Leawrites

writer/creative creature that loves to talk Requests are open!

[leaawrites]

Masterlistᯓ★

Requests are open!

Look into the tags to see who I'm writing for!

What I'm not writing: death, suicide, SA, smut (occasionally)

Get to know me!

Music

Inhaler

Britpop

Fontaines D.C.

Rockstar Boyfriends

Music Journal/ Side blog

Movie/TV

Harry Potter

Percy Jackson

Gilmore Girls

Sports

F1

ATP Tennis

Series

Short n'Sweet Series

Man's Best Friend Series

Advent Calendar

Silver Threat (Original Work)

You seem pretty sad for a girl so in love series

[leaawrites]

OK I LOVE ITTTTTTTT; Also death wish grew on me but I still prefer the live version. I AM SO EXCITED FOR MY SIGNED VINYL BUNDLE + NOTEBOOK TO ARRIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also something about Gracie always makes me write poetry

[leaawrites]

Reconnecting with nature: not having my headphones in while on the train

[leaawrites]

Your Towel In My Bathroom

Eli Hewson x fem!reader

Summary: after being convinced that her and Eli are just casual and she finds more evidence that confirms the opposite she confronts him about it and finds out that she'd looked past too much

Warnings: very oblivious reader, usage of Eli's full government name, fluff

Wordcount: 0.9k

Masterlist, Inhaler Masterlist

"You have your own towel in my bathroom," she said, opening the blinds to wake him with effect on her hands. The sound echoing in between the four walls like an alarm clock that he forgot to switch off the night before. Looking at his bewildered body trying to function and figure out whether he was still dreaming or if she actually used that to wake him. The harsh light blocking his opportunity to look at her in the early hours like he got used to.

Stood in the middle of the room, dressed in his shirt and a pair of shorts he bought her without her explicitly asking him for it because she thought they were cute but too expensive for that little bit of fabric.

"What?" Eli asked, throwing his hands up and his head back. The landing softened by her pillow that started to smell like him too. Arms stretched high over his head to cover his eyes and make the world go dark and quiet for a few more seconds. "Love, what are you talking about?"

Marching over, sitting on his half of the bed, she pulled her legs up. One of his hands instinctively reaching out for her skin. Pulling it closer until her thigh was pressed against his ribs. Kneading her tense muscles for them to relax while she was still going off.

"You have your own towel and your own side of the closet and your own mug and your own place at the dinner table and your own key. We share a bed as if we don't have one of our own as well, I know your coffee order and you know mine and we bring it to each other without the other having to ask. We know what movies we will both agree on are good or bad and we force the other to watch movies that we like but the other probably doesn't. Your mum called me on Christmas Eve! And mine called you too! And we act like that is completely normal for two people who agreed to be casual," she rambled, hands running through her hair before he caught them and held them to his chest. His heart beating through to her fingertips at the sight of her this enraged about something so simple.

"You think we're still casual?" he asked, grinning with a playful edge. The smirk evolving into a heartfelt laugh as she looked at him with confused shock in her eyes.

Sitting up, bringing his morning sweetness into her mess, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face, he bit his lip from laughing anew into her face. Only a small smile being able to break through. "I thought we were past that the moment I gave you my key and told you to come over any time you liked. Or when I played you songs with your name in them. Or when I told you I loved you for the first time."

Morbid, she pressed her eyes shut, the skin on her forehead creasing at the face she pulled. Praying to some force that she would wake up from a bad dream with some sense knocked into her. Though all she received from the universe was a guy with floppy dark hair kissing her shoulder and giggling into the fabric of her shirt.

"We're not casual," she repeated clearly. The statement falling easier from her lips than she anticipated them. The dreams she had previously to this revelation always made this confession out as something life changing. Though all it was was embarrassing on her side and hilarious on his. "We're actually, seriously dating and very much in love."

Nodding, the grin still breaking through, Eli said, "I am very much seriously in love with you, you stupid angel."

"Bastard," she shot back. "You could've told me, you know. Not leave me hanging and enjoying the show while I'm standing wide eyed next to you whenever you were actively doing boyfriend things in public."

"You looked cute though," he claimed.

Feigning hurt as she pushed his shoulder back. Grabbing her waist, the force of her hand wasn't much but it was good enough to make him fall back onto the mattress. Pulling her down with him, falling into twisted sheets, he kept her close as she tried escaping his hold with giggles bubbling out from deep in her stomach like carbon dioxide or sour candy.

"Alright, Eli, stop," she pushed back, trying to hold onto the bed-sheet to keep him from making her heart leap out of her chest.

"Say it with some confidence, pretty girl," he told her, hovering over her as she stopped fighting his tickle war attempts, pulling her further down by her hips. Eye to eye as he put in his request. "You don't sound like you actually want this to be serious."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to his face, she repeated his words, "I am very much seriously in love with you, Elijah Bob Patricius Guggi Q Hewson, and I would love nothing more than for this to officially be a very serioussly committed relationship."

"Good," he mumbled, leaning down to catch her lips. His chest pressing down against her, the added weight making her ribs widen to savour more air in her lungs though it didn't obstruct her from breathing. He still held himself. "But please don't use the full name again."

"I won't, I promise," she said, pulling him back down. Muttering against his lips, "Guggi Q."

"You're the worst." Shaking his head, Eli couldn't bring himself to actually leave her touch behind.

"You love me."

"I do."

[leaawrites]

I have some works for Noel in the drafts but honestly, with what's going on at the moment, I don't know if I feel comfortable with posting them right now. I will write for him again, but for the next few weeks, the things I've had planned are gonna be rewritten for other people so that I can still post them. We'll see when the Noel works will come back.

[leaawrites]

Alsoooo, new Substack post after a while of nothing over there

[leaawrites]

damon x rockstar!reader who tells him she’s pregnant? probably late 90s/early 2000s, they’ve been dating for a couple years and talked about kids before but never fully discussed it in detail so she’s a bit worried but wants to keep it as she’s ready to settle down? maybe they’re engaged or married! who knows!

Start To Believe

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: finding out she's pregnant couldn't have come at a worse time but even with everything going on, he's still there for her

Warnings: angst, probably made this more angsty than it has to be, fluff, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of doubts and maybe not being ready for a kid

Wordcount: 1.3k

Masterlist, Britpop Masterlist

The sand was still holding on to the rainstorm that passed overnight. His jacket, the one that she patched up a few days ago, kept her pants from getting dirty and the water from leaving stains on the dark washed fabric. It was seven in the morning and the waves caught her up on all she missed while being away. How the wind had turned and now spring would lay low on the distorted figures of weather and bring the anticipated warmth and sun. But nothing about her being felt warm. It was like all she could give was washed away from the shore and she kept holding on to the sand trickling through her fingers by the second.

The castle laid on the hill behind her, not worthy of another look back if it seemed so close in comparison to the far fetched horizon on the other end of the world. Damon's body still tucked away in soft sheets as she left the room, the image from the day before never leaving her alone. Not even as she tried to close her eyes and find a familiar kind of comfort in his warmth.

Who knew that two lines could make that big of a difference?

Whatever was growing inside of her now was something she never thought she could take full responsibility for, especially not now. Not when Damon was already knee deep in his own world again and wouldn't come outside for a few weeks—if not even months—until he found time to breath again. Up until then he would tie down everything that wasn't on the forefront of his mind. And she seemed to draw the short stick more often than not at times like these.

The clearblue was already buried in the trash, the plastic hidden beneath more plastic. Opening every closed package to get the result out of sight. If it was paper she would burn it, act like nothing ever happened, but burning this would mean burning herself and at that thought she wanted to throw up.

Wrapped up in his own confusion, Damon stood still at the beginning of the beach. Staring at her shivering figure, how her head was buried between her arms but her eyes set out on the sea. He had already caught sight of her from their hotel window. The first thing for explanation that came to his mind was the date. The day she despised every year anew, though it was one she could never avoid. However, the closer he got, the clearer it became that the pain was something new—something unknown to both of them.

Recognizing the pattern of his step, she didn't have to look to know that he had found her. Settling down next to her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater, she didn't turn her head to make the red marks underneath her eyes know to him, but he saw them anyways.

"Love," he whispered into the creeping discomfort of her distance. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Letting her collapse into his body like a crumbling building did in the eye of the perfect storm. Without resistance or hesitation. Kissing her head in assurance that he was still with her every few seconds. Transferring his warmth into her shaking limbs.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she weeped in his arms. Digging her fingernails into his arms, clinging to him as if he was the only stone keeping her from falling down the cliff. Shaking from the force at which the sobs left her body. Hiccuping in a violent motion that almost felt like she was choking her heart up her throat. "I should've told you. I know that, but I didn't know how." Lifting her head from the curve that was created through his elbow. The grey fabric of his sweater soaked in dark sheds of misery from her eyes. Her lips shaking as she spoke, not getting out more than a few vocals before losing her breath. "But the damage is done. It's done, Damon. And I didn't tell you about it right away and I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

Sucking in the last bits of euphoria she held within herself at the news before the anxiety could wash it all away, she took his hand. Caressing the soft and thin layer of skin that protected the flesh beneath, she saw it in her mind. The future they had wanted but never talked about. The gentle fear in his hold to break something that he owned entirely. She saw it, how he would hold their little life with the same gently shaking fingers in fear of messing something so delicate up.

"I know that this is bad timing for something like this, but then again, can something like this even be bad timing? And before you try to cut me short, please let me get this out of my system first," she said as she saw his eyes softening in question at her paraphrasing before he nodded in understanding, never leaving her physical nor mental surrounding. "I know how hard you've been working and you know that I wouldn't want anything to come between that—you and your work. But some things you can't control. And if I could control this I probably would've done it at some other point and place in time but I can't and now we're here. On a beach in Los Angeles out of all places for fucks sake."

Turning her head in frustration as if he could give her a comedic relief that he wasn't prepared for. A quiet understanding passed between them. It was now or never, all or nothing. And both of them wanted everything with everything.

"I'm pregnant."

And for him it felt like the world stopped as she muttered those words. An unsure smile wobbling on her face like a newborn trying to walk. The waves crashed against the shore and sounded like the nervous giggles that left his mouth at the revelation. His eyes searching her face for any kind of regret, his gaze moving with the wind in smooth motions, but all he found was a blank page that he had to turn to reveal the real story behind it.

Pulling her into his chest again, he could feel their stomachs pressing against each other. The new addition already pumping new blood through his veins. The feeling of something so small but so monumental pressing against the fear of not being enough for a life like this. A broken breath etched through the silence between them as she crashed into him like a change in the tide into the ocean. Damon's arm falling from her upper-body down to where the fabric of his sweatshirt covered their new found piece of heaven. Slipping his nervous fingers beneath it, pushing the fabric of her pants low enough to feel all of her still in it's given place.

"This could never have a bad timing," he mumbled into her hair. Kissing her head as her fingers dug into his shirt and through to his chest. "Not when it's with you."

"You're not mad?" she whispered, angling her head far enough back to look at him and still feel like she was hiding from something unknown. A certain kind of darkness that neither wanted to acknowledge.

"Of course not, love," he said, shaking his head with determination to make her believe. "We'll manage it—everything. We'll make it work and I won't leave you alone in this. You're never gonna be alone in this."

[leaawrites]

A miracle has happened, German Commentators aren't glazing the shit out of the rat. Never thought I'll witness this day but it has happened

[leaawrites]

cigarette smoke

Noel Gallgher x fem!reader

Summary: after Noel comes back home, the night evolves into new foreign territory and no matter how much she tries to forget him, the cigarette smoke still lingers

Warnings: Noel being a coward, breaking up, abandoning issues, trust issues, rain kiss, angst, happy ending because you voted for it...this could've turned into a Liam fic halfway through as well, I'm just saying if anyone wants my take on that

Wordcount: 2.7k

Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist

Part 1

He hadn't expected her to still be up when he got home shortly past two in the morning, stumbling with a hazy mind on willing feet. A can in his hand that he'd bought in a corner store around the pub, half empty, half filled with the lecture that would await him in the morning if she found the alcohol still etched into his breath and pack in the kitchen.

Stumbling into the living room, trying to find the light switch and a wall to hold on to, Noel stumbled over his own feet before falling forward. Catching the edge of the sofa, catching the side of her face lit by the moonlight. The curtains were still wide open, he only noticed that now. The shadows catching her perfectly, defining her features further. The soft breaths that left her slightly parted lips made her chest move together with her heart. It made him sick, the sight of it. Her so peaceful without his influence. The peacefulness of him not being there with her. The freedom of not having to care for him.

Pushing himself back again, overcome with a sober mind and shaking hands, he let the can fall. The liquid spilling on his pants and shoes and the floor in a way that made it unbearable for her to clean in the morning. It was his mess and for the first time he took care of it. Wetting a cloth and crouching down till his knees hit the floor, scrubbing and cursing in mumbled breaths to not wake her. His hands shook as he moved it over the linoleum in wild gestures, scrubbing the floor and the guilt from his hands until they bled into the soap. The sharp pain feeling deserved under his supervision.

When it was almost invisible again, the floor clean and dried, he moved his feet over it to see if it would make him fall, though it didn't. Washing out the soap and alcohol from the cloth, the world outside seemed more welcome than their shared bedroom. Grabbing his notebook, ripping out a page and leaving one last message, he wrote her one last letter. The last one she'd receive from him for a while. Pushing the too long growing hair out of his face, holding it up to let his mind cool down, he thought it through. It was either causing her more pain by staying or causing her pain by leaving, a wound that would heal with time.

Taking one last look back at her, his clothes pushed into one of the suitcases he got for tour barely letting the top close, notebook and keys in his hand, he made up his mind. The path already paved out in front of his eyes. The door closing behind him, descending down the stairs and into the night. A new life waiting for him that he didn't anticipate coming his way.

When she woke, it felt empty. He wasn't by her side or in the kitchen, passed out on the kitchen floor, or half in bed and half on the edge of it. His shoes weren't by the door anymore, his clothes gone from the dresser, his songwriting book gone from the collection. He left the old ones, those who held the memories and songs about her. It was like he never even lived there. Everything was gone besides the cigarette smoke. The smell of them still lingered everywhere. On her clothes, in the walls, on the cover of the pillows outside on their balcony. His ashtray still stood on the windowsill. His outline was already embedded on the mattress in a way that made it impossible for it to disappear quick enough to keep the pain at bay.

She found his messy, drunk handwriting on the kitchen counter.

'This isn't about you, it's for you. I know that I've been shit and not what you deserve. You shouldn't settle for someone like me. I'm sorry that it had to end like this but you'll see that it's the best thing for both of us. You'll find better because you always do. Everything you touch becomes gold and I felt like treasure under your touch but now I feel like rust that grew between telephones and you don't feel better than I do. We've always been the same when it came to those kind of things. I still love you but I can't let myself ruin you.'

And she felt herself hit the floor before she registered his words fully. The weight of his loss heaving her down till her chest was heaving in search for oxygen. Staring at the ceiling, at the dreams they'd painted on them. The promises they'd made each other over the years. It was all gone now, turned into ashes and smoke through one simple decision.

Months passed and he only returned once, a few days after his first departure when she wasn't home because he knew her work schedule by heart. She noticed it when the rest of his stuff was gone from her place. His guitar wasn't leaned against her wall anymore, dusting away under times' touch. His mug was gone from her cabinet. His toothbrush was thrown into the trash. He came without telling her and left just as such. A ghost she believed to hear in the nights were his silence took over her consciousness.

The last straw came when Liam tried sneaking in on a Tuesday morning. Though, sneaking in in his world meant cursing the door for having a lock and slandering in like it was his own house without taking his shoes off first before he caught her eye across the kitchen counter.

"Noel said, you weren't gonna be here," he offered as an explanation, kicking off his shoes at the sight of her. The familiar key dangling from his fingers. Spinning in circles, making her dizzy the longer she watched it. The same little decorations that she'd bought him in various cities at various times still hanging from the band.

"Called in sick today," she answered, going back to making her tea. Back turned to him as she bit her lip to bite back the tears that threatened to shoot up her eyes and out onto her cheek. Her voice strained from all the times she'd questioned his motive until she noticed there was none. He was just not able to stay.

"Yeah, makes sense," Liam answered, shrugging off his jacket, pushing himself on the kitchen counter next to her. Feet dangling in the air like a child who couldn't reach the floor from its chair. "He doesn't look better ya know. I don't think I've seen him eat in days."

"So he's staying with you?" The bitterness visible staining her tongue as she talked through gritted teeth. A second tea cup being pulled out from the cupboard. A new tea bag thrown inside of it. The boiling water almost as angry as she felt.

"I don't want him there either. Would rather have him here with yer."

"Yeah, well, he left. I didn't make him, gave him no reason to but he still went out the door and decided that that meant that it was over for both of us. He didn't even let me have a say in it," she spit it out. Throwing her hands up and gripping the edge of the table like it might help her stay with both feet on the ground. The tears came slowly, that's why they hurt more once they fell. The clung to her heart until they were washed up by emotions she couldn't control, a tide she had no rules for. "I just don't understand it."

Liam's hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing it once before pulling her into his chest. Letting her find the comfort he wasn't there to give her. "I don't think he understands it himself. He's scared to lose you so he left. Makes no sense but to him in his thick head. Yer know how he is, R'kid."

"What did he sent you here for?" she mumbled, stepping back, wiping the tears from her eyes. Five minutes passed, the tea bags gone from inside the cup. She handed him one without having asked if he wanted one. Liam always wanted one.

"Said that he's still got a few old notebooks here." They were stacked on her bedside table. Read through every night, corners creased and folded and edges damaged through the force of her nails when she had nothing else to blame.

"I'll give them to him if he wants them, he's gonna have to face me and do some explaining." She pushed herself off the counter, walking into her bedroom and coming back a few minutes later with the notebooks tucked away in a bag, jeans on and a jacket over the sweater she wore before as well. "You can stay here if you want to, make yourself at home."

Liam's house wasn't too far from her own, it was probably why Noel chose him as a suited host for his temporary stay. He didn't have to worry about missing the time frame where she was out of the house, the way wasn't too far to decide different and turn back around.

Her knocking was harsher than she anticipated when her fist met the door. The doorbell wet from the rain and too cold for her already freezing fingers. Footsteps could be heard inside and an annoyed groan, before his voice called out, "God, Liam, don't tell me you've lost yer keys again." The door swung open and as soon as he was face to face with her, he quietened down. His body frozen in place. Not blinking like she might disappear if he did.

Liam was right, he looked even worse than her. Red rimmed eyes that lost their colour, pale skin and hollow cheeks. His lips were chapped and dried out. His fingers were shaking too. "What are you-?" he tried before she cut him off. Laughing right into his face, the sound stinging in his heart.

"You actually thought sending Liam to my place to collect your stupid writing was gonna prevent you from getting away from me without an explanation?" she asked, stepping further into his space, getting closer into his face.

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, you never mean anything, Noel, that's the whole fucking point." She pushed past him inside the house, the entrance being an easy one since he didn't try fighting her. There was no point in it, he had no reason to refuse her even more. "You leave, without an explanation but a letter that says nothing to help me understand, you get into my apartment when I'm out and take stuff without my knowledge so that I contemplate whether my place was broken into before I remember what a coward you are. I spent five years on you for you to decide some random Saturday night that I'm not worth the fight. Liam doesn't even want you here!"

"You deserve better," he tried again. The words from the letter not sounding confident on his lips.

"Maybe I do. You know, after this whole thing I really believe I do. But you don't get to decide that, you should talk to me first because I thought we were in love, Noel." The past tense hurt his heart, his chest aching as he drew in a sharp breath. "You left like a coward and I had to stand up for it."

Dumping his books on the coffee table, the familiar sight of them made him reconsider. The content of them still clear in his mind.

"I really hope for you this turns out to be a good decision," she whispered, brushing his shoulder on her way out. The door slamming shut, though this time he was on the receiving end of it.

The rain outside still fell heavily as she made her way down the driveway and back home, talking to Noel never had been worth the trouble. He never answered in an honest way, no matter what was at stake. The splashes of puddles weren't unusual as she walked down the street. The unrequited feeling of turning back was nothing new in situations like this. The arm that caught her elbow was worrying though. The heavy breathing coming from the person behind her wasn't calming her mind either and the force with which she spun around was too fast to catch a glimpse of him before she swatted his arm away. Only feeling regret surging through her bones when Noel stood in his t-shirt in the dreary weather.

"Shit, Noel," she cursed him out. Crossing his arms over her chest, shoulders pulled up to her ears. "What's wrong with you?"

"Everything," he said, eyes blinking against the water that tried to enter. He had nothing left inside, nothing tied him to her and that somehow made it easier to talk. Whatever happened, she already hated him anyway. "Everything is so fucking wrong with me. I don't know why I left, I just felt so scared seeing you asleep that night and you not looking like something was missing. I wanted you to miss me. And I know that that is not the right way to handle it but I've never known anything else. I've never known better than to run. It's what my mother did. It's what made life turn around in a good way, but this—seeing you leaving and knowing that nothing between us means anything anymore—this isn't the good way. It's so far from the good way." Breathing through his words, he didn't wait for her to answer before he continued. "And I know you probably hate me and I know that I deserve it, I truly do, but I don't want this to be last time I see you. Not like this, knowing that everything is now turning bad about us in your head—all the memories and stories—because we were good. Fuck, we were so good."

"Noel," she started, cutting him off, swallowing the lump in the throat that he had shoved into her the moment he left her with the letter and a ghost in the house.

"We don't have to be lovers again, you probably don't love me anymore. Which is fine, I deserve it. But at least not let us be strangers."

"Noel," she said his name again, stepping forward, taking his head in her hands. His hands instinctively moving over her touch. Holding her as if she might slip away if he didn't. "I don't think I could ever stop loving you. I don't know why, but you've got me good and I wouldn't change a thing about it. But I'm not letting you back in like nothing happened, I'm not letting you run around like a toddler while you leave me laying on the side of the road like an abandoned stuffed animal."

"I'll be better, I promise." The words held no hesitation as he spoke them. His voice was shaking as he spoke, the honesty ripping through his walls. "I won't let you feel unimportant to me again. I'm sorry that I ever did."

"You're gonna have to work for it," she whispered, biting her lip as he nodded eagerly.

"Day and night," he promised before lowering his head. Lips moving in synchronization, his dry ones mixing with the water and biting through her soft skin. The feeling she thought she'd never be allowed to have again now filling her whole soul.

"You move back in with me, Liam's already complaining about you."

"I'll bring the stuff back when you're at work."

And somehow his teasing edge made her heart ache in a good way. The cigarette smoke still lingering on his clothes, a smell she still knew. It was a good sign. Having him back in her arms was a good conclusion.

[leaawrites]

Got caught up starting a new crochet piece that I wasted half of my day on that turned out to be too tight so I had to restart it and basically did not write when I should've so I really don't know when the Noel fic will come out. Trying to get it done tonight and will probably post it around 1 or 2 am CEST

[leaawrites]

where tf did all your likes go?? your writing is INSANE ❤️ inhalertumblr is so down and dead and there's like four of us holdin the fort 💪 legit u should have awards lea ur stuff is amazing 👏 can we all clap pls

Gabi, I love youuuuu!!! You really don't understand, I adore you omg.❤️❤️❤️🫶🏼❤️😭😭😭😚😚⭐️🫶🏼💌❤️❤️But true, even when the likes don't bother me that much (although it's a bit demotivating tbh) but Inhalertumblr is soooo dead. I really miss seeing these guys on every single post that's being shown to me.

[leaawrites]

(these days I've got) expectations

Bobby Skeetz x fem!reader

Summary: She met Bobby on the boardwalk in the summer trying to get over a past love, and what started as a nightmare set in reality turned into them running wild

Warnings: men, fluff, this is fun, essentially like a good old romcom that has too many punchlines and is moving way too fast into an outcome that is the most predictable ever and I love it, aka me being unhinged with some of these lines

Wordcount: 2.4k

Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist

How long can one believe in something until it becomes hopeless?

"And you've been in that business for how long?" she asked over the bumping music. Her heart-rate slowing with every beat that he moved to. Grinning and showcasing his yellow teeth as he leaned over the counter into her direction. The switching lights making his face appear more attractive than it normally would be.

"Oh, a few months," he answered, half of his drink falling out of his cub, down on the floor by her feet. "Since April this year. Straight out of college into the working space, you know. I'm one of the last remaining real men out here actually working."

"And you're already the third highest paid?" she asked, too impressed to believe him. Stepping back from the cloud of alcohol and weed that surrounded him, distancing herself from the answer that he'd probably give.

"My dad owns the company."

"Of course he does."

Looking over the dancefloor, over the endless sea of heads, she caught sight of her friend carelessly moving against one of his friends. Back pressed against his chest, hands in places where they felt entitled to be.

The night had started slow, stretching like an old piece of chewing gum and trying to get the last use out of it. Though the cue to spit it out never came. Or she must've missed it when she was introduced to the guy still looking at her with wide eyes as if she was actively talking or had grown a third head. His eyes trailing down to where the cut of her shirt was low enough to offend a priest in church. It wasn't vigorously suggestive or teasing, it was a low cut shirt. And still, he gave himself the right to stare like she might rip the fabric off completely if only he looked for long enough.

Crossing her arm over her chest, acting like she fixed an earring that she didn't own, urging his eyes to snap back up again. The grin returning, his body tumbling further her way. His lips pressing together messily. Eyes closed, balance unlearned. Gravity taking over his lacking mental state and making his tip forward first. The rest of his body following suit.

Instinct took over before she could think it through, the adrenaline making her retreat from the scene without a second thought. Bumping into three other bodies while she tried escaping the one that almost hit her. Apologizing without a target. Fleeting without a final destination in mind.

The last thing she heard was a collective groan and complaints from the people around them, the dull thud of his figure hitting the floor and the splash of him landing in the drink he spilled on her heels a few minutes earlier.

The crowd was closing in on her as she found the exit, the door seemingly moving further away as she tried reaching it. Her words swallowed by nauseous, the alcohol and her friends earlier promises coming back up her throat. 'You'll find someone here that will make you forget. In the end, the only was to get over someone is to get under someone else.' And even though all she wanted was to forget the man that left her sitting in the middle of a restaurant at Christmas Eve because he couldn't forget the elf-stripper that had served them at their companies Christmas party, the desperation wasn't as gnawing as to get into bed with someone like that.

Leaning over the first bush that came her way, emptying out the advice and memories from the last half year, she tried standing with a clear head. The world was still spinning and tipping over every few steps she walked towards the boardwalk, though it stopped feeling dull. The music was treating through the walls to her stumbling body. The water seemed deep enough for her to never reach the end of it.

"I hope you don't think about jumping," a voice said behind her. Chuckling uncomfortably, worry lacing his vocal chords as she still stood at the edge of the pier. Her body swaying dangerously enough for him to take his hands out of his pockets and step closer. "I doubt that I would be much of a help if you did."

Straightening her spine, she tried swallowing down the words that wouldn't come out her mouth. Her head falling to the side in disappointment. "You wouldn't dive after me?"

"I think I'd drown with you. My swimming skills are worthless. My mother still isn't sure how I got my swimming badge." He took another step forward, his brown hair catching her attention as it was accentuated through the brightly shining lamp post that he now stood under. "I'd still try to save you, though I wouldn't want to test your chances of surviving. Neither do I want to test mine."

"Are you an angel?" she asked, voice slurring as her eyesight got sharper. The fresh air helping her sober up quicker. Reaching out, tapping his shoulder with the tip of her finger to make sure that he was actually stood in front of her. The sudden contact making her stumble back, back bending under the force.

His hand shot out, catching her wrist, pulling her into his chest before she could be pulled down into a tidal wave. Breathing against her, her eyes seeming brighter under the light they now shared.

"Not an angel," she mumbled.

"Not an angel," he agreed.

Moving her to a bench to sit while she was still moving before her mind could thinking her actions through. Sitting her down, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over her bare arms already decorated with goosebumps and shivers running through her muscles.

"What do you do?" she asked before she let herself settle too far into something with someone who turned out to be just like all the others.

"I'm a musician," he answered, sitting down next to her. No hesitation, no second thought as to what could be the right answer.

"Oh no! Not another one of you!" Throwing her head back, eyes shut tight in agony. Legs straightening in frustration, her heels forcefully connecting with the boardwalk and a loud thudding sound. Hands slapping over her eyes, the theatrics overflowing her system as she let out a desperate groan.

Laughing at her reaction, pulling his eyebrows together in confusion, he asked, "Another one of what?"

"You call yourself a musician but in the end all you do is some mid EDM remixes of Top 20 hits and upload them to Soundcloud and occasionally play at some old friends or relatives birthday party that you basically get paid nothing but free food and drinks that would be free anyway, no? People that say that are usually using it as an excuse so that they don't have to confess that they've got no job. You know, it's almost like a fake job," she explained further, the thought of all the past answers she'd receiving forcing her nerve-system wide awake. Sobering up in a matter of seconds.

"You've met guys with fake jobs?" he continued, intrigued by her stories.

"It's exhausting." Shaking her head, hands falling from her face. Neck tipped back far enough to catch the stars twinkling in the sky above them.

"I'm in a band. A serious one. We're recording our fourth album now so, kind of in the middle of a break from touring," he explained, reaching into the pocket of the jacket that she still wore. Her head snapping towards him as his fabric clad fingers moved over her arm by accident.

Taking out a lighter, he moved it to the side. The letters printed on it in pitch black spelling out a word she had never associated with a band, neither a lighter. Inhaler. The irony wrote itself.

"The trademark R was my idea," he presented proudly. Finger moving underneath each letter as he let her read it twice.

"You're in a band," she repeated, finally believing him.

"I'm the bassist. You know, the guy with the rhythm."

"I know what a bassist does. I'm not illiterate."

"Not like some people in there."

Laughing in agreement, she let her head tip back to the side. Hitting his shoulder. His hand placing the lighter back into the jacket pocket.

"So, bassist of a band called Inhaler that sells lighters as merch. What's your name."

"Bobby," he answered. "Well, actually it's Robert but nobody really calls me that anymore."

"Robert," she repeated. Trying it out. Nodding in satisfaction. Giving him her own without request. "Have you ever been to a to a Christmas party and fallen in love with a stripper dressed as an elf and then decided to break up with your partner of five years?"

Slightly confused, slightly disturbed, he answered, "No. Is this a personal thing or just a hypothetical question?"

"Hypothetical," she said, calmer now that she'd gotten his answer. Looking out into the horizon. "We were together for seven years actually."

"What the fuck?"

"The bar was low," she acknowledged. "When you're fifteen you don't question a lot of things about a person. And at some point they just become normal. Whatever I do, however many times I might tell myself that I don't need someone to love and for them to love me, it truly is something that I can't seem to let go. I want someone to love me."

"You'll find someone. Not everyone's dumb and blind at the same time."

"I think the alcohol was pretty good even when it tasted like dish cleaning soap." Her eyes fluttered shut with every second that passed them by.

"Do you have your place around her?"

"Yeah, on the other side of the river." She pointed towards one of the high standing buildings opposite them. The bright lights reflecting on the water. The stars visible from their point of view but not for those still in the middle of the busy streets downtown.

"Alright, lets get you home."

The car ride was silent beside the low humming of the radio. She endured it for a few moments before searching for her phone. Typing in the name of his band with blurry vision hindering her exploration. Connecting it with the car and tapping on the top song with more force than necessary.

The change in melody being one he recognized right away.

"Oh no," he tried turning it off. His hand already halfway to the power button before she swatted his hand away.

"Oi, I'm listening to this," she conquered. Shaking her head at him and turning it louder instead. Her foot tapping the beat.

"I can hear you," she whispered three songs later. Opening one eye that had closed halfway into Perfect Storm, his voice breaking through the front vocals clearer than on any previous song.

"Now you know why I don't sing," Bobby joked, brushing off the awkward feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach the second she insisted on playing their music.

"You're good," she said without paying his humour any mind.

"There is a song where I sing," he confessed after a second of silence.

"What's it called?"

"Strange Time To Be Alive. It's on the first album."

Searching for it, her eyelids heavy and protesting against the bright pixels, she played it next. Relaxing further into the seat of his car. "You should sing more often. Maybe you can sing for me someday," was the last thing she said before her eyes closed again and she focused on his words enough to drift away into them.

"Maybe someday," he mumbled back. Turning the volume down to a comfortable number and moving her chair further back to leave less for her neck to complain about the moment she'd wake up again. The address of her place tapped into the GPS.

He had searched for her keys before he left the car to carry her up the flight of stairs. Her apartment number conveniently still on him mind from when he planned ahead and asked her for it when she typed in her address. Opening the door with a quiet creak and searching for her bedroom without making too much noise or moving too hastily to wake her. Settling her down, taking off her shoes and his jacket, draping the blanket over her body to keep her warm and the headache in the morning at bay. Pushing back a few strands of hair that stuck to her face, she leaned into his touch instinctively. Mumbling a quiet, absentminded, "stay," before burying her face in her pillow.

Letting his head fall in surprise at how the night ended, he made his way back into the living room. Eyes fixating on the entrance door before he shook his head. Pushing off his own shoes and settling on her sofa. Watching the city breathing late at night before his eyes closed off as well.

Who knew that hope could be restored by one incidental meeting?

Bonus:

The sun was bright through the still open curtains, blinding her as her eyes were still shut. Groaning into her bedding, swearing herself out at the soreness of her feet from the shoes she wore the night before and the alcohol that was responsible for the headache she now had to carry around for the rest of the day.

Stumbling out her bedroom, the new presence only caught her attention when her foot got caught up by one of his shoes abandoned in the middle of the room. Letting out a surprised scream that made him wake from his sleep and sit up in a matter of seconds.

"You're still here," she noticed, pointing at him. Running her hands through her hair to tame it a bit as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes now too to see her clearly.

"You asked me to."

"I did?"

"Yes, half unconcious but you asked."

"And you listened?"

"Yes."

"Fuck, you might be perfect," she groaned as she fell into the empty space next to him.

Laughing at her statement, he got more comfortable again too. "You want to get breakfast? My treat since I got to sleep here for free."

"Let me marry you."

"Don't say that so soon. You haven't seen me eat yet. What if I disgust you with the way I eat, you can't take something like that back then anymore."

"Good point," she agreed. "Lets get food."

[leaawrites]

New Noel fic on Friday...

Sad angsty ending or fluffy hopeful ending?

Ending for Noel

Sad and angsty

Fluffy and hopeful

Voting ended onJul 11

[leaawrites]

Why do Mafia\Cop movies always habe to be 4 hours long????

[leaawrites]

less

Jack Draper x fem!reader

Summary: What's broken cannot be fixed if neither have the right tools for it.

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. I miss him.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist

What is broken can be fixed, though whatever they'd tried nothing made the cracks disappear in their facade.

Her suitcase laid open on the wooden panel floor by her feet. Clothes thorn and strewn across the apartment outline. His cologne lingering in every corner of her life. The bathroom still held his shadow behind the shower curtain and his products behind the mirror. The too small hallway still held pictures of them that she couldn't get herself to take down. There were clothes of him that he forgot in her closet, the drawer that she cleaned up for him still dedicated to his stuff. The flowers he'd bought her slowly wallowing away on her kitchen isle.

His last words still clung to the walls, closing in on her with every moment she spent sitting on the edge of the bed they used to share, head in her hands. His side slowly fading into a cold memory. His memory making her nauseous. The sheets hadn't been changed by her since he left and closed the door on them. She'd heard the ragged breathing of his out in the hallway through the door, hand on the lock, wanting to run after him but every outcome would be the same game of chess they couldn't win.

There was too much of him in the good parts of her memories. Jack always had a way of turning grey skies blue and now she was drowning in their shared sadness. The darkness that wrapped itself around them over the last few weeks crept up her spine and dressed her in sorrow from head to toe. Every head that turned her way turned for a reason and every time they did, she caught their eye in hopes of one of them being his.

He noticed that something was wrong before she could admit it to herself, though neither could pinpoint where exactly they went wrong. He noticed the forced smiles and the split seconds of hesitation when their lips met in a kiss. He noticed the way she curled into herself rather than into his side late at night; how she woke, sweating and torn from peace because of a nightmare and didn't wake him seeking comfort. He still woke every time, though he never tried forcing his care on her already bending back. He noticed how she used to say that it would fix itself in time but nothing ever got better between them. He noticed the quiet sobs and red eyes in the morning and once he caught the tears, they didn't seem to stop flowing.

Forcing himself to accept their fate, he walked out before either could turn their back too far towards the problems that blocked their path to happiness and fall into a tunnel of self-unraveling. He walked out before she fully fell apart at the tips of his fingers.

No excuses or words of exception falling from his lips as they talked it out, the balcony door open to let in the quiet hallows of the night. No apologizes passed between them, they both knew that they were of no use from their stances.

"I never make a grand festive out of birthdays," she confessed when he'd first asked her how she wanted to spent her one dedicated special day of the year. "I think the intimacy is what makes it special." And even when it was a lie in order to hide the truth—how she'd usually sit in the darkness and cry herself to sleep to forget another year wasted on a lack of success—Jack had been the break in a cycle that seemed endlessly repetitive. He'd been the reason why she blew out the candles with a hopeful wish on her lips and an excited smile aimed towards the future.

Aimed towards a future shared and spent with him.

All that had become true now was the dark thought on the back of her mind that it wouldn't last forever. Something about luck was always foul. Something about him had always told her that what they had was temporary. His love had never felt like something she could get used to for too long to bathe in it fully.

The candles were still unlit on the cake he'd ordered a month prior.

Dragging herself out of bed, towards the kitchen counter where it was neatly placed after she received it from a grinning middle-aged blonde by her front-door in the morning, the image of the frosting smashed against the wall lingered in her mind, though the cursive 'Happy Birthday' and the heart drawn next to it only brought a new wave of heartbreak over her. No note that came with it because he was sure that he'd still be there when it would be delivered. And somehow that made her want to throw up more than his loss alone.

Unable to hold herself up on shaking legs, she brought it down on the living room table.

The flame flickered against her heavy breathing, two hands guiding it towards the stub out of carefulness. Catching fire, lighting up the room in a soft glow that made it feel too comforting for her to find the comfort in it. The warmth was a force she hadn't prepared for in rooms that let goosebumps appear on her arms and legs. Warming her up enough to breath in for the first time since they parted ways in a final evaluation.

Closing her eyes, watching him appear in bits and pieces through old remembrances that she'd locked away for quiet times, she gathered her last breath that she would hold for him deep inside her chest. Straightening her spine, his voice called out to her in faint echoes.

"I wish, I wish, I wish," she mumbled against the delicate flame. "I wish you loved me less."

Blowing out the candles, blowing smoke into the ghost of him, she was left in darkness illuminating her. The moon peeking through the drawn curtains. Holding her as she slumped against the cushion and curled into the last remaining nuances of him.

If only love wouldn't hurt as much as it did. If only loving her didn't have to be as painful as it turned out to be every single time she bared herself to it. She believed him to be the break in the prophecy but all he was able to change was the epilogue of the tragedy. All he had done different was that she still loved him with no bad blood running between them.

What was broken couldn't be fixed if neither had the right tools for it.

[leaawrites]

what's wrong with me

Conor Curley x fem!reader

Summary: when a sickness turns into a revelation of feelings and the only way to heal it is to leave behind what brought it up in the first place. Him.

Warnings: angst, breaking up, mentions of sickness, allusions to depression but it's not really depression

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist

The ceiling was spinning as nothing seemed to move forward. Wallowing in her own sweat drenched clothes, appointments were falling behind their schedule. The phone too far away for her to cancel on those who care and to call the one who deserves it. But nothing made her move. Nothing made her reconsider. Nothing but the crack of overhead speakers that called out her name and a room number.

The hall she walked down seemed like an entrance to her own doom. Each door closed to keep despair private and revelations secluded. The phone in her pocket buzzed again, the familiar feeling creeping up her throat again. Over her ribs and through her eyes. The pain blurring her vision until she stumbled blindly into the space filled with insight into her own body.

Diagrams of the ideal person hanging from the ceiling and all she could see was what she was not. The organs in their stomachs all ordered neatly while all she felt were knots and holes in her chest. The food on her tongue always tasting bad, the sleep never coming over her in a way that felt like she was resting. Rather, she was building a bridge between reality and what she wanted reality to be in that time where she closed her eyes and couldn't see him beside her anymore.

Fiddling with the ring he gifted her for Christmas a year ago, the band already looking worn and scratched from the amount of time anxious feelings were eating her up from the inside out. The leather felt like it might melt with her as she sat down in it. Waiting, waiting for her grand revelation and a sick-leave for work.

"Good morning," the doctor said as she walked into the room. Rushed and already stressed even when it was at 10 in the morning. "Sorry, long shift already." Laughing as the doctor shifted through her papers and documents, she tried laughing with her but nothing more than a choked out endeavor of cruelty came out. "Alright, how are you doing?"

"I- I don't know. Not good, I guess," Cringing at her own answer, she tried combing through her thoughts for something that made sense. Something that they could work with. "Sorry, I've just not been feeling like myself for a while. It's a bit like there's a shadow over me the whole time and it won't let me go. I probably should rather go to a therapist with this but this feels like more than something mental. My appetite's not been as it used to be, I'm barely hungry these days. Barely eating. He's been trying to get me to eat but nothing feels like I could stomach it."

"He?" The doctor asked as she noted down the symptoms on her computer.

"My boyfriend. He's been really great, I just- I can't get myself to feel any of it."

The doctor's fingers halted in the middle of a word, his relation to her. Looking up, over the rim of her glasses, with a sympathetic look in her eyes. Fingers curling up into a fist as if to create space between them, not wanting to step too close to her heart.

"I don't think this might be about a sickness, at least not in the traditional sense. I'm not a therapist but I've lived through a few emotions in my life too and this doesn't sound like something caused by bacteria or a broken bone. This sounds like a matter of the heart," she smiled with pity making her lip quiver. "You should go talk to him about it, if whatever you have is truly something that someone like me could cure, and if it is then make another appointment, but I doubt you'll come back with the same problem the next time you are here."

"I do love him," she said, not sure of who she tried to convince by her statement.

"You seem pretty sad for a girl so in love."

The air outside seemed more pressing than the grey clouds that seemed to almost burst at the seams with rain above her head. Walking down streets with crossed arms and ignoring signs to the underground stations she'd usually take home to him. Giving up time spent with him in exchange for a new route build for new thoughts. The last evaluation of her symptoms coming from her common sense rather than the content of a book that someone learned by heart.

Feet moving over pavement like waves over the ocean ground. Building up storms in her step, fluent motions of pushing through crowds and hiding behind post lamps for security. Catching street signs as goal points. Throwing off his promises that held little to no weight in her heart anymore.

When she got home he was already there. Waiting patiently with hope in his eyes. Watching her as she moved with straightened knees and pushed back shoulders, fingers still fidgeting but her mind seemed clearer. The storm that brewed behind her eyes the weeks before now turned into a slight drizzle of rain.

"I'm taking this as a good sign," Curley said, pushing his chair back and standing up. Making his way over, holding her hands when she moved them in front of her hips. "What did she say? You got a prescription or anything?"

"I think you're what's wrong with me," she said, holding his hands tighter as she confessed her sickness that he couldn't cure even if he tried to. Ripping off the bandage he'd tried to apply and stick to her since they started going out but nothing could make her heal if the cause was still within her vicinity. "The doctor said, that I was fine but I don't think I am. I don't think we're fine."

Realization that the truth couldn't be pushed back anymore filled his eyes. Head hanging low as he nodded in understanding. They both knew that their time had come. It was just a question of when the strip of film would run out for them to edit the faux-pas out.

"I know, I've felt it too." Leaving one last kiss on her knuckles, Curley brought them down to her side again. Leaving her hanging with a gentle touch that lingered. "So, this is it now."

"This is it."

Nodding once more, he leaned his head back. Staring at the ceiling like it could beam him up and save him from the heartbreak that would still come after the revelation. Even when they knew it would come, the blow still hurt.

"I'll go to Grian's for the night and get my stuff tomorrow. When you're at work."

"You can stay, maybe just one more time and I can help you clean up and gather your stuff. I don't want this to feel like I can't stand you. I don't think I could let you go if I didn't help you pack."

"Alright."

Getting to work, the night was filled with nostalgia and a sense that not every ending had to be of bad origin.

[leaawrites]

begged

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Summary: coming home late once more without an explanation, the long list of her begging for his love is slowly running out of space for her to keep on filling it up

Warnings: angst, mentions of breaking up, Theo being a tiny bit toxic, crying, trust issues,

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist

The stone facade that the house was made out of let the warm air from outside get stuck in the wall. It made it stay and haunt and it made her long for an open window somewhere along the grey walls. But everything she could do only made it feel like she did it to abandon him. Him and the scent of his nicotine addiction that he'd promised her to take care of, though all she saw when she woke up in the middle of the night was the empty side of his bed and his silhouette in the doorway, smoke lingering around him like a halo or a picture of some old mystic tale.

Theo had done it enough times to fathom a new habit, one he carried on his own without her knowledge. But she could smell it in the creaks of the floorboard or in the splintered edges of the antique ceiling. Everything that she had to offer was something he had millions of and everything that she wanted from him seemed to be unattainable for the man who could buy her the world.

"You're late again," she muttered under her breath as she forced her eyes to stay open amidst the hurting brightness of the TV screen. Not turning to greet him, not trying to hide her disappointment in his behavior.

"I know. I'm sorry, love," Theo said, shrugging off his jacket and organizing his shoes before walking over, kissing her head as if it could tell her all that she wanted to hear. Their transmission having long been lost in translation of each other.

"What's been keeping you up this time?" she dared to ask.

Turning fast enough to catch a glimpse of the walls that rebuild itself every time a question like this occurred before he reminded himself that she was the one who asked, not someone worth of silence.

He hesitated for a second. The second passing by too long to seem unintentional. He hesitated because of who asked. And when complication met complication, the effect of the hit couldn't be softened by make pretend that everything was going fine.

"I was out with the guys," Theo answered, watching his fingers fiddle with the tea bag rather than her disappointed stare. Rolling her eyes and biting her tongue to keep hurtful words that could pierce like daggers from coming out. "I should've called you, I know. I just forgot."

"You seem to always forget, Theo. Always," she cut through his guilt with honesty. "No matter how many times you may apologize and say you'll do better, you never do."

"You know that this isn't easy for me. You knew what you were getting yourself into from the beginning, I've always been transparent about the struggles that I bring with me," he it back. His own defense mechanism that he'd hoped to have abandoned for her love, coming back around in the worst of times. Times like these.

"I know and I've been patient and held myself back from saying something so many times but at some point begging feels draining. My patience is running out, Theo. We're running dry, just admit it." Stepping forward, her arms crossed over the too big shirt that hung from her frame. Pushing the fabric closer to her skin, alerting her senses in the most sensitive way. His cologne rising from the collar to her nose. "I've given you three years and you still don't let me in. I know, shit's been fucked up for you but I'm supposed to be the person you trust with whatever is wrong. I'm supposed to be the person you love enough to show them your true, honest feelings and deepest fears. Have I ever done anything that didn't made you able to confine in me?"

"Bella, please. I'll be better, I promise. Just—" Running his hands through his hair, pushing the unjustifiable anger to the back of his mind. "Just give me a bit more time. I'm trying, I truly am."

Turning away to not get caught in the storm that was brewing in his eyes and saving herself from being pulled into his tide by the waves. She let out a breath he knew the meaning behind all too well.

Gently taking ahold of her hips, pulling her back against his chest. He kissed her head without holding back on the feelings he had a hard time expressing normally. Not wanting to lose her over his own problems.

"I'll be better, I promise," he mumbled against her hair. Holding her through the wrecked breathing and quiet sobs, carrying her into their shared bedroom and laying with her, soothing out the crumbling edges that he'd caused, until her breath evened out and she was curled into his side peacefully.

It's a virtue to not let good love slip away.