#mini drabbles

I can think of a good scenario of Pharma fattening Tarn up. It starts with Tarn doing his routine visit. However, he comes during Pharma’s dinner, which is late at night. Pharma, never being one to skip creature comforts, had just made himself a nice hot meal to warm his chilled frame. Nothing on Delphi escapes the piercing cold for long.

i still am!!!

-

Jackie had done a lap through the apartment before she returned to the bedroom. She let out an exasperated sigh when the mountain of pillows and blankets on the bed appeared to be moving on their own accord. “Were you ever going to say anything, or just let me walk around like an idiot until I stumbled into you?”

Jan poked her head out from her fluffy fortress. “They still haven’t fixed the radiator in here and I’m frozen solid.”

“Aw, my poor little jan-cicle,” she cooed. “You know it’s still almost fifty degrees out, right?”

“Can’t hear you, too cold.”

Jackie chuckled and shook her head. She moved to the bed, removing pillows until she could see her girlfriend’s face. “Is there at least any room in there for me to join you?”

Instead of a verbal answer, two arms emerged from the pile and grabbed for her, pulling her into the fray.

rossi remembers what foyet had told them, back when they saw him as nothing more than another unfortunate, heartbroken victim. 

i keep residences under different names. i move between them randomly. he likes to get you in a car, so i take the bus. believe me, i've gone through great lengths to make sure that none of the things you've just mentioned ever happen. 

he wonders how far aaron's gone; if he's erased whoever he might've been before, completely blipped any trace of aaron hotchner out of existence. if he's burned clothes as evidence and left behind anything and everything from his past life. if the only thing he has to hold onto now is jack. 

(I have absolutely no clue if there are Fred pairings so the Alpha shall remain unnamed sjsjs)

"Something's off with your scent," James Allison comments as soon as Frederik sits down next to George with his lunch. Originally he only planned to steal their watermelon and then sneak off but Lewis and Bono pushed a bowl with vegan curry in his hand as soon as they spotted him.

Now, George starts to frown too, his nose having caught upon it.

"Not weird, it's two scents mixed together," the older Omega says before stealing Fred's watermelon. "Was someone busy snogging in a quiet corner in the F3 paddock?"

Fred feels his head turn bright red before he starts denying it. "No, no- I'm not-!"

James leans over, mustering him intensely. "Do not even think about lying. Who is the Alpha? They better not be a Red Bull junior because I raised you better."

Fred feels his cheeks heat up even more and shakes his head quickly. "He's not-"

"Why is Frederik so red, what's going on here?" Lewis sits down now, Roscoe eagerly running around his legs. "You're not giving him a sex ed course over lunch, aren't you?"

"Maybe we have to, he's seeing someone." George says dryly and Frederik wishes for the ground to swallow him. If Lewis knows, it's only a matter of time until Bono will know and he won't be able to hide it from the Omega. Bono's interrogation skills are feared.

"You're doing what?!"

Sweet lord, Frederik had hoped to get out of this unscathed but now they definitely have Bono's attention, the Omega frowning in their direction.

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

The aquarium stood proudly in the corner of your living room, lights shining brightly in the water as your newly acquired fishies swam around their new home happily. You could see your own reflection in the glass, eyes full of childish excitement, the colourful flocks of fish food floating in the water, your fishies picking up one after the other. It was truly something absolutely fascinating, so fascinating that you forgot about the food currently burning away on the stove.

He’s not sure fate exists, really, doesn’t like the idea that life is some kind of elaborate game played by higher powers. Whoever set out the rules has a sick sense of humour, or maybe they keep changing the rules, Sylvain isn’t sure which, not sure he wants to know.

If he thought he could have escaped... If he had different cards to play, would he play them? Sometimes he thinks yes. Run from it all before it started, open his mouth before he learns to always keep it shut, change it all so he could be worth something someday, to someone.

But...

One who lost everything, and built debt upon debt upon debt to ghosts that could never be paid.

One who closed herself away, only to chase an ideal that could never be reached.

One who was always second choice, who’s tears died with the one that was first.

At the question, images flash through his mind. Of kings and men who had sought his aid before. Of those friends he had made pacts with, only to lose them in the midst of battle. Of those who had sought his power, only to be denied and had them try to force him to give it up.

Of Zeivan, bloody and broken, in the battle before they had fallen asleep for centuries, and of himself in much the same state. However… He must keep up his regal mannerisms.

Eliot was sitting at the royal council table going over agriculture reports for Margo and Fen. He went to stand up and groaned. He was twenty-eight, to young for his back to hurt from sitting at a table for seven hours. Rolling his neck he looked down at the reports and the knowledge he’d garnered. 

Fillory was doing much better and from his projections the food and grain stores should be back to full in another year. Barring any famines, or droughts Fillory was running really well. Between Magic being back to normal and farmers who had taken to nonmagical farming they were probably actually a head of the game. Still it was better to be safe than sorry. His mom had taught him that back in Indiana. 

“You okay El?” Q was standing behind him. 

“Me? Yea I’m just a little stiff, to much time going over agro-reports,” Eliot said, offering Quentin a small smile. 

““Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?” Was Quentin blushing?

“Ah Q as much as I’d love a massage from you. I’m not sure my thoughts about what that would entail line up with yours.” 

“Oh you mean like a happy ending after?” Now Eliot knew Q was blushing. 

Sliding closer to Q Eliot wrapped an arm around Q’s waist looking down at his very own super-nerd. “Would you give me a happy ending?”

Quentin flushed harder and bit his lip looking at Eliot trying to tell if he was being mocked. It had been a year since Alice had died and almost a year and a half since the threesome between him, Eliot and Margo. Since then, Margo had taken over as High King dissolving Eliot’s marriage to Fen which Margo had taken in turn.  

“If I thought you’d be happy with just a happy ending then absolutely,” Quentin finally said, finding his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eliot teased, furrowing his brow looking down at Quentin. 

“I just-I mean we both know that if you had sex with me sober, you’d fall hopelessly in love with me.” He was trying so hard to appear suave and confident wrapping both arms around Eliot and looking up at the former High King turned King of agriculture. 

“You think that sex with you is that good?” Eliot asked, his memories of the threesome were fuzzy at best but he would have remembered if it had been that good. 

“I know so King Eliot,” Quentin teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek and pulled away. Walking out of the council chamber he covered his face feeling way to hot and bothered. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that omg how did people do things like that regularly. 

“Q-wait hold on, come back,” Eliot raced after him. Was Quentin offering himself to Eliot. 

“El I uh have a meeting with Fen-” Quentin stammered, before took off running down the hallway. Eliot was now very confused. 

“El did you break Coldwater?” Margo asked, Eliot was drinking and laying on the floor his back still really hurt. “Why the fuck are you on the ground?”

“I threw my back out, I’m an old man Bambi. No I didn’t break Q, he might have broken me though,” Eliot said, throwing his arm over his face. 

“Get the fuck off the floor of my Throne Room,” Margo snapped, kicking at Eliot. “Q has been sitting in the same spire looking at the same page in Fillory mumbling about cocking something up for an hour. Raf is worried he’s possessed.” 

Sitting up Eliot looked at Margo blinking like she’d just spoken Spanish instead of English. “What?” 

“Go fix him Eliot and maybe don’t completely fuck it up this time,” Margo said, rolling her eyes as Eliot took off running his wine left on the floor. What was she his maid?

“Quentin Coldwater I demand a massage,” Eliot said, looking down at his friend and occasional crush. 

“Eliot, isn’t there anyone else you can flirt with?” Quentin asked, looking up at him from his spot in the crystal. 

“Probably, but no one else flirts back with me and teases me about his sexual prowess like you do, also I want you Q,” Eliot said, slowly sliding down the wall to sit next to his personal nerd. 

“Really? You want me? Maladjusted Quentin Coldwater?” Quentin scoffed, avoiding Eliot’s gaze. 

“Hey no other man has ever told me that I’m going to fall in love with him from a Happy Ending,” Eliot admitted, sitting next to Q. “Seriously though Quentin, my back hurts like a mother fucker.”

“Alright, lets go get you limbered up old man,” Quentin sighed, standing and holding out a hand for Eliot. 

“You going to give me a happy ending?” Eliot teased. 

“Only if you return the favor Waugh.”