Aug 11, 2019
Fan Fic News
Anyone following to Fall for the Fae, that fic die to smutty graphic nature has been moved to AO3 and Wattpad along with my other two Hozier fanfics.
If you would like to read any of the 3 please DM me for the links!
seen from Denmark
seen from Australia
seen from Australia
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from Lithuania
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from Egypt
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
Fan Fic News
Anyone following to Fall for the Fae, that fic die to smutty graphic nature has been moved to AO3 and Wattpad along with my other two Hozier fanfics.
If you would like to read any of the 3 please DM me for the links!
To Fall for the Fae | 07 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 7: 1,870
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
***Warning Mild Sexual Language****
To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 7
Her hands were tender as they turned his arm this way and that, looking the bite over with a warm, peaceful demeanor. He couldnʼt help but watch.
“What?” she asked, not looking up at him. Instead, she dabbed another alcohol soaked piece of cloth over the deep puncture wounds. It stung like liquid fire deep in his muscles but he said nothing. He refused to even jerk as she pressed the cloth stronger against his skin to try and staunch the flow of sparkling silver that was quickly spilling onto the floor of her cabin.
He couldnʼt tear his eyes away from her face. The way her long black hair fell like a curtain and she constantly brushed it out of her eyes as she worked on him. Bits of silver glittered in her hair as his blood began to tint her hair. The blood showed no sign of slowing down and she let out a frustrated huff.
“Nothing.” He whispered quietly in response to her question. Still he didnʼt look away. She raised her eyes momentarily to look him in the eyes then turned back to the task at hand.
“These are deep. Youʼre lucky it didnʼt take your whole arm.” She pressed even harder against his skin until he could feel his arm throbbing with the force of it.
“I had control of the situation.” He reassured her.
“Oh yeah? Doesnʼt look like it. Hold this.” She instructed, indicating the cloth. Andrew took the cloth from her and held it as silver began to flow even stronger now that her rough pressure was gone. He felt the absence of her warm touch and his heart ached without it. He hated that he was so addicted to her touch. The feel of any bit of her skin against his.
He watched as she rifled through her drawers. Finally with a satisfied grunt she returned to the bed; her bed, he finally realized. The sunlight glinted off the bright metal of the needle. With very little effort, she threaded the bit of string through the eye.
“This isnʼt going to feel good,” she warned, pressing the tip against his skin. “It didnʼt feel good to start with. Did you have to pick blue thread?” He asked, letting out a hiss as the needle bit into his skin.
“I told you it wouldnʼt feel good and it was the only thread I had on hand. The village weaver...didnʼt make it,” she admonished and he instantly felt bad for his comment. He was being callous in the face of all that had happened here. He looked around her cabin. It was strung with mason jars filled with half melted candles. Colorful cloth hung from the walls and the ceiling, creating a kaleidoscope of the space. Everything was bright and cheery. Vastly different from the death and destruction that hung outside the door. He could still smell the stench of death as the smoke from the pyre filtered in through the open door.
She cut the thread with her teeth and he could feel a stirring deep within at the idea of her mouth so close to his skin. Her breath on his arm was hot and moist. She dabbed at the wound with the cloth once again, mopping up the rest of the silver from his skin. She pushed her hair back and looked up at him, satisfied.
It was without thought that he buried his hands in her hair, tugging gently at the strands as he pulled her face to his, crashing his lips against hers. They had kissed before, oh, had they rolled in the grass of fields, his lips against hers. Kisses stolen in the black darkness of the night, away from her mother, as they traveled here to the hell of the fae. The place she called home now a dark pit.
They had chalked it up to the wine they shared at night. They had chalked it up to anything but what it was. He could blame the blood loss. He could and yet, he couldnʼt. Not anymore.
Their lips finally parted a long time later. While her fingers were still tangled in his curly locks, he tilted his mouth until it was against her ear. His breath disturbed her long dark hair. It rose and moved in little tuffs as he tried desperately to keep the words in, but he no longer could.
“Madison, I am in love with you.”
OoOo
“She’s gonna save me. Call me baby. Run her hands through my hair...” His body did a ‘bouncy bouncy’ rhythm as he belted out the chorus of “Jackie and Wilson”. His music was his life blood. It was the ultimate expression of his innermost thoughts. His hidden desires, his fears, mostly eternal random bullshitery. His love of words, of the guitar, it all came pouring out in an eclectic mix of music. He could go from fast tempo to slow and sweet. He could make the crowd dance, rail, cry, and sing.
He put even more into his performance tonight. More than he thought he possibly could. Every performance he felt he gave his all. Tonight though, he knew he gave 1% more. One tiny sliver more of energy he gave to this. All because he knew his Wasteland, Baby was somewhere in that crowd.
OoOo
The roar of the crowd was deafening. He sang. The crowd sang back. The people writhed and undulated like holy rollers at a revival meeting. He could control them as easily as he used to control the things that went bump in the night. The forest dwellers. He could control them with a look. Here that voice, like a siren calling he brought their bodies from their daily stagnation into sweet movement.
It was all so intoxicating.
Madison switched from watching the crowd, back to staring at the Forest Father. That may no longer be his title but it was still how she thought of him in her mind. He carried his common name from the past life, the life he no longer remembered. The life they shared, already forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten. No, she was left to agonize every time she heard his music in every club and bar she danced in. To see him playing on television was like a knife twisting in her gut.
It was stupid to be here. This would end in no other way than tragedy. Still, she couldn’t force herself to leave.
“Feels good. God it feels good...” He sang in that sweet timbre.
“Oh, to be alone with you,” she whispered the words under her breath.
Then he howled like the wild beasts he used to control.
It was like her skin was burning. Her clit throbbed in time to the music. Fuck, that man could still control her body with just his voice.
When he began the first chords of “Cherry Wine” Madison could feel tears begin on her cheeks. The lights were dark with bits of red threaded from behind him. It made her feel self conscious about the tears falling. She let them come fast and furious, refusing to wipe them away.
“I walk my days on a wire,” she sung along with conviction in her voice. Every day for her was a tight wire act. Trying desperately to be herself, and at the same time keep Bates on some type of an even keel. Anything to keep him from flying into a rage; things got bad, very bad when he lost control. Still the Willow Woman in her cried out to be let free. To dance, to sing, to be loved, not controlled.
The tears came angry and fast.
Then it was over.
The lights came up and the stage was empty.
Her phone buzzed. She had been gripping it so tightly in her hand that she had angry red marks on her palm.
...Wasteland, Baby. Where are you?...
...In the crowd. It was an amazing set...
There was a pause and she sighed. He was probably decommissioning from performing and she would be getting home anyways.
...I’m doing a meet and greet after the show. Can you stick around? Someone will come get you...
She needed to get home. She couldn’t get herself to type those words. She couldn’t get herself to reject the invitation. She paused and took a deep breath, staring down at her phone.
OoOo
He looked down at the phone, worried. She hadn’t responded for a good long while and he felt his gut clench. Maybe he’d overstepped his boundaries?
...I can hang around for a while...
Her reply came and he felt a lift in his spirits. Her reply was simply and lukewarm. He didn’t love it, but he’d take it.
...I’ll send someone for you...
They were calling him out for the meet and greet. He felt strange. Like his body was slowly tingling. A low thrum under his skin, like his blood calling to something, though what,he didn't know.
The name Willow Woman came to his mind. He stared at his phone quizzically. Why did that name, if that’s what it was, sound so familiar to him? Why did he picture Madison when he thought of it?
His manager called his name again and he jerked from the thought. Still the name hung on his lips. Wanting desperately to be said.
“Willow Woman,” he whispered under his breath just to test it. It felt like a wind swept through the hall even though the door to the outside wasn’t open yet. His hair rustled with it. Something deep in his chest stirred. Like a dragon slowly unfurling it’s wings.
Something had happened. He simply didn’t know what.
OoOo
She gasped. Deep and aching, she bent over in the crowd. No one saw.
He’d called her name.
Not her common name.
Her name of the fae.
Did he remember? Could he be brought to remember?
“Forest Father,” she whispered and it hit her like an arrow to the heart. A connection deep and painful anchored in her. Tears pricked her eyes.
No, she shouldn’t have said it. Even if he did remember, she could never be his. She couldn’t back then. She couldn’t now.
“Madison?” Someone asked. She looked up through watering eyes at the man smiling kindly at him.
“Yes?” She asked tentatively.
“Hi, I’m Larry. I’ll bring you back to see Andrew.” Still he smiled and she felt a warm sense of comfort from him. Madison followed his outstretched hand and he followed at her side.
She tried desperately to cut the cord that now connected her to him, Forest Father, Andrew Hozier-Byrne as he was known now. She couldn’t no matter how much she tried.
What had she done?
They were doomed.
OoOo
Two souls crying out to each other.
One remembers.
One forgot long ago.
Together they’d laid in that field so long that they’d become flowers.
Oh so long ago.
Then, death was happy, welcomed, such was love.
Now, one welcomed the idea of death.
The other searched for the ability to live truly.
They were in love.
They were oblivious to it.
They were doomed.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo
The Fate of the Fae | 06 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst. Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut
Words: Chapter 6: 2,003
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy
The Fate of the Fae: Chapter 6
He’d told them he was no savior.
Still when he returned from the woods silently, not meeting their eyes, the clan scoffed. Some Forest Father indeed, they thought to themselves as he trudged past.
They ignored the thick stream of silver blood that ran a steady river from his upper bicep to his fingers. It stained the ground leaving a sparkling trail behind him as he made his way back to the village.
The dirt pathways that dissected the town, creating a makeshift road between the impermanent buildings were choked thick with the smoke of burning fae. He pulled the collar of his shirt up over his mouth.
Skirting his way around the burning funeral pyre he finally caught a glimpse of Willow Woman, now Madison as he called her in his mind, helping to carry limp bodies and heaving them onto the flames. The fae had sickness of their own and it was dangerous to leave so many dead in the open. Plus the scent of that thick silver blood attracted the monsters. Whether it was dried or fresh the sickly sweet scent of it drew them in like nectar to a bee. It was dangerous. Everything about this village cloaked in the stench of death was dangerous. He yearned for nothing more than to grab Madison and drag her kicked and screaming back to the safety of his cabin.
He’d settle even to live like nomads on the land. Camping out at the edge of the woods. He’d even let himself believe that she wouldn’t fear the trees. That she would plunge herself deep into the woods with him at her side. They could live, deep in the darkness of the forest, away from all of the evil of this world. She was pure of soul, the woods would accept her. He knew it in his featherlight bones. She was the light to the darkness deep within him. The light of this world was as bright as his willow baby. The night’s were as dark as the world of his baby but they were half as beautiful too.
He was half tempted to stalk towards her, throw her over his shoulder, and leave this place. She could bang her fists against his back and scream until she was hoarse but he was determined to get her away from here. Anywhere but this cursed place.
Andrew quickly realized that he was standing in the middle of the village intensely staring at the back of her form as a pool of his blood gathered at his feet. He shook himself and ran his uninjured hand through his hair groaning. The bite hurt like a bitch and he wasn’t happy about it.
He had made little progress in the forest. Barely getting a few feet into the woods one of the monsters had jumped him in a blind attack. He’d lifted his arm to cover his face and thus earned himself a wicked bite. The smell of his blood had attracted so many that he knew there was no chance of making anymore progress into the woods. He was looking for the leader not the lackeys. He’d landed one booted foot in the chest of the beast and heaved with his long limbs. It’d gone flying.
Before any of the others could get some fangs into him he’d turned intense eyes on them. There was a moment of complete silence as the entire forest paused. He knew he couldn’t hold them for long, not this many, still the Forest Father commanded their attention. He was the damn Forest Father for fuck’s sake they would bow under his gaze.
There was a chorus of growls but slowly they sank to their haunches. Quietly and smoothly he exited the woods still holding his gaze upon them. When he’d cleared the tree line the spell broke and he heard baying howls.
This place was cursed. This place was fucked.
Willow Woman as if sensing his pain or simple sensing him turned. She had a wet cloth tied over her mouth to help with the smoke. Without seeing her mouth he could not read her expression. Her eyes looked wet but whether from the smoke or something else he wasn't sure.
A small woman almost the size of a child laid a hand on her arm. The woman had long dark hair and olive skin. She turned to see what Madison was looking at and locked eyes on Andrew. She narrowed her eyes but still he couldn’t read her expression either with the cloth covering half of her face. She gave a small almost enthusiastic wave. Andrew gave a small lift of his hand in response. He realized then that her eyes weren’t narrowed but instead crinkled with a smile. She placed a hand on Willow Woman’s arm and leaned over to her ear to be heard over the fire. The blaze ate her words but Madison shot him another look before nodding.
She turned from her work and made her way to him. Pulling the cloth down from her mouth he could see that she was frowning. Her look made a knife twist in his stomach. It was the first time she didn’t look happy to see him. They stood for a moment staring each other down not saying a word. Finally her eyes locked on his arm and a look of tenderness passed over her face.
“You’re hurt.” It wasn’t a question. There was fire in her and he loved when it came out.
“It’s only a bite.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. It made him smile and when she saw him smiling she smiled too.
“What shall I do with you Forest Father?” She asked with a sound of fake exasperation in her voice.
“Andrew.” He supplied and she looked at him surprised. Then a feeling of warmth spread through his chest as her face lit up. “And...Madison...” He tested her name on his tongue. She didn’t protest at the use of her name so he continued. “You can do anything you want with me.”
OoOo
Alexis threw Madison’s door open to find her curled up on the bed her phone clutched to her chest. She clucked her tongue at the sight and moved to the window throwing open the curtains. Madison groaned from the bed and covered her eyes with her arms.
“Up, up, up. It’s almost noon. You’ve slept far too long.” Alexis opened the window letting fresh air flood the room that smelled of staleness.
“I was up late.” Madison complained still covering her face.
“Your point being?” Alexis leaned her head out the window staring up at the bright blue sky, cloudless for once. “Where is Tom?”
“Tom?” Madison asked sounding groggy.
“Yes. Tom as in Tom. The red breasted robin. He’s usually here by now. Tom!” She yelled out the window.
“Not so loud for goodness sake!” Madison harshly whispered at her. “Bates will hear you.” She hissed.
“Oh your ‘betrothed’” Alexis said the word sarcastically before continuing “...left with The Snake a few hours ago. We’re in the clear for all types of mischief and fun. Now seriously where is Tom. Tom!” She shouted out the window again. For such a small woman she could make so much noise.
“I can’t believe you named the bird Tom. It’s so generic. Why do you need him anyways?”
“What was I supposed to call him? Balthazar? I want to know where Bates has gone.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a scandalous idea that will get us both in some very deep shit. We’ll be fine as long as I can keep tabs on that idiot you’re supposed to marry.” Madison refrained from pointing out that Bates registered on the spectrum of genius because she’d called him worst names than that before.
Alexis was almost always too kind about him. She was too kind about anyone really. She was the only fae from her previous life that Bates had allowed to stay with Madison. Ripped from her village, her mother, and everything she knew Alexis had demanded to come with them. She was small but she was scary. Not willing to start a fight over something so petty Bates had allowed it. Alexis with her uncanny ability to talk to trees and birds came in handy. Not to mention she was Madison’s best and only friend.
“What idea is this?” Madison asked cautiously.
“Remember that beau you fell so hard for last night?” Alexis asked looking at Madison finally. She registered the fat lip she was sporting from The Snake’s hand but said nothing. “Oh don’t look at me like that. The elm on Main Street told me about it.” Madison rolled her eyes at Alexis but they both smiled.
“Yes, I remember. What about him?”
“He’s playing a concert today and we’re going.” Madison wanted to argue. So many words came to her mind but she couldn’t bring herself to say any of them. She desperately, oh so desperately, wanted to see him again.
“What’s the plan?”
“Oh girl you should know me by now, there’s no plan.” Alexis grinned with pure mischief burning in her eyes. Madison swallowed hard a ball of nervous energy having nothing to do with her husband finding out forming in her stomach. Still she didn’t argue as Alexis went to her large freestanding oak wardrobe and began throwing outfit choices on the bed.
OoOo
Staring down at his phone for the hundredth time he typed another text trying to sound cute instead of crazy and incomprehensible. He quickly deleted it and began texting again. Finally he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall he was sitting against. He gently bumped his head against the painted cement but his wild mane of hair absorbed most of the pain.
Why? Why couldn’t he come up with anything to say. His long legs cramped from being in the same position for so long. He stood and began to pace the hallway. The sound check had gone well and he was already pumped for the upcoming show.
They’d be letting the crowd in soon and already he could feel their energy like a low thrum through his body.
He wanted her.
He groaned and tore his hand through his curly hair. In this light it looked alight like a blazing fire. It matched the way his brain was burning searching fruitlessly for words.
He wrote songs. He was a king among thieves when it came to clever phrasing. Yet, he came up with nothing.
He thought again of his dream. Her sweet skin salty with sweat as he ran his tongue over it. The little gasps that escaped her with each thrust. He felt completely out of control inside of her. Like he would lose himself in her.
With another growl he typed furiously. His finger hovered over the send button. With a shaky breath he hit send and almost immediately flung his phone across the hallway. He refrained instead sitting once again, wrapping his long arms around his knees and resting his head on top.
OoOo
She glanced down at her phone and her heart leapt into her throat.
...Wasteland Baby, I’m playing a concert today, will you come?...
She knew who it was from even though she didn’t recognize the number. Madison typed back with vigor never hesitating.
...Oh baby, I will most definitely come...
OoOo
He took a deep breath and glanced at the text. He read over the words several times before smiling. He practically leapt up. He had a bounce to his step that he usual reserved for when they rocked out “Jackie and Wilson” in front of the crowd.
She’d come. Oh would she come.
OoOo
She escaped her gilded cage for a moment.
A modern Cinderella with wings.
The forest king awaited her arrival.
Unknown royalty among winglessly winged.
The glass slipper awaited to be shattered.
The bond grew.
As did the danger.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo
To Fall for the Fae | 03 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 3: 1,681
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 3
The village had been fighting the beasts for a long time. They came from the woods dragging their hairy bodies through the dirt paths between the makeshift structures. They stole food, destroyed property, then eventually they began to kill. The tore into the skin of an unsuspecting fae. The taste of that pure silver blood drove the beasts nearly mad. They hunted then. Their twisted limbs moved them quicker than you would imagine. Hunting the fae became a sport. The village lived in constant fear.
A village elder, her face a mass of creases from years of smiles and laughter was now wroth with worry lines. Her forehead forever furrowed. She feared for her clan.
The forest father was the answer.
They had heard stories of him. The winglessly winged creature who sung in such an unearthly way that it quelled the wilderness that surrounded all of them.
It was rumored that half crazed he had run into the forest and in an act of mercy raised a heavy stone above his head and crashed it down upon the skull of a dying monster. Forever from then the forest respected him.
His voice soothed the trees, the animals, the strange monsters lurking within.
Three times the elder sent a messenger to fetch the forest father.
They begged. They pleaded. They didn’t dare demand.
Their numbers dwindled as the village was ravaged by these creatures rarely seen by others.
In a moment of desperation the elder left the terrified village herself her daughter in tow.
Her daughter was not a towering tree though neither was she small. Yet, when she stood her full length she looked like a pillar. She was her mother’s pride. He long locks running down her shoulders in dark waves. When she danced it was the dance of the forest. She called just as strongly to the trees as the forest father.
The elder hoped the forest father would sense that in her and find a kindred spirit. The elder felt guilty for using her daughter as bait but her village needed her.
They arrived at twilight at the steps of the forest father’s humble abode. They were greeted by the sweet twangs of a guitar. It was delicious music, like nectar to the soul.
Her daughter as if in a trance begin to follow the music as if her heart led her feet.
They found him on the back porch. Guitar in hand a thin stream of smoke coming from his mouth. His eyes were locked on the forest. His fingers moved nimbly. He was a sight to behold.
His eyes fell on the Elder first then as if involuntarily her daughter made the smallest of noises. His eyes moved to her.
He took a deep intake of breath as their eyes locked. Her daughter let out a little gasp. It was as if as one breathed in the other breathed out. They exchanged their breaths connecting on a level that was unrecognizable to the Elder.
This was the fate of the fate.
He said one sentence as his eyes never left her daughter’s face.
“I’ll come.”
OoOo
She was the answer to the call. She was what his soul called to. She was so close, a few feet away dancing slowly still to song after song. He body had energy to release and she did so with the move of her hip and each movement of her hands. She itched for a partner yet, she was alone but not lonely in her dance.
With each movement it was like a veil she held over herself dropped off. With each song she became herself more and more. She shed the armor that she had built around herself. Another song, another veil, another piece of armor gone. She slowly stood naked of the persona she put on for the people she cared little for.
He was entranced. She was...it. There was no better way to put it.
“Be still my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me.” He breathed out.
“What?” Larry called over the noise of the bar. It snapped Andrew momentarily from the connection that he was sharing with her. He glanced at Larry feeling almost like dismissing him but his kind heart refused to allow him to do that.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“Is everything alright?” It was the second time today someone had asked that question. First the heartsick blonde that threw his hotel lamp at his head. Now Larry. He still wouldn’t know where to start. Something in him danced with joy. Another aspect of him was wary of this connection. What did it mean? Why did he feel like this was about to go very poorly?
His dreaming mind could stand it no longer. As if propelled from a push from some type of magic he was drawn to her like a magnet. He couldn’t have stopped his forward movement if he had even tried.
“Watch my drink.” He mumbled still moving zombie like towards her.
When he was close enough that he could reach out with his hand and brush those dark locks away from her forehead she finally looked up at him.
Her eyes were like emerald pools. A green like lush grass rolling over hills. He took a sharp intake of breath as they met his eyes. Piercing, staring into the dark empty part of his soul.
That look chilled him to the bone and at the same time his skin burst into flames.
He reached out a hand involuntarily. He didn’t know what to do, what it meant, what he had intended to do with this hand outstretched but he just needed to make contact.
She scrutinized his hand, rough with calluses. Tough from plucking out his music, her music, this beautiful creature rarely seen, on his guitar.
Then without a moment thought she took his hand and pulled him gently against her. He nearly stumbled as she did.
Then her back was against his chest. Her hips still moved in figure eights and he matched his movement to hers. They danced real slow. Almost to the point of standing still.
It was divine like sweet cherry wine.
In that moment he felt free. Free of the burden of bitter dissatisfaction he had carried for years. He took a deep shuddering breath as they danced. It was as if this was the first true deep breath he had ever taken.
The armor of his heart fell away. It made him feel naked and vulnerable.
He was scared. Then he was happy in a way he had never been.
Then like a flash from a different life hit him more powerful than he had ever felt.
A hot room. A small single bed that creaked with each movement as he drove into her. He buried his pillar of pride deep inside of her. Her eyes were glazed with the deep joy of love making. Her hand brushed his hair from his eyes but it simply fell back into place. Her skin was glossed in a sheen of sweat that he wanted to lick off. It would be sweeter than any sugar that had graced his tongue.
Her moans filled the tiny room as they rocked together beneath her cotton calico blanket. He groaned at the feel of her. He felt lonely when he pulled out and completely connected as her pushed into her.
She was the angel of small death and her cries of ecstasy filled the cabin loud enough to be heard by all the fae in the village.
He didn't care.
The forest father and the willow woman became one. The wilderness was soothed.
This was what the fae fate had in store for them.
He snapped out of it back into the present moment and shook his head. What had that been? He shook his head one more time his long hair gently caressing his face as he did. She didn’t seem to notice and he was glad of that.
When a song so slow that their dancing would have halted completely came on she turned slowly and wrapped her arms around her neck. She was unafraid of him. She was unaware of who he was. It was refreshing.
She demanded nothing of him. Simply wrapped her arms around his neck and looked deep into his eyes.
Andrew rested his hands on her waist ever so gently. Inside his mind he begged her silently to caress his face. To brush the tips of her fingers over his cheeks. To run her fingers through his tangled hair. She didn’t.
A silence stretched where one of them breathed then the other did.
Finally the angel spoke...
“My name is...”
“Madison.” He supplied before she even told him.
OoOo
Silver blood called to silver blood. Fae called to fae. She was a wingless angel of the small death. Controller of the willow tree that she so danced like.
He was the forest father. Capable of quelling any creature with his mere voice.
Over thousand of years. Over death, destruction, the fall and rise of humanity they had found each other.
They had no idea who they were. What they were. Why their blood called to each other. Why they were destined to be together.
They knew none of this. They knew not each other or the power crying within them.
When they made love or when they truly fucked the world would quake at the mere magnitude of the energy they created.
The lamps would be broken. Shattered to the floor as he drove into her over and over again. She would kick them, throw them, destroy them in her pleasure
She was his goddess unknown. She would rule him. He would dedicate his life to her. Worship at her altar.
He knew not of her power. He knew not of how she would destroy him.
She was a girl who danced away pain.
He hypnotized thousands with his voice.
They were meant for each other.
They were doomed.
Such is the fate of the Fae.
OoOo
To Fall for the Fae | 02 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 2: 1,796
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 2
The bog was cold, dark, freezing, but oh so sweet. So beautiful to be in that delicious darkness after the red hot burning of the fever.
It had swallowed him whole. Body, heart, and soul. It owned him now. Completed him. His long limbs suspended in the soft sweet feel of mud and peat.
They laid him down into the earth that had greedily accepted him, little did they know that he had not been fully dead. His heart stuck in atrophy, paused for a moment. A breath between beats. Still they had packed him into that stiff box cut from the very trees he had loved.
They’d buried him alive.
They had not cared for him to continue living in the sinful life of drink. It had been a month he’d disappeared. A month they had waited for the father of the forest to return. To quell the wildness of the forest that ever threatened to consume them.
They had been wrathful when he’d appeared half dead, wild, scared and collapsed on the steps of the porch of his cabin. He mumbled something over and over again. Unable to calm him they’d placed him in bed. Watched him suffer. Then gave him as a ritual sacrifice to the very epicenter of the wilderness to keep it calm. To keep it quiet.
No longer did they need to fear what lay in there. The beasts that the forest father had seen, had killed, had lulled with his music. They had fed him to them. It was done.
It smelled of that sharp coolness of wet earth. It could not be explained, could not be described, it simply was.
His heart began to beat slowly, reluctantly. It hurt to feel the slow drumbeat in his chest. It ached, it yearned, it wanted her.
He’d rather it’d stayed paused.
The weight of the mud pushed on the lid of his simple coffin. It threatened to submerge him. Fill his nose and lungs with it. Line his teeth and lungs with it.
It wanted to consume him.
She wanted to save him.
Yet, still he waited alone.
A fleeting thought one of the few to cross his mind in this makeshift grave.
Oh to be alone with you.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo
He’d never felt too good in crowds. They made him feel claustrophobic. Bodies pushing against him, sucking the sweet cool air from his lungs. It felt like the crowd was trying to overtake him. Consume him. There was a fleeting thought in his mind when they pressed against him. A thought like cool darkness overtaking his senses. It felt like his heart stopped as they tried to swallow him whole. It felt familiar though from when and where he didn’t know.
They played their music loud. They bayed like creatures along to it. Screaming out lyrics of hate and violence. It beat against his eardrums until he wanted to cover his ears to block out the sound.
He resisted the urge and pushed past another bar. Nameless, faceless he let his long legs lead him along the street as the man who identified himself as Larry led him to the bar.
Andrew almost turned back. Something in his conscious, his intuition told him that tonight something big would happen. He was too tired for big. Too sick of this world for his entire existence to rocked from it’s foundation.
The night crackled with electricity. It was ready. It was waiting. It wanted him.
Larry led him towards something monumental and more than once he stumbled as his feet wanted to turn and run.
Many a heart he had broken, never with clear intent to, but broken they had been none the less.
Yet, his heart remained pure. Hardened and turned black with the bitterness that consumed his soul whenever he thought of her and failed to find her. It beat on though, no cracks allowing what little light left inside of it to shine out.
It was armored. He wanted to keep it that way.
Larry approached a bar that was lightless, dark, dank. There was an air of cigarette smoke wafting from inside. The music was slow, sensual. The drumbeat matched his heart. It beat like the wings of a hummingbird.
He faltered at the entrance. The entrance to her. This bar. This bar that played the music of the winglessly winged creatures. They played the music of the Fae.
He felt powerless in that moment. There were moments when he stood on stage, his voice fiercely crying out the words to “Nina Cried Power” as the entire stage erupted in fire, where he felt invincible. Thousands of faces singing along, shouting those words, his words, her words. He conducted them but they met his music punch for punch with power. In those moments he was something else, something else.
Andrew couldn’t force his feet forward. Something was in there. Someone was in there.
For a moment his heart stopped. Just for one beat it ceased it’s movement.
“No.” He whispered under his breath. A beg. No. Don’t send me her. I am not ready yet. Not worthy yet.
His thinking mind couldn’t comprehend what was going on as he tried to force his feet into action. Into movement. Larry watched him quizzically.
Madison his subconscious cried like a battle song. It chanted her name over and over again. It could not stop.
He tried to turn on his heels and stalk back to the relative safety of his hotel room even the tiny bunks he shared with the rest of the band. Anywhere but here.
His subconscious screamed her name. Then it took it upon itself to propel his feet forward whether he wanted to go or not.
He walked woodenly into the bar his hands thrust into the pockets of his pants.
Andrew didn’t want to go. He wanted to go. He wanted to run. He wanted to tie himself to bar to keep from leaving. He didn’t want this. He needed this. He was desperate. He was desperate. He was desperate.
He took a seat at one of the few cliched stools at the bar. Ordered a whiskey, it was decent like Larry had promised, and lit a cigarette.
He drank his whiskey. He smoked. He waited.
Always he waited.
He knew better than to fuck with fate.
This was Wasteland, baby.
OoOo
He was several drinks in. Enough that he felt his world beginning to tilt. He could handle his whiskey, don’t get that wrong. Tonight though he wanted that tilt. He wanted to remove the fear he felt fluttering in his chest. Like a shrike trapped in his rib cage. Slowly eating him from the inside out. Thrusting him upon a thorn then ripping into his flesh.
His thoughts got darker the more he drank. Sometimes his best lyrics came when he was so deep into the swill that there was no pulling him out. Simply let him slowly claw his way out of the dark hole he’d dragged his limp body into.
Damn his thoughts were getting away from him.
Then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Like a bolt of lightning coming down from the sky he was struck with electricity. His body lit up like the Vegas strip. Something was happening.
He didn’t feel sober but the world stopped spinning. It was like his senses were on overdrive. Sharpened.
He fought it as long as he could though he still didn’t know why. His rational mind could not comprehend all the things rushing through him. It didn’t understand what he was. What was hidden inside of him. Those wings that never unfurled. He saw himself as ordinary. It was only through the lens of his fans did he even being to comprehend that he was complete extraordinary.
He took his drink and spun around on the stool. He was too tired to fight with himself.
His eyes dry and red from too much nicotine. Too little sleep. Too much heartache looked with laser focus for what it was his brain wanted him to see.
He scanned the bar. His eyes falling on person after person.
He focused on the makeshift dance floor that was shrouded in a cloud of smoke. His eyes glanced through the men and women dancing oh so slow and sensual on the floor.
Then his eyes fell on something. Someone. A profile of a woman. Dancing real slow, all by herself, as if passing the time until her lover found her.
His heart stopped this time for more than a moment. It jerked. Spasmed. Then stopped.
Andrew took a stuttering breath trying to restart it and slowly it did. It beat until it was matching the movement of her hips.
She danced like a bird of paradise. She moved lithely like the bough of a willow tree.
Her dark brown tresses move hypnotically as she danced. Falling over one shoulder then the next. It looked like a wave of water. Rippling darkness.
Though she moved slowly he could sense in her something wild. Something feral.
This was a woman who could not be tamed. Not by anyone.
She could be loved, oh could she be loved.
No one would ever possess her though.
He wanted to love her.
He wanted to slam her against the wall and crash his mouth onto her.
He wanted to sink his teeth into her neck, biting and sucking gently until he left a mark on her. A love bite. Something that reminded everyone that she was his.
He wanted her.
He needed her.
“Madison” he called like a prayer but the word was swallowed up by the crowd and she didn’t hear him.
OoOo
A man tall as a tree sat hunched over a glass that his shaking hands held ever so delicately. If given another moment he would drop that cool smooth glass and it would shatter to the ground. Breaking into a million pieces. It was foreboding. It was the potential of what this beautiful creature rarely seen could do to him. To his heart of darkness.
She was oblivious to his plight. Oblivious to those around her. She moved her hips in figure eights, a dance of veils from long ago that no one could remember. She danced in a way that she had never been taught. A way that drew the men in around her. They kept their distance. She gave off a vibe, a deep one, that said no one can touch me, no one can know me, no one but him.
He looked at her and knew instantly that no one fucked with his baby.
His fate was sealed.
The fate of the Fae.
OoOo
To Fall for the Fae | 09 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 9: 1,991
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. I’m getting to the smut, this story has a mind of it’s own. I’m going to stop putting language and sexual warnings for the most part. It’s rated M for a reason. Read at your own discretion. Enjoy loves.
To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 9
The funeral pyre grew. It seemed every time they came close to extinguishing the flame, there were more bodies to add to it. This fucked village remained in a standstill with the monsters in the woods as long as the Forest Father was there. ‘How long would he stay?’ was the question on everyone’s mind, as he trudged into the woods day in and day out. Often he came back out silent and covered in his own silver blood. The forest was not going to give him this win so easily, it seemed.
His arms and legs became a rainbow of stitches as Willow Woman made small dedicated Xs on each bite in every different color thread she had at her disposal. He had so many bites that they stopped counting. He’d come back from the woods, she’d sew him up, then they'd lie there wrapped in each other’s arms until night fell.
Still, the village spent every day walking on a wire. They could hear the monsters pacing at the very edge of the forest. Howling, they wanted to be released. They were hungry. Desperate for that silver blood. The Forest Father kept them at bay. They bid their time until he left. They could wait. Not patiently, but they could wait.
The Elder worried continuously. The lines in her face grew deeper and more pronounced as leaders from other villages began to bring their dead to what had become a communal funeral pyre in creaking wooden carts shiny with silver blood.
The sickly sweet smell, like rotting flowers, filled the village so often that Madison and Andrew had grown accustomed to it. As they stole among the buildings they would bring their shirts up over their nose and mouth to escape the choking smoke. At night that smell of death filled the cabin like morbid incense smoke.
He never asked for a different place to stay and no one dare off him one. Her cabin was his cabin. It was a silent agreement that all had come to terms with.
The Elder watched them grow closer and her heart ached. She was aware that she was using her daughter to keep the Forest Father anchored here in this village to protect them. The Elder however had no intention of letting her daughter become clanless. To be banned from the village, taken from her life. Not even for the Forest Father. Not even for love. Oh no, love took many a fool, but it wouldn’t take her daughter. She let them play their parts, knowing nothing about this relationship could remain permanent.
She would break their oh so sweet bubble when the time came that she needed to. Or when the Forest Father was finally successful at driving the beasts back deep into the forest where they belonged.
The beasts were like large dogs. Their fur patchy and snarled in dirty clumps. Their snouts were large and twisted, with teeth as long and thick as fingers. Their limbs twisted in painful directions always making a crunching sound when they walked. The pain of movement never kept them from chasing down any fae caught out in the open. Their eyes were pitch black, like dark pools, soulless. They glowed red in the night when they hunted those dumb enough to be caught outside the safety of a cabin. Many were run down in the night by the monsters called Cuuls. The bodies were found the next morning usually by tearful family members a few feet from their homes. It was heartbreakingly tragic to watch. There was little time to mourn. It happened so often that the villages were clamoring to establish a new type of normal during these times of terror. The villages still had to run, or they’d all be clanless soon, left to live off the land. So they cried their tears and went about their days.
The Elders of the surrounding villages met one hot afternoon after Andrew came stalking quickly from the forest yet again dripping his blood onto the grass that grew rich with lush flowers from the amount of pure fae blood spilled onto it from him. He wore another scowl and the village knew it was another failed attempt.
The other Elders railed and ranted. Why was he not doing his job? Why was he not successful?
The mother of Willow Woman waited patiently and listened to them. She knew they were desperate for results. They were scared. They stunk of their fear. She always knew this bad of a infestation would take time to tear down. Even for the Forest Father. She knew most of all that they were jealous. Jealous that he had chosen HER village to protect. That the killings had paused as long as he was there while in their own, fae were run down on a daily basis.
They finally asked the question she was dreading.
Was the Forest Father the answer or was he a sham?
She quelled their fears only barely. The Elder knew it was only a matter of time before nothing she said would calm them. Then they would say the one thing that would break her and her daughter’s heart, though for very different reasons. Her’s because she knew the killings in her village would begin again. Her daughter’s because she had fallen so desperately hard for the Forest Father. It was one simple sentence she knew was on the tip of all of their tongues.
The Forest Father should be sent away.
OoOo
Her phone chirped and she practically jumped out of her skin. They were making their way up the sidewalk wondering the city aimlessly, both so unwilling to call it a night. It was getting late, way late, later than she should be out, risking getting caught. Her mind had been so caught up in their conversation. They came so easy. He asked questions, listened, responded thoughtfully, and was always honest when she asked one of her own. She loved the feel of this. It came so...easy. They’d known each other for thousands of years. They’d loved for a good portion of those. Until they were ripped apart from each other, they had been inseparable.
It all came flooding back now as they talked and talked.
Her feet were aching in her combat boots with the golden elephants embossed on the side, as they’d been talking for several hours as they walked.
When her phone chirped it popped that little bubble she’d allowed herself to get caught up in. With trembling hands she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her black, faux leather jacket and checked it.
He watched her with trepidation as she jumped at the sound of her phone and stared down at it like it had the ability to reach out and bite her with poisoned fangs. He remembered how she had practically ran out on him the last time this had happened when they were together. He waited. Waited for her to run off like Cinderella dropping one combat boot on the pavement as she danced her way back out of his life.
...Bates is gone on business for the next 2 days. Make the most of it. You know EXACTLY what I mean...
She couldn't believe the words she was reading. She couldn’t believe the stroke of luck. Madison had been terrified of seeing The Snake’s number asking her where she was, or worse telling her he already knew where she was. Instead it was her friend giving her the green light to have a night of freedom. Or rather morning of freedom. The hands of the large analog clock on the streetlamp hanging above them read 12:30 am. They’d talked well into the morning hours. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket.
“Trouble?” The lilt of his Irish accent was beautiful and it gave her chills. She missed Ireland. There was far more open lush green space there. Less of these iron cities, erected by the humans after the age of the fae had passed. It choked her sometimes to be around this much metal and she hated it. Her body had adapted enough that it didn’t poison her to breath in the exhaust fumes from the cars or to touch the metal buildings. Still, it didn’t feel like home. Beautiful and natural in so many places. She craved it. Something wild in her broke. She almost turned to him then and asked him point blank to take her back to Ireland. She knew if she asked he’d have her at the airport in a few moments. She also knew it wasn’t possible. Madison knew what Bates would do if she ran. She knew he’d hunt them down. She also knew he’d go back on their agreement in a moment. She’d given up on having freedom a long time ago.
She was unaware she had let her left hand hang down by her side slightly swaying as an easy silence stretched between them until she felt his soft hand take it tentatively.
He knew she had every right to jerk her hand out of his grasp. It would hurt if she did. He wouldn’t stop her though.
The feel of his hand in hers. Warm, soft, solid. It set her body alight again, just that light touch. Perhaps she had given up on freedom a long time ago, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take one night to get a taste of it.
Without thinking, because if she thought about what she was going to do she would back out, she pushed him back against the brick building behind them. He looked surprised at first but a lopsided grin spread across his face. She grasped his shirt by the collar and pulled his face down to hers until she could press her lips firmly against his. The kiss was passionate but still tentative. She deepened it until they both became frenzied. He flipped their position so that he was pressing her back against the wall. He easily lifted her off the ground, wrapping his arms around her waist and pinning her against the wall. Her clit throbbed in rhythm to her heart as he pressed the fly of his jeans against the thin lace of her panties. He was definitely hard and his cock bulged against the fly of his jeans. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his fingers roamed up and down the bareness of her thighs where her dress had ridden up.
It was dangerous out here on the street. She let them kiss a little longer before breaking away from his lips with great difficulty.
“Are you going to do me out here on the street or do you have a place to go?” His grin was infectious and she smiled back. A true smile she hadn’t worn in ages.
Instead of letting her down he threw her over his shoulder in a full caveman carry. She laughed so loudly that it rang across the empty street.
He carried her like that all the way to his hotel.
OoOo
It all rested on the head of a pin.
Their fate was hanging in the balance.
She could scarcely survive their joining.
She would not survive their separation.
Winglessly winged loved hard.
Hated harder.
It was all of nothing with the fate of the fae.
They played with fire.
A willow tree of a woman.
A black thorn tree of a man.
Neither was man or woman but something of a completely different caliber.
They burned with a fever that could only be soothed with the feeling of lovemaking.
Then they would catch on fire.
The world would be set alight.
The cities would burn.
Then as the monsters once again descended.
The willow and black thorn tree would throw themselves upon the funeral pyre.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo
To Fall for the Fae | 08 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/OriginalFemale Character
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 8: 1,953
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
***Adult Language This is Rated M for a Reason***
To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 8
She hadn’t said it. She’d held the words in. It had killed her but the part of that clung to the traditions of her people wouldn’t let her.
He may be the Forest Father, that didn’t mean he had a clan.
She was daughter of the Elder. She was high born. He was of the outcasts. To love him was to throw herself from her mother and her clan. It meant turning her back on everything she ever knew. It meant becoming a traitor.
Did she love him enough to do that?
The answer was a resounding yes. Without a doubt.
Her bravery, however, faltered.
There was a breath between them. His lips were next to her ear, the long fine strands of her hair swaying slightly as his hot breath tickled her ear and sent shockwaves up and down her body. Everything was on fire with electricity. Her clit throbbed, she felt herself clench with the need to be filled by him.
He waited for her to say something. It seemed like the longest moment in his long life. His heart jerked with the pain of feeling her rejection. Still he waited desperately. The Forest Father waited for nothing; this time he did. The Willow Woman, Madison, had that much control over the fae who previously couldn’t be controlled.
When she said nothing, he pulled back from her. It was the deepest cut he’d ever experienced. Worst than any bite that had torn into his skin and ripped him open.
This was a cut that couldn’t be carefully sewn shut with turquoise thread. It was a cut to the soul that would not heal.
He drew himself back and stood to his full length. Tall like a tree. Then he turned and made his way to leave.
“Wait,” her voice was quiet. Like the whisper of the wind through a willow branch. He paused ever so slightly. His legs wanted to keep moving but he jerked them to a stop. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He knew it wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear. Still he listened.
“I...am not ready to say that. You know, I know you know, what will happen to me if I do. I need...time.” Madison stood and came to him. She let her fingers trace up his uninjured arm.
His body was alight at her touch. His lips parted in a contented sigh at her touch. He needed her. Craved her body. His cock twitched ever so slightly and he could not, though he tried, pull his body back from hers. His hands trailed up her arms. To her neck. He touched the hollow of her throat and let his fingers draw a line down her body, dissecting it in two until his finger rested over her heart.
“We can kiss and touch, lass, as much as we want. We can be with each other’s bodies. Baby, mine calls to you like it has called to no other. Love, until you can say the words, we will never be together as our souls call to each other. That is all I have to say...Madison.” Her name was like a prayer on his lips. It was on the very verge of being a beg. He righted himself and pulled away from her. It was like ripping off a piece of flesh to wrench himself away from her grasp.
He tried desperately to ignore the tears in her eyes as she watched him back away. They fell soft like petals from a cherry tree.
“Damn it, lass. Why? Why must you do this to me?” His voice rose for the first time with her but it was with frustration, not anger. He couldn’t help it. He came to her and she fell into his arms. They melded together. He kissed her cheeks, tasting the salt and kissing away her tears.
“How can I show you? How can I show you that I care for you?” She begged, the words falling like her tears.
“I don’t know. Fucking kiss me, for a start.” His voice was lilting and light. Lyrical, like when he sat on his back porch and serenaded the trees. It was a joke. She laughed.
Then she crashed her lips to his.
OoOo
She stood feeling awkward a few feet from where the meet and greet was happening. She picked at the hem of her full skirted dress with the teal color and small white flowers over orange, similar to calico blankets.
Her mind drifted to those nights. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her. He could make sheer force feel gentle as they made love and fucked and owned each other’s bodies in the night.
The sheets always got wrapped around his legs, long like a bird’s. He’d growl and tear them away so that he could be free to move again. She lost quite a few sets of sheets in those days.
Andrew always stared deep into her eyes every time their bodies were intertwined. His deep hazel eyes gazed deeply into her emerald pools. It was intense and oh so deep. In those moments she felt connected to him soul to soul.
His mouth was tender. Soft. Yet, the things he did with it were anything but soft. He devoured her. Left love marks on her neck, her breast, her thighs.
He was wild.
She fucking loved it.
She fucking loved him.
Her chest ached and it felt like the air was knocked out of her as she looked at him standing there. Towering over the women who lined up to meet the Forest Father. Who had fallen under his spell just as she had.
She hated waiting there. She should leave. She couldn’t.
Why did she have to be plagued with the memories? Why could she not be like him? Happily oblivious to all they had shared 3,000 years ago.
It was bullshit.
She fumed.
Then as the last fan wandered away, the feeling of a hug still warming her heart, he turned his million watt smile on her and she melted.
Fuck.
“You wanna get out of here? I don’t know this city but...” He started to say, coming over to her. He was wrapped in a black hoodie and he stuffed his hands into the pockets as he made his way over to her. He looked sweet, a little dorky, and utterly adorable. She was right back where she didn’t want to be. That dreaded L word hung on her lips. It rattled in her mouth. It twisted her tongue. It wanted to be let out. She cut him off.
“Do you like fish and chips?” Madison managed to get the words out without spitting the word love in the middle of the sentence.
“Love them. Is there a decent place around here to get some?” He brushed his hair back behind his ear and she wanted to run her fingers through that tangled mass of curls that was full of tangles.
“More than decent. Come on, I’ll treat you right, baby.” She made the last sentence a joke, still he lit up at the word.
She turned and began to walk away from him, but with his long legs, he was easily able to catch up.
They sauntered together down the street, both of them with their hands stuffed into their pockets, trying desperately to keep those treasonous hands from reaching out to touch the other person.
OoOo
He was lost in thought staring at her. She kept her eyes averted from him and it made him curious. Why was she so willing to spend time with him, yet seemed so icy towards him when they were alone? Oh to be alone with her. There were people in the restaurant. They might take offense if he threw her down on the table and took her there.
A piece of fish hit him squarely in the face. He pulled himself from the daydream, confused.
“You’re staring,” she pointed out, tossing another piece of fish at him.
This time he caught it and stuffed it into his mouth.
“I always stare when there’s a beautiful woman sitting across the table at me.” The charm came easy but wasn’t false. He meant it. He also wanted to see how she would react. She said nothing and turned back to her food.
He picked up a French fry and tossed it at her. A smile grew on her lips as the fry hit her in the cheek.
“I will hit you you know,” she said with mock venom. He laughed and so did she. The feeling of distance between them grew a little shorter.
“If you do, I won’t take you on the second date to the catacombs then.” He shrugged sitting back and tossed a fry into his mouth.
“That would be a tragedy. I would be an utter delight in the catacombs.” Everything she said had a laugh to it and it warmed his heart.
“Say the word and I'll have us on a flight in an hour.” He gauged her reaction. He was joking, kind of. If she said yes he’d pull his phone out and whisk her away to Paris in an instant.
“I don’t think you’re joking.”
“Does that scare you?”
“Nothing about you scares me, dahling.” She drawled the last part and he laughed. Andrew noted that she had not denied that they were on a date when he had joked about the second one. Everything he said was a test. He was trying to figure out this enigma of a woman. The only way he knew how to do that was to talk.
“I have some very scary qualities,” he replied, reaching for the darkness that was deep within him. With her there, it was like someone had turned on a nightlight in the dark room deep within him.
“I’ve seen the darkest part of your soul, baby doll. There is no part of you that scares me.” She said it deadpan and there was no joking in it. It chilled him to the bone to hear her say that. It rang true, though how she could know the deepest parts of him, he didn’t know.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” Madison asked, pushing her food away. It was mostly untouched other than the parts she had thrown at him. She felt perfectly comfortable with him but the idea of Bates knowing where and what she was doing made her stomach twist. He perked up at her words.
“I’d follow you anywhere, babe.” She knew it was true. That’s what made it so dangerous.
They both rose from the table and he directed her from the building with a hand on the small of her back. They both tingled at the mild touch.
Neither of them said anything about the familiarity, the easy use of pet names, any of it.
They were too scared to burst this small bubble of happiness, wafer thin, just waiting to be popped.
“Forest Father.” She whispered under breath as they hit the air outside. Thick with the fumes of the city. So different from the clean air they’d once breathed.
“Willow Woman.” He answered in like though he didn’t know why he said it.
They didn’t hear each other.
However, their souls did.
OoOo
Like calls to like.
Forest Father was oblivious.
Or was he?
Did that magic of the fae awaken in him once again?
Willow Woman was twisting in torment.
She could not bear the weight of her knowledge.
They were in agony.
Neither would admit it.
Such was the fate of the fae.
The Fate of the Fae | 05 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 5: 1,898
Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!
Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
****Warning!!! (Domestic Violence scene)****
The Fate of the Fae: Chapter 5
The village was in disrepair. Barely a fraction of the original population survived the attacks. Bodies laid to rest in the streets dried blood of silver flaking from them. A pyre had been erected in the middle of the makeshift cabins, once a shining accomplishment of this clan, in which to burn the bodies. There were too many to bury.
Willow woman looked horrified and tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked upon faces she had known. Cared for. Adored.
Forest father could do nothing other than open his arms and allow her to curl her body against his. The elder watched them curiously but silently. Now was not the time to bring up tradition. Now was the time for action towards the beasts that terrorized her clan.
“Enough tears Madison, we have work to do.” She snapped at her daughter. Her words were harsh but there was a tenderness in her voice. Andrew raised his head at the name. Not once had Willow woman expressed her name to him. He’d always just called her Willow. It was not uncommon for the fae to hide their names. To give your name was to give another control over your very soul. To everyone he was forest father. Madison, as he now knew, was Willow woman, and they had always referred to the revered leader of the clan simply as Elder.
He knew this was all common practice. It was safer for her name not to be known. Still he stiffened against her body as he heard it called out from her mother. She had never hid anything from him before. This name felt like an unspoken secret between them.
She felt him stiffen and pulled back to look up at him. He allowed his face to remain neutral but she still took a step back looking hurt by his indifference.
She could tell something was wrong and it hurt her that he seemed almost...angry?
Her mother called her name again and she could not deny her mother. She turned from the Forest Father and went to her mother’s side. Without a word they made their way towards the pile of wingless bodies that were slowly being thrown upon the high rising flames. Dancing fire over the dead.
The Elder turned back towards Andrew and stared him down. Almost challenging him to argue her next statement.
“You have work to do, do you not?” She snapped before turning back towards the funeral pyre for the members of her clan long passed.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair knotted with tangles and pulled at it.
Why?
Why had he pushed Willow woman away? Why had he stiffened?
It was only a name.
Oh and the way she had looked at him. Like a betrayer. Like he was the one who had held something back from her.
He had not told her his name.
Not when he’d laid her down in the field and let his hands wander idly over ever inch of her body. As the milky white flesh grew tiny goosebumps as the tips of his long thing fingers traced patterns over every inch.
When he had known her as she was. As his slightly crooked teeth had sank into her flesh ever so lightly. Careful, always careful, not to leave a mark someone could see. He’d left his mark on her though. Bruises on the outsides of her thighs from when he gripped her so tightly.
They had crossed a boundary. She could be cast out for what she’d done. He could be put to death.
They didn’t care.
He had not crossed her threshold but oh did he want to. He wanted desperately to know the warmth of her doorway.
He ached in his chest for her.
Now he had pushed her away.
He growled. A primal sound deep in his throat.
He prowled the grass a few times before glancing at the burning pile of bodies in the center of this makeshift village. Nothing in this place seemed permanent except for death. The village stank of it.
He looked for her. Willow woman or Madison, if she allowed him to call her that, was nowhere to be seen.
Another growl.
Then he stalked towards the forest.
He slipped past the tree line and accepted that he had passed the gate into the world of monsters.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo
She was laid out before him. Bare. Wearing nothing but the silky white of her skin. Budding pink stood out from her chest. The rest of her was the color of milk pale as a wedding veil.
She was his though he would never own her.
This was a creature incapable of being captured.
No, but she could be possessed.
Filled by him. Filled by his presence, his warmth, his love, and body.
She made him dizzy to simply look upon her in this form. It was almost as if he could see a silvery aura around her. Like a pair of thin wings or even the boughs of a willow trees. A simple trick of the light he pushed it away.
Her green eyes watched him curiously and she held her breath like a simple exhale would scare him away.
Nothing, nothing, could pull him away at this moment.
No he would laugh with joy when his pillar of pride sunk in.
Finally with the weight of her in his arms he would be at peace. He could feel complete finally. Not like he was searching for the other half of him somewhere out in the world. Here she was. That missing part he’d desperately looked for in every woman he’d ever bedded. This was his Wasteland, Baby.
Finally, oh finally.
He ran his rough fingers over her flesh and she shivered at his touch. He took a sharp inhale at the way he played and teased her body. She smiled a lazy half smile at him and let out a small giggle at her own reaction and he smile back. Oh it felt like it had been so long since he’d truly smiled.
He needed no help to guide his hands over each sensitive space with his tentative touch. Still, he accepted her guidance as she gripped his hands moving them where she wanted him.
He was there. Almost there. So close inside the walls of her room.
Then a look of horror passed over her face. A feeling of dread filled his body at her look. Like a piece of ice sliding down his spine he looked down at her pausing in his movements.
“Andrew?” She asked in her sweet tentative voice. The calm in her voice did not match the expression of fear on her face.
“Andrew?!” Her voice became more intense until she was practically screaming his name but not in the way he wanted her to be in that moment.
He jerked awake. Looking around bleary eyed he saw Madison’s number clutched in one hand, his phone clutched in the other. He looked around to see one of his band mates staring down at him.
“W...what?” He asked still confused. Still clutching on to the oh so pleasant dream that was quickly slipping away.
“You were sleeping like the dead.” Andrew put down the already tattered piece of paper and his phone and ran large hands down his face before shaking his head letting his dark untamed mane brush from side to side.
“Yeah. Just tired I guess. What’s up?” He ground the palms of his hands into his eyes still trying to wake up from what definitely hadn’t felt like a dream.
“Sound check started 5 minutes ago. Everyone is waiting for you.”
“Right. I'll be right there.” Andrew swiftly swung himself out of the hotel bed giving a backwards glance at the piece of paper on his nightstand before slipping into the bathroom.
Before leaving he grabbed his phone and tucked the paper into the pocket of yet another flannel shirt certain he would not leave it behind before heading out the door.
OoOo
He paced in front of her his anger red hot. She could feel it radiating off of him in waves. He’d pause for a moment, look at her, scowl and begin his pacing again. She refused to give him the satisfaction of looking scared. She would not act like the prey he so desperately wanted her to be.
Another pace. Another scowl.
“Where were you?” He growled for the third time at her.
“I was dancing.”
“Where?”
“At a bar. Your snake over there knew right where I was.” This was also the third time she had said this. The snake cast from Eden to crawl on his belly refused to confirm or deny this so still he husband to be paced.
“Who did you talk to?”
“No one. I was dancing by myself.”
“Lies. Lies and deceit!” He practically screamed at her. She tried her hardest not to flinch. He didn’t strike her. He didn’t have to. The Snake did it for him. His hand landed with expert precision across her cheek and an explosion of pain broke out in her head. She fell to her knees despite her desire not to. She could taste coppery blood and when she touched her hand to her mouth it came away slick with red like cherry wine.
“Next time tell the truth Madison.” Her betrothed said absently over his shoulder as he stormed from the room. The snake followed quick on his heels.
She spit the blood out of her mouth and took satisfaction in the way it fucked up his freshly waxed floor.
Little victories.
Next time she’d manage to stay on her feet.
She left the room then. Stalking up the stairs to her room where she in a fit of petty defiance slammed the door. She collapsed on the bed and traitorous tears began to spill down her cheeks. She wiped away at them furiously. Angry at herself for allowing that man, that thing to make her cry.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked her notifications but what she was looking for was not there. It had been dangerous and flat out stupid to give Andrew her number but she simply could not walk away from him completely. She should never havedone that. Still she kept checking her phone every few minutes as the tears slowly began to dry up.
Maybe he truly didn’t remember her. He’d pulled her name from thin air as if he had. As if he knew what had happened 3,000 years ago when the fae were still ruling this earth. Before the age of man. She had thought so much he remembered what she was to him.
She had thought he would be her savior.
But he was no savior.
She would have to save herself.
OoOo
She was trapped by iron bars that could not be seen.
He was trapped by the iron around his heart.
She pined for him.
He ached for her.
She was taken. Not by free will.
He was lost. No by choice.
He needed her.
She wanted him.
They were both lost.
But not together.
They had been found by each other.
Still they both searched for a way to be free.
Such was the fate of the fae.
OoOo