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mauvefayette6 · 8 months

Note

Hi! I looooove your writing!!!! If it’s no problem, could you right about the boys (specifically Meeks, but I saw that you write for all of them too, so whichever you prefer doing) having a huge crush on keating’s daughter and maybe asking her out?

Mr Keating’s Daughter | [Steven Meeks/fem!Reader]

"I don't know why you read that, you aren't going to follow it anyways," you muttered. You saw a smile rise as he put the book down.

"It keeps me occupied before classes start," he winked and you rolled your eyes. "Shouldn't you be heading over to your school?"

You scoffed, "Why can't I just go here? It would be so much easier for the both of us," you complained. He only shook his head.

"For you to be surrounded by cute boys to distract you? Now, hurry along or you'll be late for your classes."

You groaned before getting off and heading out. You began walking, you looked around the school and admired the building. The walls adorned by ancient photographs of past alumni. You smiled at all of it.

"Hello?" You heard a boys voice say, it snapped you from your fantasy world.

"Hello?" You said back staring in front of you.

"Do you go here?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I'm a teachers daughter. Just heading to school..." You said approaching him. You noticed him and really took in his features.

Curly ginger hair, brown eyes, and big glasses that took up most of his face. You saw his cheeks turn a rose shade of pink and you smiled.

"Sorry, you must not get a lot of girls around here," you smiled and extended your hand for him to shake.

"No, not really..." He mumbled shaking your hand.

"Well, I really should get going. Another tardy and it's a detention for me," you winked before walking away. He watched as you walked away, still in a trance he didn't notice Mr. Keating behind him.

[POV switch]

"I like you very much Mr. Meeks," he said startling him. "Keep your hands away from my daughter, okay?"

Meeks turned around and nodded nervously. Mr Keating walked away as he stood there frozen. No way that beautiful girl is Mr. Keating’s daughter. He shook the feeling away and continued his walk back to his dorm.

He had forgotten his tie, which wasn’t the first time he did that. He walked it, grabbed it, and walked back to the dinning room. The fuzzy feeling resurfaced, the thought of the girl came back.

He sat by his friends still awestruck.

“Meeks?!” Charlie shouted finally throwing a paper ball at him.

“What?” Meeks said startled, he looked at Charlie who had a smirk.

“Who are you thinking about?” Charlie asked mocking Meeks’ lovestruck look.

“None of your business,” he mumbled moving his food from one side to the other.

“It is so my business,” Charlie scoffed offendedly, “If there’s a girl I have to know!”

“Just leave him alone, he must really like this girl if he is keeping it from us,” Neil defended. The bell rang, saving Meeks from Charlie’s interrogation.

Meeks and Pitts walked besides each other.

“You have to tell me who this girl is,” Pitts said looking at Meeks who was much shorter then him.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Meeks mumbled.

“At least tell me if she’s pretty!” Pitts begged.

“She is very pretty,” Meeks blushed.

“You have go introduce me to her! It’s not everyday that we see girls!” Pitts pleaded.

“Obviously not. Besides she doesn’t go here…” Meeks sighed devastated. Pitts and him entered the classroom, they sat at the back of the classroom. Todd and Neil were in the same class but sat in the front, and Charlie and Cameron were by the windows.

Meeks had trouble concentrating in his classes, the girl was still on his mind.

English rolled around and they all walked together to Mr. Keating’s classroom.

“Good evening gentlemen,” Mr. Keating said smiling at the boys entering. “Good evening Mr. Meeks.”

“Good evening Mr. Keating,” they smiled walking to their assigned seats.

Class went on as usual, until the girl from before interrupted the classroom.

“(Y/n)?” Mr. Keating said as she waved to him.

“Last class was canceled so I decided to come… early.” She whispered walking to him.

“That’s okay, go on to the back and do some homework,” Mr. Keating smiled and patted her shoulder.

“(Y/n),” Meeks whispered.

“Sorry gentlemen, that was my daughter,” Mr. Keating announced. He resumed class without another mention of her.

Class was over as everyone packed up for their final class of the day. It was a short Study Hall class. Yet no one was talking about school or homework or how hard the Latin test was. The only thing people were talking about how beautiful Mr. Keating’s daughter was.

“I so call dibs on her!” Charlie announced.

“You can’t dibs a girl, Charlie!” Neil scolded.

“I so can and I so did,” Charlie smirked. Meeks rolled his eyes at Charlie.

They entered the classroom and split into a group of three. Cameron, Meeks, Pitts and Charlie, Neil, Todd.

“That must be your mystery girl,” Pitts whispered to Meeks who blushed.

“Can you two stop talking about girls? It’s Mr. Keating’s daughter have some respect!” Cameron scolded.

Pitts rolled his eyes at him and continued to talk about her with Meeks.

“Cameron is right, that’s Keating’s daughter. We should be respectful and not talk about her like she’s an object.” Meeks whispered to Pitts.

“Tell that to Charlie, he is going around announcing that she’s going to be his girlfriend.” Pitts whispered back.

“Charlie is starting to piss me off,” Meeks whispered.

Class ended and everyone walked to their assigned dorms. Meeks decided to make a detour to the restroom. Deep down he was hoping to bump into her.

He sighed as he climbed up the stairs with no sign of the young girl.

“Meeks?” He heard a feminine voice say from behind him. He quickly turned around to see her at the end of the stairs.

“Yes?” He responded.

She climbed up the steps and smiled at him, “I was starting to feel like you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding? Why would I ever do that?” He laughed nervously.

“Doesn’t matter, want to walk with me? I forgot something at school and really should get it,” she smiled and Meeks nodded.

[POV Switch]

You walked besides the nervous boy and began telling him about your day.

“Janine is such a bitch,” you told him. “She’s cheer captain and is so taking my spotlight. I voted for Amelia to be captain but everyone always picks the cheerful two faced girl to be cheer captain.” You laughed.

An awkward silence began. You enjoyed the leaves crunching on the floor.

“So… tell me about your friends, how is Welton like?” You smiled and he shrugged.

“Not as interesting as your school. Being in a school full of boys is kind of lame. We take everything seriously and really aren’t allowed to enjoy ourselves.” Meeks complained.

“I bet, for the tuition your parents pay I would think the staff would be awfully strict. Where I go no one takes anything seriously.” You smiled.

“Must be nice,” Meeks smiled.

You shook your head, “In all honesty… I don’t think I’m being used to my full potential. I take advanced classes yet those feel so unchallenging. I’ve been begging my dad to enroll me at Welton or at the very least Henley Hall! I mean I think I could really use the challenge!” You laughed and he laughed with you.

You entered the school with Meeks following behind. You opened up your locker and took out your math and science textbooks.

The walk back was more quiet then the walk there. You could feel your heart beating quickly as your face reddened.

“So, call me crazy but I really like you,” you smiled at him.

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“Yeah! Although you aren’t very talkative I don’t mind! I can talk for the both of us,” you laughed. “I know my dad probably told you to back off, but I would really like to go out. There’s this really cool library cafe combo Downtown if you’re free on Saturday.”

“I’m very free on Saturday,” Meeks smiled.

“Cool. I’ll see you then,” you smiled at him.

You parted ways from Meeks to go to your dad’s classroom.

[POV Switch]

Meeks walked to his dorm his face red like a tomato. His heart was racing and it felt like he could collapse from a heart attack at any point. He entered his dorm and with a giddy expression.

“What happened? You were gone for like hours,” Pitts asked.

“Well, let’s just say I have a date on Saturday,” he smiled.

“Seriously?! With who? Keating’s daughter?!” Pitts exclaimed and Meeks nodded happily. “That’s amazing! Charlie is going to be so angry!” Pitts laughed.

“To hell with Charlie! I have a date with the prettiest girl ever!” Meeks smiled and flopped on his bed.

#dps #dead poets society #dead poets society scenarios #neil perry #charlie dalton #todd and neil #stephen meeks #before midnight #nuwanda #mr keating #steven meeks x readers #steven meeks one shots #steven meeks x reader #steven meeks x fem!reader

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iloveneilperry · 2 years

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I want my first date to be we climb on top of the roof of our school with our illegally made radio and dance around listening to it.

Is this to much to ask for

#dead poet society #dead poets fanfic #neil perry #todd anderson #steven meeks #dead poets edit #neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #meeks x pitts #mr keating #carpe diem #seize the day

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ash5monster01 · 1 year

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Only Thing Left to Live For

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: grief, loss, mentions of suicide, comfort

Summary: Charlie Dalton never came home for the Holidays, you’re friendship stuck strictly to summer time, but when he comes home in the Winter you’re ecstatic until you find out exactly why he’s home so soon and you’re the only thing left to comfort him during his time of grief.

word count: 2964

Masterlist

You were camped out by your bedroom window, eyes staring at the house across from yours. You held a book in your hands but you had yet to open it, you were afraid that if you took your eyes away for one moment you’d miss evidence that what you had seen earlier was real. Three people had exited the Dalton’s vehicle and you knew the color of the champagne brown hair anywhere. But he never came home for Holidays and if he did it was much to early for school to already be out. So was he only a figment of your imagination, your dreams messing with your reality?

You weren’t sure how long you were sat by your window when the front door of the house finally opened. And there he was, bundled up in a hat and scarf, shovel in his hand, and 100% not a figment if your imagination. You leapt forward, as if getting closer to the window would make it easier to see him. You had never seen him in the Winter months, his skin was a shade paler, and the hat on his head much different from the messy uncombed look he kept in the summer. Seeing him in the snow for the first time was almost romantic as small snow flakes fell down and he moved to start shoveling the driveway. You waited a few moments to see how he moved, and enjoy the idea of him in the snowy months which up until now was only something you could imagine and had never seen.

Yet the longer he was there the more convinced you were he was real and quickly you bundled up to go and see him, your excitement overflowing. The scrape of his shovel on the ground was too loud for him to hear you approach. As you got closer your heart rate sped up at the thought of seeing him much sooner than you had anticipated.

“Charlie?” the boy looked up, brown eyes meeting your own, the shovel stopping almost instantly, and creating a silence that surrounded you both.

“Y/N, hey” his eyes were different. They weren’t full of mischief like they usually were and instead they were a cold shell of grief, so much hurt behind them. The thought scared you a little.

“Hi, I thought I saw you come home earlier. I just wanted to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me” you told him and he forced a smile but that was not the Charlie you knew. The one you knew would have a flirtatious comment matched with a smirk but instead the boy across from you seemed lost in a way.

“Yeah, it’s me” his sentence was short, and you started to feel uncomfortable that you had been holding the conversation when that was usually his job.

“I didn’t think Welton let out for the Holidays this early” it didn’t go unnoticed the flinch as you spoke this sentence.

“Yeah, we had a few last minute changes” his voice was cold, his mind obviously distant even though he stood right across from you. And it didn’t go unnoticed that he had yet to smile and Charlie always greeted you with a smile.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home. I would love to catch up. My parents are going to be out for the evening, I could make us some dinner?” you offered and Charlie looked at you, really stared as if he couldn’t decide eating with you would be a good idea.

“Sure, just let me know a time” he finally decided and you started to feel nervous around him and not the usual good nervous you did.

“Seven, I’ll see you then” you grinned, and he nodded, no other emotion on his face, before focusing back on the shovel, and filling the air with its scrapes. Confused he didn’t bid you goodbye you made your way back across the street and into your home.

Now knowing you had a guest for dinner, and that it was Charlie 6 months sooner than you had expected him, you started to panic. Suddenly the house wasn’t clean enough, all your dresses were too last season, and any meal you made wouldn’t be good enough. But at some point you ran out of things to clean, you settled on your navy blue dress with white pearls, and the only ingredients you had in the house meant dinner was beef stroganoff and nothing else. But as the meal was finishing up cooking, and the dining table was set for two, you became embarrassed of what Charlie might think. Yet you didn’t have much time to stress since a knock sounded at the door. Whipping your apron off you rushed over to let him inside from the bitter cold.

“Hi” you grinned at him, admiring the snowflakes that sat on his lashes. He walked in slowly as he removed his scarf and you shut the door behind him.

“It smells great” he spoke, all of his personality still missing.

“You’re just in time, I just finished cooking” you told him as you led him to the kitchen. He took a seat as you grabbed the food to set some servings on your plates. His eyes noticed the half drank wine glass on the counter.

“I didn’t know you drank?” you looked to where his eyes were and became embarrassed all over again.

“Rarely, only to soothe my nerves” you spoke as you went to put the glass and bottle away.

“No, bring it over here. We can drink together” stopping in your tracks you grabbed a fresh glass and brought it to the table. Setting the clean one in front of him you gave him a good pour before refilling your own.

“I hope you like beef stroganoff, I didn’t have ingredients for anything else” you said as you looked at the simple meal you had placed in front of him.

“You were nervous?” Charlie ignored your comment about the dinner, focusing on your excuse for the wine. This comment from him was normal, the only thing missing was the suggestive tone he would use to say it, so instead the sentence felt way to empty for it to make your heart beat.

“Well yeah, I don’t have many guests for dinner and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself” you spoke, not letting on that he made you nervous in general.

“The stroganoff is perfect, better than any prep school food” he finally said and you smiled as he quickly took a bite.

“How was this past semester, Nolan still strict?” you found yourself asking because you always did when he came home from school. But again the boys body went rigid and he chewing stopped.

“It was like it always was” Charlie struggled with the words, obviously unclear of what to say.

“Well that can’t be true, your Mom told me you took quite a liking towards english, and your grades were better than they had ever been” for the first time since approaching him this morning the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“We had a new english teacher. Different than any teacher I ever had, I actually looked forward to going to his class” you took noticed of the word had but chose to ignore it considering the tiniest glimpse of the Charlie you knew was sitting there right in the corner of his lips.

“I love english, it’s nice to see you found a passion for it also” you told him, realizing Charlie had changed a lot in the past few months you hadn’t seen him.

“Yeah, I used to think all those poems you liked were silly but now I enjoy them. I actually write some of my own” your eyebrows rose, shock flowing through your body. Charlie willingly writing poems, now this couldn’t be true.

“You write poems? I don’t know if I believe it” you started to shake your head and suddenly he laughed. It was short and quick but it warmed your heart and the cold shell of the Charlie across from you actually had real emotions for a moment.

“It’s true, I even joined a secret club dedicated to reading poems” Charlie hadn’t felt anything since he left school. It’s as if Neil dying killed any passion he had left at all. But here, talking to you, he felt something. Something small but enough to remind him there was still some good in the world even though it felt as if it was all gone.

“Now that sounds like fun, can I join or is it for Welton members only?” you asked, a bit excited at the thought Charlie found something to be this into.

“No it’s for anyone. We call ourselves the Dead Poets Society, we’re real romantics” Charlie rose his eyebrows suggestively and you laughed but felt your heart swell because there he was. This was your Charlie, the one you knew.

“I would love to attend a meeting of this Dead Poets Society” but then his eyes stopped shining, the smile fell from his face, and he shrunk back down in his chair. “Is everything okay Charlie? You don’t seem like yourself”

“That’s because I’m not” you noticed the water well up in his eyes and suddenly clear as day you realized this Charlie that came home was broken.

“Charlie, it’s me. You can tell me anything” but you weren’t sure that was true anymore. He rarely wrote you this semester and he always wrote you. Maybe this Charlie had been around for a while.

“My life is a mess Y/N. I’ve lost so much, I’m not sure what to even live for anymore” your stomach twisted at his words. The Charlie you knew lived for adventure, trouble, romance, and experience. Now the one in front of you didn’t see anything good in the world anymore.

“Charlie, what’s going on? What happened?” you reached across the table for him, taking his hand into your own, your heart breaking at the sight of him so lost.

“Neil died Y/N” you gasped as you tightened your grip on his hand. You had met Neil the small handful of times he was actually allowed to visit in the summer. Never enough to get to know him but you did know he was Charlie’s best friend. The one person he relied on when he went back to school. “He killed himself and the school is blaming it on our English teacher, they wanted me to sign a paper saying it was true but I couldn’t because it isn’t true. They kicked me out and now I’ll never see any of my friends again”

“Oh my God” tears fell down the boys cheeks as he finally admitted all of this out loud. He didn’t get to say goodbye, he didn’t get a chance to tell Keating how much he did for him, and he had been alone with his parents who had been so disappointed in him that he bottled everything he was feeling up until he could’t feel anymore.

“I don’t understand how for the very first time in my life I felt like I was actually living it ended like this” you quickly stood and rushed over to his side of the table. Falling to your knees beside him you began to rub his back because this Charlie had every right to feel the way he did. He lost a friend, and in the wake of all of that he ended up losing everything else.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened” you wanted to cry for him as he turned into your embrace, crying into your shoulder. You were the first person to comfort him since everything had happened. Since the moment he got the call about Neil he had to comfort everyone else and when his parents got there, they were too mad at him for getting expelled to comfort him over the loss of his friend.

“He was so young Y/N. You should’ve seen his smile the last night I saw him. He had so much to live for” he gripped onto you tightly as you continued to rub his back. You had never seen him break down like this before.

“Charlie, it’s okay. I’m here and everything is gonna turn out okay” you told him as he continued to hold you in his embrace. At least he still had you. Through it all at least he could always rely on you and now he just had to pray his parents wouldn’t send him somewhere far away because right now the only thing he could handle would be staying with you.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner” he muttered into your neck and you shook your head, pulling back to look him in his eyes.

“You didn’t ruin it. I missed you and even though you got expelled I’m ecstatic to have you here” you told him with a soft smile and he chuckled as he wiped his tears away. “I should’ve poured you a bigger glass though”

“Finally being able to talk about it is comfort enough” he told you and you returned to your spot at the table. He instantly missed the feeling of you in his arms and made note to stay as close to you tonight as possible.

“The wine will still help” you offered as you picked up your glass. He picked up his own and looked at you with a curious expression. “To Neil, who was so full of life that not even life could fulfill him. And to you Charlie for being strong despite all the trauma the past few months have brought your way. Life will go on and you’ll feel guilty but soon, one day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt as much anymore. Then when you feel guilty for that you’ll have to remember that Neil would be proud that you tried to live your life as best as you could despite it all”

“Cheers” Charlie’s lips quivered as he spoke but he clicked his glass with your own and took a sip as he fought off the tears. He cried every night since Neil passed and he was so sick of crying.

“To you Y/N, for always knowing the right thing to say and being the first person to comfort me since I lost my best friend. And for being the one good thing about being back home. Then hopefully you’ll finally let me kiss you tonight” you both laughed as he did his own toast and clinked your glasses again.

“You’ve had the opportunity to kiss me since we were fifteen Charlie, I was never stopping you” you told him and just like that, slight mischief appeared behind his eyes as he smirked beck at you.

“Yeah, I stopped myself because it would hurt that much worse leaving you 9 months out of the year” he told you and you tilted your head as you furrowed your eyebrows together.

“And how well did that work out for you?” you asked and he chuckled, feeling much lighter since everything was off his chest now and he could feel normal being himself around you.

“Well I still missed you like crazy so apparently not that great, the only good thing about this semester was having the Dead poets to distract me from how much I wanted to see you” you both had never been this honest with each other but as of right now you had your entire future laying ahead of you and maybe for the first time you both actually had the choice to have each other in it.

“Well I missed you like crazy too, it feels like a fever dream having you here with me” you told him, finishing off your glass of wine.

“Well get used to it, because I’m sticking around” he told you and you shared a smile before you both finished your meal together. But sadly your parents would be home soon, and you could only spend so much time holding out a meal to stay together. So soon enough you had to walk him to the door.

“I’m glad you came” you said as you helped him into his jacket. He turned and smiled at you as he pulled his hat on his head and you smoothed out the front of his coat.

“Me too, I needed this” he said and you smiled as you looked up into his brown eyes that actually held a little more life in them than they did when he first got here.

“Let’s hangout tomorrow after school, we can go see a movie or something” he smiled and nodded as he started towards the door.

“Oh wait, I forgot something” he said as he turned back around and you gave him a confused look but before you knew it his lips were on your own. You gasped slightly as he tilted you back and kissed you hard. He kissed you like his whole life depended on it, and you could feel every thank you and how much he had wanted to do this behind it. Your body felt like jello and you didn’t think you had ever been kissed like that. Quickly he pulled you back upright and broke his mouth from your own, breathing heavily as he looked at you.

“Goodnight Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow” he whispered and you nodded, unable to speak as he walked back to the door and slipped outside. You stood there, still shocked he had actually kissed you, and you were sure if you moved you were bound to fall.

And holy shit Charlie Dalton kissed you.

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masivechaos · 2 years

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gerard pitts x fem! reader

prompt: squishing the other's cheek (from this prompt list @creativepromptfills)

warnings: none pure fluff!

word count: 0.3k

margot's daily blurb masterlist! / masterlist / navigation

You yelped as flour fell on your arm “Pittsie!!” you looked up at his tall frame with wide eyes and mouth open in shock “You are so dead!” you dived your fingers into the flour bag before throwing the contents of your hand on him.

Baking with your boyfriend was a good idea at first. He always made amazing cinnamon rolls you could have a bellyache by dint of eating too much, so the thought of cooking some with him as a date seemed obvious.

But saw how it started as a battle of food, you weren’t going to bake much.

When Gerard was taking a handful of flour, you decided to grab the cinnamon “That’s not equal sweetheart” he warned, not wanting to be covered in the brown powder.

“Well you’ll smell nice” you said as you feint to attack him. But now that your little joke was over you weren’t paying attention anymore and Pitts took advantage of it. He spread out his arm, his covered-in-flour hand grabbed your face, his fingers squeezing your cheeks.

You tried to escape from his grip but couldn’t, so you extended your own arm to squish his cheeks back, tinting them with the cinnamon powder.

Gerard let out a choked laugh “You look silly like that” he said, squeezing your cheeks harder. “So do you” you retorted, fingers digging further into his skin. After a minute, you both broke into laughter and released the other’s cheeks.

You rubbed your now sore face with a light giggle and Gerard did the same. When he saw the small print of his fingers on your skin his eyes widened “Oh, sorry” he said before leaning forward, kissing your cheek tenderly. When he pulled away he pecked your lips before dropping a kiss on your other cheek.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tippy toes “I need one more and you’re forgiven” Gerard let out a laugh before bringing his lips to yours, but he didn’t stop at one peck.

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spncvr · 2 months

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waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses.

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her.

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it, “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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would you ever write a curious gaze type of concept ? especially for young dad!h like maybe he’s seen with one of his babies and the fan is observing him from afar

Curious Gazes

Three separate instances where the Styles family is seen out in the wild.

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

The School Teacher

“Thank you so much for meeting with me today, Ms. Y/l/n. Will your husband be joining us today?” Mrs. Keating said.

“No, sorry, he's away for work.”

Y/n smiled at the middle-aged woman as she sat in the seat across from Mrs. Keating's desk. She was Simone’s kindergarten teacher. She hadn’t spoken to Y/n too much outside of the initial parent’s meeting at the beginning of the school year, and she didn't participate much in the school's extracurricular activities, and she often pulled Simone from school. But Simone was excelling doing well and on top of all her schoolwork, so Mrs. Keating didn't see any red flags. Y/n was young, very young, that much was clear, but she tried not to hold it against the girl.

However, Mrs. Keating eventually had to call Y/n in for a meeting after a couple recurring incidences the last few days. It was nothing major, but Mrs. Keating thought it would be wise to get ahead of it before the situation had the potential to escalate.

“That’s okay, dear. We can go ahead and get started.” Simone's mother motioned for Mrs. Keating to continue as she folded one leg over the other in her seat. The teacher eyed Y/n's sneakers curiously before saying, "It has come to my attention that Simone has been going around telling students that her father is a famous musician."

Mrs. Keating had overheard Simone telling her fellow students that her dad was Harry Styles, someone Mrs. Keating only knew because her niece was a big fan. She didn't know much about the celebrity, but she saw a magazine headline or the occasional photograph. There was no way Harry Styles was Simone's father or Y/n's husband.

"Right, um, I'll have a talk with her when I get home," Y/n said, sounding a little surprised.

Mrs. Keating smiled warmly at the girl. "Lovely. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. Lying is frowned upon at this school."

"She's—My daughter isn't lying," Y/n said. "My husband is a musician. He’s—"

"It's okay if that's the story you want to give to Simone," Mrs. Keating said. Perhaps Y/n didn't know who Simone's father was and she just told her daughter offhandedly that her dad was a celebrity. "But it's started quite a few arguments in the classroom and on the playground."

Y/n mumbled some kind of reply, and Mrs. Keating found herself saying, "Sorry, what was that, dear?"

"I said, I will talk to Simone about being mindful of the things we say and how we say them," Y/n said, clearer this time.

"Wonderful. Have a good day, Y/n."

"It's Mrs.—Nevermind. Have a good day, Mrs. Keating.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

A few weeks after her meeting with Simone's teacher, everything seemed to be fine. She wasn't totally fond of Mrs. Keating's condescension, but there were no more incidences, and Harry and Y/n decided to wait to talk to the school's administration about everything. They wanted as little drama as possible.

And then it was Simone's turn for her class' "All About Me" presentation. She was supposed to make a poster that was, of course, all about her—favorite foods, favorite things to do at home, and of course, her family.

Y/n didn't think much of it, but that was mostly because Harry helped Simone with the project while he was on a brief break from touring. He and Simone had a lot of fun cutting out photographs with curvy patterned scissors, gluing on large bubbly letters that spelled out her name, and writing little paragraphs under each picture. And the glitter. Y/n knew she would be finding pink glitter around the house for years to come after this project.

Harry and Simone showed the finished project to Y/n, and she was thoroughly surprised by her husband's crafting skills. There were pictures of Simone in Holmes Chapel with Anne and Gemma, Simone's stuffed animals having a tea party (real china, because of course Uncle Louis thought Simone needed real china to have a proper tea party), Y/n and Simone at Disneyland with Mickey Mouse ears, and one of the whole family in the hospital when Collette was born. Harry was in a few pictures, obviously, but Y/n didn't think anyone in Simone's classmates would recognize him. It wasn't like there were pictures of him onstage or anything like that.

So she was surprised when a week after the project was turned in, Y/n was once again called into a meeting with her daughter's teacher.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"No husband again?" Mrs. Keating asked Y/n. Really, though, that didn't come as a surprise.

"Actually, he's just running a little late. He should be here in a few minutes."

"Well, I'd just like to speak to you about the project Simone turned in last week," the woman said. "I thought we had squashed this whole 'dad is a rockstar bit' at school, but she had a picture of Harry Styles on her poster."

"Yeah, well—"

"Yes, well," Mrs. Keating interrupted. "You see, it's not right to fill a child's head with delusions about who her father is, and honestly, I feel like a good mother wouldn't let her child get her hopes up in such a way."

It was one thing to let children to believe in Santa Claus, but for a mother to lie to her daughter about the identity of her father, especially such an outlandish lie, it was downright irresponsible in the teacher's book.

Y/n looked shocked, but Mrs. Keating didn't know why. Surely, the girl knew why she was called for another meeting today. The woman expected to have a calm, reasonable discussion about Simone, but Y/n took her by surprise and said, "You—You, know what? I'm not comfortable having this conversation with just you. I think I'd like to speak to the principal as well."

She looked affronted, Mrs. Keating thought, though she didn't know why. Nothing she said to the girl was unreasonable. It was clear Y/n needed some assistance on how she should raise her daughter. She was just trying to help the poor girl.

"Y/n, there's no need to get hostile, dear—"

"Hostile? You haven't seen anything yet. I swear to God—"

"Hey, sorry I'm late—Woah. Everything okay, darling?"

Mrs. Keating's eyes flitted to the door of her classroom, and her eyes widened in shock. That was...that was Harry Styles. In her classroom.

"No, we're leaving," Y/n said, stalking over to Harry and gripping his hand when she reached him.

Harry immediately rested a hand on Y/n's shoulder, his face filled with concern. They mumbled to each other for a few seconds, and all Mrs. Keating could do was flounder at the fact that Harry Styles had a daughter, and she was in her kindergarten class.

"Right," Mrs. Keating heard Harry say. "I think we'll continue this discussion another day."

Harry's voice was thick with emotion. Anger, Mrs. Keating realized. She scrambled to think of something to say that would smooth things over. "Mr. Styles, I'm so sorry about this, I—"

"I think it's my wife you owe an apology to, but as I said, we'll talk about it another day."

The pair left without another word, harry's arm slung around Y/n's shoulders.

The following week, Mrs. Keating was written up and was informed that Simone had transferred to a different school.

The Production Assistant

Amy didn't want to make an ass out of herself and assume anything, but she was pretty sure her boss was in love with her.

Well, Harry technically wasn't her boss, but she was a PA on the set of Don't Worry Darling, and he had a leading role, so he was basically her boss.

If Amy told anyone what she thought, they would all think she was crazy, which was why she didn't say anything. She just got this vibe from Harry. He always went out of his way to say hello to her and ask how she was doing, he gave her a kind smile whenever she passed by him, and he once brought her coffee, even though her job was to bring coffee to him!

She just had this gut feeling like there was this unspoken thing between them, but neither of them acted on it because there were so many prying eyes. It was honestly admirable how professional Harry was about the whole thing.

"Good morning Harry," Amy said as she knocked on his trailer door. "They're almost ready for you on set."

Harry stepped out of his trailer. He was in costume—a crisp suit and hair styled to perfection. He was just so dreamy, Amy thought, and when he smiled at her stomach erupted into butterflies. "Thanks, Amy. Always makin' sure I'm on time."

Amy blushed. "Just doing my job, Harry."

"Call me H. Most people do," he told her.

A nickname? Harry said "most people" called him H, but she knew that was probably him just saving face. He really did like her.

"Good luck!" Amy called to him as he walked onto the set of his 1950s-era home.

Harry gave her a thumbs-up and winked at her over his shoulder, which only solidified Amy's suspicions.

Harry Styles was definitely into her.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Amy was going to make her move today, she had to.

Between all the flirty smiles and jokes and that one time Harry called her "Ames," she couldn't take it anymore. She didn't care if they had to keep their relationship a secret, she just wanted them to address the elephant in the room.

Harry was in his trailer while production filmed a couple scenes that he wasn't in. He usually watched to give his friends moral support, but today he only left when he was called to set.

Amy approached his trailer, a coffee just the way he liked it in her hands. She was so excited, she didn’t hear two voices laughing until she opened the trailer door.

“Shove off, H!”

“Shove off? That’s rude.”

“You’re crushing me, you big baby!”

“That’s exactly what I am. You know how hard it is to get your attention these days? I’ve got a small army between me and you. And it’s just gonna get worse.”

“Well you’re the one who doesn’t know how to pull ou—Oh. Hello.”

Amy was frozen on the steps of Harry’s trailer, unsure of the sight in front of her. Harry was sitting on the sofa, but around his broad shoulders, she could see he was actually sitting on a young woman’s lap. Amy couldn’t see much, just half of a face and hair tied up into a ponytail, but alarm bells immediately rang in her head.

Having noticed his friend stopped talking, Harry craned his neck to look over at Amy. He grinned at her, but made no move to stand up from where he was perched on the young woman’s lap.

“Oh. Hey, Amy! Am I being called onto set? I thought my call time was at seven.”

All Amy could look at was the way the young woman’s hand rested so casually on Harry’s knee, like she didn’t have to think twice about touching him. It was so simple yet affectionate, exactly how Amy imagined being with Harry would be like.

Somehow, she managed to wrench her gaze away. “No. No, uh, I just thought I’d check in because you’re usually, um, usually on set with the rest of us.”

“I know. Sorry about that. I just got a surprise visit from Y/n here, and she’s just desperate for my attention.”

She could be a friend, Amy thought. Friends had friendly banter and were close like that. Amy decided to still hold out hope. All the signs were there that Harry liked her.

Said random girl pinched Harry’s arm, but he swatted her hand away. They giggled with each other and kept pushing each other around like school children, and Amy was suddenly filled with immense jealousy. Who was this girl? Didn’t she have any respect for the fact that someone else was in the trailer?

“Honestly, Amy, you can have him. He’s being a pain in the ass,” the woman, Y/n, said.

Harry immediately pouted at Y/n. “I’ll remember that,” he said, but Y/n merely rolled her eyes at him.

They began bickering again, and Amy took that as her cue to leave. As she walked back to set, Harry’s coffee still in her hands, she didn’t know what to think.

Before long, it was time for Harry to shoot his scenes, and Y/n was nowhere to be found. Harry was as friendly and good natured as ever, he even asked Amy to wish him luck before a first take!

She wanted to watch Harry film his scenes, but she was unfortunately called away to tend to other things. Amy ran around the lot, carrying messages and running things back and forth for whoever saw her walking by. It was exhausting at times, but it was a foot in the door, and that was what mattered.

Between errands, Amy found Harry at the craft services table, and without even thinking about it, she made a beeline for him.

“Hey, H,” she said, trying to sound like she ran into him by chance. “How’s the shoot going?”

“Good, I think. Thank you for asking,” he said, smiling at her. “How are you? Working hard or hardly working?”

Amy blushed and let out a laugh. He was so endearingly dorky, and he always made a point to ask how she was doing. He was just so thoughtful.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said.

“Good. Well, if no one told you today, I really appreciate your hard work. I’m sure this place would be in shambles if it wasn’t for you and everyone else working behind the scenes.”

Amy swore she was going to swoon any second now. Thankfully, she managed to keep it together. “O—Of course. I’m happy to help.”

“Can I trust you?” he asked her, his voice dropping so only Amy could hear him.

Gulping, she asked. “Of course.”

Harry stepped just a little bit closer, and Amy had to hold her breath as she waited for him to say what she’d been fantasizing about for weeks. “Do you mind going to my trailer and checking on Y/n?

Amy felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her feet. “Check? On—On Y/n?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes she doesn’t tell me how she’s really feeling, and I worry something’s bothering her.”

“Uh...Yes! Of—Of course,” she stuttered, willing thoughts back into her head.

Harry squeezed Amy’s shoulder affectionate. “Thank you, really. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He was so endearing. His eyes, which were usually filled with something so warm and boyish and charming, so inherently Harry, but just then something flickered there, something softer.

But not for her, Amy realized. For Y/n.

With a couple more words shared with Harry, Amy set off for his trailer, mulling the last few weeks over in her head.

Could it all have been nothing? Did she really read into their interactions too much? Amy had never been in love before, but she was sure from that conversation with Harry that he was head over heels in love with Y/n. It sucked more than she wanted it to, though perhaps she should’ve known. Of course Harry would be in love with someone. Amy never stood a chance.

Knocking once on the trailer door, she popped her head in. Y/n was laying across the sofa, her arm draped over her eyes. When the door opened, though, she startled.

“Oh. Hey, Amy.”

She sounded kind but tired. “Hi. Harry wanted me to come by and ask if you need anything.”

She smiled, the kind of smile that said Y/n was familiar with this kind of treatment. “H is a bit of a mother hen, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Amy asked, stepping into the trailer. “If you need water, a glass of wine, whatever you need, I can get it for you.”

“No wine for me, but a water would be nice, now that I think about it.”

Y/n stood up from the couch, but wobbled a bit. Amy rushed over and rested a hand on the young woman’s elbow. “Should I get Harry? If you’re sick, there’s a medical tent nearby—

“I’m fine, I promise. I know the symptoms by now,” she said. Y/n looked at Amy, almost as if she was assessing her. “I’m pregnant.”

Amy wasn’t sure she could handle much more today. “You’re...”

“Yep.”

“Does Harry...?”

“Know? No, but I think he suspects. He knows me pretty well by now.”

Y/n let Amy help her sit back down on the sofa. “It probably isn’t my place to pry, but you...you don’t sound excited.”

“Oh, I am, I’m just exhausted,” Y/n explained, and the smile on her face made Amy believe that. “It’s just...the pandemic. I’m worried about having the baby in conditions like this, you know?”

Amy didn’t have much to say to that. What could she say? She was twenty, there was no way she could be of any help to Y/n’s current situation.

“Sorry, you barely even know me. I think spending most of my time with children under ten years old makes me miss adult companionship,” she said, then her eyes widened. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Amy understood the implication. She guessed from how unfazed Y/n seemed to be at being pregnant. She didn’t know how Y/n and Harry managed to keep so many secrets, though his little speech about trusting her earlier now made sense.

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” Amy promised, and meant it. “But I think you should see a doctor anyway.”

“You’re probably right, but I think I just need to sleep for a little. Thank you for checking in. Harry talks about you a lot. He was so nervous about jumping into acting, but you’ve been a friend to him when I couldn’t be here physically, so thank you.”

It was quite literally impossible to harbor any bitterness or ill will towards Y/n. She was so kind and genuine. Exactly the kind of person Harry Styles would have a baby with.

Smiling, Amy said, “Just doing my job.”

The Daycare Worker

The daycare Heather worked at was known to celebrities for its discretion. Everyone who worked there was hired with the most important rule being that they were not allowed to reveal the identities of the patrons or their children. No photos, which was a given at any daycare, no talking about who dropped children off, and definitely no selling stories. The daycare wanted to provide a place for celebrities to drop off their children without worrying about their children's photo appearing in a magazine or on social media.

Heather knew all of this and abided by all the rules. After working there for two years, she'd become desensitized to the people she worked for, and it wasn't like she saw them all that much anyways, it was the children she saw the most.

The only family she couldn't get her head around was Y/n's. As far as Heather knew, Y/n wasn't a celebrity, but she dropped off her kids, a mix of six, a couple days a week. Heather never asked, of course, but she assumed that whoever Y/n had her children with was the famous person. But her kids were cute, and very sweet and well-behaved, which could not be said for all the kids Heather took care of.

The next time Y/n dropped off her kids, Heather was at the check-in desk. She walked in with a baby carrier on her chest, little Natalia tucked in it as she pushed a stroller. Maeve ran ahead while Julian clung to the pair of jeans Y/n was wearing. He was often reluctant to leave his mom's side, but once he was playing with Maeve and the other children, he was happy as a clam.

"Good afternoon!" Heather chirped. "Dropping the four of them off?"

Y/n smiled at Heather, and she thought that while Y/n technically wasn't a celebrity, she was incredibly beautiful. "Good morning. Just the twins and Geneva today."

Heather helped get everyone checked in and let Maeve inside while Y/n got Geneva out of the stroller she was in. Julian made no move to go to the preschool room with his sister, but that was to be expected. Once Geneva and Maeve were settled in their proper rooms, Heather turned her focus on the little boy who was still clinging to his mother's leg.

"Your hair is getting so long, Julian!" she said, bending down to his level.

"I want it to look like Daddy's," he said, big green eyes looking back at her.

Y/n bent down to Julian then too. "Okay, JuJu. Mommy will be back in a little bit. I have to work and run a couple errands and then I'm gonna pick you up and we're gonna go see Daddy at work. How does that sound?"

Heather's ears perked at the mention of Julian's dad, who had yet to pick up from the daycare before, but she quickly focused back on Julian. "That sounds like a lot of fun!"

After a little more coaxing, Julian eventually let go of Y/n and joined Maeve in the daycare with only a little bit of sniffling. Y/n handed over the twins' lunch boxes and some snacks and diapers for GiGi. She left quickly, not wanting Julian to see her and start crying, thanking Heather over her shoulder on her way out.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Another day, another shift at the check-in desk.

Heather was currently manning the front on her own while holding Geneva in her arms. The room where the toddlers played was close to the desk, and sometimes Heather liked to lean over and pick up a baby just because it was always nice to cuddle a cute baby, and GiGi was definitely that.

As she held the toddler in her arms, Heather thought back on Y/n dropping off the kids earlier in the afternoon.

The mom had come in around the same time as she normally did, in the early afternoon once they were out of school, only the twins came in with pink and blue hair.

"Wow," Heather had said. "You guys look so cool! Who did your hair?"

"Daddy!" Maeve said, her cotton candy blue hair bouncing as she skipped over to show Heather her new hair.

"Yep. Dad died their hair. We're not very happy with Daddy right now," Y/n said through a smile.

Heather tried to hide her laugh, though the situation was a little funny. "I'm guessing the hair was a surprise?"

"Yep!" Y/n said, still smiling, probably so she didn't upset her kids. "After I explicitly told him to wait until the summer because they go to a private school, but did he listen? No." Seeming to realize she was ranting to a daycare employee, Y/n shook her head. "Sorry, that was unnecessary, but Dad is picking up today. He's on the approved pick-up list, so everything should be fine."

"Great! Have a good day!" Heather said, a little more excited than she normally was. It wasn't like she spent all of her time wondering who the kids' famous father was, but she also couldn't help but be curious.

A couple hours later, and Heather was holding Geneva while Maeve and Julian played with toy cars and Natalia slept soundly in the nap room. It was getting to be about that time when they went home, and Heather was slowly filling with anticipation.

"Do you want to go play, GiGi?" Heather asked, pinching the toddler's cheek. Geneva shook her head and tightened her little legs around Heather's waist. "Fine by me," she said, switching the toddler to her other arm.

Heather was happy to hold Geneva and play with her at the front of the daycare. She was, for all intents and purposes, a relatively easy baby. She was calm and babbling until she noticed someone come to the front desk. "Dada!"

"Hi, GiGi! Did you have fun today?"

Now, Heather didn't live under a rock, and perhaps it was embarrassing, but she didn't have to turn around to know who had come to pick up Geneva. She gave herself two seconds to get ahold of herself and turn around to face Harry Styles, the person who was quite literally her phone background.

"H—Hi. You must be here to pick up Geneva, Natalia, and the twins," Heather said, grateful that she sounded relatively normal. She had no intentions of freaking Harry out.

Harry's grin was wide as he took Geneva from Heather's arms. "I am. My wife said to be here at four thirty, so here I am."

Wife. Harry Styles had a wife. And children. Not just one baby, but multiple children, and the rest of the world was none the wiser. It was nearly impossible to wrap her head around—she wasn’t even going to think about the fact that Simone was almost ten years old and what that might mean—but she tried her best to save her freak out for after he and his kids left.

"Right. She said you'd be coming. I'll call for them."

Heather tried her best to ignore the way Harry freaking Styles was kissing Geneva's cheeks repeatedly and using a baby voice to talk to her, otherwise she would probably melt into a puddle in front of him, which was definitely against company policy. She called for the twins and collected a sleeping Natalia from the nap room, who fussed a little but eventually settled when she was in her father's arms.

"Daddy!"

Maeve and Julian ran up to Harry excitedly, whose grin only widened as they rushed over to him. "There are my little monkeys! How are you?"

"We colored a picture for you!" Maeve said.

"Yeah, so you can give it to Mommy and she won't be mad at you anymore," Julian added.

Harry laughed and marveled at the picture his kids handed to him, Natalia still sleeping soundly despite the commotion. "I would say don't worry about that, but I think this will do the trick."

In no time, Natalia was strapped into the baby carrier that Harry put on with ease and the twins were in their jackets. Heather thought seeing Harry Styles with a baby strapped to his chest and the twins hanging off his arms was about the cutest thing she would ever see.

With a kind smile, Harry thanked Heather and went over to where Geneva's stroller was so he could get her into it, and though she knew she shouldn't have, she strained her ears to hear what he said to the twins as he left the daycare.

"She's really mad at me?"

"She did that thing where she smiles even though she's not happy," Maeve told him.

"Worse than I thought," he said solemnly, though Heather was sure he was joking. Kind of. "Well, what do you think, monkeys? Flowers? Date night? Spa day?"

"I think just saying you're sorry will work," Julian said, looking at Harry with those big eyes of his, ones that he got from his father, Heather now realized.

Harry looked down at Julian with a start. "You know what, Jules? I think you might be the smartest man I know."

He hefted Julian onto his hip and kissed his cheek until Julian erupted into a fit of giggles. And as she saw Harry's eyes crinkle with joy, she realized that was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

They eventually left, Harry saying something about stopping by the studio before heading home, which the twins cheered about. Once they were gone, Heather let out a huge breath, finally feeling like she could breathe normally again.

She didn't know the whole story. She didn't know how Harry and Y/n met or what it might have been like to keep such a monumental secret from the world. As far as the public knew, Harry had ended a public relationship, when in reality, it seems like he'd been in a private one for a very long time. And a happy one, at that.

For a moment, Heather's fingers itched for her phone so she could call her friend and tell her what happened today, but she couldn't. And she didn't want to, she realized. Not really. Harry's family was happy living in anonymity. Heather wasn't going to ruin that for them, and she realized just how much trust and faith he and Y/n must have put in this facility to have their children come here, and she was glad to be someone that (technically) Harry Styles trusted, and that was pretty fucking cool.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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kindestofkings · 4 months

Text

tis the damn season

robert keating x reader (she/her)

heres the requested bobby fic! reader is bobbys neighbour in dublin and they've had a situationship thats always off again on again, which ryan is v fed up with lol <3

masterlist

enjoy and also happy new year ! forgot how much I love making these so please come with some more requests, I always love getting them xxx

yourusername posted to their story!

year FIVE of working as a waitress during silly season, people need to be KINDER

yourbestfriend not all heros wear capes yourneighbour1 god bless you ↳ its been TOUGH but neighbours christmas party next week !! ↳ yourneighbour1 UGH best part of the season alsooo did I see a certain curly haired bass player make his return to the road...? ↳ feck he's home earlier than usual 😀 ↳ yourneighbour1 time to rekindle the infamous situationship??

yourusername posted to their story!

the return of the loudest next door neighbour known to man, yay 👍👍

yourneighbour1 😏😏 bobbyskeetz get rid of that sarcastic yay ryanmcmahon_15 yay my fav idiots have been reunited ! ↳ idiots? plural? why am I an idiot ryan?? ↳ ryanmcmahon_15 hmmhmm when will yee learn

bobbyskeetz

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bobbyskeetz home.

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joshjenkinson_ lookin so mysterious and interesting xx

inhalerfan1 he is one of us

inhalerfan2 missed the intense staring since tour has ended, thanks mr skeetz !

inhalerfan3 christmas came early

yourusername smoking kills

bobbyskeetz excuse me?? I have NEVER and WOULD never yourusername big fat liar yourbestfriend y'all are the worst, every fecking christmas ryanmcmahon_15 what she said !

yourusername

liked by yourneighbour1 and others

yourusername the kids table at the neighbours christmas party is always the place to be <3

also slayed so hard with my kris kindle present he literally cried for hours 💅

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bobbyskeetz I cried cause you threw it at me

yourneighbour1 weakling bobbyskeetz ugh thanks tho.... I guess

ryanmcmahon_15 bobby and yn being adults when

yourbestfriend but then what would happen to their beloved situationship? yourusername guys you know this is MY comment section right?

joshjenkson_ hahah the perfect gift for him

yourneighbour2 ugh BEST PARTY EVAAAA

yourusername

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yourusername and it always leads to you and my hometown

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yourbestfriend ah ryanmcmahon_15 shes quoting tis the damn season by THE taylor swift, what does this mean?

ryanmcmahon_1 gasp not the sad tones..

bobbyskeetz confused we're from the same hometown...?

yourusername you uncultured swine its a lyric 😭

bobbyskeetzswife

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bobbyskeetzswife OH MY GOD I JUST MET BOBBY, IM FREAKING OUT

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inhalerfan1 no way what the hell !! where?

bobbyskeetzswife literally in Dingle, Kerry 😭😭 he said hes with the lads but they ran out of drink so he was forced to go to the shops 😭 😭 inhalerfan1 omg hahahah I can't believe they just played the 3Arena

inhalerfan2 no way wonder why they're in dingle, such a random Irish town...

inhalerfan3 that girl that they all follow is in Kerry aswell with grace (eli's girlfriend) bobbyskeetzswife is that yourusername? I wonder who she is, bobby is always interacting with her inhalerfan2 huh wonder has he got a girlfriend

graciebrns

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graciebrns wholesome few days before what I've been told, will be the best party I'll ever attend

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elijahhewson promise its not an oversell

joshjenkinson_ agreed yourusername throws a phenomenal party yourusername ah flattered lads thank you

bobbyskeetz the million hikes will be worth it

yourusername you said you loved going on hikes bobbyskeetz course I do love 😔 inhalerfan2 love ?? gathering evidence

inhalerfan1 wholesome band trip bless

yourneighbour1 woohoo almost time to partyyyy

ryanmcmahon_15 how did one row of houses produce so many party animals?

yourusername party animals okay old man bobbyskeetz just cause you can't ever keep up ryan yourneighbour1 its how we were raised 😤

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername hot people have birthdays on nye 💅

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bobbyskeetz so feckin hot

yourusername baby stapppppp that

yourbestfriend was the BEST time ever

elijahhewson class night it was, graciebrns whats the verdict?

graciebrns best. night. ever. yourusername I love you thanks for having me <33 yourusername you kidding me? thank you for coming !!

inhalerfan1 oh hello inhaler spotted ..

inhalerfan2 not bobby on the decks

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz happy birthday gorgeous, love cleaning up bottles with you on new years day x

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yourusername ahhhh the taylor reference 😭

yourusername my favourite nosey neighbour <3

ryanmcmahon_15 I have never been so invested in two idiots getting together properly

yourbestfriend so insufferable its taken like 13 years for them not to be idiots yourusername and what about you two being idiots.. bobbyskeetz whats your favourite book trope again love? yourusername FRIENDS TO LOVERS BABY, take notes ryanmcmahon_15 yourbestfriend

inhalerfan1 sad sad day for the bobby girlies 💔

bobbyskeetzswife noooooooooo

finished xx

#bobby skeetz #robert keating #robert keating x reader #robert keating imagine #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine #smau

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killersfool · 6 months

Note

fluff w bobby! idk smth like hurt/comfort. maybe she’s had a bad date and goes to bobby and they like confess , idrk but i think that’d be cute

Comfort | ROBERT KEATING

thank you for the request !!

PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader

WORDS: 3.4k

SUMMARY: reader goes on a terrible date. she calls her old work friend, rob, who comforts her and opens up about some hidden feelings.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff

WARNINGS: references to eating disorder

The worst date of my life occured on a Tuesday afternoon, starting at exactly 8.43pm. For starters, the guy was late, 13 minutes late on the dot. Never trust your Tinder matches. I guess I should've figured out what a mess the whole thing would be. I'd sat down at a window seat in Nando's. Sun glowed gently across the table. It gave me a positive outlook on the whole thing. But by the end of the evening, as I left that dreaded restaurant with a soggy bag of chips in my right hand, I was holding back tears. Rain was pouring. My umbrella had broken. Dark clouds had appeared in the sky. Pathetic fallacy. I could hardly even breathe as I sat down in the train.

My first port of call — for some odd reason — was my old work friend. Rob and I had worked together in a restaurant just down my street. We'd been through hell together. My worst memory was when I dropped about ten glasses across the kitchen floor, accidentally smashing them to pieces. The manager heard the crash ring out through the entire restaurant. He ran through the kitchen doors. They swung open as if he was a wild beast prepared to eat me whole. Bones and all. This was the first time I'd made a major mistake as a kitchen porter. I was trying to prepare myself for the incessant shouting to soon ensue. But before I could even build a wall around me, a hand grabbed mine and pulled me out of the kitchen. I wasn't sure who it was grabbing my pinky finger or why they were helping me escape but I didn't complain, I just let them lead me through the main restaurant where guests were staring at us with patient eyes. They really believed we were running around just to ask for their order.

The long mane of curly hair made me realise who was dragging me alone. Robert Keating. The waiter who's sarcasm was off the charts. Each time he came into the kitchen, he'd be going on a rant about how stupid the job was and how much he hated the manager. Most of the chefs agreed. But they'd make sure to put on cheery faces whenever Mr Jacob came in to check everything was alright. Robert had worn Doc Martens to the beach when they had a dinner party to celebrate 10 years of the restaurant. I had made sure to come along with my best dress on and trainers. Robert had appeared with some Doc Marten boots, red shorts and Joy Division shirt, assuring everyone that his boots were 'made for walking on sandy terrain'. Then he complained about them for the entire time. He didn't make any sense.

Once we'd escaped through the front door of 'Jacob's Pizza', we continued running down the street until we got to the park. I knew by that moment I'd sure be fired. No one was running after us. No one really gave two shits about us. We weren't a necessity to the work force. We were just there. Looming.

Rob had sat down on one of the kid's swings (the tiny ones that you can't get into once you grow out of them). He allowed his infinitely long legs to dangle off the edge—not putting them through the holes because he'd surely get stuck which would've been a very Rob thing to do. The park was empty. It was a Tuesday evening. Stars lined the sky. Rob patted the swing next to him, asking me through his motions to join him. I complied. Awkwardly slotted myself in a mildly comfortable position onto the swing. I grabbed onto the rusty chains which had been there for dozens of years. Paint ripped away by years of use, years of bad weather.

"Mr Jacob didn't deserve us. We were too good for him." Sixteen-year-old Rob always thought quite highly of himself—not to the point of being a show off—but just enough to make you shake your head. The use of the collective pronoun was different for him. A change to usual. He was including me in his declaration of greatness. His blue eyes were shining and he'd thrown his apron to the ground. Black button-up shirt and black trousers. His smile was a lighthouse, illuminating that stretch of grass before us.

"I fucked up. Sorry, Rob." I'd looked away from him. Wrung my fingers together, picked at my nails. We'd been working there for months. Of course I had to be the one to make a mistake.

"Hey, don't worry. There's loads of jobs around here. I'm sure you'll find somewhere else," he assured. He reached out a hand between the two swings, let it linger on my shoulder. I followed suit with him. Chucked my apron into the nearest bin. One of those bins that never get emptied. Overflowing with fizzy drinks and sweet packets.

I allowed my head to drop down onto his hand. His fingers took a short hike through my hair.

He then started to laugh. "How the fuck did you drop all those glasses? I swear you purposely tipped the tray over."

"What if I did?" I smirked. It had been accident. Or maybe my irritation at the place just wanted to come out.

Rob was pressing his shoes to the ground, trying to make the swing fly upwards. He'd smiled to himself at my words. "Then I thank you for your service. I'd been trying to get out of there for a while. My band are getting way more gigs and the job was getting in the way of everything."

"Your band? You've never told me about that." I was intrigued. I had no idea he played an instrument. I knew that he loved The Strokes as he'd always put them on the kitchen playlist. I couldn't imagine him on a stage. Performing. Making music. It was the last thing I'd expected he'd do.

"Yeah. We've called it Inhaler. An ode to Eli's asthma—"

"Hewson? He's in it? Fuck no." I'd never been the biggest fan of Elijah. He'd dated my friend and left her heartbroken. I'd never personally spoken to guy but from a distance, I was the slightest bit terrified of him.

"I had no choice! He forced me into it."

"So he's singing, right? Then you're playing what?"

"Bass."

"Really? That's..."

"So sexy. I know."

That's when I shook my head, smiling. His face was serious but as my teeth appeared, so did his. We were both laughing at nothing, giddy because of the air cooling our cheeks. Just his presence, him being next to me, made me feel so much warmer.

Now my eyes are teary, my throat is raw. I'm sat in the corner of a train compartment. Toddlers are screaming at their parents, music is blasting in my ears and the fields turn to blurs of green as I lean back into my seat.

The guy was a prick. A self-centered waste of time who thought the whole world revolved around him and only him. I was asking all the questions. He didn't want to know anything about me. His mouth would never stop moving. I hardly got a single word into any conversation. He showed off about his job, his money, the university he went to and he joked about how much I ate. He'd stared at my stomach when I stood up, as if he was trying to measure my waist with his eyes. That's when I just walked out of the place, taking my remaining chips with me. I don't know why I even agreed to go. He wasn't even nice on the app.

Phone ringing. Hand over my stomach. I had gained weight. I'd started eating more than I had months ago. Food was a comfort, food was a memory-store, food was something to keep me going. There were all kinds of flavours that would bring me back to figments of my past. Eating was a way to reminisce and a way to make new memories. It had irked me—that look in his eye, the raise of a brow. I was skinnier on my Tinder profile. But back then I wasn't happy. Constantly focused on my calorie intake, on how much exercise I had done in a week.

"Hello?" Rob picks up. His words play through my headphones. His voice hasn't changed since I last saw him. It's still low and raspy.

I sniffle, finding it hard to even get my words out. I can see in the train window that my skin is blotchy and red. My bottom lip is quivering. I'm trying to hold everything in. I'm like a bomb on the verge of explosion. I don't like crying. I especially don't like crying on a train where eyes are glancing over in my direction.

"You alright?" He whispers. It's 10pm and I'm wondering what he's been doing. Has he been at a show? I've been trying to keep a track of where they've been going on their tour. Right now he could be absolutely anywhere. The last I heard he was in Scotland.

"What are you up to?" I try to divert the conversation to him. I just want to hear him talk. Anything he tells me, I'll listen.

"I'm back home in Dublin. Eating mince pies. I know it's early but my Ma is too obsessed with Christmas for her own good. It's what, 2nd of November? And she's already got her tree up. Tinsel and everything. What's up with you? You sound different. Has Eli been giving you shit again? That gobshite needs his head knocked in."

He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin.

"I miss your Ma." I remember the one time we walked home from work together. His Ma had given me a lung constricting hug. She'd thought I was Rob's girlfriend. Told me that he non-stop talked about me. I didn't believe her. I still don't believe her. I could never see Rob having a crush on anyone, let alone me. "It's nothing to do with Eli. Although I agree, he is a little bitch. It's actually this shitty bloke I met on Tinder. He thought he was all that. Most boring guy I've met in my life."

"Instagram, please?"

"I don't trust you with anyone's Instagram."

"At least tell me his name. I want to make fun of him."

"Albert."

"What a name. Honestly, I'm thinking about getting my name legally changed to that. Albert. Wow. I'm impressed."

"He told me his nickname was 'Alby'. I almost laughed." I smile to myself, wiping tears away. I hear Rob snort through the phone.

"Found his Instagram. That was easy. He looks weird. Shit hairline."

"Rob!!! Keep away from his DM's please."

He went silent. He was most definitely already sending him stupid messages. I didn't really mind. The guys deserved shit after what he put me through. Two hours of nonsense. At least the food was good. Nando's is my favourite.

"Aren't you in Dublin? Do you want to come play some bird bingo? It's been a while since I saw you. We've got at least a years supply of mince pies."

I'm cheesing. Sucking in quick breaths as my tears stop falling. The train comes to a halt in the station. My head is leaning against the window, my mouth opens wide as I see a figure sat down on a bench. That familiar mop of hair, those shining eyes, an entire bass guitar case sat beside him. I'm gobsmacked.

The call ends before I can try to speak. Before long, my legs are moving and I'm shuffling through crowds, trying to find the exit. Maybe I was just imagining him. Maybe I just wanted him to be there. But then I'm outside the train, walking down the platform and two arms wrap around my stomach.

"Hey," is all he says, straight into my ear.

He isn't usually this touchy. We used to go for coffee and he'd never hug me. We weren't that kind of friends. Now his arms are holding me flush against his chest and his hair is tickling my ear and I just want to close my eyes and blow the world away.

I turn around to face him. His hands are still on my waist, scrunching the material of my jumper. He has a cardigan on, his eyelashes are so long, he's watching me with worry etched upon his features.

Then I break down. I can't deal with it anymore. I can't hold it in.

"Sweetheart..." He pulls me straight into his chest, hands cupping my head like it's going to split into two. I sob into his cardigan. My palms are against his shoulderblades and his head is on my shoulder. I can feel his nose smush into my skin and he mumbles quiet comforts into the air. "He doesn't deserve you. He's an idiot. Piece of shit." Words of comfort are usually just insults from Rob—but they still make me feel way better.

I don't know what I would've done without him. I keep imagining myself going home and crying into my pillow, no one there to tell me it'll be okay. I'm so glad he's here. I'm so glad he's holding me.

"Let's go home?" He pulls me away the slightest bit just to see my face. His thumb jumps just beneath my eye, wiping away the falling tears. He then gently kisses my nose. I'm shocked and confused. The warmth of his lips against my freezing nose is a welcome relief. I'm sure a sigh escaped my lips at the gesture.

I'm not sure which home he means. His or mine. But wherever we're going, I'll follow him. I want to be somewhere warm. I want to eat some nice, warm food and forget that guy ever even existed. Rob still has an arm around me as we walk through the station. He gives me a packet of tissues and buys me a hot chocolate from Starbucks. Even whilst carrying his entire bass along on his other shoulder, he makes sure to keep an arm around my back, fingers curled over my waist.

"How come you've got your bass?" I taste the hot chocolate. It burns my tongue. My spare hand points along the rather massive case which is definitely heavy.

"I was practicing with the band. I was about to head home when you called me so I ran to the station instead."

"So you lied about the mince pies?"

"Oh no. That is very true. You'll see when we get back. I just lied about where I was—you know, for the surprise element."

His then. We are going to his. I've never been inside his house before. I've only walked down his street and glanced through the windows. He'd always have the best Halloween decorations. The Keating house was always a go to in order to get the best sweets. His mum would come out dressed in the most flamboyant costume possible. Rob would always be standing beside her, forced forwards with a bag of sweets in his hands.

Up past his parents' cars. Still some Halloween stickers on the windowsill and pumpkins next to the welcome mat. He twists his key in the door. It clicks and opens up to a corridor. He was right about the Christmas decorations. Snow globes on a bookshelf, wreath on the door, Christmas tree lights are colourful through the window. The whole living room is dark green.

The house is silent. The dishwasher is wildly spinning and wind is wailing. Other than that it is extremely quiet. And warm. So very warm. I can actually feel my fingers now.

Rob takes my hand once I've pulled off my shoes. He pulls me along into the living room, we crash down onto the sofa.

"Tell me everything," he says. He stretches out his legs and places his feet on the coffee table. He has fluffy socks that have the face of a red robin. "All the nitty gritty. Get it all out of your system."

"I don't even know where to start." I pull at the skin of my cheek, look up at the ceiling. "We went to Nando's. It was my idea. I got there bang on time but had to wait for ages for him to get there. He was late—"

"First red flag."

"Right? I should've just left. Anyway, he came in. Blamed his lateness on traffic when he literally lived in the town I went to. Like wouldn't you just walk? He ordered hardly any food then got all weird when I ordered my usual. I had a pudding too. He was just so judgy. He told me about his degree in Maths and how he was doing a phD. He didn't seem to impressed about my Law degree. He barely even let me talk. Then the last thing, the cherry on top, was when he stared at my belly when I stood up as if I had some kind of disease. I felt ill. I've never been so insecure in my life."

Rob's mouth was open wide, jaw dropped. He kept his eyes on mine. Listening. It was so nice to have someone just hear what I was saying for once.

"You're the prettiest, most intelligent girl— I'm going to have a right word with that nob— I'm going to have a right fucking word with him. He thinks he can just..." His burst of emotions makes him stand up and pace around the room. I smile at his compliments but frown when he starts to get angry.

"It's fine. I'm here now. I don't have to think about him again."

Rob sits down again. Then his head falls onto my stomach. He closes his eyes. His arm reaches over for the coffee table. He grabs two mince pies. One for me, one for him. Bending his arm and extending it, he passes one up to me. I gratefully take it. I peel off the metal then take a bite. It’s delicious. Rob is smiling up at me. There’s a little pastry on his chin. I wipe it away with my thumb. My finger seems to have a mind of its own. It starts to trace lines along his face. Beauty spot to beauty spot. Like his skin is paper and I’m doing a join the dot. My thumb lands back on his lips and I trace along the two pink shapes. A little chapped, warm and soft. He opens his eyes again.

Then I’m hit by this weird feeling. Like I’m reaching a high. Or I’m slamming the accelerator. Or I’m at a claw machine and finally win a prize. That hum of euphoria, singing through your ears. He’s twisting his head on my belly like it’s a pillow. My thumb is still at the corner of his mouth. My heart is beating in my ears. There’s something clicking. A realisation.

I’m in love with Rob. I’ve always been in love with him.

“Look, I know this is a really bad time to say this,” Rob speaks. His words a gruff. I listen intently.

“What’s up?” I brush his hair out of his face. Curls between my fingers.

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Rob closes his eyes again. He breathes out. He looks for my other hand and places it on his chest, his hand resting just above it. I can feel his heart pounding like crazy. I never knew a human heart could move so quickly. I never knew that here, in this dimly lit room, after my heart has been torn into two separate pieces I’d be feeling Rob’s heart under my fingertips.

“Geez, Rob. Am I that scary?” I stroke his hair again, his fingers now grazing my knuckles.

“Yeah, terrifying.”

“Just tell me. What is it?”

“I love you.”

The whole room falls apart. My whole body feels like it’s been ripped into two then sewn back together. His eyes close again but he peeks a little with his left one just to gauge my reaction. I’ve stopped moving. My brain isn’t working.

“Christ. Really?” I whisper.

“Yes. I think of you every time I buy pizza, every time it’s Halloween, every time I’m drinking from a glass. Everywhere I go, you’re there. Whenever we went for coffee, I’d feel empty when you left. It just—even when you told me about this date. I was jealous at first. I want to take you on dates and fall in love with you even more.”

He sits up. He grabs onto both of my cheeks.

“I love you too,” I say before pulling him into a kiss.

#robert keating #bobby skeetz #inhaler band #inhaler fanfiction #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #robert keating fanfiction #bobby skeetz fanfiction #inhaler oneshot #inhaler imagine #inhaler oneshots #fanfiction

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hongrizoon · 11 days

Text

I chose you

I chose you - [ fluff ]

masterlist

-- summary: who could love a blind girl? no one could. blind people don't deserve love, at least that what they say. but what happens when your english teacher falls inlove with you? what happens if he would do anything, ANYTHING, to make her happy. to make her feel safe. Jeong Yunho, a 25 y/o english teacher at Prestige University met a sweet, innocent girl, but she was blind, considered an outcast. He fell inlove at first sight of course. And he will do anything to make her happy. Even if he has to lose his job for her.

-- genre: fluff, a bit of angst (i guess?)

-- word count: 500+

-- pairing: professor!yunho x blind!reader

content warnings: mention of insults (useless, burden, charity case..), protective yuyu <3, uh idk what else LOL

mars notes. if you find the name "Aria", thats one of my oc's i have paired with yunho! i tried changing the name to Y/N to like make it reader x yunho and stuff. but i got lazy in the end, ANYWAYS!! This has been in my drafts for a while, i decided to finish the last few things i was missing and correcting grammar-

The first time Jeong Yunho heard Y/N's voice, it wasn't in his classroom. It was in the bustling cafeteria, a melody weaving through the clatter of trays and hushed conversations. She was singing, a folk song filled with a yearning Yunho found strangely captivating. He spotted her tucked away in a corner booth, her head tilted back, eyes closed, fingers tracing a silent rhythm on the worn tabletop.

He learned later that Y/N was a student at Prestige University, a scholarship recipient ostracized for her blindness. Whispers followed her like a dark cloud – 'useless', 'burden', 'charity case'. Yunho felt a pang of anger, a fierce protectiveness for the girl whose voice held such depth of emotion. Then, he was assigned to be her academic advisor.

Their meetings were a revelation. Y/N's world wasn't one of darkness, but of vibrant descriptions. She spoke of feeling the texture of old books, the way sunlight warmed her skin, the symphony of city sounds. Yunho, captivated, found himself lingering long after their sessions ended, describing paintings, reading aloud with a newfound passion. He saw a strength in her resilience, a beauty in her laughter that echoed through the empty classroom.

One afternoon, discussing Keats, Y/N confessed a fear – that she'd never experience love. The cruelty in the whispers had seeped into her soul. Yunho, his heart clenching, blurted, "Who says you can't?" The words surprised even him.

Their relationship blossomed slowly, guided by hesitant touches and whispered secrets. Yunho described the world in detail, painting pictures with words. He took her on "nature walks," letting her feel the roughness of tree bark, the delicate petals of a flower. On one rainy afternoon, unable to bear her fear of the unknown, he held her hand, guiding her through the downpour, describing the scent of petrichor, the feeling of coolness on her skin.

Love, however, bloomed in a garden choked by societal weeds. Students snickered, faculty members cast disapproving glances. One parent, outraged by the thought of a "blind girl" corrupting their perfect son, lodged a formal complaint. The principal, a man more concerned with reputation than justice, called Yunho on the carpet.

"Mr. Jeong," he began, his voice laced with disapproval, "we appreciate your dedication, but perhaps a change is necessary." The implication was clear – resign, or be fired. Yunho stood tall. He wouldn't let them take away the only bit of sunshine in Y/N's world.

"With all due respect, sir," he said, his voice calm but firm, "my dedication goes beyond grades. Y/N is a brilliant student, and I will not abandon her because of prejudice."

The principal's eyes narrowed. "This is about more than just academics, Mr. Jeong. A teacher and a student...it's inappropriate."

Yunho took a deep breath. "Love knows no boundaries, sir. Y/N needs support, not dismissal."

The air crackled with tension. Finally, the principal slammed his fist on the desk. "Consider this your final warning, Mr. Jeong. One more misstep, and you're out."

Leaving the office, Yunho felt a cold dread gnaw at him. He might lose his job, his career, but he couldn't lose Y/N. He found her in the library, head bent over a book she couldn't read. Taking a deep breath, he sat beside her.

"They gave me an ultimatum," he confessed, bracing himself for the worst.

Y/N's hand met his. Her touch was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in his heart. "What did you say?"

He told her everything, the fear, the determination. When he finished, her silence hung heavy in the air. Yunho braced for rejection, but then a small smile bloomed on her face.

"I don't need the world to see me, Yunho," she said, her voice soft. "I have you, and that's all that matters. If we have to make our own world, we will."

That night, Yunho made a decision. He gathered his belongings – a few books, some recordings, and a walking stick. The next morning, he walked into the classroom, not as a teacher, but as a companion. He resigned, his voice steady, his gaze resolute.

The classroom erupted in gasps. The news spread like wildfire. But Yunho didn't care. He walked straight to the library, where Y/N sat, a flicker of worry in her eyes.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I chose you," he said, a smile gracing his lips. "We're going to paint our own world, Y/N. One where love isn't judged, and beauty isn't defined by sight

#hongrizoon #hongrizoon writes #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez yunho #ateez #lord have mercy yunho is such a sweetheart i will cry #i need a life #LMAO AGYHFAB 😭#Spotify

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sirenlulls · 10 months

Text

sweet → r. keating (b. skeetz)

pairing —robert keating x fem!reader social media au

summary —where your boyfriend loves annoying you online and people lose their minds

it's so sweet, knowing that you love me. though, we don't need to say it to each other

liked by evehewson, ryanmcmahon_15, and 20,917 others

bobbyskeetz some bassist twat. lake. an ispíní mor. a homeless woman and a cat. bláthana. and some very beautiful lads

yourusername the cat was cuter than you

bobbyskeetz who are you again?

yourusername your ex 🫶🫶

username my parents

yourusername guys don't be fooled by the hard guy act, he bought me the flowers 😁😁

bobbyskeetz i'm sorry but i can't support parasocial relationships. this has to stop.

username i need a relationship like theirs

username sorry mr skeetz but i want to marry that homeless woman

bobbyskeetz oh don't worry about it lad i'm gonna take one for the team. saving the general population and all that

ryanmcmahon_15 you're a very beautiful lad yourself

evehewson a very pretty homeless woman*

yourusername marry me.

liked by gracieabrams, lilamoss, and 1,106,723 others

yourusername dolce and gabbana. food. a smelly burglar. a tipsy gal. a bathtub of drunk gals. vogue. banger. bassist twat. delicious strawberry.

bobbyskeetz thanks for the breakdown, didn't know what i was looking at before

yourusername you are very slow 🫶

bobbyskeetz that bassist twat looks rather dashing

yourusername whatever you need to tell yourself girlie!

bobbyskeetz whoa who's that in the last slide

yourusername pretty sure you said she's a homeless woman?

bobbyskeetz .....a pretty one?

yourusername eve said it first 🥱

evehewson get in line xx

evehewson ur so cool and hip

yourusername ur so rad

maisiehpeters mother!!

username cornelia street supremacy

yourusername lover is such an overhated album

username REAL OMG

liked by lizzymcalpine, bellahadid, and 2,102,611 others

yourusername happy anniversary to the biggest bassist twat in the world, the bane of my existence, and the real reason that taylor swift wrote lover (she told me herself) glad it's you who kicks me off the bed every other night ❤️

username wait how long have they been together?

username 7 years

username WHAT.

devonleecarlson ur so perfect..... and he's there! jk, lots of love to u both ❤️❤️🫶🫶

bobbyskeetz jeez, props to me for hanging on this long

yourusername .......

bobbyskeetz love you ❤️

yourusername love you too 💞💞

yourusername omg he can be nice in public?! 😱😱😱

sirenlulls mother and father fr

whoetoshaw will never forget seeing them out of the gig last year

sirenlulls OMG WITH HER GIVING HIM THE FLOWERS I NEARLY FORGOT THAT WAS SO CUTE

whoetoshaw literally made me believe in love.

username she's a 10 but she calls you a bassist twat

bobbyskeetz still a 10 tbh

liked by graciebrns, shayrudolph, and 20,981 others

bobbyskeetz can't believe it's been 7 years and you're still too cool for me. 💔 happy anniversary to the most beautiful person i know. you're my favourite person to play bird bingo with, my forever hiking partner (no matter how much you might complain), the only person i ever want to boot off the bed in my sleep, my homeless woman. please never realise you could probably bag a model and just stick with your bassist twat instead ❤️

yourusername WHAT TJE FUCK

yourusername my post just seems like shit now

yourusername i actually hate you wtf

yourusername no i don't

yourusername you might be a bassist twat but trust you'll always be my favourite

bobbyskeetz nicest thing you've ever said to me

sirenlulls @whoetoshaw THE CAPTION?? GIRL THIS IS SOME FANFIC SHIT WTF

whoetoshaw babes im crying and it's not even for me what is going on 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username "MY homeless woman" "YOUR bassist twat" im actually going to jump in front of a train

username shutting up the bitches who says they're together for coult real fast

username no you don't understand you guys are so special to me

username they're my babies (they're 23 and im 16)

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mauvefayette6 · 8 months

Note

Hello !! First I hope you’re doing okay and you’re having a wonderful day ! I wanted know if it’s possible to request a oneshot with Neil Perry ! Like their first big argument and good old angst about him forgetting a date to go hang out with his friends or whatever you want 🤭!! but with happy ending because I love him way too much !! Thank youuu and have a wonderful day again !

Promises [ Neil Perry x fem!Reader ]

You waited, dressed and ready to go. Neil promised, he said he would be there by 9 pm so that you could make it to your reservation. It’s 10:30pm now with no sight of him. You decided to call his number again to see if he would answer.

The person you’re trying to reach isn’t available, to leave a voicemail wait for the beep. Beep…

“Hey Neil, it’s (Y/n) again. Just wondering when you’ll be back? Return my calls when you’re able to…” You whispered the last part before hanging up. You turned your phone off, your heart sinking as tears began to form in your eyes.

Neil wasn’t the type to just forget about you or a date or a commitment just in general. What if he was kidnapped? Mugged? Robbed? Shot? So many thoughts ran through your mind. You began to hyperventilate, you got up and began to pace around your apartments kitchen.

“Please answer,” you mumbled looking at your phone.

12am rolled around and you decided to call again. Maybe he was caught up at work and his boss was being an ass.

“Hello?” Finally, Neil answered.

“Hey, where have you been?” You mumbled. You felt your body relax at the sound of his voice.

“I’m hanging with Charlie. He thought it would be a great idea to come to the bar for a couple of drinks. Why?” He asked. The feeling of worry vanished and was replaced with disappointment and anger.

“Goodnight.” Was all you mustered up. You hung up and walked to your bedroom.

A bar? Drinks? Charlie Dalton? You weren’t mad about the date. It could have always been rescheduled. You weren’t the kind to stop Neil from hanging with his friends. But, to miss all your calls? To ignore you to drink with his friends? All he had to do was call you and ask to change the date! You didn’t care!

You undressed yourself and put on your nightgown. You took your make up off and did your face routine. You did it all with furry. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking. Tears in your eyes you laid in bed. You checked your phone to see no new messages. You scoffed and fell asleep.

The next morning rolled around as you began to get ready for work. For a brief moment you forgot about it. That’s until you received a phone call from him. You decided to ignore him. You didn’t want to start the day off on the wrong foot. You opened up your door and began walking to work.

The busy streets of Chicago gave you a peaceful vibe. People hated the noise of the city but you loved it. You were from a small town in Virginia and Chicago was such a different vibe from there. You clocked in and turned your phone off. You wanted no distractions, no messages, nothing.

You walked out of work and to your apartment. Walking from the elevator you saw Neil Perry holding a bouquet of roses. You scoffed and walked towards him.

“You weren’t picking up my calls so I decided to see you…” He said but you ignored him. You unlocked the door and slammed it in his face. He knocked on your door but you ignored it.

“Is everything okay?!” He shouted knocking on the door. You grumpily walked to the door and opened it. “I’m going to take that as a no…”

“Yeah Neil, I’m not very happy with you right now,” you scoffed not allowing him inside the apartment.

“What did I do?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Not only did you have me worried but you also ditched me to hang out with your friends,” you explained and the realization dawned on him.

“I thought I was missing something, I swear I’ll make it up to you,” he begged but you shook your head.

“It wasn’t about the date Neil, I don’t care about it. I care that I was here, crying and worried! I thought you were injured, I thought someone had mugged you and left you to die! Do you ever understand how scared I was? I left you hundreds of messages! A ‘I’m fine’ or a ‘I’m out with my friends’ would have been great! But no you decided to not answer me!” You shouted with tears in your eyes. Your voice was shaky, “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you had died Neil, but you didn’t have a care in the world!”

He stood there, his heart aching.

“I didn’t know… Charlie took my phone and I was out with my friends. You know I haven’t seen them in years.” He said attempting to defend himself.

“This is pointless Neil. I just, I just don’t want to see you right now. I’m angry and disappointed. Your lack of empathy is sickening right now. I want to be alone,” you said slamming the door in his face. You leaned on your door and began to sob. The feelings coming all at once like a wrecking ball. It was like he didn’t understand how it felt to be up all night waiting for someone to answer you.

You woke up the next morning. Luckily for you it was your day off. You laid in bed with your favorite candy and confort show on. Your phone was on your nightstand charging. You sobbed every few seconds. You hated arguing with Neil, growing up your parents were verbally abusive towards each other. Arguing and yelling was the thing you always tried to not do.

You heard a knock on the door. Maybe you could pretend not to be home.

“I know your home,” you heard from the other side. Neil. You sighed and got up. You walked to the door and opened it.

“Before you start talking hear me out, please.” He said and you sighed. “I realize how big of an asshole move that was. I didn’t want to worry you or ditch you or cause you any harm. I had a rough day at work and well I need to blow out some steam and Charlie offered to take me to a bar and grab some drinks while the guys were in town. I forgot about our plans and while I was going to check my phone Charlie took it out of my hands. I didn’t purposely ignore you and the second I got it back I answered you. It wasn’t my intention to ignore you and I will be having a chat with Charlie about not taking my phone. Please forgive me…” He stopped and looked at you. Tears were falling from your eyes as you brought him in for a hug.

“I don’t like arguing with you Neil. I was just so worried yesterday. My mind doesn’t work like everyone else’s. My mind doesn’t go to ‘he is probably still at work’ I instantly think you’re being murdered or something…” You cried, your face nuzzled on his neck as he hugged you tightly.

“I promise it will never ever happen again, I swear it.” He whispered not daring to let you go.

——

A/n: Hey!! I’m going to start doing all requests now just so I can get some stuff out! Requests are temporarily CLOSED!!

#dps #dead poets society #dead poets society scenarios #neil perry #charlie dalton #todd and neil #stephen meeks #before midnight #nuwanda #mr keating #neil perry x reader #neil perry one shots #angst #neil perry angst #neil perry x fem!reader

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iloveneilperry · 2 years

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This is so real

#neil perry #dead poets society #neil perry x reader #todd anderson #mr keating #nuwanda

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dearsnow · 4 months

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KNOW IT’S FOR THE BETTER

- what exactly ran through neil perry’s mind before he pulled the trigger. (neil perry x gn!reader although it’s definitely an emotion piece rather than an x reader, angst, ⚠️ dead poets society spoilers, canon-typical main character death, suicidal ideation, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUICIDE AND ITS THOUGHT PROCESS)

word count: 392

a/n - this is not proofread LMAO we die like men! and yes yes this is another music piece, based on waiting room by phoebe bridgers. yesterday was neil’s death anniversary, so this is a tribute to that. love y’all, and please read the message at the end.

Neil held cold metal in the palm of his hand, his fingers trembling over the shiny object. God, he thought, let them know it’s for the better.

Let Todd know that he never found another person that understood him as greatly and as openly as he did. Let him know that he is proud of him for changing so much in such little time. He doesn’t need him anymore, Neil thought. Now, he can fade away while someone else steps into the spotlight. It was always for the better.

Let Charlie know that he loved him because he could not always understand, and yet he tried. That they were kids together, and in a few months, Charlie will be older than Neil ever got to be. He deserves it. He deserves to be older, to be independent, to love freely and carelessly like he has always wanted. If Neil’s absence could push him forward and stop him from caring about how his friend felt, he knew it was for the better.

Let Mr. Keating know that his impact was far greater than he could ever imagine. His influence encouraged Neil to scale mountains. In the end, though, there is always a choice; to glide on wax wings or painstakingly climb back down. That, in death, he flew.

Let you know that he loved you. That he always loved you. That your whispered words were ichor to his ears, your touch a saccharine balm to the parts of him that ached the most. If he thought about it, he thought that in the entirety of his life, he would never find someone who made him shiver in the exact way that you did. He wants more than anything to tell you that everything he did is for you. You deserve better. Know it’s for the better, because the loss of him will surely open up your future to the same unearthly love that you brought to him.

Let his parents know that he will no longer be a problem.

Let the dead poets know that he is soaring.

Let everyone on the godforsaken planet he is leaving know that this is what happens when the sun’s heat caresses the skin on his back.

Let them know that everything is for the better.

Please, please know

if nothing else,

it is for the better.

[suicide is never for the better, and it should never be any option at all. if you are struggling with this thought process or any mental health issues, i strongly advise you seek professional help, but my inbox and messages are always open if you need friendly comfort. please come to me if you ever need it. i love you guys.]

#solar eclipse.#neil perry x reader #neil perry imagine #neil perry #dead poets society x reader #dead poets fandom #dead poets fanfic #dead poets society #angst #rip neil perry :(

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dreamwrites · 2 years

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“𝑺𝒉𝒆” — [𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒍 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚]

Summary: In which Mr. Keating's class must recreate a poem and the only young girl is so nervous that she doesn't notice the intense gaze of one of her classmates, Neil Perry.

Word Count: 1491

Warnings: none

Pairings: neil perry x female!reader

A/N: Sorry if there is more than one mistake, english is not my first language and I am still learning it. However, I hope you enjoy it and have a good time, thanks for reading! (:

One by one, the students of the class passed to the front of the room with their papers in hand, some kept the piece of paper hidden under their sweaty hands, others implored in whispers not to be called upon and a few simply didn't care and gave each other amused looks. Mr. Keating, the English teacher, had assigned the task of writing a poem and performing it in front of the entire class, with the sole intention that the desperate poet inside those young bodies would come out shouting his loud and barbaric "YAAAAP!" in triumph. A faithful follower of Uncle Whitman.

"Y/N! It's your turn!"

The young woman was perplexed and motionless in her seat as she was still engrossed in her brain trying with all her might, to give her own meaning to the earlier poem she had listened to so intently. So, when she heard her name, her creative bubble burst in the blink of an eye and she was forced back to reality. Her hands were just another pair of those that began to sweat as she tried, unsuccessfully, to dodge the gaze of her beloved professor. She was convinced that her name would be one of the last ones on the list, but it seemed that Mr. Keating's plans were very different from hers.

"Come on, come on, show these barbarians how it's done!"

Some of those present burst into loud laughter as Mr. Keating went in search of his only student and encouraged her to get up with a gentle pat on the back.

"If I were you I would not laugh so openly, Mr. Hopkins. Women are fundamental to this world and I can tell you, with all due respect, far more elemental than a lot of the men I have known and will know in my life." as he uttered those words, the English professor spoke with a raised finger and a warm smile, which caused his one female student to blush. She didn't know whether to thank him or hide in the woods.

"Amen!" admitted with a loud tapping against his desk the Dalton boy, he had a rebellious glare in his dark orbs and a sneaky smile in their direction. That act didn't take long to provoke new giggles, this time, in support of professor Keating's wise words.

The professor gave Y/N a gesture with his arm and invited her to take her place at the front of the class, where she remembered why she hated oral exams and expositions so much: a hundred eyes were watching her, silently, expectantly. The girl took a deep breath and hidden her face behind the thin sheet of paper to avoid the stares of others, especially one in particular. She closed her eyes still with the leaf covering her reddish cheeks and felt how her teacher crouched in the middle of the row of tables to listen delightedly to her poem, "when you are ready" was the last thing she heard from him. She gave a long sigh and then, magic made her soul dance:

She can't write these words and show them, the time it took her to put the tip of the pen to the page was too long. She thinks it's not worth it; that her words are ordinary and slow because they don't come out the right way, she thinks it's impossible that a living person would be interested in them.

She adores art in each of its disparate forms; writing, theater, music, she longs for the time she spends with them. Her face transforms and grows somber when she wonders why such a deed is popularly ignored, what does it take for much of the human race to stop being silenced? what does it take for beauty to have a new reconquest? For people to seek new lands and fall prey to the feeling of agony, of madness, of new inner adventures deep in the caves!

She weeps when she sees an instrument covered in dust, when she enters empty museums and the faces in oil paints look at her with sorrow and are grateful that even oblivion has not fallen upon them; her breath is shortened when she enters a theater and her gaze is lost with innocence on the stage, on the enigmatic sky. So much history, so many eyes and beating hearts that have passed through the same place with a story to hear and a confession to leave behind enclosed in that sky, embedded in the walls, witness on a stage full of sins.

Her sight blurs as she sees hundreds of books piled on the road in the rain, hundreds of tales and stories placed in garbage bags; her heart stops and her soul recites, prays and screams on the sidelines of the artists the world has taken from us, of minds that are nothing more than worm food. A world wary and controlled by a pain that it has created.

She cries out in memory of all who have visited hell and found solace in this, the art that is pure and sinister. She cries for all the stories and words that are being erased by that same rain that, as she looks, she feels guilt for considering beautiful; her tears are grateful for the gray clouds at the thought that there are still people who wander lost, those with the soul of an artist, called misunderstood. A strength that goes far beyond what demons and voices are capable of tolerating, a legacy that not even her own insecurities can leave behind, because it is the only thing she can do for humanity, the only thing that can save it.

She laments everyone who locks away the desperate desires of a hungry heart, hungry for more than the crumbs of silence and fear. She penetrates the dreams of others and rejoices those who sharpen their ears, stretch their arms towards those forbidden drawers and open them, even with their eyes tightly closed. She whispers: "don’t be afraid and see what you have made with your own hands, it is your legacy: the way in which you can be heard even when the years go by. Look at it, hold it between your fingers, it may be heavy or light, but it is your manuscript. The words you have never said, the verses you have never read, the fears you have never overcome, the ghosts you keep stumbling over, the urge to vomit when you are a second away from discovering the truth, your mother's smile, the scent of trees, of freshly cut grass, of old books… they are there. Everything is engraved there, written in scribbles you won't be able to understand, in letters that matured over the years, that's where all this I've recited comes from: a memory of what is new and what is old."

And in spite of everything, she keeps wondering if this leaf, the greatest oath of her life so far will be reduced to ashes and if its words will become yellowed pages. She keeps questioning herself, with tears and a bitter voice: what will last until the end?

Her heart was beating so fast and her breathing was ragged, she couldn't believe what she had just done. Her mind was in complete chaos… she had read one of her writings to an entire class, full of boys! She could feel her face and body burning with pure adrenaline, it was done. Dammit.

"God bless the women" Charlie Dalton's voice broke the ice, in a whisper.

"Fuck, Y/N" Knox hurried to say, completely beside himself. Shocked.

The entire class was staring at her, gawking and some with faces full of admiration, highest respect. None of them thought that the only young lady in the class was an intoxicated soul of art, letters, literature. Soon the applause and cheers quickly replaced the sepulchral silence, accompanied by several insults from their classmates who were still in complete awe; Charlie, Knox and Pitts were some of them, clapping and whistling with pure pride.

"Never forget this, Y/N. Never" spoke the Captain, gently grasping the back of his pupil's neck and pressing her temples together in triumph, a sign that she would take with her a powerful lesson: she would see to it that her voice would be heard in every corner and that she would never, ever be silent again.

Before she returned to her seat, however, her cheeks flared furtively again, and this time not because of the shouts or cheers that still did not want to leave the mouths of the Dead Poets, but because of the perplexed look that the young man with who she had always been in love was giving her. The verses had penetrated deep into the soul of Neil Perry, inexplicable sensations, all his feelings were alive, at the surface of his skin.

She…

Wow, he had no words. She was amazing.

— 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬.

#dead poets society #dead poets society headcanons #dps #dead poets fanfic #dps fandom #dps headcanons #dead poets society x reader #dps x you #dps x reader #dead poets society x you #neil perry #neil perry x reader #neil perry x you #neil perry headcanons #dark academia

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