of struggle, they made it to Lucas's shared apartment and into his bedroom without any casualties.

Eliott turned on the small lamp on the nightstand and instructed Lucas to sit on the bed and take off his shoes. He did as told, slowly pulling at his laces while Eliott fetched him glass of water, knowing he would need it when he wakes up.

''Can you take off your jeans and jacket too? You'll sleep better without them.''

Lucas pulled at his jeans, trying to take them off and whined when it didn't work. Seeing his struggle, Eliott chuckled and went to his side, helping out of his clothes and placing them neatly on his desk chair, leaving Lucas in his tee shirt and boxers. Free of any constricting items of clothing, Lucas got in bed, sliding under his grey comforter.

Eliott tucked him and a content smile spread on the intoxicated boy, sinking deeper into his soft pillow. ''Can you stay with me for a bit?''

The request took the brunet by surprise but he nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, right by Lucas. ''Yeah. Sure.''

From his position, Lucas had a perfect view of Eliott's face. His bushy, perfectly shaped eyebrow. His warm blue eyes. The slight hump on the bridge of the nose. And, even his five o'clock shadow.

His beauty was unsettling.

Eliott reached to tuck a piece of hair behind Lucas's ear and Lucas smiled softly, flicking his gaze up to meet Eliott's. ''If we were in a movie, this is where we’d kiss.''

It was the first time Lucas ever flirted or hinted his interest for Eliott and, you know what they say: drunk words are sober thoughts.

Eliott chuckled. ''Sorry to crash your plan: we're not going to kiss.''

''You don't like me?'' Lucas asked, looking as if he was about to cry. Drunk Lucas is very sensitive.

The brunet shook his head, running his hand through Lucas's hair. ''No. No, that's not- I don't kiss drunk people.''

''Will you kiss me in the morning? When I'm not longer drunk?''

''If you still want me to: yes.''

''Okay.'' Lucas closed his eyes, eyelids too heavy to stay open. ''What time is it?'' he asked with a soft yawn, making Eliott smile fondly.

''Almost midnight,'' he replied, checking on his phone.

Lucas scooted back on his mattress, lifted his blanket and patted the empty space. Getting the message, Eliott undressed to his boxers and slide in beside the younger boy after turning off the lamp.

Instantly, Lucas cuddled to his side, small arms finding their way around his middle.

''You know,'' said quietly, nuzzling into Eliott's bare chest. ''I didn't want Chloé to be my valentine tonight. I wanted it to be you.''

#elu #elu fic #lucas x eliott #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #skam #skamfr #skam france

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nancywheelxr · 5 years

Text

The Welters Challenge ( @thewelterschallenge ) | Week 1: The Library

under renovations and other spells ( read on AO3 )

They’re all reconvening in the Conference Room.

It’s not the first time they’re all together after defeating both Everett and the Monsters, it’s not even the first time they’re all together after Eliot’s been checked out of the hospital, but it’s definitely the first time they’ve been back in the Library.

Quentin isn’t sure how to feel.

To be fair, that might have more to do with the fact that Alice is sitting primly at the head of the table, a name tag pinned on her shirt. In front of her in the table, there’s a coffee cup in a coaster.

or, Alice calls a meeting to decide on the fate of the Library, sort of. It goes better than Quentin expects.

They’re all reconvening in the Conference Room.

Quentin isn’t sure how to feel.

She catches him looking at the cup, smiles something that looks kinda like a grimace, “drinks are allowed in administrative zones,” she explains, and with a wave of her hand and weave of her fingers, identical coffee cups on identical coasters appear in front of them. “Just make sure to dispose of them before re-entering the archives.”

“Uh,” says Quentin, which, by the way, is a totally valid response.

“Can I trade this for something alcoholic, maybe?” Eliot asks, frowning disdainfully at his cup, but sighs in defeat under the twin withering glares from both Quentin and Margo. Pain medication doesn’t mix well with alcohol and he knows that. “Fine, I suppose I’ll settle for some cream.”

Another wave of Alice’s hand and he hums satisfied.

“So,” Julia taps her fingers on the table top nervously, flinching away from Penny23’s hand when he reaches for hers with an anxious glance at Kady. “What exactly is happening here?”

Kady, sitting at Alice’s right, also with a name tag pinned to her chest– which, again, super weird, in so many levels– clears her throat. “We’re running the Library now.”

“I’m the Head Librarian,” Alice adds with a less grimace-ish smile, “Kady is my advisor.”

“We did not decide on that name,” she protests, glaring at Alice in what looks like a well-practiced argument.

“Hm, can I– just, I have to ask,” Quentin interrupts before they can devolve into arguing, turning to Kady, “is this you, uh, is this you trying to save Penny again? Penny40, I mean– which is cool! We can all, hm, be on board with that! Just, is this it?”

“No!” Kady glares fiercely at him, knocking back her coffee like it’s Scotch, and– okay, yeah, that’s definitely an Irish Coffee. “We talked. No rescue missions, we’re just running the fucking Library.”

“But, the thing with the Hedges?” Josh asks, sipping his coffee, “wasn’t that like, a ticking time bomb or something?”

“We resolved that,” Alice announces, “a while ago, actually. When we stopped hoarding magic?”

“We’re drafting a deal,” Kady translates, her scowl reluctantly fond. It’s the most diplomatic Quentin’s ever seen her, and, again, so weird.

Margo leans back on her chair, smirking. “So we’re taking these bastards down from the inside,” she muses, smirking, “smart. Not as satisfying as burning it to the ground, but I can get behind it.”

As much as Quentin hates, hates, the Library, the thought of destroying so many books doesn’t sit well with him, and a quick glance at Julia tells him she shares his sentiment, if the distressed sound she made is anything to go by.

“No burning anything,” Alice rushes out, half pushing out of her chair, before sitting back down, sheepishly smoothing out her clothes. “And we’re not taking anything down either. I– we are reforming this place.”

“Right,” Margo drawls, winking, “reforming.”

“That’s not– why are you winking? We really are under renovations– there’s, didn’t you see the signs in the hallway?”

“Renovations,” Eliot echoes, also winking, and Quentin clutches his hand under the table to make sure he’s still there, he’s not off to the next world-threatening plan yet.

“No scheming,” Quentin tries to be stern, half-heartedly glaring, but it kind of devolves into a vaguely constipated frown. “You’re not even supposed to be here– the doctor said bed rest, you know.”

“Of course,” he agrees, squeezing Quentin’s hand back, and Quentin should be concerned about the mischievous glint on his eyes, but it’s hard to be worried when all that it brings is a knee-buckling sort of relief and unbridled affection. “I wouldn’t dare think of it.”

“Guys, I mean it,” Alice is still having a one-sided argument with Margo, “we’re not destroying the Library–”

“No offense,” Julia intervenes, gently like she definitely means full offense, “but your track with executive decisions hasn’t exactly been,” she pauses, searching for the right word, “sound.”

“I know,” she looks away, taking a sip of her coffee, and– yup, there’s totally vodka there too. “Which is why I asked Kady to be my Chief Advisor,” she sneaks a grateful smile at Kady, “and all of you, too. This place, all this knowledge– it’s huge. It’s too big for just one person to decide everything, I know this now.”

“That’s why we called you here,” Kady continues, covering Alice’s hand in support, “we want you to be advisors too. Help us keep things fair.”

“You’re proposing we form a council?” Julia’s eyebrows raise higher and higher as she speaks.

“Of sorts,” she allows, “just to keep us from fucking things up too much.”

“Or becoming an authoritarian goddamn fascist organization again?” Margo rolls her eyes, but her expression is pure steel. None of them have forgotten how the Library screwed them over time and time again, and just being here is unnerving enough.

“Or that, yeah,” Alice grimaces for real now, earnestly trying to get her point across, “we’re really trying to do better here.”

Maybe it’s how she looks neither like the old Alice nor her Niffin self, not exactly older, just– grown up. Or maybe it’s just that Quentin really wants to believe things are finally going their way, just enough for this one thing to work out without any world-threatening scenario.

Or, it’s how Kady seems to be weirdly good at balancing out Alice, and the new slightly colorful touches are, well, hopeful.

But whatever the reason, it’s enough. “Okay,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair; it’s getting long again, he’s not sure if he’ll cut it yet. “That’s– okay, let’s give it a shot.”

There’s a murmur of reluctant agreement and Eliot squeezes Quentin’s hand again, and yeah, this could potentially be a really bad decision, and Margo is trading a look with Eliot that’s frankly troubling, but Eliot is alive, and recovering, and holding Quentin’s hand, and Quentin trusts Margo to keep their scheming to a minimum for a while.

“Good,” Alice breathes, “Phyllis will present you your contracts soon, just– thank you.”

No one’s riding off to the sunset in a happily ever after, but no one’s dying and no one’s possessed and this is quite possibly what their best case scenario looks like, so when Alice asks if they a want a tour of the place and Kady teases her about wanting to show off her innovations, Quentin can stay back and help Eliot out of his chair because Margo and Josh have already said yes and Julia is trying to pretend she’s not excited to see all their archives– it’s the closest thing to peace that Quentin could ever dare picture.

Although he has to admit– he didn’t exactly expect it to play out in the Library’s halls.

#the welters library #welters challenge 2019 week 1 #the 2019 welters challenge #the magicians #queliot #alice x kady #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #alice quinn #kady orloff diaz #julia wicker #the magicians tag #queliot tag

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high-queen-margo · 5 years

Text

Just to Bring You Home

Summary: After Margo is attacked in Fillory, Fen convinces her to hire a personal bodyguard. She chooses someone from a world she's been trying to forget. Prompt fill for @mintealesbian on @themagiciansprompts Pairing: Margo/Kady Length: 5,183

Read on AO3

Kady ambled through the halls of Castle Whitespire, popping her head into each room she passed. It seemed awfully empty for an active royal castle, but she’d come as soon as she got the bunny’s message—well, as soon as Julia had relayed it to her after the hungover dead sleep she’d been in.

“Hey,” she called to a man walking the opposite direction down the hall, “do you know where Margo is? She’s not in the throne room. She asked me to come.”

“Oh dear,” the man said. “You haven’t heard? She was attacked early this morning. I’ll escort you to her bedroom.”

“Attacked?” Kady’s heart lurched. There’d been no mention of any danger in the bunny’s message. Maybe she should have taken it more urgently. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” the man said. “The assassination attempt was unsuccessful and the attacker has been detained. The High King is simply recovering.” He stopped at a large, elaborate set of doors with two guards stationed outside. “Here you are, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” Kady said. She pushed the door open to find Margo asleep in bed, the rest of the room empty. Somehow, she hadn’t expected to see this. She’d expected to find Margo bitching about the situation, setting up measures to fortify the castle, figuring out a plan of action while she was undoubtedly unable to perform some of her duties, not…sleeping and vulnerable. Kady didn’t think she’d ever actually seen Margo asleep before.

She didn’t know what to do. Margo had called for her, so maybe she should wake her up, but it had taken her a while to get there. Margo probably needed what rest she could get, anyway.

She sat down on a chair left beside the bed to wait. Margo really did look more peaceful as she slept; her eyebrows had softened, her muscles relaxed, her eyes flitting gently beneath their lids. She could see now why Eliot called her Bambi.

Margo started when she finally opened her eyes and noticed Kady so close to her bed. “Jesus,” she said, “if I’d have known you wanted to give me a heart attack I wouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“Sorry,” Kady said, “I didn’t want to wake you up. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Margo pulled herself up to sit against her pillows. “You can only send so many words with messenger bunnies,” she said. “It’s not like I’m dying. I just have a favor to ask.”

“Okay?”

“Fen is insisting I need a personal guard.” Margo paused. “I know battle magic is your thing, and magic is kind of unreliable right now, but I’ve seen you fight hand-to-hand. You’re strong, you’re skilled, and I know you well enough to trust you won’t try to murder me. I know it’s a big ask, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Kady said.

Margo narrowed her eyes. “That was way too easy. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kady said. “I need to get away from Earth for a while, and here I can do something I’m good at.”

“Perfect,” Margo said. “I’d say you can wait until I’m back on my feet, but Fen’s overbearing ass wants someone with me 24/7 starting yesterday. It’s gonna be pretty boring for a little while, so sorry about that.”

“I don’t really care,” Kady said. “So, what exactly happened today? How did someone manage to pull one over on you?”

“About that,” Margo said. “I won the election in a landslide, but I failed to consider the fact that most of the people who voted against me were…well, humans, who can throw knives with their hands. Sneaky bastard took me by surprise on my way to a summit and caught me twice before I could block it.”

Kady hesitated, then said, “Can I see?” She almost regretted asking—it was a strange request and she had no real reason to want to see the wound—but she was curious.

Margo gave her an odd look, but gingerly pulled her loose nightshirt up to reveal the sutured gashes along her abdomen. Kady impulsively reached out to run her fingers along the unmarked skin beside one of the wounds as she leaned closer to get a better look.

“Damn,” she said, “these look bad.”

“You should have seen them when they were hemorrhaging,” Margo said, tugging her shirt back down. “Totally ruined my dress.”

“This isn’t funny,” Kady said. “I’ve seen people die from wounds like this.”

“Relax,” Margo said, “they took care of all the bleeding before magic ran out. Why is this freaking you out so bad?”

Kady shook her head. Why did it freak her out to think that Margo could have died? It was all hypothetical; she was here, healing, and the threat was gone, and by all accounts she had nothing to worry about even if they were close, and they weren’t. They never had been, and Kady was always just fine with that.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’m just glad you’re okay, I guess.”

Margo hummed. “Thanks, I guess. Now, it’s late, and I don’t normally share a bed with people I’m not sleeping with, but it’s big enough for both of us if you want to get some rest.”

“Is that a good idea?” Kady said, gesturing toward Margo’s wounds. She wasn’t sure she even needed sleep, but it was as good a way to pass time as any. If she’d be working as a bodyguard, she should probably get on a normal sleep schedule anyway.

Margo shrugged. “I’ve seen you passed out in the Cottage lounge enough to know you sleep like a rock. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Kady said. “If you’re sure.”

“I truly couldn’t give less of a shit,” Margo said, but Kady thought she saw a small smile when she stood up to get in on the other side of the bed.

***

Kady woke up before Margo, and the first thing she noticed was the light thrumming in the air she’d become accustomed to detecting since magic came into short supply. She slipped out of the room, asked the guards to tell Margo where she went if she woke up, and began searching the halls for someone she knew. She’d really have to learn the layout of the castle soon if she wanted to stay there.

Fen was in the great hall talking to someone Kady didn’t recognize, and when she saw Kady come in, she waved them away.

“Kady, right?” Fen said. “Margo asked you to guard her?”

“Yeah,” Kady said. “And I am. I just thought I’d let you know some of the magic is back, so your healers can finish working on her when she wakes up.”

“Oh, good,” Fen said. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll send them in shortly.”

“No problem,” Kady said. “And, Fen? Thank you for looking out for her. I’ve lost people I cared about before and I don’t want to lose another.”

“I didn’t know you were so close,” Fen said. “She needs someone like that after Eliot. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’m kind of afraid…”

“What?”

“Margo is smart,” Fen said. “She’s resourceful, and she knows how to defend herself. It just…crossed my mind yesterday that she may have been so unconcerned about getting hurt because she doesn’t care anymore.”

“Because Eliot is gone.” Kady sighed. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Please just make sure she’s safe,” Fen said. “I care about her, but…there’s not a lot I can do to protect her.”

“I will,” Kady said. “I promise.”

***

“Are you sure you’re ready to try another summit?”

Kady snuck a glance in the mirror as Margo changed into one of her elaborate dresses. The scars on her stomach looked years old after the magical healing, though it had only been a month since the attack.

“I’ve been stuck within the castle grounds for way too long and if I have to stay here another minute without getting some goddamn change of scenery I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Kady raised her hands in mock surrender. “It was just a question,” she said. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Not to mention,” Margo continued, gathering a sack of scrolls she’d been studying through the week, “if the Lorians and Fairies don’t settle this little dick-measuring contest of theirs, we’ll be trapped in the middle, and that’s gonna be a huge load of shit I’ll need to clean up myself.”

“Yeah, that would suck,” Kady said.

“Can you go make sure the horses are ready?” Margo said. “The regular ones. We don’t ride the ones who can talk—not on business, anyway.”

“Riding?” Kady said. “As in, out in the open, where you got attacked last time?”

“You’re my bodyguard, not my mother,” Margo said. “Do your job and it should be fine, right?”

Kady sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Then we’re taking a different route than you did before.”

“Whatever. There are a billion of them,” Margo said. She drew one of the scrolls out of the sack and handed it to Kady. “Here’s a map. Take your pick.”

Kady unrolled the map and studied it while Margo fastened a plain black cloak over her dress. It was hard to tell which paths would be best, but she settled on one arcing in the opposite direction from the main road.

Margo’s horse, which Kady didn’t even know she had, was a dapple gray Andalusian mare with an impossibly long mane and tail. She swung up into the saddle with surprisingly practiced ease, and it struck Kady how comfortable Margo was in this world. It was no longer the fantasy world of a children’s book; it was Margo’s world, literally, and it was no wonder she came back here after her best friend died. Kady wondered how long she would have to live here before she considered it home, too.

Kady mounted the black gelding the stable hand had picked out for her and they set off at a brisk trot through the Fillorian backwoods.

“I didn’t know you even knew how to ride,” Kady said.

“I learned after I got here,” Margo said. “The castle staff said a proper queen should know how, so they taught me. It’s faster than a carriage, anyway.” She paused. “When did you learn? You don’t seem the type.”

Kady snorted. “I’m not,” she said. “I had rich kid friends upstate in middle school and they forced me into it every time I came over.”

“Sounds tragic,” Margo said. “That’s not sarcasm, by the way. Little rich kids are the worst. I would know; I was one of them.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

Kady didn’t miss the little smirk Margo gave at the comment before changing the subject.

“I like the route you picked,” Margo said. “We’ll be crossing this bridge over a section of the Burnt River. It’s got a great view; there’s nothing like it on Earth.”

“The Burnt River?” Kady said. “It doesn’t sound that great.”

“It’s a misnomer,” Margo said. “Like Iceland. It sounds ugly, but, well…you’ll see.”

Kady could hear the river long before she could see it. She thought by the volume of the rushing water it had to be right around the corner, but the sound grew louder until she could barely hear Margo’s voice, and only then did the bridge come into view.

While the river itself stretched far below the arched wooden bridge, swathes of land on the opposite cliff hung over the side, coated in vibrant green-orange mosses, water pouring down them in an unbroken glass sheet for as far as Kady could see in either direction. The bridge disappeared into a tunnel carved through the cliff face, where dim light shone from its distant exit.

Margo rode ahead of her onto the bridge and turned around. “See?” she called. “What did I tell you?”

“I mean, I don’t usually care much about the outdoors, but…yeah, this is really something.” Kady’s eyes fell from the waterfall to Margo, whose hair was beginning to collect crystalline drops of water from the spray.

“It’s too bad we can’t stop and take in all the natural beauty or whatever,” Margo said, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. “There’s always shit to do.” She waited a moment, then said, “Well, are you coming or not?”

Kady blinked and tamped down the uncomfortable fullness in her chest as she kicked her horse back into motion. She followed Margo under the waterfall and through the tunnel until they emerged into the open grasslands on the other side.

“Just about another hour before we get there,” Margo said. “By the way, I have no idea how long this meeting will last, so we might have to stay overnight at the encampment. They’ll have food and tents, so we won’t have to deal with hunting ourselves, but it’s not very comfortable. Just a heads up.”

“Will it be safe if other people are staying there?”

“I don’t see why not,” Margo said. “We’re allies. They don’t have any reason to come after me, and they’d never get away with it if they tried.” They rode in silence for a few moments, then she continued, “You know I don’t have angry mobs clamoring to kill me all the time, right? It never happened before last month. I doubt it’ll happen again anytime soon.”

Kady sighed and picked at a bit of flaking leather from her saddle horn. “Look,” she said, “I don’t know much about this place. I don’t even know you as well as I’d like to. I just know you almost died and when I found out, I felt…I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was scared.”

Margo halted her horse in front of Kady. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kady said. “What happened to being in a hurry?”

“Don’t avoid the question. Why were you scared? You’re supposed to be the fearless one.” Margo sat tall in her saddle, staring Kady down with an expression she couldn’t read. She clearly wouldn’t be moving until Kady gave in.

“You’re kidding.” Fearless—sure, it was a mask she tried to wear as often as possible, but she was far from it. She’d been living in fear for as long as she could remember. “You know what?” she said. “I do know. I thought of never seeing you again, and that scared me. I know we barely said a word to each other before I came here, but the moment I found out what happened, I just…couldn’t stand it. Our fucked up little group has been through so much together and I care about you, okay? Maybe more than I thought I did.”

Margo didn’t move; Kady could tell she hadn’t been anticipating that kind of response. Kady herself trembled slightly, gripping the reins in her hands tightly enough that her horse shifted nervously beneath her.

“Kady—”

“We should get going,” Kady said, her voice steeled and distant. She turned her horse back onto the path and kicked him into a canter before Margo could get another word out.

***

The voices of the summit leaders carried through the canvas tent walls, where Kady sat shielded from the glare of the setting sun, whittling a tree branch down to a point. She should have brought something to do; she didn’t have a watch, but the meeting must have been going for hours already. It was hard to hold out hope that they’d make it back to the castle tonight when there was so little daylight left—not that Kady was mentally prepared for the three-hour ride back. Neither of them had spoken much the remainder of the trip there, and she didn’t know how to dissipate the awkwardness.

Kady threw the branch onto a pile of other makeshift spears and ducked out of the tent. The leaders sat around a small table as they talked about delegation and resources, their people milling about the encampment doing God-knows-what. Kady strode toward the table and grabbed a random bottle off of it before returning to the tent.

“Excuse me—”

“Chill,” Margo’s quiet voice said. “It’s fine.”

Kady took a swig from the bottle and grimaced; she wasn’t sure, but she thought it was supposed to be some kind of whiskey, though the flavor was awful. Apparently, Fillorians just didn’t care enough about alcohol to make it taste good, but it would do the trick.

By the time the meeting concluded, night had fallen and the encampment was lit only by oil lamps and candles. Kady’s tent was dark; she lay in her bedroll, unable to fall asleep but unwilling to join the friendly gathering outside after a successful summit. Her head spun from the shitty alcohol, and she didn’t realize anyone had come into the tent until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Kady?” Margo said. “Are you awake?”

Kady almost responded, but she stayed still on her side, her eyes closed. She didn’t want to deal with conversation at the moment; whatever it was Margo wanted, it could wait until morning if it wasn’t urgent.

“Okay,” Margo murmured, “good. I’m sorry I forced you to talk earlier. The truth is, I don’t know how to deal with people caring about me. I thought…I thought Eliot was the only one, maybe Fen, but it’s easy to assume she only cares because I’m the king or because I was Eliot’s friend.” She sighed. “I know it’s kind of fucked up I can only admit this now, but maybe if I do it’ll be easier to say it to your face later. So thank you. For caring about me. And I care about you too.”

Margo squeezed her shoulder once, and then she was gone.

***

Kady didn’t bring up what she’d heard the previous night. She saddled her horse silently, searching her admittedly small repertoire of conversation starters for something she could use to pretend yesterday never happened. She had to scrape the bottom of the barrel as she followed Margo out of the encampment.

“So the summit went well, right?” Kady said.

Margo glanced at her out of the corner of her eye before staring ahead at the path. “If you can call six hours of negotiations that ultimately ended up with an agreement for the exact terms we had before ‘well,’ then yeah,” she said. “It’s fine, though; at least tensions are down. Shouldn’t be any problems between the other nations for a while.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Margo said. “So, um…that was fairy whiskey you took last night. How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Kady said. “The fuck did they put in it?”

“They’ve got different grains in their world. Fucked me up the first time I tried it too, not that it tastes remotely okay to humans anyway.”

“Yeah,” Kady said, “I, uh…probably should have stopped sooner than I did, but. Old habits.”

“For future reference, I can’t defend you every time you take something out from under a fairy’s nose,” Margo said. “Everyone here has a temper out the ass, and that’s coming from me, so be careful.”

“Right,” Kady said. “You’re right. You have enough on your plate; you shouldn’t have to worry about me doing stupid things.”

“It’s whatever,” Margo said. “I’ve just been trapped in a fairy deal I didn’t want before, and if you piss them off they could do a lot worse than give you an impossible choice to make.”

“What deal?” Kady knew Margo had lost her eye to a fairy, but she’d been so busy on the Earth side of things for so long that she never really knew what all had been happening in Fillory.

Margo shook her head. “I got an attitude with the fairies’ ambassador and he lost his damn mind on me. The only way he’d guarantee Eliot’s safety was to agree to something just…awful. And I did it. I’m not proud of it, and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever done, but it was my choice and I have to live with that.” Her voice shook almost imperceptibly and she turned away from Kady. “It didn’t even buy him that much time.”

“Well, whatever it was, I wouldn’t blame you for it,” Kady said. “I’d probably do the same thing. I know how close you were with Eliot; I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through.”

“It’s hard,” Margo said. “God, it’s so hard. I keep thinking he’ll come back somehow, because he always did before, but…I know he won’t this time.”

“I thought we’d be able to get Penny back, too. Our Penny.” Kady sighed. “Sometimes I think magic gives us too much hope.”

Margo snorted and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, you might be on to something.”

“I just can’t bring myself to hate it, though,” Kady said. “It’s the reason Penny is gone, but it’s also the reason I met him. The reason I met Julia. You. If I—”

Kady broke herself off. She searched the woods with her periphery, trying not to turn her head too much.

“If you what?”

“Shh.”

Kady caught another flash of movement to their right. She threw up a shield charm just as an arrow whipped through the trees, then followed it with a carefully aimed magic missile. She held her stance for a moment, waiting for any signs of the attacker, before dismounting her horse and creeping toward the trees. The hollow in the undergrowth where the archer had been waiting was empty, even underneath the small window of a revelation charm.

“Margo,” Kady said. “Go.”

“What? No,” Margo said, sliding out of her saddle. “No way. You’re not staying here alone.”

“Now’s not the time to argue,” Kady murmured, but she didn’t repeat herself. If Margo didn’t want to run, there was no way to make her. She held her hands ready to fire another missile and scanned the trees. “Surrender now if you want to stay alive,” she called.

Another arrow came from the other side of the path in response, and Margo conjured a shield while Kady released the magic missile. This time, she heard the crash of the body hitting tree branches under the force of the spell, but she still found no trace of them when she looked.

“This is bad,” she said. “Watch your back. I think we might be dealing with a traveler.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a man appeared directly in front of Margo, a dagger in his hand. She scarcely managed to conjure another shield before he struck, and his blow glanced off of the magical barrier. Kady felt it then, the magic in the air dwindling to nothing, and Margo’s shield fizzled out.

She’d never moved so fast in her life. She threw herself against Margo, pushing her out of the way, with only her raised arm to block herself from the dagger. She gritted her teeth as the blade carved into her skin and she gathered all of her strength to land a blow of her own to his jaw. He went down, finally, and she stood over his prone body. It wouldn’t be long before he regained consciousness, and then he wouldn’t allow himself to be so easily caught.

Kady knelt down and gripped his head in both hands, then jerked it around until she felt his neck break.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I had to,” Kady said. “When he woke up he’d travel away and then he’d just come back.”

“Yeah, I don’t give a shit about him,” Margo said. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Kady said. “It’s just my arm.” But with the threat gone, pain flooded through her arm and all along her left side, blood coating her hand and dripping into the dirt.

Margo pulled her cloak off and ripped one of the sleeves off of her dress at the seams. “Here,” she said, “hold your arm out.” Kady did, and Margo pressed the fabric against the wound. “How bad is it?” she said. “Can you tell?”

Kady shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can move my fingers, so that’s probably a good sign.”

“Okay,” Margo said, “can you ride? Maybe I should find a bunny and call for a carriage.”

“It’s fine,” Kady said again. “If that’s not the same guy who attacked you before, we need to keep moving. They’re obviously working in a group.”

She winced as she gripped her horse’s mane in her hand, the pain shooting more forcefully through her, but she pushed it aside to try to pull herself into the saddle. Her strength failed halfway up and she let her right leg fall back to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Margo said.

“I’ll just get up on the other side,” Kady said breathlessly, but she stumbled taking her foot out of the stirrup, and she suddenly felt too weak to walk. She held herself up with her arm over the horse’s back and leaned her forehead against his flank.

“Kady, seriously,” came Margo’s voice again, her voice tinged with concern. “Something’s not right.”

No, Kady thought, it’s not. She felt warmth under her nose, and when she wiped it, her hand came away red.

An arm wrapped around Kady’s waist as Margo took on some of her weight and led her away from the horse.

“Come on,” she said, “you can ride with me. Whitespire’s far enough away there should be magic there and we’ll find out what’s wrong. We just have to get there.”

Margo unbuckled the saddle from her horse and dropped it to the ground before boosting Kady up and climbing on in front of her.

“You can hold on to me, right?”

“Yeah,” Kady said, and wrapped her arms around Margo’s waist. She couldn’t get a grip with her wounded arm, but Margo held the reins in one hand and held Kady’s arms against her with the other as she urged the horse forward.

They fell into a gallop within minutes, and each beat of the horse’s hooves jostled more air out of Kady’s body. Her chest felt thick and heavy, as if she were breathing water, and her head swam with the feeling. Maybe she was drowning, but she could still feel Margo in her arms, so she couldn’t be.

“Kady, are you still okay back there?”

Margo’s voice sounded distant, and Kady wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t gather enough breath for it.

“Kady?”

I’m here, Kady thought.

She leaned against Margo’s back, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

***

Kady woke with a new kind of weight on her chest. She felt okay, really. Her arm stung, but it didn’t radiate through her like before. Her head was clear, if achy. She could breathe. The only thing out of the ordinary was the light pressure above her heart.

Her eyes blurred when she opened them and the room gradually came into focus as she blinked the uncomfortable dryness away. Margo’s room. She recognized the latticed windows and cross-vaulted ceiling, and the scent of Margo’s perfume was almost overpowering.

Margo herself lay curled up into Kady’s side, her head resting on her chest and her arm slung over her stomach. Kady supposed she was asleep. She didn’t know why she did it, but she lifted her hand to run her fingers through Margo’s hair, gently combing and stroking it until Margo shifted under her touch.

Kady had only seen Margo look like this once before: her eyes puffy and red, dried tears on her cheeks. It looked like she’d tried to take her makeup off, but remnants of wet mascara shadowed her eyelids.

“Kady,” Margo breathed. “Thank God.” She gathered Kady into her arms and hugged her as best she could lying down. “Thank God.”

Kady hugged Margo back, and she could feel the smaller girl trembling in her embrace. “What happened?”

Margo sat up and wiped fresh tears out of her eyes. “The blade was poisoned,” she said. “You…you weren’t breathing when we got here. The healers removed the poison but they weren’t sure you would wake up.”

Kady sighed and rubbed her temple. “Poison,” she said. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I should have run,” Margo said. “I should have gone when you told me to. This wouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” Kady said, “I’m glad you didn’t. He would have traveled after you and I wouldn’t have been able to block you when the magic failed.”

“You died!” Margo’s lip quivered. “You died, Kady. I was terrified. I’d rather—”

“Hey…” Kady took Margo’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “It’s okay. This is what I signed on for when I agreed to be your guard.”

Margo sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said. “Listen, I’m not good with the whole…you know…feelings thing, but…” She scoffed and shook her head. “God, this is so stupid.”

“I know,” Kady said. “I’m not good at it either. But, you know…” She took a deep breath. “If this is about last night—the things you said to me last night—I was awake. You don’t have to say it again.”

Margo gave a short laugh. “You think I didn’t know you were awake?”

Kady blinked. “What? But you said—”

“I hoped you were asleep, but I figured you probably weren’t,” Margo said. “Nobody sleeps very well after drinking fairy whiskey. It was just easier to say those things when I knew you wouldn’t say anything back.” She looked down and toyed with a loose thread in the comforter. “No, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. There’s something else I didn’t mention last night.”

“What is it?” Kady asked. She hated the ‘butterflies’ expression, but all she could think was that they were in her chest, and they desperately wanted out.

“I love you.”

Kady froze. She’d never expected those words to come out of Margo’s mouth, not directed toward her. Her first instinct was to deflect—after all, that was all she ever did whenever somebody got close—but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to push this away.

Instead, she sat up and cupped Margo’s cheek in her hand, wiped her tears with her thumb, and kissed her. Margo hesitated for a moment, and then Kady felt her kiss back, pulling her closer with one hand on her neck and one in her hair until their bodies pressed together so firmly that Kady could feel Margo’s heart beat against her chest. Margo bowed her head when they broke apart, and Kady pressed her lips to her forehead.

“So are you really gonna make me say it and not say it back?” Margo said.

Kady laughed and leaned back to look Margo in the eye. A month. She could never have said it to someone after a month before, but maybe she was getting better. Maybe it was something about Margo that made her feel sure enough of herself not to hide.

“I love you, too.”

#the magicians #the magicians fic #margo hanson #kady orloff diaz #battleking #my writing

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junkyardlynx · 5 years

Text

Pt. 5

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

-The Waste Land, T. S. Eliot. (III. The Fire Sermon)

Four cold, slick, and damp walls surrounded Thomas. He lay huddled on the dirty floor, clinging to himself, as if trying to hold everything he was inside of him. Short black hair, matted with mud, sweat and blood stuck to his forehead, The relief that the chilly concrete provided his burning skin was momentary, but it was something. Like a cat seeking affection, he proceeded to grind his cheek and forehead into the wall, a low moan issuing from his searing throat.

Perhaps five meters up lay freedom and he could see sunlight lazily streaming down into the makeshift prison he was in. The walls were meaningless, really. They could have left him in an abandoned field. There was no way that Thomas Jude was going anywhere, after all. He had no strength to move, much less stand, or crawl, or walk, or certainly run.

His entire being was undergoing a sort of rhexis, rupturing and turning inside out. Waves of immense heat washed over him, moment by moment, and the thick droplets of spittle that hung grotesquely from his lips felt more like molten lava. He wept fire, the tears of exertion only adding to his suffering, dripping off his inflamed cheeks and sizzling on the ground. He prayed for a death that he knew would not come. His mind was cast back to the past, seeking refuge from that ever-burning pyre that consumed his insides.

---

He just wanted to be like them.

He wasn’t jealous of their love. He supported it. Time and time again, he tried to push them together, but they were too shy or too hesitant to follow through. It was honestly irritating, he thought. How could they not realize their own feelings? So when it finally started to happen, when they noticed each other as something other than friends, he was overjoyed.

The three stuck together for years - kids knee-deep in the muck and the mire, laughing in shallow creeks and sneaking out to see bad horror movies. If someone had a problem with Jeal, Thom had a problem with them. If someone was creeping on Sarisa? Thomas might make a delivery of earthworms into their backpack, just to send a message. The three were inseparable, and there was only love and friendship to be found.

But then they started to grow apart from him.

He was being left behind.

They disappeared at odd times, sometimes independent of each other but mostly together. This had happened before, of course, and Thomas chalked it up to things like Jeal having those piano lessons with his father or Sarisa learing how to ride that motorcycle she’d gotten for her sixteenth birthday. You know, normal people things. Sometimes he was right.

But he found out, eventually.

Having nothing to do after class on a Friday, Thomas went down to the retro arcade that had just opened. A spot of Terminator 2 Light Gun action felt like the right response to a boring and lonesome afternoon. Awkwardly fishing his wallet out of his jeans as he walked down the road, he started to count his bills as he rounded the corner, only to find something wholly unexpected.

Jeal being attacked by some...guy? A guy wearing some Japanese kabuki theatre mask and swinging a sword. A sword? Does he have a license for that? Shaking his head to sweep away that inane thought, he watched, mesmerized as Jeal evaded every frenzied slash. He looked almost bored, but surely that couldn’t be it. Thomas’ mind froze for one second, then two, and by the time that he began to leap into action, it was over.

It was over because Sarisa had appeared from nowhere, frozen the man’s legs to the ground and kicked him right in the jaw, replete with a wet cracking sound that indicated something had probably broken. He fell over at an awkward angle, his legs still stuck to the ground in a block of ice, leaving him in a very precarious sort of limbo state. With a sigh, Jeal brushed the dirt off his slacks and tucked a length of golden hair behind his ear before jerking his thumb at the attacker, his red eyes cold and hard, colder and harder than Thomas had ever seen them. Sarisa seemed to heave a mocking, exaggerated sigh before freeing the man. Leaving him in the middle of the road, Sarisa had grabbed Jeal’s hand and lead him off, both seeming wholly unconcerned with the entire bizarre fucking situation.

Something came over Thomas in that moment.

He waited a few moments to see if the coast was clear before jogging out into the street and kneeling over the person, the demonic mask having been struck clean and cast off. Their sword was missing, curiously enough. Their face was turned to the side and covered by a black cloth wrap, but long brown hair could be seen peeking out from the sides of the makeshift cover.

“You alright, man?”

The person rolled onto their back to face him, dark honey eyes staring into his own cloudy blues. They wordlessly pulled down the black cloth covering their head before responding with a wordless froth of spittle and blood.

“Not a man, right. Sorry.”

She was striking, even with half of her face swollen and distorted. Catching himself, Thomas stripped off his jacket and placed it under her head as he began to fumble around in his pocket, looking for his cell. He caught himself.

What was he doing? This person tried to kill his friend.

But...

What were his friends doing? And what was that Final Fantasy Blizzaga bullshit?

“I’ll call the poli-”

Thomas found a short blade at his throat, followed by a gentle shake of the woman’s head.

“...no police...”

A soft voice forced itself from her lips and he found himself acquiescing to her demands, tucking his phone back into his pants. He looked around as the sun began to set, the street curiously empty. Looking back down at the woman, Thomas scratched the back of his head almost angrily.

“Guess I’ll take you back to my place. It’s not like I have parents who can tell me no anyway, haha. Hah. Yeah.”

He offered his hand.

He couldn’t quite determine the emotions behind the look on her face, but it was somewhere between pity, empathy and gratitude. Carefully, grabbing onto Thomas’ shoulder, she pulled herself up to her knees, and then her feet. As if forgetting it existed until that moment, the lady bent down painfully to reach for the demonic mask, only to find Thomas handing it to her.

“Wouldn’t wanna forget that, right? Anyway, I’ll get you patched up. In return, you have to tell me about what you were attacked for.”

She only smiled at him, but the smile seemed far away.

#writing #my writing #modern fantasy #magic

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sadlittlenerdking · 5 years

Text

Take Me Away

OPERATION KICK DEPRESSION AND NANOWRIMOS ASS 12 OF 50

Word count: 1,570 (hahahah oops)

Summary: Quentin and Eliot wipe their memories and knowledge of magic for a chance at happiness.

Anon prompted: Queliot -- mind wipe?

They meet in a little coffee shop. It feels set up, when a tall man with curly hair bumps into Quentin, and spills his both of their coffees all over them. Quentin can’t even freak out, beyond staring at the stain seeping through the mans white shirt, and the soft, billowing curls of his hair.

There’s somebody about him that seems familiar. But it doesn’t matter, because the man is freaking out.

“Fuckity fuck fuck!” He spreads his arms--his long, long arms--wide, and shakes off the coffee clinging to his fingertips.

It flies through the air and lands on Quentin’s nose. Quentin stumbles back a step, blinking, but before he can trip over his own feet, because that’s exactly who he is--the man reaches out with those long, lithe arms, and catches him by the wrist with sticky, warm fingers. Quentin blinks up at him blankly.

“Thank you,” He says, somewhat awed.

The man just smirks down at him. “You’re a mess.”

Quentin huffs a laugh out through his nose and nods, shaking his hair from it’s precarious palce tucked behind his ear. “You have no idea,” He says, before kneeling down to pick up their cups. It takes a moment to register that he’s just gotten down on his knees in front of quite possibly the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, but when he it does, he’s pretty sure they can see how red his cheeks are from space.

But the man leans down with napkins he’d probably nicked from the counter, and helps Quentin clean up their mess. He pauses mid sweep of expensive coffee, and looks through the curly bangs of his hair, to quirk the corner of his mouth up and say, “I’m Eliot.” Quentin looks up through his own hair; though he imagines he looks much more manic than dreamy like his counterpart. He blinks up at him, and Eliot shrugs a shoulder. “I thought we should introduce ourselves considering.”

“Considering?”

“We’re going to be taking each others clothes off.”

Quentin chokes on his own spit and sits up to stare at him, wide eyed.

The man--Eliot, god even the name is pretty--tilts his head, and appears to be holding back a laugh. A little chuckle bubbles out when he says, “Dry cleaning. I’ll clean yours, you clean mine.” He sits up on his haunches, resting his hands on his thighs, to examine him. “And if we’re doing that, we may as well just exchange numbers. You know. In case the dry cleaning doesn’t get the coffee out.” He shrugs his shoulder, “Or, in case it does. We could always get coffee--and not spill it all over each other.”

Quentin blanches.

Is the hottest guy in the world, in all worlds probably, flirting with him?

“Are you--”

“Asking you out?” Eliot quirks an eyebrow, “I am. It’d be easier if I knew your name. I doubt I can keep calling you a sexy tornado, like i am in my head.”

“Sexy . . . tornado?”

“You’re a mess. But you’re--”

“Ah.” Quentin clears his throat and nods. “I’m uh, I’m Quentin. Coldwater.”

“A last name? We’re really going places here,” Eliot teases, before leaning forward to swipe up the last of the coffee and stand up. “Like, back to the counter.” He holds his hand out for him, “I need my daily coffee. From the look of it, so do you?”

Quentin swallows thickly and reaches up to take his hand.

He’s pretty sure he imagines the electric shock that stretches between their skin when they touch, but Eliot looks like he’s felt it too. But he doesn’t have a lot of time to think on it, because Eliot pulls him to his feet, and leads him to the counter, barely taking the time to toss their garbage in the trash on the way.

Two months later, a short, brunette woman approaches their usual table at the coffee shop, pulls a chair up and sits down with them.

Eliot blinks at her, then looks at Quentin with a matching look of confusion. He must realize that Quentin has no idea who this woman is, because he turns back to her, and says, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” She says, reaching across the table and grabbing a packet of sugar.

“No,” Eliot says, much slower this time, “We’re sitting here.”

She rolls her eyes, “And now I’m sitting with you.” Neither of them respond so she sighs, squaring her shoulders. “Look here, you fucks; I gave up magic to be here with you, because somehow a life of magic isn’t the same without my two favorite idiots. So, be nice or you get all your bad memories back.” She sneers, though it seems mostly to herself. “If I can convince someone else to cast the spell since I made them erase all knowledge of spells I knew from my mind, like a fucking idiot.”

Eliot looks across the table at Quentin, quirking an eyebrow. He shrugs a shoulder, and Quentin already know to take that as him embracing the insanity.

Which is one of those Eliot traits Quentin’s not sure is one of his best. But without it, he doubts he’d be sitting at this table with him. So he opts to ride the crazy train, too.

“All right,” Eliot says, smiling politely at the woman. “You realize you sound like a lunatic right?”

Which is not . . . where Quentin expected him to take this.

The woman, to her credit, merely grins. Then, ridiculously, she reaches up and pats Eliot’s cheek fondly, like she’s known him all her life, and goes back to pouring sugar in her coffee. “El,” She says, without looking up at him, “You may have given up on magic and all the danger that comes with it, including your memories, but if you try to sit there and pretend you don’t feel like you know me, I might actually risk the internal fire just to try and force a spell back to the surface,” She glances up at him through her eyelashes, “So I can turn you into a fucking frog.” Her eyes dart over to Quentin. “Then we’ll see if True Loves kiss is all it’s cracked out to be.”

Quentin blinks. “Wait--whoa--we, uh, we just--” He breaks off, looking at Eliot, expecting him to join him in telling her that they’ve only been dating for two months, but he’s watching the woman like she’s the most interesting thing in the room.

Which, fair.

But then the corners of his mouth turn upwards. “I don’t know you,” He says, leaning back in his chair, “But I like you.”

She breathes deep through her nose, shaking her head. “I knew i shouldve just come with you two idiots.” She looks over her coffee at Quentin again. “Q, come on. You’ve got to--”

“How do you know our names?”

“Because I’m the one who wiped your minds and helped you set up new lives, nitwit.”

“Hey, don’t talk to him like--”

“Seriously. Neither of you have even the slightest feeling of knowing who I am?” They shake their heads. “Margo. I literally--”

That catches Quentin off guard, and he snaps his neck towards her from where he’d been turning to look at Eliot incredulously. “Margo?” He interrupts, “The letter? That Margo?”

She tilts her head, for once seeming to be the confused one. “Letter?”

Eliot seems just as confused, turning to look at him. “You got a letter from a Margo, too?”

“Not from,” Quentin replies without looking away from her, “About.”

Margo falls back in her chair. “Well now I’m confused,” She says, clapping her hands together and then dropping them in her lap. It triggers a bit of deja vu from something--something Quentin can’t quite catch. “I didn’t write any letters.”

“My friend--my old friend, I guess. Julia,” he furrows his brow with a shake of his head, “She said I can’t forget Margo, because ‘she can only be stubborn for so long’ or something. I had no idea what it meant.”

“I’ll be,” Margo mutters, shaking her head. “Cheeky bitch.”

“Uhm, what?”

“Nothing,” She waves a hand and leans in, nodding at Eliot. “What’d your letter say?”

“Pretty much the same thing, but it said it came from a Margo. Just, ‘I won’t always be a stubborn bitch, don’t worry El. You’ll get your Bambi back soon. Love, Margo.’”

She smirks. “Hm,” Then she leans back again, shaking her head with a knowing smile on her lip. “I shouldve known she wouldn’t let me remember.”

“What are you talking about?”

She waves her hand nonchantalantly as she reaches for her coffee. “I’m not sure when, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to forget this whole conversation. And then we’re going to go on and live the lives our friends think we deserve.”

“Which is?”

She swallows, shrugging her shoulder, and staring into her coffee cup. “Happy, I guess.” She finally looks up at them after a few beats. “And annoyingly, they were right when they said I couldn’t do that without you two idiots. So, here I am. Giving up my throne so Fen--of all people--can rule Fillory, and so I can live a boring, meager little life as a normal person.” She looks just as surprised and confused as Quentin feels. “All because you two wanted a chance to grow old together again.” She mimes gagging, but there’s a little smile curling the corner of her mouth.

Eliot inhales slowly, before reaching for his own coffee and bringing it to his lips. “Fuck it,” He says, looking over the lid at Quentin. “I like her. Let’s play along.”

Quentin shrugs too. Why not?

Even if she does kind of scare him.

A year later three more people join them at their coffee table, and two more a few weeks after that. They never remember the conversations long after they leave the table. But they never leave any of them behind.

And before long, none of them remember a life before coffees on Tuesday, and vodka on Friday’s. There are no monsters or nightmares or deaths. Unless the looks Penny shoots Quentin on occassion eventually kill him.

But, they’re happy. And they don’t even know that there was a time where they weren’t.

Jane smiles from her place in her time bubble, smiling to herself.

They had to suffer, but it never had to permanent.

#the magicians #queliot #queliot and co #oops everyone ahs to be happy together woooooops #12 of 50

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lizardkingeliot · 3 years

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First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @phoenix-ascended thank you!!!! 💖

Okay SO. I’m gonna cheat a little bit here. The first nine I’m going to post are all going to be from the first nine chapters of time cast a spell on you (but you won’t forget me) but to be fair the chapters are so long they each might as well be a story all their own lmao. ANYWAY. Here we go. I’ll post the first paragraph from each I guess, in order of chapter number obvs:

1. Quentin shook out the tension in his hands. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t getting any easier. For days on end he’d been trying to perfect the illumination spell the rest of his fellow First Years had nailed in a matter of hours. But no matter how he tried, Quentin couldn’t seem to make anything more than a spark.

2. Quentin waited until Eliot was asleep to slip out of bed and hastily tug his clothes back on. The illuminated screen of his phone told him it was just past 12am. Clutching his shoes to his chest, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and tip-toed out into the hall, all but running to his room and clicking the lock shut firmly behind him.

3. Dry-mouthed and groggy, Quentin woke in Eliot’s bed alone. He groaned, groping around for his phone to check the time for a long moment before remembering he’d left it in his room. Quentin rubbed at his eyes, rolling over and up to his feet, muscles he didn’t even know existed screaming as he went. He picked his bathrobe up from the floor and pulled it on, then tottered down the hall to empty his bladder and brush his teeth and gulp down frantic handfuls of water from the bathroom sink.

4. Tuesday morning was hell. Quentin woke just before eleven, empty as a husk. Filthy, all used up. His thighs sticking together where Eliot’s come had dried there in the night. Quickly realizing he’d already missed his first class of the day, Quentin pressed his face into his pillow, pulled the covers up over his head, and surrendered to the blank comfort of late morning sleep.

5. Quentin couldn’t feel his face, or much of his body for that matter. Which was… fine. It was great. It was fucking phenomenal. As long as it meant he also couldn’t feel the sinkhole that had formed in the center of his chest. The one that had been there for days, weeks, months, fucking years. He couldn’t feel anything at all.

6. Quentin felt a lever turn inside his chest, the source of his magic eking out a spark. Enough at least to send a message to Julia back at Brakebills. One of those little enchanted paper airplanes they’d learned his first week in Practical Applications that he never could get to fly quite right. He scrawled his SOS on a cocktail napkin and watched it flutter away like the world’s saddest butterfly. The universe took pity on him. Quentin figured he was probably due. 7. Christmas morning was a lackluster affair.

Exchanging gift cards over coffee and devouring great mounds of Ted Coldwater’s Famous Ham and Eggs while still in their pajamas. After, Julia and Quentin lay on the living room floor and Skyped with James, his grandparents waving hello from Pennsylvania in the background. They opened the stack of impersonal and overly-extravagant gifts from Julia’s mother that had been delivered to the house the night before. Quentin received a pair of cashmere socks and a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle.

8. Quentin stood at the bathroom sink, watching his face shift in the steamy mirror glass. Stark naked save for the towel looped around his hips. Hair dripping in cool, fat beads down onto the planks of his shoulders. So clean he swore he could feel himself sparkling from the inside out.

9. Quentin tossed his phone down onto the floor and leaned back into Eliot’s heat. “It’s almost like you want my dad to know I’m faking sick so I can stay in and let you fuck me until I pass out.”

Some patterns I guess: I love how chapters 2-4 all open with Quentin in bed after hooking up with eliot but all with very different vibes. In chapter 2, he’s just experienced subspace for the first time without having any idea that’s what actually happened to him and he is having A Time. In chapter 3, they had a very intense hook-up the night before and Quentin is sneaking out again, but this time he fully plans on returning right after. And in chapter 4, we see the joy of their beginnings at Columbia contrasted hard with the misery of where Quentin is at Brakebills.

ALSO 2/3 of the chapters begin with Quentin’s name which feels right considering just how deep into his headspace we are in this fic.

Okay. Anyway. Moving on:

10. Eliot loved watching Quentin lose himself in a moment.

It could be anything really: mastering a brand new spell; savoring something decadent and sweet; fussing with his hair when he thought no one was looking; focusing very hard on making himself a cocktail and getting the ratios just right; ranting about his Fillory books; reading his Fillory books, to himself but especially aloud; reading anything; riding dick...

That last one held a particularly special place in Eliot’s heart.

(from but i would die for you in secret aka the one where eliot is pretty sure quentin is only using him for his dick. spoiler alert: he’s not they’re just idiots)

11. Teddy was turning six years old. There was nothing in the world he loved more than stories.

His favorite was a version of Lord of the Rings Quentin had cobbled together from memory. He must have told it to their son a hundred times before it occurred to Eliot he could contribute more to story time than ogling Quentin’s hands while he spoke, or popping in to suggest when the Balrog should actually be making an appearance, Quentin.

(from in a land far away aka the mosaic fic where eliot makes margo hand puppets for teddy)

12. The words came out of Quentin’s mouth without a single coherent thought behind them.

“I’m just about to catch a movie with my boyfriend!”

There, outside the coffee shop on Eighth Avenue, Quentin’s maybe-friend from high school whose name he couldn’t even remember shot him a wide-mouthed grin. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “Which movie? My wife Danielle and I don’t have any plans for the afternoon and we’d love to tag along. Isn’t that right sweetie?”

(from your name like a song (i sing to myself) aka the one where quentin’s memory is shit and he and eliot pretend to be boyfriends in a post-monster world)

13. Eliot dropped the last box onto the floor. “Daddy’s wardrobe is safe at last,” he said, lowering himself down into the gold chair with a sigh. “Though I can’t seem to shake the terrible feeling that Todd raided my closet at the Cottage before I could get to it all.”

Quentin surveyed the damage from his spot on the sofa: there were at least seven large packing boxes bursting at their seams scattered around the penthouse. “I don’t know how you would even be able to tell. I’m pretty sure one of those boxes is just vests.”

Eliot quirked a brow in his direction. “Some of us are cultivating an aesthetic, Quentin,” he said. “And I didn’t see you complaining when I let you dress me for dinner last night.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t call picking between two pre-approved ties dressing you, El.”

“I’m also counting the fact that you said my ass looked great in my new pants.”

(from the parentheses (all clicking shut behind you) aka the suspender porn fic)

14. The night Quentin Coldwater died, a brand new star appeared in the sky over Brakebills. A little brighter than Venus, it stayed fixed in the same position for weeks on end. Eliot hardly would have noticed such a thing if it hadn’t been for the way that it hummed. Or at least, that’s how it felt. A humming in his bones. An old, familiar presence. Margo thought that he’d gone mad with grief. Alice was the only one who could understand.

(from a myth of devotion aka the one where eliot is sorta icarus and quentin is sorta the sun)

15. It didn’t happen the way Eliot expected it to. He dropped the letter into the mailbox, and pain blossomed in his abdomen so brightly it was like he’d gone supernova.

And everything went dark.

(from by night, beloved, tie your heart to mine aka the one where eliot sends the letter)

16. Eliot stretched out over the mosaic, his shirt riding up just a little as he clicked a yellow tile into place, and Quentin’s pulse leapt in his neck once, twice. Three times. His breath hitched. It was becoming nearly impossible to focus. In the heat of the sun, watching the sweat soak Eliot’s shirt clean-through.

(from i won’t deny (all the things i would do) aka the one where quentin and eliot start hooking up three months into their life at the mosaic)

17. After they decided kissing on the mouth was okay, Quentin and Eliot wanted to do it all the time. In every corner of the penthouse (“If you don’t stop sucking face while I’m trying to eat my sandwich,” Kady said one afternoon, “I’m literally going to feed you to the Baba Yaga.”), outside coffee shops, in between bites at the sushi place in Chelsea that Eliot loved. Once, they went to see a movie they couldn’t even remember the name of just to make out for two blissful, uninterrupted hours in the dark.

(from and a song of praise upon your lips aka part three of the box of chocolates series where quentin and eliot are definitely dating and finally talk about their feelings)

18. Eliot startled awake to something sharp and pointed slamming into his shin. He opened his eyes, and the toe of Margo’s shoe made contact one last time. Pain seared up the side of his leg, and he winced. Jesus, she really did not realize her own strength sometimes. Or the strength of her Jimmy Choo’s.

(from that you may know (the secrets of your heart) aka part two of box of chocolates aka the one where hand stuff is still banging)

19. Eliot Waugh was High King in his blood, and somehow that felt right. When they first arrived in Fillory, Quentin assumed he would be the one to wear the crown. He’d dreamed of it most of his life after all. On the throne in Whitespire, a fleet of talking animals at his disposal, a noble quest waiting around every corner to ferry him away to the next grand, heart-stopping adventure. But when the blade bit into his palm and drew no blood, and Eliot’s came up red, it felt like the final piece of some perfect puzzle clicking into place.

(from and this is the map of my heart aka the one where quentin wants to marry eliot and they have some incredibly filthy sex before everything falls apart)

20. Eliot walked into the penthouse to an eerie quiet. He found Quentin sitting in the kitchen under a dim illumination spell, drinking a beer and poking at the screen of his phone.

“Hey,” Eliot said, setting his shopping bag down on the counter. “Where is everyone?”

Quentin sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Out. I don’t know.”

Eliot squinted at him. “You didn’t want to go with them?”

Quentin lifted his eyes, shot Eliot a look. “No.”

(from for love (if it finds you worthy) aka part one of the box of chocolates series)

And I have now been here doing this for so long I no longer have time to try and find anymore patterns lmao BUT I will be tagging: @thelucindac @akisazame @fishfingersandscarves @nellie-elizabeth @freneticfloetry @rubickk7 and anyone else who wants to play!

#the magicians #queliot #otp: proof of concept #myfic

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