Fandom Avenue

honestly just a way to cope, it's just a drabble I shared with my friends, no real structure or nice narrative, time skips are really my thing

March 17th, 2007

there's you: a 17 year old exchange student in Royal college in London, you have two friends and roommates, Ezra, who is french, and Jen, who is Irish, it's noon, the three of you are getting drunk in the dorm you share and Jen wants to do something for St Patrick's, because she's Irish and because she was forced to also celebrate things for your traditional patriotic festivities (you're not British or Irish), Ezra and you laugh it off but Jen convinces the two of you to sober up, grab your car and drive all the way from London to Liverpool to then grab a ferry to Dublin.

almost an entire day later you arrive and in your avid need of party and celebration (also booze) you go to a few bars, Jen assures you that nobody will ask for your id because it's national day of getting drunk and you binge drink for a while.

the three of you go to a little bar on the end of a little street and get weirded out because it had like six dudes siting on a table and nothing else, the dudes notice you and let you in and they make you sit with them and then you realize it's a birthday party, and the birthday boy is just sitting there like trying to hide, you do shots with them and Ezra tries to teach the birthday boy to drink whiskey until you stop him and to avoid Ezra near the guy you sit next to him, you start small talking because that's what you do when you're drunk and you two start speaking about music, movies, the weirdness of the new decade, your backgrounds, and the fact that there's a language you know but as you were very drunk you've forgotten, he wants to smoke outside and you go with him, not because you also smoke but because you like the company, you laugh outside at the guys on the street that are also drunk and then he asks you, very very stuttery to kiss you, you accept and you make out a bit, at this moment hours had passed and Jen realises you've been awake for a full day, so she tries to sober up a little and drag Ezra and you to the car so she can drive to her cousin's house where you're gonna stay until you can drive back to London. you had the chance to say goodbye to the birthday boy, one of his friends even took a picture, but when you were on your way from Liverpool to London you realized you didn't ask for his number, and neither gave him yours.

April, 2014

there's you again: driving your car in some road in London, where you stayed, because when you were 19 you wrote a teen adult novel that sold really well and people wanted more, so you became a writer and life passed by fast, you turn on the radio and there's this show you never listen on BBC radio but for a weird impulse you don't change stations, the host of the show is introducing this new artist who had come all the way from Dublin with a hit song and a debut album coming, you listen to the voice introducing itself and involuntarily smile, because it's soft and nice and it reminds you of something, you keep listening to the interview and then the host asks him for the most random and cool thing that has happened to him before his song became a chart favourite: the guy starts laughing a little and starts telling about his seventeenth birthday party, he told how his brother made him and his friends go to a bar in the middle of Dublin and how he wasn't really enjoying it until a random trio of teens crashed at it and started lifting up the party, he told how back then he thought they were just lost because it was st Patrick's day but how by the time they were gone he was thankful because he felt better about life. you were speechless, completely astonished and out of breath, you tried to reassure yourself because of much of a fucking coincidence would that be. so you parked the car on the side of the road and took your phone out, waited for the host of the show to give out the number and then dialed it. you felt completely crazy but it was because after all those years you never stopped thinking about that tall Irish kid with the wavy hair and the glasses and the nice voice and the beautiful eyes, you couldn't believe he was now some kind of amazing singer and the odds of you finding him were quite short, but you still dialed the number. somebody picked up and the first thing you said was: i was one of the three teens that crashed Hozier's seventeenth birthday party

your call never went on the air, but by some sort of luck, they kept you until the interview was done, the person on the phone first put you with the interviewer, he asked you some details about the thing and then Hozier wanted to speak to you, he said hi, and you said hi, then you both went silent for a minute.

–my name is Andrew

—I imagined a more Irish name –you said, he chuckled

—were you listening? –he asked

—yeah, I never listen to this show but idunno, something made me keep listening

—I'm glad –he responded, you smiled widely and then you said something you didn't know how else to say

—you wanna meet up?

and he said yes, the two of you arranged a meeting, something that you didn't want to call a date, but felt like it.

you went, he asked for it to be at his own hotels bar, mostly because he didn't had much time, you arrived quite early and got a table, a few minutes later he was there, you saw him: obviously older, a little bit taller, his hair was beautifully longer, his body skinnier, his eyes were still gorgeous but wiser, he said hi and his voice was even more soothing than the last time, he sat and you smiled, he was still shy.

you started talking as if you never stopped, at some point he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo, there was you and him in the middle, he hugging your seventeen year old self with one arms, Ezra talking with his brother in the background and Jen's hand on the edge, you laughed so hard at both of your face expressions and then he invited you to one of his gigs the next day, so you could listen to his music and spend a little more time with him, as he was then headed overseas to start a tour for a few months, you said yes, you completely wanted to spend time with him, you liked him, you really did.

before you two had to say goodbye again, he told you he wanted to be with you, he asked you for a kiss and then asked you for your number, he assured you this time the goodbye was just for a few months

December, 2014

—did you miss me? –you heard a voice behind you, you turned and saw him, a little tanned but still him, after months of only speaking to him over the phone, you had him again, at least for a couple of weeks.

that time you spent almost every second together, he introduced you to his parents and his dog and his close friends, he told you about him wanting to get a place of his own and you told him about your book, you felt right next to him, you felt completely right.

May, 2019

—happy anniversary –he said, handing you a little box, you smiled at him, made him bend over a little to kiss him and opened the box, it was a ring, you looked at him and he smiled at you, nervous, anxious, happy

—honestly, took you long enough –you said, he laughed and grabbed the box to put the ring on your finger

—not so long, only five years

April, 2020

plot: readers travels back in time to the 1970s and bumps into queen in their earlier days.

wow it’s only been four days since my last update. this chapter was easier to get out. the next four (and the last four) chapters will be a bit harder so they might take a little while! somehow this is 6K words? this is a follow up chapter of roger finding the truth and a bit of fluff and fun. i hope you like it. please give me reviews they give me a will to live (and write). love you!

You and Roger sat on the train station steps, his hand engulfing yours. It was silent out, since most of the trains for the night had left, and there weren’t any more passengers here. You could hear sirens for miles probably because of what Roger had told you about, the explosion. You didn’t remember reading about that in history class but you also weren’t paying too much attention to history of London. You had been much more interested in the history of the world. You wished you had paid more attention though. Or maybe not. Maybe it was good you didn’t know about every attack, every bombing or every incident in London. Would you have tried to save lives? That was too much of a question for you to be thinking about right now, but you knew Brian would definitely disapprove. Was it so bad if you did save a couple of people though?

“So, 2019, huh?” Roger asked and you laughed.

You nodded “Yup, twenty fucking nineteen”

“That is so insane” Roger said slowly, staring off into the distance “Can you tell me what it’s like?”

“Um, well. I don’t know. Depends what you want to know” You asked.

“When do I die?” Roger asked and you glanced at him, wondering if he was serious.

“Roger….” You trailed off, looking at him disapprovingly.

“All right fine, fine. Don’t tell me. I was just kidding” Roger said and you sighed in relief.

“How do I die?” He asked after a minute and you rolled your eyes.

plot: reader travels back in time to the 1970s and bumps into queen in their earlier days.

here it is! chapter 30! it’s only 5K words, and is again fluffy. everything is building up to the end. only 3 more chapters left guys! i hope you like this part, and if you did, leave a comment or an ask! also! im publishing out of time as a full book (not as a fanfiction obviously lmao) and if you want to be informed about the pre-orders/book title/cover, sign yourself up to be on my mailing list at this link!

 https://forms.gle/UyRhwvbSnAkkGnYM7

This is only happening because of all of you guys. i love you all so much.

It had been a few days since Roger had given you the ring, but you found yourself staring at it still. You’d never worn a ring this significant before. You wondered how much it cost, and what kind of a ring it even was. You had no knowledge about stuff like that. None of your friends had gotten married yet and the first wedding you’d technically attended as an adult was John and Veronica’s.

The ring felt heavy on your finger, probably because you weren’t used to wearing one. You’d never even worn a promise ring or something, because you hadn’t ever had a boyfriend like that. The last ring you had worn was plastic and came with your barbie playset. No wonder it felt weird to wear one now.

“You’re staring at it again” You heard and you looked up to see Mary. You were in Freddie and Mary’s apartment and Roger was in the kitchen with Brian making club sandwiches. Ever since your rooftop picnic, Roger had actually started venturing into the kitchen and learnt how to make stuff. He still couldn’t boil an egg, but at least he could self-sustain.

“I’m not” You replied.

“The ring is beautiful indeed” She said, moving over to sit next to you on the couch “I’d stare at it too if I were you”

“I agree” Freddie chimed in, taking your hand and bringing it close to his face “Although personally I would have gotten something bigger. So big you couldn’t lift your hand, and had to lug it around everywhere”

“Freddie, you helped me pick that out! Don’t be an ass now!” You heard Roger yell from their kitchen. You laughed and Freddie let go of your hand.

“Whatever, darling” He said, walking away and Mary let out a laugh.

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female

Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Word: Chapter 4: 1,821

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 4

They called her the willow woman and the forest father was hopelessly heartsick for her.

As they trekked back from the forest father’s cabin to the doomed village he fell in love a little more each day. It was small things. The way her front right tooth was a little crooked but she never tried to hide it when she laughed, which to his delight was often.

Her laugh was like the tinkling sound of shells strung from his cabin roof. It rang through the clearing. He could tell from looking at the elder and the lines creased into her forehead she was losing hope. However her daughter, the willow woman, was hopelessly hopeful still. She maintained that they could save the village.

The forest father did not share her same hope but he still loved to hear her talk about the happier times her village would come to know in the future.

She believed he would save them.

He knew desperately that he was no savior.

When the elder fell asleep at night he would walk the edge of the woods with her. She was the first woman he’d known that did not jump at the sound of the baying monsters deep in those dark woods.

She closed her eyes and relished the sound.

She was wild.

And feral.

He was in love already.

It was unheard of a fae born outside of a clan being with the daughter of an elder.

It was more than unheard of it, it was forbidden.

He knew, he knew, he could not be with her.

Yet, still he'd let his fingers graze hers as they walked, talking about anything and everything. Her dreams, his music, the woods, the water, the trees, this earth that was constantly changing.

One night when he grazed her fingers with the rough tips of his calloused hand she slipped her hand into it. He was shocked and almost froze his heart beating faster than it ever had. He felt foolish in a way. The forest father, pillar of pride, falling in love. He couldn’t help it. It was a force beyond him.

He gripped her hand tighter as if he could keep her anchored to him that way. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and she did not say anything about how rough his skin was.

They did not talk then. They did not need to. They both could hear what the other’s heart was calling out.

They were in love.

They were doomed.

Such is the fate of the fae.

OoOo

When his time came they could lay him gently in the cold dark earth and he would crawl back to her. The thought came to Andrew’s mind from somewhere deep inside. He felt a connection to this woman, Madison, in a way he had never been connected to someone before.

He needed her. Every move of her body, everything she did made his heart ache. She pushed her long hair back over her shoulder and it almost looked purple in a trick of the light. It was like a punch to the stomach seeing that hair color but he couldn’t tell why.

She looked instead of amazed by his magic trick of pulling the name from thin air impressed. Like this was the response she had been hoping for.

'I’m...” He started to say just to fill in the silence that stretched long and thin between them. She eyed him suspiciously.

“Andrew.” She supplied just as he had and he shook a little. Did she actually know the name or did she recognize him?

“Do you know who I am?” He asked stupidly feeling like it was an arrogant question. It felt different though, as if he was asking her if she knew who he was from a long long time ago even though this was their first meeting.

“No...should I?” She didn’t meet her eyes when she said it. She was hiding something. He frankly didn’t care.

“No. I’m nobody.”

“Everybody is somebody.” She replied a wry smile on her face. That smile matched his. A slightly crooked front tooth. Some memory wanted to tug itself free from his mind but he wouldn’t allow it. Stay in the moment he told himself over and over again.

Her smile faltered as her phone let out a high electric chirp. She quickly pulled it out of her pocket and glanced down at the screen. A look of almost horror passed over her face and she stuffed the phone into her pocket. Scanning the crowd as if looking for someone she turned wide eyes to him.

“I’ve got to go.” She told him in a rush and started making her way through the small crowd of people still hypnotized by the music and gyrating to it’s call.

“Wait...wait please!” He shouted following her through the crowd and out onto the busy street.

“I need to be somewhere.”

“I need to talk to you. Can we exchange numbers or something?” Or anything he thought desperately. He’d gladly throw her laughing over his shoulder and carry her back to his hotel if she’d let him. He shook his head. It was another thought that felt completely foreign to him.

“I...no...I just can’t. Let me go Andrew.” He wasn’t even touching her but he could feel the weight of her words. She was telling him to back off. He respected everything about her so he did. Stopping dead in his tracks on the street he watched her as she wandered away from him. Every movement of her body moved him. When she moved he was moved. It was a desperation.

When she was a good ten feet away she stopped dead in her tracks and paused. He held his breath as she paused. He watched her pull something out of her pocket then she spun on her heels and marched towards him. She got close enough that she could grasp his shirt. She yanked and he obligingly lowered his head.

“Tell no one I gave you this.” She slipped a piece of paper into his hand. The feel of her hot breath on his ear blowing strands of hair that tickled his face made him grow hot. He wanted to turn and let their lips simply brush. A featherlight kiss as if he had never been there. Then he saw the wide eyed look she carried and he drew back. She was scared. Scared of what she’d just done.

She spun back around and stalked off down the street.

He took the time to glance down at the piece of paper tucked into his hand. Her name and a phone number were crawled in hurried handwriting. He looked up but she’d already disappeared. The smell of perfume like lilies of the valley still hung in the air.

He felt empty without her presence. He carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

“Hey, I thought you’d abandoned me for another stranger.” Larry joked coming up behind him and almost scaring the crap out of him. He refrained from jumping at the sound of his voice. Still her stared up the street as if the very weight of his stare could force her to come back.

“Any stranger, the stranger the better.” He murmured thinking of this purple haired Cinderella running off down the street at the call of her phone as if the very device owned her life.

“Ready to head back?” Larry clamped him on the shoulder. He had to lift his hand to reach his shoulder as Andrew was sprouted like a tall tree. He waited a few moments before answering still staring at the space she had occupied only moments before. He waited to see if she would return. When the silence had stretched on too long he turned to Larry.

“Yeah mate. Let’s head back.”

He couldn’t help but turn his head one last time and he could swear he saw her resting against the building, one booted foot resting against it, watching him. When he blinked though she wasn’t there.

OoOo

She watched him go until he was safely down the street. Then she turned the corner and rushed down the sidewalk.

“What took you so long?” His voice was slick like oil, the serpent long sent from Eden to terrorize her. She looked up at him, her keeper.

“I had to shake someone.” She told him as he ushered her towards the black town car waiting for her at the curb with a hand on her lower back. Frankly a little too low for her liking.

“Anyone I need to take care of?” He chewed on his toothpick and raised one questioningly eyebrow at her. A chill went through her body. She could imagine what he would do. The blade he would bury in his sternum and jerk until silver blood spilled across the sidewalk. Not Andrew, please not him.

“No I took care of it.” She hadn’t. She’d made everything worse by giving him her number. It was stupid. She couldn’t help it if she tried. When they danced, like they were standing still, like they were the only people in the room, she could feel every ounce of love she felt for him lifetimes ago. She ached for him and his absence from her now hurt like the very knife cut this snake of a man would dig into her if he found out what she’d done.

“As you say.” He mumbled climbing into the back of the car with him. She felt trapped as he closed the door and she stared out the dark tinted windows. She could see but hardly be seen.

Such was the fate of the fae.

OoOo

One winglessly winged creature trapped in the darkness of the life predestined for her drove from the sight of her love long past.

The other trudged through the streets, seeing her in every woman that danced and laughed merrily along the houses of sin he walked past.

Both held the other in their mind.

Both ached for each other.

Both felt the absence of one another in their arms, their hearts, the place they held the ultimate sensual flame.

They felt empty.

The man of the forest pulled out a lighter and lit another cigarette. In the flame he could see her and he could feel himself falling for the flame. He could hardly turn his eyes away from the burning red flame. All you ever have is your fire. Don’t tame it. Never ever tame those demons. He knew though, this feeling building inside of him, the feeling over her note burning like fire in his pocket needed to be kept on a leash.

He thought it ended when he knew love’s perfect ache.

He knew now that this feeling of emptiness would never leave.

Not until he felt the weight of her in his arms.

Her.

Madison.

Such was the fate of the fae.

A/N: ever since i wrote that little piece last time, I have had him as a dad stuck in my head. So, @hozierpicfic I am blaming you with my new obsession. *squints hard at you*

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He would be the type that would leave touring and making new music for your kids. The minute you tell him that you're expecting, he cancels all plans of traveling.

Everything.

Every music session, interview, and anything that will not let him be there is gone the minute you tell him.

Now, while I'm sure he has money put away and is able to not work for a bit, I feel like he would write songs for other artists just to keep the money coming in.

He would try to build the crib.

"Try" being the key word.

Him, John, Alex and Patrick have been in the future nursery for too long and one too many cuss words slipped out and could be heard from your spot on the couch.

He would break both the laws of physics and your actual laws driving you to the hospital when your water breaks.

Holds the baby constantly. You nearly had to pry your baby out of his arms when they first arrived.

I don't want to keep saying 'they' so I'll just write kids in here because I feel like he would be different with both.

A girl.

He was impressed by her strong lungs when she first came into the world.

"Oh it's okay. We just got to get you cleaned up and fed and warm. You'll be fine."

Softest voice ever.

Would be a carbon copy of you with his personality and little ticks of his.

When she starts babbling he follows every babble with a, "Really? I had no idea. Honey! Come listen to this!"

There would be a competition to who she walks to first.

And maybe who's name she says first.

"Sing baby, 'da da da da da'" he tries to encourage her.

Sets her down in the middle of the living room after moving the coffee table.

"Wait!" He yells as he gets up to get something from the music room. He comes back with a guitar and sits back down. "Andrew Hozier Bryne, that is cheating." You accuse him. He just smirks, "Not cheating just using any means necessary to win." You get up from your spot on the floor and come back with a cookie.

...She went for the cookie.

Also the biggest daddy's girl. When she makes a new drawing, he's the first to see and the gets the demand to show it to Mumma Raine. Even though you can't make out anything but squiggles, he still says it the prettiest thing next to her. Then after he hears you clear your throat, "Aside from your mum also, of course."

She would also say "ehm" and have his little stuttering when nervous problem.

He sits down for the tea parties.

In a little chair.

With a tiara.

And maybe a pink feather boa but there's no proof of that!

Well...you do have a couple of pictures on your phone.

She scolds him because he can't keep his pinky out.

"No, daddy." She removes his pinky herself, "Like this."

She would be very independent.

...but she always climbs in your bed at night.

"Spooky stuff, daddy." She explained when he asks her what happened.

She doesn't yell for you to stop when you kiss.

She waddles over as quick as she can with a very concerned look, "Mommy, no. Daddy said you get sick if you kiss boys on lips."

He just picks her up, "Sh sh sh. Let's go play outside."

He reads to her every night.

He climbs into her small bed and gets out one of her many books and reads the whole thing until she falls asleep.

Sometimes he sings her a lullaby on those nights when the rain is a little too loud.

He dozes off sometimes too.

Wakes up with a crick in his neck, but his baby girl sound asleep on his chest. With tiny little snores coming out of her.

He holds on to her longer first day of school. He brings her to sleep in your bed before the first day.

Makes her blueberry pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream on top in the morning before she's off. Her first time really being away from you.

Strums on the guitar while you do her hair.

When you actually arrive to school, he stops her before she runs off and crouches down to her level, "If you don't want to go, you don't have to go. We can wait until you're older and just go back home." (My dad is like this. Just thought it would fit him nicely.)

She just gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek, "They have play dough, crayons, and paint." Remembering the items that caught her eye when you came for a visit.

"We have that at home." He laughs.

"I'm fine." She assures him, "I'm a big girl now." She shows him her backpack which she insisted that mumma Raine paint. He gives her one final hug and watches her run to the toy bins.

She's a real friend to the friendless, your girl. She saw a little boy all alone in a corner playing with cars and takes a couple of blocks with her. She introduces herself and says, "I'll help you make a track. You're my friend now. Friends help friends make tracks."

Choked on his cup of tea when she came home saying she had a boy friend.

He understood as an actual boyfriend.

....she meant a friend who was a boy.

He still called the teacher about it.

She confirmed is was just a friend who was a boy.

Speaking of boys; guess who was consumed in an afternoon show of passion before you had to go pick up your girl?

You actually had a bouncing baby boy.

Looked exactly like Andrew.

But he was a mumma's boy.

He pushes Andrew's face away when he goes to give you your morning kiss.

Only let's you brush his hair.

Likes it when you give him baths.

But he does go to his dad a lot. Like doctor's appointments. Don't even say "shots" around him. Poor boy starts trembling.

Your girls just lifts up her sleeve, "Get it over with."

Andrew tries not to laugh, "Honey, be nice." He smoothes your baby boy's hair.

These kids do not know what an iPad is.

IPhone? Never heard of her.

I feel like you both wouldn't raise them on technology.

Just woods and books. Paints and legos.

Your boy is into dinosaurs. Calls them "Dinos.". He's the one who wants to go to the library to go look at the books of dinosaurs.

Your girl has an obsession with dragons. She just gets fascinated by them. How to Train your Dragon might be played twice, okay three times a day

Your girl is definitely overprotective of her brother.

Holds his hand when walking in the store.

Says "Thank you" for him when someone outside of your family does something for him.

Like the other day when you went to the bakery and the teenager who was working there gave them a free sample. He just hid behind his sister, "He says 'thank you'. He's just very shy."

The age gap would be about five years.

Then it's time for your boy to grow up with you guys.

He feels lost without his older sister. Doesn't understand why she can go and he has to stay home.

If you go on errands with him and she's at school, he finds something he thinks she'll like and hands it to you guys, "Sissy." He states.

"Honey, I don't know if she would like a bra."

He sits next to Andrew when he is playing the guitar.

Alex bought him a mini guitar and calls him 'mini Andrew'.

So what does your son do?

...he sits next to Andrew and holds the guitar, "Like you, dada!"

Andrew tries not to laugh because of how cute it is.

But now? It's his first day of school and Andrew has to soothe your nerves.

"But he's so small and shy!"

"He'll be fine."

Your son was surprisingly fine. He had grown to be not as attached as he was when he was younger.

He left your arms as soon as he saw a bucket of dinosaurs.

"He didn't even look back!" You cried when you both reach your car.

He just pulled out the tissues he knew you would need.

"We could always have another one." He said with a cheeky grin.

You smiled at him, picking at the corners your eyes, "Drive."

First one in a while. This is too long, but I regret nothing. Remember: asks are always open!!!!

Thank you all for being so patient.

Hope I did good! So nervous. I’m not trying to say that I’m an amazing writer, but I saw that you wanted one and I thought I would at least try.

———–

Was it a good I idea to try to make breakfast in bed for the sleeping giant upstairs? If you knew how to cook, it would be.

“Okay,” you state as you look at all the ingredients laid out on the counter in front of you. Andrew had gotten home from tour at around 2 in the morning and all he did was kiss you goodnight, thank you for the ‘Welcome home’ poster, pet Elwood, and go to bed, “Now, what do I do?” He always found your habit of talking to yourself quite endearing.

You get the instant pancake mix ready. Just add water was an amazing epidemic that you are eternally grateful for. After you finish mixing, you have the grand idea to multitask and try to make scrambled eggs while flipping pancakes. The eggs and pancakes were a little burned, but nothing major.

Toast! You forgot to check what setting the toaster was on and you accidentally left it in for too long because you got distracted trying to cook the sausage.

You hear footsteps coming down and you see him yawning and rubbing his eyes. His eyes widen a bit as he sees all the food and the mess you’ve made while he was asleep.

“Good morning sunshine!” You say and jump when the toast pops up, all black and charred. You knew you forgot something.

He picks up a piece of the eggs and puts on a smile because he knows you’re watching him. You added a bit too much salt, or was it the crispness of the egg that gave it that flavor?

You smile, “Any chance I can convince you to go back to bed so that I can put this on a tray and take it to you?”

“No.” He states a bit too suddenly, then he clears his throat, “I mean-I was really looking forward to coming home and making you breakfast.” He glances at the food you have ready, “Seems like you beat me to it.”

“Aww.” You wave your spatula at him, “That sweet. But I really wanted to surprise you with breakfast. You’ve have to be exhausted from the touring.”

“I’m not that exhausted.” He says while crossing over in the kitchen to where you’re by the stove. He wraps his arms around you and he reaches in the back to untie your apron, “Let me make breakfast for you. Please?” He adds his puppy dog eyes that he learned from Elwood.

You push him back a little, “I can’t think with you close.” He adds his bottom lip to the combo and you give in, “Fine.”

He smiles and gives you a kiss on your forehead, “Your food tasted terrible, darling.” He states while putting on the apron.

“It doesn’t.” You say in mock offense. You take a bite of the eggs and he raises his eyebrow. It was terrible, but you don’t want to let him know, “It’s amazing. Ruth would appreciate it.”

You three had this running joke on Ruth, his old photographer, was your soulmate.

“I would have had to find a replacement for her faster if she did eat your cooking.” He says while cracking eggs into a bowl.

You start to clean the counters, bumping into his hip. When you’re done, you sit on the counter while he’s finishing up some pancakes for you and makes himself oatmeal.

He’s waiting for the water to boil so that he can put the oats in. He stands inbetween your legs while you snack on the strawberries he trusted you to cut up. He takes one from you as you’re about to put it into your mouth.

“Strawberry stealer.” You state while getting another one. He places his hands on the counter besides your hips and he leans down to give you a kiss and you pull away, “I don’t kiss strawberry stealers.” You joke with him, while trying to sound completely serious.

He let’s out a chuckle, “What if they’re caring husbands?”

You smile at that. He’s right. Before he went on tour, he had asked you. When he came home on a break, you both had just gone to the courthouse. You didn’t want a wedding. You both were too awkward for that. So you both just went to the courthouse, got married and had a very small gathering at his parent’s house. Then you both flew back to your home to celebrate with your parents and close friends. You had both been keeping it a secret for a while. When you joined him on tour for a bit, he wore his ring on his right hand while you wore yours around your neck.

“Well they can’t be too caring if they steal their wife’s strawberries.” You state.

He smiled at that. He knew he had to put a ring on you when you first told him that you weren’t going any further in a relationship without the promise of a ring or marriage. Marriage scared the hell out of him, but you made him feel so comfortable with it.

Foregoing your statement, he leans in a kisses you. He feels you smile in it and is able to taste the strawberries you ate. Once, twice, three times he pulls away with small peck.

“You’ve got to unpack.” You whisper and he feels your breath on his lips.

He groans, “That was such a nice moment, you had to ruin it with the talk of chores?”

“We also have to wash dishes.” You say while wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. This domestic bliss between both of you, it was something fleeting and you couldn’t get enough of it. The feel that he’s yours, that he chose you, not just as his wife. But as the women who he wanted to walk alongside for the rest of his life. That he was bound to you legally. That he chose you as his partner. It was beautiful.

He pulls his phone out of his pajama pants and connects it to a speaker you both keep in the kitchen. You heard the blues tones coming through it.

Andrew grabs your hands and moves to bring you off of the counter. He puts your arms around his neck and then puts his hands on your waist, “We never got out first dance.” He says as you both slowly sway to the music, “We got our rings, said our vows to each other, got our licence. But no dance.”

“That’s a true shame if I ever heard one.” You joke.

“A true shame indeed, my love.”

He rest your head on his chest and close your eyes as his heart beat slowly lulls you, relaxing your mind. He’s too tall for his own good. He bends down a but and rests his cheek on the top of your head.

“The water is going to boil over.” You tell him after a bit.

“Let it. I have my wife back in my arms after 3 months apart.”

You chuckle at his response.

Your domestic bliss. He came home.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you paid very little attention to your surroundings as you got up and slid into your new fluffy winter slippers. Yawning loudly, you brushed your hair from your face and slowly padded to the bathroom, your eyes opened only a smidge as you navigated your way almost blindly.

But when you safely (that is, if you don’t count the stubbed toe you hit against the bathroom cabinet, which caused a few swear words fall from your lips) returned and plopped yourself down on the bed, you rolled over and realised that the welcoming heat of Gwil’s chest that you had expected to find and curl into was not there to envelope you.

Blinking the sleep away, you looked around the room submerged in darkness, but your boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

With a confused frown, you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and started to explore other rooms in your shared flat.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, your voice creaking a bit from the sleep, as you entered Gwil’s office where you found him staring into his laptop and scrolling through some webpage. “What you’re doing? It’s one a.m.” Your gaze flicked to an old wall clock hung on the opposite end of the room to confirm your statement.

“Sorry, love. Just finishing some business.” He pulled down his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut.

You ventured further into the room until you stood right behind him. Snaking your hands down his chest, you bent down and hugged him from behind, consequently putting the warm duvet over him.

“Can I help?” you asked as you tried to decipher what he was working on, your eyes having troubles to get accustomed to the light emitting from the laptop.

“No, no!” he hastily opened his eyes again and, seizing the mouse, clicked on the short line in the top right corner of his screen to minimise the browser window, not allowing you to see what he’d been up to.

“Okay,” you said warily, surprised by the sudden reaction. But it was too late to get preoccupied with his odd behaviour and it soon was forgotten. “I can’t believe you set this image as your desktop background,” you chuckled lightly into his ear and changed the topic.

It was a picture of you two taken two winters back. You remembered the day very well because it was your first official date after many years of you and Gwilym being good friends. To keep yourself entertained while you’d been stuck in a long queue for some sweets at a Christmas market, Gwilym pulled out his phone and proceeded to take at least a dozen selfies of you two. This particular one showed your faces pressed together, with Gwil’s nose red from the cold and probably the mulled wine you’d been drinking before, your eyes sparkling with glee and your wide grin matching his. It wasn’t the most aesthetic picture of you two, there were better, but the joy was apparent.

“Of course, I did!” Gwil answered in a mock offence and smiled as he looked at the picture. “I was the luckiest man on earth that day,” he continued in a more serious and honest tone.

“So was I,” you whispered and pressed a gentle kiss against the side of his neck.

Gwil turned in your embrace to face you and captured your lips in his, the sweet taste of sugar on his tongue raising the corner of your lips in amusement.

“And still am,” you admitted truthfully between the kisses.

“Me too,” he agreed and gently cupped your cheeks as he stared into your eyes, the love he felt for you written on his face.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” you said as you drew yourself up and stretched your hand for him to take.

Gwilym accepted your offered hand and stood up, immediately wrapping his arm around you and pressing you to his side as you began to shuffle to the bedroom.

The gift he was looking for could wait for him till tomorrow. And it was a present he couldn’t wait to give to you on Christmas day just as much as the question he was going to ask you, the question that would truly make him the luckiest man in the whole universe.

__________

TAGLIST: @lv7867, @spacedustmazzello

so this has been sitting in my inbox for ages and i’m so sorry sweetheart! Hopefully this might make up for the wait.

Our boy is a sleepy lad. He does not get enough sleep, like, at all. Call it the symptoms of an active, imaginative mind. 

He’ll frequently wake up to write down whatever his dreams have given him or record some melody he’s snatched from his mind, even if it’s just the Backstreet Boys. However, if he’s not sleeping alone, he’ll be so very careful when untangling himself and taking his recording out of the room, as not to disturb you.

Sleeping alone, our boy’s a long boy (I mean, I literally can’t get over how tall he is and my brothers are between 6″2 to 6″6). So when he gets the chance, he’s all stretched out and blissful. In winter I like to think he piles on the weighted blankets and layers.

I also think his bed is covered, covered, in random stuff; his laptop from whatever he was maybe recording before bed, books he’d been reading and never finished before he fell asleep, hot water bottles long since cold.

Not really a fan of making his bed and if he attempts, he turns down the duvet as he likes the cold sheet.

Now, I think we all remember when Hozier said he didn’t have anybody to curl up to, which I think might be pretty telling of how he sleeps with someone.

Sleeping with you, I believe whole-heartedly, he is a hardcore cuddler. So his love language is touch and that informs the way he sleeps alongside you.

You’re having a long conversation as you go about preparing for sleep. You get into bed, still talking and automatically he just gathers you tight against his chest. His arms are around you and his hands are playing with yours as you chat until you fall asleep that way.

If you’re smaller than him, he will curl around you as much as he can, winding his fingers around yours, sliding a hand up your top. Not sexually (well, not usually) he just likes skin-on-skin contact, makes him feel easier.

Sometimes he loves it when you fall asleep facing each other, loosely tied together because he loves your sleeping face, even if you don’t. It makes him feel good to know you trust him enough to fall asleep in front of him.

When you’ve had a fight that seems to be lasting, you’ll sleep back to back although often he’ll very slowly shuffle until your backs are touching. Just enough touch for him to be reassured but not enough to invade space.

Often however, especially if he’s feeling even the tiniest bit down, he’s the one who wants to be curled around. He just loves you plastered around him, holding as tight as you can, chest to back and arms clutching him. It’ll relax in the night but so long as you’re holding him, he feels safe and loved.

If it’s too hot, hands are still being held across the bed or someone’s laying diagonally spread out, head on a shoulder. 

I gotta stop before I make myself cry, imagining all of these. Hope this helps!

Plot: You’re sort of going out with Andrew but you’re not sure what’s happening.

Word Count: ~1.9k

You met Andrew after one of his shows at a hole in the wall kind of bar near the theater he’d just performed at. He’d sat next to you and asked if he could buy you a drink. Not used to receiving attention from men you actually found attractive, you were pleasantly surprised that not only was his approach very polite, but he could hold a pretty good conversation. You exchanged numbers and began calling and texting each other regularly. Sometimes the conversations grew flirtatious, but the two of you mostly focused on building a solid friendship for the first few months you’d known each other.

The thing you loved the most about Andrew is that you always felt safe with him. There was just such a comforting quality in his existence. His physical presence was so familiar. He felt like home. You loved being around him from the moment you met him. You were ecstatic when he shyly asked for your number at the end of the night because you weren’t sure if you had the nerve to ask for his. Being with Andrew unlocked a piece of you that you didn’t know existed, a piece of you that you needed.

Most of your dinner nights were unmistakably platonic. You two had gone out a few times when he was in town for a tour or “other work engagements.” He never specified exactly what brought him to you, but given that he usually wrote his music alone, you had a feeling he really just came to see you. Whenever he was in town, he stayed in a hotel, so you drove the two of you to various restaurants that you’d picked out. He always paid for the meals without question, which you figured was just him returning the favor for giving him a ride.

request: Could I request Paul x reader? Something that’s just pure fluff? Maybe he could be playing the piano and the reader sits with him and puts her arms around him or her head on his shoulder.. idk but its an idea // Paul x reader marriage proposal? Paul proposes just randomly, like there isn’t a big gesture but it happens during a sweet moment and it’s just really cute and a lot of fluff a/n: bro i just came from playing piano lol pairing: paul x reader summary: fluffy marriage proposal warnings: nothing! fluff year: 1969 cause i need McBeardy rn word count: 468

 made one of these a long time ago but i’m surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol. 

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you. 

masterlist

series masterlist

Paring: Smile!Era Roger x Reader

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Drinking, implications of sex

Word Count: 11.1K (Go big or go home!)

Summary: Being an art student at Ealing College may not afford the greatest career opportunities going forwards, but it does make encounters with a certain rock band touring Kensington’s most notorious pubs a lot more likely.

Chapter Summary: Two weeks after the party, Reader finds herself avoiding Roger, despite Freddie’s warnings. Nonetheless, after a drunken phone call, she finds herself back at the Stanhope Arms, where it all began. 

N.B: This is it! The final chapter of the series! Everything’s been building up to this chapter, and I hope it’s worth it. Thank you to everyone who’s been giving me support and feedback through this series, especially @rogerrmeddowsstaylorr who inspired it, and who’s been helping to keep me inspired. Seriously, without Sab I either never would have started The Art She Loved, or I would have given up on it a long time ago. Without further ado, TASL 11…

No beta, we die like men.

When I woke, it was to a lethally dry mouth and the distinctly sharp remnants of vodka in my mouth. For a few moments as I blinked away sleep, I felt almost normal, save for the fact that I wasn’t in my room, and this wasn’t my duvet tucked up under my chin.

A gentle snore from the floor nearby drew my attention, and I peeked down to see Roger, dressed only in pyjama pants and a bedsheet that was tangled around his legs, sprawled out among the pillows he’d dropped for himself last night. Tangled blond hair fell back from his face onto the pillow like the unkempt halo of a (likely fallen) Angel. His mouth hung open a little, and as I watched him, he snored again.

I eased myself into a sitting position, and immediately wished I’d stayed down. With the shift in balance, my stomach started to churn, and my head virtually screamed in protest. God, water. I needed water so desperately.

Thankfully, Roger had gotten me a glass from the kitchen last night, but as I reached to take it, I paused, my hand hovering over it. Roger had grabbed me this after he’d put me to bed, after I’d tried to kiss him. Oh God, I’d tried to kiss him.

His face swum in front of me for a moment, hazy and out of focus. I saw his lips purse, saw the crease between his brows where they pulled together in a disdainful frown. He didn’t say ‘no’, but he didn’t have to. Freddie had been wrong, I’d been wrong, we’d both completely mis-read things. Somewhere during this week, something must have changed. Maybe Roger had finally gotten tired of all those barely-there moments, and he wanted something more substantial? Perhaps he’d just lost interest.

Either way, I couldn’t stay in the room with him, not when every soft, breathy snore made me wince. So instead of reaching for the water, I stood up slowly, taking my time and resisting the urge to groan when I felt the sweep of nausea in my stomach. God, I felt awful.

I found my shoes not far from Roger’s head, and picked them up before sneaking out quietly, pulling the door closed behind me with a quiet ‘click’. Annette was curled up on the loveseat, blankets pulled around her chin, while Brian was snoring on the sofa. He was so tall that one leg was hooked over the arm of the sofa, while the other dangled onto the floor in a way that would ache when he woke up. The sound of me creeping around drew the attention of the only other person in the flat who was awake - Freddie, who poked his head out of the kitchen expectantly.

“Good morning, lovie.” He said brightly. “I’m making toast, do you want some?”

“You,” I hissed, leaving my shoes by Roger’s door and stalking over to Freddie, who’s eyes had widened at the sight of my expression. “We need to talk.”

masterlist

series masterlist

Paring: Smile!Era Roger x Reader

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Drinking, implications of sex

Word Count: 11.1K (Go big or go home!)

Summary: Being an art student at Ealing College may not afford the greatest career opportunities going forwards, but it does make encounters with a certain rock band touring Kensington’s most notorious pubs a lot more likely.

Chapter Summary: Two weeks after the party, Reader finds herself avoiding Roger, despite Freddie’s warnings. Nonetheless, after a drunken phone call, she finds herself back at the Stanhope Arms, where it all began. 

N.B: This is it! The final chapter of the series! Everything’s been building up to this chapter, and I hope it’s worth it. Thank you to everyone who’s been giving me support and feedback through this series, especially @rogerrmeddowsstaylorr who inspired it, and who’s been helping to keep me inspired. Seriously, without Sab I either never would have started The Art She Loved, or I would have given up on it a long time ago. Without further ado, TASL 11…

No beta, we die like men.

When I woke, it was to a lethally dry mouth and the distinctly sharp remnants of vodka in my mouth. For a few moments as I blinked away sleep, I felt almost normal, save for the fact that I wasn’t in my room, and this wasn’t my duvet tucked up under my chin.

A gentle snore from the floor nearby drew my attention, and I peeked down to see Roger, dressed only in pyjama pants and a bedsheet that was tangled around his legs, sprawled out among the pillows he’d dropped for himself last night. Tangled blond hair fell back from his face onto the pillow like the unkempt halo of a (likely fallen) Angel. His mouth hung open a little, and as I watched him, he snored again.

I eased myself into a sitting position, and immediately wished I’d stayed down. With the shift in balance, my stomach started to churn, and my head virtually screamed in protest. God, water. I needed water so desperately.

Thankfully, Roger had gotten me a glass from the kitchen last night, but as I reached to take it, I paused, my hand hovering over it. Roger had grabbed me this after he’d put me to bed, after I’d tried to kiss him. Oh God, I’d tried to kiss him.

His face swum in front of me for a moment, hazy and out of focus. I saw his lips purse, saw the crease between his brows where they pulled together in a disdainful frown. He didn’t say ‘no’, but he didn’t have to. Freddie had been wrong, I’d been wrong, we’d both completely mis-read things. Somewhere during this week, something must have changed. Maybe Roger had finally gotten tired of all those barely-there moments, and he wanted something more substantial? Perhaps he’d just lost interest.

Either way, I couldn’t stay in the room with him, not when every soft, breathy snore made me wince. So instead of reaching for the water, I stood up slowly, taking my time and resisting the urge to groan when I felt the sweep of nausea in my stomach. God, I felt awful.

I found my shoes not far from Roger’s head, and picked them up before sneaking out quietly, pulling the door closed behind me with a quiet ‘click’. Annette was curled up on the loveseat, blankets pulled around her chin, while Brian was snoring on the sofa. He was so tall that one leg was hooked over the arm of the sofa, while the other dangled onto the floor in a way that would ache when he woke up. The sound of me creeping around drew the attention of the only other person in the flat who was awake - Freddie, who poked his head out of the kitchen expectantly.

“Good morning, lovie.” He said brightly. “I’m making toast, do you want some?”

“You,” I hissed, leaving my shoes by Roger’s door and stalking over to Freddie, who’s eyes had widened at the sight of my expression. “We need to talk.”

masterlist

series masterlist

Paring: Smile!Era Roger x Reader

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Drinking, implications of sex

Word Count: 11.1K (Go big or go home!)

Summary: Being an art student at Ealing College may not afford the greatest career opportunities going forwards, but it does make encounters with a certain rock band touring Kensington’s most notorious pubs a lot more likely.

Chapter Summary: Two weeks after the party, Reader finds herself avoiding Roger, despite Freddie’s warnings. Nonetheless, after a drunken phone call, she finds herself back at the Stanhope Arms, where it all began. 

N.B: This is it! The final chapter of the series! Everything’s been building up to this chapter, and I hope it’s worth it. Thank you to everyone who’s been giving me support and feedback through this series, especially @rogerrmeddowsstaylorr who inspired it, and who’s been helping to keep me inspired. Seriously, without Sab I either never would have started The Art She Loved, or I would have given up on it a long time ago. Without further ado, TASL 11…

No beta, we die like men.

When I woke, it was to a lethally dry mouth and the distinctly sharp remnants of vodka in my mouth. For a few moments as I blinked away sleep, I felt almost normal, save for the fact that I wasn’t in my room, and this wasn’t my duvet tucked up under my chin.

A gentle snore from the floor nearby drew my attention, and I peeked down to see Roger, dressed only in pyjama pants and a bedsheet that was tangled around his legs, sprawled out among the pillows he’d dropped for himself last night. Tangled blond hair fell back from his face onto the pillow like the unkempt halo of a (likely fallen) Angel. His mouth hung open a little, and as I watched him, he snored again.

I eased myself into a sitting position, and immediately wished I’d stayed down. With the shift in balance, my stomach started to churn, and my head virtually screamed in protest. God, water. I needed water so desperately.

Thankfully, Roger had gotten me a glass from the kitchen last night, but as I reached to take it, I paused, my hand hovering over it. Roger had grabbed me this after he’d put me to bed, after I’d tried to kiss him. Oh God, I’d tried to kiss him.

His face swum in front of me for a moment, hazy and out of focus. I saw his lips purse, saw the crease between his brows where they pulled together in a disdainful frown. He didn’t say ‘no’, but he didn’t have to. Freddie had been wrong, I’d been wrong, we’d both completely mis-read things. Somewhere during this week, something must have changed. Maybe Roger had finally gotten tired of all those barely-there moments, and he wanted something more substantial? Perhaps he’d just lost interest.

Either way, I couldn’t stay in the room with him, not when every soft, breathy snore made me wince. So instead of reaching for the water, I stood up slowly, taking my time and resisting the urge to groan when I felt the sweep of nausea in my stomach. God, I felt awful.

I found my shoes not far from Roger’s head, and picked them up before sneaking out quietly, pulling the door closed behind me with a quiet ‘click’. Annette was curled up on the loveseat, blankets pulled around her chin, while Brian was snoring on the sofa. He was so tall that one leg was hooked over the arm of the sofa, while the other dangled onto the floor in a way that would ache when he woke up. The sound of me creeping around drew the attention of the only other person in the flat who was awake - Freddie, who poked his head out of the kitchen expectantly.

“Good morning, lovie.” He said brightly. “I’m making toast, do you want some?”

“You,” I hissed, leaving my shoes by Roger’s door and stalking over to Freddie, who’s eyes had widened at the sight of my expression. “We need to talk.”