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seiwas · 4 months ago

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andie you have made me yearn for this man with a want so deeply rooted into my being 🥲😭🥲

i maxxed the tags but just wanted to add this one more thing — that he is soooo acts of service here its driving me insane. to be loved is to be known, that saying 🥲 my chest ached at the bookstore, at when he said that everything that’s his is rdr’s oh my goooood literally HOW TO GET A HE. HOW TO GET A HE i’m losing it. thank u for writing this I SWEAR

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

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marcogiovenale · 8 months ago

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oggi, 4 maggio, a roma, all'ex mattatoio: "sintropie. mondo e mondo nuovo"

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#Alexandro Sabetti #Andy De Paoli #Ex Mattatoio #Federico Raponi #Gabriele Germani #Gaza #Gaza conflitto interiore #Il profeta velato #Kulturjam Edizioni #Largo Dino Frisullo #Latte bookstore #Multipopolare #Palestina #presentazione #Raul Mordenti #Samir Al Qaryouti #Sira F. De vanna #The Kintsugi Jar

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redstringraven · 1 year ago

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alright, so after a thorough replay of the space-arc and a slightly less thorough comb of the invasion-arc here're some loose observations and thoughts regarding triceraton tattoos. i'm not touching triceratons featured in fast forward because... i don't have interest in that fjkldjks. my apologies.

this is mostly for myself, but you're of course more than welcome to use it as a resource, reference, whatever tickles your fancy. if i missed something, feel free to tell me!

there does seem to be some pattern with rank, so i'm gonna start with "low-rank" and make my way up the ladder.

citizens

we don't get to see a lot of triceraton citizens, and basically all of them are background fodder save for zed and raz (the games commentators). from what i can tell, none of them have tattoos on neither their eyes nor their arms--on the ones with bare arms, anyway. it's probably safe to assume they don't have them on their chests because those seem all-star specific.

rebellion

this is where the tattoo thing gets a bit weird--as in, i don't know if they're actually facepaint that can be removed, or if these are all citizens or green soldiers who've not earned their military tattoo yet. traximus still has his tattoo, but none of his rebellion soldiers have the ones we'll later see on every soldier as well as prison guards. it's definitely possible citizens joined the rebellion, but trax had also mentioned in the arena that he still had friends in the ranks. are they not there? did they remove their tattoos? am i over-analyzing a cartoon beyond what the creators considered? (it's that one).

you can click on the screenshot to make it a little bigger but the bottom-left shot shows an actual solder beside a rebellion soldier, the former's tattoo is barely visible but there. their concept art doesn't have a tattoo, and i didn't see any in-show who had one... but, i did more skim through the invasion-arc, so it's possible i missed one. lemmie know if i'm wrong.

prison guards

all prison guards seem to have a single, thick red-line tattoo over their right eye. the ends point toward the backs of their heads. not much to talk about here. the two in the second-to-bottom-left screenshot are missing theirs, but i'm going to assume this is an animation error.

--also, sidebar, i don't think the blue ""tattoos"" prisoners have are remotely the same type of thing, so i don't think that'd apply to my confusion over none of the rebellion soldiers having tattoos.

soldiers

here's once again where the definition of 'tattoo' gets a little blurry, because if tattoos are a sign of rank and then your rank changes... what do. maybe since triceratons already have advanced technology--and tough skin--they have... a solid form of tattoo removal. again, though, i don't think their tattoos are the same as the ""tattoos"" prisoners receive, so i doubt they'd just peel off?? if that were possible, you'd also think they would have removed traximus's tattoo after he was thrown into the games as another way to shame/derank him, too.

so, your basic and most common soldier seems to have two narrow maroon lines over their right eye. the ends do not point in any direction, they're just lines. they're thin enough that they can be very hard to see if the camera's at a distance, but they're still there--just hard to capture in a screenshot partially due to the quality i'm working with.

next is an ensign soldier, which is basically a low-ranking officer. i think we only see one of these guys (he's leading the group who find the turtles as stowaways at the beginning of s2ep3, the big house). his tattoos are once again over the right eye, maroon/purple, thicker than a soldier's tattoo, and the peak of the outer-most line has a point. for a moment, i thought that maybe you'd build on the tattoo as you ranked, but traximus and mozar are gonna kind of throw that theory out the window when we get to them.

there's also this guy from s2ep5, triceraton wars. he's labeled as "strike team leader" on his concept art, and getting a visible shot of his tattoo in-show is very frustrating and not helped by the fact it looks like they goofed his color palette, too. his tattoo is over the right eye (like the previous soldiers), red, and it's a curved line with ends that hook toward the front of his face. it's the most similar to traximus's tattoo that we see.

...also, this episode eludes to the fact that "slag" is a triceraton swear word, as zanramon uses it both as an exclamation of frustration and calls the strike team "slag brains". he could also just be calling them all stony waste matter, tho, so. do with that what you will.

there's also THESE GUYS from the invasion-arc in s3, and they confuse me because the invasion-arc not only introduces this new uniform design i don't see anywhere in the concept art that i've collected, but these soldiers have like. no tattoos. and it can't be an animation error because their lack of tattoo was consistent for any wearing this suit design. monza ram steals this suit from one of the soldiers, and looted soldier who reports back to zanramon later doesn't have a tattoo.

i wonder if these guys are like... more engineers than they are soldiers. we mostly see them in the docking bay or in the control room where the boys learn don's location on the homeworld. they're just armed because they'd stand in the way of anyone attempting to infiltrate the homeworld (or escape it), but i don't think i saw any of them leave the vessel itself.

gruell

gruell is an odd one because he has the same maroon tattoos as your common soldier--two narrow lines over the right eye--but he additionally has a tattoo on his right arm. it's of course possible that other soldiers also have this tattoo and that it's just hidden by their sleeves, but if tattoos are a show of rank or status you'd think it'd be somewhere more visible? maybe arm tattoos are additional signals of status when soldiers are in their civvies or something.

regardless, gruell's arm tattoo is the only of its kind we see: it appears to be red ink: an upright triangle that breaks into two longer lines where the top line hooks up toward the triangle and the bottom line hooks down toward another triangle, albeit this one is upsidedown. i'm not sure if this is meant to be an abstract design with the usual triceraton fondness of triangles and jagged lines, or if's maybe a representation of a bi-ringed planet? homeworld before they blew it up oopsie-doopsy? who knows.

monza ram + the all-stars

okay, if there are ANY anomalies on this list, it's these guys. none of them have anything resembling the soldier nor prison guard tattoos we've previously seen.

monza ram is the most unique; he doesn't seem to have any body tattoos, but he does have two thick red tattoos (or one big tattoo?) that rises from his jaw on both sides of his face and breaks into two spikes, one ending before it reaches his eye and the other 'cutting through' the eye and peaking on his brow. it covers the back third of his face, right in front of where his frill starts.

the other three all-stars have a much more narrow tattoo on either side of their face that looks like a jagged scratch, another narrow tattoo across the backs of their necks, then an extremely long one that seems to wrap diagonally around their back and end on their pecks. this is the only instance of tattoos that aren't maroon or red, too, as one all-star has blue tattoos and another has brown.

we unfortunately don't really know anything about the all-stars, just that they seem to be separate from the gladiator slaves, are undefeated (before the turtles), and after they lost their first fight zanramon had them imprisoned, where traximus would later free and recruit them. none of them have soldier tattoos. i know the triceratons love battle, so i wonder if they're more like the career tributes in the hunger games. they volunteered to be gladiators rather than were made to be them. eh. *shrugs*

commander mozar

title revoked because i said so, mozar is frustrating because he doesn't have an eye tattoo that we can see. those marks under his eye-patch are more likely from the injury that cost him his eye since they're a darker color than his skin tone, but where shit gets tricky is that traximus was a commanding officer before he was gladiator'd. so, it's possible that mozar has a tattoo identical to trax's under that eye-patch, and we just can't see it.

important to note, however, that his right eye--the eye where all other soldiers have had a tattoo--is bare. that's where the whole... building on your tattoo as you rank up theory kind of falls to the wayside. he technically SHOULD have one, but he doesn't.

he also has an arm tattoo, but it's on his left arm. again--he might also have one on his right arm, but it's sleeved. his left arm is only visible because his prosthetics must require a shorter sleeve. the tattoo on his arm is red: the top piece is a crescent shape lying on its side so it opens upward, then a long line that dips into a crescent shape so it frames the crescent above it, and finally an upsidedown triangle under the lowest point of the middle curve. this is much more of an abstract design than gruell's, idk what this could be.

traximus

as with mozar, traximus complicates the ranking up theory because he also lacks any tattoos on his right eye; his tattoo is on his left eye, and it appears to be reddish, zig-zagging down from his horn, across his brow, down over his eye, back along his cheek and then down to the corner of his mouth.

he doesn't have an arm tattoo on his right arm like gruell does, and if he has a tattoo on his left arm like mozar, it's covered by either his commanding officer sleeve or his gladiator armor. if mozar's tattoo has any connection to his ranking as a commander, it's possible trax has it, too. we just never get the chance to see it. pity.

the council

the council is a main indication that tattoos might be less a show of social status and more military or warrior specific, because none of the council members have visible tattoos (ignore mozar, he forgot to wear pink last wednesday idk why he's sitting with us). kind of helps me lean a bit more into my engineer theory from earlier.

prime leader (zanramon)

no visible tattoos. none whatsoever. pathetic. let's be real, he'd probably start crying before the needle even grazed his skin.

if you've made it to the end: thank you ONCE AGAIN for coming along with me on one of my dives into triceraton bullshittery. i'm sorry, i will do it again.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #triceratons #;andy's bookstore #;hannah's meta #;triceratons #[ space dinosaurs go brrrrr ]

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Once Upon a Time 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You don’t mind working evenings during the week. In the hour before closing time, it’s pretty slow. There isn’t much for you to do much follow the tune of the instrumental jazz and lean on the counter behind your till. Management is hidden in the back office so you don’t even need to pretend to work.

So it is that you’re startled at the unexpected figure strutting around the table of stationary and novelties across from the checkout. You stand straight as you smile at the man, not letting it falter as you recognise him. You brace yourself and swallow as your mouth runs dry. He’s been here almost every day this week; at least, when you’ve been in.

“Oh, uh,” you don’t notice anything in his hands aside from his cell phone, “Mr. Pine isn’t here, sir. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply until he’s at the counter. His blue eyes bore into you as he rests his hand against the edge, gripping his phone tight. A small furrow scrunches between his brows.

“I didn’t ask,” he smiles.

“Well, er, sorry, I thought…” you chew your lip nervously. Each time he’s been in, he’s asked for the store owner. You assume he knows him. And he’s of the demographic who likes to make a fuss when he doesn’t get what he wants. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he agrees, still grinning.

You squirm and run your fingertips over the keyboard. “Well, is there anything I can help you find? We’re closing up soon–”

“You’re trying to get me to leave?” He challenges.

“Not at all,” you croak. “Sorry, sir.”

“Andy,” he pulls his hand away, instead crossing his arms and leaning his elbows on the counter. He reads your name tag, “it’s fine. I was just looking around. Figure a book might help keep me busy.”

He has a very intense way of watching you. Very on the point. He speaks directly to you, but you’re more the type to focus above someone or past them.

“Do you have a favourite genre?” You prompt. It’s easiest to talk about work and you have a dozen suggestions.

“Not really. You know, I work a lot and I never really had a chance to read much outside of deposition records,” he shrugs and raises his eyebrows, “don’t make my mistakes. Don’t waste your life working overtime. Enjoy the small things. Like books, you’re never gonna find a fairytale in real life.”

You feel a bit bad for him but try not to show it. You don’t want to insult it and he seems to pendulum between amiable and unapproachable. You nod and put on your customer service smile.

“Oh, thanks, I guess you’re probably right,” you eke out, “do you like thrillers? They’re pretty popular and we’re having a special.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s somewhere to start,” he rubs his beard, the hand clutching his phone against the counter as he leans on the same elbow, “what do you read?”

You give your usual answer, vague and not entirely false, “fantasy, mostly.”

“Like The Hobbit or whatever?” He wonders.

“Sure, I’ve read that,” you say.

“My wife– ex, now, she was a Tolkien fan,” his lips slant, “twenty years, no kids. Got nothing to show for it.” He pushes himself straight, “I’m sorry, you caught me on a bad night. I, whatever you suggest, I’ll take it. I need something to get my mind off of… everything.”

“Oh, sure, well, we have our best sellers down here,” you point over the counter and the racks between each till, “Conrad’s always a good choice.”

He hums and backs up. He peruses the books silently as you twiddle your fingers impatiently. You’ve had awkward encounters with customers before, almost daily, but something about him is a bit too cringe for you. You hate to even think like that. You feel mean. He’s just going through some things. And who isn't?

He plucks up a book and comes back to your till. He lays it down and slides his phone into his pants pocket, then reaches under his jacket. He takes out his wallet and pauses as he unfolds it, “wait, do you get commission? I could grab a few more.”

“Um, no,” you login and scan the barcode on the book, “but there’s a survey on you receipt. If you fill that out, I get credit for that.”

“Oh, sure, a survey,” he agrees as he slides out a card.

“And did you have our rewards card?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “what’s that?”

Great. You peek at the time in the corner of the till screen. It’s getting close to closing.

“So, for purchases you collect points. Kinda like air miles. When you buy items that are part of a promotion, you receive double, and for prestige members, there are triple point days. You can collect points to earn store credit.”

He nods and considers it. He tilts his head as his cheek dimples, “so, that costs money?”

“Yes, twenty-five dollars for paperback level and forty for prestige.”

He weighs the options. You expect the amounts to deter him like most customers. He taps his card on the counter, “you know what, I’ll do the forty. I’m looking to get into reading so I’ll be back for sure.”

“Oh, uh, right, okay,” you say with surprise, “I’ll just get you registered.”

You reach past the till and grab one of the cards displayed behind it. You scan it and go through the whole routine; name, phone number, email. You get all his info in and offer him a bag before you turn the debit machine towards him. He taps his card and the approval chirps loudly.

“Great, so, if you wanna do the survey,” you say as his receipt prints out, “you can scan this QR code and it will direct you straight to the survey.” You tear off the receipt and circle at the bottom, “my employee number is here, you’ll have to enter that and the transaction ID.”

You fold the receipt and hand it over. He takes it and looks it over with a squint. He raises his chin and gives a half-smile, “um, this QR thing? How do I… I’m sorry, I’m a bit slow. Could you show me?”

You want to say no. You want to point to the clock and tell him to have a good day but he’s actually going to do the survey. You need a good review.

“Sure, um, I’ll show you. Just on your phone,” you step closer as he digs his hand in his pants pocket, “let me see the receipt.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, “you’re so patient with me.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #bookstore au #au #series #once upon a time #defending jacob

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skyeswriting · 2 years ago

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Here's that bookmark.

#ramblings #i got it from a local bookstore #along w/ other books #artemis by andy weir #aftermath by levar burton #very excited to read both

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 9 months ago

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Read Project Hail Mary cause you said it had the most influence on TTOU. I've never read anything like it (except your story, of course.) Would you ever make a book rec list? Doesn't have to be sci fi exclusively.

The best thing you can do for yourself as a reader of genre fiction is go to whatever used bookstores you can find and search specifically for books from this series:

and purchase and read any of them that you can find. It's called the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction and every issue will contain at least one story that permanently alters your brain chemistry.

Aside from that, I'd recommend The Martian by Andy Weir (the Project Hail Mary guy), the Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers, and anything you can find by Philip K Dick or Neal Stephenson. I'd also recommend a couple of CJ Cherryh's works: 40,000 in Gehenna, and Serpent's Reach. Probably worth reading Serpent's Reach first if you can, but it's not that important, they're not sequels of each other although they are in the same universe.

The series that's had the most influence on me as a writer is of course Animorphs by KA Applegate, but I'm not sure how interesting it would be for an adult reader who doesn't have nostalgia to rely on. Also Tamora Pierce's books, all of them, it's worth picking up those if you like fantasy.

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fob4ever · 1 year ago

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i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

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padfootagain · 3 months ago

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Love in Verses (XVII)

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

Word Count: 3483

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

It was early

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mary Oliver, Evidence, 2009

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

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

“Andy… I need your professional expertise.”

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

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

He grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m merely answering your question.”

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

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

“And?”

“It was… good.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, making him laugh.

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

“How much did you cry?”

“What makes you think I cried at all?”

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

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

“How do you know I have one?”

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

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

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

“Perfume. Like the French.”

“You know it’s a myth.”

“Is it?”

“No idea.”

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

“So, what are you? A zombie?”

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

“Because you think you’re a vampire?”

“I would be a grand vampire!”

“Definitely a tall one, for sure.”

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

“Careful, mortal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crispy bacon, I bet.”

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

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

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

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

You were so glad he was your friend now…

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

“Quite a lot,” he finally admitted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else could we write about, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“That’s insane.”

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

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

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

“You want to go to an outdoor screening…”

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

“That’s impossible.”

“Projectors do exist, you know!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it’s not logistically possible.”

“Because no man would go to such length for someone else.”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the sudden pessimism in your voice. The mood shifted a little, from casually playful to something more serious, even a little sad.

You kind of hated your own thoughts, hated your weakness that made you unable to hold back the rest of your words, but they spilled out anyway.

“Especially not for me.”

Andrew’s expression changed from surprised to a deep frown. He opened his mouth to argue, but you interrupted him before he had as much as a chance to say a word.

“Never mind that. Anyway… let’s talk about something else. It’s your turn to answer a question!”

You narrowed your eyes, mischief back on your features, and if Andrew didn’t seem fully convinced by your sudden change of subject, he yielded anyway.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

“I can ask you whatever I want?”

“Sure… I might not answer though.”

You looked for something that would make him blush for sure, just to tease…

“Weirdest place where you’ve had sex?”

Andrew broke into laughter, clearly uncomfortable now, and blushing like a tomato all the way up to the tips of his ears. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair. And yet, when he looked at you again, there was something wicked in his gaze, something beyond playful.

“That… is a very personal question to ask a lad.”

“You’re the one who started asking about my dating preferences.”

“Dating and having sex are quite… different. One is much more tamed.”

“Only if the date isn’t that good.”

He smiled, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek. You knew he liked that, the challenge of talking to someone witty.

“Fair enough,” he nodded, still staring at you, his voice lower and deeper than usual.

Your stomach clenched, you felt warmth spread across your entire frame under the combination of his stare and his suave ton.

He knew how to be a dangerous flirt, alright…

“I’m afraid I’ll be a little disappointing though. I haven’t had crazy experiences,” he admitted. “I guess… I don’t know… a car?”

“A classic!”

“It wasn’t very nice, to be fair…”

“Really?”

He winced, taking a deep breath.

“Very long limbs in a secluded space is all I’m gonna say about it.”

You chocked on your coffee, laughing so hard your belly was soon painful. And Andrew was laughing as well.

“Oh, no! The woods! That’s weirder!” he changed his answer, looking at the ceiling as he seemed to look through his memories. “Yeah, the woods, actually.”

“Risky business. I bet you’ve traumatised an entire family of badgers.”

“Several of them, definitely!” he chuckled, drinking and taking a bite of his cheesecake.

“Alright, next question!” you eagerly asked, making Andrew smile.

“Erm… like… erm… If you could go anywhere in the world now… Like… you’re just, transported like that,” he explained, snapping his fingers for good measure, “where would you like to go, and why?”

“Oh… It would have to be a place far away if I can teleport there and not suffer through twenty hours of flying… erm… Probably Australia or something like that. Or New-Zealand! Oh yeah… going full on hardcore Lord of the Rings fan in New-Zealand, that would be nice.”

“You’d make a very good elf,” he chuckled, but you shook your head.

“Oh, I want to be a hobbit! Quiet, eating a lot of good food, reading books, complaining about people all day long, like… with your busiest time of the day being going for a walk through the nearby fields. Yeah, I want that life.”

Andrew’s gaze softened.

“That sounds nice, indeed.”

You looked for a question to ask him while munching on your cupcake.

“Where would you like to live? Like… if you had an unlimited amount of money, and you could just… buy any house, anywhere in the world… where would you like to live?”

Andrew hummed as he was thinking of an answer, looking by the window at the rain that was still falling and showing no sign of stopping. In the coffeeshop, Mumford and Sons were playing, you hummed along the tune while you waited for Andrew’s answer.

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m… so boring,” he admitted with a smile. “But I… I would really like to live in Wicklow. Like… in the countryside, in a very small town, and to have… like… some land and a huge garden. Some old house where you can feel the weight of time and of people who have lived there before, but… I mean, modernised, cause… comfort, you know?” he joked, looking at you again. “But yeah, I… I would really like to live in a quiet house, a place with a soul. And I want a garden. I… I would really like to keep bees, one day.”

“Bees?”

“Yeah… they’re my favourite insects, even animals to be fair. They’re so… interesting and quite cute. And I just… Can you imagine? Taking care of your bees, and making your own honey? I would really like that. I would really like that a lot. Nothing extravagant, nothing unreachable just… a house with a garden, and a couple of hives. Besides, Elwood would need a garden. I’m lucky, my parents live in the countryside. I… I think I’d like to live quite close to them, actually. When I was a child, we settled in Wicklow, and it was so nice. I loved growing up there. We didn’t have a farm but we were outside any big city. And it was just so nice. I’d like that.”

You felt your heart grow warm at his words. Something so simple he wanted. Bees and a garden, some place for Elwood to run…

“You are aware it would cost you your liver to have a cubicle in the middle of a field, right?” you asked, trying to think about something else than the way your heart was making happy jumps now.

He rolled his eyes.

“You said that I didn’t have to think about the money. With unlimited budget.”

You nodded, checked the time.

It was starting to be late, your coffee was almost empty and you had finished your cake. Time to go home.

Instead, you looked up at Andrew, noticed how long his eyelashes were as he looked down into his cup of coffee. Your request passed your lips before you could think the words you were speaking.

“Ask me something else.”

A week later, Andrew was back in the bookshop, although, he was on his own this time. The book he had ordered had been delivered, he was coming to pick it up. He wouldn’t buy anything else, just what he needed. He had already bought too many books with you, the previous week, learning that you could not be trusted either in a bookshop. He wasn’t surprised. A fond smile spread on his lips at the thought.

He was about to go pay for the book when something caught his eye. A name he recognised and that made him immediately think of you.

Dante Aleghieri

He walked over to the table where a few books were displayed, including this nice copy of the Divine Comedy. He picked it up, turned the book into his hands, weighted it as he hesitated. He hadn’t read that book since his college days, several years ago. At the time, he wasn’t interested in that story, and he reckoned he was too young to understand it. He had studied later on the bits and pieces that Seamus Heaney himself had translated, but that was all.

You loved Inferno though. You had found something in it. He wanted to find out what it was. Besides, it made him think of you…

He heaved a sigh, walked to pay for both books, carried them home.

That evening, he picked up Dante instead of finishing the novel he was currently reading. He checked on Elwood, who was softly snoring in the corner of the living room, before heading to bed himself. He readjusted his glasses on his nose before slipping under the covers, turning off his phone so he wouldn’t be interrupted or distracted, and he started reading.

He was drawn into the story now, more so than he remembered being the first time around. Of course, it was a book written over seven hundred years ago, with such Christian outdated thoughts that some pieces were lost to us. And yet, there was something haunting in its imagery, something touching in the pain inflicted. He made a mental note to research more about the political context that was debated in the book, he didn’t remember the story being so heavily driven by Dante’s political views, but it was. It was mostly political, mostly Christian too. He kept on reading through Canto I and II, until he had to stop, his breathing caught in his throat, his eyes clouded with tears as he reached Canto III.

Through me you enter into the city of woes,

Through me you enter into eternal pain,

Through me you enter the population of loss.

The words carved above the entrance of hell made him put down the book, stare up at the ceiling. It was silly, that wasn’t what the words meant in the context of the book, and yet… there was so much loss in his life at the moment…

Through me you enter the population of loss.

The words played through his head again and again. What a beautiful way to describe grief…

He let out a breathy chuckle, blinking his tears away and smiling instead.

He should never doubt you. You seemed to always be right…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier series #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au

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