magicianskinkmeme | Round #1, February 2017

I want to know what Margo told Eliot when they were secret partners during the Trials.

Margo and Eliot being each others' wingmen when picking up high-strung super nerds.

Penny knows exactly when Quentin starts crushing on him, and his usual "drown out Quentin's annoying thoughts with dubstep" strategy doesn't seem to be working.

He picks the name Eliot Waugh when he’s seventeen and at college, though all the official papers- and half his professors- still call him the other thing. Four years later he regrets it, it was pretty juvenile and embarrassing, to be honest, and so painfully on the nose, but by then it would be just too awkward to change it again, he’d look so flighty. He could have changed it, when he went to Brakebills, but- he didn’t. And the card he was given said Eliot Waugh on it. The Dean called him that, during his interview, even after Eliot shoved him into a wall with his mind. Not very sophisticated, not very aesthetic. But he’d gotten- upset.

Nothing upsetting about the rest of Brakebills, though. Magic is real, which he knew, but it’s one thing to know you have supernatural powers, possibly because you have the devil in you, and another to be chosen for fucking Hogwarts- and all the kids here are crazy, and he gets inspired, and completes Eliot Waugh, and it’s a more perfect creation than he could ever have hoped for.

The free access to sex, drugs and alcohol helps with that. They’re not very serious about temperance on this campus.

And the best part is he’s good at magic. It comes so easy. Easier when he’s high.

So- Eliot. Eliot who smiles easily and meaninglessly, who doesn’t give a shit about anything because he knows he’s the best, who drinks and fucks and does magic and doesn’t get in fights. Isn’t violent. Doesn’t need to be. Nobody hates him here, or if they do, they know he’s untouchable.

He’s not actually the best though. At magic, at partying, or at getting men in his bed. At every point there’s one person just a step ahead of him. Margo Hanson. She’s not going to be at the top for long, though. She’s going to learn that when he gets serious he can play to win.

“Queen Margo,” he says when they cross paths, and bows as deep and elegant as he can, half in respect for a worthy opponent, half in mockery.

The Trials are a joke, honestly, he has to stifle his amusement all through them, which is harder when you’re drunk, but the best part is the look on Margo Hanson’s face when he solves the puzzles before her. Bow before the real ruler, bitch.

Except then they get to the truth part and of course, of course, he’s partnered with Queen Margo the Destroyer, and this is it he’s going to fail and get kicked out of the only place he can imagine living any more because he cannot, cannot bare himself to her, of all people.

From the look on her face, she’s not any happier about it than he is.

They avoid looking at each other for a while, and then they both bitch about it, which actually startles a smile out of Eliot, and then Margo, because the situation is fairly hilarious, he has to admit. Then Margo tries, bless her, says, “I cheated on the last chemistry exam. I spelled my paper to copy your answers,” and Eliot just laughs. So then he has to offer up something, or she’ll win, so he says, “The story about the chickens isn’t true. I made it up and turned it into a rumour.”

But these are pathetic efforts and the paint stays on their faces, their hands stay tied.

“I grew up in Indiana and my parents are corn farmers and my name isn’t Eliot,” Eliot says in a rush, tone blank like it always is when he’s saying anything important, “wasn’t Eliot, anyway,” and she sighs and says, “I ruined my best friend’s life when we were in fifth grade and I should feel sorry about it but I don’t.”

Eliot really shouldn't pry, since he's not planning on revealing his own past misdeeds, but- "Ruined?"

"It was bad," she says, "it was really bad," and then her face screws up and she laughs even though they both know it isn't funny.

But even that’s not good enough.

They’re not freed until Margo says, “I honestly dislike everyone and I’m so fucking lonely.” And Eliot says, “I don’t think I’m ever going to be happy.”

And that's it.

That's it.

Two weeks later she says “I love you, Eliot,” for the first time, and he says, “I love you too, Bambi,” and kisses the top of her head and is. Happy. Happier than he’s ever been before, anyway.

Platonic fucking, as friends, just having fun. Also subby/bottom Quentin. Anything else up to you!

Holy shit, that was beautiful, thank you.

I love how you dug into Eliot's history, especially the line "possibly because you have the devil in you" because it makes perfect sense that Midwestern farm-raised Eliot might have had that drilled into his head growing up.

So good so good so good <3

Eliot's always had a friendly relationship with substances, both magical and mundane. What's a few drinks every night (plus a few more throughout the day), or a couple sneaky bumps between classes to keep him sharp?

Lately, though, he's starting to lose track of himself. He's realizing that the bulk of his charm and courage comes in liquid or powdered form, and that maybe his blasé substance abuse isn't a consciously-developed character quirk anymore so much as an emotional crutch.

Eliot + any character / gimme reluctant, awkward angst and honest conversations

You're very welcome :)

disjointed/nonlinear talks and hookups to follow

**********

Quentin always makes a mewling noise when he comes, his palm pressed hard across his mouth and nose to muffle the sound. It’s self-conscious and desperate and maybe a little bit pathetic, but it’s also quickly become one of the things Margo likes best about him.

**********

Margo and Eliot probably should have felt guilty when Alice and Quentin broke up, which was arguably a direct result of their hazily-remembered fucking around. But guilt is for other people and really it just makes it easier, the next time they’re happy-drunk, for Eliot to catch Q by the wrist and pull him in for a kiss underneath Margo’s gaze and the warm glow of the patio lights.

Quentin stumbles forward, knees knocking against the coffee table and rattling the empty wine bottles strewn across it, and he laughs into Eliot’s mouth like it’s all part of some joke he just hasn’t caught on to yet.

But then Eliot reaches up to wrap his free hand around the back of Q’s neck and pull him closer and Quentin’s laughter stops dead. Somehow neither of them spill their wine as he drops into Eliot’s lap, and then it’s only the sound of grasshoppers and gasping breaths and the rustling of trousers as Q, his gangly legs straddling Eliot’s chair, opens his mouth wider and grinds himself downwards.

Margo chews on her wine-stained bottom lip and observes. She nearly draws blood when Eliot opens his eyes to wink at her over Q’s shoulder.

Game on.

**********

“D’you think he’d let me fuck him?” Eliot asks one day.

It’s late afternoon, or maybe early evening - they’ve been hunched over a pile of textbooks in a shadowy corner of the library for so long that time has lost all meaning. For all they know, civilization might’ve crumbled outside. Studying is rare for them, so when it actually happens they tend to make a production out of it: carafes of single-origin coffee and tiers of scones and finger sandwiches and shit, all of which they half-assedly sneak past the librarian. Whatever it takes to keep their asses in their seats for as long as possible, because even really fucking good magicians need to study when it comes to bullshit like The Magical Applications of Precious Metal Alloys.

Fuck midterms.

“Like, fuck-fuck him?” Margo rolls her eyes as Eliot nods, stone-faced, and makes a slow, unecessarily vulgar gesture with his fingers. “Jesus, El. Maybe? But he’d probably be all awkward about it.”

“Oh, no question.” Eliot nods, faux-pensively resting his chin in his hand. He picks at the corner of a nibbled-on lemon scone. “But worth exploring, we think?”

“Sure.” Margo shrugs. The image of Quentin, eyes squeezed shut and mouth falling open and legs wide, making that sound, makes her shift in her seat, crossing her legs against the building distraction. Snatching up her pen, she tries to find where she left off, but she’s already too wet to pay attention to another bone-dry word of The Essential Guide to Minerals and Stones so she slams the book shut and reaches for another tepid cup of coffee (ignoring the insistent press of her clit as she leans forward). Gingerly taking a sip, she casually adds, “I mean, I think it might be worth exploring.”

Eliot shoots her a grin. "Thought so."

**********

Oh my gosh this is exactly what I wanted! Thank you! Can't wait to see more :)

she's confident and sure of herself now, but Alice's parents' flippant attitude towards sex affected her growing up.

maybe she acted out - fooled around out of defiance, or out of a need to prove that she could define her sexuality on her own terms. or maybe the opposite happened - maybe she developed an aversion to sex, an anxiety and discomfort she had a hard time shaking because she didn't want to be like them.

we need a story about Alice discovering herself after struggling with her sexual identity/confidence.

Julia and Kady hook up for the first time. Goofy/silly/sweet.

**********

It’s obvious from the get-go that Quentin doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. Little fumbles make his face flush with embarrassment and they’ve had to train him out of constantly mumbling sorry, sorry when his fingers accidentally slip from their hold on Eliot’s cock or he comes without warning against Margo’s thigh.

And yet again, it’s all part of what Margo likes best about him: his lack of self-control and his clumsy but earnest reciprocations. He’s eager to please, and she’s always liked the awkward ones - they try the hardest.

**********

Eliot takes him in his mouth, presses his tongue against the underside of Quentin’s cock. Q’s hips jolt slightly in response and he impatiently presses himself further into Eliot’s mouth. “Fuck, fuck,” he mutters, before slowly dragging himself back out again.

“Be good,” Margo instructs, lips brushing against Quentin’s ear. “He doesn’t do that” - she gestures at Eliot's flushed face slowly working away in Quentin's lap, the length of his naked body stretched out between Quentin's legs - “for just anybody. He’s picky.” She pauses. “Well, kind of.”

Through the hair falling over his face, Margo can just barely see the corners of Eliot’s mouth twitch. It’s as much of a smirk as he can manage with his mouth full and his gaze flicks up towards her. One hand lets go of its kneading grip on Quentin's inner thigh to flip her the bird and she grins back at him like a shark, urging him on: eat him alive.

Placing a firm hand on his stomach, Eliot presses Quentin down into the mattress and increases his pace.

**********

Sharing has been a pet hobby of theirs for a while. It’s usually just some dumb, pretty stranger brought home from a nightclub for a night of casual sex and flippant drug use and then dumped unceremoniously outside Brakebill’s protection field before the sun rises. No biggie.

This thing with Quentin though (whatever the fuck it is) is different - it’s the first time they’ve brought someone familiar to bed with them, and more than once. This derailment, this situation, has the potential to complicate the whole fun, easy platonic-sex thing they’ve built - not because Quentin is some kind of Don Juan or anything, fuck no. But because there’s always been an unspoken acknowledgment between them that threesomes should be fleeting and meaningless, and this communally shared thirst and pent-up need feels discomfiting like neither of those things.

Then again they’re Margo and Eliot, pleasure-seeker extraordinaires, and catching feelings is for other people.

**********

Margo takes Quentin’s hand and guides it between her legs. He makes an ill-defined ragged sound, something eloquent like “oh fucking -- motherfuck,” and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his fingertips glide shyly against her. She’s velvety-wet, more than wet, and when he finds her clit, thumb circling it gently, she hisses a breath. He works one finger into her, then two, as she presses her nose into the warm spot behind his ear. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Quentin sighs, voice hoarse. Margo’s fingernails drag their way through his damp hair and Q closes his eyes to lean into her touch like a housecat. “Good.”

“Good boy.” She flashes a grin at him before her breath hitches. Her eyes squeeze shut and she groans softly as he curls his middle finger inside of her and begins to stroke. “Jesus, Q.”

From her spot leaned against the headboard, with Quentin splayed sideways across the bed, his fingers still working semi-rhythmically inside of her (they stutter every time Eliot does something clever with his tongue), she has a perfect view. Eliot’s long legs hang off the bed, his toes digging into the floor as he leverages his body weight, holding Quentin still as he starts to gasp and buck under his grasp, fucking himself into Eliot’s mouth.

What a view it is: she’s always loved watching Eliot give head - even from a strictly clinical standpoint it’s masterful, all graceful twists of the wrist and acrobatic tongue and deliberate suction. There’s got to be some deeply unfair correlation between being tall and having a deep gag reflex, she suspects - either way, when he sucks his way down to the base of Quentin’s cock all in one, languid sweep without even a hint of effort, the muscles of Q’s thighs begin to visibly shake.

“Wait,” Quentin groans suddenly, stomach muscles tensing, “wait, no - I’m going to come, wait.”

“That’s kind of the point, boo,” Margo says, rolling her eyes. Spurred on, Eliot redoubles his efforts, the hand on Quentin’s stomach reaching up to drag nails along the curve of Quentin’s ribs eliciting a sharp, bitten-off gasp.

Margo leans down and grabs him by sharply by the jaw, kissing him hard and swallowing his whimpers as he comes.

**********

you're so welcome! lots more porn to come

Maybe it's because he can go anywhere, whenever he wants, that Penny feels safest when he's tied up.

Bondage as emotional support. I just really really need Penny getting tied up and treated sweetly by someone who cares about him. Intimate, but not necessarily sexual at all. Just Penny feeling safe and letting someone else take control when his mind is on overdrive.

This is exactly how I pictured Quentin with them, god! The outside praise kink and the eager to please, fuck

Oh man this is exactly what I was thinking after the last episode, seconded!

Quentin is falling apart after Alice's death. Eliot tries to keep a close eye on him.

I can't stop thinking about Q and Penny tag teaming Alice. I have no other ideas for it past that but thats the thing. All three of them just have such good chemistry though dont they.

Oh, god, just anything?

Some ideas:

1. Quentin was bullied in high school. Not much, because Julia didn't put up with that shit and no one wanted to mess with her, but occasionally in gym, they would corner Quentin in the changing room. He has a bad reaction to something at Brakebills, and Penny "sees" it and susses out what happened.

2. Alpha!Penny and Omega!Quentin? Quentin hasn't gone into heat for forever because of the depression and worst. possible. timing. when he's sharing a room with Penny.

3. ~Magical~ genderswap? Female!Quentin wants to be mad that Alice slept with Penny, but oh, he totally gets it now. He's torn between taking notes (that Penny must never, ever see), asking where Penny learned to do that with his tongue, or just lying back and enjoying it.

I don't even care. Could be one of the above, none of the above, something completely different! Have fun with it and I will be happy with whatever you give me, fellow anonymice, and sing your praises to the Kinkmeme gods.

I'm a fan of Penny/Quentin (natch), but also adore fics exploring: fanfic tropes (sex pollen, fuck or die, etc.), gender identity fics, h/c and whump, non-con (less on the non-con, more of the aftermath, comfort afterwards), and mental issues. No watersports please.

Ooh. Ooh, yes please!

I can totally see this - you've got their voices down pat, author-anon!

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Everyone has a thing for Quentin's hair.

Margo wants to style it, Alice tugs it during sex, Julia braided it the first time they ever got drunk, and Eliot, when he gets high, finds it weirdly fascinating to brush.

Or whatever. Just something with everyone acting weird about Quentin's hair in general and Quentin being a little weirded out but willing to roll with it.

It's been... a really long time since I wrote anything, and this is the first fic I've ever written for Magicians, and I really hope someone else comes along and does another fill for this that does it justice, but in the meantime, I hope you like.

He gets it. Really, he does. Quentin had his little High School Musical audition while he was stuck in his own head, Penny heard, they shared a moment, huzzah. All is well with Brakebills again, so why the fuck is Quentin Cold-fucking-water still singing Taylor Swift in his head?

“Seriously, man?” Penny snapped after the third round of “Love Story” performed off-key. And Quentin can’t even sing on-key in his own head? What the hell was that about?

“Sorry,” Quentin said, and to his credit, he did look sorry, but that’s also kind of his default look, so Penny’s not sure what to do with it. Ignoring it sounds like a good plan. Quentin pushed his hair back and shot Penny a nervous look from behind a stack of books.

“That’s what you said the last time,” Penny said, throwing his notebook on the cramped library table and falling into the chair. He switches off his music, the heavy dubstep beat still coming through strong even with his headphones off. “Strengthen. Your Damn. Wards.”

“Right, right, I will, sorry – “ Quentin muttered. He refused to make eye contact with Penny, shuffling his papers around instead, and Penny had a minute to think, What the hell is going on with him now? when he… heard something. Oh. Oh, fuck no.

“You’re kidding me, right?” he said disbelievingly.

Quentin looked trapped, eyes gone wide and scared, and he stumbled over what might have been an apology.

Hearing other people’s thoughts wasn’t always a bad thing. It got downright annoying, listening to everyone thinking things like, “I need to pick up milk,” and “Would baking soda work on this? I need to Google that tonight”, and sometimes he thought it was going to drive him around the bend, but it had its benefits occasionally. He never had the ‘does she-doesn’t she’ when he was working on crushes in middle school, and in high school, he knew that the defensive lineman for the high school team was, in fact, gay, and wasn’t going to pound Penny into a pulp for wanting to get him some of that.

And here he was, and poor little white boy Quentin was nursing a full-on puppy-love crush on him.

He started laughing. Quentin looked stricken.

“Wait, no –" Penny started, but Quentin has already shoved all of his books into his bag and taken off before Penny can finish.

Well, fuck.

***

Round #1, February 2017

Margo/Eliot friendship

Margo/Alice, Quentin/Eliot

Penny/Quentin

FILL Re: Margo/Eliot friendship

Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies

Re: FILL Re: Margo/Eliot friendship

Eliot/substance abuse

Re: FILL Re: Margo/Eliot friendship

FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (1/???)

Re: FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (1/???)- OP

Alice/finding herself

Julia/Kady/fooling around

Re: FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (2/???)

Re: FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (1/???)- OP

Penny/anyone - bondage

Re: FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (2/???)

Re: Penny/anyone - bondage

Quentin/Eliot - friendship

alice/penny/quentin smut

Penny/Quentin Anything

Re: Penny/anyone - bondage

Re: FILL Quentin/Eliot/Margot kinky fuckbuddies (2/???)

Re: Penny/Quentin

Quentin's Hair, no pairing necessary

Puppy Love 1/?