this-isapen

[this-isapen]

reblog to tell your mutuals they’re lovely as fuck

[this-isapen]

Hi i love your writting.

Ive been dying for some drama with lots of make up sex if is ok with you. (Hozierx reader that is a member of the band or somenthing like that* thank you so much)

Thank you so much! <3 I really liked this idea, so I hope it's up to your expectations!! (though i will say i don't write sex scenes very often, so apologies if it isn't my best work).

My Fault

Pairing: hozier x fem reader

Warnings: slight angst and drama, mild (+ first attempt) smut

Description: You're having a bad day that culminates in arguing with Andrew, things not meant being said in the heat of the moment. But tensions have to ease eventually, one way or another.

Word count: 3, 479

titled after 'my fault' by zeph

fic under the cut :)

I stare at him from across the table, watching as he laughs loudly at some joke I didn’t catch. He meets my eye momentarily, and I recognize it as his silent way of asking how I’m doing. Not great, admittedly, having snapped at him earlier over something stupid during soundcheck that I can barely remember. I shoot back a halfhearted smile, trying to wordlessly convince him not to worry about it. The last thing I want is that much attention in the midst of getting dinner with the rest of the band. I don’t like to make a big deal about stuff regardless, but especially not around other people. Thankfully, he seems to catch on and doesn’t make any further indications that would draw unnecessary attention from our friends. I don’t think I’d ever recover from making a scene like that. 

I keep to myself, perfectly content to just absorb the conversations around me without participating myself. I take to twirling my fork around my plate, playing with the remainder of my food in hopes of killing time until we head out. I’m not in a particularly social mood tonight, though if anyone other than him notices they don’t say anything. 

Quietly excusing myself from the table, I slip out and head to the bathroom. It thankfully appears to be empty, and I feel myself release a breath as I try to expel the tension from my body. A quick look in the mirror above the sink reveals that I’m noticeably tired. This might be harder to keep under wraps than I thought. 

“Get it together,” I mutter under my breath as I run my hands through my hair. I wash my hands to feel like I’ve at least done something while wasting time in here, inevitably wiping my hands on my jeans when the air dryer doesn’t do much. I take a final deep breath, using up every ounce of willpower to go back out there. 

I’m startled to see Andrew standing by the bathroom entryway when I emerge, but try to walk quickly before he notices me. Unfortunately, my plan fails and he catches my wrist gently in his grasp. 

“Oh, hey.” I glance up at him with a tight-lipped smile, trying to play this off as though I hadn’t seen him.  

His brow furrows as he looks at me. “Darlin’? Everything alright?” 

I brush him off with a mildly exasperated “I’m fine,” before turning to head back towards the table again. 

“You sure? You seem... off.” He keeps his voice at a volume just barely above a whisper, the way he speaks when he’s worried. 

“Yeah, just tired,” I assure him, silently praying for him to just drop it. 

He lets me go, following me back to where the rest of the band is chatting. I easily insert myself into the flow of conversation around me, though whether it’s compensating for the risk of my distance being uncovered or an attempt to prove something to Andrew, I don’t know. 

Eventually, we’re on the sidewalk heading back in the direction of the hotel that’s a short walk away. Andrew reaches for my hand like he usually does, but I pull away quickly, refusing to meet his eye in fear that his face will be written with as much hurt as I imagine it will be. Neither of us says a word to the other for the rest of the trek, which is fine by me. Talking feels too difficult right now, like it will take up the remainder of my already depleted energy.  

I barely remember walking in the door, let alone getting to our shared room.  

The door is barely locked behind us when Andrew speaks again. “What the hell is going on with you?” 

His question stings more than I expect it to, the harshness of the words feeling like shattered glass pricking my heart. I don’t know, Andrew. Everything. Nothing at all. Too much to even begin to explain. 

“Nothing,” my mouth feels too dry as I respond, anxiety eating up the words I truly wanted to say. 

“Baby,” he sighs, and his obvious frustration only irritates me further. What right did he have to be annoyed? Why couldn’t he just leave this alone? “You’ve been acting weird all day; something’s up.” 

“I’m not acting weird!” my voice comes out whinier than I mean it to, causing me to cringe. I feel like a hormonal teenager arguing with her mother, the way I shut down. 

“Yeah, because you usually spend the day avoiding me and ignore me all throughout dinner,” he scoffs. “If something is bothering you, you can tell me. Hell, you can tell me to fuck off and leave you alone, but can you please just give me something to work with other than one-word responses?!” He’s getting upset now, and I feel a familiar sensation brewing in my chest – stress, anger, guilt. 

 “I’m fine, Andrew!” I snap suddenly, regretting it as soon as the words leave my lips. “I told you, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” It wasn’t really a lie; it had been a busy day today, but that was more of an aggravating factor than a cause, and he knew me well enough to see right through me. 

“Darling, please. I just want to help.” 

“And why do you assume I need your help?!” I can’t seem to stop myself from getting snippy with him, but I just don’t want to talk about this right now. Whatever this even was. 

“Right,” he frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Sorry for caring about you. Sorry for trying to have a mature conversation like fucking adults.” 

His last comment sends me over the edge; I can’t stand someone insinuating I’m immature. That one strikes me to very core. 

“Oh, so I’m not an adult capable of holding a conversation?” I shoot back, glaring at him as the threat of tears stings my eyes. The room feels smaller somehow, too cramped. I need to get out of here before it suffocates me. 

“That is not what I’m saying and you know it.” 

“Then what are you saying?” I question. “Actually, forget it. I’m leaving.” 

I rifle through my bag as quickly as I can until I find my hoodie, pulling it over my head as I make my way to the door. 

“Where are you going?” I can’t tell if he’s angry or concerned. 

“For a walk.” 

“Wait, please. Just talk to me.” 

“Andrew, please. Just leave me alone.” I emphasize, managing to slip out of the room, once again barely registering my route until I find myself outside again. 

It occurs to me I don’t know where I’m going, but I inevitably just pick a direction and start walking, the cool night air a blessing to my skin. I don’t really care where I end up, I just couldn’t stand to be in that room with him another second longer. 

*A* 

I groan, tossing my phone on the bed after approximately my fifth call to her that only resulted in me getting her voicemail. I was a total asshole, and I only want to apologize for acting like I did. It came from a place of love, but the last thing I said was a low blow and she didn’t deserve that. I just don’t understand why she won’t talk to me when clearly there’s something bothering her. Something I’m guessing I’m the cause of based on how she’s acted towards me all day. 

I rack my brain for anything I might’ve said or done to upset her, but can’t seem to recall anything of note. Had I been too distant with her? That doesn’t seem to be it. If only I knew what it was, maybe I could fix this. But then again, there’s only so much I can do when she refuses to tell me what the problem is. 

It’s not like I don’t understand it, though. I can be pretty stubborn about these things too, so I get that it might not be fair of me to judge her for the same way that I’ve acted on countless occasions. Still, I only want to help. 

Time passes painfully slowly, but I find myself spending all of it anxiously checking my phone for any potential messages from her. Eventually, I doze off, waking up to find my phone still clutched in my hand. It’s nearly four in the morning by now, and still no sign of her. Not a single call or text, no indication that she’s in the room. When she still doesn’t pick up my call, worry begins to take hold of me. 

We’d gotten back around what, eleven o’clock, maybe midnight? Either way she’s been out far too long for my liking. She should have come back hours ago; where was she? 

Unable to sleep now that I realize how long it’s been, I take to padding down the hall knocking on the band’s doors to see if anyone has heard anything. Alex isn’t much (or any) help, and I feel bad for waking him at this time of night. It hadn’t occurred to me in my anxious state that I’d be disturbing their sleep by doing this, and I make a mental note to buy everyone coffee in the morning.  

The rest of the band proves to be much of the same – exhausted people who don’t know much and aren’t too thrilled to have their boss come knocking on the door in the middle of the night. The last room I try is Kamilah’s, who unfortunately also hasn’t seen or heard from her since dinner, but offers me assurance that everything is likely fine. I hope she’s right. 

Sighing, I return to my room and pull my shoes on. I wouldn’t - couldn’t- rest until I at least knew where she was, that she was safe. And right now, it seems the only way to do that is to go looking for her myself. I don’t care if it takes me all night; I just need to know that she’s okay. 

* 

I finally tear my eyes away from the dark reflection of the lake, unsure of how long I’d been standing there. I’d purposely been ignoring my phone since I left, knowing that checking it would only serve to stress me out more.  

It was clearly late, but it’s not until I give in and check the time that I notice just how long I’ve been out here. Granted, I don’t know what time I got here, but it had been a couple hours at least since I started walking. The fresh air had helped, though the realization that I was alone outside in the middle of the night was beginning to unsettle me as I try to navigate back to the hotel. At least the city was well lit. 

I feel on edge walking down the street, hyper aware of my surroundings until I finally see the overhang bearing the hotel’s name. Relief washes over me as I slip inside, tiredly making my way to the elevator. Hopefully Andrew would be asleep by now because I don’t feel like resuming our argument right now. I’m barely in the mood to talk, let alone fight. 

As I open the door, I see him pacing by the window on the far side of the room, turning immediately towards me. Well, there goes that hope. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion. “I was about two seconds away from filing a report,” he mutters softly. Had he been crying? His eyes looked a bit red. 

I don’t know how to respond, caught off guard by his admission. This is not at all the situation I anticipated walking into. 

“I was worried sick,” he breathes, moving closer to me until he wraps me in a hug, holding me so tightly I wonder if he thinks I’ll disappear if he lets go. “I - are you okay? You’re not hurt?” 

I shake my head, burying my face in his chest. 

“Good,” he hums. “Do not fucking scare me like that.” 

“I -” I choke out. 

“You weren’t answering your phone; I – I went out looking but I couldn’t find you. I was afraid something happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry.” I hug him back just as fiercely, hoping that it underscores my apology more than any words ever could. He searched for me? “For everything.” 

“Me too,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.” 

A few moments of silence pass between us while we cling to one another.  

“I just want you to talk to me.” 

“I know.” 

“You know I love you, right?” 

I nod against his chest, chuckling silently. “I know. I love you too.” Swallowing my pride, I add, “I don’t know why, but I think I was just in one of those moods where everything was pissing me off but I couldn’t figure out what was actually upsetting me.” 

“Love.” 

“I think being on the road has just started to take a lot out of me. I – I'm sorry for being such a bitch.” 

He chuckles softly, pulling back to look at me. “Darling, it’s alright. It’s just that these are the kinds of things I want you to tell me.” Before I can interject, he continues, “I’m sorry for prying.” The softness of his lips and the gentle scratch of his beard on my forehead calm me a bit, the tender familiarity grounding me.  

“I guess we’re both kind of assholes sometimes, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing my lips. “We are.” 

A smirk paints his lips suddenly, and he catches my eye. 

“What?” 

“What do you say,” he hums, rubbing gentle circles into my hips with his thumbs, “I make this up to you?” He bites his lip shyly, waiting for me to give him some sort of indication.  

“Oh,” I giggle, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks at the implications. “You don’t have to.” 

“No pressure,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of my nose. “But I want to, if you want me to.” 

This conversation had taken an... unexpected turn, though I’d be lying if I said the thought of whatever he had in mind didn’t excite me. I meet his gaze, and have my answer. Who was I to say no to those gorgeous eyes that bore into my soul with such adoration? 

“Okay.” 

I smile upon seeing the massive grin spread across his face at my response. He kisses me again slowly, passionately, walking me back towards the bed.  

His fingers tug at the waistband of my jeans, a silent plea for permission as he looks at me once more. I nod, and he unbuttons them, pulling the material down my legs. Without a word, I pull my hoodie and shirt off together, giving him even less clothing to work with. His fingers trail lightly up and down the sides of my thighs and up to my hips, leaving me with goosebumps as a result. 

He kisses me, lips slowly trailing from my mouth to my jaw, neck, collarbone. A contented sigh escapes me with each new feeling. He continues to kiss his way down my body, lowering himself to reach the next section until he’s kneeling before me. 

 I take in the sight of him; he looked so fucking pretty like this. The only word I can think of describe his actions right now is reverence. I gently work my fingers through his hair, watching as he instinctually leans into the touch. I can feel my breath catch in my lungs as he kisses me through the fabric of my underwear. He tilts his head up slightly to meet my gaze, a wordless check that I want him to continue. I nod, and seconds later his fingers are hooked in the sides of the fabric, sliding them off my legs and tossing them aside next to my pants. 

“Gorgeous,” he mutters quietly, my face becoming a deeper shade of red in response. Slowly, he encourages me to sit on the edge of the bed, placing my legs over his shoulders with a final glance up at me. “Alright?” 

“You really don’t have to,” I murmur, instinctively resisting despite how much I can feel myself craving this.  

“Darling,” he hums, chuckling slightly. “I want to, truly. Please let me.” There was the slightest hint of desperation in his voice, but I knew that he would stop without argument if I just said the word. 

“Okay.” 

With that, he buries his face between my legs, targeting the spot I need him most. The pressure of his nose and the feeling of his tongue provide a delicious feeling I didn’t realize how badly I needed. Before I know it, my words are a jumble of pleas and curses mixed with his name as his mouth and fingers begin to work in tandem to bring me to the edge.  

“Andrew,” I gasp, gripping his hair in my fist, knowing that I’d soon reach my climax. 

“It’s alright baby, I’ve got you,” he hums against me, sending a shiver up my spine. “Just let me take care of you.” The utter worship with which he treated me was still taking some getting used to. 

“What about you?” 

“I’m doing just fine, darling. My focus is on you tonight,” he murmurs, his fingers continuing to curl inside of me while he talks. Fuck, he’d be the death of me.  

“Andy,” I whine. 

“Shh, I have you, baby. I’ve got you, just let go for me,” he encourages, his words nearly enough to send me over the edge. Moments later, my orgasm washes over me, Andrew looking quite pleased with himself as I catch my breath. “That’s it, good girl,” he hums. 

He rises from his knees, electing to sit on the bed next to me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple as he pulls me in. “Good?” 

“Great,” I laugh breathlessly in response. 

“Good.” 

“But,” I start, getting his attention. “I think I have some things to make up to you too.”  

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “Don’t feel obligated, love.” 

“I want to,” I assure him, finding it funny the way that we’ve managed to reach a complete role reversal. “You deserve to feel good too.” 

“Trust me, I felt plenty good pleasuring you.” 

I roll my eyes, playfully shoving him. I know he’s being serious, but he can still be so cheesy sometimes. “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” he chuckles, and I can only kiss him in reply. 

Suddenly, I’m pushing him back on the bed, our mouths and bodies colliding as we laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Our hands are reaching for one another clumsily, happily. It’s nice to be with him like this after the day we’ve had.  

He eventually rolls us over so he’s on top of me and presses his lips gently to mine. I reach for the waistband of his sweatpants and pull them down, though he needs to kick them the rest of the way off.  

I smile at the sight of him in his boxers, blushing a bit despite this not being a new occurrence. He cups my cheek in his hand, kissing me once more before pulling back and sliding his underwear off. 

“You ready?” he asks, looking at me with a sense of adoration I still wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to.  

I nod eagerly, letting him position himself between my legs comfortably. He presses into me slowly, allowing me time to adjust to the feeling of him inside me.  

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he compliments, the heat rising to my cheeks once more. “And God, I hope I never stop making you blush like this,” he adds, much more quietly, leaving me wondering whether he wanted me to hear that or not. 

He thrusts into me slowly, only gradually increasing his pace. Eventually, he brings my leg up, fucking me gently at this new angle. My hips meet his, and the fingers on his free hand entwine with mine. The sheer gentleness of our movements together almost brings a tear to my eye. 

I watch him as he loses himself in the feeling, his eyelids shutting contentedly as he eventually tips over his own edge.  

“I love you so much,” he mumbles softly, kissing my forehead. 

“Love you too,” I giggle. 

After a few minutes, he pulls out of me and pads into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth a couple moments later. My eyes start to flutter shut as he cleans me up, the emotional and physical exhaustion both finally catching up with me. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is him wrapping his arms around me and pulling up the covers.  

[this-isapen]

Dead Dove (Do Not Eat)

- Hozier x Fem!Reader

Summary: You, Andrew, and the band get together and play a drinking game involving fanfiction. what could go wrong?

Tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, drunken confessions, drunken kissing, no use of Y/N, FIC DOES NOT CONTAIN DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT CONTENT, it was just a title i swear, written for fem!reader but could be gender neutral

Word Count: 3139

Author's Note: THEY CALL ME A CHIROPRACTOR THE WAY I'M BACK‼️‼️‼️ like for realsies. i know i keep coming back like once a month and saying "i'm back" but i mean it now. anyways! i wanted to thank @cervidaewasteland and @sillycartoonhozier for coming up with this concept, as well as @deprivedmusicaljunkie and @uprightpillar for betareading!!! hope you enjoy because this is lowkey a crackfic. also yes i know the format of the texting is weird, tumblr hates me

read on ao3!

as always, fic under the cut :3

Touring with your best friend since your late teens was genuinely a dream come true. The moment Andrew first offered you a spot in the band, over ten years ago when his debut album was released, you’d said yes. Your love of music (combined with your looming crush on Andrew) made the job as easy as breathing. You wouldn't trade this job for anything, no matter how routine being on the road might get.

Another concert wrapped up. Another mostly flawless performance (Andrew flubbed the words to Cherry Wine, but what else was new). Another stay at a hotel that you never would've picked if you had the choice. And most importantly, another bed with too-soft pillows that was calling your name. That was, until Larissa called it first. You turned to look at her from down the hallway, pausing as she sped up to meet you. Once she reached you, you continued your pace towards your hotel room.

"The band’s gonna go to Andrew's room, have a little celebration since we don't have to hit the road until the morning. Are you coming?" She walked beside you as she explained. You could hear the eagerness in her voice at the possibility of your presence. However, at the moment you were much more enthralled with the idea of getting a good night's sleep.

"I think I’ll have to pass. I'm pretty tired, I —" your sentence was cut off by a yawn, like your body was proving your point. "I might just turn in for the night.”

"Please? We're playing your favorite game!"

You stopped in your tracks upon hearing the teasing of your favorite pastime on tour: an admittedly juvenile game that the band had dubbed “Fanfiction Book Club”. One member of the band would find some outrageous fanfiction written about Andrew — usually one written with grammar mistakes and plot holes galore — and take turns reading it aloud. You laugh, you drink. More often than not, it resulted in tour buses full of hangovers the next day, but you never regretted a second of it.

Your favorite part was the fact that it made Andrew squirm. It was consensual, of course; half of the time playing the game was his idea, and you were sure that tonight was no different. He seemed to enjoy it as much as anyone else, laughing and blushing and sometimes even muttering an That's actually a good line.

"Hmm... oh, alright. I'll be there in a few minutes, just let me get changed so I'm not still in my concert attire.” You finally gave in, gesturing to your all-gray outfit left over from the performance less than an hour ago. Larissa didn't seem to care when you showed up, her eyes gleaming with excitement the second you agreed. You said farewell for now and rushed back over to your hotel room, texting Andrew on the way there.

Hey. U ready to read some teenage girl’s flawless writing about u?

This is what i was born to do

Of course I’m ready.

I’ll bet you € 20 they misuse Gaeilge

I’ll bet you €30 there’s only

one bed

You got changed into a much more comfortable outfit, a simple old t-shirt and some shorts, something you knew you'd soon change out of. It seemed that by the time you entered, all the other members of the band had already arrived, and you took the only empty spot. All squished into Andrew's hotel room, you were all sitting in a makeshift circle, going across the floor and onto his bed. Everyone already had a drink in hand, and feeling a little left out, you went to grab a can from the room’s mini-fridge. Andrew was already sitting in front of it, ready to distribute drinks to those who asked. He handed your drink to you instead, and you wanted to kick yourself over the fact that your heart fluttered when your hands brushed.

You quickly scanned the room, noticing the only empty space to sit was between Alex and Melissa. Sitting criss-crossed on the carpeted floor between the two, you watched as Alex stood up from his spot, commencing the events of the night.

“Welcome to Fanfiction Book Club, my fellow musicians. I found tonight's selection on the modern day Library of Alexandria: Wattpad.”

Alex was almost always the ringleader, being an absolute menace and finding the fanfiction. Andrew supplied the drinks and the hangout space. Everyone else brought their spirits. Everyone had their small habits to make the reading more enjoyable. Deepening their voice drastically whenever they had to read for Andrew. Making sure to pronounce every spelling error just as it's spelled. Giving “Y/N” the most outrageous name possible, so that Andrew was about to go on a date with “William Shakespeare”.

The story of the night featured the main character being Andrew's backup singer who was a decade younger than him. They hated each other at first, but after a night in which they shared a hotel bed (you owed Andrew that money later), feelings were beginning to be reconsidered. The band especially had fun with tonight's pick, with jokes ranging from cradle snatching to HR violations. Andrew laughed along with them, taking everything in stride and even taking quite a few drinks of his own. The phone got passed around, and you had made your way through more than one drink already from the sheer amount of fun you were having.

Andrew seemed especially flustered when the phone got around to you. You read out loud about how the main character had confessed her undying love for Andrew in a rainstorm, despite only knowing the man two months. Her pining couldn't even compare to yours, you thought as you read. Two months versus almost two decades. Unfortunately, there was also a pang of discomfort you could feel, as some of the words you were reading aloud actually resonated with your situation. It almost gave you shivers to read someone describe how “in love” a character was with Andrew, and express thoughts that had crossed your mind daily. I love your smile. Your eyes are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Your kindness is overpowering. How dare words on a screen — likely written at two in the morning by someone with nothing better to do — relate to your situation so deeply.

You were able to keep it together and not laugh, likely thanks to your comparison between the fanfic’s story and your own. You passed the phone back to Alex, who was much more inebriated than he was at the beginning of the game. By the time his phone got back to him, his words were slurring.

"Everybody listen! Here's where it gets good," Alex yelled, effectively shushing the room and capturing everyone's attention. You leaned over his shoulder, trying to get a sneak peek at the next few words as Alex read them. You couldn't resist a laugh as Alex read. "'Andrew leaned in, and as his lips met yours, he kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns—' Oh my god," Alex read before being stopped by his own chuckles. Poor man couldn't even finish the sentence. When your gaze jutted over to Andrew, he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He had thrown the hood of his zip-up over his head, like his thought process was if you all couldn't see him, he couldn't feel the shame. Alex had no aversion to making Andrew cringe like this, and a shit-eating grin was plastered on his face as he read out the next segment.

“‘You never would have known it, but Andrew could touch a woman just how she wanted to be touched, and look at her like the way she's always wanted to be looked at.’ Want to teach me your ways, there, Andy?”

“That's kinda hot, actually,” you joked, turning to Melissa as you took a voluntary sip of your drink. Andrew coughed, followed by dropping the hood and taking a deep breath. This caught your attention; you assumed he had just had a moment where he was choking on his drink. You raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Are you alright? He held up a thumbs up to reassure you, using his head to nod back towards Kellen, whose turn it was.

“Okay, here we go. ‘Your kissing quickened, until eventually his large hands were…’ oh, I don't think I can read that aloud,” Kellen said. He flashed the cellphone screen to Alex, who scanned the words on the screen, his eyes getting cartoonishly wide at the contents.

“And then they start having sex, so that, my friends,” he said, snatching up his phone from Kellen’s hands, “— is where we have to cut the story off.” This was met with groans, everyone upset that the game had come to a close.

“Additionally, if we go any further we run the risk of Andy turning the same shade as a stop sign,” Alex teased, gesturing to Andy who, true to Alex’s word, had now turned a bright shade of red. Eventually, the group conceded and began to leave the room, congratulating each other and laughing on their way out, sometimes mumbling a witty remark.

“Same time next week?” Rory asked as he left, followed by an agreement from Andrew. His exit meant you were the only two people left in the room. In the moment, you decided to make yourself at home, sitting at the foot of his bed and plopping your back onto the mattress.

“So… that was… quite the story, huh?” you said, stretching your arms out before crossing them over your chest. Andrew chuckled, nodding as he walked over and sat down beside you.

“Tell me about it. That had the grammar of someone who’s never heard the words ‘spell check’ before.”

"Plus, the way they wrote about you? It was like some... some cheesy BookTok romance novel."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You scoffed, accompanied by an eye roll. Maybe it was his ego, or his intoxicated state, but he really couldn't see how absurd those words were.

"C'mon, Andrew. 'Kissed you with the burning passion of a thousand suns'? Be for real. You would not kiss like that," you explained. Your sentence dissolved into a chuckle towards the end, likely because you had been made more giggly thanks to the alcohol in your system. Your laughs subsided when he asked you a question that was without a doubt a result of the alcohol in his system.

"Wanna put that to the test?"

You laughed again — now from nerves and not from amusement — and shook your head in disbelief. Did he actually just say that? Fully sitting up now, a confused look came across your face.

"Andrew, what do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that you keep saying those descriptions are inaccurate. You don't know that.”

Could he really not see that those words were completely asinine?

“You really believe you… what was the line… ‘touch a woman just how she wants to be touched’ and all that crap?”

“Well, y’know, any man would like to believe that. Won't know until you try,” he said with a nonchalance to it that made you almost angry. It felt like a life or death decision was being thrown into your lap, and he couldn't care less.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options. It was just one kiss. Just to prove some stupid point. If anything more happened, it would be blamed on the alcohol. Even the worse outcome to saying ‘yes’ still meant you got to kiss the man you had been longing for. What did you have to lose?

“Fine, Andrew. You can kiss me.”

He nearly lunged at you, grabbing the sides of your face and smashing his lips into yours. You felt a jolt down your spine at the sudden sensation, kissing him back.

Holy shit, he really was kissing you with the passion of a thousand suns.

Kissing Andrew, your best friend as well as your boss, was, to put it lightly, playing with fire. There was something about his lips on yours that felt like burning. You were more than willing to step into the fire and let it consume you.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip, asking you for permission to enter, which you happily gave. His tongue explored your mouth, hungry to memorize every inch of you that was available. You relished in the feeling of his touch, letting him pull you closer. He grabbed onto your hips, your lips still interlocked as your hands made their way to his untamed curls. Trapping his legs between yours, you accepted as he pulled you into his lap and let you straddle him. A soft moan escaped you as you felt Andrew's sudden grasp of your ass, and you wanted to do something in return, but you came to a realization.

Andrew probably thinks there's no feelings involved.

As much as it pained you to do it, you leaned back, pulling away from the kiss.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.”

Andrew blinked up at you, his lips now red and slightly swollen. If you didn't know any better, you’d say he looked a little worried.

“What's the matter? Did I not meet your expectations?”

“No, no. It was great, but,” you watched his lips curve into a cheeky smile. Grabbing the sides of his face was the only way you could get him to focus. “Andrew, wipe that smirk off your face. I’m trying to be serious here.

“I’m sorry, but it's hard to be serious in this position,” he replied as you looked down at him (for the first time, thanks to your height difference now being reversed). You paused in hopes of taking a mental picture of the image to save it in your psyche forever.

“Yeah, well, try your best.”

A sigh left you. Your brain tried to articulate how to tell him what you needed to get off your chest. Thanks to the alcohol, even when you did speak, it came out much more simplified than you had hoped.

“Okay. I like you. I really like you, and I have for a while. I feel so stupid for saying it, but I do. I couldn't let this continue without letting you know that.”

To your shock, Andrew's reaction to your confession was to… burst into laughter. It felt as though your heart could escape your chest at any moment, the nerves now hitting you all at once. Hastily, you said your thoughts out loud.

“You're laughing. Oh no, you're laughing. Shit, I’m an idiot, aren't I?”

“No, no, you're not, I promise,” Andrew replied, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, composing himself before meeting your gaze with a new sincerity in his eyes. “I’m only laughing because I’ve felt the exact same way. Also for a long time. Just never knew when the right time to tell you was. And tonight… the opportunity just arose.”

You gave him a calculating look, like you were trying to make everything make sense in your head.

“So we’ve both liked each other for close to a decade, just said nothing about it for years, basically wallowing in our own self pities, until you decided you had enough liquid courage in your system to finally hit on me? Because of a fanfiction?”

Andrew exhaled, giving you a defeated nod after essentially he had been called out.

“Sounds about right."

The situation was almost comical. Really comical, actually, and you now understood why Andrew’s first instinct was to laugh. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as you laughed into his hoodie. Of course he had liked you the whole time, how could you have been so oblivious? Once you fully composed yourself, you pulled away, shaking your head in disappointment. “God, what a couple of idiots we are.”

“A right pair of knobheads.”

Andrew smiled up at you, a dumb grin like an idea had popped into his head. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

“I wanted to ask you this when we were much more sober, but I guess no time like the present, right?” Letting out a small sigh, he continued. You could see his cheeks flush again, like whatever he was going to say would make him more flustered than the fact that you were sitting in his lap. “Would… ehm… would you want to go out sometime? I don't need an answer now, if you want to just let me-”

“Yes. Yes, please. I would want nothing more than to go on a date with you.”

The goofiest grin spread across Andrew's face. You couldn't help but think he was adorable.

“Grand. I don't know what I would've done if you said no.”

“Shoving me off of you would've been the best option.”

“Yeah, probably.”

You both laughed together once again, before your giggles where cut off by a yawn. Seemed that the tiredness you were feeling before the whole ordeal was beginning to catch up to you.

“I guess that's a sign I should retire to my bed chambers, huh?” You lifted yourself off of him, moving so that you were now merely sitting next to him. Looking over at Andrew, you could tell he had an idea forming.

“Maybe you could just… sleep here tonight? No one needs to know, and if they question anything, I’ll just say you passed out and I didn't want to wake you.”

Another way your night began to overlap with fanfiction: there was only one bed. Sharing a bed with Andrew was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You nodded.

“Let's get comfortable, then,” you mumbled, shimmying back until you took up one side of the bed. Andrew maneuvered himself backwards to get comfortable. You watched him lay down, both of you on opposite sides of the bed. Buried underneath the covers, you gazed at him as he did the same; he looked perfect. He raised an eyebrow at your staring and gestured for you to come closer. If you nodded any quicker, your head would’ve fallen off. You let the both of you get fully comfortable with one another, shifting to find the best position to cuddle in for the night. Once you found a way, Andrew made it work. He enveloped you, holding you to his chest with one arm and cradling your face with the other. You placed a hand on top of his.

“I always did like when they mentioned how big your hands are,” you murmured jokingly, your eyes already fluttering. In reply, Andrew rolled his eyes before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Good night,” he whispered.

“Good night, Andy,” you responded.

You had never felt more at peace.

[this-isapen]

The Very Blood of You - Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Celine longs to see Andrew again, despite everything.

Warnings: longing, guilt, mild loss of hope

Word count: 1147

read on ao3!

chapter under the cut :)

Celine was beginning to grow exhausted; she had become annoyed with her own complaining recently and had taken to remaining mostly silent the weaker her spirit – and body, for that matter – grew. She was being fed just enough to keep her going, but with each passing day she swore she could feel herself slipping away.  

She tries to hold onto the last little sliver of hope that she’ll make it out, though it keeps fading bit by bit the longer she remains here. Any dreams of making a great escape alone had slowly crumbled after the first day or two. She longs desperately to be found, even just to be held for a single moment. While she had always been independent, often to her own detriment, Andrew had shown her that it was okay to rely on other people when she was struggling to balance everything by herself. The recent time spent together had allowed her to once again grow accustomed to that sense of security, and feeling it ripped away for a second time made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The last thing she would ever want is to show any fear or weakness, especially to her captors, but each day chipped away pieces of her confidence that she worried she might never get back, not to mention that keeping her worries buried deep inside herself was becoming more draining the longer she tried.  

Staring blankly at the dark wall in front of her, she thinks back on how she ended up here, wondering where she went wrong. The image of Saoirse in the doorway that day burns itself into her mind. Celine had replayed this scenario in her mind countless times, always coming up with new failures and what she should have done instead. If she’d only shut the door instead of freezing. If she’d never answered the door at all. If she had called Andrew instead of texting, or had messaged him before she came face to face with that monster. If only she knew how to fight, and hell, shouldn’t she have bothered to learn after the attack? She should have been able to defend herself. And she had let that woman into Andrew’s home...  

She lets out a shaky breath, barely having noticed how much this psychological hell loop was affecting her.  

Celine wonders now if she’ll ever get out of here alive. The thought terrifies her, but after everything she’s been through, she is unsure. She thinks it might genuinely take a miracle at this point. What a concept that is, a miracle.  

After what could have been minutes or hours later, she drifts off, only to have her dreams plagued by him.  

They’re laying in bed together, her head on his chest. They remain in each other’s company in a comfortable silence, bodies completely entangled. His embrace and the blankets provide a warmth unlike any other, one that felt somehow safe – if an intangible concept were even able to take on extra traits of its own. He holds her tight, and she embraces him with the same snugness. This was the feeling of being, indisputably, home.  

The scene shifts suddenly, and now they’re in a field somewhere with a picnic basket sitting mostly forgotten next to them. The sun has begun to set, illuminating the sky with vibrant bursts of pinks and oranges unlike any other. She’s sitting next to him in the grass, absentmindedly pulling at the soft blades beneath them. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head. They watch as the colors slowly begin to fade from the sky and the vast expanse of twinkling stars take their place. She knows, somehow, that they’ve spent the whole day outside like this. The sky was truly gorgeous here, capturing her full attention until she can feel him staring at her.  

She laughs, asking what he’s looking at.  

He grins shyly, not giving her a firm answer. He was cute when he was flustered.  

She rolls her eyes, and they turn back to taking in the scene around them. There’s a chill in the air she ignores, but he notices the slight shiver and drapes his jacket over her shoulders without a word. She’s taken completely by the scenery, barely registering the softness of his voice as he mumbles into the expanse around them that he loves her. She looks up at him with a smile, kisses his cheek.  

I love you too.  

A distant voice mutters something bitterly before she hears a clattering on the ground nearby.  

“Andy,” she mumbles groggily as sleep begins to loosen its grasp on her, the dreams – or were they memories? - slowly fading from the forefront of her mind.  

Blinking away the tiredness in her eyes, she refocuses on her surroundings. Not Andy. She was still here, still alone.  

A tired tear slips from her eye before she has a chance to push her feelings away. The aching was most consuming when she was first awoken, unable to adjust her emotions before they took over. She hated feeling such a way, but finds herself wondering if that really matters anymore if they’ll likely kill her before she even has a fighting chance.  

Celine lets out a weary laugh to herself, thinking she must look utterly insane.  

Her thoughts turn back to him, wondering what he was up to and how he was doing, how he’d react if he didn’t make it in time. She was doing a lot of that these days, though there wasn’t much else she could do while stuck siting here.  

Had he gotten her message that day? What happened when he came home? Where was he now; was he okay? Had that bitch done something to him? Her thoughts grow darker and more anxious as they progress.  

What if he was hurt, or worse? Was he on his way to her right now? Maybe he would never find her, or flat out wasn’t coming. And why should he? Maybe she deserved this, after everything.  

She inhales sharply, panic taking hold of her to her core. Nobody is coming to save you, the grim idea digs its claws into her. It’s almost funny, in a way – for so long, that had practically been her motto, the driving force behind her insistence on handling everything on her own. Except now, the thought had much more sinister implications.  

There’s an odd feeling of elation at the notion, as though she were freeing herself from the shackles of some crazy belief set that she had fallen victim to. The thought repeats itself over and over until it doesn’t feel like it has any meaning anymore. Perhaps she truly was starting to lose her mind, but what did it matter? It wasn’t like anyone was coming for her.  

[this-isapen]

I would love to discuss the metaphors of that movie with him holy shit

I wonder if Hozier watches Sinners yet? He will go buck wild crazy with it.

[this-isapen]

I love his dumb ass so bad

this is my favourite video from the night when he thought he lost his earpiece and he’s kinda panicking but really it was in his ear the whole time 😭

🎥 emwillcomeback (twt)

[this-isapen]

The Very Blood of You - Chapter 10

A/N: sorry this took over a month to update lol

read on ao3!

Word count: 2,708

chapter under the cut!

“That one,” Saoirse points out a person in the distance, having insisted on making Andrew prove himself to her before she’d give him any information on Celine.  

“No,” Andrew shakes his head. “I’ll show you I’m capable like you want, but no kids. That’s my condition.” 

The boy she’d indicated couldn’t have been older than about fourteen, and the thought made him sick.  

“Hmm, I thought your condition was that I let your girl go free.” 

Andrew’s heart twisted at the thought, but he keeps his composure. He still didn’t know much about what had happened to her, only that she was alone and being carefully guarded. “Saoirse, come on. This is just plain evil. I can handle an adult, but I refuse to kill a child.” He hadn’t yet been able to figure out a way out of Saoirse’s deal, but he could at least try to negotiate it.  

She rolls her eyes, likely calling him some version of naive or immature in her head. “Fine, if you insist.” 

That was ... easier than expected. No fight, no grating comments about his lifestyle choices? He couldn’t help feeling that something was off, though he couldn’t quite place what.  

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” he mutters quietly, keeping his head down where he sits. No amount of restless thinking had revealed an angle that would make any of this make any sense yet. He worried he’d never figure it out. “Are you just trying to teach me some fucked up lesson? Because frankly, I’m fucking tired, Saoirse – this only worked for so long the first time around; why again? Why now?!” 

She offers him a smirk paired with an eye roll – what he wouldn’t give to wipe that smug look off her face.  

“We both know damn well the only reason I’m doing any of this is for her.” 

“You certainly have grown more of a backbone over all these years, Andrew. I’d find it endearing if it wasn’t so infuriating.” 

You’re one to talk, he thinks, absentmindedly digging his nails into his palms. “For just once in your excessively long life, can you give me a straight answer?” 

“I need you for something.” 

“Wow, real specific,” he scoffs. “You’re the reason the love of my goddamn life almost fucking died, the reason she’s currently in danger, and you can’t even tell me why you’re forcing me to do the one thing I never wanted to do again?!” 

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. I’m not forcing you to do anything; you can choose not to listen to me any time you want.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll kill my girlfriend!” he snaps, not even caring whether any lingering people may have heard anymore. Fortunately – or unfortunately? - for him, if anybody was around, they didn’t make any indication of awareness to his situation. He felt like a hostage trying everything possible to desperately cry for help, and really, that wasn’t even that far off. “Fuck, how do I know you won’t just kill her anyway to see me suffer?” 

“If you’re going to keep acting like this, maybe I should – it'd only take a quick call...” she considers the idea, stealing glances at Andrew to gauge how much she was affecting him. His whole body visibly tenses, providing her with her answer.  

He swallows as he tries to steady himself, the slight tremor of his balled fists giving him away regardless. 

Saoirse grins slyly to herself, knowing as long as he was kept in the dark about Celine, he’d be easy to keep under her thumb.  

Spying a young man walking alone a few hundred feet away, apparently completely oblivious to his surroundings, she taps Andrew’s arm to get his attention. “There,” she points.  

Following her gaze, Andrew sighs. The guy would be an easy target, but that almost made him feel more guilty; this poor person wouldn’t even know what happened. Everything inside Andrew was screaming at him not to do this, but the million and one thoughts of Celine being tortured running through his mind were overpowering. 

In the blink of an eye, he has the man in a tight hold against his chest. He could feel the fear radiating from his prospective victim’s body, hesitating momentarily. Was he really going to do this? A quick look back at Saoirse staring him down squashes any thoughts of rebelling. 

“I’m so sorry, man,” he apologizes weakly. “This’ll be over before you know it.” 

With that, he protracts his fangs, sinking them into the soft flesh of the man’s neck.  

He had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have someone’s skin under his teeth, to feel their life force slip away as it coursed through him instead – a sort of twisted trade-off. There was something almost alluring about it in a way, the taste of blood metallic yet sweet on his tongue as his base instincts momentarily took over.  

Any charm of the process was forgotten moments later when the once warm body falls to the ground. Coming out of the trancelike state the rush of blood to his system had given him, he looks around the scene in horror. The lifeless form at his feet elicits a troubled gasp from him. What the hell had he done? 

He stumbles away from the crime, nearly collapsing to the ground when he approaches Saoirse. He should feel energized, powerful, but all he can feel is shame. He’d spent so much time breaking from this, so much time convincing Celine he wasn’t violent, but that all felt pointless now. Oh God, Celine. He felt like an utter failure. 

“Well done, Andrew,” Saoirse praises, something akin to admiration, though much more sinister, in her tone. 

“I... I killed him. He’s dead,” Andrew mutters in disbelief, unable to pull himself out of his terrified self-loathing. 

“Yes, good job.” 

“He - he could have had a family, or friends... what if he has someone waiting up for him to get home?” he sniffles. 

“I thought we moved past this the first time, Andrew,” Saoirse mutters in disgust.  

“He was a person!” he screams back. He repeats this quietly to himself, seemingly gasping for breath.  

Saoirse glares at him in annoyance, remembering the first time she had gotten Andrew to feed. That time, he hadn’t even had the intention to kill; he’d merely gotten lost in the moment of feeling his hunger become sated. She looks back on this memory with a sort of fondness, having soothed and praised him until he calmed down, which of course led to inevitably assisting him towards the path of classic vampirism. That first kill, though, had triggered a days-long morality crisis in which he’d barely been able to talk. 

He had much that same kicked puppy look about him now, only with the added time and maturity the years had changed him with.  

“Relax, Andrew. You’ve been through this before; it will get easier.” Her tone lacked the empathy that the statement was deserving of, wanting only to push him along so they could get out of here.  

“It doesn’t get fucking easier!” he snaps. “It was never easy – I know you don’t know a single goddamned thing about remorse, but that guilt doesn’t just go away over time. I have to live with it forever!” This too parallelled that first time, though his words were much more venomous towards her. He was no longer a scared new vampire questioning how he’d be able to continue; he’d been through this before and he was angry. 

She lets out an exasperated sound, hoping he would get this over with. She was not in the mood to listen to his anxious rambling tonight. “When will you understand this is simply the best way?” 

“Bullshit! I managed just fine doing things my way, and then you – you come along and rope me back in with threats...” 

“You’ll understand when this is over-”  “I don’t give a shit what your end goal is right now, Saoirse. You’re hurting innocent people to get to me. The guy I just fucking murdered didn’t deserve this; Celine doesn’t deserve this!” 

By now he was practically out of tears from the intense emotional turmoil of the last couple months – it had been a hell of a year to say the least. All that was left was the dry anger that coursed through his veins and the desire to rescue the person that meant everything to him. That combination was a ticking time bomb, waiting to be set off. 

“Interesting... you said nothing of whether you deserve this,” Saoirse comments analytically.  

“Maybe I’m doomed and can only outrun this awful existence for so long,” he sighs in temporary defeat, “but that doesn’t mean you get to drag innocent people into this.” 

“Innocent... you didn’t even know him.” She nods in the direction of the man in question. 

“You know that’s not the main point of this argument,” he growls.  

She cocks her head curiously at him. “Are you really insinuating all that about your precious little human girl?” 

“I think I know her well enough to know she doesn’t deserve any of this; nobody does.” 

“Didn’t she break your little heart?” 

“Don’t fucking condescend to me – it isn’t my fault you don’t understand love. Sure, I was heartbroken, but that doesn’t necessitate you trying to kill her and using her as fucking leverage to get what you want.” 

“Trying to kill her?” she sneers. “We both know if I wanted her dead she would have been long before she had a chance to find you.” 

Andrew hesitates to reply, unfortunately knowing Saoirse was right about this. But he was still frustrated at his lack of understanding. How could she have possibly been planning this from the beginning? 

“How did you know?” he asks quietly, cringing at how weak his voice sounded. For someone who should be feeling more powerful, he felt quite the opposite. 

Saoirse shoots him a confused look. “Know what?” 

“That she was with me,” he clarifies softly. “We’d been broken up for months at that point.” 

“Hm. The way I remember it, she was absolutely terrified, yelling out something about someone being very angry if I did anything to her,” she muses, expressing a tenderness towards the memory that made Andrew’s blood boil. “You know, it’s funny; she refused to give up your name at first...” 

His head shoots up at that, trying to force the pieces in his mind to fit together. Celine had been trying to protect him? He had no doubt that even under such duress, she’d be smart enough not to trust Saoirse, but this went deeper than just her wit.  

“Until, of course, I sank my teeth into her neck and she screamed out for you... honestly, I don’t even think she was conscious that she was doing it.” 

In her most desperate moment, she’d wanted him. He should’ve assumed as much given her coming to him in her window of consciousness before her adrenaline wore off, but the thought of her actually calling out his name seemed somehow different.  

“How the hell did she get to me in that state?” He almost regrets the question as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He flicks his eyes up towards Saoirse, impatiently waiting for an answer. “If she was anywhere within walking distance of my house I would have known...” he trails off, wondering if he was completely accurate in that statement. He was usually pretty perceptive, but thinking back to that night he can’t seem to recall exactly when he picked up on her presence.  

Andrew tries to snap himself out of that line of thinking, knowing that Saoirse was relishing in watching him suffer through his own self-doubt. She may not be able to read his thoughts, but she knew him well enough to know his ability to drive himself crazy with nothing but his own thoughts. 

“Did you have something to do with that? I- adrenaline can be powerful but I can’t help feeling that wasn’t all that was going on.” 

“Maybe I gave her a little push,” she answers noncommittally.  

“Saoirse, please stop with these vague responses – I'm clearly doing whatever you ask of me, as much as I hate it. I deserve a proper explanation.” He felt pitiful, begging her for answers. It reminded him of the time spent vying for her attention before everything went downhill, and the mere thought of that comparison made him want to hurl. None of this was supposed to happen. 

“She’s perseverant, that one. She had a goal of getting out and that’s what she did.” 

“Saoirse.” 

“Thought her sweet little vampire boyfriend – or ex-boyfriend, I suppose – would protect her,” she mocks, grating on Andrew’s nerves.  

“Saoirse!” 

“Oh, that’s not the answer you were looking for?” she asks, feigning innocence. “Fine. When I heard your name fall from her lips, I was delighted. I let her go, knowing she’d lead me right to you if she thought she was getting away.” 

“That still doesn’t explain how she made it without passing out, or why she woke up with no memory of what had happened or how she got there.”  

Saoirse sighs, calculating her next response. There was no easy way out of Andrew’s scrutinization now, and she loathed the fact that he technically deserved the facts of what happened. Unfortunately for her, even she couldn’t deny him that after he had proven himself. 

“Complex, isn’t it?” she hums, not giving him the satisfaction he craved just yet.  

“I’m sick of you dodging my questions,” he sighs. “Please.” He felt pathetic, but he didn’t particularly care anymore. More than anything, he wanted answers. Well, more than anything, he actually wanted his life back and his love safe, but answers were an incredibly close second.  

A twisted smirk paints her face, indicating her clear pleasure in watching him squirm. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to give him all the answers quite yet if keeping him this desperate meant she could continue to control him.  

She paces in front of him, drawing this out for as long as possible while he rubs the back of his neck anxiously, growing increasingly frustrated. He was anxious, she could tell.  

“Please,” he begs again, a look of desperation in his eyes. “I’d offer you anything you want in return, but that already seems to be the arrangement, so...” 

“Hmm, what did happen that night?” she pretends to ponder, as if the events were on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t quite remember them. Taking a final glance at Andrew, she sighs. Even she could only stand to see him like this for so long. “Fine. We were close enough, by sheer coincidence, might I add, that she managed to find you – simple as that. I was serious about letting her lead me to you, but I didn’t have anything to do with getting her there; fear is one hell of a motivator.” 

“No,” he mutters in disbelief. “That- that’s impossible; I would have sensed that somehow... I would’ve heard her...” 

“My dear Andrew, do you honestly think you pick up on every minute thing that happens around you? Your brain learns to tune a lot out after a while.” 

“I-I know, but-” 

“But what?” 

“But it’s her.” 

“So?” she asks, tired of watching him try to create some alternate scenario that fit his narrative. 

“So,” he growls before forcing himself to take a beat, “I know every detail about her, I’ve always had a sense about her. So why... why wouldn’t I have realized something was wrong until she was on my fucking property?!” 

“I don’t know, Andrew. I don’t have every answer.”  

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she sounded legitimately concerned for him. But he had never known her to have a compassionate bone in her body. He releases a frustrated groan, trying to force his mind to focus back in on the present. Unfortunately, that only leads to his sense of horror at his own actions kicking back in. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, barely audible. “I just want to go home now.” 

[this-isapen]

I Never Told You What I Do For a Living

Pairing: vampire! hozier x vampire hunter! reader

Warnings: none really

Word count: 2,362

Andrew is a vampire. His wife is a vampire hunter. Neither of them know about the other's true life, and tensions rise when they find out.

read on ao3!

fic under the cut

Text:

“Let me go,” I growl at the handful of vampires surrounding me, trying to make it come across as more of an order than a plea. The last thing I needed was for these pieces of shit to have the satisfaction of me begging for my life, my freedom.

I don’t quite know how I got myself in this situation; I’m good at my job, usually being able to hunt them down and move on before the bastards knew what hit them. But tonight was different. Maybe I had miscalculated, or someone had messed with me without me realizing. All I know is one second I was ready to strike, and the next I was being restrained and threatened.

I just hope that if these fuckers kill me, Andrew isn’t left wondering what happened to me. I haven’t exactly been honest with him about what I do for work; he thinks I’m a security guard with odd hours. I suppose in a way, that’s not too far off from the truth – more omission than anything else.

“And just why would we do that?” taunts one of the vampires holding me down, grinning evilly. “No sense in letting a hunter run wild, trying to kill us at any given moment.”

“If you’re going to kill me, at least have the courtesy to make it quick so I don’t have to suffer the torture of you talking to me.” I try to resist them, but my attempt is futile as all my weapons were several feet away, very much out of reach with the grip they had on me. Struggling only makes it worse, but I’m not going down without a fight.

The one I’d been talking directly to bares his fangs, readying himself to rip out my throat, when another voice joins the commotion.

“Let her go.” It’s an order, one they seemingly can’t resist, though they don’t appear too happy about it. At the very least, it makes them hesitate, which buys me a few extra seconds.

“You want us to let the hunter go?!”

Unfortunately for me, they still haven’t loosened their grip nearly enough for me to reach any of my tools. Worth a shot.

“I will deal with her myself,” the new voice counters. “Have a few questions that need answering before any of you kill her. Now, leave.” It was authoritative, commanding. There was an edge to the order that dared the others to even think about disobeying.

The vampires reluctantly leave me, muttering angrily to themselves. I brace myself as the figure comes out of the shadows slowly towards me, too stunned by what had just happened to make a break for it. He crouches down, meeting me at eye level. Those kind, familiar eyes... There’s no way this was happening right now.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, angel?” my husband’s soft voice is unmistakable this close.

“ Andrew?! I can ask you the same thing.”

He smiles at me in acknowledgement, reaching forward to cup my cheek in his soft hand. “Are you hurt?” he asks tenderly, apparently examining me for possible injury, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

“I’m alright,” I murmur. “But Andy, what the fuck is happening? I – you're one of them?!” The sharp fangs protruding from his mouth suddenly catch my attention.

“Yes, darling.” his answer is simple, concrete. You’d think I had asked him if he wanted pasta for dinner with how casually he replied.

My world seems to be spinning out of control in front of my very eyes. There is no way my husband, the love of my life, is a vampire and I didn’t know. I can’t reconcile that; my sweet Andrew cannot be one of them. And even if that was the case, how would I not have picked up on that? I notice everything about him; why would I not know?

“You’re a fucking vampire.” Saying it that bluntly makes it feel somehow less believable.

“You’re a hunter,” he replies coolly, seemingly examining the ground. Did this not bother him? Or was he just holding something back? His reaction is impossibly hard to read, blurring my interpretations of the person I thought I knew so well.

“How the fuck-”

“Not here,” he cuts me off before I can finish asking my question. “We’ll discuss this later, at home.”

“But-” I start to interject, but he stops me with a sharp look. This was a side of him that I certainly wasn’t used to.

He tilts his head slightly, seemingly listening for something. “They should be far enough away now that your pathway is clear, but just to be safe – run. It’s too risky for us to leave together; I’ll see you later.”

“Andrew-”

He grabs the bag containing my hunting tools, shoving it urgently into my hands. He still wants me to have them?

“Go.”

His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument right now, so nodding, I get up and head back towards home.

I pace our living room for a while in a futile attempt to make sense of the situation. How the fuck was he a vampire? He didn’t appear fazed by my being a hunter when he was instructing me to escape – did he somehow figure me out before I picked up on him? If that were the case, why wouldn’t he say anything to me? My head is practically spinning as the questions pile up.

He finally returns about two hours later, and I’m ready to start arguing before he even has both feet in the door. Before I get the chance, he walks directly up to me and presses his lips to mine, holding my face in both his hands. There’s something so tender and loving in his kiss, making me momentarily forget the events of tonight.

“You’re seriously not hurt?” he asks softly, forehead against mine. His question is sweet, protective. Always a worrier, that one.

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “Promise.”

He seems to accept that response, pulling away from me slightly.

“Andy.” It’s all I can do right now to begin this talk. How does one confront their partner about being a vampire?

“Yeah... suppose we have a lot to discuss, huh?” I can tell he’s nervous, uncomfortable with the idea of having this conversation.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I start.

“Same question.” That isn’t much of an answer, but fine. He’s rubbing the skin of his hands raw as he waits expectantly for my reply.

“I assumed you were unaware of the existence of vampires, and I was hoping to keep it that way. I wanted to protect you,” I confess. That was true; I hadn’t wanted to stress him out with the existence of the supernatural world, figuring that the less he knew the better.

“Me too, plus I... I didn’t want to scare you away.” There’s an insecurity hiding behind his admission, which cracks my heart wide open. He was worried I’d be scared of him? “I hope you know I would never want to hurt you.”

“I know, baby.” I was struggling to wrap my head around this, but I knew his words to be true. He had more than proved that tonight, freeing me instead of letting me get murdered by those despicable... no. Could I really think about them like that anymore?

“I love you more than anything,” he says as if he’s afraid I won’t believe him.

I notice he’s averting his gaze, and I reach up towards his face, making him meet my eyes. “I know. I love you too.”

He covers my hand on his face with his own, trying to secure it in place. His eyes close softly as he turns his head just enough to kiss my palm.

“Honey?” he asks timidly. “What does this mean for us?”

“I don’t know that I have an answer for that right now, Andrew,” I sigh shakily. This is a variable I had never once considered, so now I wasn’t sure what this meant for me, let alone us. “I mean, if I know I can trust you, does that mean my entire worldview has to change? There’s just a lot I’m going to have to process, a lot to think about.”

“Just promise me that if you kill me, I can at least die holding you,” he mumbles against my hand, seemingly holding back tears. He... sounded like if it came down to it, he would let me kill him. Andrew hadn’t been a fighter, ever, but not putting up a fight for his life was an entirely other thing. Is this something I need to be concerned about?

“Baby, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why not? I’m one of them, like you said.” I hadn’t realized how much this was affecting him, like he feared me.

“Yeah, well up until a few hours ago, you were just my husband.” I lean up, kissing his cheek. “Who I love very, very much,” I continue with another peck.

I thought that my entire universe crumbling would make me more unsure of my relationship – we'd both been lying to and hiding from one another for so long, but there was something almost poetic about it. In a way, it was all done for love.

“And you could easily have killed me tonight, baby. But you didn’t, and that makes me think I can still trust you,” I point out in an attempt to calm his anxious mind.

“Of course I didn’t fucking kill you!” He seems mildly offended at my suggestion, totally not the response I was hoping for. “I - when I realized it was you, it didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t going to let anybody hurt you... I know that sounds ridiculous, because you’ve murdered so many of us, but...”

“Andrew... if you didn’t know it was me, would you have?”

The look on his face tells me all that I need to know. The thought stung, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t say the same. If I’d been in position to fight, I would have killed him without hesitation if I didn’t know it was him. The thought terrifies me, wondering what tonight’s outcome would have been if things had gone just slightly differently.

“Baby?” he asks, voice cracking. “Why do you do it?”

“I’m trying to protect people, Andy. I don’t want to see innocent lives be lost to creatures they don’t really stand a chance against.”

“We’re not all bad, though,” he argues, sounding a bit sad as he stumbles over his words.

“I can see that now...”

I really don’t know how to comfort him in this situation, this unexplored territory. It doesn’t help that his reaction is totally confusing, shifting from concerned to sad, maybe even angry.

“When I heard your voice... I – I thought they had gotten the wrong person, that you had gotten caught up in this somehow...”

“Andrew...”

“I should be fucking angry with you!” he shouts, startling me before shooting me an apologetic look. “But... I’m just, I don’t know, hurt? But I’m also just so goddamned relieved that you’re safe.”

“Back there, you... you gave me my weapons back. Why?”

“Because you deserve to be able to defend yourself, love.”

His teary eyes meet mine as he continues. “Even now, knowing all this shit... I would never be able to forgive myself if they had killed you. A lot of them are much more, ehm, impulsive than I am.”

“Andy,” my voice cracks slightly. His name feels like the only thing I’m capable of saying right now.

He sighs, shaking his head. It takes everything in me not to hug him tighter than ever and tell him everything would be alright. How could I, when I didn’t know where we stood right now?

We remain awkwardly in the living room, occasionally stealing anxious glances at one another. Where the fuck do I go from here?

“I know it won’t solve anything, and I know I definitely don’t deserve your forgiveness... but I am sorry, baby.” I manage to find my voice once more, though it sounds smaller to me than I ever thought it could.

The expression on his face is impossible to decipher. “I just...” he mumbles, a tremble in his voice. “I know it’s not fair to ask you stop.”

I want to get defensive of my work, but I hesitate. I try to picture separating these two lives again, but I’m only tormented by images of staking the heart of the man currently standing in front of me. “Andrew, I... have a lot to figure out about all of this. But if it’s any consolation, I think that means at the very least I’ll be taking a break.”

“Don’t feel obligated just because-”

It’s my turn to cut him off. “This isn’t because you’re asking me to. This is because I need to rethink some things.”

Apparently, neither of us know what to say next, the tension of tonight’s events fully exhausting our dialogue.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” I finally say, a yawn accentuating my statement.

“Oh,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll make up the couch.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“I mean, I figured you don’t want to share a bed...”

“I-” did I want that? On one hand, all the lying and hiding that had come to light made me hesitant to indulge in that intimacy. But on the other, I was exhausted and the comfort of sinking into his arms was incredibly tempting. “If you don’t hold me, I’ll kill you,” I chuckle dryly, wincing at my attempt at humor.

Before he can respond I add, “Uh, kidding. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

I hear his breathy laugh before feeling his lips on my forehead. “I know.”

He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me to our room. There was a lot I didn’t know, but those thoughts are immediately silenced as I’m enveloped by the familiarity of my husband and my blankets. Figuring everything out is a problem for future me.

[this-isapen]

finals are officially over and I’m currently unemployed lol so if anyone has any requests feel free to make them 🙂‍↕️

[this-isapen]

chat i fear i may be girlbossing too close to the sun bc i started on that vampire hunter idea i had but then thought of a completely different hunter plot line that might work for a one shot so long story short now there are two vampire hunter x vampzier fics in the works

[this-isapen]

The Very Blood of You - Chapter 8

Warnings: kinda slight angst/argument? mostly cutesy this time around

Word count: 2,060

read on ao3!

*note: currently locked so only ao3 users can see it bc of the AI scraping issue but hope to unlock it soon!

chapter under the cut :)

“Andy?”

“Hm?” He briefly raises his eyes up from his book to look at her.

“How old are you actually?”

That was not the question he was expecting from the woman mindlessly scrolling her phone from the opposite side of the room.

“Eh... what makes you ask?” One hand instinctively rubs a bit nervously at the back of his neck, a tic he was afraid he’d never rid himself of.

“Don’t know, just thought about that,” she shrugs, glancing over at him. “If that’s a touchy subject, don’t feel obligated to answer.”

He had to hand it to her; when she was making an effort, she went all in. She was surprisingly accepting of his unwillingness to discuss certain areas of his existence he wasn’t comfortable talking about quite yet. She rarely pushed him on a subject unless she deemed it important for her to know sooner rather than later.

“I’ll be... a hundred and forty... six in March,” he grimaces, hoping that it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable to know.

“Huh.”

“Sorry, you just found out I’m almost a century and a half old and all you have to say is huh ?” he lightly teases. He was bewildered by her reaction, expecting some kind of emotion from her.

“You drink blood, Andrew. I think your age is the least surprising thing I’ve learned at this point.”

He supposes he can’t argue with that.

“So, what were the dinosaurs like?” her teasing comment comes several long seconds later.

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs, throwing a pillow from the couch at her.

“Assault!” she gasps dramatically, clutching her nonexistent pearls for emphasis before tossing the same pillow back at him.

They erupt into a fit of laughter, a combination of the banter and gentle tiredness that had begun to take hold of them.

There had been countless nights just like this one while they were together, the memories remaining unspoken between them but remembered fondly by both. It felt almost impossible to believe things had once been this simple, this natural, between them; it was just as difficult to believe that they’d gotten so complicated that this scene was a rarity.

He shoots her a sentimental smile, hoping it would communicate all the words locked away in his heart. Like she didn’t already know.

She mirrors the affectionate gesture, apparently coming to the same conclusion.

The question hangs heavily in the silent air, daring one of them to risk asking it.

“What the hell happened to us?” Much to Andrew’s surprise, Celine is the one to break the tension.

“You tell me.” His reply is tender, though not without the hurt and anger he had repressed leaking into it.

“That’s not fair,” she argues, clearly stung by his choice of words. “You lied to me and -”

“And you refused to give me a chance to explain,” he cuts her off, no longer attempting to hide his feelings.

Nails digging into her palm, she takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t know what you expected me to do in that situation.”

“I am in no way saying that I blame you for reacting like that – that is completely understandable. But that also doesn’t change the fact that it hurt me.”

“Fine, I can apologize for leaving and not waiting around for an explanation but honestly, Andrew... I was scared. I’d never exactly seen a vampire in real life before, how was I supposed to know that you weren’t going to hurt me?”

“If I had wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would’ve done it long before you found out about any of this?”

“I understand that now,” she replies softly, almost a plea for him to believe her – an attempt at a peace offering. “I just also think you must know what it’s like to find out you’ve been dating a monster and had no idea. That shit hurts, Andrew.”

“You still see me as a monster.” He sounds reserved, like he’s trying desperately to bury any semblance of emotion before anybody can see.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said.”

“I mean that word in the most literal sense, Andy. You have to know that,” she sighs.

“No, actually. I don’t know that, because one minute we’ll be acting like we’re friends and the next you’ll be back to accusing me of some heinous bullshit.”

Celine looks at him silently, mouth open in shock. His words had come out angrier than he had meant them to, and the self-loathing seeped into every fiber of his being instantly. He’d hurt her, blamed her for something she had very little control of, and now every part of him was screaming at him that he truly was a monster.

“I - fuck. Celine, I am so sorry.” He looks up at her through teary eyes, wishing he could reverse time to take back his comments. “I’m sorry, that isn’t your fault. I’m just frustrated, and you don’t deserve to have that taken out on you. I’m sorry.” All the apologies in the world wouldn’t allow him to absolve himself of his guilt, but it was all he could do to express even a fraction of how he felt.

“No, you’re right. I’ve been a dick to you when you don’t deserve it, when all you’ve ever done is try to show me how much you care.” She casts her eyes down towards the floor as she anxiously picks at her nails.

He finds himself wondering if she even realized she was doing it.

“No. I mean, yes, you have been but it’s not your fault.” He would never feel like he could emphasize that to her enough.

“Just,” her voice trembles slightly as she chooses her next words, “why didn’t you just tell me about... all of this?”

This was not the direction he had seen this conversation going in, even when it went from playful to tense. He knew they’d ever so briefly touched on this once before, but it must really have been bothering her to bring it up again.

When he eventually finds his voice again, it’s distant, small.

“Would any of this played out differently if I had come to you from the start?” He didn’t want to ask, was terrified of the answer. But it was something he needed out in the open.

“I don’t know how you expect me to answer that,” she sighs. “I want to tell you that I wouldn’t have freaked out on you, that I would have understood... but the truth is, I just don’t know.” She looks at him for a beat, feeling her heart twist at the look on his face. It was cruel the way two people who were once so in love were able to hurt one another so badly. “I’m upset you lied to me, that you felt the need to keep this hidden, but I can’t guarantee I would have acted any differently if you didn’t.”

He nods, visibly upset by the information being laid out in front of him. He didn’t know what he was expecting.

“I’m sorry that the way I reacted hurt you,” she mumbles timidly after a few painfully silent moments pass. “Truly.”

Somehow, that admission was enough to break down any guard that he still had up, and he allows himself to let the tears fall freely in front of her.

“I’m sorry I kept the vampirism a secret,” he murmurs.

Crying and sniffling come from both of them, and finding discomfort in the sudden display of emotion, they laugh at their own dispositions, a quiet bond over being a couple of emotional wrecks.

“I miss you,” he says, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he looks at her.

Her breath catches, not wanting to admit the same out loud. She could barely stand to admit it to herself, but to tell him felt like an uphill battle.

“I miss you too,” she confesses shyly, meeting his gaze for a moment.

“You do?” he asks, genuinely surprised at the words coming from her mouth. He may have had several moments of hope that they would be okay, but somehow never thought there was a chance of it ever coming to fruition.

“Yes,” she forces herself to confirm. “Andrew, I...” she hesitates. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that despite it all, she still loved him. It felt like too much, even though she knew he felt the same for her. “I miss what we had,” she settles on instead, mentally cringing at herself for her own cowardice. Deep down, she may crave the love they once had, but it was somehow too sacred, too fragile to speak aloud.

“Do you think we can be friends, at least?” his question is a bit restrained. “I just really want you back in my life, in whatever capacity you’re willing to allow.”

“I think I’d like that,” she offers him a slight smile.

“And I’m sorry I ruined the quite lovely day we’d been having,” Andrew lets out a watery chuckle.

“It’s alright; we were probably bound to have this conversation at some point.”

Neither of them continues, instead letting the anxious silence drift in as it pleased. They had each said what they deemed themselves capable of, and there was nothing left to do with what they’d laid out on the table except sit with it and allow it to exist between them.

Celine could feel her body begin to grow heavy with tiredness but lacks the motivation to force herself up and to bed. It was taking everything in her to fight off the drooping of her eyelids, a battle she was growing closer and closer to losing. Somehow, she always seems to forget that a long conversation or a good cry can really take it out of her. If she could just move, she could let herself sink into the comfort of an actual bed.

“Celine.” The warm voice comes to her far away, distorted as if she were hearing it from under water. She feels so cozy, so blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she fails to realize her eyes are still closed.

“Darlin’.” Something soft brushes gently against her skin, eliciting the tiniest mumble from her in response. Even in this state, she could tell that whoever was talking to her was amused; she could practically feel their smile.

“Mmph,” comes her confused reply.

“Love, c’mon. Go to bed.”

Her eyes begin to open ever so slightly, bringing her just enough consciousness to know what was happening.

“Andy,” she hums, a tired smile involuntarily spreading across her face.

“Hi, darling.” He struggles to keep the amusement out of his tone. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“Don’t feel like moving.”

“Want me to carry you?”

She silently outstretches her arms to allow him to pick her up. He wordlessly carries her to her room, grinning as she manages to drift back off in his arms in the short trip. Laying her down on top of the covers, he bids her goodnight, grateful that the evening that had turned rocky had settled on relatively solid ground.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she mumbles into the pillows, barely audible even to him.

Sweetheart. He almost didn’t believe he’d heard her correctly. It was something she used to call him all the time, a name that for some reason made his heart melt. He loved anything she would call him, but he had particularly latched onto that one. She had known that too, often using it to bring him out of his own head. Countless images of her running her fingers through his hair after a long day flash through his mind. Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart? the memory of her voice was clear as day.

He tries to dismiss her slip up, the way it made him feel. She was asleep, likely not even aware that the word had come out of her mouth. But exhaustion or not, why would she have even thought to say it? He rubs his hands over his face, mind racing. He couldn’t let the hope overtake him. They were friends for now, anything else he knew he should push off until after their little problem was solved. Or at least he would have to.

[this-isapen]

me: I write for myself, not validation

also me after posting a fic *refreshes ao3 every five minutes*

(two things can be true)

[this-isapen]

"I didn't comment on a fic I liked because I don't think the author would care or remember my comment anyway". fanfic writer here, I still remember comments I got on my fics from seven years ago. I still think about them and they still make me smile. your kind comments are what motivates us and what helps us keep writing.

I personally know writers who take screenshot and print out comments they got from their readers.

TL;DR comments matter to us writers more than you think. if you like a fanfic, never be shy to let the author know ♡

[this-isapen]

The Very Blood of You - Chapter 7

Word Count: 5,798

Warnings: angst I guess

read on ao3!

chapter under the cut as well :)

She wakes late, having eventually been taken by sleep at some point in the early morning hours. It takes her a few minutes to fully adjust to being awake, as she feels groggy, a leftover from the previous night’s revelations. Surely that had simply been the exhaustion talking... 

At least that’s what she attempts to convince herself of as she lays on her side, debating getting out of bed. You’re being ridiculous, there’s no way you can still be in love with someone who spent the better part of your relationship lying to you. But couldn’t she? She groans into her pillow just as a soft knock raps at the door and it squeaks open. 

“Celine?” 

She lets out a noncommittal groan as an indication she was awake. 

“Just checking, it’s late,” Andrew mumbles softly, beginning to retreat from the room, a silent acknowledgement that he would still keep his distance. 

Celine couldn’t purge the longing she felt when he departed, the room somehow feeling twice as empty now that it was back to just her. She shakes her head as if trying to erase the thought from her brain, but it only sticks itself harder to the forefront of her mind.  

Fearing she’d exhausted every other available option to clear her mind, she grabs her headphones. If she felt like running away from her own thoughts, she might as well try doing it literally. 

Her hand is on the doorknob when his voice catches her attention. Where had he even come from? It was like he had simply appeared. 

“Where are you going?” a hint of worry tints his question. 

“Running,” she answers simply, suddenly desperate to not spend a single extra second in that house. 

He nods in acknowledgement. “Just be careful,” he warns softly, yet another gesture reminiscent of a simpler time. Have fun, be safe, I love you – all phrases she had grown accustomed to any time she would be going out somewhere. Hearing them now made her stomach twist. 

She’s outside, sneakers hitting the pavement, in record time. She had never even been much of a runner, but now seemed as good a time as any to start. 

The air in her lungs is somehow both restrictive and feels like the easiest she’s breathed in a long time. Chest heaving, she pushes herself to power through despite the increased burning sensation in her legs. She figures if she runs hard enough, fast enough, far enough, her thoughts would struggle to catch up to her body.  

Eventually, though, she finds herself needing a break. She comes to a little clearing on the side of the road, trying desperately to catch her breath. The inner turmoil of her mind seems to have dissipated, but it still didn’t feel enough to soothe her fully. She didn’t want to be able to even think about that possibility and wonders if she needs a stronger distraction, though feels unsure of what might even work. Maybe she could only outrun her feelings for so long, but that wouldn’t stop her from pushing that limit. The pressure in her lungs just meant that maybe her run needed to be slowed to a walk for now. 

Having successfully calmed her heart rate, she slowly continues down the path in the direction she’d been moving in. It was nice, taking in her environment and focusing on the nature. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to get as far away from that house as possible. She didn’t want to turn back until she absolutely had to, not wanting to be forced into proximity with her own emotions again. Out here, it was easier to ignore them, focus on the world around her; but back there, he may have been keeping his distance from her, but his presence seemed to always loom in the background regardless. Just the knowledge that he was there, occupying the same space as her, was enough to make it feel like her chest would cave in on itself. 

For half a second, she considers sneaking back to her own home the next time he’s out, but knows he’d flip to find her gone without a word. Besides, if she brought the idea up to him, she’d either be shut down immediately or he’d invite himself to stay with her, and the thought of being cooped up with him in her tiny apartment was suffocating. And she’d be lying if she said the thought of being back on her own didn’t secretly terrify her a little, though she would never admit to that. Especially not to him. 

She dismisses the notion, hating that it had even crossed her mind. Clearly, walking wasn’t enough to battle her own thoughts, so she picks up her pace again. 

Clouds begin to darken the sky, and the gentle mist that follows is not enough to deter her until it becomes a downpour.  

Showing no signs of letting up any time soon, she reluctantly turns around and heads back the way she came. There was little, if any, illumination along her path, and the dampness of the ground certainly wasn’t helping her keep steady. As much as she wanted to deny it, fear had begun to gently take hold of her senses, slowly tightening its grip on her like fingers around her throat. Get it together, Celine. 

It dawns on her that she had been so hell bent on distracting herself that she had no true concept of how far she had come. Her route had been mostly a straight line from what she remembered, but she had paid so little attention to direction, acting only on the urge to keep running. When had she ended up in the middle of the forest? She couldn’t seem to say. She couldn’t have been out for that long, could she? The sudden darkness of the world made it hard to tell, not to mention the rain falling practically in sheets. 

She couldn’t place quite what it was that triggered her anxiety. It wasn’t like she’d never been caught outside in the rain or the dark before. And Andrew lives in a secluded area; there wasn’t a reason to feel unsafe – the likelihood of another person being around right now was slim, though that didn’t do much to assuage her fears. Secluded... perfect if someone wanted to make sure nobody could hear you scream, her mind torments her. She tries to force herself to keep moving, realizing she’d been standing completely still for the last several minutes. Or at least that’s her rough estimate, time didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. 

A crack of thunder in the distance startles her, and she nearly loses her balance, one foot briefly slipping out from under her.  

She makes out some foliage on her left side, unsure of whether it was close to Andrew’s house. Every last tree and bush seemed like a carbon copy of one another, like she was stuck in some kind of permanent hell loop of greenery. It felt as if the woods were closing in on her as she stood perfectly still in the middle of it. Logic seemed to fail in her desperate attempts not to panic. She considers swallowing her pride to call Andrew, but finds her phone battery nearly dead in addition to a lack of service. Of course her luck would have it that she hadn’t plugged it in last night so she was dealing with whatever percentage had remained from the day before. 

“Fuck!” she shouts to the emptiness surrounding her, surprised to hear her voice come out as more of a distressed whine. She was utterly fucked, trying to fend off hopelessness as she slowly forces herself to continue moving. It takes everything in her not to sink to the ground and hope for the earth to just consume her. 

One foot in front of the other, just keep moving. You can do this, she tries to convince herself. You just can barely see where you’re going and have no way of calling for help, no biggie! 

The sound of critters making sounds nearby shakes her, every rustle of leaves presenting the fear of another person. Or worse, a monster she had yet to face. She could usually push it down, even forget about it herself, but now she couldn’t seem to escape the overwhelming fear that she would be attacked again. It had been a dark night in the middle of nowhere last time, and even though there were still a few pieces missing, she could draw the parallels. 

Celine eventually gives up on trying to gauge her exact location, instead channeling the same energy from earlier to just keep moving. She wouldn’t feel so vulnerable if she wasn’t standing still. Telling herself she’s just being dramatic, she decides to just keep moving in a straight line, figuring it’s the most logical option as opposed to risking getting herself more lost.  

The tiniest semblance of clear thinking seems to prove her right when she’s able to make out the faintest line where a path led back out to the road through the water droplets clouding her vision. If she can just find a street sign, she could reorient herself and get back home. Well, his home. She didn’t have the capacity to process that slip up right now.  

She’s relieved to feel her feet hit solid ground again, a welcome change from the squishy mud she’d found herself in. Lightning strikes the ground a few feet ahead of her, causing her to gasp in fear. Her nerves felt absolutely destroyed, but she had a better sense of where she was now; it was just a matter of following the road back down to the house. She heaves a sigh of relief, padding back down the winding roadway.  

About a hundred feet from Andrew’s driveway, Celine stops dead in her tracks. She could have sworn she heard her name being called, but the voice sounded distant, unfamiliar, though beckoning. She shakes her head, thinking the exhaustion was starting to get to her. The voice only grows closer as she approaches the front gate, convincing her she must be losing her mind. It was decidedly feminine, but she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to place it, her thoughts consumed by getting inside. Maybe I’m just delirious, the coldness is getting to me, she thinks as she closes the gate behind her.  

She shrieks, swearing she felt a hand brush against her arm as she makes her way towards the front porch. Please no, she thinks, feeling almost too terrified to say it out loud. But in an instant, the sensation passes without anyone in sight to justify the feeling. 

Before she can even reach for the knob, the door swings open. 

“Celine? Baby, what’s wrong?” Andrew asks tenderly as he pulls her inside, locking the door behind them. “I was about to go out looking for you, I was getting worried,” he confesses, momentarily releasing her to find a spare towel. 

Wrapping her frame in the oversized fluffy fabric he finds in the closet, he pulls back from her, tucking her wet hair behind her ear and gently tilting her chin up to look at him. Her lips were quivering and her hands were unsteady. 

“Darlin’ what happened?” he attempts to get her to answer him again.  

She looks at him anxiously, shivering and unable to find the ability to speak, shaking her head in an attempt to dismiss his concern. 

“Your heart is fuckin’ pounding, I know something happened,” he murmurs, taking in the sight of her trembling in the entryway. 

“Andy,” she eventually cries out, reaching for him and burying her face in his chest. “Andy,” she repeats, allowing the familiar feeling of safety in his arms to envelope her.  

“I’m right here,” he hums. “You’re alright, I have you.” I’ll always have you, so long as you want me to. 

He rubs her back, stricken by guilt for not going to search for her earlier. His chin rests atop her head, quietly shushing her until the sobs eventually subside.  

Pulling back from her slightly, he cups her face in his hands, gently wiping away the tears under her eyes. “My love... what’s going on, hm?” he asks.  

It takes her a few moments to respond, desperately trying to piece her thoughts together into coherent words. After a couple of thoughtful seconds, she settles on, “I think she’s nearby,” the realization dawning on her as she stood facing him. She hopes her vagueness was clear enough that she wouldn’t have to waste more energy elaborating. She wasn’t sure she had it in her. 

“What are you talking about – what happened to you out there? I mean, you were gone for hours.” If she had hurt her again...  

“I don’t know,” she begins. “I was just running, not really paying attention to where I was going... and then the rain started and I panicked, I – I thought I was lost.” 

He looks at her, silently encouraging her to continue. 

“Eventually found my way back, but then...” she trails off. 

“Then what?” he questions softly, trying to keep the urgency and panic out of his tone. 

“Heard...” she shakes her head. “Heard my name, like someone calling me over to them. A woman’s voice... then when I was getting closer to the door I thought I felt a hand on me. That’s why I screamed, I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

Tracing her cheeks with his thumbs once more, he assures her it’s alright. “I’m just proud of you for telling me,” he whispers against her forehead, fighting the instinct to press his lips to that same spot. “Why don’t you go get warm and dry, and I’ll make you dinner?” 

Agreeing, she slowly pulls away from him, padding to the bathroom to strip herself of her soaked clothing and take a hot shower. 

****************** 

After scrubbing herself clean under the scalding hot water to warm her cold bones, she throws her hair into a towel and wanders to the kitchen to find Andrew, not particularly caring if her hair was frizzy later.  

She finds him standing in front of the stove, absentmindedly humming a tune she didn’t recognize to himself while whatever delicious-smelling meal he was cooking simmers on the burner. He glances up at her, having heard her come in, and shoots her a gentle smile.  

“Should be about ten more minutes,” he remarks, tearing his attention from the pan momentarily in search of a glass in the cabinet. He lifts it in her direction, a silent offer for a drink. 

She nods, and a few moments later has a glassful of wine in her hand while she leans back against the counter, watching Andrew as he cooks.  

The silence was not as unbearable as it should have been, given how little time they’d spent in the same room recently. It wasn’t quite comfortable per se, but it was nearing that achievement. She soaks in the moment, swirling the glass around mindlessly as she gazes hungrily at the meal awaiting her. Pushing herself up onto the countertop, she takes a long sip of the wine, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. It was one of her favorites, one they’d shared many bottles of in the past. Well, mostly by her. 

“Can you drink this?”  

The question catches Andrew off guard, taking a moment to register what she said as he turns off the burner. “Ehm... technically, yes. Why?” 

“Sorry,” she chuckles, “I know that came out of nowhere. I just was thinking about when we used to share a bottle, so... just curious.” 

“It doesn’t exactly do all that much for me, but it doesn’t hurt me or anything. Same with food,” he shrugs, pulling a piece of meat from the pan and popping it into his mouth as if to demonstrate his point.  

“So then if you can eat, why don’t you generally keep food around?” she asks while he goes about preparing her plate. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she was the only one using the groceries he bought. “Unless that’s weird to ask, sorry. I’m new to this, I’ve never really known a vampire before. Is that offensive?” 

“You’re fine,” he laughs. “I don’t know, just kinda seemed pointless after a while.” 

There was a hint of sorrow behind that statement underscored by the way his eyes flick away from her, but she decides it best not to push him on it and risk ruining their oddly content domestic scene.  

He sets her plate of stir fry down at the table, taking the seat next to her and contentedly watching her, resting his chin in his palm. She eats mostly silently, but he’s grateful just to be spending time with her without being at each other’s throats. Despite everything, he could tell she was trying, and it was enough to reignite the tiny spark of hope buried deep within him. He tries to keep his focus on her in the present moment, not wanting his mind to wander to the implications of what she had told him when she got back. He had spent enough time doing that while she was in the shower. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” he hums, noticing the look on her face that she got when she was particularly lost in thought or trying to work through a problem. 

“Did you say something about my heartbeat earlier?” she asks bluntly, confusion saturating her tone. 

“Ehm...” he replies, rubbing at his collarbone while he stalls, trying to gauge what she was feeling about that possibility. “Maybe...” he winces. 

She raises an eyebrow at him in a plea for elaboration. “And...?” 

“And what?” he mutters. “I said something about it.” His voice has become nearly monotone, a defense mechanism kicking in against his better judgment. 

“Andrew,” she groans frustratedly. 

“Celine.” He could be a stubborn asshole when he wanted to be. 

“Andrew!” 

He closes his eyes for a moment, knowing he’d be unable to avoid the conversation he was hoping to put off for a while.  

“I can kind of sort of hear your heartbeat,” he mutters in a single breath, ripping that band aid off as fast as possible, his leg anxiously bouncing under the table. 

He risks sparing a glance at her, only to find a nearly unreadable expression on her face.  

“You... can hear my heartbeat.” It’s not phrased as a question, merely a confused repetition of his statement. 

“Correct.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I really don’t know what you want me to say, darlin’.” 

“I don’t know either,” she admits. “I just...” she trails off, gesturing aimlessly as if it would magically make the words she was looking for come to her, frustration written clearly across her face. 

“Supernatural hearing,” he shrugs, “not really much else to it.” 

She buries her face in her hands, forcing a deep breath into her lungs. Don’t freak out on him. This is exactly what you’re trying to work on, you always end up ruining things. 

“I can tell you’re nervous right now, the way it’s beating,” he explains himself a bit, instantly regretting it when she sees the look of horror in her expression. 

“What,” she repeats herself through gritted teeth, “the fuck?!” 

Figuring he might as well dig himself even deeper into the hole he had created for himself, he continues. “You know how I always knew when you were stressed, knew when to calm you down, even when you were really good at hiding it?” he grimaces. Why did he say anything? 

At that, something clicks into place for her. All the times she’d thought he was so sweet for noticing when something was wrong, all the times that he’d seemingly known her better than she knew herself... it was all because of this. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her privacy had been invaded without her knowledge. How could he do this to her? 

“All this time... all this time I thought you were just a really observant boyfriend, I -” 

“Baby. Breathe,” he cuts her off. The tension in her body was palpable, every beat and breath a struggle audible to him. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She sounds angry, betrayed. He couldn’t blame her. 

“I’m not trying to; I just don’t want you to have a fucking panic attack.” By some miracle, he manages to keep his voice steady. The last thing he needed right now was for his emotions to seep into it and make the conversation worse, inevitably setting their progress back even further. 

“Then how the fuck am I supposed to react to finding out my boyfriend was listening to my heartbeat without my knowledge for years?!” she snaps at him. “I - you invaded my privacy.” 

Do NOT focus on the fact that she dropped the “ex” in front of boyfriend, Andrew, he chides himself before working up the courage to respond.  

“Not on purpose – I’m not going to sit here and deny what you’re saying because I completely understand where you’re coming from, but it isn’t something I can just turn on and off.” 

“Can’t you choose to ignore it or something?”  

“Yes and no,” he begins to answer before cutting himself off, “Celine, honey. Please take a deep breath and let me explain.” 

She finds herself gasping as though she had forgotten how to breathe normally. Wordlessly, Andrew grabs her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and instructing her to focus on him, silently thanking the universe for her not immediately pulling away and making things worse.  

When her shaky breathing seems to regulate again and she’s no longer throwing accusations his way, he allows himself to continue his explanation. 

“As I was saying, I have some control over it; it’s hard to explain. But basically, I can focus it in on certain things when I pick up on something, I just can’t turn off the ability itself.” 

“So why focus on me, especially like that?” 

“I don’t know that I have a concrete explanation for you, other than being in love with you.” 

“God you are so cheesy even now, even during whatever this conversation is,” she groans, a hint of playfulness behind the statement. That was as good a sign as any that she was doing alright. 

“I’m serious,” he maintains despite the smile tugging at his lips. “A legitimate part of it is that it kept me grounded, because it was you.” 

“And the rest of it...?” She brushes past his statement, scared of letting herself become too endeared to him again, even though he somehow made it so easy. The bastard. 

“I came to know you well enough to pick up on even the most subtle changes, and I liked knowing that I could help you.” He’s a bit sheepish, not yet readjusted to the feeling of laying his heart out for her, especially not in this context. His heart was something that she had always, would always, hold in her hands; whether she was aware of the power she held over it – over him – or not was an entirely separate question. 

“Well shit, I feel like a bit of an asshole now,” she lets out a dry chuckle. “Your intentions were pure, I guess.”  

“You have every right to be upset, love. I did sort of keep a huge part of my life from you for our entire relationship.” 

“Yeah, you did, but that’s the understatement of the century,” she agrees, looking away from him, choosing to cast her gaze down to the empty plate in front of her. When she eventually flicks her gaze back toward him, she catches an almost amused expression on his face. “What?” 

“Nothing, just that this conversation has me thinking... do you remember that time you were watching our set from the crowd at that festival, and when you found me backstage afterwards, I was saying how you had me worried since I didn’t know where you were? That was because I’d lost track of your heartbeat and my first instinct was to assume that something terrible had happened.” He smiles fondly at the memory, remembering the relief he had felt when he pulled her into a hug in his dressing room. 

“Oh my god, really?” she laughs. “That makes so much sense for you, but... how did you lose track of it? Or actually, better question, how were you able to hold onto it in a crowd of thousands?” 

“One, sometimes my senses get overwhelmed and kind of shut down. Two, like I said, I can hone in on a particular sound if I focus enough. Even when all logic dictates it should be drowned out.” What he doesn’t add is that when it came to her, it was so natural to just gravitate towards that sound; he so rarely had to think about it. For fuck’s sake, he had it memorized like the back of his hand. It might as well be engraved into his brain. 

“God, this is all still so insane to me,” she muses.  

“I know,” he sighs. “But yeah, long story short, I have incredible hearing and I like to use being able to detect your heartbeat to protect you.” 

She rolls her eyes in a way that isn’t rude, but rather a reflection of how much she was trying to wrap her head around. She couldn’t quite shake the icky feeling that had settled over her at the beginning of their conversation, but felt more at ease with the knowledge that his unorthodox method of doing things came from a well-meaning place.  

“Okay, since we’re on the topic anyway, what else are you capable of? I don’t want any more secrets about that, the last thing I need is to find out you can fly in several months when it’s convenient for you to mention.” 

“Wait, I didn’t tell you about that one?” he cocks his head at her, eyes widening in surprise. 

Her jaw opens halfway, unsure of how to respond. 

“Relax, I’m fucking with you,” he giggles at his own sense of humor. “That would be cool though, wouldn’t it?” 

“I hate you.” 

“Mm, no you don’t.” A grin spreads across his face at their banter, a silly argument that would have been commonplace for them mere months ago. And for the first time in the months that had passed since, he could almost believe those words coming from his mouth. He can’t help the pang of sadness at wondering if this is how things could have been if he hadn’t kept this hidden and had just sat her down and told her from the beginning. 

“Whatever,” she mumbles, refusing to confirm or deny that statement despite the blush creeping up her face betraying her. Their dynamic had somehow become more casual over the course of sitting at the table together, a fact that gave her a sharp pang in her chest. This is how they were meant to be. 

“But to answer your question for real, I pretty much mostly just have very heightened senses, and I can move fast. And I can...” he practically gulps, fearing her reaction to the final piece of information he had to offer her. He really did not want to reveal this capability, but it was better that he be upfront with her now. “I can compel people. You know, make them do or believe whatever I want.” 

Her breath hitches as his words register in her brain, brow furrowing. She had known this was a possibility, had essentially accused him of it, but hearing the words come directly from his mouth hit her like a blow to the chest.  

“I don’t really use it,” he explains before her questions or accusations could come pouring in. “I don’t like having that kind of control over people, it isn’t right.” 

“Mhm.”  

Mhm. He’d rather personally give her a wooden stake to drive through his heart. 

“I don’t know what I can do to make you believe me, so I think you just need to trust me on this one, darling.” 

“How?”  

“No idea, but the only way this will work is if you trust me.” 

A distant “yeah.” 

He could practically feel her slipping through his fingers, fumbling as he desperately tries to hold her in place. They’d been doing so well and now he was fucking everything up by being open, the very thing that could have saved them so much grief. You’ll have time to wallow in self-hatred later, you selfish prick. This isn’t about you.  

“I have never, and will never, use it on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

She tilts her head back up to look at him, her eyes a bit glassy. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect about it, but I think I believe you.” The words were difficult to vocalize, but she offers her precarious trust to him anyway. 

“Darlin’, I would never expect you to be perfect.” You’re perfect to me already, he adds mentally. “I know this is hard, and I know that you’re trying.”  

“Thank you,” she chokes out, her throat sounding dry. 

About an hour later, she’s sound asleep under her covers. Andrew takes this time to clean up, inevitably reflecting on the events of the day. 

All things considered, their conversation about his powers went surprisingly well. He had certainly been expecting more screaming and crying, so the lack thereof was a pleasant surprise. And Celine was taking everything as best she could, given the situation. He knew this was a lot for her to wrap her head around, especially with the added stress that someone might be waiting for the right moment to strike. There it was; he knew his thoughts would drift back to that portion of the day eventually, he’d just foolishly hoped that he could avoid it until at least tomorrow.  

If Celine was right about this... He couldn’t even bear to finish that line of thinking. She may not know everything – hell, neither did he – but he had no reason to believe she wasn’t right. Chances were, the voice she’d heard, the hand she’d felt, were absolutely real, or at least a very well fabricated hallucination, courtesy of the only person Andrew ever found himself wishing he could kill.  

But he still couldn’t seem to figure out what her game was. Scare Celine, sure, but why not hurt her again? Was it just because she knew he was close by and wanted to drag this out for as long as possible? Or was scaring her just the next step in some elaborate plan? Did she have some other tactic she was trying? The worst part was that he somehow didn’t pick up on her presence. He’d heard Celine scream, but he had no idea what had happened until she tried to explain. He felt so guilty for not being able to prevent it from happening; he was grateful she hadn’t been hurt, but what if he’d been a second too slow? Or did that malicious piece of shit know better than to try something on his territory? How had she even figured out where he lived? 

He doesn’t realize just how frustrated and angry his lack of answers made him until the glass he’d been scrubbing at breaks in his hands, a tiny slice on his finger healing itself just as quickly as it had appeared. Get a hold of yourself, Andrew.  

He turns the tap off, picking the shards out of the sink and disposing of them before finishing up the remaining dishes.  

Drying his hands on the nearby kitchen towel, he calms himself with the peaceful sounds of Celine sleeping upstairs. He knew he shouldn’t, especially after their tense conversation earlier, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that she was safe and sound in the other room was his greatest solace. And he wouldn’t deny that the sense that he could do something to protect her made him feel good. Sue him, he was a simple man. 

He only allows himself to retreat to his room once he had triple checked that every door and window in the house was locked. It was pointless, given the paranormal nature of what they were dealing with, but somehow the action made him feel a bit more at ease; there were some traits left over from his days of humanity. Plus, it wasn’t like she would be able to get inside without permission; he’d purchased his home long after he had seen her for the last time. That fact alone eases his worried mind as he shuffles under his covers. 

His love was safe under his roof, and even if all else somehow failed, he was there with her.  

****************** 

With each passing day, Andrew and Celine manage to come to a greater sense of camaraderie with one another. She’d occasionally shoot him a distrustful glance, but all things considered, things felt okay, more okay than they had ever been since they had broken up. Patching up the sliver of friendship that remained between the two of them was hard work, but they were making the effort.  

Celine had even taken to initiating spending time together, which Andrew relished every moment of. It was often simple, sitting next to each other while reading their individual books, or her asking if she could listen to whatever music he was working on at the moment. It was never anything special, but he saw every second spent in the same room as her without an argument as a moment to be cherished. 

 And he couldn’t recall the last time that she’d berated him for using a pet name, letting him fall blissfully back into the old habit once more. He knew he shouldn’t, that it would only get his hopes up further, but he was allowing himself this one indulgence amidst the general turmoil he was experiencing otherwise. He couldn’t help it, that’s what he’d always see when he looked at her – his darling, his love, his angel; the list goes on. Even when she lost her temper with him over something trivial or fell back into a cycle of distrusting him, he only saw the woman he had fallen in love with, his partner. It wasn’t healthy to let himself continue to view her that way, but he figures that he could live in his delusions for a little bit longer. Was it so wrong of him to want to live in the fantasy of a once-attainable life when the illusion would be all he’d have left when this was inevitably all over? 

[this-isapen]

vampire hunter x vampzier, that's it that's the thought

[this-isapen]

Goodnight, I'm Going to Sleep

I come bearing some more fluff if you want it.

Word Count: 1593

Warnings: None

read on ao3!

fic under the cut :)

Andrew locks the door behind him, setting his keys on the table and kicking off his shoes almost immediately before trudging to his bedroom. He’d had a long, albeit productive, session in the studio today, and all he wanted was to climb into bed and ignore the world for the foreseeable future.  

He cracks open the door to the bedroom, momentarily surprised to find his wife still awake, lying in bed with her current read. She barely acknowledges his presence outside of a brief glance up at him before returning to her novel. He approaches the bed, silently removing the book from her hands and setting it on the nightstand next to her, eliciting a confused protest on her part. 

Without a word, he climbs into bed, practically collapsing on top of her with his face buried in her chest. He inhales deeply, allowing the familiar scent to comfort him. He was home now, his favorite spot to be. Sure, he’d seen her this morning, but it felt like an eternity since then with how busy he had been. 

“You alright?” she hums as he lets out a sigh, gently tugging his hair out of the bun he had pulled it into and running her fingers through his curls. 

“Long day,” he mumbles, his words muffled by the fabric of her shirt. 

“Want to talk about it?”  

“Don’t know,” he gives a halfhearted shrug in response. “What I do want is my girl.” 

“Well you have me, clearly,” she chuckles quietly, wrapping her free arm around Andrew while her other hand massages his scalp, pulling a content sound from deep within him. 

“Good.” 

Andrew had always been physically affectionate but tonight seemed clingy even for him. She didn’t mind though; the presence of his weight on top of her was comforting. She could tell from the minute he had stepped into the room that he was utterly exhausted. One look at him made it obvious that at any second he’d collapse into bed and be dead to the world until late into the following morning. She knew him well enough to not push him too much, knowing he’d talk to her eventually. 

He relishes in the feeling of her embrace, heart swelling at the little gestures that always made him feel so cared for, so loved. Maybe he had been the one to initiate, interrupting her to do so, but she easily could have told him off or made him get up. But instead, she held him and touched him in a way that always seemed to be soothing. Her embrace is warm and comforting, and he allows himself to sink into it, the heaviness of the day slowly melting away as he finds himself beginning to relax.  

She leans down, kissing the top of his head. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better. He’d always been very outwardly affectionate towards her, but something about the way she reciprocated never failed to touch his soul. He clings impossibly tighter to her, as if this were a dream he was hanging onto the edges of in a desperate attempt not to wake up. 

Soon, his eyes begin to flutter shut and he fights off sleep for as long as he can, drifting off a few times in the process. 

“Baby?” he manages to mumble between moments of unconsciousness. 

“Hm?” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she smiles, pressing another gentle kiss to his head.  

Content with that, his eyes flutter shut for the final time that night. A few minutes later, she hears her husband’s breathing deepen, knowing he’d be out for the night. “Sweet dreams,” she murmurs before reaching for the temporarily abandoned book, determined to finish the chapter she had been reading before inevitably succumbing to sleep herself. Under normal circumstances, she would have been annoyed with his antics, but she could tell that he was stressed about something, even if he wasn’t outwardly expressing that. 

She carefully balances the book over him, cautiously avoiding pressing it into him given their current position. Her eyes dart over the words in front of her, her brain choosing to focus more on her husband’s soft breathing. Eventually, she puts the book back down and shuts the light off, gently pressing her lips to his head once more.  

She lays there awhile, absentmindedly playing with his hair even while he slept. She knew it tended to relax him, but the repetitive motion often soothed her just as much, giving her something to do with her hands. Sleep eventually takes her as well, drifting off peacefully in the warm comfort of their shared bed, her love sleeping soundly on top of her. 

_____ 

She wakes, finding the two of them still entangled in the exact position they’d fallen asleep in. She’s unable to resist the smile that tugs at her lips as her tired eyes adjust to take in the view of him clung to her, the soft morning light highlighting his features. She enjoys the quiet of the morning, always grateful to experience these little moments with him, which could be so rare when he was touring.  

About an hour later, she decides to get up to make coffee, slipping out from his embrace as carefully as possible so as not to wake him. He always seemed so peaceful when he slept.  

She’s brewing a pot when she feels his familiar arms wrap around her waist, his face nuzzling into her neck. 

“Didn’t hear you come in,” she notes. “Sleep well? I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“‘M fine,” he murmurs sleepily into her skin, planting a chaste kiss to her neck. “Missed you.” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve been in the kitchen maybe ten minutes,” she breathes a gentle laugh. 

“Yeah, but you still weren’t in bed when I woke up, which is rude of you, quite honestly.” 

“Starting with the dramatics already, are we?” she muses, smirking to herself. 

“Who would I be if the answer to that question was no?” he teases, his smile wide enough that she can feel it despite not facing him. 

“Hmm I suppose you have a point,” she giggles. “Coffee?”  

“Please.” 

“Kinda need to move, babe.” 

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically, releasing his grip on her and taking a seat at the kitchen island. 

She grabs two mugs from the cabinet, silly ones that they had collected over the years, consistent with most of the ones they owned at this point. She pours the hot liquid into one of them, handing the simple black coffee to Andrew, who accepts it gratefully with a soft peck to her cheek before fixing her own cup to her preferred tastes and taking the seat next to him. 

He wraps one hand around the steaming cup, reaching the other out towards hers. She glances at him confusedly but places her hand in his. It only takes a few moments before she feels the pad of his thumb gently rubbing at the back of her hand, something he usually did to soothe either her or himself when one of them was anxious. 

The two of them sit in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence while taking the occasional sip of their coffee.  

“Baby?” Andrew is the first to break the quiet. 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“For what?” she asks, brow furrowing in confusion. Pouring him a cup of coffee didn’t exactly require much effort. 

“Everything,” he shrugs. “But especially for just holding me last night.” 

“Not something you have to thank me for, Andy. I’m your partner, that’s kind of part of my job description.” 

“No, I know, but... I don’t know, I just really appreciate it. Appreciate you.” 

She leans towards him, planting a kiss to his shoulder. “Any time, babe.” 

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asks, almost timidly. 

“Nothing, really. Why?” 

“What if,” he hesitates. “What if we just go back to bed?” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, a silent urge for him to elaborate. 

“I was just thinking we could spend the day doing nothing together,” he shrugs, smiling sheepishly at her. 

A smile spreads across her face at the thought. “I’d love nothing more.” 

They finish their coffees, deciding on another cup each, before heading back into their room. The two climb under the covers, sitting against the headboard. Andrew outstretches his arm, beckoning her to him, pulling her into his side where he drops a kiss to the top of her head. He felt at his most content when she was curled into him like this, and he soaks up every second spent with her. Both of them generally try to make an effort to enjoy moments like this whenever possible, and the events of the previous night made doing so this morning simple.  

They spend the rest of the day like this, enjoying the presence of one another, oscillating between  periods of talking about everything and nothing or silently doing individual activities together. Dinner time rolls around eventually, briefly pulling them from their lazy Saturday to answer the door for the pizza delivery. They end up curled up together on the couch, half paying attention to a movie they’d watched a thousand times while they munch on their food.  

About halfway through, she’s fallen asleep on him and he hugs her a little tighter, covering her with a blanket. One of his favorite feelings in the world was having her sleeping on him. He may have been overwhelmed yesterday, but this made it completely worth it. 

[this-isapen]

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