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killersfool · 6 months

Note

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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inhalerupdates · 8 months

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HAPPY 24TH BIRTHDAY ELIJAH!!! 🎉❤️🎉❤️🎉

#inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #elijah hewson #eli hewson #robert keating #bobby skeetz #ryan mcmahon #josh jenkinson #eli birthday

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a-field-of-paper-flowers · 11 months

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𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭

(credits to@/kkenstewy on twitter)

#elijah hewson #eli hewson #inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhaler band

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lenelaura · 8 months

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Elijah Hewson / Inhaler

📷 Lenenordfjord

#inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #elijah hewson #eli hewson #musicphotography #concert photography #live music #music photography

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we-were-born-to-die · 1 year

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#tumblr #elijah hewson #inhaler #inhaler band #inhaler dublin #rockstar bf #aesthetic #music #moodboard

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orangeinecstasy · 8 months

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ʚ masterlist ɞ

requests: open

✦ : inhaler

robert keating

one word: part one, part two

the strokes

halloween party

ryan mcmahon

cup of music: part one, part two

about you

ryan bf thoughts

elijah hewson

pool party: part one, part two

creative writing

josh jenkinson

film fest

✦ : 5 Seconds of Summer

luke hemming

relax nsfw

luke bf thoughts nsfw section

pretty boy

calum hood

bf calum thoughts, part two: nsfw

cherry cola: part one. part two. part three. part four. part five. part six. final. (Hiatus)

ashton irwin

bf ashton thoughts nsfw section

micheal clifford

coming soon

✦ : the 1975

matty healy

bf thoughts nsfw section

blurb; domestic matty

ross macdonald

bf thoughts nsfw section

george daniel

coming soon

adam hann

coming soon

#inhaler dublin x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler #oc #oneshot #imagine #inhaler oneshot #5sos #5 seconds of summer #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #inhaler x reader #5sos x reader #the 1975 x reader

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parisindaylight · 1 year

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★ FIRST AVENUE, MN

☆☆☆prettiest wall i’ve ever seen

#stargirl #the pixies #jeff buckley #first avenue #radiohead #the strokes #elliott smith #minneapolis #minesota #metallica #inhaler band #inhaler dublin #inhaler

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leaawrites · 3 months

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Missing you

Ryan McMahon × fem!reader

Summary: You're missing Ryan while he's on tour and just want him around you.

Kinda inspired by Fever Dream by Sabrina Carpenter

TW: fem!reader, 2nd POV, feelings of loneliness, delusion, imagination, missing someone, imagining someone is there when they aren't (?), sadness

Wordcount: 599

God, I love this boy.

Masterlist

It felt so real. The dream you woke up to was now nothing but memory. You could still feel his arms around you like he was really there, but he wasn’t. You were proud of him and the band, that they got more recognition now made you really happy. They got all that they deserved. Of course you wouldn’t be jealous over something so silly. But sometimes you just missed him. With Ryan away, who was there to comfort you? Who would hold you at night when you got stuck in your mind again?

So instead of calling him and bugging him with your problems, you were crawling deeper into your mind. It wasn’t healthy, falling asleep with an illusion in your head, but nobody could blame you, right? You were just a silly girl with silly thoughts.

In your dreams, he haunted you. His smile and his laughter began to make themselves comfortable in your imagination. You saw him, but he wasn’t really there. Tour kept him busy and away from you. There was no possible way that something would happen on the road, something that would make him reconsider you as a lover. But you couldn’t stop wondering how you would react if it did. Ryan was too sweet to do you harm, but he was also too far away to assure you that he something like this wouldn’t happen.

The phone beside you lit up, illuminating the night with light. Your light in the dark.

“Hey,” you answered Ryan’s call. He called you every night before and after every show.

“Hey,” he sounds back. His voice was strained and tired.

A low thud was heard in the background and you imagined him falling on the bed in his hotel room, closing his eyes and imaging you.

“How are you?” Your voice wasn’t brighter than his. You both were tired. Whether it be from the action or the distance, it could be both.

“Alright.” His answers were short. Shorter than ever before.

“Are you sure?” It concerned you. Normally, Ryan would tell you about everything that happened that night no matter how tired he was.

He let out a sigh on the other end of the line, his breath was muffled as he moved his hand over his face in a act of desperation. “I just miss you,” he whispered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be heard, but when you were side by side, he would always whisper to you. After you mentioned that you liked the low rasp his voice became when he did it, he did it more often. Just to see the red forming on your cheeks and the small smile covering your face.

“I miss you too,” you whisper back.

You two just kept on the phone for a bit, listening to the other breath, wondering what would be appropriate to say in this moment. If you should say anything at all.

In the end, neither said a word.

His arms held you tight around your waist, his nose nuzzled in the crock of your neck. You felt him breath against your skin and felt at ease.

You only opened your eyes again when you heard Ryan’s slow breath over the phone, signaling that he fell asleep. Your vision fated when tears swallowed your eyes. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t comfort you.

Before waking him up, you hung up the phone and turned around in your bed. Closing your eyes, you tried to make him appear again. If he couldn’t really be there, you would make him appear imaginary.

#ryan mcmahon #ryan mcmahon x reader #ryan mcmahon x you #ryan mcmahon x fem!reader #inhaler #inhaler dublin #inhaler one shot #inhaler band #inhaler imagine #inhaler fanfic #writing

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kindestofkings · 5 months

Text

sunshine baby [1]

robert keating x reader (she/her)

faceclaim: gracie abrams (ofc hahah)

authors note: hello hello! this is a really random one, I am a broken record but I am self projecting in these hence why the reader is always home friends with the boys. also theres so many time skips lol

I really home you enjoy, would really appreciate any feedback or comments yee might have <33

2020

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername 2 months into lockdown we are playing, we are hot girl walking and most importantly we are hot girl drinking 💅

view all 20 comments

bobbyskeetz thanks for choosing the most flattering photos luv x

yourusername any time baby any time :))

yourbestfriend i miss you and your impromptu sing songs <3

yourusername no I miss you so much !! boys are really smelly sometimes 😀 yourbestfriend thats what you get for dating bobby SKEETZ bobbyskeetz heyy yourusername I know right?? bobbyskeetz HEYYYY

elijahhewson there is very little going on behind those eyes

yourusername the bulmers was very warm... and we just lost a zoom quiz

joshjenkinson_ keep our boy sane !

yourusername and whos gonna keep me sane?? whos gonna keep me alive? ryanmcmahon_15 did you put yourself on the line?

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend and others

yourusername as y'all know I dabble with playing some piano andddd my very cool, talented boyfriend and his friends asked me to play on a few tunes for their DEBUT ALBUM. thank you for briefly employing me :))

view all 30 comments

joshjenkinson_ no thank YOU

ryanmcmahon_15 we owe you forever, this is so exciting !

bobbyskeetz as your boss can you make me a cuppa?

yourusername and your legs stopped working when?? also you're closer to the kitchen than I am rn!

bobbyskeetz they just cant take the weight of being such a musical success 😔 friend1 @bobbyskeetz how does she put up with you? bobbyskeetz shh dont make her reflect on her decisions

yourmam so proud of you chicken!!

yourbestfriend and the start of your music career is when?

yourusername oh hush you heheh elijahhewson she asks the important questions yourusername why be a musician when you can be a broke college student right 😀

yourusername posted to their story!

if the boys have zero fans, i am dead.

bobbyskeetz so extreme but I love you <3

bobbyskeetz

liked by joshjenkinson_ and others

bobbyskeetz EVEN BIGGER NEWS !!! Our greatest hits debut album is coming out on July 16th for all you beautiful people to hear. We poured our hearts and souls into this and can’t wait for you to listen . Couldn’t have done it without @theantski @thedrewmanshow @johncatlin @andrea.cozzaglio and all the other talented people who helped get this record finished.

IT WONT ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS !

view all 100 comments

bobbyskeetz ALSO @yourusername for the pretty piano playing

yourusername hushhh rn CONGRATS ON THE SUPERB album

inhalerfan1 i'm seriously so proud of you guys 💙

inhalerfan2 finallyyyy

yourmam well done boys!! huge achievement

bobbyskeetz thank you :))

yourusername

liked by yourmam and others

yourusername it is very cool and a lil strange seeing my fella on posters while im on my daily hot girl walk....

it always be wont this like is out today woooo!

view all 15 comments

elijahhewson I dont remember that photo being taken 😑

yourusername you just release your debut album you gotta celebrate! yourfriend shes just too nice, you were locked.

yourmam lovely photo, why are yee outdoors though? 😂

bobbyskeetz sure we're following covid restrictions! you're looking at four v responsible boys!! yourmam hmmm I don't know about that one now!

yourbestfriend no cause robert and sir hewson would wanna stop looking into my soul..

elijahhewson 😐😐 bobbyskeetz 😐😐 bobbyskeetz what about josh huh he's also throwin some looks yourbestfriend josh can do whatever he wants 🫶🏼 (liked by joshjenkson_ and yourusername)

yourusername oh also everyone compliment ryan on his GORGEOUS hair

yourbestfriend such a power move I adore x yourfriend ryan how does it feel being coolest member of dublin's coolest band?? joshjenkson_ so fit, is he single...?

bobbyskeetz not sure if you got the album name exactly right there..

yourusername huh I dont see anything wrong 🤔

2021

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername the trio is back and just in time to see the boys killing it at fairview park 🔥

view all 15 comments

yourbestfriend forget about them WE are killing it

yourfriend mmhmm we slay 😤

yourbestfriend posted to their story!

when the base player with a staring problem is away, the girlies can steal his girlfriend 🤘🏼

bobbyskeetz oi oi get your feet of my dining table 😤

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz happy birthday beautiful.

view all 50 comments

inhaler1 this is my thirteenth reason 💔

yourusername miss you rockstar!

inhaler1 miss girl who are you? and can you please accept my follow request

inhaler2 nooooooo you're taken ?!?

ryanmcmahon_15 hundreds of girls heartsbroken with the softest of soft launches haha

lewevans the spooky powers of mr skeetz

yourbestfriend FINALLY you're letting him show you off

yourusername haha this is too much please stop 🥺 🥰

inhalerfanupdates

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

inhalerfanupdates I hope its real cause I need a gun after seeing bobbys soft launch

view all 10 comments

inhalerfan1 im so sad I cant

inhalerfan2 im afraid to ask but how long do you think they've been together

inhalerfan3 i 😭 cant 😭😭 think 😭😭😭 about 😭😭😭😭 it

part 2

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

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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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