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killersfool · 2 years ago

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You Might Get What You Want | ROBERT KEATING

PAIRING: robert keating x original f!character

GENRE: childhood frenemies to lovers

SUMMARY: lucia (luz), nieve ella’s keyboardist, has an estranged history with inhaler—especially with the band’s bassist, bobby. their fiery hatred for eachother rapidly blossoms into something sweet, especially when she learns that he wrote a song about her.

WORDS: 5.8k

WARNINGS: kissing, swearing, alcohol use, mild sexual content

Being Nieve Ella's keyboardist has completely altered the course of my life. Only eight months ago, I was doing my second year of uni, trying to get through a Music course and completely regretting all of my life choices. My favourite part of the day would be getting home and sitting at my piano, writing songs and posting them on Tiktok. Views racked up, followers kept coming in and I think I realised how well everything was going when Laufey commented on my cover of 'Like The Movies'. Then about two weeks later, an email shot through my phone—literally like a bullet to skin. I dropped the rectangular device to the ground mid-lecture, hand on my mouth, teeth in my lip.

Nieve Ella had asked me to join her on tour. With Inhaler.

At first I was laughing, then I was bawling with endless tears of happiness and now I'm on my final show still feeling woozy and adrenaline is banging through my brain. The whole band have become my best friends. And, quite shockingly, me and Inhaler have a weird shared history. I've known them since I was really young. I used to watch their first gigs at tiny venues where they'd run around in the crowd and hardly anyone knew the lyrics. I went to the same school as Bobby, Eli and Ryan who were a bunch of madmen. They'd let me hang out with them backstage or at practice and jam before they finally found a 'proper' keyboardist (Louis). To be honest, I'd always been slightly salty that I never got into the band. But I guess we were never close enough and I could be quite horrible to Bobby — but honestly, he deserved it. He was a whiny, teenage nightmare. Still is. Except he's not a teenager anymore.

Thankfully, Nieve Ella and the band take a train separate to Inhaler. I don't have to hear Bobby's jests 24/7. Today we're heading to Dublin. The final stop of the Cuts and Bruises tour. It's been a long ride but it's all been worth it. I've had the best time ever. I'm listening to the Strokes, a song Bobby recommended to me a few weeks ago. It's been on my mind ever since and I can't stop hearing the same chords and riffs over and over. Even when my headphones leave my ears. The song is 12:51 and funnily enough Bobby has a tattoo right on his bicep with those exact numbers. The lads gave us a rather enjoyable tattoo tour with reasons for each of their inked designs.

I lay back my head against the cushioned seat. I like this, I prefer it to what I was doing before. The constant stress, the exams, the structure. I like the freedom of doing shows and seeing new people and travelling to new places. Never sure what you're in for. Crowd after crowd with all different energies and enthusiasm. The adrenaline rush is the best part of the day but when you wake up the following morning, it's like the life has been sucked out of you. You feel like nothing. Human. A person with legs and arms. Flailing around with no thoughts in your head. A billion times worse than a hangover. Post concert depression. The lull after such a powerful high. It's nice to go through that hell with a group of friends who all feel the same way. Becomes a strange group therapy.

For the past hour, I've been begging Josh to tell me what is on the set list. I'm praying they'll add some different songs. Older ones. Seeing as it's the last show of the tour. Something to surprise the fans. Maybe 'Falling In' or 'There's No Other Place' or even my favourite 'You Might Get What You Want'. That was one that was written when Rob was the lead singer of the band. When I'd bang the keys in that garage. When we'd sing the lyrics together and sound like an awful church choir. I never got the chance to listen to it live, performed properly by the band. I'm still heartbroken they didn't leave it on the track list for the album. I have to resort to listening to illegal Spotify versions.

I feel like crying everytime I remember this is the last show I might ever do with Inhaler. The last time I might see the lot of them. They'll surely disappear off into the shadows once tour is over, making their next album, cutting off all contact to focus solely on their music. After spending so much time with a group of people, then completely losing them from your life, you just feel so very empty. Like a swimming pool with no water. Or a mug of tea left hollow after spilling it all by accident. Last night — I would never dare to admit this to anyone — I cried for two hours straight into the pillow of my hotel room. Tour is a glorious thing. Fun, exciting, terrifying all at the same time. But the thought of finality is what split me into pieces, broke me up and squeezed tear after tear from my eyes.

Fran keeps looking at me with raised eyebrows like she's about to ask a question. She's scribbling on her set list, making sure she knows exactly what's happening and when. Her earrings twinkle as she tilts her head, her eyeliner sharp and perfect. Her mouth parts the slightest bit to reveal white teeth, a small smile. "You alright there, Luz?"

God, anytime someone asks me that, it makes me want to cry ten times more. I look down the train compartment, stare at the bathroom and decide whether to make my move. Do I run and hide in there for the duration of the trip, two hours of crying into mouldy train toilet paper? Or do I try to brave it and tell her how I feel? Or just lie through gritted teeth? She's good at reading me. She'll know that I'm not telling the truth.

"Don't tell Nieve this but I feel like absolute shite." There it is. I said it. Fire sinks into my skin, blood rushes up to my head. I squeeze my cheek to make sure I am actually sitting here and that I'm not hallucinating. Lack of sleep had made me seem some weird shit. I need caffeine. Quick.

"We all do." Fran puts her hand on top of mine. "Look, one more show, then we can sleep for as long as we want."

"That's the thing. I don't want this to end."

Fran gets up from her seat and swivels around the table. She sits down beside me, arms opening up and embraces me until I think I see stars. No one has ever hugged me so tightly. My bones seem to audibly shift.

"Nieve's doing a few shows in February, remember? And I'm sure next time Inhaler tours, they'll be on their hands and knees begging for us to come back." She strokes my hair. "Although, Bobby might be telling us to bugger off instead. You two need to sort out this drama. It's driving us all mad."

"He started it." I sound like a three-year-old irritated at my brother.

Fran laughs to herself. "Fucking hell. I bet he did."

—

Arguing. It's happened again. Our last day together has gone to a great start.

First stop of the day—a random restaurant that Ryan dragged us to. Hugs were shared, kind words uttered, teeth glowing under dim lights. I sit down on a wooden chair, peel my jacket from my body and place it on the back. The cool wind is slamming against the windows. I'd forgotten how cold Dublin was. Especially in November. Some Christmas lights adorn the streets and pubs are lively with masses of people. We were stopped a only once on the way there by a group of fans—even our attempt at scuttling through empty alleyways didn't work when five friends with Inhaler-themed cowboy-hats impeded our trail. They were lovely. Photos taken and compliments exchanged. Sadly, Bobby was in a bad mood. When I say a bad mood, I mean a 'I want to kill everyone on this planet and throw myself on a train track' kind of bad mood. He hid away from the fans, behind me and Nieve. His height wasn't particularly helpful in that instant. The blonde, 'Amelie', had said in her thick French accent, "Is that Bobby? I was wondering where he was."

Caught. Found. He thought staying there for a while longer would make them think he wasn't there at all. Amelie was persistent, however, and said softly, "Please could I take a picture with you?"

Her friends all started whispering. Eli was tapping his friend on the shoulder to get him to move. He was frozen. Eli frowned and shook his head.

"Sorry but Rob's being a bit weird today," Josh explained. "I don't think he wants any photos."

Amelie nodded, but the sadness in her eyes was apparent. "That's okay."

I felt bad for the girl. I turned around, looked at Bobby. He was on his phone. Scrolling through Tiktok still crouched down. A quick look at his phone screen showed me that he was watching edits — edits of himself. I had to take a double take to actually believe what I'd just seen. He was staring at clips of himself, smiling, and wouldn't even stand for five seconds next to a girl who'd paid to see his band. He continued to swipe his thumb against the screen, blue eyes lit up by his bright phone.

Then his eyes caught mine and he closed the Tiktok tab. "You didn't see that, did you?" He worriedly spoke so unbelievably quickly, I had to scramble my brain to decipher the words. His smile flipped upside down. Shock written all over him. Blush rising right up to the tips of his ears.

"The hell is wrong with you?" I muttered. Nieve heard. She stepped away. She did not want to be involved in whatever the two of us were plotting.

"What's wrong with me?" He breathed. It's like he was asking himself the question but there was an unyielding harshness to his voice, raspy and agitated. I was sure that this argument was going to be just as bad as the Sid Vicious incident, or worse. Halloween Bobby was on a different wavelength — bordering on depravity.

"You're watching fucking Tiktok edits of yourself. Didn't think you could be that self-centered—"

"Can we not do this now? Please?" Bobby tried to get me to calm down. Amelie and her friends were still only metres away, asking Josh about the tour, about the next album. Fran was listening in. She was smiling to herself. Part of her definitely enjoyed the beef between us.

"Show me your Tiktok."

"No."

"Now."

He sighed. I grabbed his phone, opened Tiktok straight away. His whole 'For You' page was edits of himself. The account he was on was a fake user account. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"What the hell..." Was all I could manage to say.

"I can explain."

"Can you? Go on then."

He didn't say anything. Took his phone back and kicked the brick wall beside him. He shook his phone around like he was going to throw it as well. That wouldn't change anything. I'd seen the worst of it — at least I hoped I'd seen the worst of it.

"Take that photo with those girls and I'll shut up about this." I gave him an option. A way to let him get out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

He was so tall. Sometimes I forgot that. But there, back straight, no longer slouched and his neck craned to meet my eyes. I couldn't hold eye contact. His clenched jaw was making me nervous.

"Fine." He finally concluded the argument with a single word. His index finger then pointed towards me, just beneath my neck. "But you don't tell anyone about this."

I grinned. "I promise."

Stepping over towards Amelie, he smiled widely, put an arm over her shoulder and allowed Fran to take the picture of the group. Moments later he was complaining about his shoes. How they were too small. If Robert Keating had a chance to complain about anything, he'd take it and wouldn't shut up about it. I just knew at that point that we'd be hearing about his shoes for the rest of the day.

Tension is thick in the restaurant. I can almost taste it in my mouth. Rob sits beside me. I don't want to look at him, don't want to hear him talk, don't want to have anything to do with him. He's only the only person I won't miss once this tour is over.

Before anyone can get a word out, Eli taps his fork against his glass. All eyes fall to him. Grace is next to him, she's appeared out of nowhere.

"I just want to say thank you to Nieve, Fran, Lucia, Finn and Matt for being such great openers on our tour. We're so grateful for all of you. This wouldn't have been the same without you."

"Aw, Eli, I might cry a bit, please stop." Nieve shakes her head, holding her napkin to her eyes. "This has been such a dream. We should be thanking you for giving us this opportunity."

"We need to do this again sometime." Ryan pitches in. "Next time we tour, you're coming with us."

"Yeah. That would be grand," Josh exclaims, pulling up his pint of Guinness and crashing it against everyone else's.

Bobby, after all his hours of complaining, has gone back to silent, angry mode. Playing around with his fork, he stares blankly at the menu, fingers tracing the lettering. I watch him as the others melt into conversation. I just want to know what is going through his head. Why is he acting like this? Last week, he was fun to be around and we had a good time. Especially when he's drunk, he loosens up a bit and stops with the facade. He even kissed me once. As a joke. I think.

It was a mess of alcohol. A 'midnight tour bus party'. We were in London and instead of going to the hotel, we ended up spending the night in the lovely green tour bus. We all got so drunk we could hardly speak. I can't remember all that we got up to but when we were sobering up, Bobby dragged me outside of the bus. He gave me his jacket, placed it over my shoulders. We sat down on a random doorstep, hugging each other to keep warm. Two penguins. Two people who usually hated eachothers guts, finding comfort in the warmth that emanated from our bodies. I'd never thought his hair was nice until that moment. How it grazed over my neck. How the curls twisted perfectly and his overgrown mullet framed his face. Or how pretty his eyes were as they shone under streetlights. Dreamy, long eyelashes, sea-like waves. He'd kissed me. His long fingers over my cheeks. His pink lips slotting between mine. I pulled away, shocked. Electricity had sparked between us, my heart was pounding, my body was a torch. Then I ran away from him. I couldn't understand what If just felt. I had never seen him in that way. We never mentioned it again.

Maybe that's what has made him colder. I still haven't acknowledged what happened that night. I keep thinking that he was too drunk to even remember it, but maybe he does. I'm not going to bring it up. Especially now. Especially in this restaurant with everyone sat with us.

"I'm sorry, Lucia."

My heart drops. Bobby is looking at me. Downcast. Entire state is disjointed. His mouth just said that, his brain just formulated those words.

"What?" I must've heard him wrong. Imagining it. This time I must be hallucinating.

"I'm sorry about that night."

Mindreader. He knew what I was thinking about. What my mind has been lingering on. The weather reminds me, his scent reminds me, his hands remind me, his jacket reminds me. That night. London. The night after Troxy. The wind — cut-throat, sharp, steely — the rain, and my tear-stained bedsheets. The taste of his mouth and the dejction locked into his eyes as I left him. Like I'd made a terrible mistake. Like running into my hotel room, alone, was the worst possible option I could've chosen.

I'm wearing the same earrings as I did that night — these ribbon ones that a fan made for me. Bobby had pointed them out — which he shifted between his fingertips and said they suited me. He's eyeing them now, hands curving, resisting any urge to touch them again, to drag us back to that moment.

The waiter takes my order. Bobby's words properly forage the depths of my mind, the veins and the arteries circling around my body, the aching crevices of my heart. I ask for the first thing I see on the menu and a Fanta. I want to stay sober. I want to savour all that will happen beyond this second. Bobby also doesn't get alcohol. Shockingly. The Bobby I know would never turn down a pint of Guinness. But he gets a 7up instead and takes a long, hard gulp of it when the waiter comes back. I'm counting the cracks on the table, how squeaky the chair is, the coffee stain on the ceiling — trying to guess how they managed to get up there. Musicians like to occupy their brains. They don't like to think too much - just do.

"I'm sorry..." I whisper. Finally giving him a reponse after a long pause for thought.

He had been waiting for an answer. He catches it. Twists uneasily in his seat. Wood creaks. Rain patters.

"...It was wrong of me to leave you." The image of his despair still rings through my bones. I swear when my cells divide they keep trying to recreate that look on his face.

"I shouldn't have..." his voice lowers, heat pf his mouth glides by my ear "...kissed you."

I'm trying to drink my Fanta with no reaction. Sugary greatness. Cold, slightly wet fingers. Orangey flavouring. But his voice is so low, trickling, burning, goosebump-inducing. I can't look at him. He's too close to me. It's too hot in the restaurant. Soundcheck is in 20 minutes. I want to run away again. I always want to run away.

Down my Fanta, smooth my skirt, breathe in deeply.

"I liked it." I similarly glide my lips over his ear when he's least expecting it, returning the favour.

He coughs. Chokes a bit on his drink. Then he eats his Pesto pasta with the pinkest neck I've ever seen on a person. Jacket off to reveal long, tattoo-covered arms, and the muscles that have progressively been getting bigger over the months. I join Ryan and Matt's drummer conversation to stop staring. It's weird. Being attracted to him feels wrong. Teenage Lucia would be ashamed. She’d slap some sense into me.

Dinner ends quickly. We're thrusted back into Dublin air before we can even adjust to the complete switch in environment. Running to the venue, through alleyways, shooting splashes of water all over the place, we realise how late we are. I feel better than I did in the morning. That dreaded train ride. Bobbys giving me the silent treatment again. I hate it. I hate it more than when he's being downright horrible to me.

Our set was unbelievable. The best show I've ever done. The crowd was unreal, the size of the place was absurd. We had never sounded so great. Everything went according to plan. We're crying now that we're offstage. We need something to uplift us. Nieve's idea is to party in the back. Which is one of the best parts of the night.

We find a spot just before Inhaler goes on. Screams bleed through the room, adoration written in teenage faces, phones held up to capture the moment. The five lads on stage. One final time. I scream like I'm sixteen all over again, dancing as the first song 'These Are The Days' begins to play. Shouting along, throwing my hands in the air. I don't think I've ever been so happy and fulfilled before.

The setlist is the usual. I didn't expect them to change it. Eli gives a little 'thank you' speech, mentioning us at the end. Then suddenly encore starts and I'm met by a mildly unfamiliar song. The crowd seems just as confused as I am. Bobby is wearing that stupid black vest and I swear his bass has been lowered all the more. The next time they perform, it'll surely be grazing the floor.

Bobby doesn't normally speak to the crowd at shows. It's always Eli. But as they play the intro, he begins to speak, "Hi everyone. Hope you're all having a good time." Commotion, screams, chanting 'Bobby' as if it's a cult gathering, not a concert. His eyes are searching through the crowd. The party in the back turned into moshpits and luckily I got pushed near to the front. His eyes land on mine. I can tell he's looking at when he plays with his earring — like it's a code between us. He keeps playing the same few notes on the bass lazily as he grabs the mic stand. Everyone is silent and listening as he says, "This is 'You Might Get What You Want'.

I recognise it now. I'm sent back to high school. 6 years ago. Practice room at school. Instrument cases strewn all over tha place, broken drumsticks leant against the wall. I'm sat at the piano as Bobby announces, "This is a new song I wrote." He passes me the chords starts singing. My thoughts are quiet. The external world is too loud for me to think. I'm lost in the music. The song is beautiful — lyrics, chords, arrangement, Bobby's voice. That was the day when I wanted to ask to join the band. Then Bobby was horrible to me so I changed my mind. I even asked him what the song was about. He looked at the Jim Morrison poster on the door, hand against his buzzed head as he thought up a response. "A girl," was his final conclusion. I thanked him for his specificity. He told me, quite frustratedly, it was 'none of my business'. Then he was riled up and told me to leave because I was 'playing it all wrong'. One of the last times I ever played with the band. So when I hear the song again — I'm back, sitting at the piano with my school uniform, waiting for cues to play the next chord.

The crowd goes wild at the fact that Bobby is singing alone. This is unusual. The majority of the crowd don't know the song. Reminds me of their first gigs in tiny venues. I sing along, staring at Bobby as he stares back. I wonder which girl the song was actually about. At seventeen, he hung out with every girl in sight - parties, random town meetups, gigs. The way he is looking at me is shattering me down to my core — eyes painted with affection and how he keeps moving his earring. For some reason, I wish the song is about me. Then he sings, 'You Might Get What You Want' whilst pointing right at me. Has anyone else noticed his staring? Nieve and Fran seem clueless. It could all be in my head. His face appears on the screen. I stare. Not ashamed. Appreciating his beauty for as long as we have left. Only tonight. Then nothing. Only the possibility of seeing eachother once again. It won't be set in stone.

I'm a sweaty mess by the end of the show. Last goodbyes, last waves, last shocked stares at the extent of the crowd. I always forget how boiling it gets in the standing area. I'm almost at the point of suffocating. We leave with the crowd, taking a few selfies with fans along the way. I stand in the merch queue. I need something to remember this. Something I can keep and wear and just be brought back to this venue, to this atmosphere. I buy a black tour shirt with the bubbly lettering, slipping it over my tank top. I just know the change in temperature will murder me. The more layers I have on, the better.

We slip through the crowd. Thankfully, it's quieter after my long time in the merch queue. I'd never seen such a long amalgamation of people.

Back at the hotel, I crash straight down onto my bed. Don't even turn on the lights or take off my clothes. I just close my eyes and stretch out my body like a cat. It all happened too quickly. I left the band early to head back, although I heard the rest of them were going to the tour bus to get drunk. I've already had so much fun. I just need to relax. Alone time. Silence. Comfort.

A knock on the door.

I jump up. Still in my Inhaler shirt and lacy white skirt, I feel like taking a shower. But whoever just knocked has impeded any plans. I could just pretend I didn't hear them. I could fall asleep and they'll just walk away.

Another knock. I jolt up this time. It's louder.

This time I reach the door. Sliding the keyhole open, I see him. Of course it's him. Of course. Of all the people that could be here right now. His hair is wet, mussed up. He's holding his jacket under his arm as it's completely drenched. Looking from side to side, he seems to contemplate giving up and leaving me solitary.

I open the door. Let my guard down. I want to talk. Rant. Let out all the garble mixing up and stuffing my skull. He'd listen to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. I don't say it rudely. Make sure to keep my tone quiet and curious. The rise of his head to meet my eyes is almost film-like, tracing along my skin, photographic.

"I need to talk to you."

"Come in then."

Close the door behind him. He drops his jacket onto the floor. Slides off those shoes with a groan. They really are too small on him. He can hardly untie the laces without sucking in a quick breath. He looks at himself in the dodgy mirror, trying to fix any flying pieces of hair. His beard is growing a little — little moustache fading in above his mouth.

He sits down on a chair by the table. His lengthy legs reach up to the end of the bed where I'm sat. He picks up a tea bag, sniffs it then puts it back. I'm worried about what he's about to say. He looks like he's gone through hell and back to get here. I've never seen him so dishevelled.

"You were amazing today." I hate the silence. I fill it up. "You all get better every time."

He's been so serious since he came in but the ghost of a smile haunts his lips. They twitch then fall. "So do you."

“Is this about your weird For You page because I’m pretty fucking worried.” I’m trying to forget I saw any of those edits.

“It’s not that.” He shakes his head. He's hugging his chest, arms shivering. My eyes narrow. Each hair on his arm is stood to attention.

"Do you want a blanket?" I'm about to look for something to warm him up when his hand clasps around my wrist. He's stood up. I'm sat down, looking up at him. His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, over a bracelet I have. One that he gave me when I was sixteen. A friendship bracelet he'd brought to one of the rehearsal sessions. I wore it just to get a reaction out of him. This is the first time he’s noticed it.

I want to ask him what he's doing. But then he's sat next to me with his arms around my body and I forget what I was going to say.

"Robert..." I don't normally say his full name. It's the only word that's coming to mind. His wet hair is dripping all over my skirt, his head is against my chest, he won't look up at me.

When I pick up his face, stretch my hands over his cheeks, I find his crystal eyes glossed over. Tears. He's crying. I don't know how to react. He buries his head back into the crook of my neck like he's embarrassed. Then he's breathing heavily. Heaving. Sniffling.

"What is it?" I whisper. I stroke every inch of his hair, the nape of his neck, the thin material of his vest. I trace the tattoos on his arm. Finally landing on the music notation inked into his wrist.

"I don't want you to leave." He holds onto my waist, under my shirt, cold skin. "Stay here. With me. Please."

I wipe the tears from his face. I must look like a beetroot. I'm boiling.

"Really?" I think I'm crying as well. I can't help it. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him so unguarded, so helpless.

"I only sang that song so you'd hear it." He looks up at the ceiling, cogs turning in his brain. "It's not just about a girl. It's about you."

"You're kidding." I have to laugh.

"I'm not. I wrote it during the summer holidays before high school. I had some weird thought that you were going to call me and ask me out. I was always a prick to you so I don't know where that idea was coming from exactly. It's just when you want something so badly—I guess your brain manifests it into reality. Like every time I turned around a corner, I thought you'd magically appear. I thought you'd say that you liked me. But then you went off to Uni, the band got big. And now this. You're in fucking Nieve Ella's band. I thought I was going to throw up when I saw you get out of the train. Everything just came back. I didn't put the song on the album because every time I hear it, I just remember what an idiot I am for not treating you well and for not telling you how I feel. Singing it brought me back to the practice room, to that shitty piano with pedals falling off the hinges. How you made such a disgusting piano sound divine. I don't want to make the same mistake. If I let you go now, I'll be regretting it for the rest of my life."

"So you were looking at me? When you were singing?" I tilt my head, thumb below his eye.

"I might have been." He's not crying anymore. His voice is less rough. He sounds like normal Bobby again.

"I'll stay with you. As long as you want."

"Forever?"

"Bit too long. I can only deal with you for about three hours at a time."

"Then we should make good use of the—" He looks down at his watch. "—Two hours and 43 minutes we have left."

"What do you have planned?" I'm getting closer to him. His nose bumps against mine.

"What do you want to do, Luz?" He's challenging me. Thumb swirling over my lips.

"This." I kiss him. Lips to lips. Two notes in perfect harmony. Everything we've been through culminating into one simple kiss. It's a peck. A tease. I pull away as I feel him yank me closer.

His hands find my ears and it's like that night again. His mouth tastes the same. Sweet. Lukewarm. He still grazes my bottom lip with his teeth when he feels me shift back.

"You're an angel," he says.

At that, I'm kissing him again. This time with more passion. Exploding fireworks. Jumping into the ocean, water floating around you. The ringing in your eyes after an explosion. An earthquake. A tidal wave. So many feelings at once. He's trying to take my shirt off. I let him. Pulled it over my head so quickly I thought he might get my neck off as well. He throws it onto the nearby chair, looking at me, with those glimmering eyes and perfect eyebrows. Beauty spots and smooth skin. I attempt to take off his shirt too, although it's pretty much stuck to his chest. He helps me out, laughing at my stress.

"It's not that hard." He smirks, tugging at the top as I manage to unstick the bottom.

"Fuck off." I roll my eyes.

He pushes me down onto the bedsheets, helping me up until my head is on the pillow. I look over his frame. Long torso, large biceps, chain around his neck. It's too much to deal with. Hooded eyes, smirk on his lips, happy trail leading down to his belt. He knows how he's making me dizzy. He leans down, curling over me, scent hanging, cool skin against mine. I throw my head back. I've never been touched like this. So precise. So gentle. Like I'm his favourite bass guitar. I'd never noticed how long his fingers were until they were splayed over my bra, until the other hand was sliding up my thigh.

He kisses my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts, tongue flat, teeth sharp. I hold onto his hair, then onto his toned shoulders. This morning, I would never have expected that this would happen. That the boy I loathed was admiring me and tasting me with unrelenting adoration. Now, the thought of leaving him makes me sick to my stomach. I pull him a little closer, kiss him a little harder and remember just how red teenage Bobby's face was after he'd sang that song to me. How defensive he was when I asked him about it. Now it all makes sense.

I won't ever leave him again.

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clochanam · 7 months ago

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aisling being a mam is insanely relevant on so many levels but i just love the notion of her doing everything she can to protect her kids, even in situations where it isn't needed. like she never went to school, right? she doesn't know what detention is in that context. imagine her getting a phone call to say that eli's going into detention "until we figure out the best course of action". she's gonna hire a team of lawyers. she's got the social workers confused as hell as they sit around the table together and she passionately defends eli's freedom. eli's sitting next to her and goes from being way too confused to try and explain things to her to actually just loving the terrified look on the principal's face as aisling starts in about the constitution. fifteen minutes pass and finally the principal's like "u know what ur right just please tell ur son to stop hacking into our exam records and get the fuck out"

the lawyers are super rich and fancy, don't need the money, but the ability to say that a waitress in brooklyn hired them for forty five minutes to intimidate a school into not detaining her son is too much to pass on. they quietly explain to her that detention just means waiting in a classroom with extra work after school hours as a punishment, not being carted into a juvenile correction center.

#( OUT OF SOULS. )#( i'm gonna sleep now )#( but yeah aisling with zero prior experience of social norms )#( not understanding some standard parts of the school experience )#( 'aisling i'm very sorry but tina is a straight D student' )#( 'excuse me mrs longford but my daughter is a lesbian' )#( 'no--' 'and what are you teaching her anyway?' 'spanish.' 'are you spanish?' 'no.' )#( aisling looking up at wyll. wyll not knowing what spanish means )#( 'see. maybe if u were spanish u would understand her better.' )#( the teachers have monthly meetings to plan a coordinated conversation with her )#( bc her ride or die ness is too much and they can't cope )

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proveagain · 8 months ago

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the only thing breaking the silence after eli's words in the makeshift medic room was the ticking of the clock in the far corner, counting down the minutes miguel had to come to his decision. the rowdy crowd outside had slowly grown quiet but the silence was anything but calming. there was a tension in the air, miguel could feel it threatening to suffocate him. all those people out there - his friends, his family, his sensei - sat waiting, hoping to see the defending champion walk back out onto the mat.

it had been a seemingly easy decision at first. the medic's advice was simple: let the pain guide you. his lower back ached, pulled and over-exerted muscles desperately begging for him to stop. and miguel had almost immediately spoken up... until he'd seen the look in his sensei's eyes. until johnny had said that the fate of their dojo, the fate of their relationship as sensei and student, the fate of the last bit of consistency in miguel's life relied on him getting back on the mat.

@sekaitaikai (eli) - ❛ you'll always be my best friend. ❜

❛ i know, ❜ was all he could muster up in the moment. miguel's tired eyes finally met eli's and all miguel saw was the person who'd been by his side longer than anybody else. whether he was in cobra kai, eagle fang, or miyagi-do, it didn't matter. eli had been with him through it all. and wasn't that the whole point? that promise of friendship hit him harder than it would have a couple weeks ago - hell, even a day ago - and it finally brought the corners of his lips upwards in a grateful smile.

❛ same here. we're still on the same side. i don't care what sensei says. the whole point was taking them down together. ❜ miguel slowly got off the exam table, taking one last glance at the clock. ❛ so i'm not gonna keep fighting... you are. ❜

#✘ ──┇ striking hard is about giving your all. ┇ ➡ 【 ic. 】#✘ ──┇ it′s the moment of truth‚ it′s all on the line. ┇ ➡ 【 v: season four. 】#FINALLY TIME TO FIX THIS SHIT

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sopebubbles · 2 years ago

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annyeong!

just finished chapter 9 🫠 first of all, what’s up with Eli? i mean suddenly show up and became this overprotective and caring brother? yet at the end he threw her out just because his fiancé asked him to? is he an alpha? because he is hell act like a sap, asshole sap just like his fiancé.

honestly i do understand that he care for her little sister. deny all you want but you can’t change who you are originally. so i guess within him, as lykos, he just cannot see his sister in trouble that’s why he tried to save and provided for her. yet his fiancé freaked out and he also willingly threw her out and that is really a dick move. wish you happy life Eli, until your sap pregnant and got lykos hah serve you right- (im sorry for being salty)

the fluffiest part has come to show though, yoongi and yn!!! that is so heart wrenching yet fluffy yet soo soo ugh. no words can describe how im feeling right 😭

well, soon after, yoongi and jk probably going to take her home. aww can’t wait for that!!

but, i wonder- it just me thinking okayy, um what if,- (author-nim don’t take this to heart or in you wip okay! it just me wondering in my wild thoughts instead of studying for my test tomorrow- sigh, i’m 22 yet still going to class for test�� btw!!! ) after all is well, and yn get to be in pack as yoongi’s omega, and what if, suddenly yn got pregnant instead of hoseok. you know as we all know that hoseok and jin has been trying for kids yet yn and yoongi get first?? it would be hella dramas and i’m just wondering okay author nim- you don’t have to wonder or put it in your wip you know- just wonderrrr ㅋㅋㅋ

all is well, and i really lurve the update! got me excited for next!! oh question, how long this lone wolf series would be? 12 chapters? 14 chapters?

luv u ! - 🫧

About Eli: he is a beta. Really there's no other way he would be able to pretend so well. I think he genuinely wanted to help her, but only as long as it didn't threaten his own security. He grew up the same way she did and is also very damaged, so don't hate him too much.

That scene where she goes to him and calls him alpha has been in my head for so long. I'm so happy it's it there now. It's everything to me. She will be in get proper home very soon.

Ah so about that. As I've hinted at with her fear of breeding, mc will not be getting pregnant, at least not anytime soon at all. Because of her past, that would be extremely traumatic for her. But that doesn't mean kids won't come up 👀

I have no idea how long it will be!! Most likely the following chapters will be a bit shorter just because they are going to be fluffier. I kind of really pushed their separation into as few chapters as I could bc I don't want it to last too long. Now I think I'll do slightly shorter chapters and we can just snack on the fluff for a long time.

Thank you so much for showing my little universe some love. Good luck with your exam!!

#lone wolf asks #🫧 anon #lone wolf thoughts

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a-z0-9-i-n-gram-completionist · 1 year ago

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1: 0 1 2 3 4 6 a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p r s t u v w x y 30/36 (24/26) (6/10)

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3: 100 10h abs ace aes aft agg amp and ant arc ari art ass ati ato ber bit bra bru bso bud but cae cap cch cel cie cne coi com dag dan ddy der des ebr ele ell ely ere ers ert esa est ety eve ews exa fac for fro fte ger gge gol hel hid hil hin his how ibe icn ide iet ila ina ing ink ins ion iou ism iss ith itt jou jus kno lar leb les lib low lut mar mat mis mit mmi mpl nal nat nde net new nly not now nte num oci oin old olu omm one onl ont ord orl ory ota our ous owe owi own pit ple put rat rcc rde red rev rio rld rna ron rse rst rti rty rut sar sas sho sin sma soc sol ssa ssi ssu sta sue tan tat ted tel ter the thi tic tio tor tte tus udd ued umi und urn ust ute utu ver wes why win wit wor xam you 176/46656 (174/17576) (2/1000)

4: abso aesa afte agge ampl ante arcc ario arti assa assi atic atio ator bert brat brut bsol budd caes cele ciet cnew coin comm dagg dant dere ders ebra eleb ered erse erst erty esar ever exam face fron fter gers gger gold hell hila hink howi iber icne ides iety ilar inat ious isma issu itte jour just know lari lebr libe lowe lute marc mati mism mitt mmit mple nati nder news nota nown numi ocie oins olut ommi only orde orld otat ourn owes owin ples rato rcch rder reve riou rnal ront rsta rutu sass show sina smat soci sold solu ssas ssin ssue stan sued tand tati tely thin this ticn tion tory tted uddy umis unde urna utel utus vers west wing with worl xamp 132/1679616 (132/456976)

5: absol aesar after agger ample arcch ariou assas assin aticn ation atory berty brato brutu bsolu buddy caesa celeb ciety cnews coins commi dagge dante dered derst ebrat elebr ersta evers examp front ggers hilar howin ibert icnew ilari inati ismat issue itted journ known lario lebra liber lowes lutel marcc matic misma mitte mmitt mples natio nders notat numis ociet olute ommit order otati ourna owest owing rator rdere rever rious rstan rutus sassi showi sinat smati socie solut ssass ssina ssued stand tatio think ticne umism under urnal utely verse world xampl 94/60466176 (94/11881376)

6: absolu aggers amples arious assass assina aticne brator brutus bsolut caesar celebr commit dagger dersta ebrato elebra erstan everse exampl hilari howing iberty icnews ilario inatio ismati issued journa lariou lebrat libert lowest lutely marcch maticn mismat mitted mmitte nation nderst notati numism ociety olutel ommitt ordere otatio ournal ratory rdered revers rstand sassin showin sinati smatic societ solute ssassi ssinat tation ticnew umisma unders xample 66/2176782336 (66/308915776)

7: absolut assassi assinat aticnew bratory bsolute celebra committ daggers derstan ebrator elebrat erstand example hilario ilariou ination ismatic journal larious lebrato liberty maticne mismati mmitted ndersta notatio numisma olutely ommitte ordered otation reverse sassina showing sinatio smaticn society solutel ssassin ssinati ticnews umismat underst xamples 45/78364164096 (45/8031810176)

8: absolute assassin assinati aticnews bsolutel celebrat committe derstand ebratory elebrato examples hilariou ilarious ismaticn lebrator maticnew mismatic nderstan notation numismat ommitted sassinat sination smaticne solutely ssassina ssinatio umismati understa 29/2821109907456 (29/208827064576)

9: absolutel assassina assinatio bsolutely celebrato committed elebrator hilarious ismaticne lebratory maticnews mismaticn nderstand numismati sassinati smaticnew ssassinat ssination umismatic understan 20/101559956668416 (20/5429503678976)

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13: assassination numismaticnew umismaticnews 3/170581728179578208256 (3/2481152873203736576)

14: numismaticnews 1/6140942214464815497216 (1/64509974703297150976)

#max: 14

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one-hell-of-otaku-is-here · 2 years ago

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do you sometimes have an urge to just scroll through fanart and other fandom content even though you still havent finished reading the book ( or original material) so you get spoiled anyway or is it just me?

#i swear i was spoiled about tsh even before i fisnhed tsh #and now same thing with vicous #and then i learn i need to buy second buy and theres also graphic novel happpening in between two books and another book in works like pls #hell bent is still untouched #i also have exam this saturday and starting work next week so rip me #im so obessed with vic and eli rn and i know like 3 things about them #dark academia #vicous v.e schwab #v.e. schwab #Vicious #victor and eli

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eli-is-an-idiot · 9 months ago

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Fic masterlist

(this is mainly just something for me to link in my writing blog's pinned, feel free to ignore)

My AO3 - just_so_tired

Fandoms:

Shoot From the Hip (improv group)

Hell Followed With Us (Andrew Joseph White book)

Fics:

SFTH

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

the unrelenting aubergine

derek/titch

backstory for how they met and how their relationship develops

my current magnum opus

complete

9/9 chapters

Beetroot Decides

the unrelenting aubergine/crossover -

fluff oneshot based on the podcast stream -

derek/titch

the two of them watching andre beetroot's late night show

only a day away

crossover

peter steven meets the other sfth kids with a side of ditch thrown in

in progress

taking a break at the moment during exams, but i'll be back)

3 chapters

HFWU

"The Truth" by High Reverend Father Ian Clevenger

my version of the speech/book referenced in the beginning of chapter quotes in the book

oneshot

Tags:

My SFTH fics are tagged with #shoot from the fic

General writing stuff is tagged with #eli's writing stuff

For my original fiction and art, see my main - @eli-writes-sometimes

#this post will be updated as i post more but i realised thatt i should probably put all my fics in one place #for the purposes of making things clear on my writing blog #but this is an idiot post for tagging reasons and bc i only post about my fics on this blog #also the link to the tag probably wont work and i apologise in advance #sfth #hfwu #shoot from the fic #eli's writing stuff

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letgraysonsheart · 5 years ago

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Ugh today i got that huge official "not passed" on my math course for last semester and it just really really sucks even if i knew it was coming

#i cried when i left that exam #id never felt more like a failure #and now im terrified of my other exams because i dont wanna fail them too #because how the hell am i gonna fix that #not dc #elie talks #personal #dont reblog

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muskywolfthings · 2 years ago

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((This started off as a drabble while I was at work, a few more sentences than what I posted over on twitter a day ago. And then just...kept going lol. Enjoy :3))

Stiles moving back to Beacon Hills, just to find Derek- his old crush- has himself a mini me.

Eli.

Suddenly Stiles has a partner in crime to annoy Derek with. He’s just like Stiles, only supernaturally enhanced, so the shit they can get up to, to get on Derek’s nerves? Endless

Eli is obsessed with Stiles- which grates on Derek’s nerves in general, since all the young wolf can talk about is Stiles, when he isn’t texting the man- but Stiles loves everything Eli loves! They listen to the same music, even wear the same clothes! And Stiles works remote now for the FBI, so he may be gone a few days so month, but for the most part, he’s always in town.

Eli refuses to drive anything but the jeep when he’s practicing for his drivers exam, much to Derek’s annoyance. Stiles starts picking Eli up from school every day, which Derek wants to be angry about, but it gives him time to close up the auto body shop comfortably, and not worry about what sort of delinquency Eli is getting up to.

At least, getting up to /alone/. As he’s received several texts from the sheriff about Stiles and Eli’s traffic violations as of late. The only thing keeping Derek from being completely mortified was the fact that John sounded like a tired grandfather, not the sheriff making a tough call to a parent. It was…strange.

As the months went on, Derek couldn’t tell who he was becoming more jealous of: Stiles, or Eli. Derek had never really found a way to /fit/ with Stiles. All those years ago, all the things they both left unsaid. Derek supposed he’d maybe see the man around a holiday or two a year, If that, long after they’d both forgotten what it felt like. When they used to be left alone together.

But now he sees Stiles every single day. Multiple times a day. It was annoying as fuck, until one day it just…wasn’t.

He still gets miffed, especially when Eli treats Stiles like he’s the better parent.

Ya know. Since Stiles ISNT EVEN HIS DAD.

But fuck all if Eli believes that. He runs to Stiles with every little complaint, ESPECIALLY the ones involving Derek. Derek never assumed raising a teenager would be easy, but Jesus Christ did Eli love pitching a fit over every little teeny tiny discrepancy. Derek wasn’t even like that as a teenager! Hell, Eli reminded him much more of Laura than anyone at that age.

And yes, sometimes that was endearing, and a nice trip down memory lane.

But most of the time it was a fucking headache from hell. Derek wasn’t even supposed to get headaches! But here they were.

It comes to a head when Derek argues with Eli over lacrosse, of all things, one night. Eli has never fully mastered his shift. He's clumsy, and he bruises easily, and he hasn't learned to heal yet. So he's more...fragile, then Derek had ever expected him to be, at 14. And Derek tries, he really does. He tries for patience, and understanding, but his old doubts, both in himself, and others, rear their head when Eli screams at Derek. About not really caring, not really listening. About wanting someone else for a son. Not appreciating Eli for who he is. What he is.

Derek shouts back, all angry brows, and red Alpha eyes. But Eli doesn't cower back. He grows red in the face as he screams at his dad, before storming out of the house. Derek goes to chase after him, but he knows it'll only make things worse. Besides, he knows where Eli is going.

So he shoots Stiles a quick text, making sure the younger man keeps an eye out for when his son gets there- as its begun to drizzle, and Eli is prone to getting sniffly sometimes if he's out in the rain. Derek's tired, and emotional, and he just wishes Stiles was /there/. There in their house, under the same roof, to help Derek. To put a hand on his shoulder like he used to. Reassure the older Hale he was doing his best, and step in to help.

Derek would kiss his knuckles, and thank him, and they'd both talk to Eli and make things work. Then he'd take Stiles upstairs to bed, and the rest would fall into place.

Maybe soon, Derek thought to himself, setting his phone aside and pinching at the bridge of his nose. Another migraine coming on.

Eli would show up on Stiles' porch- soaked, and sniffling- eyes red and puffy. Both from the weather, and from crying frustrated tears all the way to Stiles' house. He'd be panting, and crying- forcing his way into Stiles' arms, and holding onto the man tight. Eli was so young, but he was already just as tall as Stiles. Broad in the shoulders, like his dad, but still gangly and unsure of himself. His age showing, as he let Stiles pull him inside- wrap him in a towel, before taking him upstairs to his room.

Stiles held Eli for a while, ruffling his hair with the towel, and drying off his face- smiling that perfect, soft smile, that he saved only for the littlest Hale, as he detached himself long enough to get Eli a change of clothes. An old FBI sweatshirt, and some sleep shorts. Before they were both falling back into Stiles' bed, in the dark. The only light in the room Stiles' alarm clock.

And then Eli's eyes. A bright gold in the dark, cast over Stiles' face, as Eli moved to hover over him. Eyes searching, scanning. Waiting. Stiles' breath hitched, and he jerked back into the pillows slightly as Eli leaned forward- eyes pleading, before he brushed his lips gently against Stiles'. A whimper leaving his throat, as he clenched his eyes shut. Casting them both into darkness, and he kissed Stiles with everything he had.

Stiles had all of ten seconds to feel bad about what was happening- before he brought Eli back in as close as possible- kissing the boys lips with a passion he hadn't given anyone in ten years. Maybe even longer. It was wet, and sloppy- Eli's first kiss ever, and it showed. But Stiles ate it up. Coordinated them. Brought Eli into his lap, and ravished the boys lips for half an hour. Leaving them bitten, and swollen- Eli panting into his mouth, smelling like puppy breath, and jolly ranchers.

"I love you," Eli admitted, voice high, and needy, as he stripped himself of his sweatshirt, and tried to rid Stiles of his tanktop.

"I love you too, pup." Stiles sighed, sliding up and out of bed, thinking of Derek suddenly as he stripped first himself, then Eli down- the young wolfs eyes glowing once more as Stiles crawled over him, and took the fat heft of his teenage cock into his palm. Stroking him slowly, gathering precum in the folds of Eli's sticky foreskin, before pulling down and letting it spill out along the teens shaft.

Stiles thought of Derek, and how he'd dreamed of doing this with him for so long. How he still dreamed of it, on dark, stormy nights like this one. Alone with his thoughts in his big empty house. And now? Now he had Eli. Sweet, wonderful little Eli, writhing and moaning for Stiles to taste him. Right there in his house.

Just as big, but not so empty now. Not when Stiles had a teen wolf in his bed to worship.

He'd seen when Eli started looking at him differently weeks ago. Thought he'd address it when the time came. Stiles had never once thought he'd be so easily persuaded, by the boys beautiful eyes, and needy lips. But as soon as he'd grown the balls to kiss a grown man, it's like Stiles' world flipped upside down. He wanted nothing BUT Eli.

Derek would kill him. Derek would /murder/ him, if he ever found out. He'd tear Stiles limb from limb, steal Eli away and get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible.

"Please," Eli begged, reaching down to stroke his cock- hand scratching through his unkept pubes- the scent of the boys musk wafting up, and causing Stiles to drool as he dipped his head down- nosing along the boys cock, and sniffing deep in the crease of his balls. Eli throwing his head back to moan as Stiles began expertly polishing his greasy teenage nuts off. One long hand wrapped around his cock, Eli was helpless to do anything but watch as Stiles worshipped him. Balls first, then slurping on the tip of his sticky cock- then peeling the skin back, to sniff and lick at the funky tip of his dick.

Eli would be embarrassed, able to smell how ripe he was, the more Stiles worked him over. He'd be more embarrassed, if it weren't for the way Stiles was dining on his stink like a four course meal, that is. Making the most delicious noises Eli had ever heard! One hand cupping and rolling the teens balls, the other scratching through his wiry pubes as he was deepthroated within an inch of his life.

He couldn't have been in Stiles' mouth for more than thirty seconds, before his back was arching, and he was roaring out his release- fangs elongated, eyes a blazing gold, and claws digging gashes deep into Stiles' sheets.

His wolf out didn't last long though. He fell back against the bed with a cut off sigh- Stiles pouncing back on his chest- kissing Eli with a mouthful of the teens cum- hands in Eli's long hair to keep him close as they kissed, and passed the teens cumshot back and forth, till it was all swallowed up.

"Dad...is gonna...kill me.." Eli panted wrapping his arms around Stiles- a laugh bubbling up out of his throat as he was rolled over onto his side. Stiles kissing up along his neck, and cheek. Peppering kisses anywhere he could.

"You and me both, kid. You and me both."

#stiles stilinski #eli hale #derek hale #steli

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lyriakisser · 2 years ago

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aww man :[ at lwast uu got a cinnamoroll plush tho !!! hes one of my fav sanrio charas teehee ☆ also id love to see it if uu dont mind sharing ofc >:D 👍 /nf AND YEAH CONS R SO FUCKING COOL !!! THE LAST TIME I WENT I ACTUALLY GOT PICS OF SOME WXS COSPLAYERS IT WAS THE COOLEST EVER ( also saw one aira cos but they were too far away for me to ask for pics :sad: there were so many cool ppl ) !!!!!! im hoping i can go to the same con next year :]]

also since im getting another job over the summer i shld be able to buy more cool stuff !! i used to have a job but i quit bc i was roughing thru exams. lmao !! the only good thing abt growing up a bit . . . money 🎉✨️ ( simultaneously the worst thkng tho. eww working jobs ) i currently have $250ish to my name tho so !!! im so rich i can buy wtvr i want :sugar mommy: /JOKE I LOVE UU SOSOO MUCH TOO BTW <33 the only ever :33 !!!!

HERE HE IS this took way longer than it could have took if i just got up BUT WHATEVER there he is!!!!! i love himsomuch

remember those. Cinnamoroll layouts i made for you..... THEY LOOK HORRIBLE TO ME NOW HOW DID YOU EVEN USED THEM RWJGJSHGFH alsoalso uhm. everytime i see Cinnamoroll i think about you.iamnotgay DJAKFJSKNFBD AND YEYAYAYAYYAYS REAL CONS ARE SO FUCKING COOL!!!! i dont remember if i ever took photos with cosplayers i think i did on one but i was still pretty young back then aaaaaaaa... when i was stupid and dumb and didnt know a single thing... good times.. WOWOOWOWOWOWO WXS COSPLAYERS?!?! we didnt have those back in my daysHDJAJFJWJGJ ANDD IF YOU DO GO TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT WEHEHEHEHE~,, OHHHH NO WONDER YOU DO HAVE MONEY IM STILL PRETTY FUCKING YOUNG TO EVEN THINK OF WORKING EAJJRKWBFJR i really wanna live that experience even when i know it may be awful tho bweeeeeee i love idealizing the almost adult life HDJABFBSB AND WHAT THE HELL TAHTS A SHIT TON OF MONEY HOLY....... ELIE BILLIONAIRE REAL WOAHG!!!!!! Aalso hey what ofyou mean the only ever Elie that is kinda gay....blushes..iloveyou......

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snelbz · 5 years ago

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Puppy Love {Elorcan Angst/Smut}

A/N: Collab with @tacmc. Let’s be honest. This is pure smut with a thinly veiled plot. And we have no shame.

WC: 5,161

Lorcan’s fist slammed against the door again, the reverberations shooting up his arm and causing the pictures on the wall to rattle.

“Open the fucking door, Elide!”

There was no response from inside.

The silence only made it worse, only made him angrier, only made him panicked.

“Elide,” he said, voice low, trying a calmer approach, but it only made his hands shake at his sides.

He waited.

Took a deep breath.

Two.

Nothing.

He slammed on the door, continuously, wanting to break it down, but using his fist as cordially as he could muster, instead.

“Elide, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”

The words had flowed from his mouth before he could stop them, constantly said by his friends on the team, but as a joke.

The lack of reply told him everything he needed to know.

He heard the key in the front door behind him, but it was already unlocked, and the door opened freely.

Manon and Asterin Blackbeak entered the apartment, the cousins’ eyes narrowing as they saw him standing outside Elide’s bedroom door.

“What are you doing here, Lorcan?”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, knocking on Elides bedroom, once again.

“Go home,” Manon snapped, walking up beside him and pushing him out of the way. “El? It’s Manon. We brought you food.”

They waited for a moment, but still nothing came. Manon slowly turned to Lorcan, golden eyes narrowed. Asterin had taken a seat on the couch, clearly ready to watch the show.

“Why are you still here?” Manon asked, voice low, the to go box with Elide’s breako clutched in her hands. “I told you to go home.”

“I’m here for Eli-.”

“I know why you’re here, but this is my apartment, too, and I’m telling you to go home,” she said, voice rising with every word.

Before Lorcan could reply, which was probably for the best, the door creaked open slightly.

Manon surged forward, entering before Lorcan, but he looked in. And what he saw made his chest crack in two.

Elide’s eyes were red and puffy. She glanced up at him, and he could see the pain his words had caused.

He hadn’t known she was there, she’d told him she wasn’t coming to the party because she would be studying for their bio chem exam. The game of Never Have I Ever started out innocently enough, teammates asking about stupid pranks and injuries. And then one of them had to bring up Elide.

“Be honest, Salvaterre. You’ve hit that, right?”

Gods, only in his wildest dreams. But he couldn’t tell them that. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Of course not, have you seen her?” He’d taken a drink from his beer, draining the cup, and although his friends’ eyes had gone wide, he’d assumed it was just due to the bluntness of his words. He continued. “She’s cute, but she’s too cute. It’d be like fucking a puppy.”

He stood, heading for the keg for a refill.

And she’d been standing there, in the doorway, tears already streaming down her beautiful face.

Lorcan froze, unsure of what to do next. He wanted to run to her, but that hesitation cost him. She shook her head and ran herself, fleeing the party and getting far as hell away from him.

Now, the next morning, sober enough to get to her, Lorcan was in her apartment, heart breaking at the damage he’d caused.

“Elide,” he said, breathing her name, his eyes widening at her distress, but she just shook her head and went to close the door.

But he stopped it with his hand and took a step toward her.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He whispered. “Please, just, give me a minute to explain.”

“If you enjoy having those fingers,” Manon crooned, the words a promise rather than a threat, “you’ll let go of the door before I shut them in it.”

He bared his teeth. “I don’t recall you being a part of this, Blackbeak.”

Her golden eyes were damn near glowing with anger. “You made me a part of this when you made her cry.”

The door slammed shut, and if Lorcan hadn’t jerked his hand back at the last second, Manon’s promise would have been fulfilled.

“Why don’t you run back home to your dogs?” Asterin asked from behind him.

His shoulders slumped as he ran his hands frustratingly through his dark, tangled hair. He slowly turned to face her, all the anger having faded. Now, he was just tired. Now, he just felt like shit. Now, he had lost his best friend, the woman he was in love with, and wasn’t going anywhere until she spoke to him.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to her,” he said, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard through the door, but keeping his calm.

“You’re not welcome here,” she said, her voice sharp. “And your name isn’t on the lease. So I suggest you get out before we call-.”

Elide’s bedroom door opened and Manon stepped out. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. “If I hear so much as one sob from her, if I hear her crying at all, I will come in there and I will personally rip your balls off one by one and feed them to you.”

Lorcan’s eyebrow rose and rather than be concerned for his own safety, he was wondering what kind of kinky shit Dorian Havilliard was into if these were the kind of threats his fiancée made.

Elide stood in her doorway, clearly waiting for him to enter, but she wouldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t look up from the fuzzy Christmas socks she wore, regardless of the fact that it was barely October.

He entered the room and Elide shut the door and locked it. She said nothing, leaning against her desk and crossing her arms over her chest.

Lorcan wasn’t sure to begin. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million things he should say, but none of them were coming out. Instead, a horrendous amount of stuttering was taking place when he opened his lips to attempt an apology. “Elide... I... Look... just- th-I...” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had never been good at apologizing - he’d had very little practice. It definitely wasn’t something he was known for.

When he opened his eyes, once again, Elide was watching him, but he quickly broke her gaze. He’d been in her room countless times, but this time felt different. Not only because he was an asshole and couldn’t make it right, but because he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and lay her down, apologize with his actions instead of his words, but that was a pointless ideology to have.

“El,” he began, again, speaking slower so that his words didn’t get jumbled. “I fucked up and I’m sorry, oka-.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper. The pain in her eyes was unbearable, but Lorcan deserved to look at the pain he’d caused, even if it felt like a punch in his gut. “Why would you say that about me?”

He sighed, dragging his hand through his hair again. “Because I was trying to save face. Because I was trying to uphold my tough guy reputation. And-.”

“And you could never do that with me, because it’d be too cute?” Her voice was like ice, he’d never heard her so cold.

“That came out wrong, it’s not-.”

She laughed and it sounded so much like Galathynius that he cringed slightly. “How does it’d be like fucking a puppy come out right, Lorcan?” He was ashamed because she was absolutely right. “Just admit you got caught being an asshole and-.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do’,” he said, his voice raising of its own accord. “That’s exactly what you caught me doing! And I’m trying to apologize. What I said was fucked up.”

“It’s not even that it was fucked up, Lorcan.” She shook her head and chewed on her lip. “It’s that you said it. My best friend, my Lorcan, would never say that about me.”

She was right. Lorcan ran a hand down his face and stared at his feet. She was right. She deserved better than that. She deserved someone who would never say such a thing, whether he came to regret it or not. His apologies meant nothing, because she deserved people in her life who didn’t have to apologize.

“You’re right,” he breathed, refusing to meet her gaze. “You’re right, and I can apologize all I want to, but it won’t really make a difference, will it?” He looked up at her then, and those tears continued to stream silently down her face. “I went home after you left last night and I laid in bed and I couldn’t fucking sleep and all I could think about was the look on your face when I turned around and saw you there. I hurt you, Elide, and I usually don’t feel bad about the shit that I do, but when I saw the look on your face…” His words trailed off, and he shook his head. “I realized that when I leave this place in a year, everything I’ve done to uphold the reputation of what this fucked up school expects me to be will mean nothing. When I’m gone from here, I may be known as a good football player, sure, but what’s the point of that? I realized, last night, after being a complete dick, was that I don’t care about any of that. When I’m gone from here, Elide, the only thing that I want to take with me is you. Not my reputation or my legacy or whatever the fuck else. Just you.”

She was shaking her head, the tears coming faster and faster. “We’ve been friends for years, Lorcan. You’ve been my best friend since I was fifteen and I have never imagined you talked about me like that when I wasn’t there. Is that how Rowan talks about Aelin?” Lorcan opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “Of course he isn’t. Because he doesn’t give a shit what people think about him. He loves her and he wants every person he meets to know it. And with how we’ve been recently, I thought maybe you-.” Her voice broke and she shook her head. “Nevermind.”

He knew what she was about to say. For the past few weeks, it hadn’t been their entire group of friends hanging out. It had just been them.

It started out studying for a quiz, but then they decided to grab lunch. She asked if he wanted to meet for coffee. He asked if she needed a ride to class. There had been more accidental touches, less awkward silences. Things between them had finally felt...right.

And now he’d gone and fucked it up.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he breathed.

But she was shaking her head as she took a slow, shaky breath. “Just lea-.”

“No,” he interrupted. It was the one thing he wouldn’t do. “Don’t tell me to leave, Elide, I’m not going anywhere until I make this right, I have to make this right, let me make this right.”

“There is nothing to make up for, Lor,” she said, quietly, her voice small. “Just….please, leave.”

He didn’t.

He stayed put, exactly where he was and said, “I love you. I’ve loved you for years, but I never knew how to tell you.”

She was shaking her head. “You’re just saying that to try and-.”

“If you think I’d use your feelings for me like that, you don’t know me.”

“I feel like I don’t!” She said, tears falling again, though they’d never really stopped. “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you tell me that you love me? And now you say it and I can’t even tell if you mean it.”

Lorcan ran his hands down his face and let out a deep, frustrated growl. “Damn it, Elide! You know me! You’ve known me for years! How many times have I ever told anyone that I’ve loved them?” He took a step closer to her, hesitantly, but to his satisfaction and relief, she didn’t back away. “I am so in love with you. I’m an idiot, and an asshole, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than me, El, but I fucking love you, am so undeniably in love with you.”

She didn’t move, didn't blink, hardly breathed.

“I love you,” he repeated, quietly.

She was quiet for a long while, and Lorcan could see the internal battle going on in those dark eyes. But when she finally spoke, the words she whispered were the last thing he expected.

“Prove it.”

He didn’t give himself time to think, didn’t stop to consider whether there was another way to show her how much he cared. He closed the last couple of steps between them and pressed his lips to hers, not as gentle as he’d imagined their first kiss would be, but he didn’t care. He just needed to show her how much he cared.

And if he couldn’t do that with his words, he’d do that with his actions.

She gasped at the contact, her body going rigid at first, but it soon relaxed. His tongue slipped inside of her mouth, between her lips, brushing alongside her own, as her hands wrapped around his neck. He pulled her closer to him, his arms snaking around her waist, his mouth crushing against hers with such desperation that he had to remind himself to breathe.

He kissed her again and again, slowly, passionately, his teeth clashing against hers. He should probably calm down, probably be more gentle, take it slower, but he couldn’t convince himself to.

He had wanted to kiss her for far too long.

He pulled away, his forehead pressed against hers and breathed, “Do you believe me now?”

She didn’t say a word, couldn’t remember her own name. The only thing she could do was lean up on her toes and crash her lips against hers again.

Lorcan practically growled as he knitted his hand into her hair and their words were no longer needed.

His back was straining from where he was having to lean down to kiss her, so his hands made a slow, deliberated path down her body, until he was cupping her ass. He lifted her and she gasped, legs wrapping around his waist.

Elide’s back pressed up against the door as he kissed her and her hands dove into his hair. His lips left hers and instead trailed kisses down her neck, to the hollow of her throat and then to spot where her neck met her shoulder and he sucked. The quiet moan that fell from her lips had his teeth biting down on the soft skin, his tongue soothing the ache a moment later.

There was a banging next to her head. “Are you fucking kidding me, El?”

Lorcan’s head snapped up, meeting Elide’s bright, humored eyes and her pale, flushed cheeks.

“Fuck off,” Lorcan called back, but his tone was light as he met Elide’s lips with his own.

If they were bothered by the sweet little moans coming out of her mouth now, Lorcan couldn’t wait for their reaction when she was screaming his name.

Elide was smiling into his mouth as she pulled on his shirt, a silent question with no hesitation. Lorcan leaned back, pressing her up against the wall with his hips as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Elide had seen him shirtless before, at the beach and pool parties and while he practiced football, but she had never reached out and traced the tattoo across his chest as she was doing now. Lorcan’s eyes closed, enthralled by her featherlike touch against his skin.

They heard someone call, “Traitor!” before a bedroom door closed down the hall.

When he opened his eyes, he found her staring at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. He reached out, skimming his thumb over the flush high on her cheekbone and then down to that sinful lip. He worked it out from her teeth and whispered, “What do you want, Elide?”

He had imagined this for so long, spent some many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, pretending it was hers. But he wouldn’t pressure her into anything, wanted her to make that decision on her own. Because, gods, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to make her moan loud enough for the witches down the hall to hear. But he’d wait if she wasn’t ready.

“You,” she breathed. “All of you. Now.”

The slight whimper in her tone, laced into those words, had him instantly hard. He carried her to the foot of her bed and gently laid her down before climbing on top of her, his lips finding hers once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked, terrified to ask it, but felt he had to. And yet, he didn’t break contact with her lips.

“Yes,” she begged, and that was all the permission he needed.

His hips fell into hers and she gasped from the feel of him as his hand snaked up her stomach, to her breast, underneath her old tee.

She wasn’t wearing a bra so there was nothing to stop him from palming her breast and gently tweaking a nipple. The gasp that left her had him grinding his hips into hers and pulling back to look down at her.

His hand left her chest to grab the hem of her shirt - his high school football shirt, he realized with a purr of male satisfaction - and lifted it, revealing those magnificent breasts he’d always tried so hard not to stare at whenever they were even minutely displayed. But now he could stare all he wanted, he could drink in his fill of the expanse of tan skin in front of him. Of the dark pink nipples, peaked in the air, just begging for his teeth to tug on them.

He observed her, worshipped her with his eyes as they grazed over her breasts, her abdomen, down to the leggings that began at her waist. His hand slid beneath her ass as his lips trailed down her neck, between her breasts, over that peaked nipple where his lips wrapped around and he sucked, lightly.

Her slim fingers tangled into his messy hair as her breathing quickened. Lorcan’s teeth tugged her nipple, ever so slightly, as he pushed down the waistband of her leggings.

Elide lifted her ass to help, her little sign of permission.

Lorcan gripped the fabric and ripped them off, tossing them to the side and letting his fingers play up and down the insides of her thighs. With every pass, he moved closer and closer to the apex of her thighs, and she writhed more and more as he teased her. She whimpered and he pulled back to look at her, a smirk on his lips.

She sat up, pulling her shirt over her head and hooking her thumbs in the lace boy shorts she was wearing. She scooted to the head of the bed, her back hitting her pillows, and she opened her legs for him.

She was completely bare and Lorcan thought he might actually combust. His cock was so hard, he was in physical pain.

For a second, he remained still, his breathing heavy as his eyes trailed down her body, and back up again. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off. He was perfectly aware where her wide eyes lingered as his boxer shorts quickly followed. He went to climb back up her body, but she put a steady hand against his chest and subtly shook her head.

Lorcan froze, but she only whispered, “Sit.”

He obeyed without protest, sitting, leaning back against the pillows up against her headboard.

Then Elide was crawling on his lap, straddling his waist, his cock standing tall, teasing between her thighs.

She reached down, gripping him in her hand and he hissed at the contact. Stroking him twice, she rubbed the tip between her folds, the slick heat making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

She pressed his length flat against his stomach, grinding her hips along him. He groaned, gripping them and helping her move.

He licked one of his thumbs and pressed it to her clit, rubbing a slow circle in time with her hips. She whimpered again and he looked up at her. There was a look in her eyes that had him pausing. “What is it, baby?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Nothing, it’s just I-.” She chuckled again, moving her hips deliberately slowly. “That is not going to fit inside of me.”

A dark laugh left him and the sound itself gave her chills. He reached up, pulling her lips down to meet his and breathed, “Don’t worry, baby, it will. It will and I’m going to make you feel so good.”

She laughed, breathlessly, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The grin he gave her as she leaned back sent chills down her spine, as her hips paused. She reached down beneath her and grabbed his cock, with gentle hands, and ran a thumb over the tip before lining him up with her opening.

Lorcan’s grin faded as his head fell back against the pillows and he took her hips into his hands. She stayed like that for a moment, and it nearly drove him insane but then she slowly pushed herself down on him, just a little bit, just a tease.

The only reason Lorcan didn’t slam her down, taking her as deeply as he could, was because she was right. Lorcan’s member was larger than most and Elide’s small stature meant she was going to have to get used to his size.

So instead, he began to rock her again, pushing her hips down little by little, until most of his length was inside of her. She was gasping and he was damn near holding his breath.

She was tight. She was so fucking tight.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she breathed, her hands pressed to his chest, “Just a minute.”

Lorcan nodded, reaching up and brushing his thumb over her nipple. He’d wait. He’d go slow. He’d do whatever she asked of him, just as long as he was inside of her.

But then she started to roll her hips on top of him, her eyes fluttering shut, her head tilting back. Her hands remained on his chest as she did so, and Lorcan couldn’t help but watch, his breathing ragged as her slim hips moved in a slow, steady circle. He cursed under his breath as she continued, moving herself up and down on top of him. She went slow, was hesitant, cautious, but persistent. And when she started to become more comfortable, she only quickened her pace, her tits bouncing in front of his face.

He swore, his voice low, his hands gripping her hips as she moved, as she rode him slowly, but relentlessly. The quicker she moved, the deeper that crease between her brows became, the more her nails dug into his skin, into his shoulders.

He did his best to let her lead, to let her control the pace, but when his name fell from her lips, the breathy moan bouncing off the walls, his control broke.

He held her in place above him and lifted his hips, snapping them into her, making her cry out. She fell on top of him and his mouth latched to her breast, while his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her in place. The noises she made were music to his ears and he reached down and grabbed her ass, kneading the curve in his hand.

There was a sharp smack and Elide cried out, clamping down on Lorcan’s cock.

She sat up, her hands on his chest again. An eyebrow raised, she asked, “Did you just smack my ass?”

Lorcan squeezed where his hand had just made contact, smirking. “Depends. Did you like it?”

A grin broke out across her lips as she said, “Try it again and I’ll let you know.”

He did as she asked, and pushed herself down on him until she was full of him and Lorcan was watching her with dark, humored eyes.

“I never knew you were so naughty,” he whispered.

She leaned down to nip at his bottom lip. “You have a lot to learn about me, Lorcan Salvaterre.”

All of his control escaped him.

Lorcan flipped her over, his lips instantly connecting with her neck. He sucked the tender skin, his tongue moving in circles as her moans continued to fill the air.

He was certain Manon was furious.

The walls were thin.

And Lorcan didn’t give a fuck.

Her legs wrapped around his body as he thrust his hips into hers, just once, with as much force as he could conjure. She gasped, gripping his back, and muttered a curse.

Lorcan pulled her hands from him and pinned them above her head with one of his. Lorcan pulled back, almost all the way out, and their eyes connected. Again, Lorcan snapped his hips into her and Elide was unable to stop the scream that fell from her lips. “Fuck, Lorcan, please!”

Again, and again, and again, he thrust into her slowly, deliberately. Every time, Elide cried out and Lorcan pressed his thumb into her clit.

Elide cried out, but Lorcan thrived on the sounds tumbling from her lips, the sounds she was unable to stop. He picked up to a steady pace, his skin growing damp with sweat as he made love to her, fucked her as he had in his mind so many times. It was finally a reality. It was happening, and Lorcan was desperate to make it one to remember.

He loved this woman.

And gods it felt good being inside of her.

A loud bang came from the door. “We’re leaving you, nymphomaniacs. We’ll be back later.”

At that moment, Lorcan’s cock hit that illustrious spot inside her and Elide cried out, her legs shaking and Lorcan groaned as she became unbearably tight.

“Fuck you, too,” Manon yelled, and the outside door fell shut.

Lorcan wasted no time in taking advantage of their solitude, picking her up and putting her back against the door once more. The door shook with every thrust of his hips, his hands on both side of her head, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

He didn’t hold back, was tired of holding back, as he pushed into her, over and over again, relentlessly, faster and harder. The more she cried out, the more those little sounds escaped her, the faster he went, the more he lost control.

Manon was gone.

Asterin was gone.

He and Elide were alone in her apartment, and he would not take that lightly.

His hips connected with hers so forcefully, his cock slamming into her vigorously, that those little sounds flowing from her mouth became mute. Her face was distorted in pleasure, her breathing becoming heavier.

Lorcan was on the verge of losing himself completely.

One of her hands was in his hair, tugging on the long strands and spurning on his merciless pace. The other clutched at her breast, pinching and tugging on her nipple, kneading the soft flesh.

One of his own covered the other and he growled, “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

She let her hand skim down her body and she touched herself, gasping at all of the sensations coming together. “No,” she groaned. “But I’ve always caught you staring.”

“Oh, really?” He brought his thrusts to a torturously slow pace, but they were no less brutal.

“It’s not like you tried to hide it,” she said, giggling softly, only cut off by her gasps, her moans, every time he slammed into her.

Lorcan decided he would never grow tired of it, those sounds.

It only pushed him further. His teeth found her shoulder and he bit into her flesh as he pounded into her, without boundaries. He became one with her as she clung to him, unaware of the rest of the world, unaware of anything but she and him.

Then he was close.

So fucking close.

But he begged himself to hold on, a little while longer, if only so he could listen to the sounds falling from her lips. That could only last for so long though.

“I’m gonna cum,” he said, breath hissing through his teeth.

“Me too,” she said, voice no louder than a whisper. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back and her breathing was shallow. Lorcan watched, watched as her chest began to heave, breasts bouncing. She continued to play with herself, one of the hottest fucking things he’d ever seen, and after a minute, he felt her getting tighter and tighter.

She moaned his name one last time before she fell over the edge, crying out.

He felt her come around him, felt her juices flood out over him, and the sensation had him approaching a climax of his own. He cursed, deeply, brutally, fully captivated by the beauty before him, as he pulled out and came on top of the soft, ivory skin of her abdomen. His head fell back, his eyes closed, and he groaned as he rode it out.

For a moment, he said nothing. He only pressed his lips upon her shoulders, her neck, her lips, as his climax came and faded away.

Elide was the first one to speak, breaking the silence and saying, “With how all of thia started, thanks for not fucking me doggy style.”

Lorcan laughed, the sound full and bright, and kissed her before laying her on the bed. He grabbed a towel from her attached bathroom and cleaned her up before laying next to her and gathering her in his arms.

He was almost asleep when she murmured, “Only eight-forty-five in the morning and I’ve already had three orgasms.” His eyes snapped open and he looked down at her.

“Three?” He asked. He could only think of two times she’d cum: once, right when he’d gotten on top, and then at the end.

She smirked and said, “What can I say? I couldn’t sleep last night.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut without saying a word. She laughed at his speechlessness, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You have no idea the way I feel about you, the way I think about you.”

Lorcan chuckled, pulling her closer to him beneath the blankets. “Trust me, I have a pretty good idea.”

#throne of ashes and beauty #tacmc #tacmc toab tag team #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #elorcan smut #elorcan #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan #throne of glass

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 years ago

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Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 1

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Set Up: You are an outcast at the Imperial Academy, which means your only options for friends are the tall and stoic Chiss Mitth'raw'nuruodo and his translator from Wild Space Eli Vanto. The three of you get along, for the most part... Thrawn is obsessed with acing all the exams, Eli is desperate to show up his classmates, and you... well, you just want to feel like you belong somewhere. And hiding beneath it all are your unspoken feelings, longing to be realized, but fearful of ruining the balance of your trio's friendship....

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 1: The Problem

Pairing: None yet, just a nice friendship trio

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

You wound down the hallways of the building with a scowl on your face. You would never grow used to this ridiculously long walk, from your first class of the day to the next, so conveniently located on complete opposite sides of the facility. Whoever had designed your schedule this year was either an utter imbecile or had done so on purpose, just to tick you off. At this point in your education here at the Imperial Academy, you knew either scenario was equally likely. You weren't exactly liked by the staff or your peers, and there were plenty of idiots to go around.

The one saving grace of your journey was that you would eventually cross paths with the only two friends you had managed to make in this elitist hell-hole: Eli Vanto and Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Eli would be the first, his class letting out just a few corridors away from yours. He was leaning against an alcove in the wall just out of the way of passing traffic, his usual spot. When you rounded the corner, he pushed off and fell into step beside you.

"What happened?" you asked, having noticed he was scowling as well. His resting face usually made him look like a sad puppy, so for him to have such a prominent frown this early in the morning, something really upsetting must have happened.

"Lost the debate," he grumbled.

Ah, you'd forgotten he had that today. You and Thrawn had helped him practice for weeks, covering every possible argument and rebuttal from his opponent on the assigned topic. He had it in the bag, or so you'd all thought.

"What? How? Don't tell me you got stage-fright."

He glared over at you. "No, I wasn't nervous or anything. I did everything perfect. But all Arden had to do was throw in a few snide remarks about my accent and that got the whole class turned in his favor."

Eli started biting down on one of his nails in frustration. You frowned along with him. That was a variable none of you had accounted for while practicing.

"Is Arden the pimply-faced guy?"

"Yeah."

"Hate him," you muttered.

"Yeah."

The two of you paused at the doors of a lift, waiting for the previous occupants to exit before filing in yourselves and punching the button for the next level up. Eli was still chewing on his nails.

"Stop," you exclaimed, swatting his hand away from his mouth. "I told you that's a bad habit."

"Oh yeah, what's this then?" He grabbed one of your hands and twisted it around so you could see the splotches of chipped polish on your nails.

You jerked your hand away and held it defensively against your chest. "There's only so much I can do with this insane caseload, okay? I haven't had time to think about my nails."

"Then why'd you paint 'em in the first place?" he said with a bit of a laugh. Well, at least his mood was improving, even if it was at your expense.

You swatted at him just as the lift doors opened. "Maybe I want to try feeling pretty sometimes, not like some zombie student."

You both were keenly aware that the cadets waiting to board the lift had backed up significantly as you passed, despite not having been in your way at all. They were all whispering too, and by the tone, it was probably not about very nice things. It was always like that, wherever you went. Even if they didn't know your reputations of being from wild, "backwater" planets, they need only hear one of you speak to know you were different. And in these Core worlds, different was inferior.

"You know you don't have to follow our course map, right?" Eli spoke up again, once you'd put some distance between the lift of sneering cadets. "Me, I don't have a choice. Thrawn's determined to graduate in as little time as possible, and I'm the sorry sucker who has to follow 'im. I'd run far away from the guy if I were you. Enjoy your freedom."

Eli complained about the last member of your trio, Thrawn, at least six times a day. And half of those complaints ended with him telling you to make a break for it. You knew he didn't mean any of it; the two of you had spent the last holiday break at a bar, and in his drunkenness, Eli had confessed to being secretly grateful for having met the Chiss. He only complained to cope with the stress.

And you... well, you weren't really sure why they let you hang around. They'd both easily become your closest friends, but you weren't always sure where you stood with them. Maybe they did like your company. Or maybe they just felt sorry for you. They were both friendly enough, allowing you to join them on Thrawn's "fast track" out of the Academy. But you had a feeling that as soon as you all graduated, they'd leave you behind and move on to whatever mission the Emperor had planned for Thrawn in the Navy.

You tried not to think about it too much.

Speaking of your friend, Mitth'raw'nuruodo emerged from a classroom doorway just a few paces ahead. Right on time, as always. His specialized "tactical statistics" class ended several minutes ago, but he had learned to carefully time your path so he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly in the hall waiting. It was for the best; you and Eli may sometimes draw unwanted attention, but poor Thrawn always stood out like a very big, very blue sore thumb.

"We have a problem," he stated, coming up on your other side. You never had to ask Thrawn what was wrong; if he had a problem worth sharing, you would hear about it.

"Hallway problem or 'fresher problem?" asked Eli.

You'd all agreed long ago there were some topics of conversation best had out of earshot from any passerby. And since most scurried out of the refresher whenever Thrawn went in, that became the only suitable place for such conversations, if it couldn't wait until your dorms at the end of the day.

"Refresher," Thrawn said. He looked down at you. "You'll be late for your class."

You shrugged. "If it's important...."

"It is."

You trusted him; he wasn't the type to make up drama or blow things out of proportion. The three of you picked up the pace, turning right instead of the usual left, and slipping into the men's bathroom. Thankfully it was already empty. Eli turned the lock just in case.

Thrawn wasted no time diving into the particulars. "I have come to learn our flight instructor, Commander Burdick, intends to sabotage my simulation tests next month. He is acquainted with Admissions Supervisor Aberdeen and understands that a failing mark will require a remedial course before being allowed back into the program. This would set my graduation back several months."

That was a problem. The flight course was one of the longer ones, and mandatory, and you were all so close to finally being through with it. Just one more round of simulation tests and then an actual flight around Coruscant.

Eli was groaning by the door. "You've gotta be kidding."

"I am not," said Thrawn in a measured voice. He knew it was just an expression, but you knew it was one of his pet peeves.

Eli wasn't listening, instead kicking at the tiled floor and mumbling about how this was so typical and why can't we just be left alone.

You turned to Thrawn. "Just you?"

"The ill will seems to be mostly directed toward me. Supervisor Aberdeen does not appreciate the special provisions that have been afforded me on behalf of the Emperor, and has coerced Commander Burdick to indulge in his spitefulness. However, I would not put it past them to also have plans for either of you, as well. They are aware of our... connection."

You were certain he was about to say friendship but changed his mind. Did he not know the word for it? Was he too embarrassed to admit it? Or did he truly not see you or Eli as anything more than connections?

"Okay, but..." Eli was still processing things. "How? What's their plan?"

"I purposefully said the Commander intended to sabotage the tests. He does not yet have a plan."

"So... we stop 'im," said Eli.

"Or," you countered, a mischievous smirk playing about your lips. "We don't."

Eli merely blinked at you, but Thrawn was very interested. "Go on," he encouraged.

"If we learn what the plan is, or maybe even give him a plan of our own, then we can let it play out and ensure he gets in trouble for it."

Thrawn rubbed his chin as he considered. You knew he'd soon slip into his usual routine of pacing and muttering in unknown languages, which could take a while and make you even later for your class. You cleared your throat, drawing his two red eyes back to yours.

"Surely a Commanding Officer wouldn't dare do anything to sabotage you directly," you offered. "He'll either look for some help or pin it on someone else, in case there's an investigation."

Thrawn rubbed his chin again. "You think we should influence the Commander on who to pick to be his... what do you call it, ensipki?"

"Scapegoat," Eli said quickly. It was becoming second nature for him to translate what was left of the holes in Thrawn's understanding of Basic.

"Right, and then we can expose the deception just before the tests," you said. "Before there's time to come up with another plan."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed in thought. "A decent idea, but it would require the education of one of our fellow cadets to be jeopardized. It should not be our first plan."

"But if he's going to use one of them anyway..." you started to protest.

"Then we should seek to expose his connection to that person as well. This is an instructor who is not serving the best interest of several of his students. He should be the only one blamed."

You weren't going to let his logic win this time. As far as you could tell, this was a perfect opportunity to get revenge on your obnoxious classmates. "It's going to be a lot easier to take issue up with the Board against a student than an instructor. We can try to expose both people, but if we can't, then at least we can nail one of them. It's called a scapegoat for a reason."

Eli spoke up before Thrawn could respond, throwing you a meaningful look. "Arden's in his class. Different time, same instructor."

"Who is this Arden?" asked Thrawn.

"The racist asshole who unfairly stole Eli's grade on the debate today," you said. You'd picked your words deliberately, and it did the trick.

"Very well. We have our scapegoat," said Thrawn.

You winked at Eli and he hid a smile.

"So," Thrawn continued, fully invested now. "We will need to push Arden toward the Commander as a viable accomplice. We will need to gain insight into the details of their plan. And then we will need to ensure those details are brought to light at the right moment."

The three of you looked among each other. This was probably the tenth plan this year alone that you'd all devised to take care of some kind of "problem." Just last week Thrawn had discovered misinformation in one of your textbooks that took the three of you on a field trip to the lower levels of Coruscant to find a con-artist who'd sold a quarter-hundred counterfeit materials to the Academy library. You'd only had the weekend to catch up on all the rest of your homework, and here you all were again, ready to jump into another scheme.

You had suggested the idea, so you were already grinning and ready to go. Thrawn had just put together a to-do list, and you could almost see the gears in his head continuing to spin as he determined more points to the plan.

The deciding vote was Eli. Though he often complained about not having a choice, you and Thrawn rarely forced him to do anything and were always respectful if he had a differing opinion. This time, you had a feeling he'd be on board.

He set his hands on his hips and smirked. "Disgracing a shitty classmate and a shitty teacher in order to save our grades? Let's do it."

Next Chapter: The Plan >

#star wars #thrawn #eli vanto #thrawn x reader #eli vanto x reader #choose your own adventure #friendship #romance #mitth'raw'nuruodo

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