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doomed-syko · 4 months

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Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader

summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago

word count: 3.5k

warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really

author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.

It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.

But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.

None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.

For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.

Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.

“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”

You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.

“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”

Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.

You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.

Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases

“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”

You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”

“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.

You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.

At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.

Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.

You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.

It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.

Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.

The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.

Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.

That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.

You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.

20:21

Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.

Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.

“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.

“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”

Oh.

“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”

Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.

“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?

“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.

“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”

There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.

“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”

“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”

He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.

“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”

“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.

You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.

“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”

You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.

You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”

Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.

“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”

“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”

You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”

The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.

You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.

In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.

You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.

With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.

And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.

You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.

“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.

“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”

“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”

You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.

“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.

“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”

She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.

“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”

“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”

The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.

“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.

You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.

“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”

“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”

The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.

“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.

Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.

You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.

“It’s a long story.”

note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx

taglist: (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!) @tractorbeamofwoe @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @vanmccannsfridge

#robert keating #robert keating imagine #robert keating oneshot #robert keating x reader #robert keating x reader imagine #robert keating x reader oneshot #inhaler #inhaler imagine #bobby skeetz #charlotte writes

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bobbyskeetzgf · 1 year

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pictures of bobby that are so rockstar bf

#bobby skeetz #robert keating #inhaler #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #rockstar bf #bobby skeetz imagine #robert keating imagine #inhaler imagine

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angelwonie · 11 months

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LET ME IN || elijah hewson

PAIRING: elijah x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

GENRE(S): fluff, a bit of angst, friends to lovers, hurt comfort

SUMMARY: when your best friend turns up at your front door unannounced, you decide to find out why he's acting so strangely. what you don't expect is for some repressed feelings to bubble up to the surface.

WARNINGS: smoking, mentions of drinking + being drunk, kissing, eli has daddy issues oops

this is it y'all i've gone insane... he looked at me once and this is what happens. @boobyskeetz made me post this btw

It’s far along in the evening when you come home to find Elijah Hewson sitting on your staircase with his head in his hands.

He’s slumped over, leather jacket around his shoulders and a slowly burning, unattended cigarette in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand. The sky is pitch black, the only source of light being an ancient lantern whose shine just barely reaches Elijah’s hair.

You’re shocked at the sight, to say the least, the heaviness of your grocery bags suddenly a faint background noise.

“Eli?” you move closer, albeit hesitantly, and your voice makes his head snap up.

When he looks at you, you fight back the urge to gasp. His eyes, half lidded, just barely glimmer in the faint light provided by the moon overhead, leaving room for his undereye bags to stand out. And they do stand out — so much that you almost don’t catch him stumbling over his feet ever so slightly as he walks over to where you’re standing.

Almost.

“Are you alright?”

It’s not a question, not really, but he winces either way. You stand close enough to see it, but immediately, his lips pull into a lopsided grin to hide his initial reaction.

“‘Course I am,” he takes a drag of his cigarette, and uses his other hand to take one of your grocery bags. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”

You nod, watching him drop the unfinished cigarette to the ground and step on it. You wonder how many he’s smoked today and consider asking, but decide against it upon realizing you probably don’t want to know. Instead, you let him take your grocery bags wordlessly, following him up the stairs.

It’s a short staircase, but you’re walking slowly – too slowly for your liking – and there’s a million questions burning on your tongue. You hold them back, mostly because you’re tired, but also because something in Elijah’s eyes tells you not to push.

He’s the one to speak first when you reach the right apartment. “Hey, your flowers are still alive.”

He’s referring to the roses he helped you pick out last month. It was a treat for yourself, for finishing all your assignments, and you had taken the whole ‘plant mom’ job pretty seriously, even putting the roses in a prettier vase and putting it on display outside of your apartment.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “They’re holding up really well.”

Elijah waits for you to unlock the door, then walks inside with you in tow. He wobbles a little as he drops down his shoes where he always puts them — where he’s put them ever since you told him three years ago it could be his spot.

You watch him shoulder off his jacket and start organizing the groceries in the fridge from afar, slowly taking off your outerwear. It’s warm inside, and your skin feels like it’s about to be set on fire after being out in the cold for so long. You think of Elijah sitting on your doorstep. How long was he waiting for you?

“Mind if I take a beer?” he cuts off your thoughts and you look up to find him with his hand on your fridge, an inquiring look on his face.

Now the lighting’s better, and you can clearly see his face. The creases between his brows, the focus in his gaze, the stubble that he’s let grow just a little longer than usually. Whether that’s a deliberate choice or simple forgetfulness, you’re not sure, but it worries you. His state worries you.

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe you should have said no, you think as he takes a sip of the drink and you’re reminded of the wobble in his walk. He’s probably had enough to drink already. To be fair, though, Elijah can be stubborn when he wants to, and something’s telling you today is one of those days.

When everything is either in the fridge or in a cupboard, you and Eli wander into the living room, shoulder to shoulder, without much to say. It’s messy, and he scolds you playfully for it — like he’s not the guy whose dorm you have to clean each time you come over.

You join his laughter though, and plop down on your couch a little more relaxed than before.

“How long did you wait for me?”

This time you manage to ask him the question, and he shrugs.

“A couple hours.”

He lifts the beer up to his lips and empties it, the can blocking out his view of you and your widened eyes.

What the hell is going on? His gaze tells you nothing. It’s so indifferent it makes you want to rip your hair out, because no matter how much he wants to pretend spontaneously coming over at three am is normal, it’s not. Especially when it comes to him.

Sure, if it were Robert, you would’ve figured it was just him acting on impulse, but it was never like that with Elijah.

“You could have just called,” you say finally, a slight quiver to your voice. “You should have just called. You know that, right?”

He meets your gaze, but not for long; after a second it drops down to his lap, like he’s embarrassed. You hold your breath, awaiting an answer. His fingers drum against the side of the couch, but then he changes his mind about that, too, and brings his hand to scratch the side of his face. God, what is he even doing? Trying to see how long it’ll take for you to snap and throw him out of the apartment?

Suddenly, he sighs deeply, dropping his hands in his lap. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You can’t help yourself from scoffing. That’s it? He ‘didn’t wanna bother you’? Maybe you would’ve believed it hadn’t he shown up unannounced at your front door in the middle of the night.

You almost open your mouth to say just that, but stop yourself when Elijah looks up again, and his bloodshot eyes meet yours. Something’s definitely not right. You can physically feel it, the tightening of your chest, the anger somehow pushed to the back of your head.

“Why are you here?” you ask him sternly, keeping your eyes on him. This time, he doesn’t look away.

“Do you want me to leave?”

It comes out meek, frail, as he almost chokes on his own words. You’re taken aback by the shiver in his voice, the drop of his shoulders. He places the beer can on your table and you swear his hands shake — just barely, but enough for you to see and for your heart to clench in response.

You shake your head. “No, I want to know why you’re here.”

He laughs humorlessly, leaning forward in his chair. His hands are definitely shaking, but you’re not sure whether it’s from the alcohol or something entirely different.

You know this face on him — he’s bothered by something, but doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always been like this, ever since you met him at school and watched his eyes glow with the same sadness after his teachers told him he should work on his grades. It was the same look on his face, the same millions of feelings threatening to bubble over the surface.

The only difference seems to be that now, he’s got no cap in his hands to close the bottle.

“I’m just tired, that’s all. Wanted to talk to you ‘cause the lads are too much noise.”

You frown and send him a look of disdain. Perhaps this isn’t something you should push on him, but seeing as he just magically appeared at your apartment while drunk, you do have a right to at least inquire what the fuck is going on.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you might as well leave.”

Silence follows your statement; silence so loud you almost regret saying anything at all. He grits his teeth, and you swear you can hear it from across the table — though that might just be your brain playing tricks on you this late in the evening.

“It’s my dad,” he mutters finally, scratching his stubble. “Not that that’s much of a surprise.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing new, really,” he exhales, closing his eyes briefly. “Just, you know, the usual ‘you’re wasting your life by not going to college’ talk. Total bullshit, as always. The only thing wasted is those twenty minutes of my life I spent listening to him talk about it.”

You breathe out slowly, fighting against the urge to look away from his gaze. He keeps it on you, unwavering, but you don’t know what to say. It’s dangerous territory, one you haven’t ever entered fully, and the worry of hurting him pangs at your chest; the legitimacy of his vulnerability scares you and moves you all the same.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“He’s just worried, you know. I would be, too.”

“Why?” his lip quivers and your heart sinks in your chest; so quickly it forces a sudden nausea upon you. “Because I’m not cut out for this?”

“No, Eli, that’s not what I–”

He cuts you off — not with his words, but with his hands gripping the arms of his chair to help him stand. It’s so abrupt your words die down in your throat, leaving a dryness behind. Hovering above you, he still looks small, like he’s fading into the light above; barely even present as Elijah but rather as some mass of feelings clumped together, ready to explode.

“Do really none of you think I can make this work?”

It’s the alcohol, you think, god, you shouldn’t have let him drink any more — how could you be so careless? But no, it’s not your carelessness or his, and you know that, even in this state of panic, it somehow reaches your mind — the revelation that this isn’t a random outburst.

It’s the fruit of a tree that’s been growing for a long time; the ripeness isn’t fake, even if you’re unprepared to pick it.

“Do you really think that?” he asks this quietly, his voice barely audible, but it feels like he’s tearing your skull apart with a scream.

Do you really think that? The very assumption, the very thought, disgusts you. The thought that you could ever believe he won’t make it — it’s so unnerving you let out a shaky breath.

A movement of your legs from underneath you and you’re standing. Your feet tap against the floor as you walk up to him slowly, like approaching a scared deer. He is scared, you realize. Your fingertips tingle with the longing to run your hands over his face, but you hold them back, instead answering his question.

“No.”

He blinks, and you say it again: “No,” and again and again, “No, no, no, no,” until it almost doesn’t feel like a word anymore and more like some sort of bandage wrapped around a bruised bone.

“Your dad doesn’t think that, either. He’s just worried because he cares. Because he loves you.”

He falls silent. “I’m not so sure.”

“About what?”

He doesn’t reply instantly. You look down on his hands, only to find that they’re still shaking, and take a couple steps forward. Elijah doesn’t notice, you think, or if he does, he doesn’t show any disdain for your closeness.

“About love,” he says finally. “Isn’t love supporting someone unconditionally? Rooting for them, no matter what? That description doesn’t really fit my dad.”

“I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

You suppress the smile that threatens to form on your face when he sends you a confused look, his nose scrunched.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you can support whoever you want without much difficulty,” you look at the floor, thinking of what to say next. “That doesn’t mean you love them. If you love someone, it means you’re willing to suffer through discomfort and pain to make them happy. You’re willing to spend your nights worrying if they’ve chosen the right path. You let them into your apartment at three am. That type of thing.”

Thirty seconds pass before you finally look back up, internally shivering at the way his stare bores into your soul.

“You…” he trails off, wincing like it’s painful. Uncharted territory, yet again — that much is obvious from how your heart bangs against your ribs. The silence in the room makes you worry if he might just be able to hear it.

You hear him inhale sharply, taking a step back so he can sit at the edge of your sofa. Following suit, you observe his eyes shining in the light, less red than before though still uncertain. His shoulder brushes against yours and you breathe in — he smells of alcohol, but it’s oddly comforting in the storm of your thoughts.

Elijah’s head turns to you.

“Have you… ever thought this is all for nothing? That I keep leaving the tour bus with more and more bruises for no reason at all?”

Your fingertips tingle again, and this time you do nothing to stop them from brushing over the back of his hand. It’s stupid, probably, but it feels right, his skin against yours. He’s warm, really warm, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, even when he leisurely drags his forefinger down the side of your hand. It tingles, but you don’t move away.

Elijah’s hand doesn’t shake anymore when you interlace your fingers together. Finally, you get the courage to speak.

“I’ve held your hair back while you were throwing up, Eli. Tied your shoelaces after a tiring show. Corrected your lyrics until four at night so you could send them to your manager before dawn. I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe you were on your way to the top from the first time I saw you,” you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you look directly at him. “I wouldn’t do any of that if I didn’t believe in you.”

It’s silent after that. For a long time. But his hand sits clammily in yours like a pearl in a clamshell, and you hold onto it for dear life, praying he won’t slip out from your grip.

“Promise me you won’t stop.”

Your head turns, startled by the sudden statement. His gaze scans you from head to toe, lingering on the curve of your lips, then your nose and finally your eyes, where it stops and plants its roots. You feel it spreading almost like wildfire, the warmth that comes with it. You almost tremble underneath it, squeezing his hand a little harder.

“Won’t stop what?” you whisper, eyes wide.

“Letting me into your apartment at three am.”

His gaze drops in a manner someone might’ve mistaken for lazy, but you know him well enough to recognize the vacillation in his eyes. You feel his fingers shiver in your embrace, every breath strained.

“Why not?”

You move closer, only by a centimeter or so, but he senses it — all the cells in his body seem to tingle with the paradox of wanting to touch and wanting to run all the same. Maybe it’s the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe rather it’s the arbitrary comfort that comes with it, that scares him to death, but whatever reason, he feels like he’s entering a deadly storm.

And perhaps it’s the alcohol and he’s not thinking straight, but this storm appears more inviting than any sunny day he’s ever witnessed.

He squeezes your hand tighter and leans down until his lips are impossibly close to brushing against your nose. You feel his hot breath on your face, sparks dancing across your skin to the smell of cigarettes and whiskey and beer, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

“Because I still haven’t gotten the chance to let you into mine.”

You smile — a real smile that you no longer manage to hold back. He mirrors the expression, albeit softly, lines appearing in the corners of his mouth. Let me in. Hues of colors appear in his eyes just as his shaky pointer finger grazes your jaw. Let me in. He cups your cheek gently, his lips parting in a breathless exhale.

Let me in, let me in, let me in.

He does. Just when the clock shows 3:47am and your shirt feels like it’s sticking to your skin, he finally closes the distance between you.

His lips brush over yours — it’s featherlight and careful, but you accept it all and kiss him back nonetheless. You can taste cigarettes on his tongue when he opens his mouth. Suddenly, the clock’s sound doesn’t reach your ears anymore, and all you can hear is the beating of your heart inside your throat. His finger strokes your cheek and his nose bumps into yours, but it’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You breathe in the scent of him, bringing your hands to tangle themselves in his hair in a moment of recklessness. Yeah, you’ve definitely gone absolutely crazy — but that’s a problem to solve later. For now, you’re kissing Elijah Hewson.

You’re kissing Elijah Hewson. It’s almost a revelation that dawns upon you like the waves of a tsunami, knocking the breath out of your lungs. It squeezes at your heart, a drawstring closing around it, and you have to pull away to breathe, to examine his face, puffy lips and tired eyes, to understand the gravity of your situation.

“We just kissed,” you say, and your voice shakes even though you strain to keep it calm.

“Yes,” he affirms, like it’s nothing. But it is something, and his eyes can't hide that. “We did.”

“But you’re drunk.”

“You think that’s why I did it?”

“I don’t know.”

He smiles and you swear your heart almost leaps out of your chest. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

He looks at you for a moment – your messy hair, reddened lips, the hesitation in your gaze – and makes his decision.

In less than a second, he drops down to his knees and you’re about to protest (because what does he think he’s doing?) until he grabs your hand and holds it between both of his. You furrow your eyebrows to hide the fact that you’re taken aback, though from the glint in Elijah’s eyes you figure you’re not doing a very good job at it.

He looks at you, like really looks at you, and you look at him the same. The fruit lies in the palm of your hand and squeezes to the beat of your heart when he speaks.

“I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he kisses your knuckles softly, and keeps them against his lips. “That’s why I kissed you, why I turned up to your apartment at three am, why I don’t regret it. Any of it. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Something pulls at the very back of your throat. You keep your mouth closed, but even that doesn’t stop a choked whimper from leaving you — a sound that makes Elijah’s lips quirk upwards. He smiles, and you attempt to do the same, yet all you manage is a half-laugh, half-sob that shakes though your body.

Embarrassed, you look down, and you can hear Eli chuckle before the warmth of his arms envelops you whole. He hugs you tightly against his chest, fingers coming up to stroke your hair as you partly laugh, partly cry into his shirt. And even though it should be humiliating, the act feels so powerfully comforting that you let him hold you.

“I love you too.”

You whisper this into his chest, breathing heavily. He pulls away and you look up, confused, but he smiles that gorgeous smile of his, with teeth on display and smile lines appearing, and cups your jaw. His eyes shimmer with undoubtable joy.

He doesn’t have to say anything. You know.

“That’s a fucking relief, huh?” he whisper-laughs and you join in on it.

“Yeah.”

And you smile.

He’s let you in, and you don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon.

#inhaler #elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler imagines #ryan mcmahon #robert keating #josh jenkinson

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killersfool · 6 months

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hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭

falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them

being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!

kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?

eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!

spending valentine’s day together!

something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?

softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!

telling each other how much they love them

them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer

hope these spark your writing :))))

Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON

here's a short little thing inspired by this request!

PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader

WORDS: 1.5k

SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNINGS: references to throwing up

I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.

I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.

I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.

Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.

I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.

I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.

Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.

I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.

Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.

I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.

He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.

"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.

"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.

"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.

Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.

"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.

"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.

"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.

He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.

"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.

Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.

His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.

I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.

Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.

"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.

There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.

Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.

#elijah hewson #elijah hewson oneshot #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson imagine #eli hewson #inhaler band #inhaler imagines #inhaler oneshots #inhaler dublin #fanfiction #inhaler fanfiction #robert keating #bobby skeetz #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #inhaler #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine

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msmoony7 · 5 months

Text

Dublin In Ecstasy

Summary: Y/N and her friend finally go on their long-awaited trip to Dublin. While in the local pub, she catches the attention of bassist Robert Keating.

Robert Keating x Reader Word Count: 6.2 K Content warning: NSFW!! Other than that, there should be none :)

masterlist

Today was that day that you had been looking forward to for many months. You and your best friend, Clara, had been planning a trip to Dublin as a graduation present for yourselves. The two of you graduated from NYU in May, and spent most of your years at school working various jobs in order to afford the trip. You spent months planning and doing research. Ultimately, the two of you decided to visit during New Years to experience wintertime in this new country.

The two of you shared an apartment in the Lower East Side that was pretty decently sized for the budget of two fresh college graduates. JFK was bound to be a shitshow around this time of year, so the two of you packed your things and were on your way to the airport in hopes of beating some of the chaos.

“I can’t believe this day is finally here,” Clara says as you guys begin walking out of your apartments with your luggage.

“I know. I really never thought this was gonna happen, I’m so excited,” You reply.

The two of you make it onto the street and hail a taxi to take you to the airport. The ride was about half an hour, which wasn’t too bad. The two of you checked your luggage, went through security and made your way to your terminal with around two hours left until you could board your flight.

After what felt like years of waiting, it was finally time to board the plane. You both quickly made your way to your seats.

“This all feels so real now,” You say to Clara as you two are getting settled into your seats.

“I know. I just hope this flight goes quickly.”

“I think it will. We waited years for this trip so this is gonna be a piece of cake.”

The flight attendants do their pre-flight spiel and you guys prepare for takeoff. Flights make you slightly nervous, so you’re happy that Clara is right next to you to calm your nerves. Before you know it, the plane begins to take off and you can see the city growing smaller and smaller in the night as the plane rises. Dinner is served and, of course, it’s bad. But the flight is long, so you eat some just so you have something in your stomach.

After dinner, the lights dim and you decide it’s best to get some sleep. You put on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a movie that you’ve seen thousands of times before, so you don’t mind falling asleep during it. You put on your eye mask and attempt to get some sleep.

You wake up and change the movie a few times throughout the night but finally, it’s morning and there’s about one hour till you land at Dublin Airport. The crew hands out breakfast, but you’re so nervous you can barely eat more than a crumb.

The plane finally lands and you and Clara can’t contain your smiles anymore.

“Holy shit we fucking made it,” she says to you as you begin to exit the plane.

“This is so surreal,” you say as the two of you stop and take a minute to take it all in as you wait for your bags. Finally, you spot your matching pink suitcases - courtesy of your parents as a graduation gift - and make way towards the taxis to take you to your hotel.

Because the two of you planned this so far in advance, you got a great deal on a two bedroom air bnb with a kitchen right in the Temple Bar area in the South bank of Central Dublin. When the two of you walk into the apartment, your jaws actually drop.

“Holy shit this is even better than the pictures,” Clara says as she drops the keys and her bags on the kitchen table.

“This is crazy. And to think this is cheaper than so many of the hotels here. We got so lucky.”

“I think I’m gonna shower quickly, then do you wanna grab lunch?”

“Yeah, I’ll shower too. I’m starving since I didn’t eat breakfast on the plane.”

Clara hops in the shower and that leaves you to explore the apartment further. You each get your own bedroom and you’ll share the bathroom in the hallway. Clara has already claimed the blue bedroom. It has a queen sized bed and guitars hung up on the wall as decor. You make your way to your room, which is painted green and has a bass hung up on the wall, also fit with a queen sized bed. In the living room, there's a small piano and all throughout the apartment there are pictures of famous European musicians. As a music lover, you appreciate these cute details.

Clara finishes her shower and you hop in. The hot water feels nice against your cool skin. It feels much colder here than back home. You make your shower quick, not wanting to waste what little time you have in Ireland. It was currently the 29th and you two planned to stay until January 5th, hoping that gave you enough time to explore what you could of Ireland.

You put on brown jeans, your favorite green sweater, white Adidas sambas, and your winter coat and quickly do your makeup before the two of you leave the apartment.

“I saw this place around the corner from here that looked cute, we should check that out for lunch,” you say to Clara while locking up the apartment.

“That sounds great, I’m starving.”

The small little cafe on the street corner offers a perfect introduction to Irish culture. The table near the window allows the both of you to people watch and absorb the Dublin fashion. You order a “Traditional Irish Breakfast,” which is made up of sausages, black and white pudding, bacon, eggs, and grilled tomatoes, while Clara got a “Dublin Coddle,” which was a dish with sausages, bacon, and potatoes cooked in a broth. You ate the majority of your meal, but weren’t a fan of the pudding. The two of you left and made your way down the street to visit all the shops down the road.

The first shop you went into was an adorable bookstore. It was small, but cozy, and you felt welcome there by the shop owner.

“What brings you ladies in today?” the short old lady asks you two.

“Oh, just looking. It’s our first day here so we’re walking around to get an idea of the area,” Clara says to her.

“Oh, that’s lovely! You two will have so much fun here, Dublin is a great city.”

“Yeah, we love it so far! Do you have any recommendations on what we should do?”

“Oh, The Temple Bar is a classic. It’s big amongst music lovers and young kids, so you’ll have a blast there. They’re doing some shows these next few nights and a huge party on New Years. If you have nothing planned, I’d recommend spending your New Years there.”

“That sounds awesome, thank you so much! It was so nice meeting you.”

The two of you mutter a final thank you and make your way out of the bookstore.

As you pass The Temple Bar, Clara asks, “What do you think of going here for dinner tonight to see what all the hype is about.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. It looked so cute when we walked by it before. I’m not too sure about New Years, though. If it’s as crazy as she says it is, I don’t even know if we’d get in.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We definitely need to go at some point though.”

Even though it’s just a few hours past noon, it looks as lively as ever. The outside is decorated with Christmas lights that are sure to be beautiful at nighttime. You two make note of the bar and continue on with the shops on the street. You go into candle shops, record stores, guitar shops, and even shoe stores to pass time. You make small talk with all the owners, who love to hear about your journey; The Irish were so nice.

It’s around four o’clock when you two finish your shopping. You bought a shot glass, a journal, and a few magnets for your family. You made a point to buy a new shot glass in every new city you visit and even though your collection is growing slightly out of hand, it continues to grow regardless. Clara got a few magnets and a shirt.

“I’m lowkey tired as hell. How about we go to the bar tomorrow night instead?”

“I was thinking the same thing. I’m sure it’ll be just as fun. We could cook dinner in the apartment tonight, I saw a grocery store a few blocks up from the place,” you reply.

The two of you make it to the grocery store and stock up on some food for the next week or so. For tonight, you two would make some pasta with garlic bread. You also grabbed some cereal, milk, eggs, bread, and cookies for the rest of the trip.

By 8 o’clock you two are finished with dinner and getting ready for bed. You get snug under your covers and set your alarm for the next morning.

—

You wake up around 9 and get ready for the day. Your routine is simple, so it doesn’t take you too long to get ready. Your everyday makeup takes you around 10 minutes to do and you quickly pick out an outfit: your black Converse, blue jeans, your favorite crewneck, which was of your favorite band, The Strokes, and your jacket on top. The two of you are out the door by 10:30 and head to another restaurant for brunch.

The two of you opted to share your meals today. You got a coffee while Clara got a tea, and you shared a cheese platter and some Irish soda bread french toast. After brunch, you two explored the area some more. You did some touristy things to kill time before you went to the bar. You visited local churches, bridges that went over the river that flows through Dublin, and some museums and art galleries in the Temple Bar area.

Around 5 o’clock, you guys got dinner at a nearby restaurant before going to Temple Bar for after dinner drinks. The line is long, but eventually you make it inside. The temperature difference was crazy compared to the outside due to how many people were inside. You hear a band playing some song that you don’t recognize and you begin making your way through the bar to find a place to sit. Luckily, you guys snag a pretty big booth and have a great view of the stage where the band is playing. Clara leaves quickly to grab you guys a drink.

You look at the four guys on the stage and are immediately infatuated by the bassist. His beauty is stunning. He has curly brown hair that is beginning to grow into a mullet, with crystal blue eyes, and oh is he tall. His bass was hung extremely low leaving you wondering how that can even be comfortable. He has black jeans on with Dr. Martens and a black button up shirt that looked like it had mermaids on it. The shirt is kind of ugly, but somehow, he makes it work.

“Earth to y/n,” Clara snapped in your face.

“What was that for?”

“I only called your name about five times already, I’ve been back with the drinks for a minute. You’re drooling over that guy, I can tell. He’s cute, but I like the singer. He kinda looks like Bono.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“To me, yeah. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she laughs as she gives you a shoulder nudge. She sits across from you and the two of you take some pictures for your instagram because duh, when in Dublin, and begin drinking your Guinness.

“This actually tastes like shit,” you say as you wipe your mouth on a napkin.

“Yeah this is disgusting, I should’ve stuck with vodka.”

“Oh hey, it looks like they’re starting another song.”

The singer steps up to the mic and begins speaking. “Hey everyone, once again we’re Inhaler. I’m Eli, this is Ryan on the drums, Josh on Guitar, and Bobby on the bass. Thanks for coming out tonight. This last song is one of our own songs. It’s called It Won’t Always Be Like This. It’s not out right now, but keep an eye out this upcoming year. Hope you enjoy.”

The lights dim slightly and Ryan and Bobby start the song, followed shortly by Josh on guitar and then Eli comes in and starts singing. There’s a surprising amount of people singing along in the crowd, so you assume they must be popular here in Ireland.

“He has a pretty good voice,” you say.

“Yeah, they actually don’t seem half bad.”

You look them up on instagram to see that they have less than 40k followers. Josh and Eli are both private, and Ryan and Bobby each have less than 10k.

“Clara, check this out. They’re actually attainable.”

“Oh shit they’re pretty small. You’re right, maybe we actually do have a chance. Wow, we really are delusional.”

You chuckle then sigh, put away your phone, and continue listening to them play, not taking your eyes off Bobby. You catch him looking at you and you swear that he gives a slight smile before looking back at his bass.

“Y/N did Bobby just smile at you?” Clara says with a look of pure shock on her face.

“Okay so I wasn’t just imagining that. That actually happened?”

“I mean it’s hard to tell but I looked like this. Fuck, are our delusions finally coming true?”

“Oh, man. I hope so.”

The band finishes off strong and they get a large round of applause as they walk off the small stage. You can see the band putting away their instruments and they begin making their way over to the bar, scarily close to where you guys are sitting.

“Y/N I think they’re staring at us.”

You try to look at them without drawing their attention, but you fail and you make eye contact with three of the four members. All of the sudden, the band makes their way towards you and before you know it, the four of them are standing right in front of you.

“Hey, I’m Eli. Haven’t seen you guys ‘round here before,” the singer says to the two of you without breaking eye contact with your friend.

“Hi, I’m Clara and this is Y/N-”

“Ooo, you two are American,” Eli says before Clara can even finish her sentence.

“Yup. We’re here visiting for a week or so. Just got here yesterday.”

“What do you guys think of Dublin so far?” The drummer interjects.

“It’s great. The people are all so nice. Not a fan of Guinness, though,” Clara says and is immediately faced with a look from the boys.

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” Eli says, “It’s big here but not many foreigners like it, especially the girls. Can I buy you guys a drink?”

Internally, you’re trying not to freak out. You can’t believe your luck.

Clara speaks for you, “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ll have a vodka cranberry and she’ll have a rum and coke.”

“Coming right up,” he responds as he walks away towards the bar.

“Can we have a seat?” The drummer asks, but not really asking because they all sat down anyways, not that you would have said no. To your luck Bobby sat next to you, with Josh on his other side, and Ryan across the booth next to your friend with an open spot for Eli.

“So, what’d you think of the show?” Bobby asks, mainly to you, “I didn’t get your name, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say shyly. Normally, you were more outgoing. But in a situation like this, you felt yourself reverting to your younger self and couldn’t help but become introverted. “It was really good. We only popped in for the last song, but I liked it. The bass line was killer.”

“Awesome. Glad you liked it,” he said with a smile that left butterflies in your stomach.

Eli finally came back with your drinks, along with a round of Guinness for the boys. You make quick eye contact with your friend, noting that Eli chose to sit next to her instead of Ryan.

You’re secretly grateful Eli saved you from the conversation. Bobby made you nervous, and you needed some more alcohol in you in order to continue this conversation. You two thanked Eli for the drinks, and you anxiously began sipping it.

“Woah, eager there are we,” Bobby teased you as you each started drinking your drinks.

You blush in response, and hope that he can’t see the rose tint on your cheeks in the bar lighting.

“So what brings you guys to Dublin?” Josh chimes in.

“Oh, this was Y/N’s idea. We’ve been planning it for years. We graduated college in May and this was our Christmas/graduation gift to ourselves.”

“Congratulations, this is an awesome way to celebrate,” Josh replies, “What else is on your itinerary??”

“Honestly, not much. We’re here till the 5th so we definitely have plenty of time to explore. This little lady in a bookshop told us to come here and said we should come for the New Years party tomorrow but I can’t imagine how hard it would be to get in considering how long it took us to get in tonight.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem at all. We’re playing again tomorrow. We can get you two on the guest list, we’d love to see you again,” Eli says with a smile and a wink.

“Really? That’d be great! Maybe you guys could show us around too,” Clara replies without missing a beat.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eli says smoothly.

“How about another round?” Bobby offered and you all nod your heads yes, “Y/N, come with me to bring them over?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply back. The two of you get up to the bar and Bobby orders drinks for everyone. You can slowly feel the alcohol hitting you and are becoming more confident as the minutes go by.

“I saw you smirk at me onstage,” You blurt out without thinking.

“I love The Strokes,” Bobby says back to you.

“You smirked at me because you like The Strokes?”

“The Strokes, among other things,” he says with a smile, moving slightly closer to you. “You caught my eye in the crowd. I can tell your friend caught Eli’s,” he says with a chuckle that makes you turn around to see Eli practically all over her. You turn your attention back to Bobby; You didn’t realize how blue his eyes are. Any confidence you just gained went out the window after making eye contact with the boy again. By the grace of God, the drinks are ready and it’s time to go back to the table.

The two of you settle back into your seats and join in the conversation, which turns out to be a heated argument between Ryan and Clara about which band was better, The Beatles or Queen.

The night goes on, more rounds are bought, and you all grow more tipsy. You can feel Bobby’s gaze on you throughout the night. At one point, he even rests his hand on your thigh. You’re all deep in conversation that you don’t even notice the music ending and the workers who are beginning to clean up the bar.

“Sorry, lads,” the bartender says to your table, “Closing up for the night. Be sure to come back tomorrow for an even bigger celebration.”

Eli and Clara are preoccupied with each other and they get up from the table first. Next is Josh and Ryan. Finally, you get up from the table with a slight stumble and are steadied by Bobby’s hand on your back.

“Easy there,” he says with a chuckle, “Here, hold onto my arm.” You give him a little smile and mutter a “thanks” and the six of you begin to walk out of the bar.

“Where’re you guys staying?” Ryan asks.

“An apartment a few blocks down,” you reply while slurring your words. You didn’t remember getting this drunk, and you’re glad that you have Bobby to hold onto.

“We’ll walk you back. Think you can guide us there?” Bobby says.

“Uhhhh, I think it’s this way,” you point in one direction, while your friend is pointing in the opposite.

“Do you have the address saved?”

“Yeah, here,” you reply as you hand Bobby your phone.

“You were right, it’s that way. C’mon, let’s get you two home.”

The six of you walk back in the quiet of the night. Eli and Clara are giggling to themselves in the back. Ryan and Josh are in the front leading the way. Bobby’s next to you, still letting you hold onto him to steady yourself. ‘

“How was your first night at an Irish pub?”

“Fun,” you say looking up at him, “your lips are really pink,” you mutter to him, which causes him to chuckle.

“You’re funny,” he says to you.

“Thanks.”

“Looks like we’re here,” you hear Josh say from in front of you. You look up and realize you are, in fact, in front of the apartment. The walk was quicker than you thought. Your friend grabs the keys and Eli opens the door for the two of you. The two of them mutter a goodbye as he gives her a kiss on the cheek. Ryan and Josh say their goodbyes, and that just leaves you and Bobby.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, right?” he starts off.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say with a smile.

“Good. I’ll keep an eye out for you in the crowd. Goodnight,” he says with a wink. And with that the four boys are on their way home, which leaves you and Clara alone at last.

“What the fuck just happened Y/N?” Clara practically yells at you.

“I have no idea,” you yell back at her.

“Oh I knew our delusions would pay off one day. Rockstar girlfriend here we come.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

The two of you crash down onto the couch to chat some more about the night. All the things Eli said to her and Bobby said to you.

“You know how I said Eli looks like Bono? Turns out that’s his dad!” Clara shouts at you while laughing and staring at the ceiling.

“What?! No way! Oh my god are you sure we’re not dreaming.”

Eventually, sleepiness comes over the two of you and you retire to your bedrooms. You manage to get into your pajamas and get yourself ready for bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

—

You wake up to the sun shining through your curtains and groan at the brightness. Surprisingly, you don’t feel too hungover, just hungry. The first thing you do is check your phone, and you are met with a text from an unknown number.

You open it and it reads, Hey, last night was fun. Excited to see you again x.

Your jaw practically hits the floor when you read it. You realize Bobby must’ve gotten your number from when you gave him the directions last night, but it still feels crazy to you. This stuff only happens in the movies.

“Oh my god, Clara. Check this out,” you say as you run into her room. She reads it with hungover eyes but as she processes what it is, she wakes up and yells in excitement.

“Oh my god, tonight is gonna be the best night of our lives,” she screams so loud she probably woke the neighbors. You send him a quick reply and get ready for the afternoon.

You eat a late lunch at a local restaurant and then walk around the area for a little bit to get some fresh air. After, you two go back to the apartment to start getting ready for the night ahead of you. You decided to make some more pasta for dinner to save some money. After dinner, it was time to start picking your outfits. Since it was new years, the two of you wanted to dress nicer than you had the previous days. Clara decided on a slinky silver dress that ended on her mid-thigh with black boots and a black jean jacket. You decide on a black velvet spaghetti strap dress that has lace around the bra line and bottom and is tight in just the right places, your Dr. Martens, and a black leather jacket. The two of you did your hair and makeup, and began pre-gaming. The two of you decided this night was gonna be crazy, and you wanted to be a little tipsy when you got in there.

After a few drinks, you guys decided it was time to walk over to the pub. You get to the pub and see a long line, but then you remember that the boys got you on a guest list. Clara leads the way and walks the two of you up to the bouncer at the front of the line.

“Hello, we’re on the list. Clara and Y/N,” she says confidently as the bouncer scans the list. He gets to your names, crosses them off, and lifts the rope to let the two of you in. You’re faced with stares and angry faces, but the two of you don’t have a care in the world. Everything is going your way. You say a quick thank you and walk into the pub.

Although it’s still a couple hours till midnight, it’s already packed to the brim. You squeeze through the crowd and order two vodka cranberries at the bar to keep you guys at the pleasant level of tipsy you were at while you waited till the boys were done performing. There were no seats left, so you pushed through to the front of the crowd to get a good view of their performance. You try to look for the boys, but don’t see them anywhere. After about 15 minutes, the music stops and the boys make their way onstage as the crowd erupts in applause. The two of you start cheering for them as well, drawing their attention. Eli gives you a smile and then sees Clara, looking her up and down before giving her a wink and then turning to the crowd. As Eli’s introducing the band and their first song, Bobby’s staring you down with a serious face. He adjusts his bass to be positioned lower on his body, which you can only hope that it means your outfit is doing what you intended it to do.

“Oh, they just totally checked us out,” Clara says to you, without breaking eye contact with Eli, “I’m so excited for tonight.”

The boys play numerous songs and you and Clara are dancing together and with other people in the crowd while they play. They play some of their own songs, as well as some covers. The covers were a hit and the entire crowd was singing along. Throughout their entire set, you could feel Bobby’s eyes on you. He’s wearing black jeans, Dr. Martens, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Eli introduced their last song, and it felt like it was just Bobby and you in the room with the way that you two were staring at each other. After what felt like forever, they were finally finished with their set, and there was about an hour till midnight.

The boys head offstage to put away their instruments, and you and Clara rush over to them. It’s almost like they can feel you approaching. Before you can even speak and make your presence known, Bobby turns around to you.

“Hi,” you say shyly.

“Hi. You look fantastic tonight,” he says while looking you up and down again once more while smirking, making you blush.

“Shall we get our first round?” Eli shouts over the music that replaced Inhaler’s absence. Eli and Clara make their way to the bar while the rest of you find a spot in the corner to claim.

“What’d you think of the set?” Bobby asks you.

“Even better than last night’s.”

“Glad you liked it. I was a little distracted on stage though,” he says cheekily.

“Oh, were you? I didn’t notice,” you say with a smile.

“Mhm. That dress looks really good on you.”

“Thanks, I thought so too.”

Eli and Clara come back with the drinks and the group forms a new conversation. Thanks to your and Clara’s pregame, you’re at a great level of drunkenness for tonight. By now, there’s 15 minutes until midnight. You feel Bobby sticking closer to you as the night goes on. Everytime he laughs, he looks at you. His arm is glued around your shoulder.

“Five minutes until midnight! Let's get out there!” She shouts while dragging Eli into the crowd.

“You heard her, let’s go,” you say to Bobby as you drag him there as well. You lost Clara and Eli, along with Josh and Ryan. But it was okay since you had Bobby there and that was really all you needed.

The closer it got to midnight, the crazier the energy got in the pub. At about a minute to midnight, the energy was through the roof as you all waited to start counting. There was a big clock counting down the seconds, so you were sure not to miss the clock striking midnight. You were pressed tight against Bobby’s chest, only now realizing how tall he was.

Twenty seconds to midnight. Everyone started yelling, including you and Bobby. Even though the two of you were already squeezed against each other, you somehow were able to move closer together.

Ten Seconds. Time seemed to slow down and it felt like an eternity till midnight.

Five. You look Bobby in the eyes, down to his lips, and then his eyes again.

Four. He grabs your dress by your wait and pulls you even closer.

Three. You put your arms around his neck.

Two. He moves one hand up to grab your chin and point your head up to him.

One. The crowd is full of cheers, but it feels like the two of you are the only people in the room. The clock finally hits midnight and Bobby pulls your lips to his. The kiss was slow at first. He pulls away for a second before going back in with more force. He moans into your mouth which causes you to giggle against his lips. He pulls away and you see pure lust in his eyes. You stand on your toes so that you’re able to whisper in his ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say while moving your lips down his, leaving a few kisses before leaving a playful bite. He moans, grabs your arm, and drags you out of the pub while you gladly follow.

“Your place is closer than mine, could we go there?” Bobby says, already leading you in that direction.

“Yeah, let me just send Clara a text.”

You check your phone to see Clara has already sent you one.

Went back to Eli’s place. Have fun with Bobby ;)

“Already taken care of,” you say to Bobby while chuckling.

While the air was cold, Bobby’s hand was warm inside yours. At one point he pulls you to the side and presses you against an alley wall, kissing you on the lips. He kisses your neck and his breath is warm against your cold skin. He runs his hands up and down your body and you can feel yourself craving his touch.

After what feels like an eternity, you make it back to the apartment. You grab your key from your purse and unlock the door. As soon as you shut the door behind you, Bobby has you pressed up against it. You gasp, but are quickly shushed as you’re met with Bobby’s lips on yours. His hands are roaming up and down your body and you can feel yourself needing more. You palm his dick through his jeans, which earns a groan from him. You start walking forward, pushing Bobby to walk back towards your bedroom.

He opens the door to your room and you push him back until he lands on the edge of the bed and you’re able to straddle his lap. You take off his jacket while he helps you take off yours. You continue kissing his soft lips and eventually make your way back to his neck, kissing a sweet spot by his jaw causing him to let out a moan. You can feel his cock growing in his pants, so you start grinding your hips against his as you begin removing his shirt. His lips start to travel to your neck and your hands are in his curly hair.

You hop off of his lap, get down on your knees in front of him, and start unbuckling his belt. You get his belt off and he bucks up his hips to help you take down his jeans and his boxers. You slowly trail kisses up from his base to his tip.

“Quit teasing,” he says to you as he begins to gather your hair into one hand and uses the other to guide your head from behind.

You slide your tongue to his tip and slowly run a circle around with your tongue before slipping him into your mouth, earning a groan from him.

“Mhm, that’s a good girl,” he says encouragingly to you. You bring your hands into your work, which only excites Bobby more.

You can tell Bobby is close due to the speedy nature of his breathing.

“Come up here, I don’t want to finish just yet. Though you do a damn good job.” He asserts while letting go of your hair and pulling you up to his face again. “Let’s take this off, yeah?” he whispers in your ear.

He helps you take off your dress to reveal your black lace bra and matching panties. Your lips crash against each other again as he pulls you on top of him onto the bed. You climb off of him, allowing him to take the more dominant position above you. He starts kissing your chest, and your hands are moving up and down his toned arms. He unhooks your bra and when he takes it off, he looks like a kid in a candy store. He looks up at you and you give him a little nod of encouragement. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around, and the other nipple is squeezed between two of his fingers.

After a few minutes of this, he starts continuing down your body. He makes his way down to your panties and his breath against your skin causes you to shiver. He pulls them down your legs slowly, teasing you.

“You’re so wet,” he teases, “all for me?” and without a warning, he dives his mouth into your vagina which causes you to gasp in surprise and pleasure. You grab onto his hair to encourage him to keep doing what he’s doing.

“Mmm, you like that?” he says while stopping for a second to look at you.

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop.”

He continues working on your clit and he eventually introduces his fingers. One finger causes you to gasp, two makes you cry out his name, and three is close to sending you overboard. Just as you’re about to reach your climax, Bobby pulls away. You look down at him confused, but you’re met with the sight of him pulling out a condom.

“You alright with this?” he asks as he slips on the condom.

“Please, wanna feel you inside me,” you reply.

He meets your lips again one more time before sliding himself inside you.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you say.

“Love, I’m not even all the way in yet,” he chuckles while you gasp. “Jesus, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

With every thrust he puts more and more of himself inside you. The initial pain is quickly taken over by pleasure. You’re grabbing onto his biceps and are slowly coming undone. Tears are brimming in your eyes from the immense pleasure; Bobby wipes them away with his thumb and gives you kisses of encouragement. His chain is dangling over his face, swinging back and forth with each thrust.

“Harder, I’m so close,” you say as you feel your climax approaching.

“Mmm, me too,” he grunts.

He begins playing with your clit, which brings you to your breaking point.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum,” you say.

“Oh fuck yes, cum with me baby.”

His thrusts become sloppy as the two of you reach your climaxes together. He falls down on top of you as you both are catching your breath.

“Fuck. That was amazing. You’re amazing,” he says while giving a kiss to your forehead.

“Mhm, you’re not too bad yourself,” you reply.

Bobby helps you into his t-shirt and you get up to use the bathroom. You come back to Bobby in his boxers underneath the covers with them drawn enough for you to get in next to him. You hop into the bed and he pulls you close, giving you a kiss on the cheek before the two of you fall asleep.

You wake up in the morning just where you left off the night before: in Bobby’s arms. The sun is shining through the window hitting Bobby’s face beautifully. You can’t help but stare at how peaceful he looks while sleeping. Last night was the start of something exciting, and you can’t wait to see where this takes you.

#inhaler #inhalerdublin #inhaler dublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler band #robert keating #bobby skeetz x reader #bobby skeetz #robert keating x reader #bobbyskeetz #robert keating fluff #bobby skeetz imagine

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dublinskeetz · 4 months

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could you maybe do a fic (don’t worry if you can’t 🫶🏼) with eli or bobby maybe enemies to lovers and the person is the band’s photographer or is on keys 🤍🤍

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞

hii ofc, i wasnt sure if u wanted a smau or written soo i sort of did both since the reader is their photographer, hope u like it!! this is my first tumblr fic so im still getting used to how to work the app lollll, sorry if u don't like it but pls give me ur thoughts so i can learn to improve JAJA

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺'𝘴 #1 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 — 𝘣𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘻 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

yourusername

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername dropping these flicks in honor of my fav boys (and bobby ig) letting me join them on tour to take cute pics of them 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

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joshjenkinson_ WOOO after months of begging

yourusername a little begging doesnt hurt when i have to spend months with devils spawn joshjenkinson_ bobby loves u dw bobbyskeetz why do you automatically think shes talking about me bobbyskeetz and i do not

bobbyskeetz so thrilled to have you.

inhalerfan1 wtf why is she always hating on bobby he does nothing wrong to her!!! how about you leave and like never speak to him again.🙄🙄

inhalerfan2 saying this doesnt make bobby want u any more! bobbyskeetz how about you leave her alone? ryanmcmahon_15 aw look at u protecting her

elijahhewson the crowd erupts in cheers

yourusername by crowd u mean u, josh, and ryan LMAFO elijahhewson and bobby he just wont admit it

inhalerfan300 something abt the boys getting their pics taken by a sexy woman makes them even sexier tbh

liked by elijahhewson, ryanmcmahon_15 and 30 others

inhalerfan11 fuc the guys I WANT U

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"say, cheese!"

your lens shuttering was heard throughout the tour bus, trying to take candid, but not candid at the same time, pictures of the boys. tour was great, amazing even. you felt at peace when taking pictures of the band in their natural element. whether it be on stage, at a pub, or even just at time when it was just one on one hangouts. except, for bobby

bobby skeetz, you didn't know what you had done to make the boy dislike you from the moment he laid eyes on you. maybe it was your personality, the possibility to get on with everyone around you, happiness radiating off of you. or perhaps it was one night stand you had with him 4 years ago. but you chose to pick the former as the reason.

it didn't matter what you tried, his anger, regret, or whatever he felt never seemed to ease.

despite telling them to smile, bobby still had a grim look on his face, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but in front of you. rolling your eyes, you lowered your camera, dismissing the guys from the lens.

as the boys one by one retreated to their own areas, bobby stuck sitting in front of you as you placed your equipment away. you could feel his eyes watching you as you worked, and you found he often did this. though you could never force yourself to look back up at him, knowing his eyes would probably be full of dislike.

"is there something you need robert," you asked him, getting closer and closer to being fed up with his acts.

"no, just thinking."

"of?"

"why we would need another photographer when we already had lewis."

rolling you eyes, why do i even bother, thinking to yourself.

hiding behind a door was josh, ryan, and eli, silently watching the two of you interact. "i bet you they get together by the end of the tour," ryan spoke.

"oh you are so on McMahhon."

"dunno, maybe you should ask your mates. you didn't seem to complain too much when they asked me, repeatedly," you argued.

there was a thick tension in the air, these petty fights between the two of you were normal at this point, and despite your attempts to be professional, his pettiness was starting to get to you.

in reality, you didn't mind bobby at all, in fact, you felt a pull towards him. but ever since that mistake, that for some reason he can't seem to forget, he has made his presence unbareable.

"why must you make everything so difficult," you sighed, frustration evident in your tone as you continued to pack away your equipment.

"i'm not the one making things difficult, thats your speciality, isn't it," he snapped back. there was a mix of annoyance and indifference in his expression as he starred at you. "or maybe its the fact that you love to pretend nothing happened."

"what the hell are you talking about," you spoke, your patience so close to breaking.

bobby scoffed, "oh please, you know exactly what i'm talking about. four years ago when you left me!"

there was a heavy silence between the two of you, could he seriously be holding onto the past for that long? was this really the reason why he hated you so much? you can admit, you have your regrets on the way those things played out, but what were you supposed to do? act like sleeping with him didn't hurt you in ways you didn't even know you could hurt? the way he easily uttered those words to you, this doesn't mean anything, does it? it pained you, so really, what were you supposed to do?

but you were never really good with your emotions, so frustration bubbled inside you, "fine, you want to hold onto the past? go ahead, keating. but don't act like i'm the only one at fault here."

your heated exchange echoed throughout the bus, leaving an uncomfortable silence. but meanwhile, the other three boys exchanged knowing looks.

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yourusername

liked by elijahhewson and others

yourusername tours almost ova so heres some flicks to prepare u for the drought

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elijahhewson pay up ryan

ryanmcmahon_15 ITS NOT OVER YET SHUT UP yourusername meaning?? elijahhewson NOTHING ryanmcmahon_15 NOTHING

inhalerfan11 NOOOO

inhalerfan23 god i have seen what u have done for others

trumanblack come take some flicks for us?

elijahhewson no joshjenkinson_ no bobbyskeetz shes all yours mate ryanmcmahon_15 rob shut up before i leak some information that i find very important. bobbyskeetz YOU WOULD NEVER joshjenkinson_15 TRY US bobbyskeetz JOSH NOT YOU TOO yourusername OIII all of u. out my comment section

inhalerdublin twas an honor having u with us, and for the rest of the tours!🤗🤗

inhalerdublin whos us? yourusername robert get out

inhalerfan100 why do i get the gut sense that her and bobby do not like each other?

inhaler203 i dont think so, i was at their last shows and he complete heart eyes for her liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and joshjenkinson_ inhaler203 RYAN JOSH WHAT DO U KNOW inhaler100 their my enemies to lovers trope

oliviarodrigo im going on tour soon babes if u need a job😉😉

yourusername omg.

inhaler45 im living for this comment section

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throughout the remaining of the tour, there was an uncomfortable tension between you and bobby, and with the last dates coming up, you weren't sure if you wanted to come back.

but then again, you were confused.

after your last blow with the bassist, there was a peace between the two of you, if thats what you could even call it. he no longer took every opportunity to be petty, in fact, you hadn't spoken a word to the man since.

but you saw the tweets, the comments, and even noticed the other three members of the band acting funny when the two of you were in close proximity. the possible thought that bobby felt anything to you besides utter dislike, felt impossible.

the group of you were lounging around before the boys had to go onstage, and you could still feel bobby's eyes piercing at you from behind. despite the other's chatter, there was still an underlying discomfort from the two of you. his gaze lingered on you, and looking back towards him, you noticed there was a mixture of frustration and something else.

attempting to break the silence, you sighed in defeat, "what's wrong with you now, rob?"

there was a moment of hesitation on his part, jaw clenching, "it's nothing," he muttered, but his tone said otherwise.

"doesn't seem like it," you countered. you were tired of fighting with him, you just wanted peace for the remainder of the tour. "look, tour is almost over and can we at least try to-"

but he interrupted you before you could even finish, "try to what? pretend like everything is okay," his voice laced with bitterness, "like nothing happened?"

you sighed in defeat, feeling an oncoming argument brewing, "you cannot keep dwelling on the past rob," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady, "what happened was a mistake, for you," you emphasized, "and for me."

"a mistake," he scoffed, "you're acting like it meant nothing, like i meant nothing."

there was a clear tone of hurt and resentment in his voice, his words cutting deeper than you could've imagined, "that is not fair rob," you whispered, looking away from his eyes. trying to avoid his gaze, you noticed the room had cleared, the three boys' chatter no longer being background noise to your conversation.

those little shits.

bobby noticed your avoidance, "you just left, without a word," he continued, his voice filled with an ache that mirrored your own. "do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

the weight of his accusations hung heavily in the air, did he really have no idea of how much he hurt you too? how much you look back to that night and wish things were normal between the two of you.

"it wasn't easy for me either," you confessed, voice barley audible. "but what did you expect me to do? especially after what you said."

the atmosphere became thick with emotion, your unsaid words confusing him.

"what are you going on about?"

"really? 'this doesn't mean anything'," you scoffed, your hidden emotions rising to the surface, "do you know how heartbreaking those four words were? god, do you know how many nights i spent thinking about that. then here you come accusing me of being at fault."

his eyes softened at your confession, "i didn't know. you never said."

"i thought you knew," you cut him off, "i shouldn't have to tell you how harmful your words were."

"i didn't know," he spoke softly, getting up and standing in front of you, looking down at you into your eyes, "you could've told me. i would have been there for you.

"and what would have you done? hm?" you quipped as you looked away, anger and ache still inside your tone.

he softly grabbed your chin for you to look back up at him, "i would've told you how stupid i was, how scared. you have no idea how afraid i was of it ruining everything, and look at us now, look at what it's done to us. look at what my stupidity has done to us. i would've been there for you, through everything because i love you."

your breath hitched, utter surprise written all over your face, a small smile beginning to spread across your face, "i love you, and you aren't stupid. its just your pettiness," you spoke, trying to make the conversation lighter.

"oi, you're one to talk woman," he laughed, cupping your cheek to pull you into a kiss.

and as if it was right out of a corny soap opera, you heard a cheery whistle from the side of you. turning you were met with those three little shits with grins on their faces, well except eli, who looked completely defeated.

"as much as i am happy for the two of you coming to your senses," ryan began, turning to eli, "pay up, hewson."

eli groaned in frustration, pulling out cash from his pocket and placing it onto the ryan and josh's outstretched palms.

"you shits placed a bet on us?" bobby questioned.

"was an easy bet, after you drunkenly confessed your love to me a few nights before tour," josh explained to you two.

bobby's cheeks heated up, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. "is that what your silly comments on my posts meant?" you asked the trio.

"uh, look at the time! c'mon keating, time to perform!"

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername that one AM lyric about looks of love or smth

view all 4930 comments

inhalerfan43 OHMYGODAD

inhalerfan111 THE HARDLAUNCH IM DYIGNAKE

bobbyskeetz this damaging my rep woman

yourusername k bobbyskeetz haha i was just kidding bobbyskeetz i love you elijahhewson robert keating has emotions??

inhalerfan23 ive lost the love of my life to a guy who plays bass...

yourusername he's dorky ways and sassiness has captivated me bobbyskeetz HEY

ryanmcmahon_15 WAR IS OVERRRR

inhalerfan2 hes one of us fr yourusername dont think i've forgotten abt ur little bet dipshit ryanmcmahon_15 uh.... liked by joshjenkinson_, elijahhewson and 80 others

bobbyskeetz my woman

yourusername ur so babygirl i love u

bobbyskeetz THE LOOK OF LOVE THE RUSH OF BLOOD, THE SHES WITH MES

joshjenkinson_ this was so worth him talking my ear off about u

bobbyskeetz OI

inhalerfan432 HIS LOVE STARE IN THE LAST PIC IM SOBBING

inhalerfan00 im soooo normal abt them ahhahahahahahah

inhalerfan12 shes one of us fr

yourusername oh fs inhalerfan12 HI MOTHER

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THE END

omg sooo lmk if u guys enjoyed this? pls i haven't written in so long so sorry it took be a bit to release this

also if theres any error in the format or anything i apologize cause im still getting used to writing on tumblr

lots of loveeeee <333

#robert keating x reader #bobby skeetz #bobby skeetz x reader #bobby skeetz imagine #inhaler #inhaler fic #inhaler imagine #enemies to lovers #fanfic #sunshine x grumpy #x reader

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ash5monster01 · 5 days

Text

DPS Masterlist

Main Masterlist

all works include a femreader. requests are open for any of the boys. I hope you enjoy <3

Charlie Dalton

Getting Red

Only Thing Left to Live For

Snowed In

Red Lips 18+

I Can See You

First Snow

You’ll Be Okay

Perfectly Me

Truths Of Our Past series

Goes On series

Neil Perry

New Romantics 18+

First Time 18+

Sick Day

All (not including reader)

Trapped in Time

It’s Not Christmas Without You

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inkymoon16 · 5 months

Text

Love At First Sight

Bobby Skeetz x Reader

tags: first person narrative, inhaler imagine

Today was the day. The Inhaler concert. My friend and I had been planning this day for months. When we bought the concert tickets I felt an unmatched happiness and anticipation for the date. I had been a fan of Inhaler since 2020 and I was confident of my lyric knowledge.

I had introduced my friend to the band a couple months ago and she immediately loved them. We planned to get to the city early so that we could wait on line and get barricade. I really wanted to be as close to the music as possible and I didn't care how long I waited. We had packed lunch and dinner in disposable baggies in order to not leave the line. Even though the band is not that well known, we didn't want to take any chances.

I checked my phone and it was around 5:00. Doors open soon. Waiting in the line all day made those final 2 hours feel like nothing. We had managed to be some of the first people on line so barricade was almost a guarantee. My stomach danced in the anticipation of seeing the boys on stage. I had dreamed of this day for so long. All those hours of watching interviews and concert footage and I was finally going to see them in person. I smiled thinking about it.

We had picked our outfits months ago - our anticipation getting the best of us. I had on Levi's jeans, a black tank top, and since it was a little chilly out, a jean jacket. The outfit was very 70s inspired. My hair was down around my shoulders and we had both done our makeup. My friend had on leather pants, Vans, and a purple bralette. As the time got closer to doors opening, we could hear their soundchecks. I could hear "My Honest Face" and "Cheer Up Baby" faintly through the doors. My heart raced, anticipating hearing those up close to my face.

The doors finally opened and we raced inside. The cool inside felt nice against my skin and the open floor made my feet pick up speed. Next thing I know, we got barricade. I looked at my friend and we both broke into massive grins.

"Thank God. We did it." She said. We were so close to the stage. Like so close. If one of the band members kneeled down, they would be right in my face. My heart rate once again picked up. All of them were so fine. I know my friend fancied Eli, but I personally fancied Bobby. God, he was so hot. I literally felt myself blushing just thinking about him. And the fact that in just a couple hours he would be right in front of me made me blush harder.

The time seemed to drag by so slowly. The opening act was good, but nothing crazy. 30 minutes left until they came on. The tension in the pit was palpable. Everyone was nervous but beyond excited.

The lights went out. I felt my heart drop to the floor and my face broke out into a massive grin. This was the moment. Finally. As the lights came back on, shining upon their bodies I blushed for no reason. There they were. Bobby looked so fucking good. I could see my friend practically drooling over Eli.

Bobby's microphone was at the perfect angle where we kept making eye contact. I didn't want to seem delusional but after a couple repeated times, it felt as though he was seeking me out. So I acted it up a little. Dancing in a sexy way and sending him flirtatious smirks. He reciprocated one of the smirks and I felt my heart flutter.

At one point during "My King Will Be Kind" Bobby came close to barricade and bent down in front of me. He started strumming his guitar directly at me and I could see every detail in his beautiful face. I gazed right into his eyes and saw they were glazed with adrenaline and lust. My stomach was filled with butterflies. He grabbed my chin and whispered "Meet me outside later" close to my face before backing away. He winked and stood back up.

Holy shit. I looked to my friend for confirmation that this did actually happen and I wasn't hallucinating. Her face was flooded with shock. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" I yelled at her. The girls near me kept shooting daggers with their eyes, but I couldn't care less.

For the rest of the concert, Bobby and I kept making eye contact. I had no idea where on Earth I was supposed to meet him, but I would find it. I just had to make sure no other fans followed us.

As soon as the concert finished, my friend and I tried to get out of the venue as quickly as we could. Outside on the street we went around the corner to see if there was an exit that we could find. Down a side alley there was an unmarked door and we both shrugged before entering the dark alley.

"Honestly if we die while waiting for this band it was so worth it." She said.

I nodded. "Oh, absolutely."

Fortunately, we did not have to wait long. Josh came through the door first, followed by Ryan. They waved to us, clearly unphased by our presence. They waited at the end of the alley with their hands in their pockets. Eli and Robert came out and he immediately smiled at me.

"Hello gorgeous." Bobby said to me. I gave him a seductive smile and he put his arm around my back.

"Where are we going?" I ask, as I could hear my friend strike up a conversation with Eli.

"The bar next door - there's cheap drinks and dancing."

"Perfect."

We entered the bar, the bouncer barely checking us. The music was loud and pounded against my heart. It was dark and dimly lit, with a makeshift dance floor on the side. We approached the bar and he came close to my face. "Let me buy you a drink. I didn't get your name either."

"Rum and coke. It's Sienna."

"Sienna. What a lovely name. Well I guess you know I'm Bobby."

I laughed. "Really? Didn't know." I said sarcastically, which made him crack a smile at this. We got our drinks and he put his arm around me again.

"Come on, let's dance." He led me towards the dance floor and I felt my heart swoon at the sight of him, sweaty in dim bar lightning. He had combat boots, jeans, and a faded band t-shirt on. I wanted to consume him at that moment. His eyes roamed over me in the same way.

The music danced around us as we screamed the well known lyrics at each other. Each moment was getting more lustful as he leaned towards me. His lips caught mine and the world was suddenly on fire. It was like nothing else mattered. His hands grabbed my hips as mine grabbed his hair. We made out like that for a while. We kept dancing and making out. In between small talk conversation of course.

#bobby skeetz #robertkeating #bobby skeetz x reader #bobby skeetz imagine #inhaler imagine #bobby skeetz x you #robert keating x reader

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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

liked by yourusername and others

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

liked by ryanmcmahon_15 and others

yourusername and it always leads to you and my hometown

view all other comments

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

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

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

liked by elijahhewson and others

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

view all other comments

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

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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

view all other comments

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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sirenlulls · 11 months

Text

satellite → r. keating (b. skeetz)

pairings — robert keating x fem!reader

summary — what bobby skeetz would be like as your annoying boyfriend <3

spinning out, waiting for you to pull me in. i can see you're lonely down there. don't you know that i am right here?

i feel like you'd be a long-term relationship (like teenage years long term)

ik they went to some fancy all boys school so let's say you went to an all girls school near theirs that would often go on trips together (pls tell me that wasn't just my school that did that)

either that of you'd meet through extra curriculars or overlapping friend groups

EITHER WAY met when ye were young (13-14) and got together when ye were 16-17

tbh most people thought you'd only last a few months bcs it was a teenage relationship after all but you're so chill with each other that it became very clear very quick that ye were just different

major "my girlfriend's my best friend" vibes

because of that, every inhaler fan knows you

you're no longer referred to by your name

you're just "mother" now

it's low-key a problem

like in any of your instagram posts or cute little tiktoks, at least half of the comments have a silly little inhaler pfp and are calling you mother

anyways

he's so annoying

definitely a very playful relationship

mocking eachother and all that

telling anyone else (outside your friendgroup) to fuck off if they do the same

he himself wouldn't be very public with the relationship

like you wouldn't be the face of every instagram post but you'd be in a story every few weeks and you'd pop up in the middle of a photo dump here and there

the inhaler_on_tik account however....

fans play where's wally with you in the tiktoks

usually hiding in a window reflection or the hem of your jacket poking into frame

enough to know you're there

you'd be best friends with all the fans

gigs are your opportunity to make new friends

they all adore you

so many fan tiktoks from gigs just have you dancing away with them

they'd bring you flowers <3

but yeah even if bobby himself doesn't post you a lot, fans would get pictures of you two together and they'd be so cute 😭

most of them are taken before gigs when he's helping you out of the bus or ye're walking into the venue together

but someone got a picture of you two once at some silly little market in spain and you were looking at flowers and he was looking at you

they posted it to tiktok and you asked them to send it to you

it was your lockscreen for a bit x

BIRD BINGO!!!

if you're ever traveling without him, you'd take pictures of any birds you pass and send them onto him

i really need to make sure it's known that he'd be annoying

like imagine you're just lying in bed, reading or on your phone, and he just bellyflops on top of you

no warning

no escape

you're trapped

i said the same in my eli headcanons but i don't really get spooning vibes from him

no matter what way you fall asleep, at least some part of him will be touching you

whether he's full on wrapped around you or just got an arm thrown over your torso

it helps him sleep better

you're best friends with the band ofc

i mean, you practically grew up together

you and rob never have a moment of peace with them on tour

you could be curled up in bed, and all of a sudden, elijah's busting down your door and lying down beside ye to tell you about a new song idea

you finally think you're free for a moment having a smoke by the back of the bus? nope, ryan's there now purely because he wanted to annoy ye

josh is nice on ye though (not really) (he makes fun of ye all the time) (he's my little pookie bear angel) (he can do no wrong)

they love having you around

and even if you leave the tour bus to get some snacks and come back to them trying on your dresses and robert doing josh's eyeliner you love having them around too

you're starting to get the mother thing

they do feel like you're hyperactive little children

bobby skeetz, the man that you are, you'd be a great boyfriend

#robert keating x reader #bobby skeetz x reader #bobby skeetz #robert keating #inhaler oneshot #inhaler x reader #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson #ryan mcmahon #josh jenkinson

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bobbyskeetzgf · 1 year

Text

i need tour to start asap ‼️

#bobby skeetz #robert keating #bobby skeetz imagine #robert keating imagine #inhaler dublin #inhaler #inhaler imagine #elijah hewson #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #rockstar bf #cutsandbruises

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emilykaldwen · 2 months

Text

I was tagged by both @gwenllian-in-the-abbey and @theothermaidoftarth! Thank you!

Favorite Painter: Edmund Leighton/Edmund Blair Leighton (you'll see both names). Anyone who knows me knows how much I adore medieval romantacism we saw in the latter half of the 19th century/earlier 20th century. I had a poster of The Accodalde in my room for 25 years and only finally had to get rid of it. The new goal is to get a proper reproduction of it. I also really enjoy the work of John William Waterhouse and Edward Robert Hughes! However, my all time favorite painting, Cupid and Psyche is by Jacques-Louis David. (fave mytho couple, but again, if you know me that would be really obvious LOL)

Favorite Poet/Writer: Florine Stettheimer was both a painter and a poet and I was fortunate to see her exhibit at AGO in Toronto when I saw Del Toro's exhibit. She was a Jewish woman from New York City during the first half of the 20th century. I love her work. I also very much enjoy Keats and the first poetry book I owned was A Night Without Armor by Jewel (of 'Who Will Save Your Soul' Fame). Not something I appreciated at 10 years old but do appreciate her work when I got older.

Favorite Singer: Man, IDK. I listen to such a wide range of stuff, but you know what? I always love an Avril Lavigne bop.

Favorite Band: Also have no idea how to answer this. Tween Me was a Backstreet Boys girl, but I love Matchbox Twenty and The Goo Goo Dolls. Johnny Reznik was on repeat a lot.

Favorite Meal and Drink: All I drink anymore is variations on crystal light iced tea (post surgery I need some flavoring, I can't do plain water anymore). Old comfort food used to be mac and cheese but you know what? I love Gołąbki, which are polish cabbage rolls. With some good potatoes (mashed or not). A staple at family meals.

Favorite Outfit aesthetic/style?: So much like Doctor Who, I have a uniform of jeans and a t-shirt or leggings and a t-shirt but I really wanted to get into a more victorian aesthetic.

Favorite Item You Own: besides my desktop, my Tea Service Table Lamp (I did NOT pay $318 for it though, I think it was maybe $150)

Favorite Perfume: I'm so not a perfume person, but I love the scent of lilacs and citrus/bergamot scents. I do have this fantastic rollerball that inspired the perfume I imagine Abby wears.

tagging (if you'd like!): @acrossthesestars, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @jotterjots, @thesunfyre4446, @mihrsuri, @lullaebies, @theladyelizabeth, @arcielee, @toilandtroubled, @zae5, @murmel-malt, @aegonx, @bouncehousedemons, @starcrossedjedis, and anyone else who would like to!

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killersfool · 5 months

Note

hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students!

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me.

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him.

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure."

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering.

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day."

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert.

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage.

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose.

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch.

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa.

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in.

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted.

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msmoony7 · 4 months

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Holiday Decorating with Bobby Skeetz

Summary: you and Bobby decorate your house for the holidays (fluff)

Word count: 370

12 days of fics

masterlist

Christmas is your favorite time of year. You love doing all the stereotypical holiday things, no matter how cheesy. Currently, you’re in the attic gathering your Christmas ornaments while your boyfriend finishes setting up the tree the two of you picked this morning. You bring down an unhealthy amount of ornaments and bring them into the living room where your tree was set up.

“Hey, look at this,” Bobby says to you as you walk into the room with the final box or ornaments. You place them on the table and take a step back as Bobby plugs in the lights that he wrapped around the tree. The lights are colorful and they look great on the full tree that you picked out.

“I love it,” you smile at him.

“Go on, put the first one on the tree.”

You rummage through the boxes looking for your favorite ornament. It was a gift from Bobby from your first Christmas together. It’s a photo of the two of you on your first date in a silver ornament that resembles a picture frame with the year the two of you started dating written at the bottom. You finally find it in one of the many boxes you brought down and walk over to the tree and put it in the center of the tree.

There’s no method to your madness, you and Bobby just put the ornaments wherever there’s room. One thing you hated was sad, white trees, so you were sure that your Christmas tree was anything but. Every year, Bobby put on colorful lights for you, and your ornaments did not match whatsoever. The deep red skirt that was underneath the tree goes perfectly with all the crazy colors on the tree. Finally, the tree is all decorated.

Bobby then gets your stockings and hangs them up on the fireplace while you start putting up some other miscellaneous decor you found in the bins. The house is all decorated, so you crash onto the couch and get under one of your Christmas blankets. Bobby joins you a second later and cuddles up against you. Holiday music fills the house and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the life you’ve made with Bobby.

#inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhalerdublin #inhaler band #inhaler x reader #bobby skeetz imagine #bobby skeetz x reader #bobbyskeetz #bobby skeetz #robert keating #robert keating x reader #robert keating fluff #bobby skeetz fluff #band #rockstar gf #rockstar girlfriend #rockstar #12 days of fics

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duck-in-a-spaceship · 3 months

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It took me a while, but the next chapter of Pages Dog-Eared, Margins Filled is indeed up. This is the second to last one, and hopefully it's worth the wait!

Chapter text below the cut

The music fell over Neil in waves, notes washing over him, sweeping away the outside world in their tides. He imagined the ocean dancing with itself, two watery figures in moonlight that illuminated them from the inside out. He didn’t actually know any dances, at least not the kind he imagined the two figures doing, but that didn’t really matter, he found, because the music took the steps for him, helped his dancers find their feet.

Then the bell rang, chiming out through all of Welton, and a wave crashed over Neil’s dancers.

He heard the gentle shuffling around him, and figured his classmates were all pulling off their blindfolds, starting to gather their things, but Neil stayed right where he was. Keating stopped the music, fully severing the daydream but… Neil didn’t want to leave quite yet.

“That’s it for today boys,” Keating told them, and Neil listened as everyone began to rise to their feet, collecting their things, chatting amongst themselves as they headed out the door. He didn’t need to watch, didn’t need to do anything, really. Just listen.

The shuffling receded, footsteps carrying themselves away, and finally the clamor in the hallway was muffled as (Neil figured) the last person let the door close behind them.

Suddenly, it was just Neil left. Well, Neil and Keating, he assumed. That was all he could do, afterall, assume, and that was kind of nice too. No need to be right, no way to be wrong, because he had no way of knowing what the truth was. He could just guess, and go from there.

Neil heard Keating settle on the desk in front of him, and he slowly took off the blindfold, let its darkness fall away.

“Decided to take a little nap there?” Keating asked.

Neil smiled, chuckled a little at the joke. “No sir,” he assured. “I was paying attention. I just, uh, wasn’t ready to go to my next class yet, I guess.”

“Well, from some of the time I’ve had to spend interacting with my fellow colleagues, I can’t say I blame you, Mr. Perry.” He winked there, and Neil grinned widely. “But, I don’t think I’d be the best teacher if I encouraged truancy, so I should suggest you get to class.”

Neil fiddled with the edges of his blindfold, tapping his energy out on the side of the desk. “Well, what if we had to talk about something for class?” he asked. “That would be okay, right? You could give me a note or something for Dr. Hager?”

Keating raised an eyebrow, seemingly considering his offer. Neil raised his eyebrows in return (he didn’t think he could get just one up) and Keating chuckled. “I suppose I could let you be a little late, if you do need to discuss your coursework, of course.”

Neil nodded eagerly. “Actually, I have been wanting to ask you if you have any poetry recommendations?”

Keating looked at him with a sort of surprised expression, before smiling wryly. “How interesting,” he remarked casually. “Mr. Anderson had the same question for me not even a week ago.”

Warmth flushed up Neil’s neck, all the way to his cheeks. He felt like he’d been caught making out with Todd in a closet, which was ridiculous, he knew, because all he’d actually done was ask a similar question as his classmate. But when he looked at Keating’s knowing smile, he wasn’t really sure if there was a difference.

“Well uh… I mean-” he forced an awkward sort of laugh, trying, somehow, to act calm, to hide the fact that he potentially had a crush on Todd Anderson that could dwarf certain suns. “What did you tell him?”

“I believe I recommended ‘ The Road Not Taken’ by our dear friend Robert Frost. I don’t suppose you would know if he took me up on that recommendation, would you?”

Keating gave him a knowing sort of look, but it didn’t elicit the flash of panic Neil would have expected. He had a crush on Todd Anderson, Keating was apparently right onto him and… and that was probably okay.

“Yeah he… he did.” Neil remembered watching Todd as he delivered his poem, the way he seemed to get lost in the words, coming back to earth only after the final stanza had drawn to a close. Neil wasn’t sure where Todd went when he read, and it felt rude to just ask, like something too personal. He imagined it was something like what he felt, sitting there with his blindfold on, listening to classical music. “He did a really good job with it, obviously.” Neil broke into a smile at the ‘obviously’, knowing it was really something that could have gone unsaid, and they both would have known it anyway. He still wanted to say it.

“Well I’m glad to hear it.” Keating slapped Neil’s desk, which made him jump a little, and then rose to his feet. “Hopefully we can find something just as effective for you.”

“Hopefully, Captain,” Neil agreed, watching silently as Keating scanned his bookshelves, pulling a large, leather-bound collection free.

“You’re a man of Shakespeare, Neil, is that right?” Keating asked, already flipped through the pages.

“Absolutely,” Neil agreed excitedly, peering up slightly to try and gain a glimpse as to what exactly Keating was looking at, a task that very immediately proved itself pointless.

“Well then, I’m sure you’ll be aware of, if not familiar, with some of his sonnets.”

Neil nodded. “Uh, aware of, maybe not familiar,” he admitted, and Keating smiled as he set the book down in front of Neil, opened to a specific page.

“Well then, let’s see if we can fix that.” Keating tapped his finger upon the page. “Sonnet 18, might be one you’ve heard of.”

Neil scanned the page for only a moment, but it was enough for his eyes to catch the very first line ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’. He looked up at Keating, who had that same knowing smile, that sort of twinkle in his eye, and Neil nodded. He folded over the corner of the page, and closed the book, taking it with him as he stood.

“Thank you, O Captain, My Captain.”

“You’re quite welcome, my good Puck.”

+++

“Are you excited?” Neil asked, as he walked by Todd’s side, as the forest swallowed them both whole.

“Yeah, course I am.” Todd said the words like they were obvious, and Neil found himself surprised because they kind of were, because Todd had shed whatever walls he seemed so keen to hide behind all the time, and was smiling at him broadly. “I might be more excited if I knew what I was looking forward to, though.”

Neil laughed. “Well that would just ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it?”

“Doesn’t have to be a surprise. If you’d ever asked, I’d tell you what I was reading.”

“Okay then, what are you reading?”

Todd huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. (A horrible idea, really, they needed those for balance out here, and Todd was always tripping over himself when they traveled through the woods.) “Well I’m not telling you now , if you won’t tell me yours.”

“See! Then we’re even, and you don’t get to complain.”

“You’re going first, though.”

“Alright, sure,” Neil said very seriously, nodding along in agreement. “I’ll go first, read the opening statements, and then you’ll read your poem…” He trailed off, waving one hand through the air as he described his plans, to look over his shoulder at Todd, who was glaring at him and clearly trying, very hard, to hide his amusement.

“You’re a jerk.”

Neil laughed, but Todd went on before he got the chance to respond. “Fine, I’ll go first, but mine’s short anyway, it’ll be over before you know it.”

“I’ll be sure to savor it,” Neil assured him. They were nearing the cave, then, able to watch as it suddenly appeared into view, right under their feet.

“Uh thanks,” Todd muttered, traveling down the path, worn familiar by their own steps.

“Also, don’t think I didn’t notice your clue! There’s only so many short poems out there!”

Todd laughed, ducking into the cave ahead of Neil. “You’re not going to guess it!”

“Maybe I will!” Neil followed him, down, and suddenly they were face to face. Neil froze, and Todd did too, staring at him with slightly wider than usual eyes.

“What do you think?” Todd asked quietly, and Neil found himself suddenly very, very unsure if they were still talking about poetry.

He leaned in slightly, and didn’t know how to feel when Todd didn’t lean back, when he stayed right where he was. “Whitman,” he finally said.

Todd laughed, broke the tension, the moment… broke something as he stepped away, found a spot to get settled in the cave. “That’s just your default guess then, huh?”

“You like him!” Neil said defensively, finding his own spot to get settled and pulling out the opening notes. He’d been getting lax on reading them as of late, but they’d made it in his little improvised agenda for the night, so he felt that they were a needed inclusion. “Am I right?”

Todd shook his head, sitting down on one of the rocks around the cave. “No more hints.”

Neil laughed. “Alright then, fine. You just know I’d figure it out.”

Todd only graced that statement with an eyeroll, which Neil smiled at. Then he took out the old, tattered book that Keating had left on his desk, opened it to the first page, and began to read.

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately-”

The words were nearly cemented in Neil’s head at that point, etched there like a river slowly carving its way into a mountain. They felt comfortably familiar on his tongue, like old friends. He thought the repetition might strip their meaning at some point, like saying ‘spaghetti’ or ‘lamppost’ over and over again, until they just sounded like strange collections of sounds. But the excerpt held the same weight the fifteenth time he read it out as it had the first, and when he finished, they both let the silence hang in the air for a moment.

Neil was the one not to break the silence, but maybe carefully pull it back, like a curtain. He cleared his throat. “You’re up.”

Todd nodded, and they switched spots; Todd standing as Neil sat down, eager to listen. He realized that Todd didn’t have a book with him this time, or anything really, he just stood tall and looked right at Neil.

“This is O me! O life! By… well, Walt Whitman.”

Neil grinned, pleased at his own correct guess, but decided he could save the gloating for another time, as Todd began–

Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,

Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish

Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,

Of the poor results of it all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,

Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,

The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists and identity,

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Neil found himself mouthing along to the final lines. Keating referenced them enough that their whole class probably knew at least the final section, and Neil in particular had made sure to etch them in his memory, in his very soul. Hearing them from Todd himself was somehow transformative. Neil couldn’t quite describe it, but he wasn’t sure he felt the need to, either.

Todd finished his reading, and a slow silence descended on top of them. There were no pages to put away, no books to slam shut, just the two of them, staring at each other, quiet.

“So I was right,” Neil announced proudly, interrupting that slow, distant quiet. “Whitman,” he added, teeth cutting through the ‘t’.

Todd rolled his eyes, sat down across from Neil in the cave. “Alright, yeah, but it's not like it was that hard to guess.” He broke eye contact with Neil, started twisting his fingers around the edge of his jacket sleeve, fidgeting. “Besides, it’s a good poem.”

Neil smiled. “You’re right, it is. That was one of the first ones Keating introduced us to, right?”

“Yeah,” Todd chuckled, still fidgeting with his sleeves. “Yeah, right at the beginning of the year, back when we all thought he was crazy or something.”

“I’m not sure I’ve changed my mind on that one. I think it’s good he’s a little nuts, don’t you? Makes him the best teacher we have.”

Todd hummed in agreement. “Yeah, maybe.” He nodded at the book in Neil’s hands, gesturing to it with one lazily flopping hand. “Come on though, it’s your turn. No stalling.”

Neil laughed as he rose to his feet, flipping through the pages of his book. “Hey, I wasn’t stalling! I was just making conversation.” He found the right one, page dog-eared, margins filled, annotated and well-read. His stomach flipped as his eyes found the first line, and he wondered if maybe he was stalling a little after all.

“Are you ready?” he asked Todd.

“Of course.”

Of course. Neil nodded, reminded himself that he could do this, that he was an actor, that it was his calling to give performances just like this one, to pour his entire heart into them just like this one. So he cleared his throat quietly, and began-

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

The words fell from Neil’s lips like honey in some parts, in others they tumbled forth like autumn leaves. He couldn’t tell if time seemed to speed up or slow down as he gave his performance. Maybe time just kind of broke a little in general, and part of Neil would always be stuck in that moment, in that sonnet. It didn’t seem like such a bad moment to be caught in.

Neil shut the book, looked over its spine at Todd, who was sitting on the floor of the cave, who was looking up at him, wide-eyed, too-still. “What’d you think?” he asked after a moment, shrugging the silence off his shoulders.

“Neil, that was amazing. You- you did good. Really good.” And Todd looked up at him like he really meant it, still wide-eyed, maybe a bit more fidgety, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket, blond hair swaying in the dim light. Neil wondered if that was how he looked, when he watched Todd read his poetry.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, grinning. “I chose it for you, you know.”

“That- it was a good choice. Shakespeare.”

“Oh yeah, probably pretty predictable though, huh? Bet you could’ve guessed it, if you tried.”

Todd nodded down at his hands; he watched them as they trailed over the stitching on his coat, as they curled the fabric over itself and rolled it between their fingers. “Why that one, specifically?” He looked up at Neil, suddenly too-still. Eyes narrow.

Neil swallowed down the fluttering in his stomach, the sudden, frantic question of- ‘Am I really doing this?’ Instead, he replaced it with the reverberating chorus of ‘Carpe diem. Seize the day.’

“I chose it for you,” he said, again, looking down at Todd. In the firelight of regular dead poets meetings, his eyes would flash and shine, hair golden. But here, the cave was dark, illuminated by a dying flashlight they’ve stuck in the corner. Here, Todd’s eyes were something deep and dark, something he could fall into. Here, their hair was the same shade of brown.

Neil cleared his throat. “I think that you’re all those things, Todd. I’ve thought it since- I don’t know- I’ve thought it since we met? Since we started the club? Since you read me your first poem? I don’t know when I realized it, but once I did I couldn’t just… you were everywhere Todd. I couldn’t ignore it. Like the sun.” The words were tumbling out of him, and Neil took a shaky breath, tried to reorient himself in the cave, with the flashlight, with those eyes and that hair.

“And god sometimes I feel like… like a flare or something. Like something that’ll burn bright and then just- just tear itself up. Go out. But I see you, and I can’t imagine you ever burning up, just shining on until the end of the universe. And I think that’s why…” Neil’s voice shook, despite his best efforts, despite all his actor training. There was no script, just words, thoughts, emotions, too much for him to carry without wavering. Carpe diem. “And shit, Todd, I think that’s part of the reason why I’m a little bit in love with you.”

Neil finished his confession with a weak laugh, with a shaky smile smothering over his hesitance. Todd didn’t return the gesture, the laugh, the smile, he just looked up at Neil with something so genuine Neil wasn’t sure what to do with it. He gripped the book in his hands, and hoped he didn’t break it.

“You don’t have to say anything, right now. Or ever, I guess, I just-”

“Wait, Neil, I-” Todd cut him off with a rushed sort of franticness, like he knew he had to say something , even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. Neil shut up.

Todd rose to his feet, and suddenly they were right in front of each other, too close for the beams of the flashlight to hit their faces, shading each other from its glare. “Do you want to know why I chose my poem?” Todd asked, softly.

“Why?” Neil matched his tone without even thinking about it, which was good, because otherwise he might be tempted to shout over the wild beating of his heart in his chest. They were so close .

“Because I want to live life to the fullest and because… because I know what I want my verse to say.”

And when Todd leaned forward, Neil matched him without thinking about it.

The kiss was quiet and brief and maybe, when they both looked back on it privately, they’d call it awkward– they didn’t know what to do with their hands, were a little too scared when they didn’t need to be. But in the moment, it felt like the sun was shining right on Neil’s chest, right into it, where it never got to go, and it felt wonderful.

Todd pulled away first, both of their eyes fluttering open.

“That was a good verse,” Neil said softly, and Todd laughed, turning his head down and away from him, golden hair flashing in the cave.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

#dead poets society #anderperry #neil perry #todd anderson

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