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fics-not-tragedies · 2 months ago

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In a Week: Chapter 24 🌲

Words: 3617; Warnings: none, unless you want one for drinking alcohol and another one a bit of spicy talk then you have them; Summary: Rooftop escape that melts the tension between those two.

Hozier tag list:

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

Wednesday, 7am

When Andrew woke up the next morning, no solid plan had been formed, no grasp on reality maintained—only the pounding ache in his head and the lingering truth that, amidst everything else that had unfolded, he hadn’t kissed Flo.

His mouth was parched, his hair a wild tangle, and the array of empty mini-bar bottles on the bedside table had served as a glaring reminder of the indulgence that had taken place. Piecing together the fragmented memories of the night required more effort than he had the patience for, but once clarity returned, it left him reeling. With a groan, Andrew rolled over in the bed, unwilling to succumb to self-pity. He frantically searched for his cigarettes, his coat getting patted down and tossed aside in frustration until the pack was finally retrieved. Lighting one on the balcony, he raked his unkempt hair back and took long, deliberate drags, the smoke doing little to settle the unease gnawing at his thoughts.

But the memory of her reaction struck him hardest. The pain etched in her expression as he pulled away haunted him. The awkward silence of the elevator, her retreat to the opposite wall to avoid his proximity, and her refusal to meet his gaze had etched themselves into his memory like scars. Walking her to her hotel door, offering nothing but a weak, forced smile before saying goodnight, had left him hollow. The nagging suspicion that he'd misjudged the situation or, worse, made her regret it consumed him entirely.

Yet, in the midst of his torment, another truth lingered: how undeniable the connection had felt, if only for those few suspended seconds. Her laughter, her vibrant presence. Andrew was certain she would have kissed him back with the same need that had overwhelmed him, her response filled with the same raw longing.

But the practical reality loomed. Tomorrow night, a world would separate them again—him on stage, pouring his soul into music as though nothing had happened, while the weight of their moment hung heavily in the spaces in between.

The cigarette burned down to a nub before he snuffed it out with swift finality, heading straight for the shower. Water pounded against his skin as his hands scrubbed at his face, the need to clear his head outweighing all else. After drying off hastily, Andrew drowned himself in cologne, though his red-rimmed eyes and persistent yawns betrayed the restless night. Clothes were pulled on with little care—a worn pair of black jeans and a burgundy shirt that he fumbled to button with shaking fingers. Grabbing his jean jacket, he threw it over his shoulders and rushed out the door, the urgency to see her eclipsing everything else.

Wednesday, 7:30am

The hotel restaurant was quiet, the gentle clinking of cutlery and soft hum of muted conversation filling the air. Andrew spotted Flo immediately, seated near the window, her fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. The sunlight poured in behind her, framing her in a golden halo that made his breath catch. She was wearing a loose, cream-colored sweater that fell off one shoulder, her hair casually pinned back, though a few stray strands escaped. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and for a moment, she looked so serene that he nearly turned back, unwilling to disturb her peace.

But she noticed him before he could retreat. Her gaze snapped to his, her posture stiffening slightly, though she quickly hid it behind a small smile. It wasn’t the same smile that had lit up her face the night before, the one that made him feel invincible, but it wasn’t entirely guarded either. He took it as a lifeline and crossed the room, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

"Morning," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he pulled out the chair across from her.

"Morning," she replied softly, her fingers tightening around her cup. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Andrew focused on the menu in front of him, though the words blurred together. The silence between them stretched, taut and uneasy.

Finally, Flo broke it. "You look like you didn’t sleep."

Andrew huffed a laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. "Is it that obvious?" He attempted to smile, but it faltered under her steady gaze.

She tilted her head, studying him. "You were thinking too much, weren’t you?"

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. "Caught me." The confession felt heavier than it should have, and he wondered if she could hear the tension in his voice.

The server arrived then, sparing them from the thick quiet that had returned. Andrew ordered coffee and whatever the special was, barely registering what the server said in response. When they were alone again, Flo finally set her cup down, her fingertips lingering on the porcelain.

"So," Andrew started, resting his forearms on the table, "em, how are you feeling?"

Flo raised an eyebrow at the question, her lips curving in a faint, almost teasing smile. "Are you asking if I have a headache or if I'm still reeling from last night?"

Andrew winced but chuckled, appreciating her directness. "Maybe both."

She sipped her coffee, her eyes flicking to the view outside for a moment before returning to him. "I'm fine," she said, but the way her fingers toyed with the edge of the napkin on the table suggested otherwise. "And you?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his still-damp hair. "I’ve had better mornings, to be honest."

Their breakfast arrived before either could say more, plates of eggs and toast and fruit that neither seemed entirely interested in. They picked at their food in silence, the quiet punctuated by clinking cutlery and the occasional murmur of conversation from other tables.

Andrew stole glances at her, unable to help himself. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept well, but there was something else in her expression—a hesitation, maybe, or a question she wasn’t ready to ask.

"I've been, em, thinking about last night," he said suddenly, his voice quieter now, careful. Flo’s hand froze mid-reach for her coffee, and she looked at him, her eyes cautious.

"Yeah?" she said, and he could hear the unsteady edge in her tone.

Andrew nodded, searching for the right words. "I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re wondering. But... I think I might have screwed things up."

Her brows knit together in confusion, and for a moment, her guard slipped. "Screwed things up how?"

He hesitated, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at the back of his neck. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I just... I feel like I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do."

Flo set her cup down with a soft clink and leaned forward slightly, her gaze intent. "You didn’t hurt me, Andrew," she said firmly, her voice low but steady. "It’s complicated, sure, but... I’m not hurt. I promise."

The relief that washed over him was instant, though it didn’t erase the tension still coiled between them. He nodded, letting her words sink in, but the question that lingered in his mind refused to go unspoken.

"Then, em, what now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Flo looked down at her plate, the faintest flush creeping up her neck. "I don’t know," she admitted after a moment, her fingers resuming their nervous play with the napkin. "But I don’t want to pretend nothing happened."

The honesty in her words, in her voice, struck him deeply. He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers, unsure if he should take the risk. At the last second, he hesitated and pulled back, his fingers curling into his palm instead.

Wednesday, 9am

The remnants of breakfast lay forgotten on the table, coffee cups drained and plates barely touched. Andrew leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers idly against the edge of the table as he studied Flo across from him. The awkwardness had begun to ebb away, replaced by a quiet ease he hadn’t anticipated.

"We’ve got the whole day ahead, so, em," he said finally, tilting his head. "What do you want to do?"

Flo looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. "In a hotel like this? Isn’t the better question, what don’t we want to do?"

Andrew chuckled, pushing his chair back slightly. "True. They’ve got, em, what—a spa, a gym, some sort of escape room thing, and…" He trailed off, glancing at the brochure sitting on the corner of the table. "Oh, a rooftop pool. That could be something."

Flo’s eyes lit up at the mention of the pool, the way they always did when she was excited about an idea but trying to keep it casual. "A rooftop pool? Sounds swanky. Is it heated?"

Andrew smirked. "Only one way to find out."

Her smile widened, and for a moment, the tension between them seemed to dissipate entirely. "Alright, you’ve sold me," she said, pushing her chair back and standing. "But if we’re doing this, I want a proper poolside drink. Fancy umbrellas and all."

"Deal," Andrew said, rising to his feet. "But don’t blame me if I’m terrible at lounging. It’s not exactly my strong suit."

Flo laughed softly, looping her bag over her shoulder. "We’ll see about that. You might surprise yourself."

They left the restaurant together, the air between them lighter than it had been all morning. As they walked toward the elevator, Andrew caught glimpses of her out of the corner of his eye—how relaxed she looked, how natural it felt to be here with her.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. Andrew leaned casually against the mirrored wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "You know," he said, glancing sideways at her, "I don’t think I’ve been in a rooftop pool since… well, ever."

Flo raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Ever? You mean I get to be part of your first rooftop pool experience?"

"Looks like it," he said, his tone playful. "Make it a good one, yeah?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No pressure then."

Wednesday, 9:30am

When the elevator dinged at his floors, they parted ways briefly to grab their swimwear. Andrew walked quickly down the hallway, his mind buzzing with a peculiar mix of nerves and excitement. Once inside his room, he hesitated for a beat, staring at his open suitcase as though it might somehow hold the answers to what exactly he was feeling. He tossed a pair of trunks and a towel onto the bed, but his hands lingered as he picked up a tattered paperback he’d been meaning to finish for weeks. It felt symbolic somehow—a small gesture of hope that this might be one of those rare, quiet moments where he could let his guard down, with her beside him.

He shoved everything into a bag, pausing only to glance at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still a little damp from his earlier shower, and he noticed the faintest shadow of circles under his eyes. He raked a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to tame it, then stopped, letting out a breathy laugh. It wasn’t about how he looked, not really—it was about the prospect of spending time with Flo, of sharing something as simple and yet oddly intimate as lounging by a pool together.

There was something about the idea—not just the novelty of a rooftop pool, but the promise of an unhurried moment with her—that made his heart race and his thoughts spiral. It wasn’t just anticipation; it was the reckless hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be one of those memories they’d both hold onto. Something uncomplicated and perfect in its simplicity, untouched by the weight of what had been unsaid between them. He slung the bag over his shoulder, grabbed his room key, and headed for the door, unable to shake the nervous thrill coursing through him.

Wednesday, 9:35am

When the elevator dinged at her floor, Flo offered Andrew a quick smile before heading to her room. Her steps were measured, but her heart raced in a way that betrayed her calm exterior. As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly. It was just a trip to the pool, she reminded herself. A chance to relax, to enjoy the view. But the flutter in her chest told her it was more than that—this was time with him, in a space where they could let the world fade away.

She crossed to her suitcase, unzipping it with deliberate care. Her fingers brushed over the folded fabric of her swimsuit, a soft sage-green piece that she’d brought on a whim. She hesitated, holding it up to inspect it as though the choice of swimwear might set the tone for whatever was about to happen. Deciding quickly, she placed it into a small bag along with a towel and a pair of oversized sunglasses, hoping they might shield at least some of her nerves.

Flo turned to her reflection in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her hair and fidgeting with the loose strands that framed her face. Her expression betrayed her inner dialogue—a mix of anticipation and caution, excitement and disbelief that this morning had somehow unfolded the way it had. The idea of the pool felt impossibly indulgent, not just because of its rooftop view but because of who she’d be sharing it with. There was something thrilling about it, the prospect of stepping out of the ordinary and into a moment that could be uniquely theirs.

She slung the bag over her shoulder, catching her own gaze in the mirror one last time before shaking her head with a soft smile. Whatever happened next, she wasn’t going to overthink it. Flo grabbed her room key and headed for the door, a quiet thrill coursing through her as she imagined the hours ahead.

Wednesday, 10:15am

When they reunited by the rooftop entrance, Flo was already dressed for the occasion, a flowy cover-up over her swimsuit and oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. She grinned at him as they stepped onto the deck, the view taking both of them by surprise.

The rooftop was an oasis in the sky, framed by glass walls that offered panoramic views of the city below. The pool shimmered in the late-morning sun, its clear surface dotted with a few other hotel guests. Lounge chairs lined the deck, and a small bar nestled in the corner promised the kind of indulgence Flo had insisted upon.

"Wow," she said softly, pulling off her sunglasses to get a better look. "This is… pretty incredible."

Andrew nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "You’ve got, em, good taste."

She turned to him, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Race you to the pool?"

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then he grinned, tossing his bag onto a nearby chair. "Oh, you’re on."

Without waiting for a response, she bolted, her laughter ringing out like music as it bounced off the walls of the hotel. Her feet barely touched the floor as she darted toward the pool, the sun catching the gleam in her eyes and the effortless grace of her movements. The sound of her laughter was infectious, a carefree melody that spurred Andrew into action, his heart picking up its pace as he watched her disappear toward the shimmering water ahead.

For a brief moment, he hesitated, caught between the urge to let her go and the need to follow her—to chase the spark she always seemed to ignite in him. But it was only a second before he pushed off from the edge of the rooftop lounge and ran after her, his own laughter bubbling up as he caught sight of her teasing glance over her shoulder. She was already ahead, but the playful energy between them created a magnetic pull that tugged him toward her, urging him to close the distance.

With each step, the tension from earlier that morning melted away, the weight of the world slipping from their shoulders as they moved toward the pool's glistening surface. They were no longer burdened by expectations, by the complicated moments that lingered between them—their connection, now, was pure and uncomplicated, driven by nothing more than the joy of the chase and the thrill of the moment.

The sound of water lapping against the pool’s edge greeted them as they reached it, and Andrew felt the cool breeze of the open air against his skin. In that instant, the world felt smaller, simpler, and everything—every hesitant thought, every question—faded into the background. They had reached a place where nothing else mattered except the shared laughter and the feeling of freedom that came with it. The rooftop pool was more than just a pool now—it was a space where time had slowed, where they were just two people, enjoying a rare, unburdened moment together.

Wednesday, 10:30am

As they both neared the edge of the pool, Andrew grinned, his breath quickening from the exhilaration of the chase. Flo was already standing at the water's edge, her back to him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She glanced back over her shoulder just as Andrew reached her, eyes sparkling with a challenge.

"You’re too slow," she teased, her voice a mix of laughter and breathless triumph.

Andrew couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, you’re not going to get away with that forever," he warned, stepping closer, still feeling the rush from the sprint. But his words were playful, light. There was no tension now—no unspoken weight between them. Just the easy rhythm of their connection, pulsing like the beat of their laughter.

Flo stepped back, dipping one foot into the pool, her toes skimming the cool surface of the water. "Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m winning so far," she said, eyes flashing with mischief as she playfully splashed some water in his direction.

"Hey!" Andrew jumped back instinctively, raising his arms to shield himself, but he was already laughing. "That’s how you want to play it, huh?"

"Always," she replied, grinning widely, before she stepped into the water, fully submerging herself with a graceful dive.

Andrew watched her disappear below the surface, the ripples spreading out like waves in a calm sea. The brief moment of stillness left him with an unexpected feeling of anticipation. He didn’t hesitate for long before following her, diving in with a smooth, fluid motion, cutting through the water to catch up with her.

When he resurfaced, he was met by her laughter again, as she was already floating on her back, eyes closed to the sky. The sun was lower now, casting a warm glow over the rooftop, and the city stretched out beneath them in every direction—vast and alive. He moved closer to her, his body lazily drifting in the water beside hers.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the city, distant but persistent, hummed in the background, while the water enveloped them in a quiet cocoon of shared space. Flo’s laughter, the soft splashes as they both gently paddled, the faint breeze moving through the air—it was all part of the serene atmosphere, a calm after the flurry of their playful chase.

"Alright," Andrew said after a long, comfortable pause, breaking the silence but keeping his tone easy. "What do you think? We’ve earned this, right, em?"

Flo opened her eyes and smiled lazily, her arms outstretched to let the water carry her. "Definitely," she agreed. "I think we’ve earned a few more moments like this."

They floated there together for a while, just enjoying the simple pleasure of the water, the sky, the space between them where nothing needed to be said. It was as though everything outside of that moment had faded into nothing, and it was just the two of them, drifting on the calm of the rooftop pool, content in the peace they’d found together.

For Andrew, it felt like an oasis. The worries that had clung to him earlier, the unsaid words, the lingering questions—they seemed miles away, lost in the warmth of the afternoon sun and the easy, unspoken connection that had quietly settled between them. It was a rare kind of peace. A peacefulness he hadn’t known he’d been craving until now.

"You’re quiet," Flo said softly, her voice pulling him back from his thoughts. She had tilted her head toward him, her eyes searching his face with a touch of curiosity. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Andrew smiled, tilting his head back to glance at the clear sky above, allowing the moment to linger just a bit longer. "Just... thinking how, em, lucky I am to be here with you."

Flo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "Is that so?"

He met her gaze, his expression open, sincere. "Yeah," he said, his voice low but firm. "This... this, em, feels like the start of something good."

The air seemed to still for a heartbeat as Flo’s gaze softened. She nodded, just a little, as though accepting the truth of his words. "I think so, too," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper, as if she didn’t want to break the fragile magic of the moment.

And with that, they stayed, floating in the water, basking in the quiet joy of the rooftop pool, where nothing existed but the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the water, and the unspoken promise of something more to come.

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anxiousnightmare · 3 months ago

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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!

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne fanfiction #andrew hozier byrne x oc #hozier x oc #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fluff #request #requests open #hozier smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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beat-the-morning · 1 year ago

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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.”

#hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier smut #hozier x reader #mornfic #andrew hozier byrne

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beetboxx · 4 months ago

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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.”

#beetboxx beatboxes #hozier x reader #hozier #hozier fanfiction #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fluff #hozier x reader fluff #good gods save me #i am just a girl #andrew hozier byrne #andrew hozier-byrne x reader

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nevergonnaloveagain-hey · 9 months ago

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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!!

#hozier #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #andrew hozier byrne x reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier headcannon #hozier fluff #hozier x you #hozier x y/n

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mabelstone · 9 months ago

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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

#hozier #hozier smut #andrew hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier fanfiction

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man-i-love-fanfiction · 3 months ago

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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.

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.

#hozier #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #writing #fanfic #writeblr #writers on tumblr #divider #to share the space with simple living things

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sunlight-fics · 10 months ago

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

#hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfiction #the hoziest #hozier #he needs a hug #i love him #can someone #hug him #?!?!?!

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 months ago

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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.”

#hozier #the hoziest #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #fanfiction #the profound pleasure of little things

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daddyhausen · 11 months ago

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｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡「 PEARL ROSARY 」｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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

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

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 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

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

「 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 」

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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”

｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡｡･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#hozier x reader #hozier smut #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier #andrew hozier byrne

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padfootagain · 7 months ago

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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’

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Chapter 47: ‘To whom I owe the leaping delight that quickens my senses in our wakingtime and the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime’

Chapter 48 : ‘It’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee nuzzling like that into the blouse of the rose’

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

Chapter 50 : ‘And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.’

Chapter 51 : ‘Here begins a new life’

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier fanfiction #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier series #hozier fic #hozier masterlist #masterlist #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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fics-not-tragedies · 2 months ago

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In a Week: Chapter 23 🌲

Words: 2151; Warnings: none, unless you want one for drinking alcohol and another one a bit of spicy talk then you have them; Summary: Unspoken emotions and yearning swirling against the backdrop of a stormy night.

Hozier tag list:

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

Tuesday, 8:40pm

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” he sighed, out of breath, forehead coming to rest against hers, eyes tightly shut, “I’m sorry” he repeated, not having found the strength to let go of her yet.

His mind contradicted him over and over, needing more, but knowing the danger if he spent a moment longer with his mouth on hers. He moved his nose a half centimeter and it brushed against her forehead. Flo let out a small laugh, something nondescript which made his heart pound illogically. Though he was struggling to keep his breathing under control, the heavenly noise bubbling in her throat brought him back to the room. He shook his head and kept his eyes shut so he didn’t have to face what he just did.

“Look at me” she demanded, though her voice was shakier than she intended.

Andrew couldn’t resist her command and opened his eyes into hers once more, his hands dropping from her to fall by his sides. They were an intense emerald green, wide, searching for something in his perfect face, his anguished features then at last settling on his lips. She tried to process the fact that they’d just been on hers again, how good it had felt, how familiar it was and how she hadn’t wanted it to stop.

This was her cue - she had made herself a compromise, a deal, a promise.

And Flo didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep.

“Andrew, I want you…” she stated, her lips curling with sheer joy at the relief of admitting it out loud at last.

Andrew stared back at her blankly, eyebrows twisted in confusion, like he either hadn’t heard her or had blacked out entirely.

“I need you” she added.

Her whole body was trembling with the fear of the unprecedented, but she didn’t waste a second longer wallowing in insecurity, propelled herself forward with her desire, moved onto her tiptoes and brought his face down to hers. Her hands curled into his hair and before he could form a response, she was kissing him back.

It was slow at first, unfamiliar, alien for her to be the initiator and it took a while for Andrew to even react but when he did, he moved his mouth against hers with a fervid determination. He tried to resist it, he really tried, but he didn’t want to try anymore, so fed up of trying that when he allowed himself to give into his desire fully, a loud moan fell from his lips and made her shudder. It was a moan of both relief and astonishment, that only made her more ravenous for him.

Her hands quickly found their way inside his jacket, roaming his chest, trying to push it off him, worried if she slowed down that he would too. His hands found her hips again, digging tightly into her to pull her against his body, needing her closer, needing more than he’d already been blessed with.

It was hungrier, open mouthed and desperate this time, his lips searing her mouth with each movement. His tongue danced with hers effortlessly, his breath hot at the back of her throat as he clutched at her dress, needing it off already. As he undid the top two buttons to expose her chest, Andrew was unable to collect a single thought, form a simple sentence, or find a string of words that could summarize the complexity of how he felt.

Neither of them had noticed the lift doors peeling open, the ding as they arrived at her floor and only pulled away when they were both struggling to breathe, hearts pounding in sync. Flo was completely enthralled by the entranced look he was giving her, truly addicted to the giggle shaking against her mouth as he pecked her lips again, the way his fingers had knotted in her hair. He ran a thumb over her lips, swollen from the intensity of their kiss, so overwhelmed when she sunk into his touch gladly, wide eyes following his every movement. Andrew was failing completely to hold himself together now he had a taste of his Flo like he had.

“Are you sure?” he mumbled, shrugging out of his jacket as she pushed it off properly for him, holding it in one of his fists which he pushed against the bottom of her spine to keep her pressed against him, the knuckles digging into her in a way that only excited her. Like flicking a switch, Flo allowed herself to let go fully, every worry she had pushed to the back of her mind and it felt too good. She nodded for a while, caught in the darkness of his eyes before she managed to reply with a breathless: “Yes.”

Andrew nodded in both relief and disbelief, his whole body exhaling with need for her, the idea of fulfilling every desire and fantasy he had since he’d first laid eyes on her threatening to tear him apart. He smiled widely before pulling her against him for one last quick kiss, one that left her wanting so much more, her entire body trembling, longing for her cravings to be satisfied at last.

Then Andrew pulled Flo out of the lift into a certain promise of oblivion.

Wednesday, 2am

It was clear to her now that she dreamt the ending of their evening. She hoped he would kiss her while they were riding the elevator in silence, her claustrophobia acting up on her again, but he didn’t and it broke her heart somehow, even though she knew it was a really wrong thing to do.

Andrew knew it too and he was struggling, standing close to the opposite wall, weighing the options he had. He could end the evening like he did the first time, simply walking her to the doors of her room, then leaving her with a heartfelt ‘goodnight’. Or he could risk it all, wrap his arms around her, press her close to his chest, feel the warmth of her body mixed with the scent of her perfumes, then smash his lips with her, his beard tickling her face, his kiss leaving her breathless.

He did neither of them, all he did was letting her walk out of the lift when it stopped at the second floor and silently he watched her walk through the carpeted hallway, until the doors didn’t close with a heavy thud and he flew up to his floor.

Flo was laying on her bed now, wide awake, her body wrapped in the sheets like she was a part of renaissance painting.

In the quiet corners of our lives, there are emotions that defy the constraints of language. And she knew that last night was one of those moments, the kind that begs for silence, where words fall short, and you find yourself in the embrace of an indescribable feeling. In those instances, it's almost as if the universe whispers, urging you to let those emotions be, to revel in their entirety.

Picture a scene bathed in the warm hues of sunset, where time seems to pause, allowing them to absorb every detail. The air is filled with a fragrance that words cannot capture, and their heartbeat synchronizes with the rhythm of the moment. Each breath feels like a sacred dance with the universe, and every passing second is a precious gem.

In the midst of this profound experience, there's a reluctance to tarnish its purity with the mundane. The idea of slapping a label on it or dissecting it with an explanation feels trivial, almost sacrilegious. So, they let it linger, untainted and untouched, relishing its unspoken beauty.

Yet, now, in the silent acceptance of these feelings lies a dilemma. How does she deal with the aftermath now?

The rain outside the window intensified, a rhythmic symphony of nature's percussion gradually building to a crescendo. What began as delicate droplets evolved into a torrential downpour, as if the heavens had unleashed a cascade of emotions upon the world. The sky wept unabashedly, each raindrop a tiny storyteller carrying tales of the heavens.

Yet, she remained cocooned within the sanctuary of her hotel room, nestled beneath the soft embrace of her covers. The gentle pitter-patter on the windowpane provided a soothing backdrop, a lullaby that echoed through the walls of her haven. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the space. The air was permeated with a comforting scent, a blend of vanilla and lavender, creating an atmosphere of tranquility.

Outside, the storm raged on, transforming rain into an impassioned dance. The occasional flash of lightning painted fleeting pictures across the dark canvas of the night, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder, like a celestial orchestra performing its symphony. The world beyond her window seemed wild and untamed, a testament to the unpredictable beauty of nature.

In contrast, her safe haven for the time being was an oasis of serenity. The sound of the rain against the window created a serene ambiance, a natural melody that serenaded her into a state of relaxation. The warmth beneath the covers enveloped her like a protective shield, warding off the chill that lingered in the air. She closed her eyes, embracing the sensory blanket of the storm outside.

The room became a refuge, a sanctuary where time seemed to stand still. The raindrops continued their dance, now accompanied by the occasional hail, creating a symphony of textures against the window. It was as if the universe had orchestrated this moment just for her - a moment of solace amidst the chaos of the storm.

Wrapped in the cocoon of her own thoughts, Flo allowed herself to drift into a realm of imagination. Lying in bed in her quaint hotel room, she couldn't help but let her mind wander to Andrew.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm ambiance that played hide-and-seek with the shadows. The rhythmic patter of rain against the window served as a hypnotic backdrop, coaxing her thoughts into a realm where reality and fantasy intertwined.

Images of Andrew's magnetic smile and the way his eyes held a mysterious glint replayed in her mind like scenes from a film. They had shared enough moments together, for her to already be enamored by him. The shared laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional brush of hands had created an unspoken connection, one that lingered in the air like the scent of the pine trees outside.

As Flo closed her eyes, the details of their encounters played out in vivid hues. The memory of Andrew's voice, deep and resonant like the echoes of the forest, resonated in her mind. The palpable sexual tension between them hung in the air, a magnetic force that neither could ignore. It was as if the woods themselves conspired to weave a tale of passion and desire, and Flo found herself drawn into the intoxicating dance.

The rain outside, now accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder, mirrored the storm of emotions swirling within her, each droplet carrying the weight of longing she couldn’t suppress. Her imagination painted vivid scenarios teetering on the edge of fantasy and reality—a secret rendezvous beneath the shelter of ancient trees, where the rain bore silent witness to the magnetic pull between them, each drop a rhythm to their unspoken dance of desire.

In her mind’s eye, the hotel room morphed into a realm of unspoken possibilities. The warm flicker of the lamp bathed the space in a golden haze, its soft glow casting shadows that seemed to whisper of hidden passions. The earthy scent of the storm mingled with the electric charge of anticipation that filled her as she envisioned him there beside her, close enough to touch, the heat of his presence weaving through the air like a physical force. Their chemistry felt alive, a tangible spark waiting to ignite.

As the storm outside grew fiercer, the scene in her mind deepened in its intensity—a stolen kiss that lingered like the first crack of lightning, a murmured confession of feelings too overwhelming to contain, and the unspoken promise that beyond the door lay a moment of surrender to the undeniable connection between them. The raindrops beat against the windowpane, their rhythm matching the heightened tempo of her heart, echoing the shared yearning that had captured her.

Reality blurred with fantasy, each feeding the other in a seamless dance that left her suspended between the two worlds. The storm outside raged on, a tempest of sound and fury, but inside her cocoon of thoughts, she lingered, savoring the intoxicating swirl of emotions he had stirred—a heady mix of excitement, tension, and the delicious ache of the forbidden. Each pulse of thunder, each drop of rain, seemed to draw her closer to the edge of a longing she could no longer deny.

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beat-the-morning · 2 months ago

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🖤 Fumigation Journal || Hozier x Reader🖤

BOTH PARTS

READ ON TUMBLR UNDER CUT || READ ON AO3

Rating: 18+ || smut

Tags: oral sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating, cum swallowing, marsturbation interrupted, love confessions, fingering, face fucking, dry humping, marking, creampie (kinda), squirting, breakfast in bed

Summary: Andrew is staying at your apartment while his house gets fumigated, you come back from work one day only to find him with your dream journal in hand. What will happen next?

Word Count: 7k

A/N: This fic was co-written with oomf :) We both wrote both chapters— go give them some love!!

Their Twitter

Their Wattpad

💙FULL FIC UNDER CUT💙

You gazed out your window, sleepy eyes reverently observing the sunrise. Your heart swelled— somehow, the sunrise always felt prettier when you had someone to love. Really, everything in life gets slathered in beauty

And, oh, how close your love was. He was staying in your shitty apartment instead of his big, old house. The one that had no air conditioning, that he needed to get renovated when he moved in to even be able to piss in the bathroom. It also frequently got infested with bugs. Andrew tried everything, but nothing really worked. Not bug traps, nor the exterminator, nor closing the gaps in the house.

So, currently the house was getting fumigated. Maybe these bugs realized how he was made for you. Maybe they were on your side— the ultimate matchmakers. You giggled into your pillow at the mere thought.

You got up and rolled out of bed. Work was in 30 minutes— it was probably best to suck it up and stop staring at the sky, like some sort of romantic. Even if you very well were. You stumbled out of your room, hair frizzy, face bare, eyes blurry.

Your sleepy legs made their way into the kitchen, every step a battle. You weren't paying attention, your mind was way better at thinking about your pretty best friend. In consequence, you bumped into the man himself. Face hitting his chest, you let out a tired groan. You looked up at him with weary eyes— one of his hands ended up on your shoulder, steadying you.

“Clumsy morning, huh?”

You cover your mouth, hiding a yawn. Andrew laughed, a warm, mellow, welcoming sound. Wanting him was your only absolute this early. Everything was blurry, you really didn't care about anything, you were tired, and your head hurt. But you wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“I made french toast.” He said, letting you go, interrupting your thinking.

You happily hummed, sitting down at the table as he set a plate in front of you, “Thank you, Andy”

“No problem. And I'm sorry for this being all so sudden. Thank you for taking me in. It… it really means a lot, you're a sweetheart. Truly.”

Your cheeks flushed, and it took you a few seconds to compose yourself before you dug into your pancakes.

Once you were done stuffing your face, you quickly got ready for your job. You organized books at the local library— and you sure as hell dressed the part. You decided on a patterned button down and black trousers- hell, your elderly neighbor dressed younger than you.

Work was boring as fuck, but at least it was Friday, so no more work for a couple days. You got through the day with one too many cups of coffee and at least one “smoke break”, which was really just a lap around the block to get away from work for a few minutes.

You didn't have the worst job ever—hell, the pay was the best you'd had. But it was tedious, and mind-numbingly boring. Especially when you had a man at home. Not your man, but rather the man you were given the curse of being “just friends” with.

You were utterly thrilled, yet exhausted at the end of the day, when you took the bus home and planned what movie you and Andy were to watch.

Your aching legs made their way up the stairs, your hand holding tightly onto the handrail, trying not to fall down the steps from how drowsy you were. The sweet promise of seeing your best friend filled you, though, and it did almost numb your pain.

You finally reached your floor, opening the door, heart warm and fuzzy, and your eyes befell a beautiful, but shocking sight.

Andrew lay there, on your cozy couch, in sweatpants and a white ribbed tank top. Even that was enough to stun you. His eyes were focused, glazed over, head tilted back. His hair was messy, tangled.

In one hand, he held a small, black journal- with striking similarity to your dream journal. You’d been using it for a few months now and had written every dream you’d had in it, while it had started out with innocent little fairytales, your dreams had become far less appropriate as of late. So the journal mostly was composed of dirty descriptions of intimacy- all with Andrew. This was the book that you mistakenly left open on your coffee table the night before. His other hand was under his sweatpants, gripping tightly, stroking his cock with wild abandon. He knew it was wrong, that he was invading your privacy, but god, was he weak for you.

“So fuckin’ hot…” He groans, the world around him fuzzy and blurred. “Please” he whimpered, bucking into his hand, a bit of drool leaking onto his chest, soaking the hair that peeked out from under that singlet.

You took it all in, and realized that you should not be watching this. You quickly shut the door, followed by a loud curse from Andy. You could feel your heart pounding in your ear. Fuck, were you wet. You were still in your work clothes, very much dressed like a librarian. But you couldn’t deny the wetness underneath it all, you felt your panties soaking more and more as the seconds passed by, you hated and loved what his simple yet perverted act was doing to you.

Behind the door, Andrew quickly put his conscious, ever twitching length away under those unintentionally slutty grey sweatpants. Or intentionally— you knew this man. Despite his very common bouts of disliking everything about himself, he knew how hot others saw him. And he wasn’t an idiot— he'd seen your reverent stares. He'd noticed how you always stayed wrapped in his arms just a second too long after hugs. He knew that you were attracted to him on some level. Maybe not the full extent, but he knew something was up.

How could he ruin this by wanking off to your private journal? Once his dick was put away, still twitching, leaking a bit in his pants, he ran his hand through his hair, hunched over, filled with guilt. Your moleskin-wrapped journal was abandoned on the floor. Man, did he fuck up.

You leaned into the door, your voice shaky— you were embarrassed, turned on, and terrified all at the same time.

“Andy… you decent?” you called out on the other side of the thin door, meek.

He looked up from his hands covering his flushed face, and responded a very pathetic, “Yea… Ehm, yeah, I am.” He shifted awkwardly, before his pretty hazel eyes fixed upon the floor. Shamed, and rightfully cockblocked.

You opened the door, slowly walking back into your apartment, your eyes focused on the floor, too embarrassed to look over at him. His breathing was shaky— he was scared to take even one step closer to you.

“I’m sorry, angel, I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, taking in a deep breath before speaking again. “I have no excuse, I really, really don’t. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I was.. you were gone, found yer book… and… and I thought you were working, and I'm so fucking sorry, Ang-” He cut himself off with a sob, one finger nervously twisting at a curl.

Angel, huh? The man was always such a sweet talker when he fucked up. Now you weren't even mad at him, how could you be? You wished you could have the image of him pleasuring himself burnt into your eyelids. But you snapped out of these filthy thoughts when he spoke again.

“I’ll just leave, I know you probably need to process this whole thing, but please don’t—“

“No- I mean, it’s…” You took a heavy breath in. Please keep going. You thought, but what slipped out was a little more civil;

“We all do it, yeah? So… so…” You took another heavy breath in, your tone changing to a softer one. “Don’t leave.”

His heart broke with your last words, how could he say no to you?

“No, no, I'm… really sorry, that journal was private. And… and it's not fair to you,” cue the chorus of sniffles, “It's none of my business, even if it's about-”

And when you thought your cheeks couldn't flush more. Your best friend was sobbing, and yet you couldn't help but notice the outline in those sweats. Long, hard, twitching, leaking onto the waistband. Oh, how you wish to swallow it whole.

You took a step closer to him, finally looking into his eyes, they were red and teary, begging for forgiveness. You hugged him, awkwardly, but you knew he didn’t care much about that. He just needed the embrace of another. He felt horrible—disrespectful, dirty, perverted. All he wanted to do was sink into this couch and die from pure sin.

But the closest he could do was sink into you. He was so disappointed in himself that he didn't really notice his face was between your breasts. Fine, he did notice, and it made him even harder. But it was a shameful boner— and he really did derive a lot of comfort from your embrace.

You gently stroked his hair, whispering the occasional ‘you're okay’. Did he notice how hard your nipples were? Did he feel your heart beating? Oh, you felt him. Obviously he was hunched over, in a way that you couldn't feel his cock, but you could feel his shaky hands holding onto you. You could feel the way he nuzzled his nose into your breast— and fuck, did it turn you on.

You moved to the couch, sitting down next to each other, you gently pulled his face from your chest, holding it tenderly in your hands. He looked so ashamed, yet aroused. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing in your touch and caresses, surprised that you even wanted him near you.

He sighed softly, eyes still closed, you placed a tender kiss on his forehead, your thumbs softly rubbing his cheeks in an attempt at comforting him.

When you pulled away slightly, he let out a little whine. He didn't mean to– he was ever so flustered. His cheeks under your fingers were hot, very hot. Like he'd never been kissed on the forehead by someone as pretty as you. You were sure he had, but it was cute to see him fumbling around like he hadn't.

“I really am sorry, I don't deserve this.. you being so damn sweet, when you should really just be yelling at me.. and in your own house, I'm such a-”

“For God's sake, could you shut up?” You blurted, your hand stilling in his hair.

He looked at you with big, wet eyes, almost like a kicked puppy, he looked like he was on the brink of tears. “But I-”

You saw those pretty shining eyes, and that blabbering soft mouth. And all you could think about was shutting him up yourself. You leaned in, the bow of your lips drawn against him in a slow, but nevertheless desperate affair. Andrew sobbed a little into the kiss, but held you close. He needed this, he needed you.

You were the first to slip your tongue into it, tasting his spit. He tasted like coffee and tears. Poor man, an insomniac and depressed. What he needs now is pussy. Plenty of it, to drown his sorrows in.

You kept devouring him, feeling his hands shaking throughout, yet incredibly needy. One hand landed on your thigh, and you fell into him, groaning needily.

God, he could feel the heat radiating from you. He pulled off your kiss-swollen lips and got at your neck, quickly finding the spot that drew you in. He spoke quietly, under your ear

“This good?” He whispered, eyes half lidded. He didn't even try to hide his boner, and you could feel his precum leaking out.

“Mhm..” you whispered reverently, moving his hand up your waist.

He fumbled while unbuttoning your shirt, quickly followed by your bra before he latched onto one of your breasts, needily sucking at your nipple while his hand played with the other one. You whimpered quietly, your hand immediately moving to his hair, fingers tangling in his brown curls. His lips moved to your other nipple, sucking it passionately while his hands travelled lower on your form, undoing your work pants after a bit of a struggle.

You tugged at his hair, leading him to where he was so obviously so very giddy to lap at. He looked up at you, heart eyes so pretty in the golden hour, but ever so feral. You met his gaze with a smile. He kissed a trail down to your clit as he inched both your panties and trousers down at the same time, moving down, licking a firm stripe up your warm pussy, then digging in, and eating you like a man starved.

And god, did he eat you out. Like he was made to. Eager and adoring, he worshipped you between your legs without even pulling away to breathe. His long tongue, soft lips, and nice big fingers— what else would he use them for? Yes, guitar playing, but he'd much prefer to play you instead.

His tongue worked at the lips of your pussy, nose dug into your clit, his stubble drawing giggles from you. It quickly became his safe space. He loved it. He'd always loved it, and he loved it even more now that it was you. His sweet muse.

And his favorite melody, out of all the love songs that he's heard, were your moans. A sweet crescendo, starting soft and shy, but loud enough for all your neighbors to hear by the time his fingers were inside you. You were his, all his. And everyone had to know that. They had to know that he was devouring your decadent body as it deserved to be.

His fingers curled into you, tickling the very spots that made you squirm and squeeze his face with your thighs. You returned his heart eyes before they rolled back.

You moaned so loudly, lewdly. A noise that you didn’t even know you could make. You felt a familiar knot in your belly, the feeling of it tightening only to suddenly snap overwhelming you.

“Fuck, you- Andrew, fucking- God!” You said, frustratingly riding the waves of pleasure running through you.

He looked up, eyes shining, still so very big and needy, but drowning in your orgasm, just as you were. He curled up next to you, catching your lips in a hungry kiss. When he pulled away for air, you smiled, in a way that you hoped he adored.

“You taste like pussy, Andy” You teased with a little giggle.

“Mm… Wonder who’s fault that is, angel.”

You giggled, kissing him again. His hands grabbed your waist and moved you so you were straddling his thigh, you ground against it, unknowingly rubbing his cock while doing so. One of your hands travelled lower towards his sweatpants, slipping under the waistband and wrapping your fingers around his cock. Slowly, you stroked it, the tip of it red and glistening with precum, poking out under his clothes. Your other hand pulled his top off, consumed with the need to feel his skin against yours.

He moaned softly into the kiss, pulling your hips firmly onto his thigh and making you hump it, you moaned in return, and he deepened the kiss. It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your hand, his hips buckling towards you ever so slightly, you were going to stop, you wanted him in your mouth before he could finish, but you were too late. He came on your hand and on his abdomen not long after, a thick pearly coating on his slight pudge. You broke the kiss, looking down at his lap and pulling your hand up to your mouth.

He looked into your eyes, and you returned it, almost asking for permission, to which he gave you a small nod and a smile. Your eyes focused back on your hand, still covered with his seed, and you licked it off, quiet, soft moans escaping you as you swallowed his delicious sin.

“Baby, look at me,” he commanded softly, his grip in your thighs tightening. You looked at him, his eyes full of love and lust. “Good girl, now look here,” he pointed at the mess of cum on his abdomen. “Look at what you did.”

“Sorry.” You said with feigned innocence, looking at him with puppy eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet angel.” He cooed in a patronizing tone, knowing you were putting on an act. “Just clean it up for me, yeah? Be good and clean up your mess.”

You nodded, sliding off his lap and onto your knees on the floor. You leaned in close to his tummy, his dick still hard even after his climax. He grabbed you by your hair, pulling you even closer, then, you started licking him clean, his happy trail tickling your tongue in the best way possible. You swallowed him, over and over again while he moaned softly. You slowly started to run your tongue over his cock, looking up at him with your sweet bedroom eyes. He gasped. He adored having someone suck him off after he's already come. It made him see stars, truly.

“Mmmm… you like this, sweetness? You enjoy cleaning me up after you made such a mess of me?” He cooed again, hands brushing through your hair.

You nodded the best you could while his dick was stuffing your mouth up. God, his sweet whimpers and words of encouragement. They really could kill you.

You swallowed him deeper, closing your eyes, trying your best not to gag. You ended up getting a little carried away, your nose pressed hard into his pubic bone, like a puzzle piece. There was a bulge in your throat. You decided to try something out and stroked it from the outside, looking to see if it did anything for him.

And God, did it do something. He let out a noise you thought was impossible. He was there, on the couch, legs spread, back arched as you were on your knees, sucking from the tap. He pulled your hair tighter- probably not intentionally so hard, but it's not like it didn't turn you on.

You kept at it, closing your eyes, drowning in those growls and whimpers. You'd think he was some sort of slut.

He gasped, and starting fucking into your throat, pretty eyes rolling back, legs shaking. After another few languid strokes, he came down your throat, basking in the way you enjoyed this, just as much as he did.

“Good girl, fuck.. your throat, fuck,. Jesus fucking Christ, angel… so tight, Mmm—!” He babbled mindlessly as you pleasured him. God, he adored you.

Adored you so much that he came down your throat. You choked on it a little, pulling back and clearing your throat. You smiled sweetly up at him, cum dripping down your chin, then kissed the tip of his cock, warranting another little burst of cum to shoot at your face.

“Such a messy eater…” He teased lovingly.

You were in the middle of a reply when he stuffed his cock into your mouth again, holding you there.

“Shhh, princess. Nobody's ever taught you to not speak with your mouth full?” There was a smile on his face. God, was he a vision… Cheeks flushed, hair the messiest you've seen it, hands shaking, stray drops of cum on his pale skin. You started to bob your head, but he stopped you.

“Two rounds of sucking me off in a row? I'm sure you get tired. So tired. How about I just do it for you… keep your mouth around me, and I'll take care of the rest. Is that okay with you, angel?”

You gave him those puppy eyes, humming happily as a way to say “yes”.

“Mmmhm? Okay, then..”

He started to fuck into you, a little bit sloppily, his hips bucking. He was feral, truly. He moved quickly, hyperventilating, a third orgasm threatening to happen at any time. He moved faster, fucking your mouth with a surprising amount of strength for a man that had already come twice.

But it became too much, and you had to pull away to take a breath, warranting a surprisingly bratty whimper for a man acting so dominant.

“Wha- Wha- FUCK,” He belted, shooting cum onto the floor, right onto your moleskin notebook, it wasn’t much, just what was left inside of him after the last two orgasms. Your hand was still wiping your chin, and your mouth fell open.

“Jesus, sorry, I didn't know-”

“I didn't either,” he said, irrationally upset. It took him a bit to calm down. He caught his breath as he leaned back on the couch. You got up and sat next to him, gazing up into his brimmed eyes.

“Andy, you know I wanted to swallow, I really did. I want it…”

He looked back down at you, gaze softening. He leaned to your level, grabbing your chin and opening your mouth, then, moved his head on top of yours and slowly let his spit flow from his lips and onto your tongue. You smiled, a little naughtily, and swallowed. God, that was hot.

“Mmmh.” You hummed.

“That's something to swallow, isn't it?”

He leaned in and kissed your tired lips tenderly, as you tangled into him, ending up a cuddling, naked mess on your—now, filthy couch.

He moved you to lay on his chest while he played idly with your hair, his nose buried in it as well, taking in your scent in the quiet evening. His other hand traced patterns on your back, his fingers dancing carefully over your skin, almost fearing you’d shatter like a porcelain doll just from his touch.

His lips pressed onto your forehead, giving you a soft, affectionate kiss that took your breath away for a second. You looked up at him from his chest, your eyes wide and adoring. “Hi,” he murmured softly, not really thinking about what he was saying.

“Hi,” you responded, making the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“This doesn’t feel real.” He whispered softly, still caressing you with all the love in the world.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I never thought I’d actually get to hold you like this, to have been with you like we have.” He elaborated. “This was always more of a fantasy, I didn’t think it’d be real.”

“What, you thought I didn’t like you like that?” You asked, a bit incredulous.

“I knew you thought I was hot, I’m not stupid, I see how you look at me.” He sighed again, his arms tightening around you, his gaze avoiding yours. “But the… ehm, the extent of just how much you liked me was more than I thought it’d be.”

You smiled softly, your hand playing with his chest hair as you listened to him. His voice was like a melody in and of itself, every word he said a note in the symphony of your dreams.

“It’s just…” He continued, his tone even softer. “It’s like there’s steps to all this, you know? There’s finding someone attractive, then there’s wanting to- ehm, have sex with them, and then there’s just wanting to be with them, in every way possible…” He trailed off.

“Andy. What are you trying to say?” You asked, his eyes immediately focusing on yours the moment you finished your sentence.

“That I love you, angel, I have for a long time.” He finally confessed. You felt his heart speed up in his chest, he was so incredibly nervous.

“I love you, too.” You timidly whispered, then placed a quick, loving kiss on his chest. “You can calm down now, your heart is beating way too fast.” You added teasingly.

“Maybe a proper kiss will calm me down.” He teased back.

You moved carefully, crawling up to his eye level and kissing him deeply. He kissed back almost immediately, your mouths moving in tandem to make the perfect kiss. Andrew pulled back after a few seconds, his mind too crowded with thoughts to fully lose himself in you no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

“Let me take you out on a date, somewhere nice,” he caressed your cheek with his thumb. His voice little more than a lovesick whisper. “If not, at least let me call you mine.”

“Yes, to both.” You smiled, nuzzling your face into his hand.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead. “Sorry to change the topic like this, but I’m exhausted, wanna go to bed?”

You chuckled softly at the change of subject. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.” You argued lovingly.

“I had my fill with you already.”

“Then I guess we can go to bed, but I have to shower first.” You stood up from your cuddling position on the couch, watching Andrew follow suit not long after. “Maybe put a movie on my laptop and we can watch it afterwards?”

You looked up at him with begging eyes while holding his hand in yours, he smiled, he couldn’t say no to you, especially now.

“As you wish, princess.” He took your hand to his lips and kissed it playfully, a small giggle escaping you both. “Any movie in particular you desire to watch, your majesty?”

“Okay, cut it out,” you continued to giggle, “just choose one you like, yeah? I’m gonna shower.”

With that, you went to your bathroom to clean yourself up while Andrew went to your room and set everything up, including cleaning himself as best he could and fixing his messy, post-orgasmic appearance.

You came back from the shower after almost an hour, hair still wet, in comfy sweatpants and a tank top. You made your way to your room, waiting to see your angel. He sat there, in bed, scrolling on his phone, hair up in a messy bun. He looked nothing short of adorable— cleaned up nicely too.

Your laptop was next to him. It seems he'd already chosen a movie, Legally Blonde, for some reason. You sank next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“You like chick flicks?” You asked, with a giggled cadence.

“Nothing short of modern masterpieces, they are.” He replied, starting the movie and letting your body adjust against him. You clicked, your arms the perfect length around his waist, your lips the perfect curve against his, your nose perfectly nesting into his pulse.

You fell asleep first. Fast asleep- not stirring in the slightest. He thought your slight snores and weird murmurs were adorable. He'd much rather fall asleep to those than any movie. He closed the laptop and set it on your bedside table, his long arms holding you tight into the late hours.

He ended up having the best sleep in a while— no thoughts of upcoming concerts or snobby dinners to torment him. You somehow made it all stop. In his busy world, you were his only constant. Something he wanted to hold close to and never let go.

——

Andrew adored your face. He saw it everywhere- the pure beauty of it. He saw your beauty in the Irish hillsides. He heard your voice in every old timey love song. Everywhere, everything, it was always you.

In the early morning, he found himself gazing at you again, a long finger tracing your cheek. He sighed contentedly, completely enamored with you. His limbs tangled further into yours. This went on for about half an hour— his sweet touches and comforting, soft kisses.

Your eyes fluttered open. Your first view of the day was Andrew cupping your cheeks, his head tilted. You smiled dorkily at him, your view still unfocused.

“Morning, sleepin’ beauty” He greeted in that soothing Irish lilt of his. You responded with a groan— giving him the opportunity to scoop you up in his arms, holding you to his chest. You giggled into the firm, warm body.

“Hey!” You grogged. He pulled you even further up, paving a path of smooches along your face, whispering sweet nothings.

“So pretty when you wake up, you know that? Sweet, sweet angel… and you're all mine…” he was getting lost in you, reciting all his best praise while you were barely away from the sandman.

It took a while for you to properly wake up. When the consciousness came, you returned his kisses sloppily, hand coming up to tangle in that messy brown hair.

The kisses got more desperate and messy as you went, desperate to taste each other, to catch up on everything you've missed. You grew a little dominant— even a little frustrated. You rolled him over, warranting a whimper, then pulled away, laying on your side next to him.

“You're so needy in the mornings.”

“Huh?” He whispered hoarsely, looking up at you with half lidded eyes.

“I said you're needy in the mornings. All kisses and sweet words…”

You got onto him, warranting a little ‘oomph’ to squeeze out. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you steadily, groaning as your thigh brushed against him.

You put your thumb in his mouth, slowly grinding and watching as he sucked it at the same pace. The little pacifier kept him quiet, even when you were ruthlessly rutting into his growing hardness.

He looked up at you with shiny eyes before his head tilted to the side, giving you a full view of his beautiful, biteable neck.

You stop grinding for a second. You ached to keep staring into those lovely breaking eyes, “Andy, look up.”

He obediently gazed up at you through thick lashes, mouth biting your thumb a little. You kept going, watching as he tried not to lose his locked stare. His hand moved to your wrist, trying to pull to take your thumb out of his mouth, you shushed him in return, pushing it in a little deeper.

“Keep it in,” you ordered softly, starting to grind on his crotch once more. He listened, lightly biting your thumb to suppress his moans. “That’s it, good boy.” You added in a sultry whisper.

Andrew’s eyes shot open, you felt his dick harden almost immediately, the size poking at you through the layers of clothing. He pulled your thumb out of his mouth, his eyes dark with lust. His hands moved to your waist and threw you onto the bed, making you whimper.

You looked up at him as he moved on top of you, caging you into the mattress with his long arms. He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head with just one hand, then pushed his knee between your legs, smiling devilishly at you.

“Grind.” He ordered, his voice stern yet undeniably full of love for you. His thumb found your clit, tracing obnoxiously slow circles over it.

You obediently rubbed against his knee, the dual stimulation of his finger and your actions making your back mold into an arch. You struggled playfully against his grip, moaning softly as your hips moved.

You kept grinding, eventually losing yourself and collapsing onto him. “Awww, that's not all you have in you, is it, baby?” He teased, his grin widening.

“C’mere, let me treat you.” He spoke in a lowered octave, gently nudging you over, as if asking for permission to take you.

You let him guide you over, your eyes hungry, legs wrapping around his waist. He firmly kissed down the side of your face, sinking down to your clavicle, and getting to work, sucking at it for a good few minutes- summoning giggles that quickly turned to moans of pure desperation. When he finally pulled away, what was left of all the sucking and biting was a reddish purple mark that he blew on, the air sending a shiver down your spine.

“Was that okay, darling? I’m sure you have some turtlenecks you can wear for a couple days if you need them.” He continued to kiss down your body, his voice even more rough. “Though I’d rather you didn’t, the idea of you going out with my mark on display is so fucking hot.”

“I work at a library, I can’t just have hickeys on displa— FUCK!” Andrew sucked on your chest, intending to leave another mark while his hand had traveled down to your core again, only to insert two fingers inside you this time, thrusting away any words left in you.

He smiled as he pulled away again, blowing softly on the second mark he’d left, his eyes already scanning your body in search of a spot for the third and fourth ones, all while never stopping his fingers inside you.

His mouth found your tummy just as his thumb found your clit, you moaned loudly, trying to thrust into his fingers but getting stopped by the rest of him on his quest to mark you fully. Not like you’d complain though, you’d be lying if you said the thought of being marked by him all over didn’t turn you on.

The pattern repeated as he went lower, marking your abdomen a few more times while his fingers worked on you, getting you closer to your climax. He sucked on your inner thigh, leaving his last mark on you before replacing his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking on it while he fingered you still. You screamed from pleasure, your hands gripping the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm washing down on you in intense waves of ecstasy. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and your moans turned into whines, he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, almost making out with your clit before sitting back on his heels.

He put his soaked fingers up to your mouth, you welcomed them, sucking off your essence and making Andrew smile. He took one of your legs and put your ankle over his shoulder, straddling your other one in a way that made his cock perfectly align with your entrance. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, trailing them down in a path that connected all your hickeys and continued down your belly, pressing down on the weak spot right under your belly button.

You giggled, batting your lashes up at him. Truly, you wanted him to fuck you until your guts split, and the best way to get that would be to put on the innocent act— one that you had quickly learned was his favourite. Even if he knew it was little more than that.

He rubbed the tip of his cock over your soaked folds, watching as you tried to keep the little act up. And it was hard, when he was there, with his chest hair and stupid smirking pretty face. When his hair was in a side part, tossing every time he made a sudden move.

He pinned you down with his lean arms. He squeezed into you, feeling your pussy envelope him, squeezing around his cock in just the right way. He didn’t take the time to ease you in, quickly building the pace up, gritting his teeth. He fucked the woman he loved the most in the most feral way possible.

You loved this side of him, your body instinctively moving your legs to where he perfectly hit your g-spot with each needy thrust. You abruptly came after a few of these- making that your second orgasm.

But he kept going, and you kept laying there and looking so utterly fuckable. Legs spread, tits bouncing, eyes rolling back every time he hit your sweet spot.

“God, you're such a pretty thing. Wish I could just stay inside you all day, keeping me warm…”

He kept going. At this point, your eyes couldn't even keep open. Your nails dug into his back as he leaned closer to you, little half-crescents engraving into his pale skin. He was close to you now, chest sweat dripping onto your face. You could feel his hot breath and hear his beautiful moans, and feel the spit dripping out of his growling mouth.

You yelped as a strange sensation took you, snapping him out of it. You whined and wrapped your leg, that had now fallen off his shoulder, around his hips, practically begging for him to continue his thrusts. You didn't even notice at first— it was him who pulled out. He felt your squirt soak his dick, biting his lip, slapping his dick lightly to try and drain you as you squirted all over him.

“Jesus… You just do that, love?” He whispered lowly, dripping in shock— still incredibly turned on.

“No! I… I didn’t know I could…” You said softly, still trying to catch your breath.

He laughed and leaned in, kissing your cheek, “Well, I'm glad to be the one to help you find out, Mmm?”

He was silent for a few beats, then placed his hand tenderly on your cheek, “Are you okay? Can I keep going?”

“Please put it back in…” You begged.

He smiled. “As you wish, my love.”

He did exactly that, pushing back into you, getting lost in your body once more. Sweet moans escaping him as he chased his own release.

He felt his balls growing tighter, moaning in almost your key, his hot seed bursting into you. He gave you a big dorky smile, still slowly fucking in and out as his cock started to soften.

Andrew leaned in and kissed your face all over, still buried inside you, feeling your warmth around him, and, slowly, coming back to earth from the heaven that you’d taken him to. Your arms enveloped him lovingly, he melted in your gentle touch, his heart swelling with love for you. His eyes widened in a split second, realisation setting in.

“Shit, baby, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t- christ.” He mumbled apologetically, caressing your face, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear, I didn’t mean to, angel.”

You looked at him, slightly confused as to why he was apologising so much.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, slowly getting your strength back.

“I didn’t put a condom on, I’m sorry, I completely forgot, I’ll go to the store and get you the pill.” He apologised again, his voice threatening to break from the nerves.

“Andy, hey, calm down,” you smiled, caressing his face with one of your hands. “It’s fine, I’m on birth control, stop worrying.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at you with loving eyes. “Thank God,” he chuckled, kissing your lips for a split second, “still, I’m sorry, I should’ve put one on anyway when I didn’t know if you were on birth control or not.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, taking the moment to finally pull out of you, swallowing your soft whines as he did. His cum flowed out of you, the sight of it making Andrew smile darkly. He went to your bathroom and came back with a washcloth, gently cleaning you up.

“The bed’s wet, love, want me to carry you to mine?” He asked, caressing your cheek with all the tenderness in the world.

You nodded in response, then felt his arms wrap around you and carry you to the guest bedroom he’d been staying in. He laid you on the mattress, you yawned, your legs exhausted. You had to admit, you always got so sleepy after sex. Your exes hated it— but Andrew found it so endearing. He gently tucked you in, kissing your sweat-slick forehead.

“You’re so beautiful, angel. Be a good girl and get some good rest for me. You deserve it.” You reached for him with grabby hands as he threw boxers and a big knit sweater on. He smiled at the sight. “I’ll be back, okay? I just have… something to do. Go to sleep for me. Please, angel.”

So, you— being the sweet, obedient angel that you were, fell asleep after just a few seconds. He got up and washed his messy hands, then got to work on your breakfast. He decided on pancakes. Which he was able to make into somewhat perfect hearts.

He put the pancakes, along with fresh berries, on a platter and brought them in after an hour and a half or so.

He placed them on the bedside table, then gently shook you awake.

“Wake up, love, I made breakfast.” He greeted, like he wasn't deep inside you two hours ago.

You looked up at him with a hazy stare, “You can cook?” You mumbled, looking at the plate.

“Of course I can cook. What other way could I have charmed girls?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, sitting up and placing the heated platter on your lap, “No idea.”

He sat next to you, snacking on some of your berries, watching as you ate. He was possibly the biggest loverboy in the world, obsessed with everything you did.

“What?” You ask, noticing his constant puppylike stare

“I don't want to go back to my house. I want to be like this. For as long as you'll have me.”

God, was he an angel. He really thought you'd grow tired of him?

“Then I think you'll be living in this shitty apartment forever, Andrew.”

“Forever?”

“Or until it finally falls apart and the building collapses on our heads, whatever happens first.” You giggled.

“In that case we could move to mine, then.” He suggested, smiling lovingly. “After the bug problem gets fixed, that is.”

“Be nice to the bugs, technically they’re the ones that brought us together.” You teased, kissing him gently.

“I’ll tell the exterminator to be gentle when killing them.” He teased back, returning the kiss passionately.

#hozier fanfiction #hozier fic #hozier #hozier smut #hozier x reader #mornfic #andrew hozier byrne #hozier rpf

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