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mortuarybees · 5 years

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Youre a florence fan so you probably already noticed but 'all this and heaven too' is such an aziraphale song

oh i am very aware my friend i think about it every goddamn day. and it’s a tuesday morning at the end of summer so we are going to take this opportunity to discuss other florence songs that are Them. on occasion we scream about this in the groupchat, credit to my dear comrades @genderqueercrowley @saaliyah @aziraphvle @femmeaziraphale and @philosapphor

all this and heaven too as you said is the aziraphale song. i can’t even quote it because every word of it is literally his arc. i would give all this and heaven too to understand this love i feel, to tell you what i feel for you, i just can’t manage to say it right, i trip over the words, i say it wrong, i run away, and this is too important for my inadequate tongue, and god, i would give everything, my divinity too, to just say it right, even once. also like aziraphale thinking about how the heart speaks in “the grand deeds of great men and the smallest of gestures” about all the things crowley does for him like………………..it gets me lads

i’ve said it before….heavy in your arms is the angstier The Aziraphale Song. “Is it worth the wait, all this killing time? / Are you strong enough to stand protecting both your heart and mine?” makes me so wild ‘is it worth the wait?’ is literally the title of my angsty pining aziraphale playlist, because god, aziraphale doubts that it is. he sees crowley waiting for him, patient, so goddamn patient, never pushing, never prodding, doing the legwork to keep their friendship, their love, alive, because aziraphale is afraid to even look at it square, recognize what it means to him; am i worth all this? am i worth this wait? can you stand it? what if this is all i can give you? could you stand it? does it hurt, carrying all this? ‘my love has concrete feet,’ crowley, ‘my love’s an iron ball, wrapped around your ankles over the waterfall,’ my love could destroy you. ‘this will be my last confession, ‘i love you’ never felt like any blessing, whispering like it’s a secret,’ low voices in a car in soho, bathed in pink light, handing it over with trembling hands, crowley’s hope, rising, for the first time in a long time, i’ll give you a life, anywhere you want to go, ‘only to condemn the one who hears it with a heavy heart,’ you go too fast for me, crowley. this is all there is, crowley, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, it could destroy you. don’t go unscrewing the cap. hold it in your hands, know it’s there, but please, don’t go unscrewing the cap. “I was a heavy heart to carry / my beloved was weighed down / my arms wrapped around his neck / my fingers laced to crown / i was a heavy heart to carry / but he never let me down / when he had me in his arms, / my feet never touched the ground” like. god crowley takes care of him, he’s never once let him down, never pushed him to give him anything he wasn’t comfortable with except literally something to protect himself in case all that love he gave him got him into trouble, and like. god when aziraphale lets himself really look at the magnitude of all that love.

Moderation is so crowley it kills me. “Want me to love you in moderation / do i look moderate to you?” like. you go too fast for me crowley, but, how am i supposed to slow down? how am i supposed to love you less, quieter, slower, i feel it burning inside me, this constant buzzing under my skin, reaching for you, ‘you got me searching for validation’ this is what i am, aziraphale, “I never made it with moderation / no, i never understood,” even in heaven, aziraphale, even before all these jagged edges, ‘bow your head in the house of god, / little girl, who do you think you are?’ i’ve always been this, i don’t know any other way, please, i’m so full of it, “can’t hold it back / can’t take the tension / oh, i’m trying to be good / want me to love you in moderation / oh, don’t you know, i wish i could” i wish i could slow down for you, stop asking for more than you want to give, and i’m trying, i really am, but i don’t know how. i don’t know how to slow down. i’m trying to be good, aziraphale, it’s that quintessential gut-wrenching line we all write, ‘I didn’t want to go too fast for you.’

Haunted House is just like. god all that repression. florence really wrote an azcrow ep months before the show dropped. aziraphale is an angel, he’s not supposed to have doubts or desires, he’s not supposed to love, even, really, beyond that general, all-encompassing sort of benevolent love, that love of God through Her creations. he’s certainly not supposed to love a demon, and fuck, that scares him. “My heart is like a haunted house / there’s things in there that scratch about / they make their music in the night / and in the day they give me such a fright,” and it’s easy, when he’s with crowley, to forget all that. it’s easy to forget his duties, easy to give in, let himself be blushing and selfish and in love and loved, but when crowley isn’t there, it’s harder. the doubt comes in, the fear, heaven’s party line, yet still, “wish i could find a way to let them out” it’s that all this and heaven too shit, that fuck, i would give anything to give myself over to it, understand what i feel and what you’re giving to me, give you the same in return shit. and oh, the melancholy of “do you remember, / winding your arm around my shoulder? / as we wandered round the hill? / now i’m in that fog forever, / in full collaboration with the weather, cause / i’m not free yet, i’m not free yet, i’m not free yet, i’m not free yet, i’m not free at all” god it’s so much the bandstand, all those lovely memories they share, those stolen moments, all that love, you see it naked in his eyes when crowley asks him to run away, for a moment, it is enough, because it’s everything, it’s all he has, for a moment, it’s like he does understand it all, grasps it in his hand, fragile, but then he remembers. i’m not free at all, or maybe–and god this gets me, the way florence sings it, with the lilting oohs, because it sounds like i’m not free at all, but it also sounds like, i’m not free yet. not yet.

Big God is so crowley. “You need a big god, / big enough to hold your love / you need a big god / big enough to fill you up,” because there’s this grace-shaped hole in Crowley, and like. i’m a firm disciple of the crowley doesn’t regret falling church, that it hurt and hell sucks, but he’s proud of it, he’s proud that he broke away from heaven, even if he didn’t mean to, and sometimes he entertains the what if, what if i were an angel too, could things be different, if we were on the same side? but it’s still that horrible hole, that rejection, and there’s both this cavernous need in him and this great font of overflowing love, and he needs somewhere to put it. it’s that glass essay, “you remember too much / my mother said to me recently / why hold onto all that? and i said, / where can i put it down?” it’s that fleabag, “I don’t know what to do with it. with all this love i have for her. I don’t know where to put it now.” he aches with all the things he’s lost, even if he doesn’t want them back; it’s hard, sometimes, to remember the reasons you left someone or something once you’re gone, especially if where you go isn’t much better. sometimes, it’s easier to remember the good, to get you through the bad, and i think that’s part of what has crowley so shuttered in rome, after the crucifixion. he was a son of god too, once, and just like christ, god through him under the bus. let him suffer for some great cosmic plan, like it’s all part of the plan is supposed to make the holes in his hands hurt less. but then aziraphale finds him, drinking this shitty wine in this shitty bar in this shitty place, and he sees that he’s hurting, and he reaches out, invites him to lunch. it’s boo saying “I’ll take it,” all that love you had for her, “no, i’m serious. it sounds lovely. I’ll have it.” and he’s saying, for the next two thousand years, “shower your affection, let it rain on me / don’t leave me on this white cliff / let it slide down to the sea;” if you want my love, you can have it, you can have it all, every bit of it, but please, don’t leave me hanging. don’t let me dangle / at a cruel angle / where my feet don’t touch the floor. but he understands, he does. he was once exactly where aziraphale was, trapped with nowhere to go, and he understands how hard it is to find choices when heaven is so committed to making you think you have none. “You keep me up at night / to my messages, you do not reply,” and that stings, that aziraphale isn’t quite where he is yet, but he does understand, “I still like you the most / you’ll always be my favorite ghost.” I can wait, I can wait.

because these have been so painful, we’re doing You’ve Got the Love next i know it’s a cover, but still. god it’s complicated and it hurts sometimes, but the love they have is so strong and so beautiful; if it wasn’t, it would’ve collapsed under all that weight. The apocalypse comes, and they get each other through it. “Sometimes I feel like saying ‘Lord, I just don’t care,’ / but you’ve got the love i need to see me through.” When they get low, have doubts, get scared, they’re both there to pick each other up. We can do this, together, I’m here for you. “Sometimes, it seems like the going is just too rough / and things go wrong no matter what I do,” all the times aziraphale has gotten himself in these situations, the bastille, the church, all the times crowley’s own demonic wiles have come to bite him in the ass, “Now and then, it seems that life is just too much,” what the fuck is crowley supposed to do about a demonic ring of fire around the whole of London? what’s he supposed to do with that?? satan rises from the earth, what are they supposed to do about that! aziraphale has a flaming sword but he hasn’t fought in millennia and satan is the size of a goddamn skyscraper. this is satan himself, they are fucked, “But you’ve got the love I need to see me through,” crowley always shows up to save him, just in time, and you cannot tell me crowley wasn’t clinging to that love, his desperation to get to the end of the world, find aziraphale, save it all so they can keep being two married idiots who are too stupid to even know that they’re married; do something, or i’ll never talk to you again, and crowley does something, because that just won’t do, letting aziraphale down, he’ll alter reality itself, because creating a pocket dimension to step into for a few minutes is easier to imagine than aziraphale never talking to him again. And when aziraphale says, you’re something much better than heaven incarnate, you’re human incarnate, he looks at crowley, and he finally lets himself see. he sees it all, all the love crowley has for him, all the love he has for crowley, and sees, god, i was an idiot, how could i ever think some stupid white building with assholes on hoverboards was better than this. we’re with you, adam, whatever you choose, we’re on our side, “When food is gone, you are my daily meal, oh / when friends are gone, I know my savior’s love is real / you know it’s real.” They are on! their own! side! they’re both renounced, but it doesn’t matter, they have each other, and they save each other, they put their heads together and they fool heaven and hell both, just in time for lunch.

time for aziraphale to ask, are you hurting the one you love? because it’s far too perfect. “Are you hurting the one you love? / When they watched the walls and the ticking clock, / Are you hurting the one you love? And it was something you could not stop,” all that time Aziraphale kept Crowley waiting, because he was too afraid to give himself over, doesn’t know if he ever could, can’t even admit that he wants to, and he wants to tell crowley, you don’t have to wait for me. I don’t expect you to wait for me, but he knows exactly what crowley would say. He’d tell him what he tells him every time he watches him eat, shows up when he needs up, deals with his fussy hissy fits and his neuroses, deals with his repression and his refusal to admit that they’re even friends, oh, but i do have to wait. i don’t mind. i want no one else. “Are you hurting the one you love? / you say you’ve found Heaven, but you can’t find God,” literally the scene in the street. he rejects crowley again because he’s clinging to the last shreds of his naive faith in heaven, we’re told in the previous episode that aziraphale is gullible, that he’s so desperate to do good, be good, be what he’s supposed to be, that he’s easily fooled by people telling him they’ll help him do it. and the angels accost him in the street, and he finally gives up on heaven, but he’s still got faith in God, all i have to do is get in touch with the right people, but the right people won’t pick up. they’ll leave him on hold and then send him to voicemail. and crowley never sends him to voicemail. “Are you hurting the one you love? You say you got to heaven, but it wasn’t enough,” he’s sent, unintentionally, to heaven, and they tell him to fall in line, get ready for war, but heaven is empty. it’s not enough, it really isn’t, and when he says, demons can, he’s admitting that he and crowley really aren’t that different. heaven and hell are just names and a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. “Are you hurting the one you love? / You’d like to stay in heaven but the rules are too tough,” If Heaven Bans Me For Fucking This Demon I Will Face God And Walk Backwards Into Hell

I’m always emo about 100 years but especially for them, in those fragile eleven years before the apocalypse, especially those few days when they realize, horrified, that they weren’t even taking care of the right fkcing kid, and they’re still holding onto that desperate hope that they can stop it, somehow, still. “I believe in you, / and in our hearts, we know the truth,” we know how we feel about each other, angel, we’re on our side, “and i believe in love, and the darker it gets, the more i do,” they are pulling closer and closer together, spiraling towards each other, as things get more and more chaotic, “try and fill us with your hate and we will shine a light / and the days will become endless / and never turn to night,” fuck heaven and hell both, the world is a beautiful place, it deserves to exist, and they will save it, “then it’s just too much / i cannot get you close enough,” we could go off together, crowley’s scared, he’s so desperate to save the world but when it comes down to it, he’ll settle for saving aziraphale, it might as well be the same thing, to him, the world and aziraphale, “a hundred arms, a hundred years / you can always find me here,” how long have we been friends? six thousand years. no matter what, they always come back to one another. no matter what, they always come through for one another. i can’t have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous, “and Lord, don’t let me break this / let me hold it lightly,” crowley, desperately trying to be moderate, crowley, saying in every goddamn post-apocalypse fanfic, ‘I didn’t want to go too fast for you,’ “Give me arms to pray with / instead of ones that hold too tightly,” it’s crowley, angry and shouting, show me a great plan, and it’s aziraphale, begging, lord, give me the strength to let go of this, of earth, of crowley, give me the certainty that your plan is Good., and god, i’ve thought about actually writing a scene inspired by this so many times because it kills me so sweetly, “I let him sleep, and as he does / my held breath fills the room with love / hurts in ways I can’t describe / my heart bends and breaks so many, many times / and is born again with each sunrise,” god, crowley sitting at the edge of the bed after they’ve finally fallen into it together, and aziraphale is asleep in the aftermath of it, and crowley is shaking, he doesn’t know why; he just never thought he’d have this. he thought he’d spend the rest of eternity in this yearning, he’s the dog that caught the car, he doesn’t know what to do with it, and he’s staring at his sleeping face, and he’s thinking, surely, aziraphale is going to wake up and realize what he’s done, and he’ll be very kind about it when he tells him it was a mistake, it can’t happen again, but oh, it will hurt, and he’s not sure he can survive another six thousand years of wanting when he’s had a taste of what it’s like to have him. and then aziraphale shifts, sighs, opens his eyes just a crack and frowns at him, puts his hand on his wrist and pulls at him, what are you doing? come back to bed, darling, you must be cold, and his heart is born again with this new sunrise.

speaking of them finally falling into bed together 👀 bedroom hymns. if i write more smut for them it’s going to be blasphemous and it’s going to be titled from bedroom hymns. i’ve already written about it here, but god, i’m obsessed with it. in case yall haven’t heard yet my life’s thesis is god is love is god; you speak to god through a lover the same way you speak to god through prayer; loving someone is loving god. there is no tangible god who’s going to hold your hand at night, wipe your brow when you’re feverish, rub your feet at the end of a long day, sooth you when you cry, reach things for you that you can’t reach, walk with you at the museum and laugh at your jokes, do your laundry when you can’t, call you when they haven’t heard from you in a while, nag you to eat, @bassicallyelora wrote an absolutely fucking stunning poem about that i think about constantly. God, wherever he is, is very far away, but we aren’t. we’re right here. and i say lover, but i really mean love, of any sort, a lover, yes, but your friends, your family, your dog, the plants you water, the hive in your backyard. love IS god. you worship god by loving the people, the life, around you. ‘yes, i know, god’s silence never breaks, but is / that really a problem? / there are thousands of voices, after all’ like maybe i’ve got it all wrong but it’s not the nebulous concept of god wherever he is or may be that needs loving, but his creations. Corinthians 13. i believe in the light within, the spark of divinity in all of us, and i think love is that divinity in me, speaking to the divinity in you, and the conversation between them. it’s more than language and more, even, than touch. but also, this isn’t a post about that, it’s about azcrow, and i’m gay and christian and i was raised southern baptist and Blasphemy Is Hot And The Devil Is Sexy. literally i picture it, that trope of aziraphale’s hands falling to crowley’s belt, crowley’s hand stilling them, his hesitation, that what if you Fall?, and aziraphale freezes, and then he kisses him, whispers, “this is as good a place to Fall as any.” he’d rather fall than go without this; and the act between them, it’s a covenant, I love you, i am devoted to you, i will worship you. god just read the ask i gotta move on. also the second part of this orpheus and eurydice au in which they literally make make a covenant and crowley is aziraphale’s disciple (i’ve said it before! i’ll say it again! the jesus and fucking john of it!!!!) and crowley literally fucking says to him, in this fanfic i read with these two eyes, “let me build you nations, baby, and all the peoples of the world will be blessed through you.” god religion is hot if you’re not a coward about it.

Falling……is so fucking crowley. jesus christ i can hardly stand it “I’ve fallen out of favor and I’ve fallen from grace,” tough enough to handle, given that he literally Fell from god’s favor and from Her Grace, and then fell out of satan’s favor by betraying hell, but then the gut punch, “Fell in your opinion when i fell in love with you,” the thing is, aziraphale is afraid of crowley’s love. he doesn’t think it should be possible, a demon, and he’s afraid of what it means that crowley can love him, afraid of what it means that he wants that love and he loves him back. you go too fast for me, crowley. god. “Sometimes i wish for falling / wish for the release / wish for falling through the air / to give me some relief / because falling’s not the problem / when i’m falling i’m at peace / it’s only when i hit the ground that causes all the grief.” Crowley didn’t mean to Fall, but he made a choice. At some point, someone must have told him he’d better stop asking questions, and he chose not to, and in a way, the Fall was liberating. for one brief moment, he’d defied god, defied the Plan, made a choice for himself, chose to keep asking questions, chose to believe he deserved answers, and he was punished for it, but heaven told him he had no choices, but he proved them wrong. I have free will, i’m a person, I Fell. And it’s only when he landed in that furnace of ever-burning Sulfur that he found that hell is pretty much just a darker, more crowded Heaven. and he wishes there was another choice he could make, another Fall, even if what came after was worse, at least he’d have that moment of choice. turning his back on what he’s been told, and falling into an unknown, giving into that hope it’ll be better. and that’s pretty much exactly what he does, really, in choosing to defy the Divine Plan, defy hell, and Fall, again, but to earth.

I don’t have a lot of analysis for My Boy Builds Coffins, it’s just kind of that The Devil Is Hot thing again. aziraphale making peace with crowley’s tempting people to sin; his place in the ineffable plan. death isn’t something people like, or something they like to think about, but it Is And Must Be. In the world of Good Omens, hell is something people don’t like to think about, might wish didn’t exist, but it Is And Must Be. for there to be free will, for the choice to do good to mean something, there must also be the choice to do bad. “It’s not just for work, and it isn’t for play.” crowley’s philisophical about it all.

I’m not calling you a liar is just. Fuck i have A Lot of feelings about aziraphale’s trust issues, @philosapphor really fucked me up with drawing the parralel between “each man kills the thing he loves, […] the coward does it with a kiss” and aziraphale’s fear that loving crowley could get them both killed, the “I love you so much / I’m gonna let it kill me” of it; and heaven has heavy authoritarian vibes, and i think, constantly, about how impossibly difficult it must be for aziraphale to trust crowley. they’re both putting their lives in each other’s hands, but crowley has this idea that he’s going to be able to outsmart heaven and hell, dance circles around them, maneuver out of it if they’re caught, and aziraphale just doesn’t have that faith, about how he’s never known anything but heaven and it’s so, so much for him to put aside the propaganda and trust crowley as much as he does. he tries to fight it, loving him, tries to deny it, for both their sakes, but “There’s a ghost in my lungs / and it talks in my sleep / wraps itself around my tongue / as it softly speaks / then it walks, then it walks / with my legs / to fall, to fall, / to fall at your feet,” *john mulaney imitating annamarie tendler voice* jeSUS chRIST. he tries, but he can’t help it, he’s drawn to crowley like a planet around the sun, he can’t help but fall in beside him, to Fall at his feet, if necessary, “I’m not calling you a liar, / just don’t like to me,” he begs. please, don’t betray this trust i’m putting in you, please, love me the way i love you, fully, completely, purely, please don’t let this be some elaborate trap, “There but for the grace of God go I / And when you kiss me, I’m happy enough to die,” oh, but i am what god made me, and I’ll give anything to have another taste of you.

Miss peregrine’s home for peculiar children sucked but Wish That You Were Here is a fucking bop, and god, it’s just so them, the constant coming together, across continents and millenia, “you’re always on my mind / you’re always on my mind,” no matter where they go, they’ll always come back to each other, because they’re drawn there. “And I never minded being on my own / then something broke in me and i wanted to go home, / to be where you are,” god it’s so ‘lover, come over, look at what i done, i’ve been alone so long, i feel like i’m on the run.’ they’re both used to being alone, the idiot in the corner with a painted face, but they’re not, with each other, they’re home when they’re together. ‘i wanna hurry home to you.’ “I’m reaching out to you with every note I sing / and i hope it gets to you on some pacific wind / wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear, / tells you that i miss you and i wish that you were here,” god i’m so obsessed with them just. seeking each other’s company out, making up whatever excuse they have to to be beside each other, because that’s exactly what they do, that’s exactly what the Arrangement is. But it can never last, because Aziraphale always pulls away, “And if I stay, oh, I don’t know, / There’ll be so much that I’ll have to let go.” He’s so, so lonely, and Crowley is home, but he’s still afraid of letting go of Heaven, of losing it all, no matter what he gains.

NO CHOIR - BUT WE’RE ENDING ON A HIGH NOTE LADS BECAUSE HE DOES LET GO OF IT, “and it’s hard to write about being happy, ‘cause the older i get / i find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject / there will be no grand choirs to sing / no chorus will come in / about two people / sitting, doing nothing.” in the end, there’s not much to say. in the end, they leave it all behind, heaven and hell scrambling and furious, the bustle of london; they buy their little cottage on the south downs, and they go grocery shopping, and aziraphale attends the village book club, and crowley terrorizes the garden into making produce that wins them awards at the town faire, and they bicker about the thermostat and sometimes one of them gets in a mood and they fight about nothing at all, but at the end of the day, they’ll crawl into bed together and kiss each other goodnight, and in the evenings, they collapse on the sofa together and watch mindless television and bicker about the volume setting. “the loneliness never left me, I always took it with me,” these things stick with them; the doubts, the fears, the ache of loss, the trauma, the insecurity, “but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company.” and there are many names in history but none of them are ours, the history books forgot about us and the bible didn’t mention us, not even once, “and there will be no grand choirs to sing / no chorus will come in / no ballad will be written / this will be entirely forgotten.” and it might all still end up in a puddle of burning goo, there will be a second round, but “if tomorrow, it’s all over, at least we had it for a moment / oh, darling, things seem so unstable, / but for a moment, we were able to be still.”

not comprehensive but it’s literally 5k so we’re ending it here

#my magnum opus....it was all leading to this...........wow it's long #can yall tell i'm into fatm #long post #good omens #ineffable husbands #henry speaks #florence welch #pleinedelavie #henry writes

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lil-meow-aethetics · 7 years

Text

soulmate (fionn whitehead x reader)

@likeapinkocean requested “Hey I was wondering if you could do an imagine where fionn and y/n are good friends and both star on Dunkirk. One day, all the boys (Tom, Jack and Harry and all that) decide to go see a psychic for the fun of it and fionn doesn’t really believe it but goes anyway. And the psychic tells fionn that y/n is his soulmate and they met multiple times in their past lives. Then they are all together and the boys tease him about it and force him to tell him, he likes you. He then goes to your hotel room and tells you he loves you. I know it’s big but I just thought it would be an interesting idea. I love your writing btw ❤️💕”

Forgot to mention requests are always open in my previous stuffs so yeah :)

—–

“That’s a good take,” Chris was standing next to the camera as Y/N, Fionn, and Harry stood shivering in the water. It was 30 or something degrees out and had been raining non-stop. Chris, being the angel he is, thought this was the perfect weather to shoot the scene where your character, Liz, meets the boys under the docks. She went to Dunkirk in her sick twin brother’s place and passed as a boy until her hat fell off in this scene. It felt like their millionth take, and the three of them were freezing. It didn’t help that the rest of the guys got to stay back at the hotel.

“Can we go now, Chris?” Harry was rubbing his hands together while Fionn was jumping up and down trying to stay warm. “We’re so bloody cold.”

“But we still have-”

Chris was cut off by Y/N sneezing rapidly six times in a row. Fionn laughed a little and wrapped his drenched trench coat around your shoulders. All it really did was weigh her down, but Fionn was only trying to help. As the three stood shivering, Chris sighed.

“Fine. But only because Y/N is getting sick. Can’t have our only lead gal die on set.”

“Thank you!”

The three of you were already out of the water and running over to your trailers before he could finish his sentence. They had been filming that same scene from 3 am that morning, and Y/N was more than ready to head back to the hotel and meet up with the rest of the guys. It was a crazy male-heavy set for being the only female lead, but the guys were her best friends anyways. Sure, there are a bunch of cliche “make-up artist/wardrobe person is my best friend” type of thing, and Jordan was one of her friends. It’s just he was in a different hotel and they rarely see each other off-set.

He always made sure you were out of your costume and dried up before heading back, and Y/N loved him for that. He was a sweetheart, and always took care of her.

While pulling your hoodie and shorts on behind the screen, Fionn’s wardrobe/make-up artist burst into her trailer.

“What,” Jordan hung up Liz’s coat and costume on the rack for tomorrow.

“Fionn said you had the trench coat and I wasn’t sure if-”

Jordan looked puzzled as Y/N stepped out from the screen. She smiled sheepishly as she handed it to Fionn’s make-up/wardrobe person while mouthing “sorry.”

Jordan held a strained smile until they went out the door and then turned to face Y/N. “Did you steal Fionn’s coat as a prank, because that is not-”

“No, nope.” Y/N grabbed her wristlet from the table and pulled on her hood. “I sneezed, he thought I was cold…”

“Oh, okay. Have fun!”

“Thanks!”

—–

Groupchat: Harry😜, Fionn🤓, Cillian🤠, Anuerin☺️, Jack😴, Barry🤤, Tom🤡, Y/N🙃

Y/N🙃: headin’ over to the bus right now if any of you guys are still on set

Jack😴: chris finallyyyyy let you go? 🤣

Y/N🙃: not funny and yeah he did

Barry🤤: shoot that sexy water scene with Harry and Fionn 💦😉

Y/N🙃: ew wtf Barry yeah we did but ew no

Y/N🙃: k Harry if you’re still on set the 3:45 bus is leaving in five min and fionn is here so you should hurry up and get here.

Fionn🤓: mate where are youuu? I’m hungry and cold and hungry and want food.

Tom🤡: food? I want food.

Anuerin☺️: tom you literally only pop in this groupchat when we talk about food

Tom🤡: you act like I don’t know that

Cillian🤠: you three getting on the 3:45 back to the hotel? Y/N🙃: Fionn and I are

Y/N🙃: He’s calling Harry he won’t pick up

Barry🤤: HARRY GO TO THE BUS ITLL LEAVE U IN THREE MINS

Fionn🤓: I am so sick of Harry’s voice mail

Y/N🙃: Getting on bus…

Y/N🙃: No Harry…..

Y/N🙃: Bus doors closing……

Tom🤡: BYE HARRY👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻

Jack😴: I feel like he’s going to be upset when we’re all just here when he comes back.

Barry🤤: I feel like you shouldn’t have texted that in a groupchat with Harry.

Fionn🤓: shitttt Harry’s here

Jack😴: oh god

Barry🤤: uh oh

Tom🤡: 💂🏻‍♀️💂🏻those two emojis are different

Cillian🤠: wtf Tom?

Anuerin☺️: fionn what’s happening?

Anuerin☺️: Y/N?

Fionn🤓: so Harry is running next to the bus and Y/N saw him and screamed the driver is fucking hard of hearing so she got up and tapped him on the shoulder and he yelled at her to sit down she yelled at him to pick up Harry meanwhile Harry is standing on the ledge on the back of the bus and he slipped off oh wait no he’s back on Y/N finally convinced driver to pull over Harry is safely in the bus.

Tom🤡: 🐪🐫one hump two hump go hump Y/N Fionn

Fionn🤓: stop it Tom

Aneurin☺️: where’s Y/N?

Harry😜: she just finished yelling at me

Barry🤤: cool

Jack😴: damnnnnnnnnnnnn good story time for dinner

Y/N🙃: yay food nomomomnom

Barry🤤: what do you guys want?

Tom🤡: food

Barry🤤: that really didn’t help at all

Tom🤡: you’re welcome 😘

Aneurin☺️: ew pda

Fionn🤓: guys we’re already here.

Cillian🤠: great we’ll talk bout it everyone meet in Y/N’s room

Y/N🙃: what? No it was my room yesterday

Tom🤡: 😉💦

Y/N🙃: SHADDUP TOM

Cillian🤠: I’m here

Fionn: Y/N, Harry and I are heading up.

Barry🤤: 🧀

Tom🤡: here

Aneurin☺️: here

Jack😴: waiting for you guysssss

Y/N🙃: elevator is openingggggg and Harry has a fan 🙃🔪

Fionn🤓: multiple fans. We’ve turned into that weird couple in the corner Harry’s acting like he doesn’t know us

Tom🤡: 😉💦 fionn/Y/N

Anuerin☺️: ew

—–

We decided to go grab some pizza. It took at least 45 minutes for us to decide, Tom wouldn’t stop cracking gross jokes, Barry discredited everything on Yelp, Harry and Cillian were having their own conversation, Jack was stealing a nap, and Anuerin, Y/N, and I were on our phones texting each other restaurants. We eventually agreed on the pizza place and asked Barry about it. He agreed and we were on our way.

The pizza was fine, we ordered three pizzas and dug in. Y/N only had two slices, we were eating the rest. I must be looking at her a lot ‘cause Tom kept elbowing me and muttering “penis” when he caught me looking at her. I couldn’t help it. She was- she was just everything. Eventually she left the table to go talk to some friends from set or something.

I kind of kept to myself, didn’t really start any conversations, drank light. It was weird. Normally, I wouldn’t be as conservative.

“Okay,” Barry slipped into the seat next to me. Tom had a few beers and was probably flirting with someone catastrophically. I didn’t even notice he left. “I get it. You’re into Y/N.”

“What are you talking about,” I twisted the bottle in my hand around in my hands.

“Everyone knows.” Cillian smoothly sat down on my other side and slung his arm around my shoulders. “Like, everyone.”

“I thought this was Tom’s thing.”

“Well,” Anuerin stole a swig from Jack’s drink. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Kinda?” Jack leaned back in his chair with a slice of pizza. “It’s veryyyyy obvious. I think Chris even knows.”

“Naw,” Harry said. “Chris is too clueless for this.”

“Okay,” I took a swig. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “So what I like Y/N. She’s really-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said. “We know. But you’re starting to be a creep.”

“But I don’t think she notices it-” Anuerin started.

“But we do and it’s fucking weird.” Harry finished.

“Look,” Cillian ordered another drink and slid it from one hand to another. “She’s a great gal, and I totally approve of your relationship-”

“They don’t have one,” Tom said. “But I’m sure all his eroti-”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Anyways,” Anuerin shot a dirty look at Tom. “Last night after you left us playing Skyrim in Jack’s room, we decided to tell you to tell Y/N you like her.”

“Okay?” I awkwardly shot a glance at Y/N that everyone caught. “Good advice, but I don’t really want to, so-”

“Just do it, mate.” Harry was half-drunk and threw his head down on the table. “Nike preaches good stuff.”

“Let me rephrase,” I started again. “I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship.”

“True,” Jack said. “But aren’t you willing to take that risk?”

“No,” I treasured it too much. The next best thing to a romantic relationship was what Y/N and I had now. “And Y/N’s coming. Shut up, pay your own bill, and we should head back.”

“Party pooper,” Barry led the boys to grab their checks to pay, and I paid for Y/N’s tab also. We headed out the door and she caught up with me.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for paying, you really didn’t have to,” she reached for her wristlet’s zipper.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“But I insist,” she stepped in front of me and held the money out.

“No,” I casually sidestepped her and she groaned.

“God, Fionn! You stubborn ass.”

“Thanks.”

“Really- just let me-”

“Y/N,” I spun around to face her. “C'mon, Y/N. Let me so this for once please. Let me be the responsible friend this one time.”

“Alright,” she tucked her hair behind her ear and I felt the sudden urge to step closer.

Before my instincts could react, Tom yelled from twenty paces back.

“Oi,” Tom said, staggering a bit. “There’s a psychic!”

“That’s great, Tom!” Barry propped him up on his shoulders. “We should head back, you’re completely wasted.”

“But I wan’ my fortune tolddddd,” he tripped his way back to the door and tried giving puppy eyes to Cillian. “Pleaseeee?”

Cillian sighed. “Fine.”

“Wha- I can’t believe it!” I spoke out. “We don’t have time to waste money and time on that shit!”

“C'mon,” Harry slung his arm around Fionn, who awkwardly dodged it. “It’ll be fun. Just act like you believe.”

“It’ll be good practice,” Y/N added.

“Fine.”

“YEA,” Tom waltzed in the shop, the rest of them awkwardly following. “‘Ello, ma'am! Can I get my fortune told? Here’s five.”

The psychic looked from him to the rest of us. “Of course. Sit down.”

“Cool,” Tom plopped down on the floor.

“You’d best stop drinking restlessly in bars, someone might come along. It’s up to your actions whether she’ll stay or not.”

“Whoa,” Tom’s eyes widened. “Is she hot?” “My turn!” Barry said, trying to divert the psychic’s attention.

“You are a sweet boy. Don’t do drugs.”

“What?”

“Someday, someone will offer you flour for a cake. Don’t take it.”

“Okayyy.”

“This is hilarious,” Harry whispered.

“You,” she pointed to Harry. “A baby is somewhere in your future.”

“Alright, ma'am.”

“I mean- the near future. The next woman you -um- will bear your child.”

“Oh dear,” Harry stood frozen. “That’s some news.”

“I actually believe that,” Cillian awkwardly stepped forward. “And me?”

“Someday, you will meet someone who seems familiar. They are not like they were in your past lives, be sensitive to them.”

Cillian nodded. He always spoke about horoscopes and probably believed her.

“The one falling asleep shouldn’t be the designated driver,” she said. “Or many people will be led to a watery death.” “I’ll tell him when he wakes up,” Harry said, patting Jack on the back. He stood up a bit before falling back asleep. “You,” she pointed vaguely in my direction.

“Me?”

“Yes you. And the girl?”

Y/N had been hiding behind Cillian and Barry. She stepped forward. “Ma'am?”

The psychic cocked her head to the side. “Are you two a couple?”

“No,” We said a bit too quickly. “Definitely not.”

“You two have met in many past lives. Soulmates, definitely. Mostly ending in happy relationships, a couple affairs. I think you were even once Lord Byron, and you his sister.”

Cillian stifled a laugh as he saw Y/N’s hand fly up to her mouth and my shocked face.

"Oh," she looked from me to Y/N and back again. "Wait, never mind." “Thank you,” Anuerin said quickly before handing her a twenty and we started out of the shop. Everyone else went ahead; Barry was trying to stop Tom from running in the street, Cillian was trying to parent them, Harry and Y/N were laughing about something, Jack was slowly trailing them, and I waited for Anuerin outside of the shop.

As she took the money, she bent down and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and made his way over to me, we walked in silence for a couple blocks before he broke it.

“You should really tell Y/N how you feel,” he said. “I know you’re scared to-”

“Did that psychic put you up to this? And I really don’t want to, Aneurin.”

“No, kinda, not really? Look,” he stopped in front of me and turned around. “I know exactly how you feel, and it’s so worth it in the end. I almost didn’t tell my wife and -well- look where we are now? I know it’s terrifying, but if you truly want a relationship with Y/N, you should tell her.”

“Bu- but what if-”

“So it’ll be awkward for the rest of the shoot and for press tours, but what if she likes you, too. Fionn, we’re all rooting for you and Y/N here. Even Tom in his own very strange way.”

“How am I supposed to do it? This has never really happened for me.”

“Just talk to her,” we were at the hotel and Anuerin held the door open for me. Everyone else waited in the lobby. “You’ll figure it out.”

Anuerin walked over to Cillian and exchanged a few words with him. Cillian nodded casually yelled out, “Fionn, go take Y/N to her room.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as she stepped into he elevator. Normally we would all escort her to her room, hers was one floor above ours, before heading back down through the stairs. It certainly wasn’t the first time one of us had to take her to her room. “Fine, Cillian.”

I smiled awkwardly at her as we piled in the elevator. They pushed the number of her floor first, and we headed up. Nobody else got on, and it was a quick trip up. We got out and headed to her room.

—–

“Thanks,” Y/N said. “Again for taking care of my tab.”

Fionn chuckled. “What is with you and the tab? C'mon, Y/N! You have to let me take care of you sometime.”

“But you always do! I feel so bad that I can’t really take care of you and the guys so-”

“Actually,” Fionn stopped once we got to my door. “I need some help. ‘Bout someone, I mean.”

Y/N faked a huge reaction before unlocking the door and letting him in. “Ohmygosh finally! Tell. Me. Everything! Who is it?”

Fionn raised his eyebrows in the cute way he did sarcastically all the time and shrugged. “Can’t tell you but she’s one of the best people I’ve eve- no- the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” Y/N plopped down on the side of her bed and Fionn took a seat in the armchair next to it.

“What?”

“It’s just- I had this really strange feeling it was going to be a guy- like Harry or-”

“God, no! Who do you think I am, Y/N? I mean, Harry’s my mate! Well, so is the girl.”

“Keep going.”

“She’s been one of my best friends since we first met and I always seem to want to be around her. I don’t know if it was her smile or her amazing sense of humor or-”

“Get to the details Romeo!”

“I thought those were the details but okay,” Fionn faked offense. “I just- she’s one of my closest friends and I’m scared to ruin the friendship.”

“Fionn,” Y/N said. “You are a great guy and if someone rejects you screw them.”

Fionn laughed. “I would love to screw them, actually.”

Y/N exaggerated a gasp. “So there’s two people?!”

“That’s hilarious but I really need help,” Fionn put his head in his hands. “How am I supposed to tell her? Is there a monologue I can use, will a song work?”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Y/N patted him on the back. “Just- just tell her you love her.”

“And that would work?”

“If it would work for me, it’ll work for her.”

Fionn got up and started to leave as Y/N went to her door.

“Good luck,” she said, opening it. “I know it’ll go great!”

“Thanks a lot, Y/N,” he said, going back towards the elevator.

“'Night!”

Y/N started closing the door when she heard Fionn call her name from down the hall.

“Yeah?” She opened the door again and stuck her head out.

“'Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She responded instinctively before closing the door again.

It wasn’t until after Y/N had walked three steps away from the door hat she realized what Fionn had said to her. As soon as she did, she ran back out the door to the almost closing elevator with him inside. She quickly reopened it and stepped inside, pulling him into a kiss. May be they were soulmates after all.

#fionn imagine #fionn whitehead x reader #fionn whitehead imagines #fionn whitehead #jack lowden #Tom Glynn carney #barry keoghan #cillian murphy #harry styles #aneurin barnard

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