To Fall for the Fae | 01 (M)
Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female
Genre: Fanstasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst
Words: Chapter 1: 1,774
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 use 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 this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story should be well over 50,000 words. Enjoy.
To Fall for the Fae
The death had not been simple. It had not been easy. It had not been painless.
He spent his last days wrapped in sweat soaked clothes. Flushed with a fever slowly ravishing his tall lithe body like a tree dying from rot. They could do nothing more than wait for the merciful inevitable end.
It was not a quiet death. He ranted, he raved, he howled like a feral wounded beast. Then there were times when he sang. He sang the sad sweet music he used to before the draw of sin consumed him. Back when his nimble fingers would pick out slow sensual chords that matched his words that could be harsh one moment then kind the next. He would spend his days serenading the empty air. The trees his only audience, his only love.
He cried out a name, begging for her. A woman. They had never heard him speak this name before. It left them no idea where to begin to search for her. Still in his delirium he begged for her. Offering his soul for the very chance to feel her cool hand brushing his wet hair limp with sweat from his brow.
His death had not been simple. His funeral had.
A pine box. A trip deep into the bog. The wet mud sucking at their shoes. Trying desperately to drag them down along with him. It was Andrew alone destined to become one with the place he had loved most. He was the only one that wet ground would accept. It longed for him.
They laid him down softly in the cold dark earth as the bog took no time to swallow him whole.
They were still left with the ringing of that name in their ears as they trudged away from his final resting place. Perhaps now in death his soul would find a way to crawl back to her.
They could hear her name even now. It ate away at their souls. The plants whispered his forgotten love’s name.
He died alone but not lonely.
Such is the fate of the fae.
Yet as they headed back home to the warmth of their houses they could her his lyrical voice calling one last time.
One word only.
That damnable name.
He whispered it.
“Madison”
OoOo
He rolled off her neither tired nor satisfied. She moaned. Her eyes still rolling into the back of her head as the le petit mort consumed her.
She had taken him to church of that there was no doubt. Still with the sedating buzz of the deathless death he felt hollow inside.
Dissatisfied.
She was a lovely girl. A classic beauty like a heroine from an old black and white flick.
She was everything a man could love.
However, he liked them wild. Untamed, With a soul like a bird that could never be caged.
He could see her then in his mind. Eyes like emerald pools. Reminding him of the rolling hills of Ireland. Of a life clinging to his mind even though he had been far from it for too long.
Her hair was long. Falling to below her waist in dark locks. The strands would be baby fine so he could run his fingers through them for days.
Her nails...her nails he could almost feel grazing his scalp as she’d try fruitlessly to finger comb the tangles from his hair.
Dark brown most times his hair with a trick of the light would turn to a shade like copper fire in the sun.
He could never see her full on. Just a profile. Her individual features. Then she would turn from him and walk out of his mind.
Her name would be on his lips. Whispered under his breath like a prayer to a deity that he didn’t believe in.
“Madison”
He saw her like this only after that sweet release. Perhaps that was why he tried desperately to find her in the women he bedded. He did it rarely. Never cheap. Never fake. For those moments he loved them. The weight of them in the arms he never used to hold her.
He was not loose nor did he consider these women to be either. There was romance always. Seduction. A fondness that could be mistaken for love. Instead he always felt restless. They weren’t her. They never were.
“Is everything alright?” She asks. He looked at her then through the flame of his lighter as the tip of his cigarette began to glow red.
For a moment this beautiful lass, her eyes dancing in the flames, could be her. Just for a moment.
Madisonhis subconscious mind whispered.
I wouldn’t know where to start. his conscious mind thought.
“Yes baby, of course.” He leaned over then and kissed her on the light flesh of her shoulder that peeked out from beneath the crisp white hotel sheets.
He pushed her from his mind and that was that.
OoOo
His fingers picked out the notes bit by bit.
It was 5 am and the city below him glowed on like a town on fire. Everyone was asleep but still those lights burned out the very glow of the stars above. Artificial blocked out the natural beauty. That’s the way of humans though wasn’t it?
The way of love too. You could fuck and mask it as making love all you wanted. Still she had groaned out “Baby...baby...baby” the whole time. As if she couldn’t even remember his name. It would have only been worse if she’d screamed “Hozier!” at that final peak of orgasm.
He’d convinced himself it was real, yet here he was bitter and unhappy on the roof of the hotel, guitar in hand, trying to get two women out of his mind. One a fantasy that would haunt him until the grave. The other asleep in his temporary bed, in this temporary home, in a city that would one day be swallowed back up by the earth. Then only then would nature have won over the fake. Perhaps if he was swallowed by the earth once again he would be free too. Free of her.
He always felt this way after. Always. It felt so good. That romance that seduction beforehand. Hands grazing each other across the table. Crooked smiles exchanged. Words, oh how the words wooed him.
Then the way they would kiss the skin that groaned from him. Play his body as expertly as he played the guitar. It felt good. It felt real.
After though he was bitter. Restless, dissatisfied, angry with himself.
Another girl. Another broken heart. Another attempt to get her out of his head. He could hardly stand it some times.
He allowed for just a moment his mind to drift to her and the words came easy. They always flowed from him like a language of babble spoken in tongues when he thought of her.
His fingers moved over the strings and he parted his lips letting the words slip from his mouth softly.
“Wasteland Baby...I’m in love...I’m in love with you...”
OoOo
“Love with every stranger, the stranger the better eh?” One of the roadies joked as Andrew descended the front steps of the hotel alone. Oh to be alone with you his thinking mind thought as his subconscious mind called her name.
Always, always searching for her. Never satisfied by the absence of her. It called out to her as if it could simply call her to him. It had been calling to her for 29 years and had yet to deliver.
He tried to not think about her by choice. Still the part of his subconscious that he had utterly no control of constantly called to her. Nonstop. Every moment. Every day.
Until he felt like his sanity was leaving him. The only time he felt sane was when he wrote his music. It was actually her music.
She was the muse that sent him the words. No true artist can create without a little tragedy. A little torture. A lot of torment.
“I know her middle name. Mother’s maiden name. Every school she went to plus the list of every pet she’s had over her lifetime. She was hardly a stranger.” Though now she feels like one he thought of their parting.
The throwing of things. The shattered lamp he’d have to pay for. He didn’t care about the cost. He simply felt if a lamp was going to be broken in one of his hotel rooms he'd rather it be in the middle of passion.
Slamming her back against the wall until the plaster cracked and rained down on them. Her foot as he slid inside twisting out in a spasm of pleasure knocking the cheap light fixture to the ground where it would shatter. A wave of moans creating a symphony soundtrack to the ripples of pure ecstasy flowing through them.
If he was with her that’s what it would be like.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to imply...” Andrew clasped the roadie on the back and offered him a wane smile.
“Don’t worry about it.” He was trying to prove more to himself than anyone else that it hadn’t been a meaningless pursuit to clear his head once again.
He ran a hand down his face and sighed.
“I think I could use a strong drink.” Andrew smiled at the thought of the cool liquid burning a hot path down his throat. He ran a finger through his tangled hair and looked quizzically at the guy.
“I know a bar a few blocks away. I don’t think anyone would recognize you there. Decent whiskey.” The guy shrugged apologetically at the last part.
“Tonight I’ll take decent over nothing.” They exchanged a knowing smile that imparted that silent unintelligible “guy” language that women would forever cease to understand.
He shrugged himself deeper into his denim jacket as they left the scene of that hotel with the room forever damned by the smell of sex with another woman that he was never meant to be with.
OoOo
A man like a tall tree stalked a path down the cool night streets of a city he only vaguely knew. His feet dragged. He was dead tired not from sleeplessness. No he dreamed of her every night. That alone lulled him happily to sleep. Instead it was the weariness of the day. The pain of facing the world alone in sea of adoring faces.
To be alone was the fate of the Fae. That is...until their path crosses with another of the winglessly winged figures...
