#andrew hozier byrne fanfiction

[padfootagain]

Requests are open!

Fics ordered from oldest to newest.

Find here my analysis of Unreal Unearth and part 2!!

The Car Trap

You're offered a job in Switzerland, and you're ready to accept it. It would offer you a new beginning, a way to forget about the love you have for your best friend. But a trip through a snowstorm with Andrew might change everything...

Home For Christmas

Andrew is on tour during the Christmas season. Unless... he's got a surprise for you on Christmas Eve!

When We Were Lying

Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Blackout

Your new neighbour is insufferable with his music-making and his pretty face and his unbearably tall frame. Or is he? Maybe a blackout through your neighbourhood will make you change your mind about him.

Confessions

Andrew might be a brilliant lyricist, but he struggles when it comes to expressing his love for you. It's too overwhelming for him. Still, he will try to explain his feelings this time.

Grey Days

Andrew is used to feel low sometimes, he has been plagued by those periods for as long as he can remember. But if he usually solves his sadness by being alone, this time, the antidote to his pain might be you.

Nothing here for now...

Only an Almost

Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating his best friend's engagement changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Masterlist for Only an Almost

Love in Verses (coming soon...)

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?

Masterlist for Love in Verses

Nothing for now!

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 21 🌲

Words: 2993; Warnings: none, unless you want one for drinking alcohol and another one a bit of spicy talk then you have them; Summary: Another chapter of navigating mutual attraction and banter through flirtation, teasing challenges, and playful tension.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown

Tuesday, 7:20pm

“Do you believe in the existence of angels?”

Andrew pulled back and she lifted her head sleepily from the crook of his neck she nestled her head into, having adjusted to the warmth and the stillness of the way they were wrapped up in each other even though it had been momentary. She blinked at him patiently. Ignoring his conscience, he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear then found his hand drawn to cradle the side of her face, the way her lips parted for him at his touch, an invitation he fought with himself for far too long to turn down.

“I’m looking at one now” he sighed. There was no doubt in her mind that he meant it, his lips curling proudly, the cockiness that came with his compliments unmatchable.

“Andrew…” she muttered, shaking her head though her stomach was flipping at the way his thumb brushed over her cheekbone. He was obsessed with touching her like this, holding her up to the light like a prized possession, not that he owned her, though he wanted to, and admiring her natural beauty. She was barely wearing any makeup now, had taken most of it off after their swim, but the evening sun helped him pick up the traces of glitter that had settled into the pores on her cheeks, the natural contours of her eyelids and a smudge of mascara under her left eye. Her long lashes lifted and she looked at him so deeply that he let out a loud sigh. Andrew cleared his throat awkwardly and let go of her face, scared.

“I don’t know, love” he drawled, his voice quieter than he thought it was, “they’re quite a religious piece, but, em, if I did believe in them, I’d ask them to look after, em, the important people in my life. And you.”

“I don’t need looking after,” she told him.

“Don’t you? So I don’t need to worry about you when we, em…”

“I can look after myself” she repeated, though he already knew it was true. His impossible mind sent him more puzzles to solve. He tried to work out what it would be like to take care of her when she was sick or had had a bad day or when she really needed him to distract her from everything - but the idea of never knowing was too frustrating.

“But who will shower you with compliments after I’m back home?”

Flo laughed deeply and Andrew crushed his cigarette in the ashtray at last.

“Well I’d have to find someone new, Andrew.”

He smiled.

“Do you believe in them?”

“Yeah, I like to think angels exist…” she said confidently, “So, yeah.”

She stared at him for a while, her hand coming down to his wrist to touch the skin there just wanting a reaction from him, a moment of weakness she instantly cursed herself for. She bit her lip, then stood from the bench, smoothing her dress down and holding her hand out for Andrew to stand too. 

“Come on…” she said as his fingers locked with hers, “let’s go and do something else” she pulled him up, but as soon as he was standing let go of his hand for fear she wouldn’t want to if she held on any longer. She turned on her heel, blocking his face from her vision and started to move inside.

“Wait…” Andrew called, waiting for her to halt, “What about love at first sight?” 

Flo could already sense his wicked grin from behind her, so when she turned to look at him it didn’t surprise her. She rolled her eyes at the suggestive way he was wiggling his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pushing his hair back, his tongue flicking against his lip, “I think you’re lying.”

“Andrew, you can’t possibly know if you like someone just based on how they look” she swallowed. His face remained unchanged, unimpressed by her answer but he shifted slightly closer to her. His closeness was enough to startle her again, make her lose her focus for a second but she carried on regardless,“You don’t just see someone and know that you’re supposed to be with them. It’s not like heart eyes emoji in real life.” 

If she’d have had five seconds more, she would have been able to guess his answer, the irritation at their tension preempted.

“That’s what you gave me…” he chuckled, teasingly. Flo turned away in frustration but Andrew wouldn’t let her get away, pulling her back to him with his strong arms and locking her there as he continued to drawl idiotically, “When you saw me across a crowded room, your heart skipped a beat and you were like, ‘fuck me, that’s my man, he’s the one for me’…”

“Shut up.”

“And you wanted to be with me all week, you can’t get enough of me…” he added, his hands now moving to her waist to tease her, tickling her sides slightly and he enjoyed the way she squirmed, the twisted smile she was straining to hide as she held onto his arms to try and stop him.

“Do you believe in it then?” she asked when he finally stopped and held her still, flipping the question back to him, ignoring the way he spoke, the way he was touching her because it was making her confidence crumble.

“Yes, why not? I’m a hopeless romantic, love” 

She looked at her hands where they were resting on the sleeves of his jacket, took note of the way his hand bunched her dress a little at her waist and wondered why the universe was teasing her like this, giving her this man that she couldn’t keep.

“Because it’s illogical” she muttered, too scared to look up.

“Em, love is illogical, Flo.” 

She lifted her head at last. Their gazes locked for a mere second and Flo shivered, the breeze that swept through them then a convenient way for her to cover up the real reason behind the sudden movement.

Tuesday, 7:30pm

“So…” she sighed, as she turned back to him, running her hands through her hair and forcing a smile.

“So…” he hummed back, his little giggle making her step back instinctively in defense. 

“What’s the plan now then?” she asked, curious to see if he had one already.

After a moment of consideration, Andrew stepped close to her, his lips inches away from hers. He was once again enthralled by the way she smelled, by how her eyelashes curled as she batted them in his direction, the naturally rosy glow of her cheeks. He wanted to touch her again, but her gaze was too searing and he only had an inch of self control left and several days to go. Her bare legs backed against his dressing table with nowhere to go and he lowered his voice as he spoke.

“We’re getting drunk, Flo, love…” he announced, eyes twinkling with excitement and promise. His hand closed around her wrist despite the way he just reasoned with himself. Her skin was so smooth and soft, her shoulders inviting him to kiss them and he swallowed dryly, raking his hair back with his free hand just to give him something to do, the want he had to grab her hip and push against her, truly killing him.

“Again?” she questioned, her voice squeaky, rasping.

“Again,” he nodded, licking his lips.

They stared into each other a second longer, then he pulled her towards the door, needing to escape before it was too late.

Fuck. She wasn’t going to make it.

Fuck. He wasn’t going to make it.

Tuesday, 7:45pm

Though they both managed to make their way down to the lobby without their need spilling over uncontrollably, they stayed close to each other the entire way down. Flo had suggested they take the stairs just to avoid the way the lift stifled her and Andrew was happy to oblige without question. 

As Andrew and Flo entered the bar together, she felt the tension seeping out of her, the familiarity of his touch and the way he smiled at everyone he passed, setting her worries to the back of her mind, at least for now. Though the few guests in the restaurant were mostly finishing up with their lunch, it was deadly quiet, the bar abandoned. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet and Flo wondered what Andrew’s plans were - if he wanted a table, if he was going to order drinks and take them elsewhere, if he was hungry too.

Her questions were half answered when he steered her straight to the bar, squeezing her hand. Giving the bartender a wide grin, and a deep good evening as a greeting, he let go of her hand to pluck a cocktail menu and handed it to her with dramatic flair. She took it from his hands and he nodded at her to pick something, admiring her whilst she was preoccupied.

Her ebony hair swung around her shoulders as Flo meticulously read every item on the menu, the names of each drink wobbling on her lips as she muttered them to herself. She pressed herself forward, one elbow on the bar as she read. Andrew took time to appreciate the tidy application of her lipstick and the delicate way her dress hung around her body. Her presence never failed to excite him, eliciting some deep joy and sense of adventure. She transported him somewhere completely new each time he looked at her from a different angle. They could’ve been at a tiki-bar in Hawaii if he could just place a plumeria flower in her hair, one that complimented the natural flushed shade of her cheeks or strolling around the Louvre on a sticky Parisian day, high on the way she giggled at the naked statues.

“What do you fancy?” he mumbled, snapping himself out of his daydreams, “Except for me, of course?”

He winked at her and she rolled her eyes, turning instead to the bartender who was paying so much attention to Flo that Andrew almost grabbed her waist and pulled her to his side in possessiveness.

“I’d like one Sex on the Beach…” she hummed, Andrew’s deep chuckle from beside her and the slight opening of his mouth as if he were about to offer a flirtatious comment enough to keep her speaking, “…and two Orgasms, please.”

“Coming right up” the young man replied, fetching three glasses to begin preparing her three elegant cocktails. Flo watched the man work for a while, shifting around the bar like a synchronized dance routine, fascinated by the way he filled and poured, crushed and decorated her glass.

“They don’t have happy hours, but, em, you’re going into three now?” Andrew mumbled after a minute, turning to face her profile with one elbow resting on the bar, unhappy with the lack of attention he was receiving.

“Well, we have to keep the alcohol flowing” she whispered, turning her back to face him in a way that made him feel dizzy, her body facing him again. 

She batted her long lashes at him and Andrew screwed his nose up at her teasing. He was about to open his mouth in a counter argument, when the drinks were placed in front of her. Flo’s eyes widened in silent delight and she lifted one glass to her lips, the cocoa flavor hitting her tongue in a way that made her nod enthusiastically in appreciation towards the person who’d created it for her.

“And you, Sir?” the man asked, turning his gaze to Andrew now Flo was satisfied.

“A Manhattan” he replied, his gaze not leaving Flo’s for more than a half second, studying the way she swallowed the sweet liquid, “with your finest whisky please.”

Then man nodded and carried on with his work, leaving Andrew facing Flo again, tasked with fighting her smirk, one he could have sworn she’d learned from him.

“Oh, come on” he chuckled, “you, can’t still be mad at me…”

She didn’t reply.

“Babe?”

“Just made a bet with myself that you’d call me if I didn’t reply in three seconds” she replied triumphantly, washing her sentence down with a sip from the other glass, though her cheeks were now burning.

“You're unbelievable.” 

Andrew shook his head, the smile on her face making his heart leap.

“No,” she grinned, drinking again, “you’re just predictable.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so.”

“What am I thinking right now, then?” he asked.

“Probably something you shouldn’t be thinking” she nodded confidently without missing a beat, keeping up her quick wit just to rival him. 

The bartender waited patiently as Andrew reached for his wallet and counted the cash, telling the man to keep the change, his gaze locked so strongly on Flo that she could tell he wasn’t done with her just yet. He raised his eyebrow in expectation, sipping from the glass that had just been put before him.

“Elaborate” Andrew chuckled as he placed the glass back down on the bar, stretching his jaw in curiosity, “what shouldn’t I be thinking about?”

“I won’t answer that in public” she mumbled back, placing her own glass down with the same vivacity. She noted how much she already had from her glasses, but had no intention of slowing down now, the delicious buzz in her mouth making her feel more equipped to deal with Andrew than she’d been all day.

“Why not?” 

“Because you wouldn’t be able to handle me telling you.”

“I can handle anything you wanna give me…” he drawled.

He took a step forward, enjoying the way she flinched back slightly but had a feeling she hadn’t wanted him to see it. The heat radiating from her body was drawing him in and his hand found her hip momentarily before he found it in himself to drag it away.

“Is that a challenge?” she purred. 

Flo took her own step forward, inviting, almost begging him to touch her again, very aware of what she was doing to him just by the way his eyes wandered. It satisfied her more than she cared to admit. But Andrew knew it was a trap, knew the way her hips swayed as she minimized the space between them was a test and as much as he ached, physically ached to put his hands on her and make her body shudder in a way that would crown him ultimately victorious, he also knew doing just that would be a dramatic loss for him, that she’d only win from his weakness instead.

“D’you like to be challenged, love?” 

Flo shook her head and licked her lips to moisten them, hooked on the way he was drinking her in, preparing a swift answer to counter him with.

“So, you think you can challenge me?” she asked, blinking at him suggestively.

Andrew chuckled to cover up how flustered he felt by the to and fro of their conversation, the way she always toppled his advances prompting him to step up his game. His knuckles were turning white with the way his fist was tightly clenched, holding back from reaching out for her and he thirstily downed half of his drink with his free hand to somewhat drown out the dirty thoughts he had just been hit with, the idea of challenging her now burning in his mind. Flo watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his neck accentuated when he scratched at it gingerly. He managed to compose himself at last.

“I’ve been challenging you for two days already” he drawled, highly enthralled by the way she looked back at him, not having expected such a smooth response, “not going to stop now.”

Flo nodded slowly as she mulled over his words, the truth in them startling her. She carefully considered all the ways that he had indeed challenged her this weekend - made her do things she’d have never even dreamt of before now and she questioned whether it was all him, whether the simple glittering in his eyes made her act outside of her usual rationale or whether it was the combination of them together, Flo and Andy, Andy and Flo, that had sparked such a fearless recklessness inside her.

But she also couldn’t shake the way he had her reeling for him as soon as she’d seen him, drunk on his chiseled features and the vibrance of his personality even before she knew him, before she had even worked out who he was. And the way he continually challenged her body with the simple movements of his, his languid gesturing, the fight her heart and her head had each time he rolled her name off his lips, the need she felt whenever his calloused fingertips brushed over her skin. 

Andrew could see she was lost in another moment of reflectiveness, eyes glossing over, the deep blush of her cheeks never unnoticed by him and he found it both eternally endearing and a little worrying as he usually did each time she drifted away from the moment she was in. Flo barely noticed when Andrew dropped his cocky act and took her arm to lead her away from the bar, looking for a table, holding her chair out for her, forcing her to sit. He sauntered back over to the bar to grab their drinks and placed them on the table just in time for her to rejoin the room, blinking to adjust.

“Good” she said, leaning over the table to press her hand to the naked part of his chest, where quite an excessive amount of buttons on his shirt was undone. Flo could feel how he tensed under his touch, his muddy eyes flicking between her hand and her face, “because I’m gonna keep challenging you too.”

“Oh, Flo…” he breathed out, his long fingers lingering around her wrist.

“There’s nothing better than a little challenge, Andrew.”

[anxiousnightmare]

Ask Guidelines

As a new fic writer, I would love to receive requests for writing fics. Currently I only write for Hozier. Please keep in mind that I may not write for requests that I feel uncomfortable with. As of now, I only foresee my works being of a short length (less than 800 words) due to other commitments in my life. These are some basic guidelines for sending me fic requests-

I would appreciate some broad details that you would like me to incorporate in the fic! No details is also fine, as I can run free with my imagination, but mostly, it's helpful if I have a direction in which to build the fic.

I currently only write fluff and angst, but I can also work with smut requests. It might not be so good and, in my own writings, I'm not very inclined to make it super graphic/descriptive as well.

I only write for fem!reader or a fem oc, as that's what I'm comfortable with writing currently. I haven't ever experimented writing for a gn!reader, although I hope to do so in the near future!

That is all. Hope you have a lovely day!

[beat-the-morning]

AFTER-CONCERT FEAST

Rating: +18

Relationships: Hozier/Reader

Contents: no y/n, oral sex (f! recieving), cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, dry humping, accidental orgasm, (by this I mean he starts mindlessly humping the couch

Word count: 1.7k

SUMMARY: After Hozier, your boyfriend, calls you backstage after a concert he eats you out like a starving man and cums after mindlessly dry humping the couch while doing so.

Fic under the cut💜

The concert had ended, and you were making your way backstage with a security guard in front of you. Andrew, your boyfriend, had sent them to get you, and your mind couldn't stop racing with how he’d looked at you while he sang. How his eyes lit up when he saw you in the crowd, the little smile that escaped him, that verse he messed up on when you winked at him. You could have sworn that he didn’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the concert once he noticed you.

“Here,” the security guard said, opening the door to Andrew’s dressing room. You smiled at them and nodded as a thank you before stepping in. He was waiting for you, leaning on the vanity with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Close the door, it’s fine.” He told the security guard, the door closed behind you and you smiled. He practically bounced off the vanity and onto you with how fast he took you into his arms and lifted you off the floor in a spinning hug. “What are you doing here?” He asked as he finally lowered you from his embrace.

“Came to see you,” you answered with a grin.

Andrew chuckled, then started kissing your face with every pause he took from speaking. “Yes, but why? Weren’t you visiting your parents this week?”

“Yes, but you having a concert in the same city distracted me a little.” You giggled, his beard tickling you.

“Oh, forgot your parents lived here,” he looked down at you with loving eyes that turned to confusion the second he realised what you had done. “Wait, so you bought a ticket, queued for God knows how long-”

“Twelve hours.” You interrupted him

“Twelve hours?” His eyes widened at that fact. “You did that, when you could've called me and gotten in faster and also seen me before the concert?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to surprise you!” You smiled. “And I wanted to see if you'd notice me in the crowd.”

“Well I did, couldn't take my eyes off you,” he kissed your lips.

“I know,” you kissed back. “There's going to be a million tiktoks asking who you were looking at.”

“I don't-” he stopped his sentence halfway through once he saw your shirt. “Are you wearing my shirt?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking, he already knew the answer.

“No.” You lied, as it was, in fact, his shirt that he had accidentally left at your house the last time he saw you.

“You definitely are.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you teased, he rested a hand on your hip, his thumb making small circles on your skin.

“I’m sure you don’t.” His other hand rested on your cheek, caressing it gently.

Then he kissed you again, not letting go this time, you got on your tip-toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He lowered himself lightly and bit your lower lip, you moaned in response. He broke the kiss and guided you to the couch where he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. You kissed him again, more passionate this time, almost hungrily, his hands explored the skin under your shirt, revelling in your warmth.

You explored each other's mouths, delighting in the taste you had so missed, the way his beard scratched your face felt like heaven, his hands travelled to your hips and ground you against him, you could feel his hardening cock rubbing against you and he could hear your whimpers every time your clit got the slightest bit of friction. He slowly lifted you up and changed the pose you were both in, setting you on the couch, and taking off your shirt and bra, promptly discarding them on the floor next to him.

Andrew's lips left your mouth and moved down from your jawline to your waistband, leaving bites and hickeys on his way, he was giving you goosebumps with the way he caressed your body so lovingly, worshipping every curve, every mole and little imperfection, as you called them, seemed like gold in his eyes, like beautiful stars in a sky only he could see. Once at your hips, he looked up at you with lustful eyes, “I need to taste you, so fucking badly,” he whispered, “but I need you to be quiet, can you do that for me, baby?”

“You know the answer to that,” you answered with a grin, already kicking off your shoes.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled back, quickly kissing you one last time before he unzipped your shorts and pulled them off completely along with your panties, throwing them to the floor as soon as they were off you, joining the rest of your clothing. He kissed his way up your thighs, resting your legs on his shoulders. He looked up at you with his beautiful green eyes, pupils dilated to a point where they looked black, silently begging you to give him the final go-ahead before he lost himself in you.

You nodded, he smiled.

He dove into you like a starving man having his first meal in weeks, lapping up your juices and drinking you. You arched your back in pleasure. He licked from your entrance up to your clit, pressing his tongue to it just to flick it right after, you bit your lip in an attempt to quiet down, but it barely worked. His tongue worked at you expertly, he knew exactly what to do to make you squirm under his touch. His tongue travelled down from your clit to your entrance, where he lost himself and moaned just with your taste. Your breathing hitched at the sight of him eating you out, completely enamoured with his eyes closed. He was moaning as he fucked you with his tongue. As his nose rubbed on your clit just right, you thanked God for giving him a big one.

You moved his long curls out of his face, he looked up at you. Your breathing stopped for a second as he rubbed his nose against your clit while smiling into your cunt, in blinding lust you grabbed a fistful of his hair and started grinding your hips against his face. You could've sworn you heard him chuckle. The way he was holding onto your hips was sure to leave bruises later on, you didn't care one bit, you were too focused looking into his eyes and the way they were full of lust and admiration for you. How he kept eating you out even as you held his head in place and basically used him.

He was so hard it was starting to become painful, so he started rubbing himself against the couch, and God did it feel good, he started moaning into your pussy, your taste was driving him crazy, the little sounds that escaped you while he devoured you just got him harder and harder. He left your hole to go back up to your clit, sucking on it and pressing his tongue against it while one of his hands left your hip just for two of his fingers to enter your cunt seconds later, your hips buckled against him again, he placed your clit between his teeth and lightly pressed in response. Your legs started shaking when he did that, you had to place a hand over your mouth to not scream. He fingered you faster, curling his fingers into you and hitting your sweet spot.

He continued like this for a while, making a whimpering mess out of you, and thankfully, today he didn't seem to have the need to edge you endlessly until you were begging for release, he needed this as much as you, maybe even more. He was still rubbing against the couch, but he didn't notice he was doing it, he was too occupied getting you to your own high to care for himself at the moment. You were almost there, his fingers replaced his tongue on your clit, rubbing it rapidly. His mouth moved to your entrance, he knew you were close, and he wanted to taste every drop of your release.

You came with a loud moan that was thankfully muffled by your own hand, your vision went white and your legs trembled. Andrew drank you in, letting you ride out your high as he moaned into your pussy, and then you noticed his hips. He was desperately dry humping the couch, what a sight that was, you could tell he wasn't even noticing he was doing it, suddenly his hips buckled repeatedly and he was groaning into your cunt as he drank the last of you, his eyes were closed and his hand that was still grabbing you was doing so in a way that you were surprised it wasn't breaking skin. He'd come, just from eating you out, the thought made you giggle.

He kissed your clit one last time before pulling his head out from between your legs, his hair was a mess and the lower part of his face was glistening with your juices, he was panting heavily. “I- I didn't notice I was-” He said with heavy breaths, but you interrupted before he finished.

“Humping the couch while eating me out?” You asked in a teasing voice. A smirk plastered on your face.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “made a fuckin’ mess.”

“It's not noticeable from here.” You assured him.

“Good,” he leaned closer to you, hovering his body over yours, one hand held him up while the other found your waist. “Tank you for letting me do this, baby.” He kissed you gently, his accent thicker than before.

“Thank you for doing it.” You smiled.

“I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses, “my perfect girl, so fuckin' beautiful.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him back, “I should get dressed though.”

“Hmm, fine, but I'm keeping these until I see you next time.” He said, grabbing your panties from the pile of your clothes from the floor and keeping them in his hand.

“No, you're not, give them back!” You feigned annoyance, thinking he'd give them back.

“Would you rather I take back my shirt, then?”

“What would I wear then? I didn't bring a jacket.”

“Exactly, so these,” he held up your panties again, “are for me.” He placed them in his pocket right after.

“You’re horrible.” You fake pouted.

“You love me.” He grinned while handing you the rest of your clothes.

“You're lucky I do.”

“I know.”

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Hozier Dating Headcannons

He would definitely love to date someone who is more of an old soul, someone who loves older literature or music 

Expect regular serenades after he writes songs about you and personal concerts when you ask to hear a certain song. These moments would probably be very intimate and would just happen in the comfort of your home together.

You would be the first to hear any new ideas he has for his music and would read you his lyrics, asking you what you think he should change. And of course, you can’t think of anything that could make it any better since it is already so beautiful which infuriates him to no end (he loves you tho)

He seems like the kind of partner to go all out for anniversaries or birthdays and would set up really special dates and surprise outings, always making sure that you are comfortable and having fun. He would probably take you to secluded places surrounded by nature where you can just enjoy each other's company with no one else around.

He would hand write you beautiful letters especially when he is going away on tour or if he is going to be having a late night in the studio and won’t see you for a while

He values his privacy and would most likely keep your relationship lowkey and private. He wouldn’t hide you and wouldn’t hesitate to talk about you a little every now and then but he also wouldn’t tell everyone too much about your relationship, he likes to keep certain things to himself.

He would support you in everything that you do, whether it’s just a project that you have taken up or if it is something for work, he would be right behind you at all times cheering you on. If you start to doubt yourself, he would be the one to tell you how well you are doing and would motivate you 

He has a lot of appreciation for you especially since he knows it can be difficult to be with him when he is really focused on his music or if he is touring. So he would always express how thankful he is that you are there for him, even during tough times.

Considering his love for art and literature, he would love to take you on little museum or gallery dates and would definitely tell you the backstory of certain pieces if you seemed interested. He would also take note of the kind of books, poems or art you like and would give you unique gifts inspired by this.

Despite his fame, he is very grounded and values his private time and time with family, so he would love a partner who listens and values your opinions and alone time together. He would love to see you with his family and is in love with how much his parents and friends adore you.

If you’re not Irish, he would love to introduce you to certain foods or traditions from Ireland. He is always really excited to see your reaction to trying Irish snacks/drinks and remembers what you like or dislike

He is a big ‘I remember you said you like this, so i got it for you’ partner. He remembers everything about you, from your favourite food to your favourite songs or movies and even your favourite piece of jewelry

He is a very emotional guy and at first he struggles to open up to you but as your relationship grows, he becomes more comfortable being himself around you and knows you would never judge him just like how he would never judge you. Once he becomes fully comfortable with you, there is not one thing he wouldn't tell you and never hides anything from you. He trusts you with everything.

As I said he is a very private guy, so he wouldn’t be a big fan of PDA but as your relationship goes on, he will start to be more open about it and will show you off whenever he can. He loves hand holding and will periodically kiss your temple and or the back of your hand when you are out

Part 2!!

[mabelstone]

Imagine Being Loved by Me

hozier x f! reader

part three of lullabies <3 | part two | masterlist

cw: 18+, nothing too serious but a bit teeeny bit of smut

word count: 3.2k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure

Three weeks have gone by since I walked in on Joe piledriving another woman in my bed.

Three weeks ago after a beautiful morning of jazz music, pancakes, and instant coffee, Andrew drove me back to my house to pick up my car. I sent him away with an earnest hug, putting on my bravest face as I let myself inside. No shit, there were rose petals on nearly every inch of floor board. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead, tiptoed upstairs into my room. Joe was asleep in bed, and I nearly tasted my breakfast for a second time that morning. Instantly, I felt nauseated, the type that makes you hot and dizzy and want to run away and never come back.

I pushed the feeling back down, determined to grab all my shit and forget this tainted cell of a house I once loved more than anything. Furiously, I began stuffing all of my clothes into a suitcase. Then in another bag, I took everything that belonged to me; sheets, towels, everything down to the last teabag. I was fuelled with rage, huffing and puffing my way around the house, lugging my bags out to my car. Oh, fuck. My keys.

Where are my car keys?

I searched the house like a mad woman, tearing apart the couches, looking in every cupboard and under every piece of furniture. Nothing. I called Andrew, asking if I'd had them at the bar, as if he'd know the answer if I didn't. "Ehm... just your house keys? I tink..."

"I tink you're no help," I mocked, hanging up with the briefest of smiles before I was playing detective again. I searched for nearly an hour before caving in and waking Joe.

I shook his shoulder roughly, standing back with my arms crossed once he finally stirred awake.

"Mmm..." He groaned, and I waited patiently with a scowl for him to realise it was me and not some broad off the street. "Oh, you're finally home."

"Where are my keys?" I deadpanned, fuse shorter than ever. I wasn't in the mood for the slightest conversation with him.

"I missed you so much, babe," he sighed, pulling my stiff body into a hug. I peeled myself away from him, repeating myself.

"Where are my keys, Joe? I left them in the fruit bowl, and now they are gone."

"Let's talk first before we make any hasty decisions," he coaxed, pulling me by my wrists onto the bed beside him. "I can't explain how sorry I am."

"Joe, please."

"I've been up all night crying, my heart is broken," he sighed emphatically, taking my hand into his. Oh, you're the heartbroken one? "I can't imagine a life without you."

"You weren't thinking that way when you were fucking the girl you met at my show."

"You hadn't had sex with me in weeks! I was getting desperate-"

"Just stop," I barked, throwing his hand off of me. "Give me my car keys so I can leave. This doesn't need to be any harder than you've already made it."

After minutes of brutally painful back and forth, he gave me the keys to his safe. I unlocked it to find my keys and an open jewellery box with a sparkling engagement ring. He was sitting on the bed, eyes filled with optimism, and I almost fell for it.

My phone buzzed and I saw a message from Andy.

You haven't crashed your car have you? X

I took my keys and closed the safe, turning on my heels out of the bedroom.

"Um, what the fuck?" Joe called out as he followed close behind me, roughly grabbing at my arm when I was halfway out the front door. "I just proposed to you, and you don't even have the decency to say no?"

"No," I replied, unlocking my car and tossing my bags into the boot.

"What? Babe, don't throw this away," he began to cry, clearly panicked.

"I haven't thrown anything away. You have." I shoved him away by his chest, just about ready to boil over with anger. "You have destroyed any shred of trust I had in you. It's over, Joe."

My tough act began to slip as my voice shook, climbing into my car and slamming the door shut before he could see how hard this really was on me. He screamed something inaudible at me as I drove away, and I watched him sob into his hands from the rearview mirror.

I cried the entire drive to my mums, ignoring the hundreds of calls I missed from him.

Andrew and I continued to spend time together. I spent many nights at my mums place while I tried to look for a house. I didn't have rental history as Joe wouldn't put me on the lease... because I didn't have rental history. "Babe, it'll just make everything harder," was once his excuse.

When my step dad would get unbearable, Andrew would invite me to spend the night. These nights would frequently begin with me sobbing about how broken hearted I was, and end with him and I snuggling on the couch to a movie. Innocent enough, sure. But after weeks of abstinence following six years of frequent sex, I was pent up. So pent up to the point where I would have to excuse myself for some time alone with his retractable shower head. Many of my thoughts of Andrew were so explicit, you'd think they were from the brain of a teenage boy who'd plough through two boxes of tissues a day. This of course left me feeling inexplicably guilty and beyond confused.

Tonight, we drank wine and sang cheesy duets together. We clumsily danced and laughed until we cried. He had the coordination of a newborn giraffe, and though I'd never admit it to him, I wasn't much better. He drunkenly rambled about how in a perfect world, he'd own a cottage in Wicklow and keep bees. I told him how I'd be a florist who sold my Irish friends' honey.

As if routine now, we'd share a blanket on the couch and watch a movie. Last night was Superbad, tonight was Inception. Andrew mindlessly carded his fingers through my hair, and with the comfort that brought me mixed with the wine, I was out to it within minutes.

His beard tickled the inside of my thigh as he continued to bite and suck at the sensitive skin, eyes boring holes into mine with a devilish grin.

"C'mon, Andy," I whined, throwing my head back in frustration. I closed my legs over his head, desperate to feel his mouth on me where I needed it viscerally.

"Patience, darlin'," he tsked at me, spreading my legs wide before him again. "Look so fuckin' gorgeous right now."

"Please, just touch me," I begged, reaching a new peak of arousal that was actually causing me pain. "Anything, just fucking touch me!"

He just chuckled, locking his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer to his face. He continued to place hot, wet opened mouthed kisses along my thighs, his beard scratching over my clit for a split second, and I swore I was on the brink of orgasm immediately. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, impatience taking full control of my autonomy.

He licked a languid stripe up my clit, causing me to let out a guttural moan, arching my back beneath him. He pushed me back down by my hips, one hand easily reaching my breast as he toyed with my nipple.

"Fuck, Andy," I cried, eyes screwing shut as every single nerve ending of mine came alive.

"Look at me," he ordered, the low rumble of his voice vibrating against my core. Without warning, my orgasm rippled through me, each nerve erupting like fireworks as I chanted his name.

I woke up panting, taking a moment to realise I was laying with Andrew on the couch. And processing the fact that I actually just orgasmed in my sleep.

"What's a'matter?" His voice was soft and concerned as he turned his head to face me.

"Weird dream," I laughed breathlessly, heart still pounding in my chest. This happened far too often. I almost wanted to spill my guts and confess everything he made me feel.

"Dreamin' of me, huh?" He grinned down at me, and I felt my cheeks burn.

A moment's silence.

"What?" Please tell me I wasn't moaning his name in my sleep.

"I'm jokin'," he laughed, averting his eyes back to the TV. "Unless you were."

I laughed along too, though in my head I was screaming. 'Unless you were,' what the fuck does that mean?

The credits rolled over the screen and like routine, we got off the couch and went to our separate rooms. Except this time, my heart didn't settle, and I didn't get much sleep.

We went about our days as usual, as if I didn’t fantasise about him every waking moment. I worried that I was catching feelings, and catching them far too fast for someone who'd only just gotten out of a 6 year relationship.

I couldn’t help it. I was infatuated. Infatuated was an understatement. I was completely and utterly enamoured by Andrew. I wanted to be in his presence every moment I could. I often told little white lies so I could spend the night, even though our we remained within a strictly friends only basis.

He was kinder than any man I’d ever met, insisting on having to open every door for me, sending me off to bed with a glass of water each night, and waking me with coffee just how I liked. He was gentle and tentative, always fast at identifying cues when I was upset.

But that’s all we were - just friends.

I began to crave his touch, desperate for any opportunity to feel his skin on mine. He’d often play me a new song he’d written, and I’d watch on with hearts for eyes as his skilled fingers worked his guitar effortlessly.

I saw it in his eyes too, sure he wanted me how I wanted him. I dreamt of climbing into his lap, kissing him until my lips were swollen or until he couldn’t take it anymore and we’d need to take off our clothes to satiate our desires.

But I couldn’t.

When it felt like we were moving in that direction, I’d turn ice cold. Though my heart was begging me to love him how he deserved, my brain knew this was probably just a rebound. And someone with a heart as golden as Andy's didn’t deserve the hell grief I’d cause him.

So I brushed off each pet name as if hearing them didn’t cause my stomach to do acrobats. I treated each night on the couch as if we were simply best friends who enjoyed each others' company. As though there was no other option than spooning on the couch where his scent became hardwired into my brain. I’d act as if I couldn’t feel his hard on pressing into the small of my back most nights. I’d pretend I’d have no idea what he was really doing when he’d have to excuse himself halfway through the movie to ‘make a call.’ It’s just how it worked for us.

And often, I wondered if it was torturing him as much as it was me.

We pulled up at the venue, Andrew of course opening my door for me, offering me his hand as I stepped out onto the kerb. I thanked him and we headed in together, turning a few heads as we did so. Not that this was unusual, he was 6’6” and painfully handsome, after all. He’d also given himself quite the name, rumours of a few producers attending tonight in hopes of setting him a deal.

“Remember me when you’re famous and touring the world without me,” I fake pouted, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Well obviously, nobody forgets their muse,” he bumped his shoulder into mine, that cheeky grin stretched across his face. “Besides, I owe you that much for giving me something to write about.”

I nearly choked on my drink, raising my eyebrows at him. “And what songs are written about me, hm?”

“The monster mash?” He kept a straight face, giving me that duh look at the same time.

“Oh, shut up, Andrew.” I laughed, acutely aware of the man who just sat beside me. “I’m being serious! It'd make me happy to know.”

“You’ll know when you hear ‘em, baby,” he grinned, throwing back his glass of champagne. Baby. My heart leapt from me, and in that moment I was grateful that he wouldn’t have noticed the deep blush splattered across my cheeks. He was too busy claiming another round of free drinks for us.

“Please tell me that’s your brother or something,” the man sat beside me spoke up, chocolate brown eyes so endearing, thick American accent on his lips.

"I sure hope not," I joked. His face fell, and I realise how that could've been misconstrued. "No- he's not my boyfriend either. We just sing together."

He put his hands together in prayer, looking up to the roof, mouthing, 'thank you, God.' I laughed at him, shaking my head. He had dark brown curls similar to Andy's, his were just more tame and much shorter. Full lips that twisted into a dopey smile, and if I weren't so confused with my emotions, I'd have jumped into a cab and gone home with him without a second thought. "I'm Will," he introduced himself, shaking my hand.

"Y/N," I blushed when he kissed my knuckles, wondering where the hell Andy had run off to. "Where are you from?" I attempted to avert the conversation, regaining ownership of my hand.

"Colorado," he smiled, signalling to the bartender that he wanted to order another round. "And you're a singer?"

"Uh... well I sing, yes," I giggled, the three prior glasses of bubbles gone to my head. "I wouldn't label myself a singer as such."

"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," he grinned, slipping his hand onto my thigh.

"I uh," I stammered, struggling to find the words. "That's very kind," my eyes searched the room for Andy. He towered over mostly everybody wherever we were, standing out like a sore thumb. But for some reason, he was nowhere to be found right when I needed him.

"I'm only in town for the night," he leaned in close to me, his breath hot in my ear, and his hand only getting warmer on my thigh. "Once you're done your little performance, why don't you come back to my hotel and give me an encore?"

Like the Gods had intervened, a familiar calloused hand was grabbing my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go backstage." I looked up to Andy, his expression rigid, bordering on disgust and anger.

"Oh, okay," I nodded, hopping up from my stool, Will's hand quickly retracted. "Uh, see you," I smiled awkwardly, Andrew's grip still around my arm.

"Here's your drink," he let me go, handing my glass to me.

"You saved me, Andy," I laughed, glancing back at the man who'd already moved onto his next victim. "Total wanker."

"Mhm," he hummed, not even looking at me as we made our way backstage.

"Everything alright?" I prodded, his expression unchanging. He didn't reply, instead opened the door to the green room for me. We weren't at our usual bar tonight. We'd been invited to perform at a decently size theatre that just so happened to be full of producers, offering free drinks for the performers. Maybe not the best combination.

The green room was alive with seven or so other musicians, all mingling amongst each other as they awaited their turns. There was a table lined with finger food, and a minibar with premixed drinks. Andrew had made a beeline straight for the snacks table. Typical.

"Um, hello?" I whisper shouted to him, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. "Is there a reason you're ignoring me? Is it because of that bloke? Because I-"

"Yes," was all he replied, taking his food to one of the couches with him.

"Okay," I was surprised with how forward he was, sitting down beside him, honestly perplexed by his rigidity. "...Why?"

"I didn't like the way he was talking to you," he shrugged, still avoiding my eye contact. "He was disrespectful."

"So... why are you icing me out, exactly?"

"I will say the wrong things, better to say nothin'."

This was unlike any way I'd seen him act before. Cold, annoyed... jealous? Surely not.

"Well, I'm sorry I- or he made you feel this way."

"Andrew Hozier-Byrne? You're on in two minutes," one of the stage hands announced, nursing his clipboard on his hip like a baby. "And we're still going ahead with the song change?"

Andy nodded, having a quick drink of water and tossing his rubbish away.

"Song change?" I questioned, following behind him. I made sure to watch every performance of his, even if it meant being amongst the audience when I wasn't also performing.

"Oh, yeah. When I went to get you a drink, I quickly changed my song. No biggie," he shrugged, tying his hair back into a bun, slipping his cap over the top. Jesus Christ, he looked fucking edible.

"What's the song?" I pressed further, still adamant despite the backstage timer ticking '30 seconds.'

"Haven't named it," he shrugged his guitar strap over his shoulders, giving me a wry smile. "It's about you, though."

I blushed deep, unable to form words. There was no space for talking anyway; he headed out onto the stage, leaving me dumbfounded as I watched on.

He awkwardly introduced himself, as he did each night.

And then followed my undoing.

I'd be the voice who urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice.

Imagine being loved by me.

Suddenly, there was not nearly enough air behind this curtain as I watched on, awestruck.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do.

So I try to talk refined in fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you.

I'd be the last shred of truth lost in the myth of true love.

I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of.

That's found in the last witness before the wave hits, marvelling at God.

Before he feels alone one time and marries the sea.

Imagine being loved by me.

Fuck.

My knees felt weak, sure my ears were deceiving me. Imagine being loved by me. Oh, but I do.

Sure enough, producers from many labels were flagging him down from the minute his set finished, flooding the backstage where I was waiting for him.

I ended up having to go on straight after Andrew, thankfully. I couldn't think of any words to say, and the ones I could think of were highly inappropriate. Not that he would mind, clearly.

I hung around after my set, making eye contact with Andy here and there, waving him off when he looked like he might leave the conversations for me. I was happy for him. Ecstatic. And the craving for his touch only multiplied tenfold with his subtle admission that he felt the same.

tricked ya!! i am physically incapable of writing slow burn lol i hope u enjoy what i have for u in the next chapter xx it'll be very juicy (and hopefully longer)

i've also added a taglist as per a request, lmk if you wanna be added xo

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[sunlight-fics]

I WANT/NEED TO GIVE THIS MAN A HUG SO FUCKING BAD ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Profound Pleasure of Little Things

Hozier x reader

Author's note: Basically the thought was, "ohh, what if there was a real moment that inspired Wasteland!baby."

Summary: Andrew and Y/n spend an afternoon at the beach.

Warnings - poorly written fluff, I guess.

"I think if the world ended right now, I'd be alright with that.”

After spending the past fifteen minutes or so bearing witness to her magnificence. Ireland's solem grey sky meeting the frigid, green water and acting as a cool toned backdrop to the brightness of her beauty. The way those deep, blue jeans hug her curves, the woolen burgundy coat, draped over a band tee, that follows the contour of her frame and her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she stands a few feet off the edge, gaze cast out towards the horizon; as if the world below them had been thought up just for her.

As Y/n turns to face him, the wind whips her hair forward, and he smiles when she hastily brushes away from her eyes. “What?” She chortles, but there's an air of disbelief in the word and she tilts her head a little to the side, “why?”

Licking his lips, Andrew pushes off the boulder he's been perched on, one converse-clad foot planted on the ground while the other stayed propped on a smaller rock jutting from the lush grass. “Because,” he stuffs his hands into the side pockets of the denim jacket he's thrown over his red flannel, “I've seen you, standing here and that's gotta be the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Y/n rolls her eyes; he's awfully romantic when he doesn't mean to be – and mind-bogglingly terrible at it when he actively tries. Just that morning he'd clumsily danced them into the kitchen table after daring more than their usual sway. But now, after a long afternoon drive and an impromptu hike up a hill that overlooks the sea, he's stringing together the sort of lines that make her cheeks go warm and stirs a flutter in her chest. “You're being dramatic,” she teases, relinquishing her hand when he reaches for it. Their fingers lace with ease; it's something they're so used to doing that Y/n rarely thinks much of it anymore. It's such a small, mundane thing and his hands have become so familiar to her that they almost feel like her own – and like she'd miss her own hand if it were gone forever, she'd miss his too.

He is a part of her; as vital as a limb, or the thing beating in her chest.

“Hardly,” his thumb ghosts the soft skin over her knuckles, and his eyes soften when they meet hers. It still startles him that she's his, and standing there with the smell of salt, autumn and her perfume flooding his senses, Andrew fears he might be dreaming, “you look…..” Like a painting, something that one could only wish to be privileged enough to see, let alone touch, “exquisite.”

Y/n giggles before glancing down at herself. She knows she must look plain at best, and a wind-tousled mess at worst. Even if she isn't the self-deprecating type, it's tough to believe that she looks like anything special without makeup, her hair free-styled by the breeze and her face nipped by the chill. The coat that she's owned for nearly a decade and a faded t-shirt probably isn't helping her case either. “Are you trying to get laid on this hilltop?” She asks conspiringly.

Snaking his free arm around her waist, Andrew simultaneously pulls Y/n closer and throws his head back in laughter. Lifting her gaze to drink him in, Y/n’s smile softens; she loves the way he looks when he laughs like that. Entirely carefree, as if he mightn’t have anything in the world to worry about, its a laugh she sees most off when he’s been home for a while and he isn’t concerned about deadlines and appearances, or when they have friends over and he’s had a bit too much to drink. Or when she says something that is a little absurd, but not quite funny, and he somehow finds the world of humor in it.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed,” his fingers curl into her waist. Then, when the shaking of his shoulders settle, he lowers his eyes to meet hers. It always baffles him how she could not know – not completely – what she does to him. Because if she did, Y/n wouldn’t doubt his credibility for a second when he says that she’s beautiful – and utterly in awe of everything that she is. “But I really do think that you look lovely darling,” he adds softly, freeing his hand from hers to gently cup her face, “if you saw what I did, you’d understand. If you could see yourself through my eyes…….thought of yourself with my mind, you would get to know the most breathtaking person I've ever met.”

Licking her lips, Y/n lays her hands on his chest, thumb grazing the sliver of skin left exposed by the undone top button of his shirt. “How do you do that?” She muses quietly, gazing up at him.

Andrew's thumb roves the apple of her cheek and she leans into his touch, “Do what?” He lowers his head a little, so their foreheads are that much closer to touching.

“Come up with…..stuff,” she hates the word in the context, “like that.”

“Well, it would just so happen, that I have the best muse,” because every beautiful thing he can think of is tangled up with the thought of her. He can’t see flowers without wondering how they’d look if they were laced in her hair, or held in her hands, he sees art and wonders if she’d like it too and when he’s faced with a day like this one – where everything seems to be in perfect measure – all Andrew wants to do is share it with her.

“I am just so in love with you,” he rasps, the sudden drop in his voice sending a shiver up her spine, “that it touches every part me, everything I do has a bit of you in it,” as if all the old parts of himself have been shed, giving way to something new, improved in a way that only be because of her presence.

The more Andrew thinks about the clearer one certainty becomes; in a way, the world has already ended. It happened the second he fell in love with her. Everything as he knew it was changed forever – reduced to a wasteland, and out from the ashes she came.

Lifting one of her hands, Y/n caresses his temple with the pad of her thumb. “What a beautiful mind you have,” she muses, gaze matching his. Y/n always faults him for having a way with his words, usually when he doesn't even mean to, but Andrew doesn't think she ever pays enough mind to what she's saying. “Who needs the rest of the world when they have this?”

His thumb continues stroking her cheek in that languid, gentle fashion and Andrew’s gaze softens so much that he thinks he must be melting under her touch. He must be putty in her hands – so easy to mold however she pleases, because the only thing he wants more than being with her is being exactly what Y/n needs.

May he always be a necessity, may her life be just a touch emptier without him, so she’ll keep him around.

“Who needs it, darling?” Who needs it when the best of it smiles when she looks at me? He’s just about to press his lips to hers in a kiss he’s been aching to steal since the moment she turned to look at him, when a wave – way down below – breaks so violently that a few droplets hit their faces, causing Y/n to shift her gaze towards the expanse of glacial teal.

“We should walk down to the beach,” she suggests suddenly, eyes alight with the wonder of someone yearning for the thrill of adventure. In an instant, Y/n is backing out of his embrace – like a dream just past his immediate reach. She takes his hand though, lacing her smaller, finer fingers with his and practically tugs him along, urging him towards the mouth of the stoney, sloped pathway that leads to the beach.

“Yeah, sure-” Andrew doesn’t even get to reply before he’s stumbling along, blindly following her. He isn’t even sure if she actually knows the way – he’s never taken her there, but Y/n is quick-witted enough to figure things out without anyone’s help. As he watches her trot ahead with purpose, feet clad in Chuck Taylor's stomping on the feathery grass as she moves ahead, Andrew keeps his gaze fixed on her. The way she holds her head up, as if she doesn’t need a map – or even him – to show her the way. The way the wind blows her hair and her delicate fingers work to keep them away from her eyes. She’s moving so quickly that its hard to take it all in, and Andrew finds himself wanting to ask her to slow down, so he can soak up the way she looks against the blur of the trees.

Sometimes, he wants to tell her – beg her – to just be a bit more still. Because while he adores watching her move, drinking in every miniscule action that is so specific to her, Andrew breathes for the moments where there isn’t the slightest quiver in her form. When his view of her is entirely unhampered by the demands of life; she doesn’t have to get up to answer her phone, or check on the laundry downstairs – when she’s just lounging in bed with her glasses propped on the bridge of her nose and a book held up in front of her face, when she’s sitting on the back patio while nursing an afternoon tea, watching the birds entertain each other.

When Y/n is standing before him, surrounded by a tapestry of greens and blues and other specks of colour that pale in her wake, like something he should never be so privileged to bare witness to.

His thoughts are interrupted when she stumbles on a rock and instinctively deserts her hand in favor of reaching for her hips. “Slow down,” he chuckles, reeling her close to his chest, one arm wrapping around her middle as they continue downward.

“But I wanna see the beach,” she protests with a giggle as his lips find her cheek. Reaching past herself, she lays her hand on his neck, holding his face close to hers for a few seconds longer.

“And you will,” Andrew mumbles, mouth still pressed up to her face, “but lets……enjoy the getting there too.”

“I think you’re enjoying it a little too much,” Y/n admonishes humorously when Andrew squeezes her to him.

“Impossible,” he bends his head to nuzzle the side of her face, “I actually think you’re not enjoying this enough.”

“Yeah?” She leans into his embrace, hand falling onto his forearm as she finally relents to stopping for a moment. She can hear the sounds of the sea a bit more clearly now, and the air is saltier than it had been when they were up on the hill. Through the foliage, Y/n spots bits of jewel toned ripples, a tell-tale sign that they aren’t too far off, and she’s actively holding herself back from urging him ahead. She does have a habit of rushing things, sometimes the need to just keep moving is almost overwhelming; she’s so focused on getting somewhere that she forgets the journey is half the experience.

Andrew, she often finds, is entirely the opposite. It's a quality she admires in him; his ability to revel in simple joys, the way he’s able to steady himself enough to thoroughly take everything in. While she’s eager to brush past everything in her way to get to her finish line, he’s perfectly fine with strolling through the trees, stopping ever so often to take pictures of things that interest him, or rattle off a random fact that he learned in a nature documentary.

“Yes,” Andrew hisses, kissing the corner of her lips, “just relax a little.”

“I’m very relaxed,” Y/n scoffed defensively, “we just have different definitions of that word.”

Andrew laughs loudly, finally letting her go and allowing her to take his hand again, “I’m not even sure that word is in your dictionary,” he chortles as she tows him along. Y/n doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know if she hears him, because as the words leave his mouth, they reach the edge of the woods which opens up to the small beach. The sand is soft under his shoes, and the sting of salty air is sharp. “Happy now?” He teases when she lets his hand go in favor of going a few paces ahead.

“I was always happy,” Y/n corrects, “but now I'm…..satisfied.”

“If satisfaction is what you were looking for, I could've helped with that up there,” he nudges his head towards the top of the hill they’d been standing on about fifteen minutes earlier.

Y/n rolls her eyes as she turns to look at him, “oh shut up,” she giggles.

“Just sayin’,” he hums, moving to stand beside her, arm going around her shoulders. Immediately, Y/n tilts her head so its touching his side.

As she keeps her eyes trained forward, Y/n hums, “its so beautiful.”

Andrew returns the sound, albeit just a bit softer as he turns his head to look down at her, nestled against him. Its hard to describe just how much he enjoys the feeling of her tucked against him, its one of those simple pleasures that he never fails to appreciate; the way her form fits perfectly with his, like they were made to just click together. It's such a small thing; the comfort that comes with holding someone who wouldn’t trade the feeling of your arms around them for anything else in the world, and he can never seem to get enough of it. He lives for the way throwing his arm around her shoulder has become as natural to him as breathing, and how instinctive it is when she leans against him.

“Don’t you think so?” Y/n glances up at him, a smile dusting her cheeks when their eyes meet. There's always a little tingle that prods at her heart when she finds him looking at her, like the beat of butterfly wings against the petal of a flower.

Licking his lips, he glances forward at the ocean stretched out before then, and the near vacant beach that spreads out for at least a mile on either side.

He must’ve seen this beach near a hundred times by now. Andrew is well aquainted with the way the waves break against the collection of jagged rocks piled against once side of the shore, foam washing the salt-worn gray and seeping into the crevices. The crunch of pebbles and broken seashells under his boot isn’t foreign to him, and he knows all too well how frigid those waters can be around this time of the year. He’s seen the beauty of the place, he swears he’s done his best to appreciate it too, but there’s something different about holding her as the water pulls the sand seaward and salty sprinkles dust their lips. It feels like he’s seeing for the first time all over again.

And he loves it – all of it. The way it feels like a film has been peeled off his eyes, the thrill of enjoying the simplest things so much more than he ever has because he's sharing the moment with her.

“Yeah,” he looks at her again, lowering his head to touch the tips of their noses, “its beautiful, baby.”

[daddyhausen]

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 MUSICIAN/ BANDS MASTERLIST 」 | 「 HOZIER MASTERLIST 」

「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — blowjobs in the backseat of andrew’s car in the church car park

「 WARNINGS 」 — 18+, [ MINORS DNI ], mentions of religious procecussion, catholic!reader x catholic!hozier, oral sex [ male recieving ], facials, cumshot male orgasm

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 987

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x hozier

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @bayleymania @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper

「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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the night had always brought peace in your life. it was the one time where you felt you could be your most authentic self, free from the pressures of the church, fromm the llering eyes of parishioners, of their judgemental stares and gossip. not that you were one to even stir any trouble or anything that would warrant their stares. why you, the church girl, the innocent doe with rosery in one and and veil shielding your eyes from any scrutiny.

yet, they still stare, still shun you for your love. despite your devotion to christ, your devotion to andrew outweighed it in thousands. he was the first to not judge, to not stare with glaring hate in your direction, but affection, the muddy green of his irises bore nothing but adoration. his hands gentle in their caresses of your skin, even in passing in the pews, always respectful, always gentle.

even now, positioned on your knees as you were so commonly used to in the church pews, however your lord was not looking down on you with praise, for in his place was andrew,. mouth agape with shallow breaths, as your lips worked magic around him. he knew the church would shame him, you moreso. for without the sanctity of marriage the two of you were engaging in nothing but common sin, the two of you knew that, however, the feeling would not stop, nor did you want it to.

with your lips wrapped around andrew, taking him inch by inch as he delved deeper into sin, fingers tightening in the soft strands of your hair, entangling him like a wicked serpent.

“oh darlin’” he hummed, head thrown back in a fit of pleasure. he adored it. he adored you. the mossy green irises flickered down at you every so often, watching as you swallowed his length with a soft mumble and a moan, avoiding his gaze with a heated tint rising on your cheeks

his hand would fall from your hair, smoothing down your cheek, trailing down your jawline until gingerly resting under your chin, tilting up your head ever so slightly to meet his eyes. He bore adoration and love for you, for this pleasure he was so happy and grateful to receive from you. in this moment you did not care what the church was to think, in this moment your lord held no power over you. andrew;s completely overshadows any presence your lord ever had.

the moonlight, hidden through cracks in the treeline caressed his skin so wonderfully, a glossy sheen of sweat and rain reflected off his skin and through the windows, he looked ethereal bathed in the moonlight, the harsh shadows of night obscuring his features aside from his lips and the tip of his nose whenever he’d let out a pleasured moan.

how he’d throw his head back, lips parting with a moan as you could see the bob of his adam’s apple ripple with his throat as the euphoric sound pared his lips. you’d sink your lips lower around him, feeling him nestle comfortably in the back of your throat, his cock throbbing against the flat of your tongue on the verge of release

“darlin’ please i…i’m so close”

his teeth gritted, grinding together as pleasure courses through him. as your cheeks hollowed, drawing him in deeper, taking all he had to offer.

“oh fuck-” he pulled out with a soft grunt.

his cum adored your face and neck, pearlescent under the moonlight. the sight only accentuated your beauty even in such a state of undress, you looked like an angel, sent down from heaven just for him. he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty for corrupting such a beautiful, innocent creature such as yourself. he couldn’t bare to think of the scrutiny you’d face if the church were to ever find out. Even if they were, andrew would not allow them to shame you, for he would bare the brunt of it to save you from ridicule, save you from the jeers and jusdgement.

“c’mere, love…” he pulled you from the floor, gingerly placinging you into his lap, his softening cock prodding the back of your thigh with dull pulses. the familiar irish twang of his voice echoed in your ears, accompanied by a subtle, content groan that rumbled in his chest.

his chin resting upon yours, silence befell the both of your as your breathing started to shallow, content in listening to the rhythmic beating of eachothers hearts. his thumb, docile in it’s movements, prodded at your bottom lip, swiping away the pearlescent streak of his cum from your skin, doing so until your flesh was “pure” to the untrained eye.

“what if they find out about us?” your voice barely above a whisper, a mere squeak like that of a field mouse.

“hmm?” andrew hummed. not so much that he wasn’t listening, moreso his voice was hoarse from pleasured moans. his hand wrapped around your thigh with a protective grip, thumb smoothing across the skin in gentle circles.

“the church? what if they find out about us?” you reiterated, repeating you question as if he hadn’t heard you the first time, with more desperation and worry to your voice.

“they won’t” he replied simply. almost nonchallontally

“you don’t know that-”

“and how do you know that they will?” his question rhetorical, cutting your sentence off in the process.

it sounded rude although that was defintely not his intention. andrew’s jaw tightened for a moment, the protective grip on your thigh still evident. he was contemplating his next words, carefully, evidently. you could see the cogs turning in his head as his eyebrows furrowed, chewing the inside of his cheek in though.

“i will not let them shame us for giving in to our basic instincts.” he responded cautiously, mind still in thought.

“i will not let them shame us for being human”

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[beetboxx]

a siren’s call home - a.h.b x reader

pure, sickeningly sweet fluff in which you wake up to andy home from tour, finally.

content disclaimers: not proofread, religious reference, reference to sexual activity but no smut, language? maybe?

author’s note: we are so back squad. it’s only been like two years. i haven’t written in so long so we can call this a test run as i get back into the swing of things. ill update my intro post to better align with what im into! feel free to come and talk to me about prompts, ideas, random thoughts, whateva. i miiiiiiggghhhhtttt write some smut next. hope you enjoy!!

orange light intruded through window shutters like holy arms, caressing the cozy room you laid in with a touch of warmth to counteract the bite of cold at your feet and nose. what was also fighting against that was the thumb stroking the small crevice between your nose and your cheek, not doing much to help but comforting nonetheless. it was the exigence to your wakeup, a bit alarming at first until you understood the source- a large hand with long fingers attached to a proportionally long man smiling like the protruding rays of sun through draped brown, ginger-ish curls, most of it lazily pulled back into a bun at the back of his neck. you registered the vague freckles speckling his cheeks as you blinked lazily, huffing and tensing your grip in your blanket.

“hi.” he said, breathing out a laugh as you felt his calf rub up against yours and his hand smooth against your cheek to your hair to comb his fingers through it as best he could, his nails scratching your scalp ever so slightly.

you sleepily murmured a response, a quick, “hi, andy,” scrunching up your face when his palm returned to your cheek. his other ventured to your waist under the comforter, soft and delicate and squeezing the plains and valleys of your side a bit when he felt like it.

”you’re pretty.”

for such a poetic and profound man, able of expressing emotions so difficult to pin down, he was seemingly struck dumb in this moment over the sight of you. maybe in order to allow his wisdom to return, maybe in order to attempt to become impossibly close to you, his other hand paralleled the other on your waist, pulling you into his torso and wrapping around to meet at the small of your back. you nuzzled into his chest, taking in his familiar scent of a cologne reminiscent of dark forestry and a breeze and placing your own hand on his shirt at his heart to feel it flutter at your fingertips. comfortable, comforted.

“when’d you get back?” you asked, voice coming out as a mellow drawl.

andrew hummed, placed a kiss on the top of your head. “late.”

“you should have woken me up,” you whined, rubbing your eyes.

another kiss, this time to your forehead where your skin meets your hairline. his lips were warm against your chilled skin.

“you say that,” he teased, accent thick with sleep and homecoming, “but you would have crucified me had i actually done that.”

“crucified, no. pinned you to the bed in a similar pose and jumped your bones, maybe.”

you grinned, leaning your head back to allow enough room to kiss his jaw. a stubble met your lips, one that had grown out and been trimmed many times over the course of his touring, all phases of which you unfortunately, miserably, missed.

“hush. you’re dreaming.”

“am not.”

andrew laughed, you squeezed him in your arms. his laugh, although quiet in volume, felt like a dose of hospital-grade medicine to your yearning-induced blues in your system as soon as it entered your ears. his voice and presence was coaxing you awake, a process usually so difficult and taxing, flooding your growing consciousness in a pool of comfort. you missed him. you missed him like a wilted flower misses the sun. you missed him in a way that could only be equated to something of cosmic origin.

“i missed you,” he whispered. thank god.

you returned his sentiment. silence then fell like a thick blanket over you both, thicker than the one bunched up at your shoulder. it sat there for a long while, robbing the both of you of thought except for the feeling of relief. andrew’s thumb rubbed back and forth on your back, a reminder of existence so you didn’t float away. you could have sworn he fell asleep with how quiet he was and how steady and light his breathing was.

you sighed, began squirming your way to get up at least to a sitting position- but you didn’t get far, that ambition quickly being squashed by two lean arms squeezing tightly, barring you from moving away from andrew.

“no.”

a mumble, quick and straight to the point. you huffed out a chuckle, choosing not to argue and enjoy the moment. moments, andrew decided for the both of you. very long, undescriptive in quantity moments. one of his hands moved up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in closer and raking into your hair to rub at your scalp. he was wearing a gray crewneck, you noticed, with unfamiliar blue embroidery of the name of some U.S. state, vintage style. you didn’t recognize it, guessing he must have gotten it on tour at whim.

he was definitely tired- exhausted, even. the lines and circles of color under his eyes had emphasized themselves, but the sight of you gave them a certain light that made you know he wasn’t going to sleep. too many thoughts, too many things to do now that he was home and finding himself complete. he was completely overwhelmed with the feeling of being home that he felt perfectly energized- that, and three cups of coffee he had had just before laying down beside you definitely helped. he took your hand in his as if he was inviting you to a dance, pressing the back of yours against his chest. to further trap you in his web or to just get closer to you, you’ll never know.

“honey, i have to get up eventually,” you remarked, trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no you don’t,” andrew immediately replied without skipping a single beat, tightening his grip on you in case you tried to pull a fast one on him and get out of bed. one of his legs, clad in loose cotton sweatpants, swung over both of yours under the covers, effectively holding you right where he wanted you in his arms.

“andrew, i have to be a functioning member of society,” you joked, wiggling around just a little with no actual attempt to break free from his hold. truthfully, you could never: he had a hold on you and your heart so tight and driven by fate that you were damned for eternity to be consumed by your love for him.

“i can make you breakfast,” you added, craning your neck back to smile at him.

andrew hummed, clicking his tongue. “ooh. very enticing and unfair,” he said. “trying to seduce me with the prospect of food.”

“seduce? i am merely giving you incentive.”

he paused, thinking. his head tilted, as it often does when he is thinking. you took his occupation with thought for an opportunity to make a smart decision and begin your day, freeing yourself from his entrapment and slinking off the bed. he acted quick, however, letting out a noise of surprise and disappointment wrapped in one and throwing himself across the bed to your side. andrew wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood, stopping you from moving too far away from

him. not again. you figured he would be a bit clingy getting back from tour, but this was taking it too another (but very welcomed) level.

“andrew!” you whined without any real weight to it as his chin rested on your hip, grinning happily. your fingers tangled themselves in his wild hair, frizzy from travel and the usual irish moisture. his hair tie was certainly not doing a fantastic job at keeping it all back, strands thick and thin escaping its weak confines. you giggle, “you’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?”

“and you’re like.. ehm.. a siren.”

you playfully scoffed, “a siren?”

“oh, yes, a siren,” he grins, pulling your waist in until you were sitting back on the bed. “a beautiful but relentless creature with an inclination for luring and trapping defenseless men such as myself.”

“and eating them,” you added.

“whatever,” andrew said, pulling himself up to sit beside you so he could drag you into his lap. you turned yourself and straddled his thighs, arms wrapping around his neck, your intentions for the morning entirely forgotten.

he kissed your lips, softly, like he was testing the waters. you thought your breath stunk for a second with how gentle he was- until you tried to peel away, only for him to grab your face and keep you in his entrancing kiss. he deepened it, mouth opening slightly in rhythm with yours, lips dancing together like they hadn’t in so long.

you stayed that way for a while, letting andrew delicately consume your heart and soul and very essence with his neglected mouth. you could feel his breath mix with yours and span over your cheeks, and you swear it was full of helium with how light and floaty your lungs felt. you pulled away, eventually, taking a little more willpower than you would like to admit as his charged lips pulled yours in like a magnet.

he sighed, happy and content as he stared at you with big eyes, twinkling with every overwhelming emotion he had towards you.

“you have me entirely whipped, woman. like a siren.”

“i know,” you replied, kissing his lips again. “i’m glad you’re home.”

“i know.”

[padfootagain]

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?

Pairing : Hozier x fem!reader

Professor! AU

Warnings: hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, no smut but suggestive scenes so 18+ only

Chapter 1 : 'And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately'

Chapter 2 : 'Through me the way to the City of Woe'

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Chapter 6 : ‘I’ll lie here and learn how, over their ground, trees make a long shadow and a light sound’

Chapter 7 : 'And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.'

Chapter 8 : 'I hope she never learns how to peel oranges'

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Chapter 10 : '[I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea'

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Chapter 12 : 'Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again'

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Chapter 14: ‘Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery’

Chapter 15: ‘He’s bored- I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets in water?’

Chapter 16 : ‘Only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies’

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

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Chapter 20 : 'My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you'

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Chapter 22 : ‘And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere’

Chapter 23 : 'Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest'

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

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

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Chapter 34 : ‘One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.’

Chapter 35 : ‘Love comes quietly, finally’

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Chapter 37 : ‘I found the other half above the pillow where you lay’

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 22 🌲

Words: 2648; Warnings: none, unless you want one for drinking alcohol and another one a bit of spicy talk then you have them; Summary: An intoxicating mix of desire, playfulness, and escalating tension.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown

Tuesday, 8pm

Flo sipped on her drink quietly for a while, the silence comfortable as she switched between glasses to prompt a feeling of tipsiness she was chasing after. Her mind was half lust now, half sadness and she needed distraction from both. The wash of alcohol in her throat seemed the only logical answer.

Every now and then she’d meet Andrew’s eyes or better yet, catch him observing something in the room with inquisitive excitement and it’d push her further towards the idea of letting go. Their brief moment of effortless flirtation had made her heart race again, everything else but his deep scent and the burn of his touch on her hip fading away. So she kept drinking to stifle how pathetically desperate she felt, finding the way she was almost ready to beg for him to take her.

“Were you a horse girl?” Andrew asked, snapping her attention back to his suddenly.

“What does that mean?” she laughed, feigning insult as she clutched her chest, though intrigued by how his mind was working.

“Somehow you look like, em, you were fascinated by horses at some point of your life…” he laughed, “I don’t know, maybe it’s in your hair?”

“My hair? What’s so horse-y about my hair?” she laughed back, “Are you implying I have a mane, Andrew?”

“Oh, no, no, I just…” he shook his head, now worried he had actually offended her.

“I’m just joking” she watched her assurance soothe him then nodded quickly in confirmation, picking up and finishing the contents of her Sex on the Beach, “I wanted one, but I never had one.”

“So you never had a ride?” he winked, licking along his lip, unable to resist.

“Not for a while” she sighed back quickly, the fire to fight him with her own suggestiveness building again. She raised her eyebrow and watched him prepare himself as he shifted forward in his seat, “not a good one anyway.” 

Andrew swallowed hard, chuckling at the way they could never resist playing their little games with each other. Her lips were pouty as she smiled at him confidently and he found himself amused by the lipstick mark on her second almost drained glass, making a note to try and work it into a lyric somehow in the future.

“Em, tell me something you’ve never told me about…” he drawled, finishing his drink prematurely, the rich taste of liquor in his mouth only increasing his curiosity about her.

“Oh there’s so many things you don’t know about me” she told him, leaning forward on her palm.

“Give me a couple then.”

“I’m afraid of jellyfish…” she announced.

“Really?” he laughed, his nose wrinkling as she continued to speak.

“I can sleep anywhere. Used to take gymnastics as a kid.”

“Flexible” he noted in a way that only made her speak quicker to ignore his comment.

“Love Vietnamese food and I’m pretty good at making it.”

He nodded, licking his lips, taken off guard by her next question.

“Your turn…”

“I don’t know what to tell you, love” he mumbled, scratching underneath his jaw with his index finger, “em… there’s nothing really that interesting.”

“How rich are you?” she spat in response, giggling immediately afterwards at the audacity of her question. 

Andrew’s eyes widened, thankful he didn’t have his mouthful.

“How rich am I?” he repeated back at her, raising his eyebrows. 

Her question didn’t really shock him, she was always straightforward when possessed with an idea or something she needed the answer to, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it. “Well, em, the Internet says I’m worth $6 million.” 

“Is that true?” she replied, eyes wide as she finished her second cocktail.

“I don’t know, is it?” he smirked.

Flo rolled her eyes at how difficult he was being. Andrew leant back in his chair with a deep chuckle, staring at their empty glasses. She caught onto his eye line, the lack of drink in front of them when they were both secretly trying to make each other cave seriously alarming. He was already feeling a little light headed from his one overly expensive drink, the pressure of the day and the beauty sitting opposite him leaving him with a thirst he needed to quench just to feel a sense of balance. She was about to open her mouth to push him further on the previous conversation, wanting him to share more of himself with her, but Andrew was already speaking again in an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“What now?” he asked, his eyes grazing over Flo’s impatient face. 

“Tequila shots” she replied without falter or hesitation, as if it were foolish of him to even ask.

Andrew pulled a face of disgust and discontent at the idea, shaking his head.

“I don’t usually-”

“I don’t usually do any of the things we’ve done this weekend” she replied, cutting him off so that he couldn’t argue with her then began counting on her fingers: “Karaoke. Skinny dipping. Running away from wild boars. Tree climbing. Smoking. Jacuzzi…” 

Flo stopped herself from talking though the list was endless, too eager for more, to lose her inhibitions fully, to let her mask of complete control slip so that she could let him in again. She cleared her throat dramatically, reached into her bag for her card then stood from the table, pointing one finger at him.

“Mister Andrew Hozier Byrne, you’re doing tequila shots with me.”

He opened his mouth in protest but his lips curled upwards instead, the need to fulfill her every wish prevailing.

“Are you sure you can handle, em, all of those mixed alcohol consumption, love?”

“We’ll see” she mumbled, already on her way to the bar.

Tuesday, 8:15pm

Unable to keep her eyes from tracing the outline of her body, Andrew adjusted his chair slightly and watched her draping herself over the bar as she ordered more drinks, watched her laughing, watched her charisma exude as she flirted back and forth with the bartender. He shook the ridiculous feeling of jealousy from his mind and tried instead not to lose control each time her ass wiggled, her hips shook, the way she dragged out each movement as she pointed at various bottles was so addictive. Part of him knew she was putting on act for him and he knew he was playing right into her hands by being so attentive to it, but he couldn’t resist, the bite on his lip hard when she looked back over her shoulder and caught him staring at her, half of her plump lips turned up in satisfaction. 

When she returned moments later, the bartender followed her over with a tray. She sat down, still wearing a satisfied grin at the way Andrew was watching her.

“Of fuck…” he breathed as the bartender placed three shots in front of them both then nodded to the man before he could walk away.

Flo watched him staring at each of the tiny glasses for a moment, a laugh breaking through her at his serious expression.

“Are they all the same?” he asked, looking up at her briefly.

Flo shook her head and pointed to each in turn as she spoke.

“Vodka. Sambuca. Tequila.”

“Bloody hell, love…” he breathed again, shaking his head at her in bewilderment.

“I know… it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a very bad idea…” he confirmed.

“Vodka first?” she giggled.

“Alright” he nodded, carefully taking his glass between his index finger and thumb, shakily narrowing his eyes at the clear liquid. She lifted her own glass and brought it to his with a minute ringing sound.

“To you” she decided grandly, wetting her lips in preparation.

“To me?” he mumbled back, locking her gaze.

“Yeah - for everything you’ve done so far for me” she continued sincerely, “I’ve had the best two days with you, Andy, and the week hasn’t ended yet.”

“Awww, Flo…” he cooed, his smile wide and unparalleled by any other in the room, “It was a pleasure.”

They both nodded in silent confirmation then brought the glasses to their lips, tipping the contents back and wincing instantly.

“Lemon?” he groaned, his eyes fluttering in shock as he tried to open his mouth to speak properly. He shook out the aftershock of the strong spirit.

“Yep” she gasped, bringing the empty glass back down with a thud, prompting him to do the same.

Flo clearly didn’t need as much time to recover, she was already picking up the next glass and Andrew quickly scrambled to do the same, not wanting her to leave him behind.

“This one’s for you then,” he drawled quickly, nodding towards her, “For being, em, so delightful. And for putting up with my shite personality.”

“Andrew-” she laughed.

“And for being an absolute stunner” he added, lips pouty as he rested the glass against them. 

Flo giggled back timidly, trying not to read too much into his words then quickly brought the glass to her own lips.

“Bleughhh…” he shuddered as soon as he’d swallowed the aniseed flavoured liqueur, Flo’s laugh struggling to make its way out as she made a similar noise, face screwing up, “That was fucking terrible.”

She nodded, eyebrows raised dramatically then blinked herself back to the room to grab the last one. 

“Tequila” she sang off-key, mocking the famous tune. Andrew laughed then rested his glass against hers for a moment, “Who’s this for then?” she asked.

“Us” he told her convincingly, his accent thick as he allowed himself to get lost in the green of her eyes, “Flo and Andy, Andy and Flo…”

Flo’s breath hitched in her throat. He was looking at her with so much warmth, so intent to what she needed to hear without ever having to ask for it. She wasn’t ready for that to be over. And now that she allowed herself a moment to stop repressing her feelings, she couldn’t stand the thought of never knowing what he looked like in the morning, of never finding out how he’d react to her touches when they were less than innocent, of never knowing what he kissed like when he didn’t have to hold back. But most of all, she wasn’t ready to be Flo without Andy, and had grown so accustomed to both him and the person he prompted her to be. She didn’t want it all to fade, didn’t want Flo and Andy, Andy and Flo to be in the past.

“To us” she mumbled, her throat dry.

“To us” he repeated back.

With one last look of lust and frustration and everything they couldn’t say - they threw their drinks back with a synchronized flair each reeling from the strength of the tequila.

Flo managed to swallow the burning liquid, but her legs were like jelly, hands flat on the table to steady herself. Her head was dizzied from the things she was feeling and struggling to process along with the alcohol working its way into her bloodstream. Andrew smacked his lips together as he shook the tequila from his system. 

“Andrew, love?” she purred with an excitable grin, only stopping when she saw his confused expression, “What?” she shrugged, “You call me love all the time so I think it’s only fair…”

He nodded, laughing at her ridiculousness. 

Tuesday, 8:30pm 

Her breath caught in her throat, scared to so much as breathe as they stepped inside, acting as orderly as she could muster. Her head felt light as she tried to focus on anything but Andrew. He was leant against the wall opposite her, watching her intently, could sense the way she was holding herself and didn’t like it. Her entire body was rigid and tense, her shoulders locked, gaze pinned to the floor as soon as he tried to meet it.

Andrew let out a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair, his nose wrinkling as he shut out thoughts of having Flo in the way he wanted. With the most subtle movement he could, he pressed the button for her floor, watched it light up with a yellow glow and watched the doors close. As soon as the doors were closed Flo felt the claustrophobia creeping up on her. The silence was thick and unbearable. They both recalled how close they were again. So close. They were so close so many times.

Andrew couldn’t stand the nothingness now, the complete contrast, the vast opportunity for so much to be said and done that was being repulsively wasted by their wary reluctance to cave for the things they knew they both wanted. He stared at the paneled wall above her head, his feet, the ceiling and then he found her face again, drawn to her features like a magnet.

“Flo…” he sighed. She didn’t grace him with a look, kept her eyes anywhere but his face as she processed the shock deep in her bones that she was losing control. They sailed the floors slowly, time dragging out the inevitable.

Then, letting go of the remainder of his own control, Andrew strode forward, finally closing the gap between them, her body backing against the wall of the lift. His hands found her face again without apology, the curve of her jaw slotting perfectly into his palm and though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him for fear she’d combust under his warm gaze, she leant into it like it was natural, unable to fight herself. Her own hands were pressing against his warm abdomen and though she couldn’t actually remember reaching out to touch him, his shirt was now bunched up in her grip. She bit her lip hard as she stared at her hands, the concentration it took not to fall forward into him making her feel dizzy. He was dangerously close to her now and she shook her head at the impossibility of the situation, trying to ignore the way his cologne surrounded her, the inebriating warmth of his body, the way he was cradling her face between his hands.

“Flo…” he purred repetitively.

She lifted her eyes quickly to his, the comforting muddy green she found there melting her entirely and she had just about managed to catch her breath before Andrew’s lips were on hers, stealing away her every thought with the way he moved them.

Her whole body hummed instantly with electricity, caught off guard, on edge, her head telling her how wrong it was but a second later she was sighing with relief, her body curving into his and she couldn’t fight it. His lips were chapped but warm and he worked them over hers like he dreamt of it and had had practice. It had barely begun and already it was better than she allowed herself to imagine it, the images she formed over and over in her head every time he came too close or made her feel the same level of ecstasy she was now sailing in nothing compared to the way he was taking care of her every need right now.

His hands slipped down to the sides of her neck to keep her close, instantly needing more from her, willing to give it all in return if she’d let him and her head rapped against the wall as he stepped further into her. Her lips tasted sweet, like champagne bubbles and decadence and he allowed himself as much as he could possibly get, so lost in her, already aware of the moment slipping away beneath his finger tips.

Then he suddenly remembered who he was, who she was, what he was doing - and flinched away abruptly, his lips leaving hers painfully, slightly hung open in shock. His hands trembled a little at the sides of her neck, his eyebrows creasing as he pulled away with a look of genuine hurt, terrified he’d made a mistake again.

[hauntingoldhouses]

what we're supposed to do with all his friends around?

[contentloadinggg]

Insane, Baby - Hozier Drabble

Author’s Note: I have no words for this fic. Just, I can’t. It just a spew of horny nonsense.

Summary: Me making Andrew feral. That’s it. (Genderneutral!Reader) (~200 words)

Warnings: Smut, but like, not very explicit smut, possessive Andrew, one dialogue line of dirty talk, unbeta read and generally just a word vomit.

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Fic Under the Cut❤️ 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

Andrew wasn’t insane, he wasn’t. But that was so hard to remember when he was on top of you. Struggling so hard to control himself. Grunting and practically growling in your ear. His hips meet yours in another, nearly brutal thrust. His fingers grip your waist hard enough to leave bruises. He’ll kiss over them later, apologizing as he showers you with his affection. He’ll shove down the beast that stirs inside of him. In the depths of his stomach. It purrs at the sight of you marked as his so tangably. 

He buries his face into the crook of your neck. The scent of your combined arousal filling his nose. Andrew can’t help himself. Lapping up the glistening sweat on your neck. Groaning at the taste of your skin before sinking his teeth into it. Using them to pull and turn your skin red. 

His panting brushes over your cheek as he whispers into your ear. His voice rough and thickened with his accent. A side of Andrew nobody else gets to see.

“Just want you to be all mine, all mine. I need you.”

The words are hot against your skin. Just like his front against you. Sweat slick between your bodies. 

Andrew isn’t insane. He isn’t. But he forgets who he is with you and that’s who’s insane.

I’m crazy, but I’m free.

Oh, expect the Valentine’s Fic to actually be on time. :)

-Thad💚

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Please write another dating Hozier headcannon!

a/n: OMG i did not expect the first one to get so much love, thank you SO MUCH! Sorry this one is a bit shorter but I hope you like it either way :) 

Here’s part 1 in case you missed it btw

I feel like your relationship would be private but not secret

Like he probably puts a picture of you in some of his concert posts on instagram or brings you along to some festivals or events as his date

Maybe even small and casual mentions of you during interviews, like “yeah, me and my partner did this the other day” or “my partner really likes that…” He’s obsessed with you i fear

You would be spotted pretty often at his shows just singing along and having a good time with your/his friends. He would for sure be looking at you the whole show just so happy to have you there and would occasionally wave or blow you kisses

I don't know why but I love the idea of him teaching you about bees and giving you small updates about his hives and any new additions he’s made. 

He’d love to teach you how to play the guitar (if you can’t already) and just sits behind you while guiding your fingers in the correct places to play one of his songs or one of your favourite songs

And he would definitely get so excited for you if you manage to learn even just two chords and play them without his help

If you already know how to play the guitar, he would ask you to play him so many songs and just admire you the entire time you do but completely deny the fact that his loving stare is distracting you

He truly values cozying up together in bed or on the couch and having deep and meaningful conversations about anything and everything that is on your mind that day whether it is something that is bothering you and you need to vent to him about or if it is just about a new tv show you just watched

This man loves cuddling you and will never pass one up, even if he is in the middle of doing something he will either stop and snuggle up with you for a while or continue what he is doing if it’s important but hold you close to his chest while he tries to finish up faster

He would get so excited after reading a new book or poem and would immediately want to show it to you or talk to you about it, especially if it reminds him of you or your relationship. He would not hesitate to read to you if you wanted, even at night if you ever have trouble sleeping and just want to hear his voice

He does not shy away from showering you with compliments, for example, if you are trying out some new clothes for an event, party or a date, he would be endlessly telling you how good you look and would not be able to take his eyes off of you the whole time

He loves to call you pet names like darling or honey at all times even if you are arguing and especially if you haven’t seen each other in a long time

Speaking of arguments, they would get resolved so quickly. He just can’t stay mad at you and would feel terrible even after you two have made up, so expect a lot of kisses to make it up to you

He would also never yell at you during these arguments and would keep calm throughout it, knowing that shouting doesn't fix things any quicker

Since he is so tall, he would love to kiss the top of your head or your forehead on a daily basis

Especially at night, like this man will not go to sleep unless he gives you a soft peck on your forehead