#elijah hewson oneshot

[killersfool]

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.

[msmoony7]

Inhaler holiday show with Eli Hewson

Summary: your boyfriend’s band performs their final show of the year

Word Count: 420

12 days of fics

masterlist

“Good luck tonight,” you say, kissing your boyfriend on the cheek. 

“Thanks, love. I’ll see you after the show.” He gives you one final hug and walks onto the stage with the rest of his band to perform their final show of the year. After many long months of touring, following them for some and being apart for some more, you were excited for them to have a little break. For themselves, but also to be able to spend some much needed time with your boyfriend.

They play a few songs before Eli finally introduces the band to the crowd. 

“How are we all feeling tonight?” he shouts at the crowd and is met by cheers in response.

“Thanks for coming out so close to Christmas, you all look great tonight. Let’s keep this party going.”

The band starts playing their next song and the crowd starts singing along. Everyone in the audience is dressed for the occasion. Everyones dressed in reds and greens and golds, and Santa hats fill the crowd. At one point, Santa hats are thrown up onstage and Eli and his bandmates put them on, earning a roar from the crowd.

The band plays their final song before the encore and they come offstage for a few minutes. Eli looks gorgeous in his jeans and white tank top, you can’t believe how lucky you are to be his girlfriend.

“You’re great out there,” you say to Eli, “Go on, finish the show.”

He pulls you in for a deep kiss and goes back on stage to play the final two songs. 

“We’re gonna play a few more for you. Thanks for coming out tonight and giving us a great year. We’re gonna take some time off, but we’ll see you all very soon.”

The crowd is the loudest you’ve ever heard it. Finally, the boys finish the show and Eli comes off stage and wraps you in his arms. You can feel the adrenaline radiating off him, knowing this is exactly where he belongs. 

“I’ll never get tired of watching you perform. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby. This break is gonna be so nice, I’ve missed being with you.”

“Missed you too,” you say into his chest, “you deserve some rest, this years been crazy.” 

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s go home.”

The two of you exit the venue and start making your way to your shared home. This year has been amazing, but you can’t wait to see what your future with Eli holds.

[kate-inhaler-1975]

I have a new oneshot coming, and it's the first time I've ever posted smut on here, AND it's not Matty, so it'll most likely be a flop, but we move 😭😭

[sirenlulls]

feels like ➞ e. hewson

pairing — elijah hewson x fem!reader (gracie abrams fc)

fic type — social media au

met you at the right time. this is what it feels like!

♡ liked by gallagher_anais, izzyrichmond_, and 663,982 others

yourusername hello dublin!! i missed u angels sm 🫶 the last time i played a home show it was to a crowd of 200 at most & while i’ll always be grateful for those intimate shows and the family we built, i am so so so grateful and excited to play a sold out 3arena tomorrow with some very special guests ;) see you soon 💋

user SPECIAL GUESTS???? she’s definitely bringing inhaler out for a song or something

user no because didn’t she say on an ig live a few months ago that she helped eli write perfect storm…

user STOP ID CRY

joshjenkinson_ LFG!!!! 🤍🤍

user WHAT DO YOU KNOW JOSHUA.

evehewson beautiful beautiful girl 🫶

yourusername i love u to the moon and back by gorgeous eve ☹️💗

jordanjoyhewson ⭐️girl!! So excited for you x

user her friendship with eli’s sisters is so special to me

user im so excited i’ve been looking forward to this for months 😭😭

oliviarodrigo sososoooooooo proud of u baby 🥹

yourusername UGH!! my liv my life i love u too much

user you’ve grown so much in the past year im inconsolable

bobbyskeetz they were lovely leaves

yourusername getting the snow angel practice in early x

ynhq getting our bows ready!!

elijahhewson you betrayed me with that picture 💔

yourusername the job of a girlfriend is to humble, i’m sorry babe xx

phoebebridgers 🖤🖤🖤

ryanmcmahon_15 just updated their story!

♡ liked by jojolovedog, lizzymcalpine, and 721,798 others

yourusername thank u thank u thank u all for giving me the perfect end to an already perfect tour… speaking of perfect things…. thank u to my angels inhalerdublin for joining me onstage for an encore. i love u guys so much & performing with u was a gift in and of itself 🫶 i’ll miss performing live but i’m so happy to be able to settle down for a while with those close to me. i love u all so so so much. thank u for supporting me 💗💗💗

user do you understand how many lives were impacted by this show.

user this is my boobgenius

reneerapp born to serve 💋

inhalerdublin thanks for having us 🫶❤️

yourusername i was looking at josh when he typed this guys just fyi

ryanmcmahon_15 i, too, ❤️ inhaler!

nieveella stunning beautiful yummy delectable talented showstopping amazing gorgeous perfect (storm)!!!!!!!

yourusername love u sm ☹️💋

user my roman empire

katiegavs can i get a kiss… pls

yourusername anything for u 💋💋

user post concert depression has already started to kick in

user u and eli sharing a mic for the perfect storm chorus had me 🥹🥹🥹🥹 IM UNWELL

stellajones IT GIRLLLLLL

gallagher_anais don’t mind me, just sobbing in my little corner 🥺🫶💗

yourusername ani babyyyyy i love u sm ☹️☹️

yourusername updated their story!

♡ liked by lilamoss, joshjenkinson_, and 699,810 others

yourusername a special thank u to this loser who means the world 2 me. don’t know why u decided to eat that paper but… i still love u forever and ever and ever and ever and… ever!!!

user omg the last pic in dying did they grow up together???

yourusername we went to the same playschool!! went to different primary & secondaries tho 💔

user THATS SO CUTE WTF

elijahhewson you love posting bad pics of me

yourusername you’re a leo you’ll be fine

elijahhewson love you and proud of you always 🤍

yourusername ILY BITCHHHHHHH

bobbyskeetz poor lad was starving

maisiehpeters so cute 🥹❤️‍🩹🎀

evehewson My faves ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user my alex turner & alexa chung fr

chappellroan IM CRYINGGGG YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST EVER

laufey 🥺🥺🥺💞💞💞

[orangeinecstasy]

would love to see a bobby fic!! maybe a friends to lovers? adore that trope , and maybe it’s like a party and one of them gets jealous?? then it leads to them arguing and confessing 🤭 ( maybe a bit of 😏😏 near the end? up to you!! ) love ur work btw!!

an: omg friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes ever! AND WITH BOBBY UGH!!!! it's so perfect for him. thanks so much for your suggestion and hope you enjoy!

halloween party ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟrobbery keating

paring: robert x fem!oc

summary: at Kat's halloween birthday bash, robert has to decipher whether his feelings for kat are purely platonic or maybe something more.

wc: 950

*reblogs, notes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

The music in the house was so loud. Too loud if I was being honest with myself. It bombarded my mind as I was dragged through the dimly lit living room by my friend Niya. She decided that this year I should live a little and somehow convinced me to throw a party for my birthday. However, my birthday happened to be Halloween, so I was in a mini skirt and corset vaguely resembling Marie Antoinette. At least that’s why Niya said when she gave me the outfit and told me to start getting ready earlier that night. 

“I have a surprise!” She said, her smile looking too close to a smirk for my liking. “Please don’t tell me it’s something crazy like a dude with a monkey..” I could feel the knots in my stomach grow tighter. Something about this night felt so different from all my other birthdays. 

“Surprise!!!!” Niya yelled as she pushed me in front of her, squeezing my shoulders gently. That’s when I saw him. His hair was all messy, and where the fuck was his shirt? “Happy Birthday, Kat,” Robert said with a smile as he started to light the candles on the cake I didn’t even notice he was holding. “Make a wish.” 

Just knowing his blue eyes were on me made my body ache in the most primal way. My eyes glanced down at the lit candles before back at his, closing my eyes for a moment before thinking of a wish and blowing them out. Everyone cheered, my lips curling up in a smile as Robert set the cake down on the table, pulling me into a tight hug. 

He smelled like smoke and leather, and his skin was so warm. And my god, his hands, they were so big and warm and gripping my waist so tightly. “What’d you wish for?” he whispered in my ear, breath hot on my neck. “If I tell you, it won’t come true,” I gave him a tight squeeze, my hands lingering on his forearms as I pulled away from him. The party quickly returned to its noisy-colorfully lit atmosphere. 

“I thought you couldn’t make it tonight?” 

“I couldn’t miss my girl’s birthday,” His eyes moved down my body slowly. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Princess?” 

“Marie Antoinette, actually. Sid Vicious?” I cocked my eyebrow, reaching up to gently tug on the chain around his neck. “Ding ding ding!” 

“It suits you.” 

“Kat, come on, I need to introduce you to someone,” Niya said, grabbing my arm. “I’ll see you later. Have fun!” I smiled, giving Robert a wave before being pulled back into the crowd of people by Niya. 

The night continued on, my mind fogged with one too many vodka cranberries. Time felt like an illusion as my body moved on the dance floor. I didn’t know whose hands were roaming my body, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel skin. To feel warmth. 

“Fuck, I’m dizzy,” I mumbled, pulling away from my faceless partner and wandering outside onto the patio. The cool air sent shivers down my spine as the sound of passing cars on the street below mixed with the muffled music. “Kat?” I turned to face with Rob once again. 

“Bobby!” the drunk flush on my cheeks grew darker. Even in the dim lighting, I could see his jaw clench. “I’m really sorry I got pulled away from you earlier.” 

He shrugged, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “It’s whatever,” he placed one between his lips, taking a long drag from it. 

“Bobby, I can tell you’re upset.” I stepped closer to him, arms slipping around his neck. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong.” 

He didn’t budget. Instead, his hands moved down, pulling my grip away from him. “It’s nothing.” 

“You don’t have to be such an asshole, Jesus,” I huff, arms wrapping around my body to provide some warmth. 

“Me, the asshole? What the fuck ever.” He shook his head, taking another long drag off his cigarette. “I went out of my way to come to your birthday party because I care about you and you're fucking people on the dance floor.” 

I scoffed, shocked by the sudden change in his behavior. What happened to my sweet Rob? The guy who was always there and ready to do something stupid or to make me feel better when I was crying over God knows what. 

“Robert, what the fuck is your problem? It’s my party. I’m allowed to have fun.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot the princess gets everything she wants.” he was becoming even more defensive than before. 

“Fuck you! Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m in love with you, Kat. Are you thank fucking thick in the head?” 

My chest tightened, his words echoing in my head for a moment. “You what?” My heart was beating so fast I thought it would fall out of my chest. “I’m in love with you,” his voice got quieter as the words fell from his lips. 

“Robert I,” my chest was too tight. It’s like the universe was telling me not to confess. “I love you too,” My arms wrapped around him, tugging his body closer to me as our lips crashed into a kiss. I could feel his hands on my body, the warm, familiar skin radiating through the costume’s fabric, only making me ache more for him. 

We broke away, breath heavy as his forehead rested on mine. “Your lipstick’s all smudged,” He said with a soft chuckle, thumb swiping over the corner of my mouth to try and clean it up. 

“Why don’t you smudge it some more, hmm?” 

“I think I can do that,” He said, clearing the air between our mouths once again. 

an: i hope you guys enjoyed! i really wanted to get this out there for all my inhaler readers, so sorry if it seems a bit rushed. there will definitely be a part two.

[lgwifey]

masterlist 🤍

navigation

blur

damon albarn

★ jealousy / part two

★ distractions

★ friable

★ the little sister

★ parties and pyjamas

★ fourty eight

★ run

graham coxon

★ the extra

★ pinky promise

alex james

★ council estate

★ lifestyle

oasis

noel gallagher

★ capture / part two

★ the unwanted visitor

★ parties and pyjamas

★ traumatised

★ metanoia

★ the green room

★ bestfriend's brother

★ quick kisses

liam gallagher

★ playing happy families

★ happiness

★ council estate

★ metanoia

★ bestfriend's brother

★ toxic one / part two / part three / part four

★ toxic (seperate oneshot)

nepotism babies

lennon gallagher

★ getting older part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

gene gallagher

★ getting older part one / part two / part three / part four / part five

★ home time

★ photoshoot

★ sunlight

inhaler

robert keating

★ delusions / part two

elijah hewson

★ perks of the job

twilight

edward cullen

★ homesick / part two / part three

caius volturi

★ constant complications

derry girls

david donnelley

★ teenage kicks (wattpad link)

[msmoony7]

💘 can you pls write me an eli hewson blurb and it’s a meet cute at the airport? Also congrats!!

airport meet cute

Eli Hewson x reader

Word count: 770

Note: hope u enjoy it! Thanks for requesting :)

100 follower celebration!

feel free to send in more requests!

You’re late. You’re never late. And you hate being late. But the world seemed to be against you today and everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Your alarm didn’t ring, causing you to sleep in. You knew you should’ve finished packing last night, but you were so tired from work that you couldn’t bring yourself to. You didn’t even have time for breakfast before you had to get out the door and get a taxi. With your luck, the taxi that you hailed got stolen right in front of you by someone who was seemingly in a bigger rush than you. You finally get in a taxi and the driver begins driving to the airport as quickly as they can.

You arrive at the airport and still need to get through security. You have hope that you might make your flight since you don’t need to check a bag. Security takes forever, as always, and you begin running to your gate. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, you see the boarding door close in the distance, not even thirty seconds before you get there.

“Oh come on, please let me on,” you beg the worker.

“I’m sorry, it's policy. Once the doors are closed, we can’t open them. The best we can offer you is a seat on the next flight. It leaves at 6pm tonight.”

It could be worse, you think to yourself. At least there was another flight today. You find the gate for your next flight and pull out a book to kill some time.

There’s about an hour left until your flight begins boarding and at this point, you’re so tired of reading you have to put your book away. You decide to stop at the airport bar for an overpriced drink. The bar is crowded but luckily there’s one seat at the counter. You sit down with a sigh as the bartender comes and takes your order, a vodka redbull.

“You sound like you had a bad day,” you hear the man to your left say.

“You could say that again,” you reply as you look up to meet his eyes. He’s attractive and probably around your age. He has big brown eyes and dark brown hair that is almost too long yet somehow, he makes it work. He’s wearing jeans, a long sleeve black t-shirt, and black boots. “Everything went wrong today, I missed my flight, and had to wait hours for the next one.” You’re not sure why you’re confiding in him, but you’re at your wits end and don’t have time to question anything you do.

“Wow, that sucks. Here, let me pay for your drink,” he says as he hands the bartender his card.

“It’s okay,” you say as you try to grab the card.

“No, I insist. Maybe your day will turn around from here,” he says with a smile as he grabs his card back from the bartender and leaves without another word. You’re thankful for the mystery man as you sip your drink.

The time to board the plane comes around and you’re feeling restless having waited all day for the flight. You walk down the aisles and as you get to your seat, you find the same man who bought you a drink sitting next to your seat.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” you say with a smile. He looks up and upon seeing who you are, gives you a smile in return.

“What’re the odds.”

“Thanks again for the drink,” you say as you take your seat next to him.

“Not a problem. How’s your day been since?” he asks.

“Nothing worse has happened, so I guess that’s an improvement.” Your day has taken a turn for the better, you think.

“Good to hear. What brings you to California?”

“I’m from there, I’m visiting family for the week. How about you?”

“I’m actually in a band. We’re doing some festivals out on the west coast for the next few weeks. I’m Eli, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

The two of you chat for the majority of the flight and get to know each other. Eli helps you get your bag down from the overhead bins and you both walk off the plane together.

“Hey, I’d love to see you again. How about you come to one of the shows?”

“That sounds amazing!”

“Awesome, I’ll text you the details. See you around.” He walks away, giving you a wink and leaving you smiling by yourself as you wait for your family to pick you up. Maybe missing your flight wasn’t a bad thing after all.

[msmoony7]

eli hewson fics

christmas show

airport meet cute

homecoming (nsfw)

[killersfool]

IM LOVING THESE REQUESTS PLS KEEP THEM COMING!!! btw the more detailed, the higher chance of me writing it.

If you haven't already, please make sure to read my elijah hewson full length fic on wattpad ('evergreen'). It's on my masterlist. I poured my heart and soul into that fic !! And it's completed. The first ever fic I've actually fully finished. It's about a group of friends who are put together for a duke of edinburghesque expedition. Eden, the main character, initially detests the two irish lads in her group (robert and eli) but after a rollercoaster of emotions, traumatic shared experiences, she begins to warm up to them. It's inspired by my expedition so it's personal and has all kind of random little things sprinkled into it that i have personally been through. From heating up mouldy, soaked socks in a stove to eating tortillas with nutella to playing Uno and wanting to kill the rest of your group when you don't win.

Also just wanted to thank anyone who is interacting with my work. Even if you're just liking or giving it a read, it honestly makes me really happy. I feel like fanfiction has helped me to grow as a writer. I've been doing this since I was about 13 and have always felt welcomed into any fandom I've written for. I love the sense of community on tumblr/wattpad/ao3. If you have anything to say about my writing (whether that be positive or constructive criticism) do send it my way. I always want to improve. That's why I'm doing this. If you read my first fanfics, you'd be crying your eyes out with shock and confusion. They were terrible.

Okay. Rant over. Thanks again :)

[killersfool]

i will be getting on with requests asap!! if anyone has anymore pls feel free to send them because the more the merrier. i am feeling very inspired after watching inhaler play yesterday :)

[sirenlulls]

you're losing me → e. hewson

pairing —elijah hewson x singer!fem!reader

summary —where you release a new single that sends your friends into a heartbroken panic

sarahskeetz guys, before you go crazy about the eli and y/n rumours, please use some common sense and reevaluate. y/n's wrote countless songs about how elijah is her soulmate AND how media is often so wrong and invasive in regards to their lives and that people shouldn't believe things unless either of them say it directly. plus, these pictures of them were literally posted last month. she'd hardly have prepped you're losing mebto be released in that amount of time

username no fr, even if they did split, they don't deserve the harassment they're both getting online for it

joshjenkily litch. they should be allowed to deal with it in their own time

ynbridgerss okay but the clear parallels between these songs and ylm....

pheebrodrighoe no I get you but y/n hasn't interacted with any of the inhaler guys in a month despite being active online for her tour and even camilla (the number one eliyn stan) hasn't mentioned them since those photos

ynkissmeee lowk hope the rumours are true, he's been leeching off her for years 😭

judebellinghams omg shut up what are you even talking about 💀

yourusername thank u for all the love tonight, la! it's been a hectic week at best so it was lovely to just enjoy the night with you all 💞 but onto the elephant in the room.... i'm still very happily in a relationship with my little babygirl. "you're losing me" is written about my former relationships (mostly platonic) with others that i finally realised were TOTALLY MESSED UP after being with someone who loves me wholeheartedly for so long xx thank you all for the people who did send kind messages my way but please stop listening to gossip sites 😭

sahraskeetz THANK YJE LORD

camillamorrone guys my tweet was bcs y/n ditched me to get food w 🤢eli🤢

yourusername i brought u back a tiramisu shut up

ynxcamistan QUEEN YOU HAD US GAGGED

gracieabrams mother!!

ynhq thank god, we didn't want to leave elijah completely alone in the divorce 💔

robertkeating ❤️❤️

phoebebridgers so in love with you

devonleecarlson stop girl i was giggling over the articles 😭

bellahadid ok stunner

[sirenlulls]

jackie & wilson → e. hewson

pairing —elijah hewson x fem!reader

summary —a little peak into raising a girl with elijah (and her three annoying uncles)

inspired by this ask

everyone say thank you to @whoetoshaw for helping me with this because if there's one thing we will do, it is take baby fever to the next level

we'll steal her lexus, be detectives, ride 'round picking up clues. we'll name our children, jackie and wilson, raise 'em on rhythm and blues

she's the most loved girl in the world but she was not planned 😭

THAT BEING SAID

as soon as it sets in with everyone that you're pregnant, they're obsessed with preparing to make her have the best life

the first thing robert asked when you told him was if you'd call her 'robin'

he kept asking

even after she was born and named

"you can always change it, you know. look at that smile, she's such a robin!"

she'd be such an angel baby

so beautiful too

UGH everyone is obsessed with her

josh is her fav uncle

the others take that very personally

the inhaler ig gets spoiled with the odd picture of eli holding her up like simba during soundcheck, her passed out on josh, ryan sitting her on his knee and letting her 'play' drums, and robert blank staring anyone who comes near him when he's holding her

speaking of

robert is such a clingy uncle

he'll always go on "she's always stealing my spotlight 🥱🥱🙄🙄" and then he's throwing a fit the second anyone tries to take her off him

fans are obsessed with her

if you're ever going into a venue and you've got her with you fans go crazy

respectfully ofc

at least one person has brought a special baby cowboy hat for her 🫶🥺

she'd be such a smiley baby

if you or eli ever need a break, and she's in a hyper mood, pass her off to ryan, and he'll have her giggling for an hour

but onto elijah

he's such a good dad

so so awkward in the beginning

poor guy is just afraid of messing up

after the first month or so he's a natural

he's obsessed with her

she'd be such a daddy's girl

he is wrapped around her finger

HOWEVER

when she gets older he can and will embarass her whenever she brings a date home

he'd fall 10 times more in love with you

like omg you were already the most perfect person but now you've given him a new reason to live??? are you even real?????

his family would be so helpful

they'd be giggling over him being so stiff holding her in the beginning but they'd help him and be so proud when he finally gets the hang of it

eve will not let up on him abt marrying you

"so when are you getting the ring?" just after she helps him put the baby down for a nap

soon xx

goes without saying that she's got at least one song written about and/or named after her

overall, you love your little perfect family and your little perfect family loves you 🫶🫶

[killersfool]

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. 

[killersfool]

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

Comfort | ROBERT KEATING

thank you for the request !!

PAIRING: robert keating x f!reader

WORDS: 3.4k

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

GENRE: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, fluff

WARNINGS: references to eating disorder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bass."

"Really? That's..."

"So sexy. I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's in Dublin. I'm in Dublin. 

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

"Instagram, please?"

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

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

"Albert."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you lied about the mince pies?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"First red flag."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

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

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

“Yeah, terrifying.” 

“Just tell me. What is it?”

“I love you.”

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

“Christ. Really?” I whisper.

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

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

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