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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 2

Well I meant to only write a one-shot but oops, I just kept going.

This is Chapter 1 but from Ivar’s POV. We also get to see some family dynamics there and why he was acting towards Kari like he did.

A huge thanks again to @saritanotserena for help with the moodboard.

Words:4200

Warnings: swearing, mild sexual content

If you need to catch up, Chapter 1.

Series Masterlist

"Fuck." The word dropped from his mouth with all the impact of a grenade. Somehow even just uttering the word solidified what he had just been told.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he huffed then slipped his phone into his back pocket. His brothers were not going to be happy. He glanced up at the moon as if hoping it would give him answers, but she was a fickle bitch and just shone down on him, surrounding him in shadows. Somewhere he had spent most of his life anyway, where he felt most comfortable now. Not forever though. He promised himself that. He would not spend forever in the shadows.

Turning around, he yanked the 'employee only' door open and slipped back into the raucous club. His thoughts tore relentlessly through his mind as he walked down the darkened corridor. It was easy to dismiss the blasting music, the bright lights, the drunken cheers from inside the club. It was all superficial, all irrelevant. His mind focused on the important things. At least what he deemed important for his intellectual mind. Tomorrow, he was leaving for a business trip to the Mediterranean and with the way things were playing out….it would certainly not be boring. He could already taste the blood on his tongue. A venomous smile hinted at the corners of his lips at the thought.

Walking down the crowded hallway, leading to the main floor of the club, people instantly jumped out of his way. If it was due to the scowl on his face or the knowledge of who he was, he did not care. They were all beneath him. A couple of the women tried to make eye contact, to slither closer in hopes of gaining his attention. He ignored them. They had better luck gaining favors from one of his brothers. He wondered if that was part of their draw to him, for how few women he allowed to entertain him. It mattered not.

A twinge in his leg caused him to step to the side of the hallway for a second and pause. The pain was mild, something he constantly endured. Pain- his ever-constant companion. Closer to him than his own family. This twinge told him he had spent far too long on his feet today, especially without his cane. He snarled at himself, at his own disability, his inadequacy. Before self-loathing could sink in, he pushed the feeling away. No more. He would rise above this, as he always did. There was no other choice. The gods bestowed this curse upon him, he would make sure they regretted it.

For once though, he wished the gods would bless him.

Just as he started to move forward, a blonde woman crashed into another woman that had been walking in his direct path but seemed not to notice due to her facing the ground. The blonde ran into the smaller brunette then continued onward without notice or care after righting herself. Unconsciously, his hand darted out to grab the arm of the brunette woman before she fell ungraciously at his feet. Normally, he was not so selfless. His typical response would be to taunt and laugh at the woman at his feet. Make some comment about how he had no need for her to worship at his feet. But as soon as he grabbed her, kept her upright, he wondered why she was different. Why his usually barbed words were silenced.

Her hands fisted the front of his Armani shirt as if clinging to a sinking ship and hoping for salvation. He would have laughed at any other time for he was the furthest from salvation; but her head tipped up and he felt himself freeze. Her eyes widened meeting his and for a fleeting moment he wondered what she saw when looking at him. He peered down at her, the top of her head just under his chin. Her chocolate hair hung loosely behind her, reaching a couple inches past her shoulders. Pale, pink lips glistened under the lights, distracting him for a moment with the way they glistened. Dark eyeliner and a smoky color highlighted her blue-green eyes that reminded him of the sea, swirling and enchanting. What surprised him most was the seemingly innocent look in those ocean eyes. Even her features seemed so girl-next-door and innocent that he wondered what someone like her was doing in a place like this.

His hand still held onto her. He needed to let go but found himself reluctant to. She was a mystery that he found himself wanting to unravel. He placed the words on his tongue to make a quip, to return to his comfortable aloof manner but not fast enough…

For she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

A myriad of emotions flooded him at the sensation of her gentle kiss. So profound were the conflicting feelings, he stood as a statue, unmoved for concern of what his actions would tell. Though he had been kissed before, those were always alcohol or lust fueled, and even then only minimal for they represented a precursor to what he actually wanted. This felt like nothing he had ever experienced before, it was soft and gentle, like the touch of a butterfly's wing. Yet it also unleashed something in him desiring more. More of the softness she unwittingly offered, something his life was void of. Lastly though, it burned his soul because no one like her ever came to him willingly or because they wanted him. There was always a catch, always something they wanted. He was never good enough. He was never enough.

"Are you drunk?" He blurted out without caution or remorse. The lingering taint of tequila on her breath alerted him that she was not entirely sober.

"What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She began blabbering, cheeks turning a lovely pink even through her sun-kissed skin.

He stared at her a long time, unsure what to do next. He prided himself on his ability to make decisions, to plan and see corners when others only saw a straight line. It was also not unknown his ability to predict how others would think and react, and he used that to his own advantage often. But with her, he was unsure. He knew it would be wisest to push her away, to return to his brothers and tell them the news that had him in a foul mood. Yet he found himself leaning towards the alternative, curious to see what she would do next, what her sweet kiss meant, to stare into her beguiling eyes more and taste those pretty, pink lips again.

"Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and taking a step to the side.

"Wha…. what?"

He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you." Here was the test. Here would decide how they both reacted. Mentally, he prepared himself for rejection and prepared a sharp barb on his tongue only for it to be silenced with her quiet, stuttered acceptance.

"Ohhh….um, ok."

Glancing over her quickly, he turned on his heel and started towards the VIP section before she could see the surprise and shock on his face. He hated how her acceptance momentarily warmed his heart. He promised himself he would continue to test her, to make sure she was not feigning desire. For if she was, he had no problem giving her a taste of his anger and retribution for being played. His brothers had learned long ago to forgo what they thought was helpful by throwing women at him. Those same women usually returned to his brothers in tears and cursing his name due to the intimidation and demeaning he showered them in.

He led her to an unoccupied section, grateful that the space his brothers sat at was further away and they seemed preoccupied with their own revelry. Without a word, he dropped onto the couch, his legs thanking him for the reprieve. He turned to her and could not help but slide his heated gaze over her body. Standing there in her short, tight, black dress and wicked heels, he found his mouth suddenly dry. What she wore was pure temptation, flattering her delicious curves and elongating her legs to a point where he wondered what she would do if he dragged his tongue from her toes all the way up to her hip. It was the way that she lightly bit her lower lip, looking both excited and shy that caused his member to harden beneath him.

Silently, he held out his hand, beckoning her closer. A thrill raced down his spine as she took her hand and let him guide her to straddle his lap.

"Good girl." He murmured, pleased by her actions.

As her lips descended once more upon his, where last time he was unmoved, this time he took control. His hands gripped her ass, holding her against him as his mouth dominated. His tongue greedily worshiped her mouth, drawing her tongue into a sensual dance that earned a moan from her. Unable to stop, he found himself powerless to tear his mouth from hers. It was like the sweetest ambrosia he ever tasted. Her mouth was both sweet and filthy and he wanted to drown in the taste.

When her lips retreated, he almost snarled at losing their touch. Instead he dropped his mouth to her chest, lavishing the line of her cleavage with his mouth and tongue.

"Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered. He could get drunk just off the taste of her. His tongue traced the tops of her breasts once more before moving up her chest and neck to suckle just below her earlobe, wanting to leave his mark. In more than one place. When a soft purr escaped her due to his touch, he could not help the possessive way he held her tighter, needing her closer, needing to hear that sound again.

Her hands grasped his face, forcing their lips to meet again and it was all he could do to suppress the pleased growl in his throat. Her hips began grinding fervently above him and he knew she was lost to the throes of pleasure.

"Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. He watched as she threw her head back, mouth open. Continuing to grind under her, he decorated her skin with hot, open-mouth kisses and sucking occasionally, wanting to leave evidence of his touch on her. So she could not forget him easily. To mark her as his. For after this, she would surely be his. He watched her unashamedly as her orgasm hit her. Her lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, she was the most beautiful creature in this moment he had ever laid eyes on.

"What…." He watched as she licked her lips, seeming to struggle with forming a coherent statement once the blinding pleasure dissipated. "What, um, was that?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked smugly, as he continued to place open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. His member was rock-hard under him and demanding attention. Soon enough, he would have her on her knees before him. He wanted to see those pretty, pink lips he enjoyed so much wrapped around his cock.

"Um, that feeling… I just...wow…." She stuttered out, voice wavering.

He stopped his ministrations, a realization dawning upon him. He tilted his head slightly to hold her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

He could see the panic that filled her eyes before she even moved. As soon as she tried to dart away like a skittish animal, he pinned her to him, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and kept a firm grip on her hip with the other.

"You never have…." He murmured aloud. Truthfully, virgins were an elusive breed due to his social circle and work. Especially virgins coming to him. This information also drew forth a caveman feeling that inflamed his blood and made his member strain with even more painful pressure. He was the first to touch, the first to give her pleasure. It made him want to lay her down and have her right there on the couch, uncaring of anyone who walked by. He wanted to hear her purr under him, to drag her nails down his back. He wanted to claim her, to never let another man touch her. That only he would bring her pleasure. He wanted to corrupt and taint her, but also worship her as his goddess.

"Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He knew the answer but wanted to hear her say it. Needed her to confirm it.

"Please," she whined. He was unsure if her plea was to save her from speaking out loud her innocence or to continue lavishing her with pleasure. Either way, he could tell she was at his mercy and he loved it.

Deliberately slow, he leaned closer to her, hovering his mouth over hers. The way her breath hitched, her eyelashes fluttered, her hands tightening on his shoulders, he knew she wanted him.

"Kari!'

His pretty kitten jerked at the call, drawing her gaze to two women standing at the entrance of the VIP section with the bouncer.

"It's time to go!" One of them yelled over the music.

He narrowed his eyes at them, angry that they were stealing her attention. The one who called out ignored him, keeping her eyes on the brunette in his lap while the other practically bounced on her toes, nervousness evident. Clearly, they knew who he was. He smirked, a dark and devious look that caused both to stiffen even from far away. He licked his bottom lip as if tasting their fear in the air.

"I have to leave." She quietly said when she turned back to him. Any other person he would have assumed she would be pleased to abandon him, that this whole thing was a set up and now her friends were coming to 'rescue' her. Staring up at her, he could see the guilt in her eyes, the lust still dancing there.

There was still his question he wanted answered before he even considered letting her go, which he was becoming more and more reluctant to. He dropped his head, nuzzling her neck after brushing her hair away before whispering into her ear. "Answer my question first."

"I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

He forced her gaze to meet his, lips ghosting over hers. "Answer. Me." He snapped, not pleased with her trying to get out of answering.

Finally, her answer came out in a barely heard whisper. "Yes."

He paused, both surprised and elated by her confession. Immediately, he slammed his lips to her with abandon, forcing her into a needy kiss, coaxing her tongue to dance with his again. A lusty moan from her filled the nonexistent space between them and he answered with a growl. He desired her. More than just a lustful want. No, he found himself enthralled by her innocence but also the way she clung to him as he alone kept her tied to this world, instead of floating away on waves of pleasure.

"Stay." He whispered against her lips.

"I can't …."

"I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." He stated, rolling his hips under her, his hard cock rubbing against her hot core. Gods, he wanted to keep touching her. Never before had a woman enthralled him as much as she did. He could not, would not, relinquish her. She was his.

"Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

The hint of panic in her voice dulled his lust. It was her words, confirming her want of him that placated him for now; but he would let her go on his terms, not on hers' and especially not on her meddlesome friends' that continued to stare at them.

Slowly, as if to prove he still controlled the situation, his grip loosened on her. His thumb caressed her pulse point, loving the erratic beat due to his presence and touch. His other hand trailed up her body as if to memorize it once more before taking her hand. In an uncharacteristic show of affection, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes beheld her own, the blue-green color swirling and making him feel adrift at sea. Everything in him screamed to keep her in his lap, to not let her go. But there was something different about her, something that demanded care and tenderness, which confused him. She was the first woman besides his mother to show him such soft affection, to make him feel strangely safe. As he sat there staring at her, he felt that he was watching the sun set, beauty radiating enough to take his breath, but he feared the sun would never rise again on them.

"KARI!"

She jolted at the frantic call of her name, tearing her eyes away. If he had no longer been tethered to her, her hand in his, he would have pulled out the knife hidden on his body and thrown it at her friend who kept interrupting them. It would bring him satisfaction to see the knife protruding from her thigh…. he had no intentions of killing her…. unless she interrupted him and his kitten once more.

He turned back to her, hoping to draw out a few more moments. "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I hope so." She smiled tenderly at him, then stepped away and walked towards her friends.

His gaze traced over her curves as she walked away, watching her hips sway and those tantalizing legs he wanted to caress. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His gaze flickered back up to her friends. When he saw the one who kept calling her was watching him, a menacing smile grew and his gaze hardened. He was pleased to see her visibly stiffen and scurry away.

To his surprise, before fully descending the stairs, the pretty brunette looked over her shoulder to meet his gaze once more. In his mind, he begged her to come back, to return to him. Though the words would never cross his lips. He never begged. His pride and ego would never allow it. Nor would it allow him to chase after her to get her full name or phone number.

Then she disappeared amongst the crowd just as quickly as she appeared in his life.

His head and shoulders dropped as if an invisible weight had been placed on him. He sat there for a long moment, his mind reviewing everything that just occurred. He also needed his enraged cock to settle before he even attempted to get up. The sounds of her moans in his ear, the soft feel of her skin, how she fit perfectly in his lap as if made by the gods especially for him, that damn purring noise she made as he licked her almost made him blow his load. All of it he never wanted to forget. Though, remembering was not helping him to calm down. There was something different about her, a mysterious quality he wanted to discover and explore, just as much as her body. It was the way she held him unafraid that beguiled him the most. From the way her friends reacted, he knew they understood who he was. But her…. he had the impression she did not know him or what he was. Normally he would be offended, but not with her. She was special. His kitten.

With a grunt, he heaved himself off the couch to return to his brothers. At this point they probably figured he had abruptly left or been abducted. Depending on the brother, abduction might be preferable.

*****

"Ivar! There you are!" Ubbe exclaimed, lifting his glass up as Ivar rounded the corner to enter their secluded area. "We were beginning to think you had somewhere more important to be."

The youngest Ragnarson rolled his eyes as he dropped down onto the couch near Hvitserk.

"Who called?" Hvitserk asked, looking at Ivar over his glass.

Before answering or meeting the questioning looks of his three brothers, Ivar reached forward and grabbed his beer he had left behind and quickly drained it. Once done, he rolled the cup momentarily between his hands before speaking. "Mother."

"And what could she possibly want now?" Sigurd drawled, an arm slung over his latest girlfriend. Ivar no longer even tried to remember their names, they were exchanged so often.

"Sigurd…." Ubbe reprimanded, giving him a side-glance before looking back at Ivar. His harlot girlfriend, Margrethe, leaned against his side, hand tracing patterns on his thigh.

The raven-haired brother sighed before straightening. "She said she's coming to visit next week."

Sigurd dropped his head back dramatically onto the back of the couch with a groan while Ubbe solemnly nodded and took a sip of his drink. Margrethe grimaced and muttered something under her breath that caused Ubbe to look sharply down at her. Only Hvitserk seemed unphased by the news, eyes meeting Ivar's for a brief moment before looking back over to watch those on the dance floor.

Ivar himself had mixed emotions when it came to his mother. He undoubtedly loved her the most out of anyone in the world. Her presence could also feel strangling at times.

"So," Hvitserk started with a smirk on his face, his gaze shifting to Ivar once again, "you going to tell us what took you so damn long to get back? I doubt the phone call took that long."

Ivar narrowed his eyes at his brother. He knew his brother was playing a game with him and if the smirk said anything, Hvitserk knew why he had taken so long to return to their couches. "Fuck off, Hvitty."

His brother chuckled while the others around the table looked on in confusion.

"Someone care to explain…." Ubbe said.

"No." For some reason Ivar found himself not wanting to talk about her. He had heard on more than one occasion how his brothers talked and compared their conquests. Ivar never joined those conversations, not because he was ashamed but he liked his privacy.

"Ah, come on, Ivar. She was beautiful, even if I could only really see the tight grip you had on her ass while she straddled you…. hell of an ass." Hvitserk teased.

Ivar slammed his glass down on the table, making the table and other glasses rattle precariously. "You say another damn word and I'll break your fucking jaw."

His second eldest brother raised his hands in a show of surrender but the mischief in his eyes let Ivar know their conversation was not over yet.

"What? Ivy found himself a girl?" Sigurd scoffed. "Probably had to pay her to suck his cock."

"Shut the fuck up." Ivar snarled.

"Enough, you two." Ubbe rubbed a hand down his face in exasperation. He glanced over at his youngest brother. "Care to explain?"

Ivar was not stupid; he could see the intrigue in his eldest brother's face but it did nothing to move him. Instead he leaned back, and turned his gaze to look over the dance floor below. Soon a new conversation started up amongst his brothers but he paid no mind. His attention was on thoughts of her once again.

"You get her number?" Hvitserk asked quietly after a while. Sigurd had disappeared with his girlfriend while Ubbe and Margarthe were talking and fondling one another.

"Does it matter?" Ivar retorted with a devious smirk. That answer made Hvitserk laugh out loud. The youngest Ragnarson had the uncanny ability to find someone when he put his mind to it. On more than one occasion their father had used that talent to find someone that had crossed him.

"Hey, ignore Siggy and Ubbe. She seemed into you. Try and get in touch with her, but for fuck's sake, don't stalk her." The two chuckled at that before Hvitserk turned serious again. "What was her name? Or were you too busy getting her off to ask?"

He mock-glared before looking away. Out of all his brothers, he was definitely closest to Hvitserk. He was the most cool-headed out of all of the Lothbroks and quiet. He was slow to anger but did not shy away from unleashing his fury and bloodlust when the time called for it. Ever since they were children, somehow the two of them clicked compared to any of the other brothers. The second eldest also seemed able to pick up Ivar's moods with ease and knew when to leave the volatile Lothbrok alone.

After several silent seconds, Ivar finally whispered. "Kari." Even her name tasted sweet on his tongue. Surveying the club, he promised himself that he would find her. By the gods, he would see her once again and have her. For even if he did not want to admit it fully to himself, he was already addicted to her taste and touch and the mystery about her. And he had never been known to give up on something that fascinated him….and she was no exception.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #ivar the boneless #ubbe #hvitserk #sigurd #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #to call forth love #mzwrites

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fraink5-writes · 4 years ago

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From Darkness Into the Lantern Light - Chapter 6

We’ve reached the halfway point, and things can only get more exciting from here! Stay tuned!

Big thanks to @leio13 for editing!

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a cold-hearted queen. Although the Tsaritsa, as she was called, possessed her own divinity, she coveted the powers of the other Archons. Aiming to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, she sent her strongest warriors to Liyue Harbor. But just when Rex Lapis was almost defeated, he escaped to another vessel, that of a powerless baby, and was swept away to a hidden tower for his protection.

Many years after the great fight, the young and ambitious Harbinger, Childe, arrives in Liyue to grant the Tsaritsa��s desire, but, on his search for the Geo Archon’s gnosis, he ends up tangled in a mysterious man’s dreams to see Liyue Harbor’s Lantern Rite.

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

When Childe opened his eyes, the sun was shyly peeking through the wooden planks. Judging by the golden hues of light puddling on the ground, the sun must have risen just shortly before. Although he prided himself with being able to sleep almost anywhere, Childe was still surprised by how rested he felt after sleeping on solid dirt. He brushed the dirt off his clothes and quickly ran his comb through his hair. It was still early, so there was no reason to wake up… Zhongli...

Zhongli was missing. In the dirt next to Childe, there was a light, human-sized indent where Zhongli must have slept, but he was gone.

Childe darted out of the building. At the base of the stone steps, there was a human figure. “Zhong—” No, it was one of the men from the crew. Drake, if Childe remembered correctly. “Hey, have you seen Zhongli?”

“Zhongli? Oh yeah, he left not long ago. Said he was going down to the water.”

“The water?”

“Yeah, see that roof over there by the cliff? If you follow this path in the direction of that building then continue going down hill, you should run into a little pond and your friend, probably.”

“Thanks,” Childe replied hastily.

“If you guys need anything before leaving the area, let us know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Childe took off. He wasn’t sure why he was so worried. The Crux Fleet had taken care of any monsters in the area. Besides, Zhongli was strong enough to fend for himself. The scariest part was Zhongli leaving.

Childe slowed when he reached the pond in question. Underneath the tiered expanse of rock, the crystalline water glistened. Its teal waves guarded a treasure-trove of old mining equipment. On the shore, with the sunlight illuminating his bare back, strumming his hands through his long hair with a comb, Zhongli sat.

Childe recalled the stories from his youth: the seductive mermaid on the rocks by the sea. Any adventurer, lucky or unlucky, would be lured in by her ethereal beauty as she combs her hair.

Childe, eyes fixated on Zhongli, inched silently down the remaining path. His breath and heartbeat had nearly vanished, lest they disturb the scene.

Distracted by the picture in his mind, Childe tripped over a rock right by the water’s edge. He scrambled to right himself and Zhongli’s shirt, coat and tie which he had apparently knocked over.

“Oh—good morning.” Zhongli stopped mid-brush and looked up at Childe.

“You’re up early.” Childe tried to direct the focus away from his awkward arrival. “Did you sleep well?”

“I would have preferred my bed, but it was fine. I didn’t want to keep you waiting, so I woke up early and came down here.”

“You’re washing your hair?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, it takes a long time.” Zhongli patted his hair down. “If you want to leave soon, don’t let me keep you. We can go.”

“No, it’s fine. Do you want my help?” Childe hadn't brushed another person's hair in a long time, yet he blurted that out like an old habit. Of course Zhongli, who was especially paranoid about his hair, would turn down his offer.

"I wouldn't mind, but how could you help?"

Childe’s embarrassment transformed into a smirk. “I wouldn’t be much of an adventurer without one of these.” He plucked his comb from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers.

“Alright, then if you wouldn’t mind helping. The ends are more difficult, so start on the other end.”

“You got it.” Childe sat behind Zhongli then scooted up close. He grabbed a few strands of hair from the side of Zhongli’s face and tucked them behind his ears. Even after the previous night’s dirt bed, his hair was remarkably silky. “Do you brush all this hair by yourself every day?”

“Usually, yes. However, sometimes my mother helps.”

“Your mother?”

“Mmm.”

Childe took Zhongli’s answer for what it was: an end of the discussion. For whatever reason, the topic of Zhongli’s mother was off-limits, so Childe wouldn’t ask any further.

Running his comb through Zhongli's long hair, Childe was warm with nostalgia and intimacy. In the silence, there were no secrets and no lies, just the two of them. He could feel each gentle nod of Zhongli’s head under the light movement of his fingers. With each breath, Zhongli's shoulder blades rose and fell steadily, and the tension in Childe's body ebbed to a similar, peaceful rhythm.

While mindlessly combing, Childe's gaze drifted from his own work to Zhongli's brush. How effortlessly it glided through his hair, like a breeze over a field of flowers; it was impossible to imagine that it was the same hair that had been slept on, dragged through the mud and yanked by a hilichurl.

On his cushion of sand, Zhongli looked right at home, like a boulder, embraced by wind and kissed by the waves. The sun's rays caressed his golden skin. How could it be that such a man, beloved by nature, spent his entire life in a tiny tower?

Eventually, Zhongli's fast-working hands caught up to Childe's amongst the hair. He smoothed his hair over before tying it up at the base of his head. Then he clipped it in place with an orange diamond. After running his fingers through his bangs a few extra times, Zhongli turned around, staring Childe straight in the eyes. "I don't have a mirror—does it look all right?"

Being so close to Zhongli, Childe's brain was scrambled as his eyes darted all over. But at least, the answer was obvious. "Yeah, you look great."

Zhongli's lips unfurled into a small smile. "Thank you for your help."

"No problem—" Childe cleared his throat. "We should get going soon, but first we can grab something to eat from the tavern."

Zhongli nodded.

Childe glanced in a panic at the water as Zhongli buttoned up his shirt and coat.

"I'm ready. Shall we go?" Zhongli's voice signalled Childe away from his pond.

"You first." Childe scooped up Zhongli's hair. "We wouldn't want this getting dirty again, would we?"

***

A pool of morning light cast upon the wooden table where Zhongli sat, creating the illusion of peace in the rowdy tavern. Childe, resting his chin on his hands, wore a calm smile. Zhongli embraced the superficial serenity as he sipped his tea.

“Here you go, boys: Captain Beidou’s specialty!” Yinxing placed two large plates on the table. Each dish was stacked with stir-fried beef and vegetables.

Zhongli thanked the acting waitress, who left for a different table.

“Let’s dig in!” Childe chimed.

From the savory morsels of beef to the neatly cut onion wheel and pepper anchor, the dish seemed more appropriate for a restaurant than a fleet’s seasonal tavern gig. Although he wanted to savor each bite, Zhongli had already cleared half of his plate before he knew it. On the contrary, despite his eager attitude, Childe had hardly made a dent in his food. He hesitantly brought the food to his lips, and every other bite would fall sadly back on his plate.

“Is something wrong?” Zhongli asked.

“Nothing. It’s delicious.”

Zhongli, while slowly resuming to eat, continued to watch Childe, searching for the problem. If the food wasn't to Childe's taste, he wouldn't necessarily tell Zhongli—in fact, he probably wouldn't—yet Zhongli did not believe taste to be the cause.

"Your grip is wrong," Zhongli finally declared, staring at Childe's right hand. His chopsticks were twisted as he reached for his next bite.

"Aha, you got me." Childe laughed. "I can't use chopsticks."

Zhongli gently placed his chopsticks on the table. “I can show you,” he offered. He then picked up one chopstick at a time, raising his hand up for Childe to view. “Hold it like this.”

Childe’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Zhongli’s hand. With clumsy movements, he attempted to imitate Zhongli’s grip, but he couldn’t hold the chopsticks’ position, and they kept crossing.

“No, like this… move your index finger… No, the other way…” Zhongli continued offering advice, but each ended with the same failure.

“This is impossible.” Childe sighed and placed his chopsticks on the table in defeat.

Zhongli rose from his chair. “Don’t give up so eas—”

The tavern door slammed open. It was Xu Liushi. “We’ve got trouble.”

“Hilichurls?” Huixing called from another table.

“Millelith.”

With that, every eye in the tavern turned towards Childe. Calmly as ever, he stood up. “We should get going.”

“Now?!” Xu Liushi shook his head. “You’d better start hiding.”

“We can take a few milleliths.” Childe’s hands were fingering at his sheathed blades.

“And create problems for the Captain’s fleet?” Furong protested. “No way!”

“We should listen to them.” Zhongli joined the effort to persuade Childe.

“Over here!” A small voice called from behind a counter. “Hide over here!”

Hearing the thumps of milleliths’ boots, Zhongli and Childe ducked behind the counter, where they found little Yue. Tucked into the tiny space under the counter, Zhongli desperately grabbed his hair and pulled it close to his chest, which thumped violently. Next to him, brushing shoulders, Childe’s hands remained by his sheathes, but his breathing was calm. Although Yue also wore a stern face, his legs trembled. To Zhongli's surprise, Childe let go of his weapons. He gently took Yue's hands. As the tension dissipated from Yue's body, he inched closer. Childe, with a grin, patted his head and ruffled his hair. which was met with the beginning of a giggle. “Shh..” Captain Beidou crawled behind the counter. “Hopefully they’re fast. I don’t want to deal with them.”

Finally, the door thudded.

“Hi, welcome to our tavern!” Yinxing sang out. “Would you like something to eat?”

“We’re not interested in eating,” a stern voice replied. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Why surely you must mean the Captain!”

“No, this man. A criminal.”

“Sorry. I don’t recognize him.”

“It doesn’t matter. We intend to search the premises.”

“Oh, but please, let us treat you to our hospitality first. You must be tired and hungry.”

“No thank you.”

As the footsteps spread across the tavern, a chorus of voices also sprung out.

“You call yourselves soldiers? Where’d you get these old, dinky things? Let me at least fix you up with some real weapons first.”

“You look very ill. On your back, so I can examine you.”

“Wanna wrestle? No one has beaten me yet.”

“That beer will cost 15,000 mora.”

“After four days of perilous fighting, Captain Beidou stood at the helm of the Alcor, ready to face the monster—”

“What’s going on here?” The original man’s voice shouted. “Where is your Captain?! Let me speak to her!”

Beidou sighed. “Yue, lead them to the path to Yaoguang Shoal. The Alcor is parked there,” She whispered before grabbing a mug of beer and standing up. “You’re looking for me?” She paced slowly away from the counter, gulping down the beer as she went. “I was just getting more beer from the back. Ahhh… how refreshing!”

“We are the Millelith on behalf of the Qixing. We are here in search of a criminal.”

“And I am Captain Beidou of the Crux Fleet. Surely, you wouldn’t be suggesting that the Crux is a band of criminals?”

“Not at all, Captain. However, we have reason to believe that a criminal is at large in this town, and we’re seeking your assistance in hunting him down.”

“What’s in it for my men?”

“Well, uh..”

“Not interested.”

“This isn’t a matter of debate. The Liyue Qixing demands that you help with our search.”

“If the Qixing cares so much, they can send the Tianquan down here herself, and then we’ll see.”

“How dare you! If that’s how you want to play, then the Tianquan will definitely hear of this, and next time you’ll be explaining yourself to her at Liyue Harbor!”

“Great! Then, it’s a date!”

“Men, this is public property. Search every last corner!”

By the time the thumping of boots resumed, Zhongli, Childe and Yue had already snuck into a backroom and were standing before a secret tunnel entrance.

“This is where you must go,” Yue whispered.

“Thank you.” Zhongli bowed slightly.

“Be careful and don’t forget the Cygnus Fleet.”

“You’ll be a great captain someday.” Childe lightly tousled Yue’s hair with a fleeting soft smile before he grabbed Zhongli’s arm and ran into the tunnel.

#Genshin Impact #Chili #Childe #Zhongli #Beidou

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lilmajorshawty · 6 years ago

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Mercury In The Houses: Mental Space

Mercury In The First House: A rams Mind

(Zella Day - Mustang Kids Feat. Baby E)

The mind is quick, but can be lacking in future thought. the tendency to think of the situation as it is rather than what it could become is very present. The idea of “now” rules the head space which can cause a few short comings when it comes to planning. The “gun ho” perspective they have on their environment and those they interact with can be limitless in its potential but slightly limited in its afterthought. The mind is often the first thing people notice about these natives, That can be their mischievous nature, alert eyes, or their tiny squinted features. Smaller facial features and or eyes can be indicated by this placement of mercury. Their is a crude and rather overtly blunt nature to these natives but its very genuine and simplistic in its meaning that makes these natives very honest people at heart. mercury here can create pixie like features.

Mercury In The Second House: The Stubborn Mind

(Nav - Know Me)

The point A and B of matters is usually on their mind. very rarely will you catch them entertaining small chit chat as they prefer conversations with substance. They can have a melodic or rather pace by pace manner of speaking. The neck in some ways can be long or fragile. because of their easy link of sensory information and mental connectivity they are able to collect and store crucial facts and intel rather easily. That being said they’re a bit slower when It comes to learning and require a more hands on or physical manner of being taught as it means far more to their brains to have palpable information. They take time to make decisions and aren't the types to jump down the rabbit hole without “feeling” everything out first. Much like animals they can sense energy and vibes via smells, skin touch or even just their own hairs raising. The mind here is living off the 5 senses in such a way it creates its own 6th sense. These natives much like their Eighth house counterparts tend to love the lyrical aspects of rap, most can enjoy the sultry songs or something that embraces low sax and bass. for them the more sensual their realm the more of their mind they feel like sharing. make no mistake though, these natives are extremely independent minded and loathe anyone who doesn’t respect a stance they’ve chosen to take. It’s not so much a “my way or the high way” energy but rather a “you can feel that way, but don’t overstep”

Mercury In The Third House: The Scattered Mind

(Jacques Greene - Unreleased; Night Service Feat. Cadence weapon)

Mercury is often elated to be here, but for the native with the placement it can feel like mental gymnastics as every brain cell plays the audience. The mind in more understood terms is multifaceted. It has as many heads as the hydra and as many layers and intricate colors as the stars in the sky. The curse is that as vast as the mind is, it lacks grounding here. These natives can often hear audio from seemingly nothingness. a certain type of premonition like wavelength inhabits their mind subtly. The high vibrational effect of this placement can cause shifts and sudden thought burst sometimes causing the native themselves to write off some of their more outlandish celestial call back as either being too good to be true or rather too crazy to follow. Reading the intentions and emotional states of others is easy for these natives, this makes them great performers and chameleons when It comes to playing a “role.” but the draw back is that figuring out their own thoughts and feelings is a constant and ongoing journey for these natives. They can compact and isolate feelings and sensations which can make their speech and mannerisms seem “distant” or far away in a sense to strangers and even to those who know them. The mind is immensely adaptable allowing them to devour information quickly and use it just as fast. keep in mind the third house is half of the ninth house so despite their fast mind they can sometimes only scratch the surface of topics never digging deeply enough to make use out of it. Mercury here can make the arms fragile and a bit on the smaller side. Bodybuilders with this placement tend to get rather lean arms as opposed to bulky ones unless another planet rest in this house. This placement tends to create individuals with escape rooms from aspects of their personality, especially the darker sides which is why they can seem like different people at different moments and sometimes all at once.

Mercury In The Fourth House: The Quiet Mind

(Drake - Light up)

The mind here is rather sentimental at heart but can be rather overwhelmed with the psychic call back it receives from its surroundings. The tendency to become recluse or silent is mostly a response to the draining aspects of relating to others in a superficial environment. Mercury being so close to “home” makes these individuals crave authentic and deep relations with others. sometimes they can convey mountains of truths and pains in one symbolic phrase or sentence, while other moments they are unable to convey the deep intensity of their feelings into something as trivial as words. It can be quite suffocating and even heavy when these natives fall into one of their moods as being so heavily run by their heart they can often cause them to fly in-between moods, thoughts and feelings just as quickly. people around them can feel on edge or a bit unknowing when it comes to the feelings and desires of these natives due to how constantly they fluctuate. Outlets like music and poetry are very healthy ways for them to express the un-expressible. These natives on the onset can wear a rather aloof expression but the eyes themselves can seem sad or unavailable. these natives are keen readers of body movements and often learned from their parents in doing so. they tend to take sudden energy shifts, changes in tone or a emotional tension very seriously and cause them to instinctively act out in a defensive manner. Mercury here is self defensive as a means to protect the natives inner realm. these natives can fly between rational vs irrational constantly which causes them to on occasion lie about what it is they’ re feeling towards something even if there actions say otherwise. The manner of speech is moody and can sway between talkative to detached. the home life could’ve been busy and rapid. natives like this tend to have a highly talkative home life or at least on that was filled for better or worse with “communication.” the chest can be rather fragile or boney in both men or women unless another planet rest here. these natives can be far more talkative and scattered at home that they would out and about.

Mercury In The Fifth House: The Prideful Mind

(Neon Indian - Slumlord & Slumlord Re-release)

The mind here is in a constant groove. These natives tend to find a natural illuminance in their day to day lives no matter how hard things get. These natives tend to seek out stimulation even more so than most other mercury placements. in some ways they are searching for excitement whilst in others they are searching for the moment of inspiration and gull. to them life is one long tirade and if you can’t find a way to make amusement out of it, its a waste. they can be hard to read in many ways, because much like a lion their attention can shift and lapse quicker than you have time to blink. they crave acknowledgement and can easily grow bored the second they notice the tone in your voice is lacking in that delicious “oomf” they need. they’re very creative when it comes to hobbies and many with this placement adore books and quotes and often tend to pass on this mercurial nature to their children. They can draw the attention of rather brainy children and tend to debate with kids quite a bit. That being said romantically they can be either choosey or a wild card. they want to meet all forms of intimacy, but this “thought” can be fleeting especially if something more entertaining catches their eye, be it drama, art, children or a new fashion trend. so make sure if you’re fancying a mercury in the 5th you keep in mind how quickly the chase can turn into a solo jog. These natives can have beautiful backs as mercury creates a rather slow arch and increases the smallness of the ridges along the back. that being said the spine and back can be very fragile.

Mercury In The Sixth House: The Practical Mind

(TV Girl - Every stupid Actress)

This placement is what I like to call the sad gal/boy aesthetic placement. I’m kidding of course(please don’t take it seriously lmao) that being said this placement can produce a very somber and rather mentally pessimistic person. they tend to see the world in a far more untrusting and linear way then most, but can also feel the world in a way some of us could only dream of. the way they process information and navigate the world is physical in nature as they often need to experience the world, as if they’ve done it for the first time as some tourist from a far away land. The nerves tend to be bad here so often these natives tend to develop “time killers” or “nerve relaxers” be it reading, jogging, working out, smoking, drinking, sex or otherwise. they tend to place value in the consistent aspects of life and this can make them seem rather dull and dry to most people as they’re the few people who actually tend to place value in what lies there before them in proof rather than a feeling things might “be” as they want them to. These natives can seem like the bad boy or girl as many of them don’t actively support much of society or the norms people have in place. they conform and work in the silence but underneath that readily servicing mind they are in fact observing and yes, they are ranking, ordering and neatly filing everyone like files in a drawer. moody or dreamy types can piss them off as they live in a more fabricated/rose colored world than these natives do which often makes them rid the nonsense or take on a more aggressive attitude. the belly can be rather sensitive to foods and the natives themselves can be conscious about their tummy. they often have jobs that require a lot of movement or communication in some way.

Mercury In The Seventh House: The Bicameral mind

(Empress Of - Everything to Me)

The mind here is actually a two sided coin. on one end there is a talkative social butterfly, eagerly embracing thoughts and ideas of others but inadvertently remaining passive towards these ideas, never inputting their own thoughts. on the Other end we have a less talkative side, observing and speaking only in response, this time every response being a direct inner opinion and thought in response to what has been spoken. these natives can be a true half of halves due to their tendency to take a particular side or stance unknown to them. The challenge is figuring out which side you’re talking to as these natives can be immensely detached when it comes to more serious and tense testimony. they love interacting but can at times lack the tools to direct a conversation on their own. they tend to appreciate a certain level of calm and chance in their meetings with others and attract this same energy to them. they’re sweet and generous but have a perfect balance of knowing when to retreat or give space to others. they tend to need marriage partners who are just as much as a conversationalist as they are. in men this can mean an attraction to a more lean or skinnier partner whilst in women this can mean the same. the buttocks can be rather fragile or petite in its look. the pelvis region can on occasion have issues whilst sleeping as well.

Mercury In The Eighth House: The Rhythmic Mind

(Asap Rocky - A$AP Forever Remix Feat. Moby, T.I., Kid Cudi)

These natives are the epitome of the gambler. The type I'm referring to isn’t just the casino but rather it’s the fact that these natives take a certain level of excitement in pushing the limit. for them there isn’t a line, its merely a hurdle people fool themselves into creating as a form of limitation. These natives deeply believe in pursuing life and all of its aspect in every extreme. some who are disconnected with their eighth house eventually feel this placement as its something that grows in its intensity as the years go. these natives are where the “testing” comes from. many blame Scorpio for the trials and tribulations, when in reality these natives are the judge and the jury in that regard. they can read people, infact people are mini character studies for them. everything they learn from others is in some way etched into the character and melded to become a new trait, a new defense, a new tactic. they’re intimidating and in many ways far more than any Scorpio mercury due to how intense mercury swirls in the world of death, inheritance, loss, communion, and most of all the other side. they can often have a curious mind when it comes to the undead but often the spirits they attract can be mischievous, childish and irritating. in some ways spirits pose as children to lure in this native and often times these natives can have a certain level of darkness they flee from related to their own childhood. Mercury here makes people rather fearful but in a strange way trusting of telling these natives their darkest secrets. These natives can have rather petite or tight genitals. for them sex and intimacy is a meeting of the minds even more so than the body. they can be detached towards sex if a mental connection isn’t formed no matter how many “I love you’s” are said. the eyes can be deep, penetrating and ICE like a cool winter sky. they are not the types to let someone hold control over them in a conversation and will easily snake it in a way that suites them.

Mercury In The Ninth House: The Loud Mind

(Jacques Greene - Nordschleife)

These natives are ambiguous in nature. the mind can be thinking a million and one different scenes and scenarios and in reality what is spoken can completely be a whole other concept in itself. Their mental aptitude is something to be commended as they can easily dance circles around anyone with their vast mental compacity. they have a keen sense of the world, the land, its ancestors, it’s lore and history as if they’ve lived it countless times. That being said in opposition to its third house sister, these natives can lack the small and more crucial baby steps or mental facts that are necessary to give the bigger ones a face. They are gracious and gluttonous when it comes to ideas and knowledge as they love to soak up everything. knowledge and perspectives are the fountain of youth for them as they often need those different views and concepts to further deepen their minds. although mercury is a bit estranged here, he still bubbles and gasses at the Hugeness of the ninth house. foreign travels are usually riddled with opportunities to “learn” and are often plentiful in compacity. These natives are very hard to catch and even harder to maintain as they often have their own set of beliefs that they will fight tooth and nail to convince you to see. they can have a bi-polar relation with religion and can either support or ignore it depending on which side wants to be present that day. University life is often stimulating as hell for these natives and provides them many opportunities for self expansion if properly used. the thighs tend to be petite and rather intricate in form. these natives usually have a rather “entertained” expression as if they’ve already given themselves all of the conversation before you even appeared.

Mercury In The Tenth House: The Heavy Mind

(Drake - 9)

for These natives the mind can be rather intense. In many cases mercury being situated in a house it would normally share and in-conjunction with in theory can be a bit tense as they say. the mind is extremely disciplined here and often the manner of speech can be pressed or withholding as these natives often slip into moments of silence or intended distance. sometimes these natives do it for the masses while other times its because of the rather unfair critique they give themselves. they aren’t the types to act and many prefer to present themselves authentically which can make them seem like a cold, mercenary. in some ways they are the queens and kings of detaching emotions from intellectual situations but in moments when emotions are needed these natives can still struggle to turn on the sensitive switch. The value work and ethic and place a high caliber to who and what they care to listen to as far as opinions go. they can do what must be done to rise to the top as they don’t have the same limitations others would from tearing down the competition. these natives have a rather fragile bone structure and can easily damage their body if they overextend themselves. They are well known through media and through their careers by being a communicator and someone who is competent in electronics, photography, and so on. the dream career could be one in the media in some way or even to a lesser extent acting(but for the most part anything in communications)

Mercury In The eleventh House: The colonized mind

(Julian Casablanca's + The Voidz - Dare I Care)

Mercury in this house can produce some far out head spaces. These natives can live in a whole new parallel but at the same time you wouldn’t know unless you really got to know the native. they tend to enjoy the game of hide an seek when it comes to which persona they’ll show you. much like all the other air houses, the multiple faced persona is a big play on into how they express themselves. om one hand they revel in their uniqueness but on the other hand unlike Aquarius mercury they are not set on being above or beyond others, they simply want to connect, connect, connect until they have seen it all, every part of it. they can be geniuses, their minds and the way they think is both humbling and terrifying as these natives in most cases struggle following more common or relaxed means of relation. For them the real joy is the build up, the initial hum and drum of relating to someone you share nothing in common with. they tend to be broad minded and adore a multiverse of different personalities, archetypes, scenarios and settings. to them so long as it’ s different or new they are down for the time it takes to understand what they’ve gotten themselves into. strange and more isolated themes are fascinating to them as they often want to know the why and how of it. as far as dressing goes these natives are very unique, but naturally so. they just have this electric. sensational energy to them that makes everyone want to catch a whiff of their beat. Their friends tend to have Gemini placements or operate on a mercurial vibration. they can adore communities and groups and be involved in many. the ankles tend to be small and thin depending on what else rest in this house.

Mercury In The Twelfth House: The vibrational Mind

(Charlotte Gainsbourg - Rest)

Mercury in the twelfth house is a rather complex placement, more complex than any other placement. unlike its other water house sisters, mercury in the twelfth is about more than fluctuating thoughts, or intensity, rather its about the lack of. mercury here is quiet, mercury almost takes on this ghostly role. these natives suffer from what I like to call the silent miss syndrome- this is the act in which certain actions or feelings are felt and thought upon but acted out in passive aggressive and dismissive ways. these natives tend to avoid their emotions and thoughts which creates a separate means of dealing with both that makes these natives in concept difficult to read or even understand. they can express one thing and not just feel something else but do something else completely opposite of what either of their previous actions or thoughts had dictated. the mind here is cloudy and changing, but above all else it’s mute because its never consciously expressing anything. mercury in the 12th Houser's are expressing their feelings but rather as a frequency or a current rather than anything direct or visible to the naked eye. mercury in this house creates an energy in which what ever is internally felt by these natives is picked up by others and passed on into them, almost like an electrical current. it changes the moods of those around them in their environment in a powerful way. Their sadness, happiness, anxiety, pain, rage, hate, content, tiredness, all of their inner feelings become voices in the environment causing an almost domino effect. this is one of the hardest placements for mercury and for most of their early years these natives can be rather introverted and have self- isolating tendencies due to how sensitive and vulnerable to others they truly are. they can feel everything, and anything almost like a psychic sponge. their dreams can be riddled with the being communicative or in a way far more hand capable than they might actually be in the real world. They are so beautiful and gentle spirits but for a long time until they learn to fly free of Neptune's waves there mercury will be held in a glass cage.

#mine #mercury in the houses

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nancywheelxr · 6 years ago

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this year’s love had better last ( read on AO3 )

“Quentin Coldwater?” Eliot asks, just to be sure, just to catch his attention and hold it forever, possibly, just to fill out the air buzzing around them.

Quentin nods, mumbling an incoherent string of sounds.

“I’m Eliot,” he says, and puts out his cigarette, drops down from the school sign. “You’re late.”

Under his assessing gaze, Quentin is obliviously still looking around, and Eliot finds his lost lamb-ness strangely endearing.

This year just might turn out to be interesting, after all.

or, the one where Fillory isn't real and a world of problems is avoided, Quentin still finds his way to Brakebills, Eliot still falls in love. Destiny is bullshit, but some things are constants.

It’s in the early days of Fall, where the leaves are still green and safely tucked in their trees and pumpkin hasn’t quite taken over the season yet, that Dean Fogg hands Eliot a white card with a name and tells him to show the first year around, and in the interest of keeping up the Physical Kids parties reputation, Eliot squints critically at the name written in black ink and magnanimously agrees.

How thoughtful of him, really. Eliot remembers being guided by an utterly bored, utterly boring student on his first day. Now, to have Eliot as a guide– this Quentin Coldwater has lucked out twice already. In a way, at least.

So he drapes himself over the Brakebills sign, lights a cigarette and contemplates the sky, the season, the still-green leaves, and a whole lot of nothings, and waits. Somewhere across campus, Margo is already showing her first year to the building because her first year isn’t late, he saw them walking past him a few minutes ago, and Eliot watched with disinterested jealousy as her own boring task slips away faster than his.

Eliot waits and smokes, and when Quentin Coldwater stumbles out of the woods, clutching his bag’s strap like a lifeline, eyes darting around in such sincere wonder– Eliot thinks oh.

“Quentin Coldwater?” Eliot asks, just to be sure, just to catch his attention and hold it forever, possibly, just to fill out the air buzzing around them.

Quentin nods, mumbling an incoherent string of sounds.

“I’m Eliot,” he says, and puts out his cigarette, drops down from the school sign. “You’re late.”

Under his assessing gaze, Quentin is obliviously still looking around, and Eliot finds his lost lamb-ness strangely endearing.

This year just might turn out to be interesting, after all.

It’s mid-season and Quentin did get in, placed in the Physical Kids Cottage along with the pretty blonde he seems to be always trailing after. At this point, Eliot is surprised they’re not fucking yet, but in the business of not dwelling too long in the matter of Quentin’s painful straightness, he opts to be selfishly glad.

What’s it with you and the flavor of the month, Margo had asked nearly a month ago, and Eliot had given her a superficial non-answer at the time, unwilling to admit there’s something bright and tempting in Quentin that just calls for Eliot’s attention. But that was then and this is now, and Margo has since given up on questioning Eliot’s reasons and simply adopted their dorky first year in their fold.

Part of him wonders if Margo’s readiness to accept Quentin has something to do with the other half of his package deal– well, the other-other half, since Julia also seems to be a vaguely permanent presence at his side, but it’s Alice that catches Margo’s eyes.

“Ten bucks says they’ll fuck in Brakebills South,” Margo says one day over the brim of her glass, and Eliot follows her gaze to find Quentin and Alice bent over a book in the living room couch. There’s nothing particularly bitter about the way she said it, but Eliot knows better, even if it’s the first time he’s seeing her stay fixed in someone like this. It might be easy for him to see, perhaps, because of the mirrored way it must show on his own face, to her at least. There’s no precedent on this for him either. “Earlier, even.”

Eliot thinks of the Trials, fast approaching. “If they get paired in the spell, maybe,” he allows, carefully keeping anything from his voice too, but still watching the way Quentin laughs and Alice shyly tucks her hair behind her ears. They do make an attractive couple, he supposes, in the sensible way most stories go. “I’m not sure I’ll take you up on this bet, Bambi.”

“I’m sorry,” she falls against his chest with a sigh and Eliot wraps his arms around her, presses a kiss into her hair. It’s just like them, really, to manage to catch these pesky feelings at the same time, over the same set of people. Misery does love company, it turns out.

“Why would you be?” Eliot replies, floating up a wine bottle for them to share. Nothing like good alcohol and the promising prospect of a party later on to distract them from this little hiccup in their good judgment. “Here, nothing to be sorry for after drinking this.”

She drinks it straight from the bottle and Eliot nods in approval– this feels like an appropriate evening for foregoing glasses, and out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Quentin looking. Eliot raises the bottle in a salute, and Alice frowns disapprovingly at their day drinking.

“We do love those,” Margo sighs.

Quentin still smiles, though.

It’s the start of winter and the cold weather is beginning to seep in even here, even in Brakebills, and Eliot revels in missing his morning classes, staying in bed until the sun has warmed the Cottage into something less reminiscing of Brakebills South.

The walk down to the Cottage’s kitchen feels oddly like a walk of shame, even though there’s barely anyone around at this hour, and Eliot shakes his head, amused at himself.

“Coffee?”

The voice startles him, Eliot hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone, and he wonders when did Quentin learn to blend in so well into the background. “Yes, please,” he answers on semi-automatic, busy taking in the messy kitchen and the messy Quentin standing in the middle of it. There are books scattered around the table and a notebook with a giant coffee stain next to them, and when Quentin moves into the light, Eliot can see the shadows under his eyes and the ink smudges on his hands. Eliot wants to gather him in his arms and wrap him in blankets– this is seriously getting ridiculous, the wet dreams were definitely easier to deal with. Instead, he asks, “did you stay up all night studying?”

Quentin shrugs, seemingly unsure if he should be apologetic or not. “I– maybe. I have a quiz later, I’m not– I was revising,” he hands Eliot a mug, his forehead creasing a little in the way it does when Quentin frowns without realizing. “But hey, did you– do you know what happened to the toaster?”

As a matter of fact, Eliot does know what happened to the toaster. Eliot and Margo after a night in London two days ago happened to the toaster. They had been spectacularly, deliciously drunk and decided to try to make the toaster run with magic instead of electricity. You know, in favor of the general cause of saving the environment and fleeting, unshakable curiosity.

The toaster had not survived their attempts.

“No,” he lies, sitting down on the closest chair and making an effort not to add anymore spills into the notebook’s already impressive collection. “Perhaps Todd broke it?”

“Maybe,” says Quentin, dubiously, because he has not yet cottoned on the fun of shifting the blame into an unsuspecting Todd. “Also, we’re somehow out of bread? How– actually, who’s doing groceries? I’ve never seen anyone buy things but there’s always stuff in the fridge– should we, should I be contributing? That’s– whatever. Somehow there’s no bread anymore, maybe that’s why the toaster is gone.”

With a subtle flicker of his wrist, a pile of takeout containers someone left in the sink falls to the trash can, hiding the copious amounts of toasts Eliot and Margo had burned down to a crisp after trying to make toast with magic since the toaster was no longer working. “I have no idea what happened to all the bread,” Eliot tells him with an innocent face. The coffee burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch. “What I do know is that you are in desperate need of a break, Q.”

Like a bursting balloon, Quentin deflates with a noisy sigh, collapsing in the chair across Eliot. Somewhere inside his ribcage, something aches. He reaches to pat Quentin’s hand in silent comfort. “Maybe you’re right,” Quentin mumbles, rubbing at his eyes before something seems to occur to him. “Wait, don’t you have classes now?”

Eliot shrugs disinterestedly.

“How come I never see you or Margo in class, ever?” He continues, head tilting like an adorably confused puppy, squinting, “I’ve seen even Todd already– do you guys even attend lectures?”

They do, of course. Taking mandatory attendance loosely, of course. And studying in hidden nooks of the library and behind closed doors of his bedroom, of course. Eliot could tell Quentin that, of course. “Now, where would be the fun in that?” But it’s so much more fun to let him go on thinking of them as sort of cryptids. And Quentin does look pretty with that suspiciously bewildered look on his face.

“I,” Quentin shakes his head, huffing a laugh, and the line of his shoulders no longer looks about ready to snap. A small victory, if Eliot says so himself. “Nevermind. I think I’m gonna get some sleep– there’s more milk in the fridge, by the way.”

It suddenly dawns on Eliot that the coffee he’s drinking already has, in fact, milk. And sugar, just how he likes it.

“Thanks,” he says faintly, watching Quentin nod and haphazardly gather his things, pens and papers spilling out of his arms. “You know, you are one of us, Q. You could work on levitating spells.”

As the books and fallen pencils all float up at Eliot’s command, a shadow flickers behind Quentin’s eyes. “Not really, don’t have a Discipline, remember?”

“Nonsense,” Eliot shushes him, lets Quentin take over the spell, “you are here, aren’t you? You’re in the Physical Kids Cottage, therefore, you are a Physical Kid.”

“That’s not how–”

He lifts a finger, Quentin falls quiet. “Nap first,” he tells him theatrically stern, “existential crisis, later– much later. After your mid-thirties, preferably.”

It brings a laugh out of Quentin, and Eliot smiles, chest growing tight and warm like summer is blooming early around his heart.

It’s the middle of winter, nearing the turning point of the season where temperatures will begin dropping less and less and snow won’t be a permanent feature, but for now, Brakebills is blanketed in white in a way that Upstate New York has no business being and Eliot has a sort-of boyfriend.

Mike is– he’s Mike. He’s a warm, pleasant distraction that Eliot finds easier and easier to keep around. He’s funny and charming and refined, and he likes Eliot, gives him his undivided attention, kisses him like he means all his sweet nothings.

Not that Eliot believes him just quite yet, but– he could, in time.

There’s disappointed jealousy in Margo’s eyes and she refuses to like Mike, which is not fair at all because Margo had her fair share of distractions after Quentin and Alice upgraded from emotionally-stunted fuckbuddies to officially a Thing a few weeks ago. She has Ibiza, and Madrid, and London, and the Naturalists parties, and Rio, and Eliot has Mike.

I only have one Bambi, he had reassured her, and he meant it. No one could ever replace Margo’s place on his heart, not even Quentin– she was the first person Eliot learned to love and there’s no erasing that; Margo’s his Bambi, that’s all.

Still, Mike is the closest thing he has to a boyfriend and he thinks he could learn to love him too, with time, so when Margo sighs long-suffering and weary but thaws her cold stare to allow Mike into their little group, Eliot smiles brilliantly and kisses her forehead, thank you.

Maybe she’ll never quite warm up to Mike, maybe she’ll keep thinking it’s a mistake, but compromises are compromises and Eliot opens a portal to their favorite bar in Amsterdam over the weekend– Margo grins and kisses his cheek.

All is forgiven.

It’s the end of winter and the Woof Fountain is cracking, melting under the fine frozen surface. The pale sunlight hits the ice and turns the crystals in tiny rainbows every once in a while and it’s surprisingly mesmerizing to watch the ice fracture bit by bit.

Eliot isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting at the bench, smoking a cigarette and listening to the splintering noises behind him, but it’s long enough that morning classes are dismissed and students start to filter out, eagerly running off towards their houses and portals.

Among them, there is Quentin and there is Alice– although, interestingly enough, there’s no Quentin-and-Alice. They walk close, but the awkwardness around them is not the we-just-had-sex-oh-my-god-i’m-sorry-you-heard-it-didn’t-you that usually lingers.

Don’t be foolish, Eliot tells himself. This means nothing.

Quentin spots him first, raising a hand to wave but deciding against it halfway and clumsily lowering it again, settling on a smile before turning to tell Alice something. She doesn’t frown, only nodding jerkily and making a sharp left in the direction of the Cottage.

“Hey,” Quentin says, a bit out of breath as he stops in front of Eliot with an undignified high pile of books on his arms. “What are you doing here?”

The late morning light is hitting Quentin’s eyes in the exact angle to turn them into that lovely chocolate color, honeyed with warmth, and now it’s Eliot’s turn to be breathless. To stall, he blows a puff of smoke, shapes it into a bunny and lets it run a lap before dissolving in Quentin's face. “Spending time not in the Cottage,” he finally answers, “I wouldn’t recommend going inside just yet. A few third years have decided to try their hand at transfiguration. It’s been going as well as expected.”

“Oh no, Alice– she’s on her way there,” Quentin frowns, charmingly worried, eyebrows knitting, and his books sway with him.

“No need for that, between all of us, I’m sure Alice is the most capable one to defend herself against a half-tiger, half-chair.” Besides, the thought of Alice Quinn, hands on her hip and armed with her self-righteous fury lecturing some cocky third-years on how not to fuck up spells is endlessly funny. It serves them right, he thinks.

“Oh,” he says again, conceding the point, and shuffles a little. “So, uh. Not a good idea to go back for a while?”

“Probably not,” Eliot half-smiles, putting out his cigarette and waiting amusedly for Quentin to finish his thought.

“Then, lunch?” Quentin asks, followed by more self-conscious shuffling. For a moment, Eliot considers declining. He thinks of Mike, off to Portland in a work trip for the next couple of days, and he thinks of Margo shaking her head infuriatingly knowing, and he thinks of his own breathlessness just a few minutes ago. It would be, perhaps, the kinder, better choice to say no.

“Then, lunch,” he agrees, getting to his feet and claiming half of Quentin’s books.

Oh, well. Eliot has never been very good at being kind to himself.

It’s spring and the days are warming up, color blooming around the lawns and bushes and even the accidental, occasionally cared for, tiny garden in the Cottage’s backyard. Eliot’s not sure the marigolds will survive the summer.

It’s also Spring Break, and the campus is blessedly empty, with only a few scattered students still hanging around, no drawn-out lectures or dull homework to get through. Normally, Eliot would have been the first to step through a portal with Margo, ready to lose himself in the best possible ways, but this year is– things are different.

For one, Margo is upstairs, having a crisis over her wardrobe and pretending it’s not because Alice asked her where she bought the tacos from last week and somehow got roped up into showing the twitchy little bird around New York. Good for her, Eliot thinks, although he hasn’t made up his mind yet how he feels about the latest Quentin-Alice break up.

It is a travesty that nearly six months in and Alice has not taken a tour around the real New York, though.

Maybe, and this is perhaps the wildest thing to date, so he’s taking it with a grain or two of salt, but maybe, they have changed a bit, too. Eliot does have a boyfriend now– a boyfriend that has a steady job, and pay taxes, and drinks moderately, perfectly reasonable amounts, and who has parents he wants Eliot to meet someday soon, and for some unfathomable reason seems to genuinely like Eliot even after learning the Sparknotes about Indiana.

“When did this happen,” he muses out loud, leaning against the railing and taking a swing from his flask.

“When did what happen?” Quentin asks, sounding mildly alarmed, and Eliot doesn’t bother turning around, waits until Quentin quits hovering at the doorway and joins him in the porch, tentatively hopping up to sit on the railing. “So, hm. Something happened?”

Yes, we grew up, how dreadful. “Not yet,” Eliot says, looking up at the sky. From here, they could see the sun and the tree line and if it weren’t for the multitude of spells keeping Brakebills separated from the rest of New York, the countless grey buildings, probably. “But something might– Margo has her eyes set on your, well, ex-girlfriend. Sorry, that came out harsher than I intended.” There was supposed to be a question there but it got lost somewhere between his thoughts and leaving his mouth, and Eliot kind of chickened halfway and overcompensating for that isn’t the smoothest way to choose words. Still, there’s a question hidden in the middle. Can you find it, Q?

He gets an answer in return– not the one he had been expecting because you have to know the question in order to expect something about the answer. That being said, “oh, thank god,” is still fairly shocking as far as responses go, “I wanted to talk to you about this sooner, but it wasn’t my secret to tell– and, and Alice was being so stubborn about this, you know? I told her, I told her, to go for it, but she wouldn’t listen and I’ve never been more stressed in my life– El, she kept chickening out every fucking time and I– it’s been weeks!”

“I don’t– you’re not upset?”

Quentin laughs.

“I was upset, yeah,” he shrugs, fiddling with the end of his long sleeves, “but then I was relieved, to be honest. We– Alice and I, we’re not very good at being together? I– that’s not. We work better as friends. Besides, it wasn’t really fair to anyone to keep, uh, dragging out something that was clearly over. And she’s been crushing so hard on Margo, it’s– it’s kind of sweet, actually? I don’t know, we were thinking of starting a club for bisexual disasters. There would be t-shirts involved.”

So much to unpack there. So much, like, wow– Eliot decides to wrap it all up and zip the suitcase back closed, to be dissected at a later date, preferably without Quentin’s soft, earnest eyes catching all of Eliot’s attention and sending his heart into a spiral on his chest. “As Margo’s best friend, I have to ask,” Eliot settles on the easier route, the one that doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Quentin is– that he isn't – “because if Alice’s only using her to rebound–”

“Oh, no, no,” Quentin nearly falls off his perch in his rush to stop Eliot’s train of thoughts, gripping the banister with white-knuckles to stay upright. “She’s not– Alice really likes her, there’s no rebounding, or second best, or anything like that. Margo’s the real deal for her, you know?”

Yes, yes, Eliot knew which is exactly why he had to ask. “In that case, I’m happy for them and their cute Taco Tuesday date.”

“Are you giving them your blessing?” Quentin’s eyebrows raise and amusement spills from his smile like sunshine after rain.

“I’m being a concerned friend, that’s all.”

“I know,” Quentin’s smile gentles, tugging at Eliot’s every heartstring and making his ribcage constrict painfully because he sounds as if he means it in the honest, unadulterated way only Quentin could ever be.

Eliot clears his throat. “Anyway. Are you sure you’re okay with this new development, Q?”

“Yeah,” he says, without missing a beat, “I really am. As I said, it’s been over even before we broke up. It’s fine, I’m happy for them too.”

There’s something in his voice, though, that nags at Eliot’s mind, but he shakes the thought off, slips it into the stack of things not to obsess over right now, and simply passes Quentin his flask even though it’s the middle of the afternoon, only beginning to tip towards evening, and Quentin doesn’t always partake in day drinking as often as Eliot does.

“Thanks,” Quentin murmurs, taking a big swing before handing the flask back, and his hair falls in his face like it always does, and Eliot sighs inwardly like he always does in response. “Hey, so. I’ve been talking to Julia and she thinks– I mean, that’s not. Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“Q,” Eliot shifts, turning fully to look at Quentin, frowns at his tone, wishes he could erase the worried crease on his forehead, “come on, what’s going on?”

“No, it’s fine, really. And it’s not about Alice and Margo, either, don’t worry. Julia’s wrong anyway, there’s no point.”

Eliot wants to argue, press him for details, remind Quentin that Julia is an irritatingly exceptional Knowledge student and thus, is rarely wrong, but his phone goes off with a text, reminding him he has to hurry if he wants to make it in time to his date with Mike in fifteen minutes.“I have to meet Mike now,” he explains slowly, studying Quentin’s face for any signs he would not be okay on his own, “but we’ll talk later, when I get back, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Right, you should– I’ll be fine. Have uh, have fun on your date?”

The last part is said in his usual awkward, cringing self and Eliot can’t help the rush of fondness even as he walks back in the Cottage. With one last look behind him, Eliot leaves Quentin in the porch, silhouetted by a halo of sunlight and Spring.

It’s a little after the halfway mark on the season when the world is blooming in color and the breeze is a light perfume that Mike finally breaks up with him.

Do you honestly see a future with us in it, Eliot? With me? Mike had asked looking worn out and heartbroken, and Eliot had never wanted so badly to say yes but– his eyes must betray the hesitation inside his chest and Mike has enough of an answer. I’m not a consolation prize, I deserve better than to be someone else’s second choice.

And how could Eliot argue with that? He lets him go and selfishly doesn’t apologize, watching Mike leave with a sort of dispassionate emptiness. His world turns a little grey at the edges, dulled with an aching sadness, but it’s not off-kilter.

Mike is gone and Eliot– Eliot’s not nearly as heartbroken as he wishes.

It’s summer and spring has slipped away to give space to higher and higher temperatures. The heat is merciless and the sun is barely even in the sky when Eliot wakes up, too uncomfortable with the too warm weather to go back to sleep.

The Cottage is still stuffy even after he opens every window and door of his bedroom, so he admits defeat and takes a shower, climbing down to the kitchen once he’s done with his hair still dripping and his polo shirt sticking to his back.

He doesn’t expect to find anyone else awake at this hour, and yet–

“Oh,” Alice breathes, looking up at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, and Eliot thinks too early, too early, too early, but it’s also too late, so he steps into the kitchen pretending the air isn’t suddenly awkward. “Good morning,” she offers.

“Morning,” he nods, making a beeline for the fridge and taking out the orange juice he saw Todd hiding behind the milk yesterday. Resisting the urge to look for his flask, Eliot forces himself to sit at the table with a polite smile. Margo likes her, it’s the least Eliot can do, and besides, he can’t fault her for falling in the same rabbit hole as him. If anything, Eliot should be asking her for tips on how to dig himself out. “Early morning or late night?”

Alice twitches, eyes darting at him and away, back down to her mug, but her lips quirk into what resembles a small smile. “I couldn’t go back to sleep,” she explains with a shrug, “and didn’t want to wake Margo up, so.”

Now, his smile turns more genuine. To be honest, Eliot had been a little wary of their relationship, in the beginning, always hovering in the periphery of things, worried Alice didn’t feel half as much as Margo did, but– he sees it now, he really does. Alice is still a bit too uptight, and twitchy, and not too comfortable around Eliot, but it’s in the little things that show– the concessions, the smiles, the I didn’t want to wake Margo ups.

“Well, cheers, then,” Eliot raises his glass in salute and Alice clinks her mug against it amusedly, clearly recalling Todd labeling the orange bottle with his name yesterday. He winks at her and she laughs.

It’s in the little things, you see.

“What, uh, what about you?” Alice asks, adjusting her glasses. “I’ve never seen you up so early.”

With a theatrical groan, Eliot leans back on his chair, “it’s too hot upstairs! Impossible to stay in bed! It’s a disaster– there goes my beauty sleep.”

“A tragedy, truly,” she agrees, mockingly serious, and her eyes gleam with mischief he hadn’t realized could spark there. Hmm, yes, perhaps he sees how she could work with Margo. “Would knowing Q is due to come back from his pastries run anytime now help lift your spirits?”

A whole minute ticks by while Eliot stares at Alice, frantically searching for the right words for an answer that wouldn’t come off defensively rude or desperately indifferent until she takes pity on him. “Eliot,” she says, smiling gently, “I’m not blind. And I also don’t mind,” Alice adds, meeting his eyes head on, bolder than he’s seen her in– ever, perhaps. “I’m in love with Margo and– I like to think we’re friends.”

Friends don't let friends drink Long Island Iced Tea, he recalls with a tentative grin of his own.

“So, the point I’m trying to make is– don’t be stupid,” she sips her coffee primly as if giving out love advice at the crack of dawn is a thing she regularly does, and hey, for all that Eliot knows, it might as well be. It’s not like he’s ever awake at this hour.

But wherever else their conversation is idling to go, it gets abruptly cut off by the sound of the Cottage’s front door opening and closing and Quentin stumbling inside, paper bags gathered in his arms like precious cargo.

“Oh, hey, you’re up early,” he grins, his whole face lighting up and bringing the sun inside with him and setting Eliot on fire. The bags are set on the counter and Quentin starts to unload them, oblivious to it all.

“A blueberry muffin, a croissant, and a soy latte macchiato for you and Margo as requested,” he hands Alice a box and a paper cup, “bagels and a latte for me,” another box is set aside, and then Quentin is looking up at Eliot again, holding the last plastic box towards him victoriously, “scones and chocolate chip cookies– which is terrible breakfast food, I know, but you said they were your favorites, and they were there, so I figured why the fuck not, you know?”

Eliot takes the box numbly, carefully peering inside to find exactly what Quentin had listed, but his brain loops uncomprehendingly around the concept. “How did you know–” He trails off, unsure how to end the question.

“I didn’t know you were already up, I was gonna leave it here and hope for the best, to be honest,” Quentin shrugs, snickering at his own idea, like that would make it any less thoughtful, like Eliot could think any less of it.

How did you know it was my favorite is what he truly wanted to ask, he realizes.

“Thank you,” he says honestly, swallowing around a lump he hadn’t noticed forming on his throat.

Quentin ducks his head, smiling.

A bit of rustling at his left reminds him they’re not alone and Eliot shouldn’t work himself up over every little crumb of affection, but the look Alice throws him as she takes her and Margo’s breakfast upstairs is pointed and sharp. To Quentin, she gives a different sort of glare over the kitchen counter.

Eliot is not sure what to make of any of this.

Not that it matters, of course, as Quentin is soon launching into a story about his trip to the nearest coffee shop and Eliot eats his scones and listens, listens, listens, watching the rising summer sun filtering through the window and reflecting off Quentin’s eyes.

It’s in the little things, alright, and he wants to know them by heart.

It’s Autumn again and Eliot is smoking on top of the Brakebill’s stone sign, watching the clouds slowly paint the sky in shades of grey and pondering on the past year. He watches the tree line with an almost nostalgic feeling, catching himself expecting Quentin to come bumbling out of the woods and crashing headfirst into magic and Eliot’s life and a whole new world for him, for both of them, if Eliot’s being honest for once in his life.

“I’m having a deja vu,” Quentin announces and for a second Eliot wholeheartedly agrees, but there’s no mistaking this Quentin for past-Quentin, and it’s not just his hair– shorter, less tangled, hiding less of his eyes– or the lack of his messenger bag. This time around Quentin is smiling at Eliot and leaning against the stone sign, none of the nervous ticks he gets around other people, only his usual earnest, open self– and Eliot’s heart skips so many beats at the idea of how much trust is there for Quentin to give Eliot unrestricted access like this. Doesn’t he know by now? Eliot shouldn’t be trusted with breakable things, Q, don’t you know?

“Careful,” Eliot says around his cigarette, knowing fully well his eyes are doing enough smiling on their own, “Dean Fogg might hear you and decide to stick you with the Psychs and then where would you be? Penny just might murder you in your sleep if you room with him again.”

“Yeah, it’s too late for that now,” Quentin says, carelessly happy to let the words spill, “turns out I really am where I belong.”

“You got your discipline?” The surprise in his voice is impossible to mask, but Eliot knows Quentin hears the genuine happiness along with it.

“Yup,” he grins, excited and bright, impossibly gold in a greying season, “it’s nothing flashy, but– “his grin goes impossibly wider and how overwhelming it is to be smiled at fully by Quentin Coldwater. Eliot had been doomed from the start, really. “Repair of Small Objects.”

“You’re a Physical Kid,” Eliot tells him with a proud grin of his own.

“I’m a Physical Kid,” Quentin agrees.

“I told you belonged here,” he allows himself a second to be soft in disguise of being smug.

“You did,” Quentin agrees again, suspiciously mellow about it, and then goes on overly casual, “but in hindsight, that’s kinda obvious. You’re here, after all– where else would I belong?”

Eliot’s heart stops beating, stops being, stops– “Q,” he sits up, pauses, lost as to how to explain how terrifyingly bad Eliot could fuck this up if Quentin means what Eliot thinks he means, how fear is seizing up his bones in an unshakeable grip and clenching Eliot’s jaw shut, grinding down any words that might be brave enough to try and escape past his lips.

“El,” Quentin counters softly, slipping between Eliot’s legs and resting his hands in Eliot’s knees, and Eliot is sure he must be burning hand-shaped holes into his jeans. He looks at Eliot and he’s still smiling and he’s still the brightest, most beautiful thing in any room and Eliot– he’s terrified. “If you don’t want this, you don’t want us to be a thing, that’s okay, really, nothing has to change, but, uh– this is me, choosing this, choosing you. Sorry, I had to tell you or I would go insane, you know? I’m so in love with you, and you’re one of my best friends, and I don’t want to fuck this up, but– Julia thinks– she wouldn’t leave it alone, she says you’re in love with me too, and I– yeah. I wanted to believe in that so bad.”

There are so many ways this could blow up in their face, so many reasons Eliot should walk away, stop this before it wrecks everything, but Eliot is only human, and isn’t human nature to be selfish? He’s not strong enough– fuck that, he doesn’t want to be strong enough to turn Quentin down, turn his shot at something great, at the kind of love he’s only ever allowed himself to wonder about at the dead of night and inside his thoughts.

So instead, he tells himself to be brave and reaches for Quentin with shaking fingers and his heart on his sleeves, says, “haven’t you learned, Julia is rarely wrong,” and Quentin grins, grins, grins, leans up, and Eliot meets him halfway. “How could I not fall in love with you, Q?” He whispers against Quentin’s lips, drawing Quentin closer, closer, deeming every inch between them an unforgivable crime, “I love you, of course I love you,” Eliot says, feels Quentin wrapping his arms around his waist and shivering against his chest, “I met you and I loved you, and I’ll have you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Quentin kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.

“Forever, then,” Quentin decides and means it.

“Forever, then,” Eliot agrees, and hopes.

#the magicians #queliot #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #margo hanson #alice quinn #margo x alice #malice #the magicians fic #queliot fic #queliot tag

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