#inhaler imagines
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LET ME IN || elijah hewson
PAIRING: elijah x reader
WORD COUNT: 3.3k
GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort
SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.
WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops
this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw
It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands.
He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair.
You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise.
“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.
When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing.
Almost.
“Are you alright?”
It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction.
“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”
You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs.
It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push.
He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”
He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment.
“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”
Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot.
You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you?
“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face.
Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you.
“Suit yourself.”
Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days.
When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over.
You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before.
“How long did you wait for me?”
This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.
“A couple hours.”
He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes.
What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him.
Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah.
“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”
He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment?
Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”
You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night.
You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head.
“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away.
“Do you want me to leave?”
It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response.
You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”
He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different.
You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface.
The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle.
“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”
You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.
“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”
Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening.
“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.”
You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same.
You bite the inside of your cheek.
“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.”
“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”
“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”
He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode.
“Do really none of you think I can make this work?”
It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst.
It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.
“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream.
Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath.
A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.
“No.”
He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone.
“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.”
He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”
“About what?”
He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness.
“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.”
“I think you’ve got it all wrong.”
You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.”
Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul.
“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.
You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts.
Elijah’s head turns to you.
“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?”
Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away.
Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak.
“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.”
It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip.
“Promise me you won’t stop.”
Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder.
“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.
“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”
His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained.
“Why not?”
You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm.
And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed.
He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly.
“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.”
You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale.
Let me in, let me in, let me in.
He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.
His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine.
You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.
You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.
“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.
“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”
“But you’re drunk.”
“You think that’s why I did it?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”
“I don’t.”
He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision.
In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you’re not doing a very good job at it.
He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks.
“I love you.”
Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body.
Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you.
“I love you too.”
You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy.
He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.
“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.
“Yeah.”
And you smile.
He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon.
#inhaler#elijah hewson#elijah hewson x reader#inhaler dublin#inhaler x reader#inhaler imagines#ryan mcmahon#robert keating#josh jenkinson
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hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭
falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them
being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!
kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?
eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!
spending valentine’s day together!
something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?
softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!
telling each other how much they love them
them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer
hope these spark your writing :))))
Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON
here's a short little thing inspired by this request!
PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader
WORDS: 1.5k
SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.
GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff
WARNINGS: references to throwing up
I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.
I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.
I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.
Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.
-
I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.
I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.
Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.
I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.
Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.
I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.
He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.
"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.
"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.
"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.
Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.
"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.
"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.
"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.
He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.
"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.
Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.
His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.
I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.
Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.
"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.
There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.
Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.
#elijah hewson#elijah hewson oneshot#elijah hewson x reader#elijah hewson imagine#eli hewson#inhaler band#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#inhaler dublin#fanfiction#inhaler fanfiction#robert keating#bobby skeetz#josh jenkinson#ryan mcmahon#inhaler#inhaler fanfic#inhaler imagine
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photographer era [2]
my lovelies this is a long one so get yourself a cuppa and hopefully enjoy!
inhalerdublin
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inhalerdublin A huge honour to be bringing our show to @officialslanecastle this summer to support the one and only @harrystyles. We should definitely shower for this one X
See you there.
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inhalerfan1 man this is so cool
yourusername WOOO ill get the boas !! @joshjenkinson_ @bobbyskeetz @elijahhewson @ryanmcmahon_15
bobbyskeetz oh lets maybe not do that
yourusername damn my small indie band aren't that small anymore
inhalerfan2 such a mood lol
yourusername posted on their story:
elijahhewson posted on their story:
yourusername posted on their story:
yourusername
liked by evehewson and others
yourusername these lads are about to SLAY Slane castle !!
📸 are all me baby ;))
inhalerfan1 AHH they were so so great
inhalerfan2 oh come on look at that first pic of eli, if thats not love I dont know what is !
inhalerfan3 they are making it hard to not ship em
inhalerfan4 that your honour is two oblivious people IN LOVE
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inhalerdublin
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inhalerdublin We’ll never be able to fully recover from the experience of playing Slane Castle yesterday. Thank you to @harrystyles for having us open for him in such a legendary place. And to every one of you who sang our songs back to us.
See you in November Ireland x
📸 @lewevans and @yourusername
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lewevans some gig!
thescriptofficial Scenes !!!!
inhaler2 inhalerry photo when? (30 likes )
inhaler1 @username you take the best pics of them please please go on tour with them!!
(liked by elijahhewson,bobbyskeetz, ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_)
inhaler2 will ONE of you close the deal , for the sake of your fans !!
joshjenkinson_ @elijahhewson for the fans....
inhalerfan3 so unserious you forget they just played SLANE
harrystyles, anthonypham and lloydddddddddddddddd followed you!
yourusername
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yourusername photos of THE harry styles that I took... me cause I met harry styles over the weekend
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ryanmcmahon_15 your supposed to be our photographer
bobbyskeetz welcome home cheater
elijahhewson is one lead singer not enough for you ??
yourusername .....
yourusername you start dancing like that THEN we'll talk
elijahhewson 💔💔
lloyddddddddddddddddd coming for my job but the pics are so good ill let it slide
yourusername yeah im obsessed with you and your employer please hire me <33
yourusername i can boot scoot like a pro
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elijahhewson
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elijahhewson was a good weekend I'd say
yourusername wow yes well done that caption reaffirmed how cool you are !!
yourusername YOU JUST PLAYED SLANE YOU CAN BE HYPED
evehewson such a loser
joshjenkinson_ did you do it for the fans ??
ryanmcmahon_15 👀👀
bobbyskeetz 👀👀
yourusername he did it for the fans FINALLY
inhalerfanupdates
inhalerfanupdates photos of eli and @ yourusername have been leaked over the last few days .... are we still saying they're just friends?
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inhaler1 if I didnt think they were in love before I sure do now
inhaler2 literal evidence of my parents in love <33
inhalerfan3 for real I feel so passionately about these strangers
yourusername
liked by evehewson and others
yourusername slow down more like .. go down/ soft sound/ midnight/ car lights ....
my idiot (lovable) friends are now my employers cause im joining them on tour in europe ahhh, a professional photographer some may say
bobbyskeetz war is fucking over we got ya
ryanmcmahon_15 about time!! gonna be lethal
lewevans ohh yeah cannot wait to see you in action!
(liked by elijahhewson,bobbyskeetz, ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_)
yourusername too kind <33
yourusername posted on their story:
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authors note: ahhh part 2 which will probs flop, shes a long one! hope y'all enjoyed, please please enlighten me on your thoughts <33
#inhaler band#elijah hewson imagine#inhaler dublin#elijah hewson fanfic#elijah hewson x reader#elijah hewson#fake instagram#fake insta post
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Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader
summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago
word count: 3.5k
warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really
author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.
It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.
But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.
None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.
For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.
Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.
“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”
You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.
“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.
“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”
Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.
You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.
Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases
“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”
You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”
“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.
You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.
At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.
Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.
You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.
It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.
Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.
You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.
The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.
Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.
That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.
You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.
20:21
Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.
Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.
“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.
“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”
Oh.
“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”
Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.
“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?
“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.
“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”
There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.
“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”
“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”
He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.
“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”
“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.
You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.
“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”
You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.
You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.
Okay, here goes nothing.
“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”
Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.
“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”
“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”
You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”
The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.
You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.
In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.
You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.
With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.
And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.
You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.
“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.
“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”
“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”
You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.
“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.
“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”
She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.
“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”
“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”
The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.
“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.
You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.
“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”
“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”
“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”
The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.
“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.
Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.
You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.
“It’s a long story.”
note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx
taglist: (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!) @tractorbeamofwoe @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @vanmccannsfridge
#robert keating#robert keating imagine#robert keating oneshot#robert keating x reader#robert keating x reader imagine#robert keating x reader oneshot#inhaler#inhaler imagine#bobby skeetz#charlotte writes
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Dublin In Ecstasy
Summary: Y/N and her friend finally go on their long-awaited trip to Dublin. While in the local pub, she catches the attention of bassist Robert Keating.
Robert Keating x Reader
Word Count: 6.2 K
Content warning: NSFW!! Other than that, there should be none :)
masterlist
Today was that day that you had been looking forward to for many months. You and your best friend, Clara, had been planning a trip to Dublin as a graduation present for yourselves. The two of you graduated from NYU in May, and spent most of your years at school working various jobs in order to afford the trip. You spent months planning and doing research. Ultimately, the two of you decided to visit during New Years to experience wintertime in this new country.
The two of you shared an apartment in the Lower East Side that was pretty decently sized for the budget of two fresh college graduates. JFK was bound to be a shitshow around this time of year, so the two of you packed your things and were on your way to the airport in hopes of beating some of the chaos.
“I can’t believe this day is finally here,” Clara says as you guys begin walking out of your apartments with your luggage.
“I know. I really never thought this was gonna happen, I’m so excited,” You reply.
The two of you make it onto the street and hail a taxi to take you to the airport. The ride was about half an hour, which wasn’t too bad. The two of you checked your luggage, went through security and made your way to your terminal with around two hours left until you could board your flight.
After what felt like years of waiting, it was finally time to board the plane. You both quickly made your way to your seats.
“This all feels so real now,” You say to Clara as you two are getting settled into your seats.
“I know. I just hope this flight goes quickly.”
“I think it will. We waited years for this trip so this is gonna be a piece of cake.”
The flight attendants do their pre-flight spiel and you guys prepare for takeoff. Flights make you slightly nervous, so you’re happy that Clara is right next to you to calm your nerves. Before you know it, the plane begins to take off and you can see the city growing smaller and smaller in the night as the plane rises. Dinner is served and, of course, it’s bad. But the flight is long, so you eat some just so you have something in your stomach.
After dinner, the lights dim and you decide it’s best to get some sleep. You put on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a movie that you’ve seen thousands of times before, so you don’t mind falling asleep during it. You put on your eye mask and attempt to get some sleep.
You wake up and change the movie a few times throughout the night but finally, it’s morning and there’s about one hour till you land at Dublin Airport. The crew hands out breakfast, but you’re so nervous you can barely eat more than a crumb.
The plane finally lands and you and Clara can’t contain your smiles anymore.
“Holy shit we fucking made it,” she says to you as you begin to exit the plane.
“This is so surreal,” you say as the two of you stop and take a minute to take it all in as you wait for your bags. Finally, you spot your matching pink suitcases - courtesy of your parents as a graduation gift - and make way towards the taxis to take you to your hotel.
Because the two of you planned this so far in advance, you got a great deal on a two bedroom air bnb with a kitchen right in the Temple Bar area in the South bank of Central Dublin. When the two of you walk into the apartment, your jaws actually drop.
“Holy shit this is even better than the pictures,” Clara says as she drops the keys and her bags on the kitchen table.
“This is crazy. And to think this is cheaper than so many of the hotels here. We got so lucky.”
“I think I’m gonna shower quickly, then do you wanna grab lunch?”
“Yeah, I’ll shower too. I’m starving since I didn’t eat breakfast on the plane.”
Clara hops in the shower and that leaves you to explore the apartment further. You each get your own bedroom and you’ll share the bathroom in the hallway. Clara has already claimed the blue bedroom. It has a queen sized bed and guitars hung up on the wall as decor. You make your way to your room, which is painted green and has a bass hung up on the wall, also fit with a queen sized bed. In the living room, there's a small piano and all throughout the apartment there are pictures of famous European musicians. As a music lover, you appreciate these cute details.
Clara finishes her shower and you hop in. The hot water feels nice against your cool skin. It feels much colder here than back home. You make your shower quick, not wanting to waste what little time you have in Ireland. It was currently the 29th and you two planned to stay until January 5th, hoping that gave you enough time to explore what you could of Ireland.
You put on brown jeans, your favorite green sweater, white Adidas sambas, and your winter coat and quickly do your makeup before the two of you leave the apartment.
“I saw this place around the corner from here that looked cute, we should check that out for lunch,” you say to Clara while locking up the apartment.
“That sounds great, I’m starving.”
The small little cafe on the street corner offers a perfect introduction to Irish culture. The table near the window allows the both of you to people watch and absorb the Dublin fashion. You order a “Traditional Irish Breakfast,” which is made up of sausages, black and white pudding, bacon, eggs, and grilled tomatoes, while Clara got a “Dublin Coddle,” which was a dish with sausages, bacon, and potatoes cooked in a broth. You ate the majority of your meal, but weren’t a fan of the pudding. The two of you left and made your way down the street to visit all the shops down the road.
The first shop you went into was an adorable bookstore. It was small, but cozy, and you felt welcome there by the shop owner.
“What brings you ladies in today?” the short old lady asks you two.
“Oh, just looking. It’s our first day here so we’re walking around to get an idea of the area,” Clara says to her.
“Oh, that’s lovely! You two will have so much fun here, Dublin is a great city.”
“Yeah, we love it so far! Do you have any recommendations on what we should do?”
“Oh, The Temple Bar is a classic. It’s big amongst music lovers and young kids, so you’ll have a blast there. They’re doing some shows these next few nights and a huge party on New Years. If you have nothing planned, I’d recommend spending your New Years there.”
“That sounds awesome, thank you so much! It was so nice meeting you.”
The two of you mutter a final thank you and make your way out of the bookstore.
As you pass The Temple Bar, Clara asks, “What do you think of going here for dinner tonight to see what all the hype is about.”
“Yeah, that sounds great. It looked so cute when we walked by it before. I’m not too sure about New Years, though. If it’s as crazy as she says it is, I don’t even know if we’d get in.”
“Yeah, that’s true. We definitely need to go at some point though.”
Even though it’s just a few hours past noon, it looks as lively as ever. The outside is decorated with Christmas lights that are sure to be beautiful at nighttime. You two make note of the bar and continue on with the shops on the street. You go into candle shops, record stores, guitar shops, and even shoe stores to pass time. You make small talk with all the owners, who love to hear about your journey; The Irish were so nice.
It’s around four o’clock when you two finish your shopping. You bought a shot glass, a journal, and a few magnets for your family. You made a point to buy a new shot glass in every new city you visit and even though your collection is growing slightly out of hand, it continues to grow regardless. Clara got a few magnets and a shirt.
“I’m lowkey tired as hell. How about we go to the bar tomorrow night instead?”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m sure it’ll be just as fun. We could cook dinner in the apartment tonight, I saw a grocery store a few blocks up from the place,” you reply.
The two of you make it to the grocery store and stock up on some food for the next week or so. For tonight, you two would make some pasta with garlic bread. You also grabbed some cereal, milk, eggs, bread, and cookies for the rest of the trip.
By 8 o’clock you two are finished with dinner and getting ready for bed. You get snug under your covers and set your alarm for the next morning.
—
You wake up around 9 and get ready for the day. Your routine is simple, so it doesn’t take you too long to get ready. Your everyday makeup takes you around 10 minutes to do and you quickly pick out an outfit: your black Converse, blue jeans, your favorite crewneck, which was of your favorite band, The Strokes, and your jacket on top. The two of you are out the door by 10:30 and head to another restaurant for brunch.
The two of you opted to share your meals today. You got a coffee while Clara got a tea, and you shared a cheese platter and some Irish soda bread french toast. After brunch, you two explored the area some more. You did some touristy things to kill time before you went to the bar. You visited local churches, bridges that went over the river that flows through Dublin, and some museums and art galleries in the Temple Bar area.
Around 5 o’clock, you guys got dinner at a nearby restaurant before going to Temple Bar for after dinner drinks. The line is long, but eventually you make it inside. The temperature difference was crazy compared to the outside due to how many people were inside. You hear a band playing some song that you don’t recognize and you begin making your way through the bar to find a place to sit. Luckily, you guys snag a pretty big booth and have a great view of the stage where the band is playing. Clara leaves quickly to grab you guys a drink.
You look at the four guys on the stage and are immediately infatuated by the bassist. His beauty is stunning. He has curly brown hair that is beginning to grow into a mullet, with crystal blue eyes, and oh is he tall. His bass was hung extremely low leaving you wondering how that can even be comfortable. He has black jeans on with Dr. Martens and a black button up shirt that looked like it had mermaids on it. The shirt is kind of ugly, but somehow, he makes it work.
“Earth to y/n,” Clara snapped in your face.
“What was that for?”
“I only called your name about five times already, I’ve been back with the drinks for a minute. You’re drooling over that guy, I can tell. He’s cute, but I like the singer. He kinda looks like Bono.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me, yeah. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she laughs as she gives you a shoulder nudge. She sits across from you and the two of you take some pictures for your instagram because duh, when in Dublin, and begin drinking your Guinness.
“This actually tastes like shit,” you say as you wipe your mouth on a napkin.
“Yeah this is disgusting, I should’ve stuck with vodka.”
“Oh hey, it looks like they’re starting another song.”
The singer steps up to the mic and begins speaking. “Hey everyone, once again we’re Inhaler. I’m Eli, this is Ryan on the drums, Josh on Guitar, and Bobby on the bass. Thanks for coming out tonight. This last song is one of our own songs. It’s called It Won’t Always Be Like This. It’s not out right now, but keep an eye out this upcoming year. Hope you enjoy.”
The lights dim slightly and Ryan and Bobby start the song, followed shortly by Josh on guitar and then Eli comes in and starts singing. There’s a surprising amount of people singing along in the crowd, so you assume they must be popular here in Ireland.
“He has a pretty good voice,” you say.
“Yeah, they actually don’t seem half bad.”
You look them up on instagram to see that they have less than 40k followers. Josh and Eli are both private, and Ryan and Bobby each have less than 10k.
“Clara, check this out. They’re actually attainable.”
“Oh shit they’re pretty small. You’re right, maybe we actually do have a chance. Wow, we really are delusional.”
You chuckle then sigh, put away your phone, and continue listening to them play, not taking your eyes off Bobby. You catch him looking at you and you swear that he gives a slight smile before looking back at his bass.
“Y/N did Bobby just smile at you?” Clara says with a look of pure shock on her face.
“Okay so I wasn’t just imagining that. That actually happened?”
“I mean it’s hard to tell but I looked like this. Fuck, are our delusions finally coming true?”
“Oh, man. I hope so.”
The band finishes off strong and they get a large round of applause as they walk off the small stage. You can see the band putting away their instruments and they begin making their way over to the bar, scarily close to where you guys are sitting.
“Y/N I think they’re staring at us.”
You try to look at them without drawing their attention, but you fail and you make eye contact with three of the four members. All of the sudden, the band makes their way towards you and before you know it, the four of them are standing right in front of you.
“Hey, I’m Eli. Haven’t seen you guys ‘round here before,” the singer says to the two of you without breaking eye contact with your friend.
“Hi, I’m Clara and this is Y/N-”
“Ooo, you two are American,” Eli says before Clara can even finish her sentence.
“Yup. We’re here visiting for a week or so. Just got here yesterday.”
“What do you guys think of Dublin so far?” The drummer interjects.
“It’s great. The people are all so nice. Not a fan of Guinness, though,” Clara says and is immediately faced with a look from the boys.
“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Eli says, “It’s big here but not many foreigners like it, especially the girls. Can I buy you guys a drink?”
Internally, you’re trying not to freak out. You can’t believe your luck.
Clara speaks for you, “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll have a vodka cranberry and she’ll have a rum and coke.”
“Coming right up,” he responds as he walks away towards the bar.
“Can we have a seat?” The drummer asks, but not really asking because they all sat down anyways, not that you would have said no. To your luck Bobby sat next to you, with Josh on his other side, and Ryan across the booth next to your friend with an open spot for Eli.
“So, what’d you think of the show?” Bobby asks, mainly to you, “I didn’t get your name, by the way.”
“I’m Y/N,” you say shyly. Normally, you were more outgoing. But in a situation like this, you felt yourself reverting to your younger self and couldn’t help but become introverted. “It was really good. We only popped in for the last song, but I liked it. The bass line was killer.”
“Awesome. Glad you liked it,” he said with a smile that left butterflies in your stomach.
Eli finally came back with your drinks, along with a round of Guinness for the boys. You make quick eye contact with your friend, noting that Eli chose to sit next to her instead of Ryan.
You’re secretly grateful Eli saved you from the conversation. Bobby made you nervous, and you needed some more alcohol in you in order to continue this conversation. You two thanked Eli for the drinks, and you anxiously began sipping it.
“Woah, eager there are we,” Bobby teased you as you each started drinking your drinks.
You blush in response, and hope that he can’t see the rose tint on your cheeks in the bar lighting.
“So what brings you guys to Dublin?” Josh chimes in.
“Oh, this was Y/N’s idea. We’ve been planning it for years. We graduated college in May and this was our Christmas/graduation gift to ourselves.”
“Congratulations, this is an awesome way to celebrate,” Josh replies, “What else is on your itinerary??”
“Honestly, not much. We’re here till the 5th so we definitely have plenty of time to explore. This little lady in a bookshop told us to come here and said we should come for the New Years party tomorrow but I can’t imagine how hard it would be to get in considering how long it took us to get in tonight.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem at all. We’re playing again tomorrow. We can get you two on the guest list, we’d love to see you again,” Eli says with a smile and a wink.
“Really? That’d be great! Maybe you guys could show us around too,” Clara replies without missing a beat.
“Sounds like a plan,” Eli says smoothly.
“How about another round?” Bobby offered and you all nod your heads yes, “Y/N, come with me to bring them over?”
“Yeah, sure,” you reply back. The two of you get up to the bar and Bobby orders drinks for everyone. You can slowly feel the alcohol hitting you and are becoming more confident as the minutes go by.
“I saw you smirk at me onstage,” You blurt out without thinking.
“I love The Strokes,” Bobby says back to you.
“You smirked at me because you like The Strokes?”
“The Strokes, among other things,” he says with a smile, moving slightly closer to you. “You caught my eye in the crowd. I can tell your friend caught Eli’s,” he says with a chuckle that makes you turn around to see Eli practically all over her. You turn your attention back to Bobby; You didn’t realize how blue his eyes are. Any confidence you just gained went out the window after making eye contact with the boy again. By the grace of God, the drinks are ready and it’s time to go back to the table.
The two of you settle back into your seats and join in the conversation, which turns out to be a heated argument between Ryan and Clara about which band was better, The Beatles or Queen.
The night goes on, more rounds are bought, and you all grow more tipsy. You can feel Bobby’s gaze on you throughout the night. At one point, he even rests his hand on your thigh. You’re all deep in conversation that you don’t even notice the music ending and the workers who are beginning to clean up the bar.
“Sorry, lads,” the bartender says to your table, “Closing up for the night. Be sure to come back tomorrow for an even bigger celebration.”
Eli and Clara are preoccupied with each other and they get up from the table first. Next is Josh and Ryan. Finally, you get up from the table with a slight stumble and are steadied by Bobby’s hand on your back.
“Easy there,” he says with a chuckle, “Here, hold onto my arm.” You give him a little smile and mutter a “thanks” and the six of you begin to walk out of the bar.
“Where’re you guys staying?” Ryan asks.
“An apartment a few blocks down,” you reply while slurring your words. You didn’t remember getting this drunk, and you’re glad that you have Bobby to hold onto.
“We’ll walk you back. Think you can guide us there?” Bobby says.
“Uhhhh, I think it’s this way,” you point in one direction, while your friend is pointing in the opposite.
“Do you have the address saved?”
“Yeah, here,” you reply as you hand Bobby your phone.
“You were right, it’s that way. C’mon, let’s get you two home.”
The six of you walk back in the quiet of the night. Eli and Clara are giggling to themselves in the back. Ryan and Josh are in the front leading the way. Bobby’s next to you, still letting you hold onto him to steady yourself. ‘
“How was your first night at an Irish pub?”
“Fun,” you say looking up at him, “your lips are really pink,” you mutter to him, which causes him to chuckle.
“You’re funny,” he says to you.
“Thanks.”
“Looks like we’re here,” you hear Josh say from in front of you. You look up and realize you are, in fact, in front of the apartment. The walk was quicker than you thought. Your friend grabs the keys and Eli opens the door for the two of you. The two of them mutter a goodbye as he gives her a kiss on the cheek. Ryan and Josh say their goodbyes, and that just leaves you and Bobby.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night, right?” he starts off.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say with a smile.
“Good. I’ll keep an eye out for you in the crowd. Goodnight,” he says with a wink. And with that the four boys are on their way home, which leaves you and Clara alone at last.
“What the fuck just happened Y/N?” Clara practically yells at you.
“I have no idea,” you yell back at her.
“Oh I knew our delusions would pay off one day. Rockstar girlfriend here we come.”
“Fuck, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
The two of you crash down onto the couch to chat some more about the night. All the things Eli said to her and Bobby said to you.
“You know how I said Eli looks like Bono? Turns out that’s his dad!” Clara shouts at you while laughing and staring at the ceiling.
“What?! No way! Oh my god are you sure we’re not dreaming.”
Eventually, sleepiness comes over the two of you and you retire to your bedrooms. You manage to get into your pajamas and get yourself ready for bed and fall asleep almost instantly.
—
You wake up to the sun shining through your curtains and groan at the brightness. Surprisingly, you don’t feel too hungover, just hungry. The first thing you do is check your phone, and you are met with a text from an unknown number.
You open it and it reads, Hey, last night was fun. Excited to see you again x.
Your jaw practically hits the floor when you read it. You realize Bobby must’ve gotten your number from when you gave him the directions last night, but it still feels crazy to you. This stuff only happens in the movies.
“Oh my god, Clara. Check this out,” you say as you run into her room. She reads it with hungover eyes but as she processes what it is, she wakes up and yells in excitement.
“Oh my god, tonight is gonna be the best night of our lives,” she screams so loud she probably woke the neighbors. You send him a quick reply and get ready for the afternoon.
You eat a late lunch at a local restaurant and then walk around the area for a little bit to get some fresh air. After, you two go back to the apartment to start getting ready for the night ahead of you. You decided to make some more pasta for dinner to save some money. After dinner, it was time to start picking your outfits. Since it was new years, the two of you wanted to dress nicer than you had the previous days. Clara decided on a slinky silver dress that ended on her mid-thigh with black boots and a black jean jacket. You decide on a black velvet spaghetti strap dress that has lace around the bra line and bottom and is tight in just the right places, your Dr. Martens, and a black leather jacket. The two of you did your hair and makeup, and began pre-gaming. The two of you decided this night was gonna be crazy, and you wanted to be a little tipsy when you got in there.
After a few drinks, you guys decided it was time to walk over to the pub. You get to the pub and see a long line, but then you remember that the boys got you on a guest list. Clara leads the way and walks the two of you up to the bouncer at the front of the line.
“Hello, we’re on the list. Clara and Y/N,” she says confidently as the bouncer scans the list. He gets to your names, crosses them off, and lifts the rope to let the two of you in. You’re faced with stares and angry faces, but the two of you don’t have a care in the world. Everything is going your way. You say a quick thank you and walk into the pub.
Although it’s still a couple hours till midnight, it’s already packed to the brim. You squeeze through the crowd and order two vodka cranberries at the bar to keep you guys at the pleasant level of tipsy you were at while you waited till the boys were done performing. There were no seats left, so you pushed through to the front of the crowd to get a good view of their performance. You try to look for the boys, but don’t see them anywhere. After about 15 minutes, the music stops and the boys make their way onstage as the crowd erupts in applause. The two of you start cheering for them as well, drawing their attention. Eli gives you a smile and then sees Clara, looking her up and down before giving her a wink and then turning to the crowd. As Eli’s introducing the band and their first song, Bobby’s staring you down with a serious face. He adjusts his bass to be positioned lower on his body, which you can only hope that it means your outfit is doing what you intended it to do.
“Oh, they just totally checked us out,” Clara says to you, without breaking eye contact with Eli, “I’m so excited for tonight.”
The boys play numerous songs and you and Clara are dancing together and with other people in the crowd while they play. They play some of their own songs, as well as some covers. The covers were a hit and the entire crowd was singing along. Throughout their entire set, you could feel Bobby’s eyes on you. He’s wearing black jeans, Dr. Martens, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Eli introduced their last song, and it felt like it was just Bobby and you in the room with the way that you two were staring at each other. After what felt like forever, they were finally finished with their set, and there was about an hour till midnight.
The boys head offstage to put away their instruments, and you and Clara rush over to them. It’s almost like they can feel you approaching. Before you can even speak and make your presence known, Bobby turns around to you.
“Hi,” you say shyly.
“Hi. You look fantastic tonight,” he says while looking you up and down again once more while smirking, making you blush.
“Shall we get our first round?” Eli shouts over the music that replaced Inhaler’s absence. Eli and Clara make their way to the bar while the rest of you find a spot in the corner to claim.
“What’d you think of the set?” Bobby asks you.
“Even better than last night’s.”
“Glad you liked it. I was a little distracted on stage though,” he says cheekily.
“Oh, were you? I didn’t notice,” you say with a smile.
“Mhm. That dress looks really good on you.”
“Thanks, I thought so too.”
Eli and Clara come back with the drinks and the group forms a new conversation. Thanks to your and Clara’s pregame, you’re at a great level of drunkenness for tonight. By now, there’s 15 minutes until midnight. You feel Bobby sticking closer to you as the night goes on. Everytime he laughs, he looks at you. His arm is glued around your shoulder.
“Five minutes until midnight! Let's get out there!” She shouts while dragging Eli into the crowd.
“You heard her, let’s go,” you say to Bobby as you drag him there as well. You lost Clara and Eli, along with Josh and Ryan. But it was okay since you had Bobby there and that was really all you needed.
The closer it got to midnight, the crazier the energy got in the pub. At about a minute to midnight, the energy was through the roof as you all waited to start counting. There was a big clock counting down the seconds, so you were sure not to miss the clock striking midnight. You were pressed tight against Bobby’s chest, only now realizing how tall he was.
Twenty seconds to midnight. Everyone started yelling, including you and Bobby. Even though the two of you were already squeezed against each other, you somehow were able to move closer together.
Ten Seconds. Time seemed to slow down and it felt like an eternity till midnight.
Five. You look Bobby in the eyes, down to his lips, and then his eyes again.
Four. He grabs your dress by your wait and pulls you even closer.
Three. You put your arms around his neck.
Two. He moves one hand up to grab your chin and point your head up to him.
One. The crowd is full of cheers, but it feels like the two of you are the only people in the room. The clock finally hits midnight and Bobby pulls your lips to his. The kiss was slow at first. He pulls away for a second before going back in with more force. He moans into your mouth which causes you to giggle against his lips. He pulls away and you see pure lust in his eyes. You stand on your toes so that you’re able to whisper in his ear.
“Let’s get out of here,” you say while moving your lips down his, leaving a few kisses before leaving a playful bite. He moans, grabs your arm, and drags you out of the pub while you gladly follow.
“Your place is closer than mine, could we go there?” Bobby says, already leading you in that direction.
“Yeah, let me just send Clara a text.”
You check your phone to see Clara has already sent you one.
Went back to Eli’s place. Have fun with Bobby ;)
“Already taken care of,” you say to Bobby while chuckling.
While the air was cold, Bobby’s hand was warm inside yours. At one point he pulls you to the side and presses you against an alley wall, kissing you on the lips. He kisses your neck and his breath is warm against your cold skin. He runs his hands up and down your body and you can feel yourself craving his touch.
After what feels like an eternity, you make it back to the apartment. You grab your key from your purse and unlock the door. As soon as you shut the door behind you, Bobby has you pressed up against it. You gasp, but are quickly shushed as you’re met with Bobby’s lips on yours. His hands are roaming up and down your body and you can feel yourself needing more. You palm his dick through his jeans, which earns a groan from him. You start walking forward, pushing Bobby to walk back towards your bedroom.
He opens the door to your room and you push him back until he lands on the edge of the bed and you’re able to straddle his lap. You take off his jacket while he helps you take off yours. You continue kissing his soft lips and eventually make your way back to his neck, kissing a sweet spot by his jaw causing him to let out a moan. You can feel his cock growing in his pants, so you start grinding your hips against his as you begin removing his shirt. His lips start to travel to your neck and your hands are in his curly hair.
You hop off of his lap, get down on your knees in front of him, and start unbuckling his belt. You get his belt off and he bucks up his hips to help you take down his jeans and his boxers. You slowly trail kisses up from his base to his tip.
“Quit teasing,” he says to you as he begins to gather your hair into one hand and uses the other to guide your head from behind.
You slide your tongue to his tip and slowly run a circle around with your tongue before slipping him into your mouth, earning a groan from him.
“Mhm, that’s a good girl,” he says encouragingly to you. You bring your hands into your work, which only excites Bobby more.
You can tell Bobby is close due to the speedy nature of his breathing.
“Come up here, I don’t want to finish just yet. Though you do a damn good job.” He asserts while letting go of your hair and pulling you up to his face again. “Let’s take this off, yeah?” he whispers in your ear.
He helps you take off your dress to reveal your black lace bra and matching panties. Your lips crash against each other again as he pulls you on top of him onto the bed. You climb off of him, allowing him to take the more dominant position above you. He starts kissing your chest, and your hands are moving up and down his toned arms. He unhooks your bra and when he takes it off, he looks like a kid in a candy store. He looks up at you and you give him a little nod of encouragement. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, and the other nipple is squeezed between two of his fingers.
After a few minutes of this, he starts continuing down your body. He makes his way down to your panties and his breath against your skin causes you to shiver. He pulls them down your legs slowly, teasing you.
“You’re so wet,” he teases, “all for me?” and without a warning, he dives his mouth into your vagina which causes you to gasp in surprise and pleasure. You grab onto his hair to encourage him to keep doing what he’s doing.
“Mmm, you like that?” he says while stopping for a second to look at you.
“Fuck, yes, don’t stop.”
He continues working on your clit and he eventually introduces his fingers. One finger causes you to gasp, two makes you cry out his name, and three is close to sending you overboard. Just as you’re about to reach your climax, Bobby pulls away. You look down at him confused, but you’re met with the sight of him pulling out a condom.
“You alright with this?” he asks as he slips on the condom.
“Please, wanna feel you inside me,” you reply.
He meets your lips again one more time before sliding himself inside you.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” you say.
“Love, I’m not even all the way in yet,” he chuckles while you gasp. “Jesus, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”
With every thrust he puts more and more of himself inside you. The initial pain is quickly taken over by pleasure. You’re grabbing onto his biceps and are slowly coming undone. Tears are brimming in your eyes from the immense pleasure; Bobby wipes them away with his thumb and gives you kisses of encouragement. His chain is dangling over his face, swinging back and forth with each thrust.
“Harder, I’m so close,” you say as you feel your climax approaching.
“Mmm, me too,” he grunts.
He begins playing with your clit, which brings you to your breaking point.
“Oh, I’m gonna cum,” you say.
“Oh fuck yes, cum with me baby.”
His thrusts become sloppy as the two of you reach your climaxes together. He falls down on top of you as you both are catching your breath.
“Fuck. That was amazing. You’re amazing,” he says while giving a kiss to your forehead.
“Mhm, you’re not too bad yourself,” you reply.
Bobby helps you into his t-shirt and you get up to use the bathroom. You come back to Bobby in his boxers underneath the covers with them drawn enough for you to get in next to him. You hop into the bed and he pulls you close, giving you a kiss on the cheek before the two of you fall asleep.
You wake up in the morning just where you left off the night before: in Bobby’s arms. The sun is shining through the window hitting Bobby’s face beautifully. You can’t help but stare at how peaceful he looks while sleeping. Last night was the start of something exciting, and you can’t wait to see where this takes you.
#inhaler#inhalerdublin#inhaler dublin#inhaler x reader#inhaler band#robert keating#bobby skeetz x reader#bobby skeetz#robert keating x reader#bobbyskeetz#robert keating fluff#bobby skeetz imagine
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HYUNJIN on instagram: ah changbin hyung dont make me laugh
#hyunjin#skz#insta#changbin#YES CHANGBIN MAKE HIM LAUGH MOREEEEEE THANK U FOR YOUR SERVICE#can u do me a lil twirl pretty pleaseew#this apron skirt is toooooo gooooood now don’t be cowards give him a full skirt#inhaling my vape nervously imagining it’s him getting into my system
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thinking of...catching dabi being soft. you climb into bed with him and hes so eepy and he just- wraps his arms around you and pulls you too him and cuddles up so nicely and just keeps you there.
Awwwh I’m feeling very soft tonight so I might just-
You snuggle in his warm chest, as he kisses your forehead, crushing you against is body. His bittersweet scent is intoxicating, and comforts you in the best way possible so you can fall asleep with ease. His soft heartbeats and breathing fill your ears, as you decide to kiss his chest softly and nuzzle your head against it, appreciating your man as usual. “Can’t get enough of me? D’awwh c’mere~” he cups your face with both of his hands, pulling you from his chest as his marred lips find yours, giving you a slow deep kiss. But it’s him who can’t get enough of you too, even more than you might think. “My good girl, my sweet pretty girl..” he whispers between each kiss, his hands not letting you get away from him that easy. Your heart is fluttering in your chest, and so is his. “Aren’t you the cutest thing ever, hm?” .
Cuddles and soft appreciation hours with someone like Dabi are way too often <3
#B.writes#love is in the airrrrrrr#*inhales*#smells like Dabi#dabi#touya todoroki#mha dabi#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#dabi x you#dabi x reader#dabi x y/n#dabi imagines
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wanna ride her pretty face and feel her nose nudge against my clit as she licks up all my juices ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
#i just know she gives the best head#messy and sloppy too#god and i bet she loves how much you love her nose#slurping at your pussy as she inhales you sweet musky scent#RAHHHHHHH#I am totally normal.#abby anderson#abby anderson rec#abby tlou#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson imagine#the last of us 2#abby anderson smut#abby the last of us#tlou2#abby anderson x you#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x y/n#lesbian
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could you maybe do a fic (don’t worry if you can’t 🫶🏼) with eli or bobby maybe enemies to lovers and the person is the band’s photographer or is on keys 🤍🤍
𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞
hii ofc, i wasnt sure if u wanted a smau or written soo i sort of did both since the reader is their photographer, hope u like it!! this is my first tumblr fic so im still getting used to how to work the app lollll, sorry if u don't like it but pls give me ur thoughts so i can learn to improve JAJA
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴
𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺'𝘴 #1 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴
𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
yourusername
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yourusername dropping these flicks in honor of my fav boys (and bobby ig) letting me join them on tour to take cute pics of them 🙇♀️🙇♀️
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joshjenkinson_ WOOO after months of begging
yourusername a little begging doesnt hurt when i have to spend months with devils spawn
joshjenkinson_ bobby loves u dw
bobbyskeetz why do you automatically think shes talking about me
bobbyskeetz and i do not
bobbyskeetz so thrilled to have you.
inhalerfan1 wtf why is she always hating on bobby he does nothing wrong to her!!! how about you leave and like never speak to him again.🙄🙄
inhalerfan2 saying this doesnt make bobby want u any more!
bobbyskeetz how about you leave her alone?
ryanmcmahon_15 aw look at u protecting her
elijahhewson the crowd erupts in cheers
yourusername by crowd u mean u, josh, and ryan LMAFO
elijahhewson and bobby he just wont admit it
inhalerfan300 something abt the boys getting their pics taken by a sexy woman makes them even sexier tbh
liked by elijahhewson, ryanmcmahon_15 and 30 others
inhalerfan11 fuc the guys I WANT U
▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁
"say, cheese!"
your lens shuttering was heard throughout the tour bus, trying to take candid, but not candid at the same time, pictures of the boys. tour was great, amazing even. you felt at peace when taking pictures of the band in their natural element. whether it be on stage, at a pub, or even just at time when it was just one on one hangouts. except, for bobby
bobby skeetz, you didn't know what you had done to make the boy dislike you from the moment he laid eyes on you. maybe it was your personality, the possibility to get on with everyone around you, happiness radiating off of you. or perhaps it was one night stand you had with him 4 years ago. but you chose to pick the former as the reason.
it didn't matter what you tried, his anger, regret, or whatever he felt never seemed to ease.
despite telling them to smile, bobby still had a grim look on his face, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but in front of you. rolling your eyes, you lowered your camera, dismissing the guys from the lens.
as the boys one by one retreated to their own areas, bobby stuck sitting in front of you as you placed your equipment away. you could feel his eyes watching you as you worked, and you found he often did this. though you could never force yourself to look back up at him, knowing his eyes would probably be full of dislike.
"is there something you need robert," you asked him, getting closer and closer to being fed up with his acts.
"no, just thinking."
"of?"
"why we would need another photographer when we already had lewis."
rolling you eyes, why do i even bother, thinking to yourself.
hiding behind a door was josh, ryan, and eli, silently watching the two of you interact. "i bet you they get together by the end of the tour," ryan spoke.
"oh you are so on McMahhon."
"dunno, maybe you should ask your mates. you didn't seem to complain too much when they asked me, repeatedly," you argued.
there was a thick tension in the air, these petty fights between the two of you were normal at this point, and despite your attempts to be professional, his pettiness was starting to get to you.
in reality, you didn't mind bobby at all, in fact, you felt a pull towards him. but ever since that mistake, that for some reason he can't seem to forget, he has made his presence unbareable.
"why must you make everything so difficult," you sighed, frustration evident in your tone as you continued to pack away your equipment.
"i'm not the one making things difficult, thats your speciality, isn't it," he snapped back. there was a mix of annoyance and indifference in his expression as he starred at you. "or maybe its the fact that you love to pretend nothing happened."
"what the hell are you talking about," you spoke, your patience so close to breaking.
bobby scoffed, "oh please, you know exactly what i'm talking about. four years ago when you left me!"
there was a heavy silence between the two of you, could he seriously be holding onto the past for that long? was this really the reason why he hated you so much? you can admit, you have your regrets on the way those things played out, but what were you supposed to do? act like sleeping with him didn't hurt you in ways you didn't even know you could hurt? the way he easily uttered those words to you, this doesn't mean anything, does it? it pained you, so really, what were you supposed to do?
but you were never really good with your emotions, so frustration bubbled inside you, "fine, you want to hold onto the past? go ahead, keating. but don't act like i'm the only one at fault here."
your heated exchange echoed throughout the bus, leaving an uncomfortable silence. but meanwhile, the other three boys exchanged knowing looks.
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yourusername
liked by elijahhewson and others
yourusername tours almost ova so heres some flicks to prepare u for the drought
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elijahhewson pay up ryan
ryanmcmahon_15 ITS NOT OVER YET SHUT UP
yourusername meaning??
elijahhewson NOTHING
ryanmcmahon_15 NOTHING
inhalerfan11 NOOOO
inhalerfan23 god i have seen what u have done for others
trumanblack come take some flicks for us?
elijahhewson no
joshjenkinson_ no
bobbyskeetz shes all yours mate
ryanmcmahon_15 rob shut up before i leak some information that i find very important.
bobbyskeetz YOU WOULD NEVER
joshjenkinson_15 TRY US
bobbyskeetz JOSH NOT YOU TOO
yourusername OIII all of u. out my comment section
inhalerdublin twas an honor having u with us, and for the rest of the tours!🤗🤗
inhalerdublin whos us?
yourusername robert get out
inhalerfan100 why do i get the gut sense that her and bobby do not like each other?
inhaler203 i dont think so, i was at their last shows and he complete heart eyes for her
liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_
inhaler203 RYAN JOSH WHAT DO U KNOW
inhaler100 their my enemies to lovers trope
oliviarodrigo im going on tour soon babes if u need a job😉😉
yourusername omg.
inhaler45 im living for this comment section
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throughout the remaining of the tour, there was an uncomfortable tension between you and bobby, and with the last dates coming up, you weren't sure if you wanted to come back.
but then again, you were confused.
after your last blow with the bassist, there was a peace between the two of you, if thats what you could even call it. he no longer took every opportunity to be petty, in fact, you hadn't spoken a word to the man since.
but you saw the tweets, the comments, and even noticed the other three members of the band acting funny when the two of you were in close proximity. the possible thought that bobby felt anything to you besides utter dislike, felt impossible.
the group of you were lounging around before the boys had to go onstage, and you could still feel bobby's eyes piercing at you from behind. despite the other's chatter, there was still an underlying discomfort from the two of you. his gaze lingered on you, and looking back towards him, you noticed there was a mixture of frustration and something else.
attempting to break the silence, you sighed in defeat, "what's wrong with you now, rob?"
there was a moment of hesitation on his part, jaw clenching, "it's nothing," he muttered, but his tone said otherwise.
"doesn't seem like it," you countered. you were tired of fighting with him, you just wanted peace for the remainder of the tour. "look, tour is almost over and can we at least try to-"
but he interrupted you before you could even finish, "try to what? pretend like everything is okay," his voice laced with bitterness, "like nothing happened?"
you sighed in defeat, feeling an oncoming argument brewing, "you cannot keep dwelling on the past rob," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady, "what happened was a mistake, for you," you emphasized, "and for me."
"a mistake," he scoffed, "you're acting like it meant nothing, like i meant nothing."
there was a clear tone of hurt and resentment in his voice, his words cutting deeper than you could've imagined, "that is not fair rob," you whispered, looking away from his eyes. trying to avoid his gaze, you noticed the room had cleared, the three boys' chatter no longer being background noise to your conversation.
those little shits.
bobby noticed your avoidance, "you just left, without a word," he continued, his voice filled with an ache that mirrored your own. "do you have any idea how much that hurt?"
the weight of his accusations hung heavily in the air, did he really have no idea of how much he hurt you too? how much you look back to that night and wish things were normal between the two of you.
"it wasn't easy for me either," you confessed, voice barley audible. "but what did you expect me to do? especially after what you said."
the atmosphere became thick with emotion, your unsaid words confusing him.
"what are you going on about?"
"really? 'this doesn't mean anything'," you scoffed, your hidden emotions rising to the surface, "do you know how heartbreaking those four words were? god, do you know how many nights i spent thinking about that. then here you come accusing me of being at fault."
his eyes softened at your confession, "i didn't know. you never said."
"i thought you knew," you cut him off, "i shouldn't have to tell you how harmful your words were."
"i didn't know," he spoke softly, getting up and standing in front of you, looking down at you into your eyes, "you could've told me. i would have been there for you.
"and what would have you done? hm?" you quipped as you looked away, anger and ache still inside your tone.
he softly grabbed your chin for you to look back up at him, "i would've told you how stupid i was, how scared. you have no idea how afraid i was of it ruining everything, and look at us now, look at what it's done to us. look at what my stupidity has done to us. i would've been there for you, through everything because i love you."
your breath hitched, utter surprise written all over your face, a small smile beginning to spread across your face, "i love you, and you aren't stupid. its just your pettiness," you spoke, trying to make the conversation lighter.
"oi, you're one to talk woman," he laughed, cupping your cheek to pull you into a kiss.
and as if it was right out of a corny soap opera, you heard a cheery whistle from the side of you. turning you were met with those three little shits with grins on their faces, well except eli, who looked completely defeated.
"as much as i am happy for the two of you coming to your senses," ryan began, turning to eli, "pay up, hewson."
eli groaned in frustration, pulling out cash from his pocket and placing it onto the ryan and josh's outstretched palms.
"you shits placed a bet on us?" bobby questioned.
"was an easy bet, after you drunkenly confessed your love to me a few nights before tour," josh explained to you two.
bobby's cheeks heated up, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "is that what your silly comments on my posts meant?" you asked the trio.
"uh, look at the time! c'mon keating, time to perform!"
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yourusername
liked by bobbyskeetz and others
yourusername that one AM lyric about looks of love or smth
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inhalerfan43 OHMYGODAD
inhalerfan111 THE HARDLAUNCH IM DYIGNAKE
bobbyskeetz this damaging my rep woman
yourusername k
bobbyskeetz haha i was just kidding
bobbyskeetz i love you
elijahhewson robert keating has emotions??
inhalerfan23 ive lost the love of my life to a guy who plays bass...
yourusername he's dorky ways and sassiness has captivated me
bobbyskeetz HEY
ryanmcmahon_15 WAR IS OVERRRR
inhalerfan2 hes one of us fr
yourusername dont think i've forgotten abt ur little bet dipshit
ryanmcmahon_15 uh....
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bobbyskeetz my woman
yourusername ur so babygirl i love u
bobbyskeetz THE LOOK OF LOVE THE RUSH OF BLOOD, THE SHES WITH MES
joshjenkinson_ this was so worth him talking my ear off about u
bobbyskeetz OI
inhalerfan432 HIS LOVE STARE IN THE LAST PIC IM SOBBING
inhalerfan00 im soooo normal abt them ahhahahahahahah
inhalerfan12 shes one of us fr
yourusername oh fs
inhalerfan12 HI MOTHER
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THE END
omg sooo lmk if u guys enjoyed this? pls i haven't written in so long so sorry it took be a bit to release this
also if theres any error in the format or anything i apologize cause im still getting used to writing on tumblr
lots of loveeeee <333
#robert keating x reader#bobby skeetz#bobby skeetz x reader#bobby skeetz imagine#inhaler#inhaler fic#inhaler imagine#enemies to lovers#fanfic#sunshine x grumpy#x reader
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hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )
bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.
she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.
basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333
If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.
Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?
I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.
Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!
I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.
He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.
I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.
Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.
Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.
So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.
This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.
"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.
"Leave it on. I just need a moment."
He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.
Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"
"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."
He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."
Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.
Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"
"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."
"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."
I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.
He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.
More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.
"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.
I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.
Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.
"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.
"Just college. You know. It's killing me."
He shakes his head. "You're so smart."
"Says you."
He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."
I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.
"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"
Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?
Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.
"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.
"What is it?"
"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."
"Give me a week."
"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.
"Where did you learn all this?"
"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.
I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."
"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."
"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."
"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."
"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.
"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."
"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.
He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—
He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.
"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.
"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.
He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.
#robert keating fanfiction#bobby skeetz fanfiction#bobby skeetz#inhaler band#inhaler imagines#inhaler oneshots#robert keating#fanfiction#inhaler dublin#inhaler fanfiction#josh jenkinson#elijah hewson#trinity college#inhalerimagines#inhaler oneshot#inhaler x reader#inhaler fanfic#inhaler imagine#bobbyskeetz#bobby skeetz x reader#inhaler#fanfics#ryan mcmahon
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sunshine baby [1]
robert keating x reader (she/her)
faceclaim: gracie abrams (ofc hahah)
authors note: hello hello! this is a really random one, I am a broken record but I am self projecting in these hence why the reader is always home friends with the boys. also theres so many time skips lol
I really home you enjoy, would really appreciate any feedback or comments yee might have <33
2020
yourusername
liked by bobbyskeetz and others
yourusername 2 months into lockdown we are playing, we are hot girl walking and most importantly we are hot girl drinking 💅
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bobbyskeetz thanks for choosing the most flattering photos luv x
yourusername any time baby any time :))
yourbestfriend i miss you and your impromptu sing songs <3
yourusername no I miss you so much !! boys are really smelly sometimes 😀
yourbestfriend thats what you get for dating bobby SKEETZ
bobbyskeetz heyy
yourusername I know right??
bobbyskeetz HEYYYY
elijahhewson there is very little going on behind those eyes
yourusername the bulmers was very warm... and we just lost a zoom quiz
joshjenkinson_ keep our boy sane !
yourusername and whos gonna keep me sane?? whos gonna keep me alive?
ryanmcmahon_15 did you put yourself on the line?
yourusername
liked by yourbestfriend and others
yourusername as y'all know I dabble with playing some piano andddd my very cool, talented boyfriend and his friends asked me to play on a few tunes for their DEBUT ALBUM. thank you for briefly employing me :))
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joshjenkinson_ no thank YOU
ryanmcmahon_15 we owe you forever, this is so exciting !
bobbyskeetz as your boss can you make me a cuppa?
yourusername and your legs stopped working when?? also you're closer to the kitchen than I am rn!
bobbyskeetz they just cant take the weight of being such a musical success 😔
friend1 @bobbyskeetz how does she put up with you?
bobbyskeetz shh dont make her reflect on her decisions
yourmam so proud of you chicken!!
yourbestfriend and the start of your music career is when?
yourusername oh hush you heheh
elijahhewson she asks the important questions
yourusername why be a musician when you can be a broke college student right 😀
yourusername posted to their story!
if the boys have zero fans, i am dead.
bobbyskeetz so extreme but I love you <3
bobbyskeetz
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bobbyskeetz EVEN BIGGER NEWS !!! Our greatest hits debut album is coming out on July 16th for all you beautiful people to hear. We poured our hearts and souls into this and can’t wait for you to listen . Couldn’t have done it without @theantski @thedrewmanshow @johncatlin @andrea.cozzaglio and all the other talented people who helped get this record finished.
IT WONT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS !
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bobbyskeetz ALSO @yourusername for the pretty piano playing
yourusername hushhh rn CONGRATS ON THE SUPERB album
inhalerfan1 i'm seriously so proud of you guys 💙
inhalerfan2 finallyyyy
yourmam well done boys!! huge achievement
bobbyskeetz thank you :))
yourusername
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yourusername it is very cool and a lil strange seeing my fella on posters while im on my daily hot girl walk....
it always be wont this like is out today woooo!
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elijahhewson I dont remember that photo being taken 😑
yourusername you just release your debut album you gotta celebrate!
yourfriend shes just too nice, you were locked.
yourmam lovely photo, why are yee outdoors though? 😂
bobbyskeetz sure we're following covid restrictions! you're looking at four v responsible boys!!
yourmam hmmm I don't know about that one now!
yourbestfriend no cause robert and sir hewson would wanna stop looking into my soul..
elijahhewson 😐😐
bobbyskeetz 😐😐
bobbyskeetz what about josh huh he's also throwin some looks
yourbestfriend josh can do whatever he wants 🫶🏼
(liked by joshjenkson_ and yourusername)
yourusername oh also everyone compliment ryan on his GORGEOUS hair
yourbestfriend such a power move I adore x
yourfriend ryan how does it feel being coolest member of dublin's coolest band??
joshjenkson_ so fit, is he single...?
bobbyskeetz not sure if you got the album name exactly right there..
yourusername huh I dont see anything wrong 🤔
2021
yourusername
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yourusername the trio is back and just in time to see the boys killing it at fairview park 🔥
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yourbestfriend forget about them WE are killing it
yourfriend mmhmm we slay 😤
yourbestfriend posted to their story!
when the base player with a staring problem is away, the girlies can steal his girlfriend 🤘🏼
bobbyskeetz oi oi get your feet of my dining table 😤
bobbyskeetz
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bobbyskeetz happy birthday beautiful.
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inhaler1 this is my thirteenth reason 💔
yourusername miss you rockstar!
inhaler1 miss girl who are you? and can you please accept my follow request
inhaler2 nooooooo you're taken ?!?
ryanmcmahon_15 hundreds of girls heartsbroken with the softest of soft launches haha
lewevans the spooky powers of mr skeetz
yourbestfriend FINALLY you're letting him show you off
yourusername haha this is too much please stop 🥺 🥰
inhalerfanupdates
liked by inhalerfan1 and others
inhalerfanupdates I hope its real cause I need a gun after seeing bobbys soft launch
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inhalerfan1 im so sad I cant
inhalerfan2 im afraid to ask but how long do you think they've been together
inhalerfan3 i 😭 cant 😭😭 think 😭😭😭 about 😭😭😭😭 it
part 2
#bobby skeetz#robert keating#robert keating x reader#robert keating imagine#inhaler dublin#inhaler band#inhaler fanfic#inhaler imagine#smau
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I like categorizing/differentiating things and figurative language so let’s goooo,
How the fire ghouls present:
Alpha: Billowing smoke and soot that reddens the sky and emboldens the sun.
Ifrit: Crackling, lit embers that spark above a flame, then flutter down as ash.
Dewdrop: Dense, humid steam that can drown on dry land, and burns like alcohol.
#yap yap yap#ghost#ghost band#nameless ghoul#fire ghoul#alpha ghoul#ifrit ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#is this? anything?#making dew a hybrid ghoul instead of the Strict Transition yk#he sweaty n damp#i can only describe what I imagine them to be as if you were to inhale them??#alpha: smoke / ifrit: oven heat / dew: sauna heat#idk lmk if you want more#there’s a ton of water ghouls to get through
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the thought of Gortash using a disguise spell is sending me. It makes 100% sense for him to use one, high-profile as he is, to get around but can you imagine that man just suddenly popping up next to you? you're walking around the lower city and BAM! Gortash jumpscare, as he dispels the disguise of a fucking halfling.
#you try telling the patrons of elfsong this story of how you met the archduke and they accuse you of having inhaled timmask spores#durgetash#enver gortash#bg3#my tav would be infinitely more spooked than my durge though for sure - 'is nowhere safe?'#it has comedy potential#no wait.....can you imagine being so used to seeing gortash's self-portraits everywhere that when the REAL one shows up#you thought it was just another still image?
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GRAHH BLUE EXORCIST ON MY MIND ALL DAY ALL NIGHT
#i just want new season now#and new chapter#and game#and nendroids#and everything#i wanna inhale this series#i cant live like this#imagine.. sittin.. to watch whole 20min of first episode... whole 20 min of animated aoex content..... omg.... *explodes*
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Inhaler holiday show with Eli Hewson
Summary: your boyfriend’s band performs their final show of the year
Word Count: 420
12 days of fics
masterlist
“Good luck tonight,” you say, kissing your boyfriend on the cheek.
“Thanks, love. I’ll see you after the show.” He gives you one final hug and walks onto the stage with the rest of his band to perform their final show of the year. After many long months of touring, following them for some and being apart for some more, you were excited for them to have a little break. For themselves, but also to be able to spend some much needed time with your boyfriend.
They play a few songs before Eli finally introduces the band to the crowd.
“How are we all feeling tonight?” he shouts at the crowd and is met by cheers in response.
“Thanks for coming out so close to Christmas, you all look great tonight. Let’s keep this party going.”
The band starts playing their next song and the crowd starts singing along. Everyone in the audience is dressed for the occasion. Everyones dressed in reds and greens and golds, and Santa hats fill the crowd. At one point, Santa hats are thrown up onstage and Eli and his bandmates put them on, earning a roar from the crowd.
The band plays their final song before the encore and they come offstage for a few minutes. Eli looks gorgeous in his jeans and white tank top, you can’t believe how lucky you are to be his girlfriend.
“You’re great out there,” you say to Eli, “Go on, finish the show.”
He pulls you in for a deep kiss and goes back on stage to play the final two songs.
“We’re gonna play a few more for you. Thanks for coming out tonight and giving us a great year. We’re gonna take some time off, but we’ll see you all very soon.”
The crowd is the loudest you’ve ever heard it. Finally, the boys finish the show and Eli comes off stage and wraps you in his arms. You can feel the adrenaline radiating off him, knowing this is exactly where he belongs.
“I’ll never get tired of watching you perform. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, baby. This break is gonna be so nice, I’ve missed being with you.”
“Missed you too,” you say into his chest, “you deserve some rest, this years been crazy.”
“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s go home.”
The two of you exit the venue and start making your way to your shared home. This year has been amazing, but you can’t wait to see what your future with Eli holds.
#inhalerdublin#inhaler#inhaler dublin#inhaler x reader#inhalerband#inhaler band#eli hewson x reader#eli hewson#eli hewson imagine#elijah hewson x reader#elijah hewson#elijah hewson imagine#elijah hewson oneshot#eli hewson oneshot#eli hewson one shot#elijah hewson one shot#eli hewson fluff#elijah hewson fluff#inhaler fluff#inhaler fanfic#eli hewson fanfic#elijah hewson fanfic#12 days of fics
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Jinshi always having his favourite things taken away is such a fucked up memory actually can we talk about it more please???
#the apothecary diaries#imagine being a 5 y.o something and you not allowed to be obsessed or take a liking to a single TOY#like that would fuck me up so bad#i once saw a dog training video (?) idk its been a long time ive forgotten it#and basically after theyre taken from the hound. you gotta train them to be patient with their food and stuff#i.e making them wait a certain time before eating#they've gotten so used to inhaling their food quickly because there's this fear of their food being taken away by other dogs#AND I KNOW THIS CANT BE COMPARED#but like#i think about it sometimes#and it hurts :(#all his impatience regarding maomao. is that not the same as the dogs not wanting their food be taken away? :(#i think my periods coming up this is making me emotional way more than it had any right to
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