#Listening to hozier is both a blessing and a curse

[whimzycle]

"..."

"This is really weird..."

[assriels]

take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express. 

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child. 

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him. 

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment. 

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps. 

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight. 

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.” 

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time. 

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.” 

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body. 

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully. 

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart. 

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. 

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to. 

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away. 

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by. 

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders. 

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed. 

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest. 

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours. 

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue. 

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water. 

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful. 

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.) 

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples. 

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure. 

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath. 

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers. 

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts. 

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came. 

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub. 

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form. 

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom. 

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought. 

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back. 

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit. 

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections. 

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over. 

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head. 

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted. 

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips. 

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart. 

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin. 

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice. 

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage. 

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear. 

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way. 

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment. 

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck. 

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her. 

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration. 

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed. 

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it. 

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXV)

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some embarrassing scenes for both our babies… it’s pretty cute! Also, Siobhán is back, hence the poem!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2247

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

A Friend

A person who will listen and not condemn Someone on whom you can depend They will not flee when bad times are here Instead they will be there to lend an ear They will think of ways to make you smile So you can be happy for a while When times are good and happy there after They will be there to share the laughter Do not forget your friends at all For they pick you up when you fall Do not expect to just take and hold Give friendship back, it is pure gold.

Gillian Jones

You were kissing him.

Hands in his hair, gently pulling, not enough to hurt, but enough to tug and make his brain short-circuit altogether.

Your lips left his for a moment, he blinked his eyes open, bending further to keep you close. You were in his arms, he was holding you against him, and you were bringing your lips to his ear, and it was divine, really, the feeling of you so close, your warm breath fanning over his cheek as you whispered.

“Andy, I want you…”

He held your face then, to bring your lips back to his, and you let him… and not only did you let him kiss you, you let him deepen that kiss, you kissed him back, you moaned into his mouth…

“I want you,” he whispered against your lips, breathing heavily, panting even. “God, you have no idea how much I want you, Y/N…”

You kissed again, both of you breathless while you struggled to walk across your living room, and all the way across your flat. You stumbled a little on the bed, both of you struggling to take your clothes off.

And suddenly there was so much skin to touch, to kiss, to gently bite on…

The way you sighed his name…

“Andy…”

He was kissing the skin of your thighs when you spoke his name again, louder this time.

“Andy.”

Your taste on his lips when you shouted, but it didn’t sound like a pleasurable cry…

“Andy!”

Andrew jumped up, startled, opening his eyes and falling onto the floor as the chair under him was pushed away by his rushed movements.

“Christ! Andy, you’re alright?”

He blinked, facing wooden tiles, a floor he recognised instantly…

“Andy?”

He looked up, following your voice. You were crouching by his side, fully dressed, in your black jeans and blue jumper, staring at him with worry in your eyes.

His eyes grew round.

He was at work. He had fallen asleep, he was in your office, in the same room as you while he dreamt of…

He sat up in a hurry, blushing to an extreme, looking anywhere but in your direction. Jesus… how could he ever look at you again…

His breathing was a mess, you stared at him with worried eyes, he knew you did, he could feel your gaze on him and the intention behind it.

“You’re okay? You look like you’re panicking…”

“I’m alright, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, you just… you were dozing off. I should have been more… gentle, I guess, to wake you up.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 10 p.m.”

“Christ, we should go home anyway. Thank you for waking me.”

He was still doing his best to look away, to not make eye-contact with you…

… for now, he could see your eyes looking down on him while his tongue was…

“Well, if it makes you fall off your chair, that must have been some dream you were having,” you joked, unaware of how true your words were.

“Yeah,” he joked. “I don’t know, can’t remember to be fair.”

He was finally back on his feet, and you were standing too. You gave him a smile, again, he wasn’t looking at you but he could feel it. He could hear it in your voice too.

“You look flustered, Andy,” you chuckled.

He nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

A lie, a lie, a lie… he needed to find a lie. He couldn’t tell you the truth, obviously, how he had dreamt of kissing you, of doing much more than simply kissing you…

He rested his hand on his desk for support, but when he looked as his own fingers, he could see them again touching your bare skin, picture them pleasuring you…

He cleared his throat, reached for his jacket.

“Yeah, well… I did fall asleep on the job and then made an arse of myself so…”

“Oh, Andy…”

Your voice was so soft, so filled with fondness that he had to look up at you.

“You truly are adorable when you blush, you know?” you said, and even though he guessed that there was teasing in your words, your voice sounded too genuine to feel this way.

You chuckled, embarrassed at your confession, it seemed. You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then you started laughing, trying to hide it behind your hand at first, but then you were gone in a fit of laughter.

“You…” you choked on your own words, brushing tears away, and your laugh was so infectious, Andrew started to chuckle as well. “You falling from your chair… was hilarious though… you just…”

You dramatically imitated his fall, making him explode with laughter too. You couldn’t stop laughing for a good five minutes, both of you holding your painful stomachs.

“You’re right though, let’s go home. It’s late, I’m exhausted… and we do have to do this all over again tomorrow.”

“My God… don’t mention that…” Andrew smiled, waiting for you to turn off your computer and put on your coat.

For once, he would have preferred to make a quick escape, so he could curse at himself all he wanted and let himself fully feel the unbearable weight of embarrassment that came with his fantasies; but it would have seemed strange, completely out of character and habits, and he didn’t want you to ask more questions.

He walked with you out of the empty building and all the way to your cars. You chatted about the classes you had the next day, the book he had just begun reading. It was so easy, talking with you, Andrew almost forgot his dream. He was only hit with the memory again when you turned to him to bid him good night, all grin and shiny smile, looking unbearably beautiful in the orange streetlights. He wanted to kiss you again then, and that’s when the images came back, how he imagined you lying in bed under him, moaning his name…

He cleared his throat, bid you good night and hurried to disappear into his car while he fiercely blushed again.

“Y/N!”

“SIOBHÁN!”

People looked at the two of you as you ran across the train station, falling into each other’s arms, but none of you cared. Your best friend was back for a week, you had so many things to say and do together!

You helped her with her luggage while you crossed the station, then the parking lot all the way to your car. Before going to your flat, you needed to drop by Trinity for a meeting with Lydia you couldn’t move around in your schedule. There would be a conference organised later this year, hosted by Trinity, and she needed to start planning some details with you. Lydia wanted you for a conference, even if she hadn’t asked you officially yet, it was obviously the reason behind that meeting. You were grateful already that she would include you as one of the main speakers.

So, you took Siobhán to Trinity, showed her your building, got a coffee with her before heading to your office. She had brought her laptop, wanted to get some work done while waiting for you. After all, no one was truly on vacation when doing an academic job…

You spent some time talking with Colm in the corridor leading to your office, and he greeted your friend with a joyous tone. You were surprised to learn that he knew about Siobhán’s work, and you were almost ready to leave them alone for the rest of the afternoon as they were enthralled in a discussion about their work, when the door to your office opened. You saw Andrew walking out, bending down to avoid the doorframe. He greeted you with a warm smile, one that turned shyer when he noticed your friend.

Meanwhile, you saw the way Siobhán was raising a surprised eyebrow at your colleague, the way she blinked a couple of times and let her eyes trail along his frame for a couple of seconds, before catching herself.

“Hi, Andy!”

Siobhán sent you a questioning look that silently asked ‘THIS is Andy?!’

“Hi,” he answered with a tender smile.

“I’m glad to bump into you! I wanted to introduce you to my good friend, Siobhán! She’s staying in Dublin for a week. This is Andrew,” you added as you turned to Siobhán, without any other explanation. After all, you talked about Andrew often… or maybe, all the time.

“That’s very nice to meet you,” Andrew spoke in his softest, quietest voice, the one he used when he was feeling particularly shy, or when he wanted to soothe people around him.

He offered your friend his open palm, and she shook his hand with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you too! Y/N can’t stop yapping about you, you know?”

You nudged her in the ribs, but she barely noticed. Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, and yet you witnessed his expression turning into a smug one, almost cheeky.

“Does she now?” he asked, his tone teasing, and you hated your stupid heart for skipping a few beats at the light in his eyes, at how low and deep his voice sounded, at the hint of flirt in his tone…

“All the time. It’s exhausting!”

“Siobhán!” you complained, but your friend merely shrugged.

“Just telling the truth!”

“I only hope Y/N doesn’t tell too many bad things about me.”

“Nah, don’t worry! On the contrary!”

“Alright, we’ve got to go now, sorry! Weren’t you heading for a class, Andy?”

“I was, yeah…”

“Good…”

“But I can stay five more minutes if your friend can provide us with some terribly humiliating stories about you…”

“Ha, I’m afraid I can’t disclose such information to you, Andrew,” Siobhán replied.

“Really? Why not?”

“I have a feeling she would prefer to be more… attractive, to you.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow again, while your eyes were going as round as saucers.

“Bye, Andy,” you mumbled under your breath, grabbing Siobhán by the arm and dragging her inside your office while she waved at Andrew. You didn’t turn around to see his reaction, didn’t want to bear witness to your own humiliation…

You shut the door and locked it before turning to your friend, aghast.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Are you banging him?!”

“What?! Of course not! He’s a colleague! He’s a friend!”

“He’s so bloody hot, though, Y/N…”

“Siobhán!”

“I am only speaking the truth. You’re single. He’s single. You’re hot. He’s hot. It all comes together beautifully. And such a nice voice he has… so damn sexy…”

“I am not sleeping with Andy nor will I sleep with him in the future.”

“He likes you.”

You snorted.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied sarcastically.

“He does! Did you see the way he beamed at you? He’s into you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is!”

“He’s not!”

“But you are into him.”

You blinked, opened and closed your mouth a couple of times trying to think of something to say, of an argument to find… but there was nothing that could come out of your mouth for a long time. Too long for your next words to be believed by this woman who knew you better than yourself.

“I… am not! I’m not! Not at all!”

“Oh, yes… you are…”

“I am not! I… I’m trying to get Frank back!”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but you merely heaved a sigh.

“Sorry, I really do have to go to my meeting now, I’ll be back later.”

You left for your meeting, which turned into exactly what you had expected. You obviously accepted to be one of the speakers at the conference, and started planning a subject for your lecture.

Over an hour later, when you came back to your office, Andrew was chatting with Siobhán. You recognised his nervous laughter, the way he bent his shoulders a little to seem smaller and less intimidating. He was shy, but he seemed to genuinely get along fine with your friend, and for some reason, you felt a great feeling of pride run through you at the sight.

They both turned to you as you entered the room.

“So?” Andy asked, and you merely grinned at him. “Ha! I knew she would ask you to be one of the speakers!”

“Has she asked you yet?”

Andrew shook his head.

“I’ll apply, once we can officially do so.”

“Fingers crossed!”

He heaved a painful sigh.

“Christ, I hate those things…”

The three of you kept on chatting for a little while, but then Andrew was heading to another class, and you and Siobhán were going home. You had barely walked out of the building that your friend held onto your arm and leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“Christ, Andrew is so much better than Frank. I give the two of you my blessing!”

You rolled your eyes.

“There’s nothing between us!”

“There should be! You deserve someone better than Frank. Someone like Andrew. Someone who looks at you the way Andrew does.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned at her words.

She gave you a knowing look.

“Y/N… his eyes lit up every time I mentioned you. He was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon… the lad is a goner. Don’t waste your chance.”

You laughed at her, brushed it all off, told her she was mad and should stop talking nonsense. Andrew didn’t even like you. He couldn’t have…

… could he?

[just-floetcoeur]

Random thoughts on Shad

At 3am and in random order

“I would shun the light, share in evening's cool and quiet. Who would trade that hum of night for sunlight? But whose heart would not take flight? Betray the moon as acolyte on first and fierce affirming sight of sunlight. I had been lost to you, and flew like a moth to you, sunlight. […] Each day, you'd rise with me. Know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty. Strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily. With wax melted, I'd meet the sea under sunlight.”

-Sunlight, Hozier

Doodle of pre divine warrior Shad to retain your attention.

I was just listening to Sunlight by Hozier and thought it partially represent my concept of Shad‘s love for Irene. Because in some way he is the Icarus to Irene’ story. His obsession for Irene’s light and warmth is what caused his downfall.

This is a headcanon of mine -and I’m ignoring the story with Shad’s daughter- that, yes, the betrayal of the divine warriors caused him to go mad but it was only the little drop that tipped the scale. He already had years worth of repressed jealousy for Irene. It’s what caused him to battle her then fall in love with her and made him desire her death.

I use songs a lot as inspiration so I see it kinda like my interpretation of Buy the Stars by MARINA: “You bought a star in the sky tonight because your life is dark and it needs some light. You named it after me […] You bought a star in the sky tonight and in your man-made dark the light inside you died.” He is basically a being of the shadows and he’s been treated like a monster his whole life. So having that bit of light that is Irene is his only life buoy. He cherishes that light but also despises it. Why can’t he be the light in people’s lives? Why does he have to be the darkness? But there is no shadow without light so Irene is both the only thing giving him joy but also the cause of many of his flaws. (I don’t know if that makes sense.) He became obsessed with her, he wants to be her. He wants to be adored and loved. Her choosing to love him was everything to him. The person he admired loved him? Then he must’ve done something right in his life. He would’ve done everything for her. And having her friends betray him because “he was the source of all evil” was just a confirmation that despite everything he had sacrificed for the light, people still saw him as a beast from the dark. I mean compared to Irene who had given up everything to selflessly save this realm, he was nothing. So he came to the conclusion that Irene had to die. The whole world had to be destroyed for ignoring him. “You're buying stars to shut out the light. We come alone and alone we die. […] We don't own our heavens. Now, we only own our hell.” Basically, his pursue of the light is pointless because he relies heavily on the light instead of facing his darkness himself. So as soon as that light turns her back from him, he gives in to the dark.

“I will make this curse my blessing.” The relic was a curse because of the destructive powers it contained but also because it represented all that Shad hated about himself (“destroyer” is quite a negative therm and Shad was desperately trying to stray away from the dark. Also he already had divine powers himself who basically caused everybody to hate him.)

Closing thoughts: The song Skeleton Song by Kate Nash (specifically the Traveller-Feather MAP) and Razia’s Shadow gave me a thought. Irene and Shad are stuck in a never ending cycle of violence that started with love that turned into hate and needs to be returned to love to end. I don’t know exactly how but that’s how I see Shad go from the Shadow Lord to the Judgement in mystreet. (Even though Shad is beyond redemption at this point.)

Brain hurts, need rest

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| As It Was ||

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Tags/warnings: blip angst 😭 but don't worry I wouldn't hurt you like that 😊 @munsonownsmyass gave me the title for an ask game where I'd answer with what kind of fic I'd write for it. I didn't even know it was a Hozier song when I replied that I'd write a blip fic where Frank loses Matt... then I listened to it so many times, read the lyrics and I was just like, fuck.

There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was

"I'm just looking after the place y'know, for when he gets back."

Karen nodded, her hand resting softly on Frank's arm as she hoped that them all just believing it would happen would be enough.

When he had found that Karen had been covering the rent and bills for Matt's apartment, Frank had taken them on and eventually with her encouragement, he moved in.

At that time it had been almost a year since half the world went away, since half of Frank's heart was lost. A void that suddenly appeared in his life and sucked everything into the deepest, blackest hole.

Of course there were others, close friends and all the everyday figures in their lives that they must have taken for granted before, all disappeared without trace, but none of them hurt as deep as the love he'd lost. He was shredded up inside, hollow and empty but for the small sliver of hope he held up, the only thing still keeping him going. Keeping him alive.

The empty apartment was both a blessing and a curse. There he could be closest to what remained of Matt, his scent ingrained into the place. Sometimes it was the biggest comfort, but the memories also made it the hardest place on earth to be. He had wandered at first, like a lost dog looking for his owner. He had to try to look, people just didn't vanish into thin air, it just wasn't possible. Although with the kind of shit that had been happening in New York in recent years who knew.

Eventually he admitted that he had to find a coping mechanism. He threw himself into work, helped Foggy and Karen as much as he could, tracking down case leads and threatening those that stood in the way of justice for the people who had lost everything. And before returning 'home', he'd work second and often third jobs just so he didn't have the time or energy to think or dream about him, using hard labour to try to achieve such a state of physical exhaustion so that sleep came sterile and dreamless.

Even so he'd wake up with red eyes, dreaming of Matt reaching out to him and then blowing away on a gentle wind, disintegrating right before him. It didn't even happen like that. He wasn't even with him. They were miles upon miles apart, Frank chasing yet another gang across Middle America for vengeance. Fuck, how selfish he'd been in hindsight. If it wasn't for his blind rage he could have been there with Matt, maybe it could have been different. Maybe it would have taken him instead somehow, he didn't know but it killed him that he hadn't been there.

Just as it was, baby

Before the otherness came

And I knew its name

The love, the dark, the light, the flame

He knows it's futile but his iron grip never lessens even after the months turn to years. The worst part of it is it's not like missing someone as if they had died, at least then you know they're really gone and never coming back. Sometimes he'd experience something, hear something and think, you'd love this, Red.

Years passed and he witnessed others 'getting back to normal', trying to make something of their forever changed lives, some of them meeting to talk through it as therapy, some moving on and dating again.

"You'll always love him Frank, I know that, but it's okay if you want to. Matt would want you to live your life." Karen would tell him, but he would shake his head and give her the same stubborn look.

"I don't wanna live my life without him."

The eyes at the heights of my baby

Let's hope at the fight of my baby

The lights were as bright as my baby

But your love was unmoved

And so Frank didn't move on. He carefully tended the memories he had for fear they would fade, honoured Matt's way of doing good for the people of their city, and prepared for the time when his lover would walk through that door and back into his arms again.

Except he wasn't prepared, no-one was.

When it happened, Frank was backing up the truck in the workyard.

"Woah woah! What the fuck dude?!" A female voice was screaming from behind.

Frank slammed on the brakes, his eyes darting up to the rearview. He could have sworn there wasn't a single soul around when he checked his mirrors and blindspot just a second ago. He cut the engine and got out. The girl he saw in the mirror strode angrily up to meet him.

"Hey buddy, look where the hell you're going next time, you nearly leveled me coming out of nowhere like that!"

Frank squinted at her for a second as she looked around in confusion.

"Where's my car? I parked up right here a couple of minutes ago…"

He shrugged. "Look, I'm real sorry for the scare but there ain't nobody else here but me lady, and I ain't seen no car either. You okay?" Frank asked. The girl was clearly convinced someone had stolen her car.

"It was literally just here! I just locked it to go to the sto-" she cut off, her eyes flicking around the building site they were standing in the middle of. "Where's the… store?"

Frank shook his head. "Ain't been a store here for 'bout 3 years now, you sure you-"

Realisation hit him so suddenly that his heart felt like it was going to fall through him, his awareness spreading out to the frenetic sounds of the nearby street, yelling, car horns honking and a hell of a commotion. Frank paled. The girl tipped her head as she heard it too.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on, mister?"

Frank takes a deep breath to try and keep his heart from exploding in panic. "Kid, do you have family nearby? Can I give you a ride someplace? I'll explain everything on the way, trust me."

.

Frank sped home as fast as he could after dropping off the girl to elated and tearful parents, but the streets were pure chaos with nearly everyone trying to do the same thing, desperate to find their loved ones. He caught himself trying to make rare contact with the Big Guy under his breath, a prayer, a mantra that Matt would be there when he got to the apartment, that he'd just appear like the others did. His phone rang out as he ditched the truck streets away and took to running. It was Karen.

She was yelling the words out at a hundred miles a minute. "Frank, they're back! They just appeared, we blinked and there were clients in the office! They don't know, oh god they don't know what happened! Frank where are you you've got to-"

"I know, I'm on my way, he's gotta be there… he's gotta be."

She murmured her agreement. He could hear the tears in her voice. "Let me know, please let me know. There's people I need to- we all need to check on–"

"I know sweetheart. Don't you worry, I'll catch up with you later. You be careful alright?"

She sobs. "Frank… they're back."

He stops before unlocking the door, gives himself a beat.

To do what? Prepare himself to be heartbroken again?

Fuck it.

Just go in, get it over with.

He opens the door, it's quiet. It's like it always is, empty.

Then he feels it.

A draft from upstairs where the door is ajar.

The roof.

He takes those fucking stairs three at a time, slamming the door open all the way when he reaches the top.

"Frank?"

And tell me if somehow some of it remained

How long you would wait for me?

How long I've been away?

The shape that I'm in now is shaping the doorway

Make your good love known to me

Just tell me about your day

Frank stares. He's looking at a ghost. Matt is right there, standing on the roof turning to face him. He doesn't dare blink in case he loses him again. Matt is there. He starts walking quickly towards him, bundling him into his arms, holding his face, kissing him all over and squeezing him so tight that Matt starts laughing.

"Hey! You're back earlier than I thought." Matt says in surprise, momentarily turning his attention away from the unusual commotion he can hear from the nearby streets and apartments. "What's going on?"

Frank buries his face into Matt's shoulder, still hugging him like a bear. He tries to stop his hands from shaking by pressing his fingers into the soft fabric of Matt's hoodie, feeling him so solid and real under them.

"I–I'm gonna need you to say my name again, please baby…"

Matt's brow furrows in confusion but he does as he asks. "Frank, you're only been gone a few days, did you really miss me that much?"

Then the tears come.

"Baby, you don't know, you don't know–" Frank sobs against Matt's shoulder, his voice breaking.

Matt holds him steady. "Hey, you need to tell me what's wrong, what happened? I can hear so many people crying, so much confusion… the air smells different, your heart's beating so fast, I know something's changed, tell me…"

Frank pulls back a little, tries to wrangle his emotions for long enough to try and explain this unbelievable thing, but where the hell do you start?

"God, I don't even know how to…"

Matt's hand comes to his face, he strokes over Frank's damp cheek with his thumb. "It's alright, just take your time."

Frank chokes out a sad laugh. "Fuck, I've had nothin' but time, five years of it, Matt. You… and half the world… you were just gone, nobody knew where, what had happened." He leans his forehead against Matt's, "but I knew you'd come back, goddamn I just knew it somehow."

It's Matt's turn to hold onto Frank as he tries to process what he's hearing.

"I… was gone for five years?"

"C'mon let's go inside, huh?"

After he does his best to explain the Avengers, Thanos, and the infinity stones, Frank finds he's not so surprised with how well Matt has taken the news. He fills him in with the work he'd been doing with Karen and Foggy and Matt beams with pride and relief that his friends were okay.

He doesn't know if Matt's ready to answer such a question, or if it's too much, but he has to know. It's been eating him up since that day.

"When it happened, did… did you feel it?"

"It was strange. I guess it was like, everything just kinda… falling away." He reaches for Frank's hand, placing his own on top.

Frank scrubs his free hand over his face. "Jesus-"

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here." Matt soothes, interlocking their fingers and leaning his body against him.

Frank can't stop pinching himself, making sure this isn't just another cruel dream, that Matt was definitely here to stay and wouldn't fade into a whisper on the wind again when he least expected. He stays close regardless, sits with him on the couch as he touches his face, feels his way around those rugged features even though to Matt it was only a few days ago that he last mapped them out in bed. He's not much changed, maybe the lines around his eyes are a little deeper. He can feel Frank's body as they hold each other, he's leaner, muscle distributed differently to how he was before. Some of his edges have worn, he's softer in his demeanor.

Frank draws Matt's hand to his chest just above his heart. "This is the one thing that ain't changed. Never once stopped thinkin' about you. Never stopped loving you."

Matt sees a reel of what Frank has gone through in his mind, waiting for him, holding on to the thinnest morsel of hope, never moving on. It's a bittersweet thought, his own heart breaking thinking how he'd feel if it had been the other way. His eyes shine with tears.

Frank caresses the side of Matt's face, runs his fingers through the strands of his hair as he peppers kisses along his jawline, treasuring the small gesture so much more now.

The eyes at the heights of my baby

Let's hope at the fight of my baby

The lights were as bright as my baby

But your love was unmoved

"Couldn't bear acceptin' that you were– you'd gone for good y'know? I just couldn't. It kept me goin'."

The tears fall down Matt's face and Frank does his best to kiss them all away. His voice is cracked and rough and he's a mess, they're both a fucking mess but they don't care.

"You waited for me?"

Frank can't help acting like it's an insult to think he wouldn't. "You kiddin' me? You're worth waitin' for baby. I'd wait twenty, hell, I'd wait fifty years if it meant I got to see this face again."

"God, I'm sorry… I'm sorry I left you like that. I'm sorry I left you–" Matt croaks the words out and Frank's shaking his head hard, pulling him closer, holding him to his bones. He can't bear Matt feeling like it's somehow his fault.

"Nah, c'mon don't you do that. Don't you try and take on guilt that ain't even yours. You're here baby, you're back, everyone's back and that's all that matters, right?"

Matt sniffs and finally nods. They sit in silence for a while, content just to exist with each other.

"There's so much to catch up on."

Frank can hear a slight lift in the tone of Matt's voice and it makes him chance a smile, hoping it will stick, that there will be so many more reasons for him to smile like this again.

And the sights were as stark as my baby

And the cold was as sharp as my baby

And the nights were as dark as my baby

Half as beautiful too.

[baby-dr1ver]

19 with Sam Wilson I’m begging you

can you imagine the amount of SASS that would come from him. 

Paring: Sam Wilson x reader (all platonic), Special guest Bucky Barnes, and Zemo but make it unconscious

Rating: fluff?, mentions of dead bodys

come talk to me!

Being Sam’s safe heaven was a curse and a blessing. A blessing because he always brought nice company and good cookin’. A curse because, well, him and his “not teammate” tend to leave a mess when they tornadoed through. 

Today was no different. You had been making some tea in the kitchen while ‘real people do’ by Hozier played in the background. You deserved the break after the long day you had. Dealing with people was not your forte. Mid-pour of your tea, you phone rang, startling you and making yo spill some tea. “Damnit, whoever this is better have a damn good reason-” You looked at your phone to see it was Sam. Of fucking course it was. You picked up the phone and sighed, “What can I do for you Sam?” He was taken back.

“Now, who said I needed anything? Couldn’t I just call my friend to-” 

“No, Sam, now tell me what you need so I can go to bed.” You heard a sigh on the other end. 

“We need a place to crash for a few days, just to recover, and then we will be out of your hair, I promise.” You didn’t even have to ask who ‘we’ was. 

“Yeah yeah, I know Sam, the doors unlocked and you and Buck know where everything is. Tell cyborg I say hi.” 

Sam chuckled at your petty use of a nickname, “Will do, see you soon.” 

Over the next hour you drank your tea, watched an episode of Criminal Minds, and called it a night. You just got into bed and started drifiting off before you heard a loud bang echo through your house. Then some hushed voices. 

“Keep it down you idiot”

“It’s not my fault he weighs a fucking ton”

“Your a super soldier, for gods sake bucky”

They didn’t get to continue the conversation much longer before you stomped dounstairs and demanded to know what was happening. You could see Bucky push something into the kitchen, was that- oh god was that a human?

“I’m going to give you 30 seconds to tell me whats going on before I kick both of your asses”

Bucky spoke up, “well you wouldn’t really-”

“Both of y’alls asses”

Sam sighed before he started to explain, “Okay listen Y/N, we had to bring a uh- uhm a- a guest with us?” My god, these men were goign to be the death of you.

“Okay, who is this guest of yours?” Bucky started to fidget and get nervous.

“Well you see, he’s not exactly-”

“Bucky! Where is he?” 

“The kicthen.” Bucky squeaked out. Oh god, you forgot he’s still sensitive and doesn’t like to be yelled at. As you walked past him you gave him a squeez on his arm and a soft ‘i’m sorry’ before walking into the kitchen. 

Once you saw who your ‘guest’ was you turned to Sam with a angry expression, "You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen" Sam gawked at you, “Hey now, he’s not technically dead, he’s just uh- unconcsious” They both made a habit of bringing in, bloody, bad guys and making a mess. 

“You know what, I’m to tired for this, I’m going to bed, please clean up the mess.” You gave them both a kiss on the cheek, and gave them a small ‘goodnight’ 

‘Night Y/N’

“Night pipsqueak’

[dissident-vedder]

- like real people do ( 𝐀. 𝐊. )

ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!

person a and b having a romantic lunch date over school cafeteria vegan nuggets and cold french fries.

INSPIRATIONS - like real people by hozier. prompt by @otp-prompts-for-you​.

THIS FIC CONTAINS curse words. 

A/N - layout by @adoresobs​! the vegan nuggets were inspired a lot by @sideways-falling​‘s vegan tags in her animal posts and the many hours we have spent talking about ak! this fic is also a high school!au, so anthony and the reader are around 17/18. the mr. smith part is based on my real life teacher, but name and class were changed, lol.

pushing the tupperware box towards you, anthony smiles as he opens his own, happy that he was finally able to spend a quiet lunch with you. hillel, michael, and jack usually trailed behind you both, so once they told him they were spending lunchtime in the music room, he was excited to be able to finally be alone with you at school. the two of you had met during a poetry workshop class, and the two immediately hit it off. in order to ask you out, he had written a page long poem about what he found interesting about you, and it made you begin to see yourself in ways you never thought possible. your self-esteem and confidence went through the roof when anthony was around.

he made sure what your diet was, never judging you when you told him you were a vegan. he wasn’t, of course, but once he got the gist of the diet, he adopted it, replacing all animal-based products with certified vegan groceries, and one year into your relationship, he replaced everything in his diet to a vegan substitute. 

“how was mr. smith’s class?” he asked you, biting into a soggy french fry that he had packed. the sun was shining brightly on you, the courtyard filled with eating students.

you rolled your eyes, sighing heavily as you readied yourself for your rant. “it absolutely sucked ass! he collects the notebooks, gave us problems from the stupid algebra book to do, and at the end of class, he tells me that i did not, and i quote, ‘write my notes properly.’ how the fuck do i write notes properly? it’s based on how i fucking understand the fucking problem!” two people sitting nearby eyed you suspiciously. you sipped at your water bottle, fuming at your math teacher as anthony reached over to rub your shoulder to calm you down. he had mr. smith the previous year, and knew the frustration he had given many juniors in the years he worked at fairfax. “anyway,” you smiled softly at him, “how was mrs. anita’s class?”

he shrugged, chewing on a nugget as he thought of his answer. “she was out on maternity leave.”

“she had the baby?” 

he laughed, “she had the baby.” a glazed look came over anthony’s eyes, and you knew he was thinking about it, wondering what the gender was and what it could possibly look like. on multiple occasions, mrs. anita’s husband came into the class (mrs. anita was his class sponsor), and would bring multiple boxes of pizza with him (vegetarian and regular). anthony had talked about wanting a child in the near future, and every time he talked about it, this glazed look came over his eyes, like it did now, and he looked so happy, so content in his little imagination, that, deep in your heart, you wished you were the one to grant him that wish. “i think it’s a girl, but she hasn’t said anything about it. i bet her cheeks are so chubby.” his cheeks flushed, heart swelling in his chest as he looked so content. 

“i think the baby is a boy,” you chuckled, eating more fries. “and i think he most likely looks a lot like his dad.” 

“well i think she will look like mrs. anita,” he placed a hand on his chest. “i’m right, you’re wrong. she had pregnancy acne, too!” he smacks the table with his hand, making the bottles jump in the air. “old wives tale says that pregnancy acne means that the mother is having a girl!” 

“sometimes old wives tales lie!” you laugh, enjoying the talk you were able to get with anthony. when the others were around, they seemed to talk about sex and music, the latter being the only thing you actually listen to. growing up in a multi-talented household, you were raised to appreciate the arts, and even to participate in them. by 15, you played the guitar, bass, cello, piano, and the violin, and had written multiple poems that ended up published in newspapers around l.a. 

“perhaps they don’t!” anthony laughed alongside you. “my mother got pregnancy acne and gave birth to a girl! my dad said she had perfect skin when she was pregnant with me.” 

“my mother had multiple girls after me and she was perfectly fine,” you chuckled, closing the lid of the tupperware, pushing it away from you to allow you to lean your forearms against the table. “you just sucked the life out of her, anthony.” reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, he smiles brightly at you, flashing his crooked tooth, “perhaps.” 

“but really,” you reached into your bag to grab the juice you had thrown in there that morning, “i hope it’s a boy. i have too many sisters.” 

“it is the teacher’s baby, you know,” he reminded you, raising an eyebrow as he grabbed the bottle from your hand to take a sip. “i know, but it’s just that i want to help take care of a boy for once,” you pouted, resting your chin on your hands, waiting for anthony to give you the bottle back. 

as he gives it back, lid screwed tightly, the bell rings, alarming everyone to begin making their way towards their next class. “see you after school,” anthony reaches over the table, grabbing your shoulder, and pulling you in for a kiss, one of the lunch monitors yelling at the two of you to stop the pda. you dreaded to think about what will happen next year. 

this time next year, anthony will have graduated. this time next year, he will be off at college, possibly meeting a new girl that suited his needs better than you did. but until then, you had him all to yourself, a blessing that you never thought twice about, and a blessing you never wanted to let go off.

TAGLIST:

 @stateofloveandvedder​ @state-of-love-and-lust​ @honeysympathy​ @grossgold​ @sea-sxns​ @d-arknecessities​ @sideways-falling​

[lozenger8]

in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

Written for @scottappreciation week, Days 5, 6 and 7 (Heartbeats Rising, The True Alpha, Road Ahead). Scott/Stiles, G except for all the swearing. Title from Hozier because I am nothing if not predictable.

There’s an old adage in storytelling of ‘show, don’t tell’ which people frequently try to apply to real life, but Scott doesn’t know how to explain how deeply he’s fallen in love with Stiles without saying the words, because nothing being shown is new. He’s always wanted to be this close to Stiles, always put his life on the line, always imagined a future of them together. Scott has pulled himself apart for Stiles and sewn himself back together, and when he did that, he loved him, but not in the same way. Before, the love felt deep inside him, a tiny ball of warmth beneath his rib cage. That sensation is still there, but now it stretches all through him, radiating out beams of light that skitter over his skin.

Stiles has been back in Beacon Hills for four months and five days. Scott’s not truly back, yet, still commuting to graduate veterinary medicine classes at Davis. And every time they’re in the same room, Scott thinks this is the time he’s going to tell Stiles, this is when the truth will finally slip out. But somehow, some way, he always manages to contain himself.

The thing is, Scott loves the person he can be when Stiles is around, loves who Stiles brings out with a well-timed in-joke, fond smile, raised eyebrow, squeeze on the shoulder, handshake, hug. Only his mom knows him the same way Stiles does, and sometimes that’s a curse as well as a blessing, but there’s such relief in being known. However, he loves Stiles for Stiles too, for being funny and loyal and the parallelogram to his square. Scott’s in awe of how he’s grown, how they both have. Scott thinks, together, they’ve become something to be admired rather than feared, a force of calm and confidence.

Plus, Stiles is objectively hot, there’s no denying it. When Stiles sits close to him, Scott’s pulse races and his tongue goes dry, and he can’t stop visualizing how they’d look together, because damn.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks him on one such occasion, because he does that now, he checks in. Sometimes it’s a little on the condescending side, but Scott still likes it, because for Stiles to be making the effort, he must really care about the answer.

Scott pauses for a moment, because how could he tell Stiles he’s fine, he’s good, he’d just be better pressed all up against Stiles, limb against limb, lips against lips?

Like that, probably, using those precise words, but they’re lodged in the back of his throat.

Better to show him, maybe, but what if Stiles doesn’t reciprocate these feelings? Sometimes, Scott thinks… maybe. But then that air of suggestion dissipates and he assumes it was imagined.

“Honestly? I’m kinda exhausted. Finishing off my degree is kicking my ass,” Scott says, because he has learned to both accept and mention his limitations more frequently and it’s been very useful, especially in moments like this when Stiles frowns in commiseration and rubs a comforting hand up and down his arm.

“Skip the pack dinner and movie night, go straight to bed?” Stiles asks, and Scott knows he doesn’t mean to make it sound like it’s something they’ll be doing in tandem, in the same bed, but his nervous system doesn’t.

“No,” Scott says. “I wanna see everyone and when we’re all together I feel energized.”

“I asked Alan about that and he said it’s purely psychosomatic. There’s no mythical True Alpha pack boost magic.”

“I don’t care. And the great thing about placebos is that you can know they’re bullshit and yet they still work.”

Stiles graces him with a wide smile, which he does a lot more now; half-knowing, half-skeptical, and he moves his hand from Scott’s upper arm to his shoulder. The touch lights up every single nerve on his right side and Scott’s spine shivers.

“Tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“I will,” Scott replies with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He might even be telling the truth.

*

Scott wasn’t lying about wanting to be with the pack. He can and will listen to hours of Liam and Mason debating the latest movie to watch, likes watching Corey and Hayden mocking them with love-filled expressions, and will sit behind Malia alongside Kira and braid her hair. Sometimes, Lydia video calls from Oxford. Stiles talks shop with Noah in the kitchen, ostensibly preparing food and usually bringing far less than Melissa and Scott bought into the living room. Scott will attempt to pick Alan’s brains in some covert study revision in the guise of casual conversation and never get away with it. When they play the movie, Stiles will sit so close to Scott he’s practically in his lap. And it’s good.

This night, he really is so tired his bones ache, so Scott says his goodnights halfway through the second movie and goes to shower before tucking himself up in bed. This ability to cast himself loose when he needs to is one of the many benefits of still living with his mom when he stays in Beacon Hills. He’s going to get his own place, eventually, when he makes a living wage and isn’t pulled pillar to post. Luckily, his mom seems in no hurry to push him out.

An hour later there’s a knock on his door. Scott awakes, flicks on his lamp, mumbles, “Come in.”

“Oh, you really went to sleep, shit, sorry,” Stiles says, looking poleaxed.

“I did tell you I was tired,” Scott says, sitting up against his headboard and tugging his sheet so it covers him to his waist. He’s wearing boxer briefs and only boxer briefs, and even though he’s been naked around Stiles before, these days doing so feels charged.

Stiles shrugs a shoulder. “That’s my go-to excuse when I need me-time.”

“I would not being doing that in a house full of supernatural and extraordinary humans,” Scott states, emphatically.

“I did not mean it like that, oh my God,” Stiles replies, giving a shocky little laugh. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go.”

“No, stay. I think that power nap did me a world of good.”

Scott gestures to the side of his bed and after he closes the door, Stiles settles there on top of the sheet, shoulder nudging into Scott’s. His sleeves are rolled up and Scott reminds himself to take slow, deep breaths to calm his rapturous excitement at the possibility of skin meeting skin.

“Are you sure it’s just you being tired?” Stiles asks. “There’s been something different about you lately I can’t pinpoint.”

Scott wants to tell Stiles the truth, but he also doesn’t want to put this barrier between them. He knows they won’t break, they’ve been through too much, but they’ll definitely change, in small yet significant ways. Stiles will stop touching him so much, and that little piece of familiarity, or home, will disappear.

“It’s nothing bad,” Scott says, because it’s not. He refuses to think of his feelings as something to discredit, diminish or degrade.

“All right,” Stiles says, though every tone is grudging.

“You trust me, right?”

“Always. With my life.”

“Then please trust me on this.”

Stiles nods, picks at the hem of his shirt. In the half-light of the room he’s all angles and shadows, and Scott’s heart rate picks up to astronomical heights. The heat he always feels where Stiles is concerned burns inferno hot. There’s tension between them, taut as one of Stiles’ yarn threads.

“You want a run-down of the rest of the movie you missed?” Stiles asks, taking that tension and cutting it, short and sharp.

“Yeah, go on, spoil me.”

For the next hour, they chat, until Scott’s woozy again and Stiles is fully slumped against his arm, head cradled on his shoulder. Scott’s the most comfortable he’s been in a long time, with the weight and heat of Stiles on him, the scent of him in his nose.

“I should let you sleep again, but I don’t wanna,” Stiles says, quiet. They turned Scott’s lamp off a while back so they’re shrouded in the dark.  

“Cruel. I thought you cared about my best interests?”

“I do, but I care about mine too and every part of me wants to be near to you.”

Scott tries, really hard, not to read too much into that, but it’s a pretty suggestive declaration. “Even your spleen?”

“You fuckin’ nerd. Especially my spleen. My lungs. My skin. My heart. All my organs, really. Nope. I just heard what that sounds like. No need to say it.”

In the interests of ‘show, don’t tell’, Scott reaches over and takes Stiles’ hand. He twines their fingers together, strokes his thumb in soft circles against Stiles’ delicate skin. It feels so right and he wonders why he never tried before.

In the interests of really needing and wanting to tell Stiles, he speaks too.

“I feel the same way. That’s the difference you’ve been noticing. I realized I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Scott can only see an impression of Stiles’ expression, but all fear he held evaporates as Stiles snuggles even closer to him and sighs. “Thank God. I thought I was the only one.”

They hold onto each other a little longer and then Stiles shifts position. Scott can feel him a few inches away, can just about see the whites of his eyes.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Scott asks, hopeful.

“Actually, I was waiting for you to kiss me.”

When they kiss, it’s a mutual movement. Stiles’ kisses are all-encompassing. He has a way of mouthing at Scott’s bottom lip with a sweet suck. Scott’s whole body is set alight and he embraces it, embraces Stiles.

And this, this is new, this way of expressing the love he’s always felt. Scott smiles into their kisses and thinks about all the other ways he can show Stiles how thoroughly he has his heart.

[onlyswan]

ARTEMIS (god i like you name sm) i just remembered this…

do you like one direction?

my favorite favorite song of 1D is if i could fly, and the reasons are the lyrics (just as like hozier’s work song) and the melody 🥹

it’s like showing the bare and raw side of yourself to your significant other. being vulnerable for them and devotedly in love. and no one can tell me that this song is not how the ‘in wich!’ couple’s love sounds like… (ಡ‸ಡ) ♡ i tear up every time i listen to it and absorb the lyrics into my brain and then my heart just *squeak* ❤️‍🩹😔 (*sigh* being a hopeless romantic is exhausting, yet i am happy being one too bc i can feel things and emotions… like really feel it. i know you know what that means :3)

and i just have to mention this; the happier one, i want to write you a song also reminds me of ‘in wich!’ couple hihi so cute.

both of them remind me of your drabbles sm and how you write your stories… especially the angsty ones. haha i just thought i’d share this with you ♡ have a lovely day artemis!

xx.

-🌷

made me blush immediately just like that thank you :P

ohhhh i’ve definitely heard a couple songs in the past! reminds me of my old school and friends lol night changes was stuck in my head for a long time 😭

oh my god tulip anonie you definitely have a knack for making me cry because this is so sweet and thoughtful 🥹 thank you for always thinking about the in which couple and sharing this with me you have no idea how it makes my heart overflow with joy and motivation <333 will be thinking of you fondly every time i hear these songs ! :]

AHHH I DO being a hopeless romantic can truly be a blessing and a curse ㅠㅠ but there’s nothing more raw and special about being human than the intense capacity to feel <3 so thank you again for embracing these feelings i incorporate into my writings 🥹 ilysm have a beautiful day!

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIV)

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cute moments for you all :)

I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3096

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Tea

Five times a day, I make tea. I do this because I like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self-directed kindness. I’m not used to it— warmth and kindness, both—so I create my own when I can. It’s easy. You just pour water into a kettle and turn the knob and listen for the scream. I do this five times a day. Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing. I must remind myself I am here, and do so by noticing myself: my feet are cold inside my socks, they touch the ground, my stomach churns, my heart stutters, in my hands I hold a warmth I make. I come from a people who pray five times a day and make tea. I admire the way they do both. How they drop to the ground wherever they are. Drop pine nuts and mint sprigs in a glass. I think to care for the self is a kind of prayer. It is a gesture of devotion toward what is not always beloved or believed. I do not always believe in myself, or love myself, I am sure there are times I am bad or gone or lying. In another’s mouth, tea often means gossip, but sometimes means truth. Despite the trope, in my experience my people do not lie for pleasure, or when they should, even when it might be a gesture of kindness. But they are kind. If you were to visit, a woman would bring you a tray of tea. At any time of day. My people love tea so much it was once considered a sickness. Their colonizers tried, as with any joy, to snuff it out. They feared a love so strong one might sell or kill their other loves for leaves and sugar. Teaism sounds like a kind of faith I’d buy into, a god I wouldn’t fear. I think now I truly believe I wouldn’t kill anyone for love, not even myself—most days I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy, which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Leila Chatti

Your conversation with Andrew was exhilarating.

Of course, you were aware that he was smart, you knew him well enough by now to be very aware of that. And of course, as he studied literature for a living, you knew that he was extremely knowledgeable in that field. Still, it was just so… exciting, to talk with him. About anything, really.

You were in his home to watch the documentary you had spotted about the male gaze in cinema, the film was just over. There were remnants of tea and biscuits on his coffee table, and Andrew’s dog was curled at his feet, on the carpet. Outside, the weather was moody but dry, there was a lot of wind though, and it made a strange sound as the air hit the windows. And now, even if the documentary was over, you kept on discussing the subject, bouncing ideas and examples. And he was listening to you, paying attention to what you were saying, he was even interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t contradicting you, more like asking deeper questions, debating in a productive way. You had already been commenting during the film, but it had been half an hour now since the documentary had ended, and he still seemed perfectly content with talking about it more with you.

You couldn’t help yourself as you drew a parallel with Frank, how you knew he was faking interest when you talked about your work. You thought he was making an effort back then, but perhaps you were being too kind to him. As you listened to Andrew agreeing with you, offering more arguments, his hands moving as he spoke with an obvious interest that was almost passion… you couldn’t help but question yourself. If Andrew was so enthralled by something you were passionate about, perhaps Frank should have been too… or… perhaps he could have at least properly listened to you.

You were interrupted by Elwood though. Andrew was cut mid-sentence as his dog woke up from his nap, and immediately rose and put his front paws on Andrew’s knees, looking at him with an impatient look in his eyes while waiting to get attention. Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he scratched the dogs head, making the animal happily wiggle his tail.

“Your dog is so cute,” you chuckled fondly at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, he’s a very good boy,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, God! I almost forgot, wait! I brought you something!”

Andrew frowned hard, staring at you while you stood up from the couch and hurried towards your bag.

“Y/N, there was no need… you shouldn’t have brought anything…”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Andrew merely frowned again, and you couldn’t help but find his puzzled look adorable.

“For… Elwood, you mean?”

You nodded proudly, taking a toy out of your purse.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to buy him anything…”

“I wanted to!”

It was just a little something, much like a ball, but it was shaped like a frog. You had seen it in the supermarket the day prior while buying groceries, and thought of Andrew immediately. So, you bought it, thinking his dog could like it.

You handed it to Andrew, who chuckled happily at the sight. His fingers brushed yours as he took the toy, his fingertips calloused because of years spent playing the guitar. You shuddered, your heart skipping a beat. You watched how ridiculously small the toy looked in his large hand…

You shook yourself out of these thoughts, cleared your throat.

“I just saw it yesterday in the store, and just… had to buy it! It was so cute!”

“Christ… thank you so much, Y/N. This is adorable.”

He pressed on the toy, a little squeaky noise coming out of it that immediately caught Elwood’s attention.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Andrew admonished, but you brushed off his remark.

“I was happy to buy it for him.”

Andrew let the toy drop to the floor and Elwood immediately hurried after it as it rolled away, happily chewing on it too to make it squeak. Andrew smiled fondly at the sight.

“Thanks Y/N.”

There was something else in his eyes too, something fond and almost tender as he looked up at you. You tried not to think about it too much, rekindled the conversation so your brain would focus on something else than the green in his eyes…

“I’ve never asked you… when did you get Elwood?”

“Oh, way back! I was in college. I found him on the road with my parents when he was just a puppy. He didn’t have a tag or anything, it was pretty obvious he had been abandoned. We tried to find out if anyone was claiming him, but no one was, so we kept him. He moved back with me when I got my job at Trinity, instead of staying with my parents.”

“That’s kind of you to have kept him.”

“We always had a dog around at home. I really love dogs a lot. It wasn’t an effort, really. I was hoping no one would claim him, to be honest.”

“Why ‘Elwood’ though?”

Andrew laughed, watched as you crouched by his dog to pet his head. Elwood dismissed his new toy in favour of getting more scratches, making you giggle happily.

“My father thought that he had a spot on his neck that looked like a tie. So, it made him think of the Blues Brothers. So, Elwood it was.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched that film.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Wow… and I thought you were a respectable person.”

You laughed at that, bright and happy, and you noticed that Andrew smiled because of it.

“We all have our flaws, I guess. I would love to watch it with you though, if you want to.”

His smile turned into an excited grin.

“Yeah, totally. Like… that would be grand!”

You checked the time, it was late already. Almost 7pm, you ought to go home and have dinner. You had spent most of your afternoon at Andrew’s already.

He saw your gesture, but you didn’t say anything. Truth was, you didn’t want to go home. You were happy with Andrew. You had not thought of Frank this afternoon, except when you noticed that he should have done better. It was a drastic change, to have someone who was nice, funny, and actually interested in things you adored. The fact that he looked gorgeous in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a black cardigan, with his hair up in a casual bun, didn’t help you will yourself out of his flat. But you reckoned that you had bothered him enough for one day, you ought to go home…

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, silently questioning him while you kept on giving his dog some well-deserved love.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I mean… like… unless you have something planned, of course. It’s just… it’s late, and… I was going to order some take-out anyway, so… if you want, we could order something. But if you’d prefer to go home, like… that’s totally fine.”

You noticed how he nervously rubbed at his palm, his shy side coming back to the surface.

You broke into a grin.

“I’d love to stay, Andy. But only if we split the bill!”

He grinned, stopped rubbing at his hand, and you noticed that he was blushing a little.

“Grand!”

You were about to ask about what he wanted to eat when his phone buzzed, and he took a look at who was calling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to take this. I won’t be long though.”

You nodded with a smile, while Andrew was picking up his phone and hurrying out of the room. He closed the door of his second bedroom behind him, and you heard his voice only as muffled sounds you couldn’t decipher.

You waited for him to come back, playing with Elwood and his new toy. He seemed to really like you, and you couldn’t refrain a sense of pride at the thought. He kept on coming back for scratches and attention, even after getting side-tracked because of the toy.

A few minutes later, Andrew was opening the door again, but he hadn’t ended his call. He walked to his kitchen to look at the tiny calendar hanging next to the fridge.

“Yeah… okay. No, I can do that in four weeks. So, a reading, then? Okay. No, no, I don’t mind if there are questions at all, on the contrary. What about the journal then? Four poems! Wow… I thought they just wanted to publish one! How many? Okay. No, no, it’s okay, I’ve got some that are ready to be published, maybe I’ll add a couple new ones… we’ll see. Yeah, I know… okay. Alright. Thanks so much, Caroline. Yeah, have a nice one too. Bye.”

He wrote something on his calendar, then came back to the living room to join you.

“Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but… you talked about poetry?” you asked, and Andrew visibly blushed.

He nervously ran his fingers through his beard.

“Yeah… erm…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

“No, no… that’s… I just…”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he answered anyway.

“I write poetry.”

Your eyes grew a little round, but you didn’t try to hide your excitement. And Andrew seemed surprised by it.

“That’s amazing! Have you ever been published?”

“Erm… yeah, like… I have a couple of collections published. I publish regularly in journals too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing particularly good or anything…”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re downplaying your art a lot. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I… I’m quite proud of that, to be honest.”

“Why do you look all shy, then?” you asked, wondering if you were a little too direct as Andrew stared at you in surprise.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. But then he shrugged.

“I don’t know… you’re right, it’s silly. It was my agent… on the phone, I mean. I’m booked for a reading of some of my poems next month.”

“That sounds grand!”

“Yeah… I get a little nervous with those, but I really like doing that too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I didn’t tell you before.”

“I’m supposed to be an expert in literature,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Not in contemporary Irish poetry though. That’s my jam, back off! Soon, you’ll take my job as well as my dog’s love.”

You laughed at that.

“Nah, I’m just bribing him so he will tolerate me in his home,” you argued, right when Elwood was reaching to lick your cheek.

“Yeah, of course… he clearly hates you,” Andrew replied, “look at him, he’s this close from biting your head off.”

You giggled, tickled by Elwood’s tongue, and you almost fell over as Elwood rested his paws on your chest.

You laughed loudly, and Andrew did the same.

“Alright, Elwood, that’s enough. Come here, boy. Come here,” he ordered, and Elwood obeyed in an instant, earning some scratches and praises as he reached Andrew.

You walked back to the couch to join Andrew.

“Andy?” you asked, trying to think of the right words to ask your next question.

“Hmm?”

“Would you find it weird if I read your poetry? Or can I?”

He froze, his hand stopping all movement on Elwood’s head, who looked up at his owner with a questioning look.

“Like… I don’t know… poetry can be really personal, so… If you don’t want me to read it, I’d understand. But, I’d really like to read it.”

He looked at you then, blinking, like he was trying to process your words. He looked adorable like this, with a confused look on his face that made his lips part and his eyebrows knit together.

“You… you want to read it?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

He blinked again.

“Oh… okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No, I… I don’t mind. You can read it if you want.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

He clenched his jaw, but kept on looking at you.

“I don’t know… it’s just… Sam never really cared about that. Like she… she didn’t get it, you know? She didn’t really like what I wrote. It’s… it’s quite political, most of the time. Or about love. Or… I don’t know… she didn’t like it. She wasn’t interested in it.”

“I’m not Samantha, though.”

He stared at you then, intense and a little stunned. His voice was so soft when he spoke.

“No… no, you’re definitely not Samantha.”

If the phrasing was rather emotionless, his tone made it sound like it was a compliment. As if he was acknowledging the fact, your differences, and that he was happy to find them. You gave him a smile, a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

You saw that he was struggling to swallow, that he looked impossibly nervous again.

“You… you could come to the reading, if you want,” he offered in a breath. “Like… if you’re not busy and you want to, of course.”

But you grinned.

“That would be amazing! Yes! Of course, I’d like to come!”

He grinned back at you, looking excited too now.

“Grand!”

“Should I have read your poetry first, or is it better if I discover it then?”

“Ermmm… I don’t know. I like listening to poetry readings a lot, it’s not the same. There’s something very… melodic, about poetry, that you don’t really have when it’s only on paper. So… you can definitely discover it at the reading. You’ll have to sit through it even if you don’t like it though.”

You took his last remark as a joke and laughed, but his surprise showed you that he was being serious.

“Andy, I’m sure I’m going to love it! Why wouldn’t I? God, I can’t wait now! Can you send me the details then?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you everything.”

“Thank you!”

He chuckled.

“Thank you, for being interested in that.”

“We’re friends! Of course, I’m interested!”

He grinned again, slowly nodding.

“Well… what do you want to eat?” he changed the subject.

“Pizza?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Andrew got you some pizza, and you spent a long time chatting, drinking beer while you ate. Soon, it was already 11 pm, but you didn’t want to go home. Instead, you had moved back from the kitchen to the couch, and you admired him like this, relaxed and babbling away about Breath of the Wild and the last movie he had watched.

He took off his cardigan at one point, and before he could readjust his t-shirt, you noticed dark traces on his upper-arm.

“What’s that?” you asked, making Andrew laugh.

“My tattoo.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Nothing special though.”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on! Let me see!”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s only two words, that a friend of mine tattooed on me when we were in College.”

“You know a tattoo artist?”

“No, he did it like… prison style, you know,” Andrew joked. “Just… with a pen and a needle and just…”

He mimicked the gesture of repeatedly stinging somebody with a needle. You blinked at him.

“Wow… you will never cease to surprise me, Andy.”

He laughed at that.

“You’re actually a delinquent,” you joked, making him laugh even harder.

“Of the worst kind, I’m afraid.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated for a second, and then he pushed his short sleeve up, until you could read the words painted there on his arm.

Noli Timere

“It means ‘never be afraid’,” he explained, blushing.

“Why that phrase?”

He blushed some more.

“It was Heaney’s last words to his wife.”

He seemed to expect you to mock him, but you didn’t.

“I should have known, a fan till the end,” you smiled, and he nodded. “It’s a nice reminder to have. Very meaningful.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so too.”

You stared at him to speak again, diving into his hazel eyes. At such an hour, Andrew was growing tired, and so his eyes wore a vivid shade of green, like leaves in the summer sun.

“Besides, tattoos are sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away despite his obvious blush. He slightly tilted his head to the side, and his tone was flirtatious when he answered.

“Are they now?”

You merely nodded and hummed along.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you flirting with Andrew? Your colleague?! Your friend?!

“Even if they’re made with a pen and needle by a drunk friend?”

“Especially if they’re made like that, yeah. That sounds very bad boy of you.”

He winced at that, making you laugh.

“Christ, I hope not…”

“The reference to a poet and the incredibly romantic meaning behind it kind of balances it out but…”

“I’m a sap, I know.”

“Unsalvageable, I’m afraid…”

“Who’s saying I want to be saved from that?”

You exchanged a smile, and as you sat there, on Andrew’s sofa, staring at him and how gorgeous he was, and how tender his gaze was and… you just…

You would have let him kiss you if he had tried to. You would have let him…

“It’s quite late, I should go home,” you let out in a breath, unable to hide your reluctance to actually do what you said.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t get up though. Instead, you leant forward to kiss his cheek, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and you could have sworn that under your palm his heart was pounding.

“Good night, Andy,” you whispered against his ear, and you heard how his breath caught in his throat.

You were pulling away when he stopped you, hand reaching to cradle the back of your head. He turned his face to kiss your cheek as well, but his kiss landed on the corner of your lips, almost on your mouth.

“Good night, Y/N. Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer, his fingers still in your hair, your hand still on his chest.

You would have let him…

You pulled away, got up and finally walked out of his flat.

The skin he had touched with his lips was burning still when you got home.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLVI)

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! A little academic update for our lovely couple…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3479

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

I loved you first: but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most? my love was long, And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong; I loved and guessed at you, you construed me And loved me for what might or might not be – Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong. For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’ With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done, For one is both and both are one in love: Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’ Both have the strength and both the length thereof, Both of us, of the love which makes us one.

Christina Rossetti

The whatsapp group of the third-year students was busier than ever.

Texts after texts after texts were filling up the app, the screen constantly updated, a message chasing another.

The reason was simple. Professor Hozier-Byrne and Professor Y/L/N had been spotted chatting in a corridor… and they were standing very close to each other…

Were they touching?!?!

Nah… but they were leaning towards each other, it was adorable.

And Prof H-B was blushing. BLUSHING! And they were laughing like… I had never seen any of them so happy.

They’re definitely together. THE LOOK IN THEIR EYES LADS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A string of heart-eyes emojis followed.

I’m betting on them.

So… does that mean that our two fav literature professors are also IN LOVE?! My heart!!

Oh

My

God…

Do you think Pr. H-B’s poetry is about… HER?!

OMG!!!

A string of messages taking God as a witness of the student’s amazement followed.

We need to find out. We need to be certain!

And that was how Operation Love Birds began…

“Do you have any questions about this poem?” Andrew asked his students, readjusting his glasses, closing his copy of District and Circle.

Silence, but his students were clearly listening carefully to him, as several of them shook their heads.

“Alright, then… I reckon that’s all for today. Don’t forget that you have an essay to prepare for next week! Enjoy your weekend!”

He was already packing his things, thinking about you and the coffee break you had promised after this class. He knew you were wearing this shirt he loved on you, that green one that made his heart stumble and lose all kind of rhythm. He had seen you leaving your shared home wearing it, but you had a class early in the morning, while he could take his time. He remembered the way it revealed just enough of your cleavage to drive him nuts, though…

He was almost startled by the four students standing in front of him. Marie, Sheily, Saoirse and Sean. He knew them quite well by now, and so did you. They had steadily attended his and your classes every semester since their first year.

He quickly recovered and offered them a kind and expectant smile.

“We wanted to ask you about the essay for next week. We haven’t found many sources about the poem we’re studying, and we’re not quite sure about our interpretation… could you tell us if we’re going in the wrong direction?”

His smile only grew a little wider, and he wondered why one of the girls was repeatedly blinking when he pushed his hair behind his ear.

“Yes, of course. I know that some authors we’re working on in this class, being contemporary to us, don’t have that many academic resources about their work. I’ll give you a push, if you need.”

He tapped on the screen of his phone to check the time.

“I have to run now, but come by tomorrow afternoon to my office if you’d like. We’ll take a look at what you’ve been doing, and I’ll give you directions to finish your essay.”

“Thank you! Have a nice day, professor!”

“Thanks, have a good one too.”

Andrew let out a relieved exhale as the students left, and hurried to pack once more. His phone vibrated with your name colouring his screen.

Got your coffee, waiting in our office.

Hurry up. I want a kiiiiiiissssss!

Love you! xx

Andrew grinned without even noticing, throwing his pencil case in his bag and running to the door. The few students who were still in the room looked at him with raised eyebrows, and exchanged questioning glances at the sight of his sudden hurry. He who was always so calm, so composed, almost shy…

Andrew ignored them, though. He didn’t even notice that they were there at all. Instead, he rushed through the corridors of the old university, until he had reached your shared office.

He opened the door more violently than he meant to, making you jump. You were standing there, by the window behind his desk, a coffee in your hand. You were wearing that top, alright…

He hurried to close the door, rushed across the room, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and dropped his bag next to his desk.

“Your coffee’s…” you started, pointing at the warm mug on his desk, but you stopped when he took your warm beverage from your hands to put it down on a nearby shelf. “Huh… that was mine!”

Instead of answering, Andrew merely stared at you, letting his gaze rake the length of your body, and he didn’t try to hide the hunger in his eyes.

“You’re wearing that top.”

You raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smug smile tugging at your lips.

“Yes…”

“You know I love that shirt on you.”

“Hmmm… yes, I kind of do. That’s why I chose it this morning.”

“Oh, I see… you woke up and thought ‘hey, how can I torture my boyfriend today?’…”

“Torture?”

“You clearly chose violence with that cleavage, honey…”

You bit on your lower lip, unable to refrain your grin any longer.

“Did I now? And I thought I would make you happy…”

“Oh, I’m delighted, don’t get me wrong.”

You wanted to add some banter, but his hands came up to rest on your cheeks, cradling your face to pull you closer while he bent down to kiss you, and you were left too breathless to speak.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. Absolutely gorgeous…” he whispered, his lips a breath away from yours, and despite the obvious desire in his words, his tone was infinitely tender. Adoring, even. “How did I get lucky enough for you to want me, huh?”

You giggled at that, the most adorable sound in the world, and he didn’t even notice that he was smiling.

“You planned a devilish plan to get back with your ex with me.”

“Our exes,” he corrected you.

“Hmm… yeah, that’s how.”

He shook his head, brushing his nose against yours in the process.

“I don’t think that’s how I did it…”

“No… You just had to be your kind, funny, handsome self…”

He rolled his eyes, and when you opened your mouth to protest, he merely closed the gap between your mouths, finally kissing you.

He was breathless by the time you pulled away, dizzy and happier than ever…

… how could you still make him feel this way after two full years?

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close, and he held your waist firmly against him, partly to keep you close but also to help you keep your balance as you had risen to your tiptoes so he wouldn’t have to bend so much.

“Well, professor… if you’re nice enough with me today… I might let you take this shirt you like so much off me tonight…” you whispered in the most tempting voice, making him groan.

“You’ll be the death of me…”

While Andrew and you were finally breaking your embrace, sipping on your coffees while imagining very graphic scenarios of how you would spend your evening together, the whatsapp group of your students, now rebranded as OP Love Birds was on fire again.

I couldn’t make out the face of the woman on the picture, but she had the same hair colour as Pr Y/L/N. And there was a dog in the picture too. Black and white dog. (it was adorable btw).

Okay, so H-B is definitely NOT single. And it could be Y/L/N.

And can we mention how he weirdly just… BOLTED out of the room?

Like?

Sir?

Calm down! Those legs are long enough to carry you at lightspeed already…

Unless he wanted to go back to Y/N!

OMG… I want them to be together so bad, they would be so cute together!!!

God, you had to talk to Andrew.

You finally had received a response for the publication of your article. The email dropped during your class, but you managed to sneak a peek at it, and… the article was accepted!

You were over the moon, and got distracted during the end of your class, you would willingly admit that. You stammered, stumbled over your words a few times, but it was okay. You didn’t mind. You couldn’t mind losing your cool when you had spent so long working on this bloody article. But it was finally accepted, it would be published, with your name on it, printed in full and you wanted to cry from the sheer expectation of finally seeing it for real, on a computer screen, with the name of one of the most renowned journals at the top of your paper.

You hurried through the corridor, knowing Andrew was coming back from a class too, and would soon have a meeting with some of his students about an essay. There was no time to lose. You wanted to celebrate with him, and get lots of hugs and kisses and see his proud grin on his face…

He heard you running down the corridor when he was just a few steps away from the door of your shared office, and he raised a perplexed eyebrow as you rushed closer.

“You’re alright?” he asked, turning fully to you.

“IT’S ACCEPTED! IT’S ACCEPTED!”

His surprise turned into bliss.

“Your article, you mean?” he asked, and you nodded excitedly, rushing in his open arms.

You buried your face in his chest, and jumped up and down in excitement. Andrew laughed.

“Congratulations, darling! You worked so hard on it!”

“Yes, I did!” you quipped, looking up at him.

“I’m so proud of you, that’s amazing!”

“YES!”

He checked the corridor, but there was no one in sight, so he bent down to kiss you, loving and passionate and taking your breath away.

“I’m so proud of you, baby!” he cooed, holding you tight again. “That’s amazing, congratulations!”

“I mean, it’s not my first paper… but it’s my first on this subject, and in such a big journal too…”

“Babe, I’m incredibly proud of you! And you should be too! Now, we can drink that bottle of champagne I had stashed for this.”

“You bought champagne for this?”

“Of course! You were so nervous about it… I know how important it was for you.”

“Thank you,” you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, and Andrew fondly shook his head at you.

“It’s the bare minimum, honey.”

“It isn’t. You’re the best boyfriend since Mr. Darcy.”

Andrew let out a loud laugh.

“Wow… that is very high praise!”

“The highest.”

You finally pulled away, but kept on holding his hands in yours.

You jumped at the sound of giggles coming from the staircase that led to the corridor, and you both let go, reluctance making your movements too slow for Andrew’s students not to notice…

“Ha! Come in, let’s take a look at what you’ve found so far,” Andrew called his students, and you greeted them as well.

It took them thirty seconds after they were out of your office to text the group.

THEY HAVE TO BE TOGETHER!!!

THEY WERE HOLDING HANDS IN THE HALLWAY WHEN WE ARRIVED TO THEIR OFFICE!

WHAT?!

OMG!!!

We need more proof! It is pretty compelling, but were they really holding hands?

They were letting go when we arrived.

God, I’m certain they’re together. ADORABLE!

We need more proof, just to be sure…

There was something off with your students, of that you were certain.

Nothing bad, by any means. They were all pretty fun to be around, focused on their studies too. You couldn’t complain about that class, really.

Except that they had started being a little weird for the past few weeks. They were whispering when they saw you, especially if Andrew was with you. You noticed that they tried to drag the informal conversations you had with them towards your personal life. But your doubts turned into certainty as you overheard a conversation between three of your students.

“They have to be together. Saoirse said they saw them holding hands.”

“They weren’t holding hands, they looked like they had been holding hands.”

“I’m sure Y/L/N and H-B are together.”

H-B?

Your brain finally clicked… Hozier-Byrne. Right…

“We need more proof.”

“More proof than the way H-B looks at her? Gosh… he’s head-over-heels… I wish someone could look at me like that.”

“He already looked at her like that when we were in first year, Sheily. And they weren’t together for sure at the time.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The longing?! Now it’s more, ‘happily with the love of my life’ vibes. He looked sad every time she turned away back then.”

You decided that you had eavesdropped long enough and made sure to make a bit of noise before finally walking out of the classroom and into the corridor where your students were chatting. They fell silent as they saw you, but greeted you with a warm smile and polite hello.

You were to meet with Andrew at the library on the campus, both of you needing to pick up some books there. There was a sort of cafeteria nearby, where you wanted to pick up a snack and some coffee.

And Andrew was waiting for you, indeed, leaning against the stone wall of the library, with a hand in the pocket of his blue jeans, too busy looking at his phone to notice the way the students that passed by him were staring. It made you smile, the way he was truly clueless of how good he looked like this, with his hair let loose to reach his shoulders, white shirt, blue jeans and denim jacket, looking effortlessly handsome. Your heart skipped several beats at the sight. He must have felt you staring, because he finally looked up from his phone, readjusting his glasses, and immediately grinned as his gaze met yours.

“Hey! How was your class this morning?” he asked, and you saw the way he closed and opened his fist, longing to touch you but refraining as you were in public, and working.

“Nothing worth mentioning except… something I’ve overhead. Got tea to spill.”

He laughed, bright and loud as he opened the door of the library for you.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about it over coffee.”

“See! I knew you loved gossips as much as I do.”

“Hardly.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Absolutely not.”

You playfully stick out your tongue, making him giggle.

“Well, you’ll be definitely interested in that one, because it concerns us.”

“Us?”

“Yep…”

“Why would it be about us?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you teased, walking further into the library to pick up the books you needed, throwing a teasing smile over your shoulder, and if he replied by a roll of his eyes, he was blushing too.

You met up again to borrow the books, and Andrew read the summary of the two books you were taking with you as you exchanged niceties with the librarian. He kept carrying your books as you walked out of the building and towards the cafeteria.

It was almost an accident as you spotted the three students you had overheard earlier that morning. You were walking and chatting with Andrew, who was asking questions about the books you had just borrowed, when you felt someone staring. And indeed, the trio was looking at you and Andrew, whispering before deciding to follow you towards the cafeteria.

“So, that’s the analysis you were talking about yesterday, that pushed forward the historical and social dimension in the plays?” he asked, a small frown creasing his brow, showing that he was thinking and that he was fully focused on your conversation. Your heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Hmm. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Sounds interesting. A little… narrowing, but interesting.”

“The second one is linked to Bakhtine’s theories though.”

“Hmm… yeah, I see. So, you’re…”

“Andy.”

“Hmm?”

“Sorry, I know I’m interrupting, but… see the three students behind us?”

“The ones we’re both teaching you mean?” he asked, trying to discreetly look over his shoulder.

“Yeah… they’re the ones I overheard this morning.”

“Oh… and? What did they say?”

You opened the door of the cafeteria, and joined the queue.

“They were discussing whether or not we are a couple,” you said in a whisper so he would be the only one to hear, and Andrew had to bend closer during the rest of the conversation.

“What?”

“They were arguing on whether or not we are a couple.”

He blinked, taking a couple of seconds to process your words.

“Oh… I see… I guess we weren’t as discreet as we thought we were.”

“I guess not. They mentioned how you look at me a lot.”

His cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, but his gaze didn’t waver, remained fixed on you.

“Oh… I see.”

“Lovingly, apparently. You are ‘head-over-heels’ as they put it,” you teased, making him chuckle and blush even more.

“I can’t deny that,” he answered in a smooth tone that made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “It is hard to hide my thoughts when I look at you.”

“Hmm… I knew you adored me.”

He laughed.

“More than you could ever imagine,” he answered with a tender smile, while you took a step closer to the counter. “Although, not just that. I often imagine you in… interesting positions as well.”

You choked on your own breath at that, and Andrew sported a content smirk in return.

“Right… anyway. Apparently, we’ve blown our cover. Our students are catching up on us.”

“And what do you suggest we do then? I mean… we’re not breaking any rules, or doing anything wrong.”

“What are you saying?”

“That… maybe that’s okay if they know about us. I for one… wouldn’t mind that much.”

You couldn’t refrain your smile.

“At the beginning, you were adamant that we had to remain professional at Trinity.”

“Hmm… I mean, it was the beginning. I couldn’t be sure if it would work out between us. It was safer this way. Two teachers dating is gossip enough, without adding a break-up into the mix.”

“Hmm… but now?”

He looked away, turning to the list of pastries to choose a snack.

“What cake do you want?”

“A chocolate muffin.”

“I think I’ll take a blueberry one. And yes, you can have a bite,” he answered before you could ask the question.

“You didn’t answer.”

“Answer?”

“Why aren’t you worried about people finding out about us anymore?”

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way he tightened his hold on the books under his arm. His gaze was fleeing yours, still focused on the sweet treats in display, but he did answer, his voice so low and deep you barely heard him.

“Now, I know you’re the love of my life.”

You blinked tears away, staring at him, taking in a sharp breath at his words.

“So… I don’t mind if all our colleagues know, even students. I’m not afraid of you suddenly realising that you could have better and dumping my arse anymore. I’m not afraid of us not being able to make our lives align, or whatever obstacles might be thrown at us. I just… I really just want to stay with you forever, so… who cares if they know? I’m not afraid of a break-up anymore. So, I don’t mind.”

Finally, he looked down at you, frowned a little at the sight of shining tears caught on your eyelashes, but when you grinned up at him, he smiled too.

“I love you so much, you know?” was your only answer, and Andrew nodded.

“Yeah… I’m starting to believe in that concept,” he chuckled.

He didn’t move away when you touched his arm, hand moving down towards his. Instead, he took his fist out of his pocket, intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I really want to give these girls a heart-attack,” you confessed.

“You sure?”

“Hmm… are you okay with that?”

“Murdering students is illegal. Even if it’s not fully intentional.”

You chuckled, mumbling something about how silly he was. But then his stare caught yours, and you didn’t think as you rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, so you could kiss him.

When you pulled away, Andrew dropped a peck on the top of your head, before letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You wrapped your arm around his waist too, while discreetly looking over your shoulder.

The three girls were going crazy.

“So?” Andrew asked, moving forward as someone was leaving the queue.

“We might have to call an ambulance.”

You both laughed, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth sip into your frame, filling you with quiet and love.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLI)

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for a bit of Christmas fluff!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2641

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Mistletoe

Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Walter de la Mare

“In the lane, snow is glistening… a beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight…”

You smiled at the sound, stopping your movement to listen to Andrew’s rich voice while he sang mindlessly to the tune you had heard on the radio earlier that day. You were left with wrapping paper only half-folded over your gift for Andrew’s mother.

You would spend Christmas with his family, travelling all the way back to Bray for the occasion. It was your first time with his extended family, but you already knew things would go well. You were growing close to Andrew’s parents and brother, had met several of his uncles and aunts already as well, and everything had happened smoothly. You weren’t so nervous this time around. You were simply… happy.

On the 25th, there was a gathering with some friends planned. You had invited Colm and Siobhán as well as Andrew’s close friends. You couldn’t wait for that too, for your best friend to finally be including in the family you were joining. Next week, it would Andrew would blend perfectly in your own little tribe, the way he always did, to celebrate the coming of a new year and all the promises it withheld.

“… walking in the winter wonderland…”

Andrew looked up at you now, noticing your pause, that you were lost in thoughts. He tilted his head a little at the sight, and your heart was filled with warmth at the domesticity of it all… wrapping presents in his living room, with Elwood playing with one of the toys you had bought for him nearby, the glow of the Christmas tree you had decorated together, and Andrew looking warm and cozy with a messy bun, his glasses, his casual jumper…

“You’re okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, a tender smile growing on your lips.

“What got you lost in thought like that?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m gonna make some hot cocoa.”

“Oh! Can I have one?”

“Of course, baby.”

You resumed your wrapping, carefully folded the paper around the painting supplies you had bought for Raine.

“I’m really happy you’re coming for Christmas, you know?” Andrew let out in a dreamy sigh. “I’m glad we can spend the holidays together.”

“I’m glad you invited me. Besides, I could never pass on an opportunity to question John about more humiliating stories about you.”

You both laughed, bright, solar, carefree.

“Perhaps that wasn’t such a good idea, then… but we’ll see Siobhan tomorrow! Which means I get all the juicy stories about my brilliant girlfriend getting trollied while in college…”

“I would like to protest, but it’s a fair payback, and I’m too entertained by your family stories to pass on them.”

You tried to think back of a time before Andrew when you had been as happy, as safe, as yourself than during that simple, quiet afternoon. You couldn’t…

“We need to leave early tomorrow morning,” Andrew went on. “There will be some traffic, and we must get there before noon to help preparing for the feast!”

“I can drive, if you’d like,” you offered. “You can sleep a bit more in the car then.”

“Or I could drive so you can sleep in the car.”

“You could. But you’re the night owl here, who won’t be asleep before 1 a.m. no matter what…”

“Touché,” he chuckled.

“I’ll drive. And I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

“Sure.”

“I’d love to watch a Christmas movie before bed, though. One of the disgustingly cute ones!”

He chuckled, gave you tender smile and a roll of his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you’d like.”

You thought about all your clothes folded with his, in his closet. About all his clothes fitting perfectly in your closet. How there were pictures of the two of you in both your flats, how his smiling face was your lockscreen now, how on your phone he was now called Honey with a red heart next to it to match how he owned yours now.

Sometimes you worried about being betrayed again, about your happiness ending… but then you looked up at him again, caught his hazel eyes with yours and read the love hidden in them. And you knew everything would be fine, somehow.

“Honey?” you called in a whisper.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can you keep on singing?”

He blushed, but couldn’t refrain his grin. And then his voice was back, warm and deep, starting over again.

“Sleigh bells ring, aren’t you listening...”

“Maggie, calm down!”

Andrew was laughing at his tiny cousin’s daughter struggling to put on her coat on her own. The three-years-old was stubborn, and getting frustrated.

Patiently, he crouched by her side, held the coat so she could aim her tiny fist and slip her arm in her sleeve. He pulled up the zipper, readjusted her beanie, helped her with her gloves.

Christ, how could you fall even more in love with him?

“Alright, you’re all set for the snow.”

The little girl jumped up and down excitedly.

“We’re going in the snow!”

“Yes, we are.”

“Can we make a snowman?”

“Of course! We have to make one!”

The girl’s mother, Helen, hurried in the room, a baby in her arms.

“Oh… thanks, Andy!”

He merely smiled, bending to hold the child’s hand. And then he turned to you.

“You’re coming, love?”

He held out his free hand for you, and you easily slipped your fingers in his palm, without thinking, an offering you so easily made every time.

“Alright, we’re going to enjoy the snow, and then we’ll get ready for games!” Helen told her daughter, her young baby boy in her arms.

Meanwhile, John was helping his father cross the hall, his mother in tow, chatting with her sister.

It was a little overwhelming. As one of Andrew’s uncle was starting a conversation with you, it felt overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people, people Andrew loved dearly. It was going well, though. You weren’t surprised to find that people longed to make you feel welcomed, that Andrew was showering you with affection, something proud shining through his smile every time he introduced you to someone new.

The cold bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside the house, hurrying in the garden to help the children build their snowman. You swore revenge when Andrew threw a snowball at you, and maybe it was your terrible aim making you hit one of the cousins instead of your boyfriend that started the fight. You weren’t sure, maybe it was simply one of the children. No matter who started it, you couldn’t stop laughing as you watched Andrew falling over in the snow, and then being showered with snowballs by all the adults present.

When he sat up again, his hair and beard were white with snow.

“So, that’s what you’ll look like when you’re old,” you laughed, offering him an open hand to help him stand again.

“You don’t like my impersonation of Santa?”

“You’re a little skinny, but I’ll give you a B for the effort.”

“How generous, ma’am…”

He gave you a crooked smile, and despite the silliness of the situation, you felt your heart stumbling in your chest at his innuendo.

“Don’t start! We’re with your family!” you admonished in a whisper.

He laughed, let you help him back to his feet. You brushed some snow off him.

“You need to get dry, or you’ll catch your death.”

“I like it when you do that.”

“Do what, honey?”

“Get all… worried about me. When you take care of me.”

You rolled your eyes, but still felt your chest grow warm at his words.

“Well… it’s only fair of me, cause you take really good care of me, too.”

He bent to peck your lips a couple of times, but before he could hold you in his arms again, he was shivering.

The rest of his family was going back to the house anyway, as Maggie was now yelling in excitement.

“GAMES!”

Dinner had turned into quiet conversations. Sitting by your side, Andrew was chatting and laughing with his favourite cousins, while his mother and aunts were busy luring you into the next yearly family gathering.

“We just come together and spend a nice day catching up!” Raine explained.

“Aside from Christmas, it’s the one time of the year when everyone is gathered and we can all be together,” her sister nodded. “You need to come to the next one… we usually plan these around May or June.”

Andrew’s heart was filled with happiness and love as he caught your answer.

“I’d love to,” you nodded.

“And then you need to come every year!” Raine warned you, and you nodded.

“Of course, I’d love to come.”

Andrew’s favourite aunt reached for your hand.

“We like you a lot. You’re a very nice girl, very smart… you and Andy have our blessing.”

Your answer came in an emotional breath.

“Thank you…”

“OI! EVERYONE UP! IT’S NOT EVEN MIDNIGHT AND EVERYBODY’S BORING!”

The sudden voice of his uncle Danny came booming into the living room. Before anyone could argue, he was putting on some music, and soon, most people were dancing.

Not Andrew, of course. He was everything but a dancer, that was not his thing, and he didn’t want to go through any kind of humiliation. Especially not in front of his cousins, who would make sure to remind him of his glorious missteps until his death…

You snuggled closer to him on the couch, wrapping your arm around his, locking your elbow with his.

“Are you okay, my darling?” he asked, voice tender as he dropped a sweet kiss to your temple.

“Yeah… just getting tired.”

“It’ll soon be midnight.”

“Hmm…”

“Are you having a good time? You’re not too overwhelmed?”

“I’m having a really good time. Your family is very nice. Okay, perhaps Finn is a little… boring…”

“He could put any insomniac to sleep in two minutes. Tops.”

You both laughed. But then, the song that was played changed, and he didn’t like the look in your eyes as you looked up at him… he didn’t like it one bit…

“Andy! Come and dance with me!”

“I don’t dance, love…”

“Come on! Or else I’ll have to dance with another lad…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Terrifying thought.”

“Please… please… It’s Christmas… do this for me…”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, and God, he couldn’t resist you. He simply couldn’t…

“Alright, alright…” he grumbled, faking annoyance when he didn’t mind, really. Dancing with you meant being near you, and he welcomed any occasion to be close to you.

You were already singing along to Last Christmas when you took his hands in yours and pulled him into a silly, carefree dance. Your laughter warmed him more than the sun in the heat of summer, the way you looked at him with so much love made him believe in everything good in this world all over again… did you know how much he loved you? How happy you made him? How much better his life was now that you were in it?

“Babe… about that family gathering in spring…”

“Yeah?” you asked, before you would twirl, and land back in his arms with a giggle that spread to his own lips.

“I… I would love for you to come. I… I really want you to come. But if you’re not comfortable, if you don’t want to, I’d understand…”

“I want to come, baby. I want to come.”

You exchanged a pair of bright grins.

“Grand… that’s grand, like…”

He cleared his throat, tried to hide the wave of affection that overtook his senses, made his brain all fuzzy with a happy static.

He sang along too when the next chorus came, laughing at your silly dance and your over-excited singing. You seemed so happy… He was so happy…

“This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special…”

Oh, Andrew had indeed given his heart to someone special, this time around. Someone extraordinary…

Andrew drove you both back to Dublin the next day. In the trunk of his car rested the two piles of books you had offered each other for Christmas. Books you had been excited to read, you were surprised at how accurate his selection had been. But then again, why were you so surprised? Andrew listened.

Your friends and Andrew’s finally arrived. You were glad to see Alex again, he had been off to the West Coast for a few weeks because of work, while you were growing accustomed to spending more time with him. It felt strange to have him away for too long, Andrew and him were too close for that.

“So… what kinds of terrible things has this one done while I was away?” Alex asked you, sipping on a beer, sitting next to you on Andrew’s sofa.

Andrew merely rolled his eyes.

“Nothing too outrageous, I’m afraid,” you laughed. “What about you? What outrageous things have you been up to?”

“Oh… the usual. A bit of drinking, a lot of bass guitar… a lot of working.”

“You’re no craic.”

“Neither are you, Pr. Boring Job.”

“What about your love life? Is it still the Sahara Desert?”

“How dare you? Have you looked at what you settled for?” he asked, nodding towards Andrew, who laughed good-heartedly.

“Oh… you mean, the hottest and smartest guy in the room?”

Andrew gave his friend a bright smirk.

“You were saying, mate?” he teased, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t mind him, he’s deflecting the question,” you reassured your boyfriend, before focusing on Alex again.

He laughed, admitted defeat.

“Yeah… nothing serious happened, at least.”

“You know what your problem is? I think you’re a romantic at heart.”

“Me? You’re the one dating the biggest sap ever born on this island!”

“I think you want to really fall in love before it becoming serious enough to actually date. That’s why you’re always single.”

“Or maybe it’s because of my shitty ex.”

“Hmm… that too,” you nodded, making all three of you laugh. “But you know… maybe I can find someone for you.”

“Absolutely not! I’m not looking for love anyway, you’d be wasting your time.”

“If love came when we feel ready, it would be a lot easier than it actually is.”

“You’re talking from experience?” Alex asked, nudging his best friend, who merely shoved him away playfully.

You were about to fight back, when the door rang, and you were too excited to carry on that conversation. Instead, you jumped to your feet, ran to the front door. The second Siobhán saw you, she jumped into your arms.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, it’s been too long!” she complained.

“Yeah, it has… Come on in! I’ll get you a beer.”

“God, I need that… the traffic was awful around Dublin…”

You offered her a drink, introduced her to your friends gathered in Andrew’s apartment, then you invited her to take a seat with you, Andrew and Alex.

“This is Alex, by the way,” you indicated as your friend sat down. “Andy’s best friend.”

They greeted each other, Siobhán warm and Alex a little shy.

But you looked around the room, caught Colm deep in conversation with Rory and his wife, looked at how your world and Andrew’s blended beautifully together. You were a little nervous, but your best friend was no exception, and she fitted into your new bubble of love perfectly. You were surprised at how well she and Alex were getting along, both of them seeming to silently agree to team up to tease you and Andrew endlessly.

When Andrew took your hand in his, gave you a goofy grin, you felt so loved, in this place you called a home, with these people who loved you as much as you loved them.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XVII)

Chapter 17 : ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’

Hi! Here is new chapter! Some cuteness and bounding between our MC and Andrew…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3483

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

It was early

It was early,   which has always been my hour     to begin looking       at the world

and of course,   even in the darkness,     to begin       listening to it,

especially   under the pines     where the owl lives       and sometimes calls out

as I walk by,   as he did     on this morning.       So many gifts!

What do they mean?   In the marshes     where the pink light        was just arriving

the mink   with his bristle tail     was stalking       the soft-eared mice,

and in the pines   the cones were heavy,     each one       ordained to open.

Sometimes I need   only to stand     wherever I am       to be blessed.

Little mink, let me watch you.   Little mice, run and run.     Dear pine cone, let me hold you       as you open.

Mary Oliver, Evidence, 2009

The rain made a reassuring rhythm as it fell on rooftops and windowpanes. It was kind of perfect for today’s ventures through bookstores with Andrew. You both had books to buy, had decided to go together. Of course, you had two titles in mind, and had already five books in your arms. As per usual.

By your side, Andrew was softly humming. A habit of his, you had discovered. One that came through when he was fully relaxed and happy, a sign of contentment. Today’s tune was fitting the moody weather and the warmth of bookshops. Autumn in New York…

“Andy… I need your professional expertise.”

He looked up at you, glasses perched on his nose, hair tied back but loose curls still fell around his face, a couple of them hiding his right eye and the freckle above it. He looked welcoming, warm, like a blanket and hot cocoa in winter, like the cracking of fire in the hearth of a safe home.

“Devotion, Mary Oliver?” you asked, holding up the book in your hand.

He grinned.

“A must-read, obviously. Breathtaking. I have a copy though, if you want to borrow it. It’s a good selection of her poetry.”

“Would you say I will want to go back to it constantly after I’ve read it?”

“I do go back to it often,” he conceded, and you heaved a sigh.

You placed it on the pile of books that was slowly but surely growing in your arms.

“You have a terrible influence on me,” you sighed, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m merely answering your question.”

“My bank account hates you and your reliable recommendations, just so you know.”

“I’ve finished The Song of Achilles, by the way,” Andrew mentioned it as if it was but a detail, but you noticed the smile he was trying to refrain.

“And?”

“It was… good.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, making him laugh.

“Alright, alright… I liked it a lot, actually.”

“How much did you cry?”

“What makes you think I cried at all?”

“Huh… because you have a beating heart, obviously?”

You saw the glimmer in his eyes, the tug of a cheeky smile on his lips that he tried to hide. You knew he was going to make a stupid joke, and that you would fall for it and laugh.

“How do you know I have one?”

“You’re alive,” you answered, playing along as you narrowed your eyes.

“So you think! I am actually un-dead. You foolish mortals should quake in fear before me.”

“How do you hide the smell of decomposition so well, then?” you asked back, and you noticed the way he was surprised by your answer, the absolute thrill he had because you were yielding into his dark humour.

“Perfume. Like the French.”

“You know it’s a myth.”

“Is it?”

“No idea.”

“I learned from the best, in the 1600s, when it grew out of fashion to stink.”

“So, what are you? A zombie?”

“No, I’m not! I’m not a brainwashed decomposing corps, how dare you?”

“Because you think you’re a vampire?”

“I would be a grand vampire!”

“Definitely a tall one, for sure.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, struggling so hard not to laugh you knew he had stopped breathing.

“Careful, mortal.”

“What are you gonna do? Sink your teeth in my jugular? Well, go ahead!”

You offered your neck to him, were surprised when his smile faltered and he fiercely blushed while staring at the skin you were now exposing.

“Besides, I’m sure I would get rid of you easily,” you teased again, replacing your scarf as it was before, and Andrew seemed to be breathing once more.

“You seem to doubt my vampiric powers to an annoying degree,” he went on again, following you as you walked further down the poetry section, before you’d stop again to look at another shelf of the same aisle.

“Hmm… maybe you are a vampire, indeed,” you pouted, acting like pondering a question. “I bet your white arse does get burned at the smallest ray of sunshine.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain his laughter anymore, it came out in a loud wave, the sound alone making you grin.

“Right, that’s right,” he nodded, doubling with laughter.

“Crispy bacon, I bet.”

His laughter came back renewed in a new wave. It lit up the entire shop, even the world beyond it.

“I cook in the sun,” he nodded, trying to calm down although his words still came out distorted by the lack of air in his lungs. “I become edible, at one point.”

You laughed too, bright and happy, the way you felt with Andy that rainy afternoon.

You didn’t have a care in the world in that moment. Basking in your shared laughter over some silly jokes, in a bookshop you loved, spending all the money you could have saved for later in life, but who cared about later? There was Andy laughing, the pile of books under his arm, the light reflected on his glasses, the pitter patter of the rain. Wasn’t that enough to fill up a world? An entire life?

You were so glad he was your friend now…

“You didn’t answer. How much did you cry?” you asked again, picking up a book, but placing it back on the bookshelf almost immediately, not liking how it looked.

“Quite a lot,” he finally admitted.

“Told you, you would. What did you think?”

He heaved a sigh, and you knew what was coming. You knew he was about to babble away for ten minutes and analyse everything in depth and question the changes made compared to the Iliad, and be too clever for his own good… He was an academic, after all.

He did exactly as you had predicted, you smiled the entire time, discussing some points with him, giving your opinion which he listened to attentively, bouncing back on your arguments to carry the conversation further. And you loved it. Every second of it. Being challenged that way about a book you had loved made your brain buzz in the best way.

You heaved a dreamy sigh, turning towards the shelves filled to the brim with books to buy.

“Oh, but can you imagine though? What it must feel like to have someone loving you that much?”

You ran your fingers across the spines of books before you, read a few titles; it was like touching dreams.

“Do you imagine what it must feel like to write about love that way? To love someone so much you write about them? To have someone writing about you?”

You smiled, a soft gesture as you let your hand fall back by your side.

“What else could we write about, though?”

You turned to Andrew, surprised by his sudden silence, and found him staring at you with an unreadable expression, you weren’t sure whether he was sad or simply deep in thoughts. You noted the red on his cheeks, though.

He seemed to hesitate, his lips parting, and then closing again.

“Like that could happen to us,” you laughed at your own silly thoughts. “Right… I’m done, I can’t allow myself to buy more books! Are you ready? Or do you require more snooping around?”

A smile was back on his lips, although Andrew still seemed a little shaken, you didn’t know why. He nodded anyway, looking down at the five books he was holding.

“I’m all good. Erm… I’m gonna order one, they didn’t have it. I’ll be quick.”

You nodded, let Andrew ask for the book he wanted, while you watched the rain fall outside, the lines it drew on the windowpane, the silhouettes hurrying back and forth in the street.

You didn’t hear Andrew joining you again, you jumped as he spoke.

“Ready?”

You had a new conversation going while you waited to pay for the books; and when it was time to walk out of the bookshop and part for the day, you didn’t want to. It was still early, you had no place to be on that Saturday afternoon. You wanted to finish this conversation with Andrew, you wanted to listen to his deep voice a little longer, let his calmness soothe you…

He looked into the street before you, holding the door open for you, but you remained motionless by his side. The rain was heavier now. It was so cold outside, you wondered if snowflakes weren’t hiding in the droplets.

“Want to get a coffee?” Andrew asked after a short silence.

You looked up at him, exchanged a glance. You read the same eagerness to stay in his eyes. You grinned.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

You were laughing at Andrew as you ran to the coffeeshop set right across the street when he slipped, almost falling, and cursing loudly at the clumsiness of his tall limbs. The rain was so cold over your face, you savoured the feeling the same way you enjoyed Andrew’s hand on your back when he told you to hurry inside.

“Wow… your standards for that date are… very high,” Andrew declared, pushing his rebel strands of hair behind his ear.

He cursed in a sigh, mumbling something about his hair tie not ‘doing anything’, and he pulled on it to free his hair. He shook his head to let his curls free; you tried hard not to stare, failed miserably…

“You asked for like… the dream date. The absolute dream. I’ve given you the absolute dream. The unreachable standard.”

“So… a movie in a field or clearing, a picknick, at night, and with lights hanging from trees.”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

“You asked for the dream! That would be so fucking romantic!”

“It’s not even feasible, on a purely logistical point. How do you watch a movie in the woods? On a laptop?”

“No! I want it like… projected on a screen, like in cinema.”

“You want to go to an outdoor screening…”

��No! I want to be alone with the guy!”

“That’s impossible.”

“Projectors do exist, you know!”

“How do you create that set up where there is no one…?”

“I’ve never said I will ever get that! That it will happen! I’ve just said… that if anything could happen… I would like a date where we would be just together, in the middle of nowhere, watching a movie we both like and eating good food in a magical setting. Or it doesn’t have to be in the middle of nowhere, it can be… like… in a garden!”

“In this economy? Who owns a garden? Are you a millionaire?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Bantering with Andrew was such a nice sport…

“Why not just… go to a cinema?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Black, no sugar nor milk. Always the same order. Predictable guy…

“You can’t talk in a cinema. But you’re supposed to get to know the other person during a first date.”

“A restaurant then? You’ll go to the cinema for a second date.”

“Restaurants are okay,” you conceded. “And again, you asked for the dream. The one that is not achievable. That no man would ever do.”

“Because it’s not logistically possible.”

“Because no man would go to such length for someone else.”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the sudden pessimism in your voice. The mood shifted a little, from casually playful to something more serious, even a little sad.

You kind of hated your own thoughts, hated your weakness that made you unable to hold back the rest of your words, but they spilled out anyway.

“Especially not for me.”

Andrew’s expression changed from surprised to a deep frown. He opened his mouth to argue, but you interrupted him before he had as much as a chance to say a word.

“Never mind that. Anyway… let’s talk about something else. It’s your turn to answer a question!”

You narrowed your eyes, mischief back on your features, and if Andrew didn’t seem fully convinced by your sudden change of subject, he yielded anyway.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

“I can ask you whatever I want?”

“Sure… I might not answer though.”

You looked for something that would make him blush for sure, just to tease…

“Weirdest place where you’ve had sex?”

Andrew broke into laughter, clearly uncomfortable now, and blushing like a tomato all the way up to the tips of his ears. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. And yet, when he looked at you again, there was something wicked in his gaze, something beyond playful.

“That… is a very personal question to ask a lad.”

“You’re the one who started asking about my dating preferences.”

“Dating and having sex are quite… different. One is much more tamed.”

“Only if the date isn’t that good.”

He smiled, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek. You knew he liked that, the challenge of talking to someone witty.

“Fair enough,” he nodded, still staring at you, his voice lower and deeper than usual.

Your stomach clenched, you felt warmth spread across your entire frame under the combination of his stare and his suave ton.

He knew how to be a dangerous flirt, alright…

“I’m afraid I’ll be a little disappointing though. I haven’t had crazy experiences,” he admitted. “I guess… I don’t know… a car?”

“A classic!”

“It wasn’t very nice, to be fair…”

“Really?”

He winced, taking a deep breath.

“Very long limbs in a secluded space is all I’m gonna say about it.”

You chocked on your coffee, laughing so hard your belly was soon painful. And Andrew was laughing as well.

“Oh, no! The woods! That’s weirder!” he changed his answer, looking at the ceiling as he seemed to look through his memories. “Yeah, the woods, actually.”

“Risky business. I bet you’ve traumatised an entire family of badgers.”

“Several of them, definitely!” he chuckled, drinking and taking a bite of his cheesecake.

“Alright, next question!” you eagerly asked, making Andrew smile.

“Erm… like… erm… If you could go anywhere in the world now… Like… you’re just, transported like that,” he explained, snapping his fingers for good measure, “where would you like to go, and why?”

“Oh… It would have to be a place far away if I can teleport there and not suffer through twenty hours of flying… erm… Probably Australia or something like that. Or New-Zealand! Oh yeah… going full on hardcore Lord of the Rings fan in New-Zealand, that would be nice.”

“You’d make a very good elf,” he chuckled, but you shook your head.

“Oh, I want to be a hobbit! Quiet, eating a lot of good food, reading books, complaining about people all day long, like… with your busiest time of the day being going for a walk through the nearby fields. Yeah, I want that life.”

Andrew’s gaze softened.

“That sounds nice, indeed.”

You looked for a question to ask him while munching on your cupcake.

“Where would you like to live? Like… if you had an unlimited amount of money, and you could just… buy any house, anywhere in the world… where would you like to live?”

Andrew hummed as he was thinking of an answer, looking by the window at the rain that was still falling and showing no sign of stopping. In the coffeeshop, Mumford and Sons were playing, you hummed along the tune while you waited for Andrew’s answer.

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m… so boring,” he admitted with a smile. “But I… I would really like to live in Wicklow. Like… in the countryside, in a very small town, and to have… like… some land and a huge garden. Some old house where you can feel the weight of time and of people who have lived there before, but… I mean, modernised, cause… comfort, you know?” he joked, looking at you again. “But yeah, I… I would really like to live in a quiet house, a place with a soul. And I want a garden. I… I would really like to keep bees, one day.”

“Bees?”

“Yeah… they’re my favourite insects, even animals to be fair. They’re so… interesting and quite cute. And I just… Can you imagine? Taking care of your bees, and making your own honey? I would really like that. I would really like that a lot. Nothing extravagant, nothing unreachable just… a house with a garden, and a couple of hives. Besides, Elwood would need a garden. I’m lucky, my parents live in the countryside. I… I think I’d like to live quite close to them, actually. When I was a child, we settled in Wicklow, and it was so nice. I loved growing up there. We didn’t have a farm but we were outside any big city. And it was just so nice. I’d like that.”

You felt your heart grow warm at his words. Something so simple he wanted. Bees and a garden, some place for Elwood to run…

“You are aware it would cost you your liver to have a cubicle in the middle of a field, right?” you asked, trying to think about something else than the way your heart was making happy jumps now.

He rolled his eyes.

“You said that I didn’t have to think about the money. With unlimited budget.”

You nodded, checked the time.

It was starting to be late, your coffee was almost empty and you had finished your cake. Time to go home.

Instead, you looked up at Andrew, noticed how long his eyelashes were as he looked down into his cup of coffee. Your request passed your lips before you could think the words you were speaking.

“Ask me something else.”

A week later, Andrew was back in the bookshop, although, he was on his own this time. The book he had ordered had been delivered, he was coming to pick it up. He wouldn’t buy anything else, just what he needed. He had already bought too many books with you, the previous week, learning that you could not be trusted either in a bookshop. He wasn’t surprised. A fond smile spread on his lips at the thought.

He was about to go pay for the book when something caught his eye. A name he recognised and that made him immediately think of you.

Dante Aleghieri

He walked over to the table where a few books were displayed, including this nice copy of the Divine Comedy. He picked it up, turned the book into his hands, weighted it as he hesitated. He hadn’t read that book since his college days, several years ago. At the time, he wasn’t interested in that story, and he reckoned he was too young to understand it. He had studied later on the bits and pieces that Seamus Heaney himself had translated, but that was all.

You loved Inferno though. You had found something in it. He wanted to find out what it was. Besides, it made him think of you…

He heaved a sigh, walked to pay for both books, carried them home.

That evening, he picked up Dante instead of finishing the novel he was currently reading. He checked on Elwood, who was softly snoring in the corner of the living room, before heading to bed himself. He readjusted his glasses on his nose before slipping under the covers, turning off his phone so he wouldn’t be interrupted or distracted, and he started reading.

He was drawn into the story now, more so than he remembered being the first time around. Of course, it was a book written over seven hundred years ago, with such Christian outdated thoughts that some pieces were lost to us. And yet, there was something haunting in its imagery, something touching in the pain inflicted. He made a mental note to research more about the political context that was debated in the book, he didn’t remember the story being so heavily driven by Dante’s political views, but it was. It was mostly political, mostly Christian too. He kept on reading through Canto I and II, until he had to stop, his breathing caught in his throat, his eyes clouded with tears as he reached Canto III.

Through me you enter into the city of woes,

Through me you enter into eternal pain,

Through me you enter the population of loss.

The words carved above the entrance of hell made him put down the book, stare up at the ceiling. It was silly, that wasn’t what the words meant in the context of the book, and yet… there was so much loss in his life at the moment…

 Through me you enter the population of loss.

The words played through his head again and again. What a beautiful way to describe grief…

He let out a breathy chuckle, blinking his tears away and smiling instead.

He should never doubt you. You seemed to always be right…

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XII)

Chapter 12 : Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again

Hi! Here is new chapter! This one is… interesting… Whiskey is very dangerous, indeed…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2527

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body        love what it loves. Tell me your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Dream work, 1986

You ended up at your place with Andrew. After that awful dinner you both needed some emotional support.

You didn’t talk about the meal though. He didn’t mention how Frank had hurt you, you didn’t talk about how Andrew deserved better than Sam.

That was your final conclusion after the evening. Andrew deserved better than her. You didn’t know all the details that had drawn him away from a professional career in music, but you knew that it had been a tough decision to make for him. The way Sam made it sound, Andrew had simply given up. And yet, his eyes still lit up every time he talked of music.

You sat down on your couch with a bottle of whiskey, getting lost in thought as you replayed the conversation through your head. You had noticed how Sam had stopped listening the second you had started talking about your job, about music… about things Andrew loved. And perhaps you were too busy grieving for him, but was Frank the same with you? Because Andrew deserved someone who listened, someone who actually cared…

What did both Andrew and Frank saw in Sam that you didn’t? The question was relentless, spinning in your head again and again, a fly trapped under a glass trying to escape. What did you lack that she had?

You watched Andrew as he downed his first glass of whiskey. Neat. No ice or anything. He didn’t flinch, merely let out a long exhale as he let his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch.

“God… that felt good. I needed that,” he sighed, pouring himself another glass while you drank yours as well.

You winced slightly at the burn of the liquor, but silently asked for more anyway.

“What’s next on the list of things to ruin?”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“I reckon we haven’t really ruined anything yet… but… I guess not much until the New Year. You’re still coming to their party?”

“Of course,” you sighed. “We need to make a plan for this. We need to ruin something and then save the day.”

“We should ruin the champagne.”

“And replace it with another excellent one? Good idea. That could work for you.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know… Maybe help Sam. That would impress him.”

“Hmm… a knight in shining armour? Ruin her dress and you fix it?”

“Oh…. That’s nice! You’re very good at this Andy, that’s a little scary!” you joked, nudging him. “I could give her my dress, and wear some disgusting clothes instead. The self-sacrifice will make him grow fond of me.”

“I’ll make sure to have the worst change of clothes in my car.”

“Perfect.”

“They said they wanted to organise the party in some sort of club…”

“Hmm… I bet you love the idea.”

“I’m already panicking at the mere thought.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

You thought yourself silly for offering such a useless argument, but Andrew didn’t seem to think of it that way. Instead, he gave you a grateful smile.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, question aimed the ceiling as you sighed, Andrew shifted by your side.

“Because we love them.”

His voice sounded like a lie. It was true though. It had to be, somehow…

You drank again, tried to think of something else, let silence settle instead. It was okay. Silence with Andrew felt comfortable, like the world shushed under a blanket of snow. Natural. Slow.

And outside the world kept on turning, as if you weren’t in pain, as if you weren’t grieving. Wasn’t that a strange truth? Frank had left, and the world hadn’t stopped with him. You wished you could feel it spinning again, look at the rest of the world and feel its beating, and be part of it once more. Maybe, if someone listened to you, and understood you, and made you feel safe again… if you could be yourself with them…

“I’m glad you listened to the record,” Andrew spoke after a while and another emptied drink.

“I loved it.”

“It’s one of my favourites. My father listened to it often when I was a child.”

“Is he the one who made you love music so much, your father?”

Andrew nodded.

“He was sick when I was a child. Bad surgery on his spine. He never recovered.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a drummer, back in the days. And even after everything changed he just… I don’t know. No matter what we said to each other, how angry we were, how much we argued… we’ve always had music in common. Even when we couldn’t communicate properly, we would put on a record, sit in silence and listen to it, and then we’d discuss it, and things would get better.”

You knew that he was blinking tears away, heard him sniffing. He wasn’t looking at you and you were still staring at the white ceiling. It didn’t matter. Perhaps it even made it easier.

“I just… I didn’t… I made a choice, back in the days, you know? I wasn’t being a coward or something, I just… I didn’t want to tell other people’s words; words that I didn’t care about, I wanted people to listen to me. I wanted to make something that was true and earnest. I wanted… I wanted for someone to listen to me…”

He sniffed. You reached across the couch for his hand, easily found his fingers. He held your hand so easily, like it was obvious, like your hands were meant for that gesture, for holding onto each other. His so large, yours so small in comparison…

“I thought she used to listen, but I don’t know anymore. She wasn’t listening tonight. She hasn’t listened in a while. Do you think…? Do you think she ever listened to me? I had so much to say that I couldn’t express, I didn’t know how, I still don’t know how… I wanted her to listen… God I wanted for someone to listen, just once… just once…”

You tightened your hold on his hand, and you hoped that he would understand what you meant by this simple gesture. That you were listening now. That you listened. That you understood him. That you were there…

“Thank you.”

His voice was a mere whisper, but it was enough.

You struggled with your own tears as you spoke again, your voice shaking.

“I don’t understand why Frank needed to wait for me, and not for her. What… I feel like I’m lacking something…”

“You’re not.”

You felt his stare on you now, but you kept your own gaze set on the ceiling.

“You’re not lacking anything, stop it. Frank is the one who left…”

“Because he saw something in Sam he didn’t see in me. And I don’t know what it is. And I’m scared… I’m scared that I thought he cared about me, and he didn’t. I’m scared to have built my life on that kind of lie. And the worst is… I still want it. I want the life he promised me.”

You were surprised when Andrew let go of your hand. But then you felt his palm cupping your cheek, the brush of his thumb drying your tears.

You finally turned to him, he gave you a sad but soft smile.

“Don’t cry over him. Please, don’t cry.”

You sniffed, let him caress your skin for a moment longer. It felt reassuring, anchoring. Soft and tender. Safe. You felt safe with him…

You shook yourself, moved to the bottle of whiskey again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t cry,” you nodded, drying your face on your arm. “Let’s get hammered instead, that was the deal!”

Andrew silently agreed by handing you his empty glass for a refill.

“Tell me something silly,” he requested.

“Something silly?”

“Something about… your college days. Those are always worth a good laugh.”

“It’s good craic,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Alright… I’ll tell you a couple of stories. But you’ll have to tell me some as well!”

“Fair enough.”

You exchanged a smile, united your glasses with a cling.

And then you talked about yourself. And he listened.

Your head was spinning, you weren’t sure anymore if it was because of the alcohol or how much you were laughing.

You let yourself fall back into the sofa, holding on your painful stomach, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. God, you hadn’t laughed so hard in… you were about to think ‘since Frank’ but you couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard with him.

“There was this one time,” Andrew went on. “I was playing with a band… Alex thought it would be hilarious to hide my guitar… I was so fucking panicked, I fell down the stairs leading to the stage and almost broke my neck…”

You doubled over with laughter, and he followed you close.

“How did you pay him back?”

“I told the girl he fancied he couldn’t read music, and she went on to teach him…”

You were hysterical at that point.

“And then…” Andrew choked on his own breath, and it took him a moment to recover and speak again. “Then, he was too afraid that she would push him away if he said anything, so he pretended he didn’t know and let her teach him all over again…”

You were both laughing too hard, the alcohol blurring your senses and making the stupid jokes and silly stories funnier than they ought to be. You looked at the bottle of whisky, admired the empty part of it, felt the burn of its effects on your cheeks.

And you looked at Andrew who was drying his cheeks, his long fingers spread across his stomach. He took off his glasses, they were wet with happy tears. He put them down on your coffee table and leaned into the couch again, slouched and comfortable, with his cheeks flushed with the liquor you had been drinking through the evening. His hair was held back in a messy bun, that had only become messier along the evening.

Damn, you couldn’t help the thought when it crossed your mind, because he was so bloody handsome…

He felt your stare on him, turned his attention fully to you. Focused and expectant, as if he knew you were about to say something incredibly interesting. And this black shirt he had on…

There were butterflies in your stomach and stutters on your tongue while your heart was pounding. You didn’t think. You didn’t think at all, you only felt, and wanted and easily yielded… and perhaps it was just the liquor, you would blame it on the whiskey in a few hours, but for now, you weren’t thinking about tomorrow morning. And for the first time in three months, you weren’t thinking about Frank at all either. Instead, you were thinking of Andrew, of how gentle and warm he looked sitting with you on your couch, how inviting his lips were, how you longed to touch his hair and his beard and him and…

… and then your lips were on his.

You felt him raising his eyebrows, but when you leaned closer and let your fingers find their way to his cheeks, the brush on your cheekbones told you he had closed his eyes too. And there you were, kissing him, and he was kissing you back, your mouths moving in perfect unison somehow, despite a first kiss and too much alcohol. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, while his other hand came up to cradle your face. The long fingers soon moved to your hair though, pulling you closer while he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a slow, lazy movement while you kissed, gasping for air every now and then, but your lips always connected again after a mere instant. You weren’t sure for how long you kept on kissing, too long for it to be meaningless, and yet you refused to think for now.

When you at last opened your eyes again, Andrew blinked at you, seeming a little shocked, and you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or not. You felt dizzy… dizzy with his scent, something of wood and a tinge of spices. Dizzy with his taste still on your tongue, a mixture of whiskey and something that was just him. Dizzy with the burn of his beard against your skin, with the heat of his body against yours.

Dizzy with him…

“Y/N?”

The way he whispered your name, his words a little slurred because of alcohol, and yet it sounded so good, tender, like he cradled the vowels and the consonants in his mouth, with tenderness in the way he spoke it out loud…

He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go, his hands on your waist and in your hair still, and you held onto him for a moment longer, admired how your kisses had reddened his lips.

Why did it feel so good to hold him? Why did it feel so good to kiss him…

“Erm… You… you kissed me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I did,” you whispered, refusing to pull away, remaining in his arms and your lips only centimetres away from his.

“You… I mean… We…”

You felt him leaning closer again as he took a deep breath, felt the brush of his lips on yours… but just when you were about to lean in, he pulled fully away, moving further away on the couch.

“Wait… what’s going on?”

You blinked up at him, regretting his brown curls between your fingers and the warmth of his breath against your mouth. But then your brain kicked in again, and your eyes grew round as the realization of your own movements sank in.

You had kissed him. You had kissed Andrew…

Holy…

“God, I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. God…”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, but it was obvious that he was shaken.

“That was so out of line, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay… I… I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think it went to my head.”

Why was your heart aching when you thought he regretted it. He should have regretted it. And you ought to regret it too…

“Frank and Samantha…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud, but Andrew caught your words and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, we… they are the ones we want.”

He slowly nodded, ran his hand across his face, as if to clear his head.

“You… you were just drunk. Just drunk…”

He looked at his watch.

“God…it’s almost 2 a.m. We should go to bed…”

You nodded again, but stopped him when he pulled out his phone.

“I have an extra bedroom, you can stay if you want.”

“I can take a uber.”

“It’s late. You can stay, if you want to.”

Slowly, he nodded.

You let him head to the bathroom, and hid inside your bedroom, resting your back against its wooden surface as you closed it.

What the fuck was that?