#hozier x reader

[padfootagain]

Coming Home

Hi!! Answering a request by @stevecore here! Thank you for your request!

Hope you like it! It’s pretty sweet! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem! Reader

Warning: Fluff, comfort, being reunited

Summary: After being separated for several weeks because of his touring, you and Andrew are finally reunited as you come pick him up at the airport.

Word Count: 1990

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

By the window, you can see the planes landing. The dark tarmac, the rain falling, turning skies grey and the world blurry. Such busy places, airports. Happy ones, too, for the most part. You think about the journeys you have started in this place, the adventures you have gotten yourself into, the wonderful memories you have built.

A mother hushes her child past you, carrying the boys backpack, heading closer to the gate you were patiently waiting before as well. The boy seems excited, he must be waiting for someone, just like you are. You remain behind most of the group that has gathered in front of the large sign screaming ARRIVALS. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, or to the person you’re waiting for. You don’t want anyone to notice who you’ve been missing, who you’re about to meet again.

You check your watch, for what has to be the thousandth time. Andrew should have reached you twenty minutes ago now, but planes are rarely on time. You heave a sigh, try to ignore the giddy feeling that tickles your stomach when you think of him, of holding the man you love again, of welcoming him home.

It’s a risky business, to come pick him up at the airport and to wait at the terminal instead of the car. Anyone could recognise him, take a picture, put it on social media, and you don’t want to be included in the public part of his life. None of you want to. This, what you share together, it’s just for the two of you. That’s what makes you a safe place for him, that’s what makes him be him when you’re around, that’s what keeps you safe, too. So, you’re extra careful not to be in anybody’s way, staying a few steps away from the small crowd. No one is paying attention to you, and you’re satisfied with that. The risk is worth it, though. Andrew’s been away for three months, it’s one of the longest runs he’s done without seeing you at all, and you’re missing him so much at this point, you’ve stopped functioning properly. This long distance part of your relationship is shit, but you love him, and you know he wouldn’t be happy without music in his life. So, it’s worth it. Besides, there are very few moments as happy as your reunions. Holding him against you again makes it worth the long, lonely wait.

The last time you were here, it was to help Andrew carry his stuff when he left. You can see yourself again, walking across the hall, putting on a brave face while your heart was breaking, carrying his guitar and one of his bags while Andrew carried the rest. You remember seeing Alex and Rory from afar, they were all leaving together, but Andrew had stopped while still being a fair distance away from them. He had turned to you, a gentle smile on his lips despite his eyes turning fully green with tears.

I’ll call you when I land.

You close your eyes for a second, feeling his arms around you, the way he had held you close that morning, three months ago.

Wait for me. I love you more than anything. Let me come back to you.

He says that every time he leaves, like he expects you to move on without him. How can he be so fucking stupid? How can he be so blind as to not see that you would wait a lifetime for him if you had to.

You can almost feel his lips onto yours, the skin tickles with the memory of his stubble brushing your chin, of his hot breath on your mouth, of his fingers on your cheeks.

You hear a small boy crying out, and you notice it’s the one who has walked by you just a moment before. He rushes through the crowd to an old man wearing a tweed cap and a long blue coat. Grey hair, a grin on his lips as he bends to scoop up the boy. You smile as you watch the cute reunion, grandfather and grandson together again.

That means your man should come out soon, too. Usually, Andrew lingers at the back of the groups of passengers, waiting for most people to be gone or too busy with their loved ones to pay any attention to him. So, you’re surprised when you see him towering above the crowd, a red cap on his head, his hair tied in a messy bun. He’s wearing a simple brown blazer, some blue jeans, an old black hoodie. At least three layers of clothing. Your eyes water at the sight, you can’t help the wave of fondness that washes over your heart. Him and his bloody layers…

You wave at him, trying to be discreet, but that’s enough for him to spot you, his eyes scanning the crowd until they find yours. You’re surprised again when he makes a bee line to you, moving awkwardly across the crowd, head down and apologies stumbling again and again from his lips. He’s not being discreet at all, but you don’t mind, because that means he’s almost reached you now. You don’t spot Alex, nor Rory behind him, and to be honest you don’t care at all about them. You guess they’re waiting patiently for the crowd to dissipate, but Andrew hasn’t. He’s almost running now, his long legs devouring the metres that still separate the two of you, and you move towards him as well. You catch his gaze with yours and see the same relief, the same haste, the same desperation in his eyes as the feelings you recognise in your own heart. You’re going to cry, any second now, but you don’t mind…

He lets his bags drop at his feet, his guitar case strapped to his back, and then his arms are wrapped around you, capturing you in a tight embrace, one that makes it hard to breathe, but you don’t mind. The mere sight of him has knocked all the air out of your lungs anyway, and you hold him with the same desperation.

You break when you breathe in his cologne, something woody and filled with rain, something so familiar, something that screams home to you…

“Christ…”

His voice is weak and shaking, deeper than usual, you know he’s crying too. Happy tears though. Your tears are happy and relieved. He tries to move away but you cling onto him, making him chuckle as he holds you again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers in your ear, the arm around your waist helping you keep your balance while you’re on your tiptoes and he’s bent down to bury his face in your hair. “Jesus… I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

You can hear the tears in his voice, the way his throat has tightened, but you’re no better, so you can’t tease him about being a sap…

“I’ve missed you too. I’m so glad you’re home, baby…”

He relaxes in your arms as he hears the pet name. Your embrace is his true home, your sweet perfume numbs his senses and tells him he’s right where he belongs. Three months without you was too long, he’ll never make another run so long again, he can’t function properly anymore, and he would be lying, were he to pretend that he took care of himself. He knows that when you’re home you’ll worry when you help him out of his clothes, between kisses you’ll run your fingers down his chest and frown at the traces of his ribs under his skin. You won’t say anything, you’d never make a comment about his weight, but he knows what your frown will mean. That you’re noticing he’s lost some weight, and you’ll worry he’s not eating enough on the road, that he’s not taking care of himself. You’ll serve him an extra portion of pasta at lunch, a few hours later, after you’ve taken a shower together and spent a few hours catching up on the intimacy and pleasure you’ve missed on these past months. He’ll say nothing, and eat everything, and he won’t say it but he’ll feel that warm feeling, that radiant fondness he has only for you, because you take care of him… because you love him…

He's waited so long to hold you, it feels like a lifetime ago since he left. Touring is hectic and generally makes him lose track of time, but this time around he was away from you for too long. He had been counting down the days till he would be home for the past month. He’s never staying away for so long again… never again…

You move your head to kiss him, he knows that’s what your hand in his hair means, and he meets you halfway, turns to kiss you, at long last. He’s waited so long for this, and he doesn’t know how you do it. How kissing you, even after years of relationship, is still as exciting as your very first kiss. How he still has the same butterflies, the same warmth in his chest, the same stammering of his heart. Although, he’s wrong, it’s not quite the same, he realises it now. It’s better, thanks to all the time you have spent together, all the love you have nurtured for each other along the years.

When he pulls away, he holds your face in the palm of his hand to look at you, to study your face, committing each detail to memory, even if he already knows every millimetre of your face, of your entire body. He dries your cheek with his thumb, gives you an emotional yet bright grin.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, making you smile.

“Hey, handsome,” you answer, making him stupidly giggle.

He feels giddy, like a schoolboy, euphoric even.

And you feel the same. You straighten his cap on his head, you’ve messed it up when you kissed him and got a little carried away. You have a million things to say, a thousand stories to tell him despite talking with him on the phones almost daily, a billion kisses to shower him with and all you can think now that you stare at his handsome features is the bed you share together and the feeling of his skin against yours, how you long to feel it again.

You’re about to tell him that you should go home. He’s going to nod, and kiss you again before grabbing his things and heading out of the airport without waiting for Alex and Rory. He’s told them goodbye when they picked up their luggage, and he won’t even think about them when you hold onto his arm and pull him towards the exit. He’s going to let you drive because he’s tired after his flight, and it’s your car anyway. You’ll chat, and he’ll call you a goddess for having a thermos of black coffee waiting for him on the passenger seat. You’ll head home and spend the day together, and the week together, and the month together, as much time as you can, before he has to leave again.

But for now, there is something important that you must remind him of, the most important thing in your life. He too has something important to say, and you giggle when you both realise you’re saying the same thing at the same time.

“I love you.”

[nfwmlily]

woooo i write fic! here it is!!!

Payback

pairing: hozier x fem!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: shameless smut, plot what plot/porn without plot, established relationship, light degradation/heavy praise, dom andrew hozier-byrne x sub fem!reader, blowjob

warning: this little fic includes degradation as included, but explicit consent is given, both people are into it, etc., just be warned some insults are used

words: 1.4k

a/n: i've had this sitting in my arsenal for a few months, a brainworm infested me and i wrote this in like 35 minutes... enjoy !!

here’s the ao3 link:

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Summary:

Andrew's on tour, and the two of you are... Antsy, to say the least. Enter: back-stage blow job!

I lick slowly up the shaft, starting just above his balls with the tip of my tongue on the underside of his cock and the large vein running up the center of it. I have a thing for that vein, it’s just kind of nice.

Andrews breath hitches, his hands immediately coming down to grip the base of my head. “Fuck, that’s… Darling, we’ve got ten minutes or less before encore, you can’t be teasing me like this–”

I giggle and look up at him, his tip brushing against my cheek when I move my head to look upwards. “Only need three of those, darling .”

He lets out a groan that’s almost akin to a growl, and I laugh a little. “Shush. You’ll be on stage on time, I promise. Lemme work my magic.”

Andrew laughs a bit himself and rolls his eyes. “You mean your mouth …”

I shrug. “Same difference, when it comes to you.”

I’ve loved this cock, worshipped this cock since we’ve been together. It’s perfectly long and wide for me, fits perfectly in my mouth and feels heavy against my tongue, and stretches me just enough without being uncomfortable in my cunt. I’ve been following him around on the road for the past eight months, and we’re both fiending for his next break. We’re both sexually starved, and have little to no privacy most of the time. Leading to moments like these.

Moments where I drag him to the back of the venue in between the main show and the encore, drop to my knees, and worship his cock as much as I can in as little time as possible. His words of encouragement , you could say, help with the whole timing thing.

He’s getting desperate now, and nervous. Music is his first love, unfortunately for me, and if it comes down to it, he’ll go out on stage with a raging boner rather than be late because he was getting a blowjob to fix the aforementioned boner.

I lick up his shaft again, a bit more quickly now, and over the tip roughly. His fingers wrap around my hair, tugging slightly, and I open my mouth and take him into my mouth, my lips suctioning around him. Andrews breath hitches and he lets out a low pitched whimpering noise, and I can’t help but laugh around him slightly.

He gently pushes my head forward, urging me to move , that there’s only a few minutes. I intend to make as much use of those next few minutes as I can. “Baby, I love you, but please, we need to make this quick.”

I hum around him and bob my head up and down, my tongue swirling over the tip when I move backwards towards his head. The third time I lick his tip, his hips jerk forward into my mouth, and I’m thrown off a little. We have a code, though, and he checks to see if I’m tapping his left thigh to stop.

I’m not. I’m tapping his right thigh. I’m good. Keep this going. Andrew sighs out and runs his other hand over my cheek, nodding as he looks down at me. “Sorry about that, baby.” he murmurs. “Fuck, you take me so well. Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. You’re so good with it, y’know that?” The words tumble out of his mouth, like he can’t help it. Even when stressed, the man can’t hold back praise.

I resume my movements, sucking him off as quickly as possible. My head is moving quickly, and my hands are gripping his hips to steady the both of us some more.

I glance up, and his forehead is plastered with sweat, his head thrown back. His hair is half out of the shitty ponytail he put it in halfway through the set, and I giggle around him. His gaze snaps down to me, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. “Not the time for giggles, honey.” he rasps.

I shrug and pull his hips towards my face, and he’s hitting the back of my throat now. I pull my lips off of him with a popping noise that is so sinful, even the Devil Himself would cringe at the noise, and look up at him. “Fuck my face?”

Andrew grins and laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “God, you are unbelievable . But yes, I will happily fuck your face. Be good and quiet, okay, sweet thing?”

He has to tell me to be quiet for both of our sakes. I like to get a bit noisy. I like when he fucks my face. I like when he’s a little mean. What else is there to say? “Mhm, promise.”

He nods and thrusts himself into my mouth again, reaching down and taking my hand in his. His thumb bears down on a pressure point in the middle of my palm as he begins to thrust in and out of my mouth, one that’s meant to help get rid of your gag reflex. I don’t know if it’s the placebo effect or if it legitimately works, but either way, I never gag when he holds my hand that way.

I moan quietly around him, my eyes closing and rolling back into my head. I can hear his strained noises, and the hand not holding my own is cupping the back of my head, holding me close to him, forcing me to stay put.

“Honey, you good?” he asks breathlessly. “Not too much? You’re enjoying this?”

I tap his right thigh again, three times. An enthusiastic yes. He sighs out with what I perceive as relief and keeps fucking my mouth.

Andrews movements become less controlled, his sounds less quiet and carefully measured, his grip around my hair tightening. “You take me so well, darling…” he gasps once, then a few minutes later: “that’s it, suck me off. Good girl. My pretty fucking slut. Mine .”

I moan around him at his words, the way he claims me and calls me his pretty slut. I used to never be into this, but we tried it once before the tour started when he was visiting me back home in Oregon, and now… “You look so fuckin’ pretty down there, God . Such a whore for this cock.”

I move with him, my suction increasing around him, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. He’s sloppy and I can feel his pre-cum pooled on my tongue, and I know he’s nearly there. I lick his tip roughly, once, twice, thrice, four times, and he spills his cum into the back of my throat. “ Fuck – yes, good girl. You take my cock so well, honey. You look so pretty when your face is full of me. God .”

His hand is on the back of my head, holding my face close to him as he comes into it. His breathing is heavy, and after a few minutes, his grip loosens, and I pull my face away after I swallow everything down.

I lick my lips and look up at him, then stand up as he buckles his belt again. He glances down at his watch and smiles before tucking in his shirt again and walking over to me. “Two minutes left before I go back on. You are as good as you claim.”

I smile at him, triumphant, and he grabs my hips and presses a deep, violent kiss against my lips. My arms drape around the back of his neck, and I press my forehead against his after I pull away, both of our faces flushed.

“You… I wasn’t too much?” he asks quietly, genuine concern in his eyes.

I shake my head quickly, still smiling. “Not at all, baby. I liked that as much as you did, promise.”

He sighs out and nods, a small smile coming to his face again. “Great. Okay.” he breathes, then pulls away from our embrace.

Andrew presses a kiss to my forehead and quickly starts walking back out to the stage, calling out over his shoulder. “Promise you, I’ll make sure I pay you back for that, my love! You won’t go without! See you after the show, love you!”

I giggle and wave him off. “I love you too!” I call out.

Payback , for once in my life, doesn’t sound bad in the slightest.

[this-isapen]

would anyone care/be interested if I wrote and posted a couple little hozier blurb ideas that are floating around my head, completely unrelated to my current fic but I have thoughts

[sunlight-fics]

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

[starkwlkr]

i’m getting older too | hozier

is this random? yes but i don’t care 🥰 LISTEN I KNOW sweet dreams, tn is a song by the last shadow puppets but let’s just use our imagination with this one ok? 😍

faceclaim orion carloto

INSTAGRAM

liked by billieeilish, carolamtz and 2,366,780 others

yourusername married the love of my life!

billieeilish BEAUTIFUL BRIDE 🤍🤍🤍

bellahadid beauty ✨

lilizneimer congratulations!!

landonorris am i still grounded?

yourusername we’re all good now 🤍

honeymoon such a beautiful ceremony ❤️ in love with your love

ynstyle was every celebrity and f1 driver at this wedding?😭

cherrywin3 girl apparently stevie nicks even performed 😔😭

formulatears I NEED TO KNOW WHAT SHE SANG

cherrywin3 landslide because it’s y/n’s favorite song 😭 y/n’s mom just posted a video of y/n crying while stevie sang it’s too precious 🥹

view all 45,466 comments

liked by landonorris, honeymoon and 2,665,890 others

hozier y/n, my heart is, and will always be, yours. ‘sweet dreams, tn’ a gift from me to my beautiful wife.

hozierarchive HE DROPPED AN ALBUM DURING HIS WEDDING??

ynspodium not just any album but an album full of songs that y/n loves covered by him and some original songs too!!

leclercstype STEVIE NICKS, LANA, LORDE, THE LAST SHADOW PUPPETS, NOAH KAHAN, LORD HURON HE GATHERED THE DEPRESSION AVENGERS AND MADE AN ALBUM FOR HIS WIFE 😭

f1wagsstyle WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN??

yourmomsusername y/n is currently sobbing listening to the album!

ynwdc not mama l/n exposing her daughter 😭 but same!

view all 76,366 comments

liked by hozier, gracieabrams and 2,366,390 others

yourusername 🇮🇪❤️☘️🎵🫶🏼✨💍👰‍♀️🤵‍♂️🤍

landonorris did you have a seizure or….?

yourusername you’re grounded again let me be in love with my hot irish husband on my honeymoon

landonorris you keep that to yourself

f1maeve my brother started watching f1 because of you!! (and he’s hoping to see hozier at a race)

yourusername thanks to your brother!! maybe andrew will finally make an appearance soon 🤍

crybabyprimadonna what’s your favorite song from sweet dreams, tn?

yourusername don’t make me choose!!😭 they all have my heart (but andrew’s cover of landslide with stevie is amazingly beautiful)

hozier wofe

hozier wufe

hozier ife

hozier wafie

hozier woife

yourusername handsome squidward 😍❤️

hozier wife ❤️

charles_leclerc i have no idea what’s going on

yourusername you wouldn’t understand ❤️

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Talk

As a famous singer, you find yourself at the same terrible party as Hozier, but you two decide to do something about it.

Pairing: fem reader x Hozier

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v (protected) sex, fingering, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who waited for this one...I'm so sorry it took so long. Please enjoy, and remember, my inbox is open for requests!

This party sucked.

Somehow, at one of the biggest album release parties of the year, you found yourself bored out of your mind, sipping on a weak gin and tonic. Leaning against a corner wall, the bass of the music from the DJ vibrated through you as you watched other people dance – your bandmates were somewhere amongst them, but for whatever reason, you just weren’t feeling it. Maybe you were just in a mood, maybe it was the music (one good song for every ten awful ones), but you sipped your drink, checking your phone every so often until it became a polite time to excuse yourself. You could already taste the revelry of getting back to your house before midnight – pajamas, Thai takeout, and scrolling aimlessly on your phone while Grey’s Anatomy reruns played in the background.

Suddenly, you saw a head bobbing around the others in the crowd – standing what seemed like almost a full foot above everyone else, his thick, curly hair pulled back in a half bun, he smiled and tilted his head to the music distractedly. Your breath hitched for a moment as you saw him – you had seen Hozier at countless red carpets and events in the past year it seemed, but he was also more handsome than the last time. He turned his head and your eyes locked, making you blush, and making him smile. He gently pressed a hand on someone’s back to alert that he was making his way behind him.

As if the giant could ever go unnoticed.

“Hi,” He said as he landed next to you, sipping from his drink. Something brown and in a rocks glass, one giant ice cube anchoring the liquid.

Of course.

“I feel like I needed to come over and speak to you – we seem to orbit each other at basically every red carpet this year.” He spoke, seemingly reading my mind. You smiled.

“That’s funny – I was just thinking that.”

Hozier nodded and his eyes scanned the crowd before landing back at you. It was like he was staring into your soul. Extending a hand, he smiled, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m –”

“I know who you are,” You admitted, somewhat bashfully as you shook his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” He echoed, a smirk playing on his lips mischievously, “I’m a big fan.”

You could feel your blush deepen as his smooth words washed over you. His accent was enough for you to want to drop your panties, and his smile was already sending your head upside down.

“Your ‘Best New Artist’ win was well deserved,” He continued. “Your album was one of my favorites this year. Selfishly, I hope you guys are working on another one.”

“Wow, thank you,” You breathed, your heart thumping in your chest, “That means a lot coming from one of like, the best lyricists of our generation.”

“Ah,” Hozier waved his hand, bashful, “Come now.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled, “You’re going to write something like ‘I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found, I'd be the choiceless hope in grief, that drove him underground’ and not expect to be considered that?”

He simply shrugged and sipped his drink. He was blushing, embarrassed.

“This album was also very good,” He changed the subject, speaking of the current album release party. He cleared his throat, “Even though this party sucks.”

You laughed and gently grabbed his forearm in agreement, “Yes! What is that about?!”

“I think it’s the DJ,” He admitted, leaning into you, “The guys releasing this album are buddies of mine, but I’m starting to think if I need to end our friendship based on the DJ they picked for this party.”

“The music he’s playing is making me feel old,” You admitted, “I don’t know any of the songs, and I don’t seem to really like it, either. Is this what our parents feel like when we were listening to Good Charlotte and Britney Spears?”

“Not mine. My mom loves Good Charlotte.” His eyes twinkled.

You laughed. Your eyes fell on your bandmates dancing to the music, obviously drunk off of the expensive beer being served at the open bar. You were acutely aware of Hozier standing next to you, his heat seemingly radiating.

“Is it an inappropriate time to tell you that I think you look beautiful tonight?” He asked, his breath warm on your ear as he leaned down to whisper it. Shivers were sent down your back as he spoke. You turned your head and looked at him, trying to play it cool with the smile that played on your lips.

“Probably not, considering how I’ve been thinking about how handsome you look since I saw you from across the room tonight.” You retorted, titling your head. He smiled and nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“I’m reminded of your beauty every time I see you at events,” Hozier said, his hand finding the small of your back, “And, admittedly, every time I scroll your Instagram feed.”

You laughed, “Hozier is my internet stalker, eh?”

“Can you blame me? That number you had on at the Grammy’s this year?” He made a face, whistling, “It took every ounce of strength not to follow your account as soon as you were done presenting on stage.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” You asked, almost interrupting him. He seemed taken aback, so you tried to backtrack, “I mean…in a bit. We could go somewhere where…the DJ doesn’t suck? After we finish our drinks.”

Hozier quickly chucked back the rest of his drink, putting the glass on the nearest table. “Let’s go.” He took your hand as you chugged the rest of yours as well, finding the spot next to his glass for yours.

He guided you through the party, his hand never leaving the small of your back. You felt heat rushing through you as you made your way to front door, and Hozier handed the valet his ticket. He turned to you.

“Did you drive here?”

You shook your head. “Car service.”

“Great. We can take my car then.”

As the valet pulled up in a sleek Audi, Hozier thanked him and handed him a large bill as a tip. He waited until you were situated in your seat before he slid into the driver’s side, closing his door and pulling into traffic. Some sort of blues-y jazz was coming through the speakers softly.

“So where are you kidnapping me to, Mr. Internet Stalker?” You teased, looking out the window at the lights of downtown L.A.

He smiled, “My hotel,” His voice was a low purr. You exchanged a glance as he leaned his head forward, in explanation, “The bar there is really nice. Live jazz band tonight. It’s mellow.”

You nodded and smiled. As your heart raced, you were trying to calm yourself down, fiddling with the clasp on the purse in your lap. Hozier’s arm was resting on the console in between you, and every so often, his hand inched closer to you. By the time he pulled into the swanky hotel parking lot, his large hand was resting gently on your thigh.

Your stomach was in excited knots.

After another valet exchange, Hozier took your hand and led you inside the hotel. It was grand and beautiful – a $500/night type place. To the right of the entrance was a beautiful restaurant, speakeasy in style. As promised, a four-piece band was set up in the corner of the bar, playing soft tunes and creating the atmosphere of an underground jazz club.

“Told you,” Hozier said, raising his eyebrows playfully, “And the drinks are great as well. Had one before the release party.”

“It’s really nice.” You awkwardly agreed. Hozier stopped for a moment, his face unreadable. He stood before you.

“I also have a minibar upstairs in my room, if you want something to drink.”

“Oh, that sounds much better.” The coil in your belly was itching to be sated, and you didn’t know how much you could play this cat-and-mouse game of will they/won’t they. For a moment, a darkness of lust flickered in his eyes, but he simply smiled and took your hand, leading you to the elevator. He scanned his room card and pressed the button to the top floor.

The air in the elevator was thick, heavy. You both stood facing the door, saying nothing. As the doors open and he led you to his suite, your heartbeat doubled in time. Flicking the lights on, he shut the door behind you, placing the lock in it’s place.

It took all of 30 seconds before your bodies crashed together, teeth clacking and moans erupting.

Hozier grabbed you and pushed your floor length dress up so they he was able to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed. Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers finding their way into his hair. You pulled back slightly, your breath ragged already.

“So what the fuck do I call you?” You asked, breathlessly.

Confused, he looked at you, “What?”

“I need to know what I’m saying when I scream your name later…is it Hozier, or is it Andrew?”

He barked out a laugh and bit your lip, “Andrew. Andrew is fine.” He pressed his lips on yours again, dropping on top of you as he guided you to the bed. His large hands ran their way up and down your waist, palming at the skin on your body. He was moaning, grunting into the kiss, as your tongues danced together. You felt his hands leave your waist and slip your heels off, your toes already curling.

Andrew pulled away and slipped off the tweed suit jacket he was wearing. He looked down at you as he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” He murmured, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “So fucking sexy. Every time I see you.”

You moaned and pressed your hips to him slightly, causing him to gasp lightly in surprise. He kissed down your neck, to your collarbone, gently slipping the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders. Licking a stripe from your neck to just above your breasts, he smiled, looking at you.

“Fuck,” You breathed, looking down at him. You watched as he stood, slipping off his shoes and socks next to the bed. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped that off, revealing his thin, hairy chest. He was lean, built lithly but strong. Biting your lip, you stifled a moan. He was on you once again, pulling you into a kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck. His other hand made quick work of the zipper on the back of your dress, and he shimmed it down, before sliding it off of you completely.

Revealing the intricate…shapewear…you wore underneath.

For a moment, both of you stopped breathing, looking down at the ugly, functional corset that covered your body. Embarrassed, you pressed your lips together before looking back at Andrew. Suddenly, both of you were in hysterics.

“I really wish I was wearing some sexy lingerie right about now.” You said, throwing your head back and cackling. Andrew laughed and peppered kisses on your cheeks, shaking his head as he undid the shapewear and took that off as well.

“That was brilliant,” He said, wiping a tear away from laughing, “What a fuckin’ reveal.” As he took it off, you were completely nude, your skin softly pressed against his fingers. He groaned as he took you in, “That’s much better.” His voice was back to husky, low.

He kissed you once more before his fingers found their way to your clit, spreading your legs gently. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as his fingers felt your wetness. Quickly, he inserted two fingers, pushing his long digits all the way in. You moaned and furrowed your brow as he didn’t move for a moment, letting you adjust.

“You’re so wet for me already, darlin’.” He purred, his forehead on yours. You whimpered and nodded. He started to pump inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Immediately you started to squirm, which made me smile.

“Jesus Christ, Andrew.” You said, your eyes flickering to his fingers moving in and out of you. Heat rose in you as you watched him, the pleasure evident on his face as he licked his lips. When your eyes found his again, you found him looking at you, and not his handiwork.

“I love seeing you like this,” He said plainly, “You’re so beautiful when you squirm.”

He increased his speed, causing you to buck your hips. He nodded, his eyes twinkling, as he continued to pleasure you with his fingers. He leaned down to kiss you – a hot, open-mouthed kiss, with his tongue finding yours immediately. You moaned into it as he curved his fingers inside of you and took your bottom lip in his mouth, sucking gently. Pulling away, he dipped his head and moved his tongue to your hardened nipple, sucking on the bud as your body started to convulse under him.

The coil in your belly was tightening, and fast. Your hips started to buck faster, your wetness pooling out on to his fingers. You started to repeat his name like a prayer, and as you moved closer to the edge, your hand found its way into his hair again, tugging lightly.

“I’m close.” You whimpered.

“I know,” He smiled, moving his mouth to your ear, “Come for me. Be a good girl.”

You gasped slightly at his words as the coil snapped, bucking your hips one last time before your orgasm sent waves of pleasure through you. You moaned loudly, gripping the back of his head tightly as he bit down on your earlobe, never stopping his fingers inside of you.

“That’s it,” He groaned, his voice raspy, “That’s it, pretty girl. Give it all to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come for me.”

Your head swam and your heart raced, your eyes squeezed shut because you could focus. The pleasure that was spreading through you was warm, electric – it was one of the best orgasms you had ever had, and it was only with his fingers.

Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.

After a few moments, Andrew slipped his fingers out, causing you to open your eyes, your breath coming in heaving pants. He was smiling, obviously proud. Slowly, he licked his digits as he stood, moaning.

“Jesus, you taste delicious.” He said, looking at you. He undid the button and zipper on his pants, the obvious tent of his arousal very evident before he slipped them off. Down came his pants and boxer briefs, his large member springing free, wet with precum. He made his way over to a duffle bag thrown on a chair in the corner of the room and rifled through it, finally emerging with a condom in between his fingers. Opening it quickly, he slid it on himself, pumping himself a few times as he walked back to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready?” He asked, straddling himself in front of you, continue to stroke himself.

“Actually, if you’re not inside of me within the next few seconds I might lose my fucking mind.” You said, watching him. It was silly, but seeing him touch himself in front of you like that made him seem like a god. He smiled and crawled on top of you, slowly positioning himself at your entrance. As his tip teased your wet folds, you whimpered.

Finally, Andrew slid himself inside of you in a single thrust, his forehead finding yours again. Your moans filled the room, and as he started to pump inside of you, the familiar numb feeling of being filled spread throughout you.

“So good,” You said, closing your eyes and pressing your head to the pillow, “So, so good, Andrew.”

“That’s it,” He said, his breath hitching, “Wanna make you feel good. You make my cock feel so good.” He dipped his head in the crook of your neck as he started to slowly increase his pace, finding himself deeper inside of you. The sound of your wet skin slapping together filled the room, matched only by your breathy groans and his primal grunts.

“Fuck!” You shrieked, Andrew finding a particular spot that made your vision fuzzy. Andrew tilted his head up to look at you and he smiled.

“Yeah? Right there, darlin’?” He asked. You nodded, your brows knitted together. His hand found your chin, holding it roughly, “You like it when I fuck you right there?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Lemme hear you say it, baby.” He gently commanded.

“Fuck. Yes, Andrew, right there!” You said, unable to take your eyes off of him. His eyes darkened as he continued to fuck you, his face flushing.

“My name sounds so good on your lips.” He groaned, continuing to pump in you. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he continued to hit your spot. His hand moved from your chin to your tits, and as he pinched your hardened nipples, you moaned. His thrusts became erratic, irregular.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” You toyed with him, taking a moment to bite down on his bottom lip, “My pussy so good you’re gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” He barked, furrowing his brows, “You’re so fucking tight…you’re so wet…I’m gonna come soon. I’m close,” His face flushed deeper as he stared into your eyes, making your heart thunder in your chest. Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut, his head thrown back, voice parted in a silent moan.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the condom filling with his orgasm. He jerked his hips, almost a spasm, as he moaned your name. His hands gripped the pillows on either side of you, his biceps flexing. You smiled as he finally opened his eyes, almost in submission as he rode out his orgasm. Your hands found their way to his back, gripping him and bringing him closer.

A few moments went by as he stayed inside of you, trying to catch up with his breathing. He placed gentle kisses on your cheek lazily, finally rolling out of you. Standing, he quickly made his way to the bathroom to toss the condom and clean himself up, but laid next to you again, scooping you up in his arms.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He murmured in your ear, his Irish accent coming out with his tired demeanor. You giggled and looked at him, brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear.

“I’m really glad that party sucked so bad,” You said. He chuckled, his eyes still closed. Opening one, he looked down at you.

“Me too…” He paused for a moment, drawing you closer, “Though, even if that party was fun, I still would’ve made my way over to you.”

“Yeah?”

Andrew nodded and shifted so he was propping himself up on his elbow, “Yeah. I had been trying to muster up the courage for like…three awards shows to come over and say hi to you, now. Months worth of time.” He was somewhat bashful. You blushed.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” He reached out and started to brush his fingers through your hair, and you couldn’t help the fluttering in your chest.

That party sucked. But you were glad it did.

---

A/N: I'm actually kind of obsessed with their banter and relationship...should I make this multiple parts?! I was originally only planning on doing this as a oneshot but I kind love them (teehee).

As always, comments and reblogs mean a lot if you liked this one <3 Thanks for reading

[beetboxx]

a siren’s call home - a.h.b x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

”you’re pretty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hush. you’re dreaming.”

“am not.”

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

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

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

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

“no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“seduce? i am merely giving you incentive.”

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

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

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

“and you’re like.. ehm.. a siren.”

you playfully scoffed, “a siren?”

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

“and eating them,” you added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know.”

[pendingnomdeplume]

I saw that requests were open and I was absolutely ecstatic! Would you consider a hozier f/m with friends to lovers and “who did this to you”? Protective andy seems to be my favorite andy lol! Love your ideas and stories!

let's walk the line together pairing: hozier x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Light Angst, Friends-to-Lovers, Car Sex, Unsafe Sex words: 5.1k author's note: so uhhhhh this one got away from me. many such cases. xoxo love u and thank you for your support. hope you enjoy!

REVISION: Added the Unsafe Sex tag! Please, y'all. The pullout method does not work. Make sure to use protection, holy fuck.

[Read it on AO3]

[title from "Still Together" by Mac DeMarco]

divider by: sylusz

You knew it was too good to be true.

You should have listened to your gut. The moment that lad from your Biology class, Adam, asked you to the cinema that weekend, you should have noticed his group of friends snickering behind his back, the lad’s grin made of nothing but twisted cruelty masquerading as kindness, interest.

The cinema wasn’t too crowded that Saturday, all things considered. The bite of February often kept people in their homes, and the shlock lined up for the notoriously worst month of new releases didn’t entice many would-be patrons. A new film with Daniel Radcliffe was on the docket—The Woman in Black. It had received middling reviews, but you liked the cast enough to give it a proper shot.

Anxiety had you at the cinema early, sitting in the adjacent food hall with a small drink you bought mostly so you could keep your hands busy. There was still 15 minutes before Adam was due to arrive, and each second felt like it was creeping by as you shook your leg and swiveled your head on the lookout.

15 minutes went by. Then 20.

After 25 minutes and three inquiring texts, nothing. Normally, you’d worry that something terrible happened, that perhaps he’d been an accident or had some kind of personal emergency. Except, Adam was either a fucking moron or downright fucking evil. His read receipts were on (a newly launched feature that you turned off immediately), and he’d seen every single one of your texts.

After nearly 45 minutes, you pulled your hood up over your head and shoved your hands deep into your hoodie pockets as you trudged out of the food hall with angry tears blurring your vision. Humiliation seeped into your very core as you threw your bag into your car and slammed the door shut.

After a minute of attempting to swallow back your sobs, you finally allowed yourself to break down properly, forehead resting on the wheel as despair swirled in your gut. The sheer intensity of your anger had you pulling out your phone and texting Adam with the calmest, most unflappable demeanor you could muster.

You were never going to show up, were you?

This time, he responded. A crying-laughing emoji taunted you, fueled the pyre of burning sadness within your chest. With a harsh laugh and more tears, you opened your contacts and blocked his number.

Now, it’s nearing 11 PM, and you find yourself driving down barren backroads to the only person you truly want to see at the moment.

It’s too late to knock or ring the bell. One of the dogs will certainly alert the rest of the family of your arrival simply from their jumping and whining for pets and treats. So, you take the alternate route you always have since secondary and begin your ascent up the large, sturdy oak tree that reaches his window.

You should have texted beforehand, but your emotions were running high when you started the engine, and Andrew has never been one to turn you away when you pop up at odd hours. Generally, he’s up anyway, burning the midnight oil as he writes or plucks quiet notes on his guitar up in the attic.

When you spot him, he’s sitting in bed. His back rests against a pile of pillows, his knees drawn up to hold a notebook in place as he scribbles something down. You can’t help but smile at his disheveled appearance—hair sticking at odd ends, wearing ratty plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt with a logo so faded you’re not quite sure what it’s even supposed to be.

You tap on the window, and he jumps, his notebook flying from his hands as his head whips towards the window. Shock turns to confusion as he approaches to open it up. Confusion turns to concern when you crawl in and face him with reddened, puffy eyes and mascara running down your cheeks.

There’s no greetings, no small talk, no quips to lighten the heaviness that resides within you.

Instead, Andrew’s expression shifts into something else—a combination of worry and outrage as he gently grabs your face to study you.

“Jesus…who did this to you? What happened? Are you okay? I mean, clearly not, but I don’t…”

Warmth slips away as he lets you go, and you turn to collapse into his bed with a weary sigh. The mattress dips beside you as you press your face into one of his pillows and attempt to breathe deeply as your throat tightens again. It’s nice, comforting. You’ve spent enough time in this bed that it’s almost like a second home.

“Hey. Talk to me. What the hell happened?” 

A jab to your ribs forces an indignant squeak from you as you turn to look at him again with a sniffle. Andrew’s face is still twisted in disdain that you know isn’t directed towards you. It’s not unusual for him to get like this. You’ve been friends for a long time—long enough to remember him cleaning and bandaging your wounds with the help of his mother after scraping your knees on the pavement.

He’s always been an anxious one, always seemed to be particularly protective of you throughout the entirety of your friendship. Despite his mild demeanor, it’s easy to get him riled up and angry on your behalf. It isn’t always productive, but it makes you feel a little bit better about the circumstances when he rants and raves in agreement with you.

With a half-hearted shrug, you mutter, “Just…people being awful.”

If you didn’t know any better, you might think Andrew has murder on his mind with the way he frowns deeply and furrows his brow.

“I thought you were on a date with that one shi—bloke from your lit class?”

With another sigh, you turn your face back into the pillow before giving a muffled reply. “Bio class. And, I thought so, too.”

“Oh, no.” A pause. “What happened, exactly?”

You finally roll onto your back to stare at the ceiling, still far too embarrassed to properly look him in the eye while your face is red and splotchy.

“There was never a date. It was a fucking joke. Here.” You hand him your phone and allow him to read through the text conversations leading up to your arrival at his window.

“Oh, my god. That’s—wow. That’s fucking deplorable. Jesus Christ.”

Another shrug. “He played me like a fiddle, Andy. I should’ve known, too. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “That’s my friend you’re talking about. You’re not stupid. That guy is a prick for leading you on as a fucking joke. Like, does he truly have nothing better to do with his time? Get a fucking hobby, mate. And, maybe get a conscience while you’re at it.”

For the first time in the last hour, you crack a smile. “Pretty sure this is his hobby. Besides failing bio labs, anyway.”

Andrew snorts. “God, what a catch. Why’d you even agree to go out with a guy like that? I never took you for the—” He gestures vaguely. “I don’t know, the jock type? What is he, even?”

It’s true that Adam isn’t your type. While he played rugby at one point in his life, he’s not really much of an athlete now. Though, it seems he never left his juvenile antics behind on the rugby field. Now, he’s just some fuckin’ lad with little personality, an embarrassing grade point average, and friends who toe the line of enemy at all times.

You mostly agreed to this date simply because he asked. It felt novel to be asked out, sparking some level of hope within you that perhaps you’re not completely repellent. It certainly didn’t hurt that the boy in question is handsome, if traditionally and blandly so. Even if it didn’t work out, it was at least a bit of dating practice that you’ve missed out on since your last boyfriend in your final year of secondary.

“He’s a fuckin’ wetwipe is what he is,” you croak. “The blandest piece of white bread I’ve ever met.”

Andrew huffs. “I’m sorry, I thought I was the holder of that title? How dare he try to dethrone me.”

“Hey.” You turn your head and reach out to poke him. “Now, that’s my friend you’re talking about. You’ve more charm and personality in one finger than he does in his entire body.”

If you’re being truly honest, Andrew falls more into the category of your type. Tall, lanky, soft-spoken, and creative—plus, a kind disposition and a cute smile that makes your heart flutter every now and again.

You’ve long since buried the idea that the two of you could ever be anything more than this. Andrew has never given you any reason to believe that your crush is reciprocated. (Can you even call it a crush when it’s been nearly four years of feeling this way?) A romantic to the bone, you’re certain he wouldn’t be able to hide something like that. Not when his dating history is rife with grand gestures and declarations.

“I suppose,” he shrugs. “Still, you could do better than someone like me, y’know? And you can certainly do better than someone like him.”

There’s a part of you that’s certain he’s gone off the deep end if he really thinks so lowly of himself. It breaks your heart given the person you know him to be—a sweet, caring individual with a big heart and even bigger dreams. How could he possibly think you’re too good for him when the truth is in reverse?

“What are you even talking about? Andy, you could do better than me. ”

He frowns. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re you. You’ve always been…I mean, out of my league is an understatement, yeah? I’m out in the fuckin’ stratosphere.”

“I…you’re not…” You wrack your brain to find any response that isn’t spluttered confusion, nor an accidental confession. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Suddenly, he claps his hands together and says brightly, “Anyway! Fuck that guy. I hope he dies without a priest.”

Something in his demeanor shifts, his shoulders tensing and his jaw tightening. You can feel a sense of unease blanket the room as he refrains from looking in your direction. The hair tucked behind his ear reveals their reddened flush.

Then, he’s up and shuffling about the room, picking up stray rubbish from the floor, fidgeting with items and placing them in other spots. It seems like a futile attempt to seem busy, to keep his hands occupied while he continues avoiding your stare.

You sit up and cross your legs on the mattress as you watch him flit from one side of the room to the other. Slowly, carefully, you ask, “Andy…are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” His tone is still too chipper, too forced. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You blink. “Right, and this is a very convincing performance on your part.”

With a sigh, he turns to look at you again, face red and eyes cast downward. “It’s just—I hate seeing you so miserable over some rat bastard who doesn’t matter, y’know? You deserve better than that.”

“You’ve said that, yeah,” you reply with a nod and a raised eyebrow.

“It kills me to see you unhappy, is all. You’re so…” He trails off and turns his back to you again.

“I’m so…what?”

Andrew goes quiet, his head bowed in thought. Finally, he shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively.

“Nothing, forget it. I’m not sure where I was even going with that. The point is, you are a lovely person, and you deserve the world. Just…don’t let someone like that fucking guy get you down. I’m sure there are plenty of other lads who’d kill for a shot with you.”

You laugh dryly. “Have you got a list of potential suitors for me? It’s not like I’ve a queue of lads waiting outside my door.”

There’s a pause before he replies in a clipped tone, “No. I don’t. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Anxiety swirls in your gut. “I…okay. I was joking.”

“Right.”

Silence fills the space and gaps between you as you pick at a thread on your jeans. It’s nice that he cares about your well-being. It’s nice that he wants the best for you. You’re just not sure what to say, not even sure how to react when he’s being this cagey. This reaction seems so much bigger than it should be, and you can’t figure out what part of your stupid joke even upset him.

The tension becomes too heavy, weighing on your chest until you suck in a deep breath and swing your legs over the side of the bed.

“All right, well…thanks for letting me in. I should’ve just texted. I’ll do that next time.”

You make your way to the window again and open it up before straddling the sill to find leverage on a thick branch. Once you have three reasonable points of contact on the oak, you glance back to find him watching you with a frown. You give him a smile that’s more of a grimace and a short wave before beginning your slow descent down.

You trudge along the pavement feeling defeated. A faux date is one thing, but being iced out by one of your best friends is another. It seems your joke really rubbed him the wrong way, and you feel terrible for it. It wasn’t a genuine ask, wasn’t even in the realm of possibility when your friends are his friends, and vice versa.

There’s a lump in your throat that’s difficult to swallow down. This second disappointment tonight somehow hurts so much more than the first. You’ll have to properly apologize later, but right now, you just want to make it to your car.

The sound of heavy footsteps startles you, and you turn to see Andrew jogging after you with a few twigs and leaves stuck in his hair. The image makes you grin despite yourself. When he halts in front of you, you reach out to pluck a twig from his curls.

“Did you climb down the fucking tree?” You laugh. “Andy, it’s your house.”

He shrugs, breathing still a bit labored as he replies, “Yeah, well, I was already halfway down when I realized that the front door might have been a better option. Also, I’m sorry. I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to be weird. I just wanted…you don’t have to go.”

Your smile falters a bit as you look down at the ground. “Ah, I’m sorry, too. About the friend comment, I mean. I wouldn’t actually date any of those guys, god bless ‘em. I was just…trying to make light of a shitty situation, I guess. I’m sorry for making it weird.”

“I…it’s not about that.” He shakes his head, and you watch a leaf fall to the ground. “Not really.”

“Then, what is it about?”

There’s a pause as he fidgets with the sleeves of the hoodie he threw on before chasing after you. A cursory glance is dropped immediately when he meets your gaze, and you’re surprised to find that he’s blushing all the way to his hairline.

Finally, he lets out an awkward laugh as he scratches at the back of his head.

“Fuck me, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Andrew, for God’s sake. Say what?”

Another pause as he smooths a hand over his hair. “I don’t understand how someone could be so cruel to you when you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, the wind damn near knocked out of you entirely as you start to put the pieces together.

Before you can say a word, he continues. “What I was saying earlier…you’re so many things that I…I couldn’t name just one. You’re kind, and intelligent, and caring, and compassionate, and so fucking beautiful, I can’t wrap my head around the idea that anyone would fumble a chance with you. Especially as a fucking joke.”

Your face begins to burn, and a lump rises in your throat.

“I’m…not great at hiding my jealousy. The friend thing, I…I don’t want you to date our friends. Because, I want to be the friend that you date.”

For a moment, it feels like the world stops spinning. You stare at him, mouth agape as you process this confession that you’ve only ever dreamed of hearing.

“You…want me?” You let out an incredulous laugh as your conversation comes into perspective.

Andrew wants you—has wanted you for an indeterminate amount of time, and the only thing holding him back was the exact same fear that you’ve held for so long. Why flirt with inevitable rejection when you don’t see yourself as good enough? It’s much easier to avoid that pain than invite it in for tea.

Meekly, he says, “I’m not quite sure how to interpret this reaction...”

 “Andrew! I have spent years—! And, you just—! I never thought—!” Finally, you firmly grip his shoulders and shake him vigorously. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?!”

Andrew breaks out into a grin, his shoulders slumping forward in relief as he realizes that his feelings aren’t unrequited at all. Then, he throws up his hands in faux outrage as he cries, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you’d be more obvious about it!”

“Oh, my God, I don’t think I could have been any more obvious about it!”

You laugh again as he slips his arms around your waist and tugs you closer, closing the gap between you with your hands still firmly on his shoulders.

“Maybe you’re just bad at flirting,” you tease.

“Or, maybe you are just oblivious. Do you think I let just anybody climb into my window at all hours of the night? That privilege only belongs to you.”

Oh.

You…didn’t know that. Really, it’s not something you’d ever thought about. You’d done this for so long, it just felt…natural. Just a special part of your friendship. You hadn’t considered that it might be…not a romantic gesture, but something close to it. He wants to be there for you however he can—therefore, window privileges at whatever fuckass hour you decide to pop up.

Your face goes hot as you think of every grasp of his hand as he pulled you through his window, every offer of tea and biscuits that he allowed you to eat in his bed despite the crumbs, every impromptu visit when you’d had a terrible day, every acquiescence of what to watch while pretending he wasn’t completely fixated on every second of Mob Wives.

Okay, maybe you are a wee bit oblivious. Though, you’ll be damned if you say that to Andrew right now, mostly out of stubbornness and annoyance that he’s right.

“Andy, will you just kiss me already?”

So, he does.

At first, it’s tentative, unsure as you allow your arms to wrap loosely around his neck. Before long, he has you held flush against him as you, whining between each slide of your tongue against his. Walking you backwards until you’re pressed against the dark wooden fence with your fingers threaded in his hair. His thigh slips between your legs, providing warmth and friction as you whine and rub against him. You’re panting as he pulls away, your face hot and your body buzzing with need. Perhaps it’s not entirely kosher to sleep with him when you’ve only just admitted your true feelings. But, there’s years to make up for, and with the way you feel his erection pressed against you, it seems like Andrew may be in agreement.

“I want you.” It slips out before you can think twice, but Andrew seems unfazed. In fact, he seems delighted by the prospect. (Or, at least you think he is with the way he plants fervent kisses along your neck.)

Then, he rasps with a little laugh, “I don’t think we can go back inside for that. Not right now. Don’t think we’d be quiet enough.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s fair.” You pause as an idea comes to mind. “However…there is a perfectly good, spacious RAV4 that you always mock parked right over there.”

“Okay, that thing used to smuggle drugs, I’m telling you. Number one, it’s green. Number two, the entire interior was stripped and replaced. Number three, didn’t your dad buy it from some dodgy character in Tallaght?”

You sigh and bring your hands up to cup his face as you ask slowly, “Andrew…do you want to have sex in the possible drug mule car, or no?”

A pretty, pearly laugh. “Obviously.”

Thankfully, the backseats are still folded down from helping your friend move the week prior, and you’ve never been so glad for your own laziness.

“In,�� you point before crawling in after him and pulling the door shut.

You’re on each other in record time. Fingers thread into hair, hands sneak beneath clothing, and teeth graze tender skin until the windows are fogged and your neck is aching with bruises that will be a bitch to cover for the next week. He gasps against your skin when you touch him—a soft, light noise that breaks into a small groan as you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband to brush against his rigid cock.

Just as quickly as you touch him, he grasps your wrist and bats your hand away with a sheepish laugh.

“This will be over very quickly if you keep doing that.”

You smile devilishly as you drag your other hand against the obvious bulge in his pajama bottoms, and he whimpers in response, one large hand covering yours as he ruts up against your palm.

“Evil,” he murmurs before capturing you in another heated kiss.

Logistically, this was perhaps not the most sound idea. Andrew is the size of a baby giraffe, and the back of the car doesn’t allow too much wiggle room for any kind of activities. However, the lack of reasonable space is entirely made up for by his enthusiasm (despite the few times he’s thumped his head on the roof so far.)

It’s late enough that the likelihood of getting caught is low, though not zero. Both of you are aware that you may be working on borrowed time, so disrobing is kept to the essentials only. You hastily pull your jeans and pants down to your knees as he does the same.

“Next time,” he pants as he tugs roughly at your hips to better position you as you find leverage on the front driver’s seat. “Next time, I want to see all of you.”

You whine as he brushes two fingers along your slit and marvels at the slick wetness he collects, as though he’s startled by your reaction to him, to his touch.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you thighs twitch in response. Then, you look back and grin. “Good, because next time, I want to suck you off.”

Andrew scrunches his eyes shut and groans. “Please, don’t put images in my head right now. The current situation is already tenuous at best.”

Finally, you feel the tip of his cock tease your entrance, hesitating for only a moment before pressing into you slowly. It’s easy work given the arousal that coats your thighs, but the stretch of him still makes you ache, still makes you clench around him until he halts and gathers himself with a few deep breaths.

You let out the groan you’ve been biting back when he bottoms out, his hips flush against you. The sheer size of him has you gasping and rolling your hips as you adjust until a hand on your lower back stops your squirming. Without a word, he pulls back and presses into you again, still slow, still steady, but you can feel his restraint as his fingers dig into your hip.

Soon, you’re meeting back against every thrust with loud cries as the lewd sounds of arousal and skin-on-skin ring out. He’s not much better, panting and whining between whispered expletives mixed with your name. The car is most certainly rocking now, but you can’t really bring yourself to care when it feel this fucking good.

Tense heat builds in your gut at a surprising speed, and you bring a hand down to touch yourself, to chase the feeling. You let your head fall forward with a gasp, pleasure tingling along your spine and tightening in your gut.

All it takes is a few frantic circles against your clit to send you spiraling, twitching and clenching around him as you try to bite back the sob that bubbles up in your chest.

Suddenly, he’s pulling out with a whispered warning. After a few strokes, warm stickiness drips along your lower back, and he apologizes between heaving breaths.

“Oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He laughs nervously, and you feel the warmth wiped away with the hem of his shirt before you sit up on your knees to reorient and redress.

When you turn to face him, he immediately pulls you in for another kiss that has you tipping backwards until your back hits the floor. You giggle as he begins to press loving kisses to your face, to your neck, anywhere he can reach.

The headlights of an oncoming vehicle startle you both. When you peek through the back window, a Garda car slowly rolls down the road. You can make out two Gardai in the front, but they don’t seem to pay your car any mind as they continue on their route. You finally let out the breath you’ve been holding and look at Andrew with a grin.

“Perfect timing, aye?”

Andrew snorts and shakes his head with a relieved sigh. “Aye, seems like it.”

The coast is clear when you open the door. The crisp night air cools the sheen of sweat on your forehead, and you suck in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“Well…” he starts as he rubs the back of his neck, still smiling. “I’m not quite sure…”

“Yeah,” you laugh uneasily in return. “I should probably—it’s late, and I don’t want to—I mean, I should probably get home.”

A pause, then Andrew says,  “You don’t have to go. Unless you want to, of course.”

With a soft smile, you crowd into his space and allow him to envelop you in his arms, your head resting against chest as you nuzzle against his shirt.

“Come back inside with me,” he says before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Please.”

The two of you decide that the risk of waking the family by walking in the front door is objectively better than Andrew attempting to climb the tree back to his bedroom—something he hasn’t done in years. Not since you were both 18 and attempting to seek refuge after a few too many at a party.

Thankfully, the house is still when you tiptoe inside. If the dogs heard you, neither of them care enough to investigate the disturbance. There are no heavy, sleepy footsteps to be heard as Andrew quietly latches the door, so you figure you’re safe for the time being.

“C’mon,” he whispers as he takes your hand into his own and leads you back upstairs.

You hold your breath as you shuffle by his parent’s room, his brother’s room, until you finally make it to the safety of his bedroom at the end of the hall. He ushers you inside and carefully closes the door behind him.

“Okay,” he says as he slumps back against it. “I think we’re good.”

Despite everything that’s just occurred, there’s something fundamentally different about undressing in front of him in the light. You turn your back to him before unbuttoning your jeans.

“You say that like I’ve never been caught in your room before.”

When you turn, Andrew is changing his shirt, and you’re met with the pale expanse of his back, the dip of his spine, the edges of his ribs before a black t-shirt obscures him. You’ve seen him without a shirt before, but never like this. Never in this context. Never with the explicit permission to touch him, to marvel at him the way you’ve avoided doing for so long.

“Right, well, I think finding you sleeping one off in my bed while I’m hungover and dying on the floor is a bit different.”

The bed creaks as you crawl beneath the covers, as he slips into bed next to you and immediately collects you into his arms. He reaches over to pull the switch on his bedside lamp, and the room goes dark, only a sliver of moonlight peeking in through the window.

The two of you whisper in conversation, mostly recounting all of the obvious signs of Andrew’s affections towards you and your total obliviousness to it all. You make a few clarifications of your own, citing a few incidents where you said something too forward or did something too intimately familiar, and Andrew huffs a little laugh before telling you that he remembers those moments and still holds them close—a little piece of hope in his agonizing crush. The idea that he cherishes what you’ve deemed to be the most awkward moments of your friendship is sickeningly sweet, and you hide your blushing face and shy smile in the crook of his shoulder.

Eventually, your whispers die out as the two of you settle, and you close your eyes to fall asleep to the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

xxx

A soft knock stirs you from your slumber, and you blink blearily as Andrew’s bedroom door slowly opens. You’re met with the surprised expression of his mother as she takes in the scene before her—you, disheveled and bruised, curled up next to her still-sleeping son with an arm thrown over him.

With a bright smile, she whispers, “Good morning, dear. I’ve got a pot of coffee brewing if you’d like some.”

You smile back meekly as you sink beneath the covers to hide the hot flush creeping along your cheeks. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

There’s a pause as she idles in the doorway. Then, she sighs and shakes her head, still smiling.

“I’m glad he finally said something,” she says quietly. “You two have always been…”

She trails off, but you understand her meaning. Always been right for each other. Always made sense.

“I’m glad he said something, too,” you agree as you look upon his sleeping face affectionately.

Once his mother scurries away, you lean in and press a kiss to his forehead, causing him to stir but not wake. Andrew likely won’t be awake for another hour or so, when the sun is high in the sky. You don’t have the heart to wake him when he looks so peaceful, when you know that his sleeping schedule is absolute rubbish now that he’s no longer in school.

You decide that coffee can wait. There’s little that can pull you away from the warmth and coziness of his bed, of his sleeping form as you snuggle up to him. He shifts as you rest your head on his chest, his eyes barely cracking open to smile at you before pulling you closer.

[beat-the-morning]

AFTER-CONCERT FEAST

Rating: +18

Relationships: Hozier/Reader

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

Word count: 1.7k

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

Fic under the cut💜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Twelve hours.” You interrupted him

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

“Yes.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You definitely are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for doing it.” You smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re horrible.” You fake pouted.

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

“You're lucky I do.”

“I know.”

[crimsonred-hi]

Age Gap - Headcannons

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x younger!Reader

✨Before your dating✨

• When you too meet, your would be a smaller musician who is his new opening act. And he would be friendly, but I think he’s a bit scared of anyone much much younger than him, he’s definitely scared of gen z because of how manic they all are. He would assume your like that too.

• He wouldn’t be very flirty with you like he is with everyone else, being dreadful aware of your gap in age. But when he starts to loosen up around you, he would give compliments on your performance.

• He is an incredible help.

• He teaches you things about the music industry and how it works, who to stay away from. If you’re very naive about that stuff he would probably try and protect you at all costs.

• Like, the man walks you back to your hotel room while on tour because he’s genuinely scared of you getting bombarded by people.

- he also holds onto your arm or elbow as he walks you back, not wanting to lose you.

• He’ll make jokes about your being young and naive, calling you things like ‘Bambi’ and ‘fawn’ just to emphasise that your a baby in his eyes (not really a baby, but a creature to be protected).

• He’s rather protective. You, him and his band go on nights out sometimes, you tend to be approached by other men, and Andrew (being the spectacular gift to women from god he is) will protect you.

• He thinks your too naive to notice when these men are sketchy, your not, but you let him ‘protect you’ because it makes him feel useful (and all men like being useful).

• This need to protect you is kind of how Andrew figures out he’s catching feelings. Alex one day makes a comment about Andrew ‘being soft’ on you and about how Andrew calls you so many pet names.

• Andrew tried to deny there pet names, he didn’t win that argument.

• After one that conversation, Andrew starts overthinking about the situation, you’re so much younger than him and he’s noticeably soft on you. What are people gonna think of him, it’s kinda weird in his head, and the more he thinks about it the age gap seems to feel larger.

• It gets to the point he’s not even talking to you because he’s over thinking it.

• You have to corner him in a room to get him to speak to you. “Andrew, why aren’t you talking to me?” He tries to deny that as well, but fails when he figures out you’re not dense.

• It doesn’t take a lot of persuasion for him to spill his guts to you, telling you every feeling he has. He was too emotional to realise that he’s just told you he’s into you.

• You have to calm him down before you say anything to him,

• And just as your about to talk to him your called onto stage. Really horrific timing.

• After the show, Andrew is filed with adrenaline, so on the adrenaline high he pulls you away from everyone. And you can figures the rest out.

[nevergonnaloveagain-hey]

Hozier Dating Headcannons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2!!

[drsnowrose]

I can't believe this has reached its end.

I have enjoyed this story SO much, It has made me SO emotional. It was truly a safe place for me this year. And I also learned so many new poems!

thank you so much @padfootagain, this was amazing 🤍

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.’

[blurpsiee]

How long you would wait for me?

Bard!Hozier x Princess!oc

chapter I/II/..

CW : None

The grand hall was buzzing with the sound of the instruments and the loud chatter of the present lords and ladies. The sound of harps and gitterns filled every last corner. Everyone was enjoying the ball organized by the king. Everyone except the princess, her normally graceful features arboring a gloomy expression.

As the feast started, Aoife feigned a headache to her father to find an escape for her boredom. While roaming the garden of her castle, the girl heard the distant sound of a gittern. She approached, growing closer and closer to the alluring sound. 

To her surprise, a stranger was standing under a tree, playing his instrument for himself clearly not planning to be heard nor seen. Aoife approached quietly before clearing her throat.

"Not enjoying the feast ?" She asked with a slightly teasing tone.

The young man startled, stopped. "Oh for feck sake!" he swears, turning around , his face paling in an instant "Your Highness." he said embarrassed.

She let out a quiet chuckle, "I thought bards were obligated to play and tell stories during the feast.", she said, eyeing the man she had in front of her. He was tall, taller than any men she had seen, long auburn locks were loosely put into a bun, strays of hair arboring his face.

The man stood there, too shocked to speak or maybe too scared of what would happen if it came to the king's ears that one of the bards was sneaking off and wandering around the castle.

"Did you get your tongue cut off ?" the princess asked, snapping him out of his whirling thoughts "or maybe you are deaf ? I asked for your name?" she repeated, putting care at mouthing each word.

"Andrew, Your Highness." he said, a slight panic in his voice, "I didn't mean to...", he trailed off, realising he had no excuse.

Aoife looked at him intensely. "What were you playing ?" She cut him off, her voice quieter than before.

"Just something I wrote." he mumbled.

"Play it again for me, will you." she said, sitting down on the grass with a soft smile harbouring her face.

The bard racked his throat, wanting to protest but the more he looked at her, the more he gave in. He sat down taking his gittern back on his knee as he began playing again.

Aoife listened, humming a few notes quietly, lost in her own thoughts as she observed Andrew and the way his fingers were dancing over the strings while the falling night settled in.

As Andrew played the last few notes, a comfortable silence had been installed and the long forgotten sound of the feast could be heard from afar.

"Aren't the festivities in your honor, your Highness?" he finally asked.

Aoife only hummed in response, her eyes closed as she appreciated the feeling of the grass on her skin. "Does the king pay you to play at the feast or to his daughter in the garden ?" she asked.

Andrew only hummed as a response, laying down next to her on the grass.

“Why are you out here anyway ?” She asked, her gaze still fixed on the stars slowly appearing into the sky.

The bard turned his head observing the princess for a few seconds, before responding.

“Will you tell the king?” He asked, avoiding the question.

‘’I won’t as long as you play for me again” she responded not even sparing a glare at him.

He kept his eyes fixed on her for a few moments before looking back at the sky.

“I will be gone by dawn,your Highness.” he said quietly.

“At the morrow?” she asked, surprise lacing her tone.

Andrew nodded without a word. The silence got thicker, the sound of crickets and locusts getting louder.

“Then you should play for me one last time… maybe even sing,” Aoife spoke with an unsure tone “if you can of course.” she said carrying on that usual teasing in her tone.

Andrew looked at her quit embarrassed by her request “Ehm..I’m a bit rusty, your Highness.” he said obvious uncertainty in his voice

Aoife looked at him clearly deceived by his words “Never heard of a bard who can’t sing”, she said getting up “Maybe that’s why you were hiding in the garden all along.” 

The bard looked at her lost of words. “No..no I can sing it’s just..” he said with embarrassment creeping to his cheeks, turning them slightly crimson.

“You really are bad craig,” she said, leaving the poor bard alone in his misery, “Slán.” her voice bitter. 

Andrew leaned against the tree, defeatedly, watching her walk back to the castle.

--> Chapitre II

[this-isapen]

Gentle Mornings

As promised, here's a short (and I mean SHORT) little blurb from my brain

Don't know if I'll post on ao3 or not, but she's here for your reading enjoyment.

Word Count: 562

No warnings, just fluff

The sunlight has begun to shine through the windows, gently streaming through the curtains. The morning was as soft and cozy as their shared bed. At least until the blaring sound of her alarm startles them both into consciousness. 

Her hand blindly reaches out to hit the stop button on her phone screen. She’s just about to force herself out of bed when there’s a shift in the weight on the mattress next to her and a familiar arm snakes around her torso, pulling her close. 

“Andrew,” she murmurs tiredly, trying to keep her tone firm.  

He groans in reply, nuzzling into her neck. “Stay.” 

“Baby, I have to get ready for work,” she reminds him gently. 

“No,” he grumbles as he throws a leg over her own in an attempt to secure her in place. He couldn’t stand being ripped from his cuddle session this early.  

She can’t help but laugh at his tired ploys to get her to skip work and stay home with him. She’d be lying if she said the offer wasn’t tempting, the warmth of his skin incredibly inviting. She tries to disentangle herself from his embrace, but her struggle was useless. 

“Andy, c’mon.” 

“You don’t even need to work, you know I’m more than capable of taking care of you,” he mumbles into her skin. 

She lets out a breath, choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now since he was half asleep. “And you know that’s not what this is about,” she hums lightheartedly.  

“Sorry, darlin’ - I didn’t mean...” 

“I know you didn’t,” she assures him. “But if you don’t let me go, I’m seriously going to be late.” 

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles against her skin. 

“Five.” 

“Why do you hate me?” he groans dramatically. 

She rolls her eyes despite knowing her can’t see it. “Because you make me late for work,” she deadpans. 

“Ouch,” he chuckles. 

“Love youu,” she grins, dragging out the last word. 

“Mm you too,” he mumbles, eyes shutting involuntarily. 

The next five minutes pass way too quickly for either of their liking, their embrace feeling too comfortable and natural to justify breaking it. Andrew has managed to already fall back asleep in the short time frame, and she carefully manages to slip out of his grasp with just enough time to take a quick shower before she needs to leave.  

She’s pulling her hair back into a clip, deciding that she wouldn’t have enough time to properly manage it today, when she walks back into the bedroom to find Andrew on her side of the bed with his head against her pillow. Smiling to herself, she leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead before turning to leave the room for the final time that morning. 

Even in his sleeping state, he was aware to some extent and reaches out to grab her wrist. 

“Don’t go.” 

“We’ve been over this,” she laughs softly. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Silently frustrated that he couldn’t convince her to stay, he briefly pulls her hand to his lips. 

“Have a great day, baby.” 

“You need to let go of my hand first.” 

She receives a grumble in response as he turns his face further into the pillow, finally releasing her from his grip. She giggles at her husband’s antics as she leaves the room. 

“See you tonight, Andy.” 

[shrike-fic]

inexperienced reader x 'i secretly play the flute thinking about you (respectfully)' hozier?

Sorry this took so long yall, I’m constantly busy with…….. interesting stuff. Hope you enjoy :)

⭐️ Hozier zerkin it ⭐️

Warnings: smut pure smut

—————————————————

Andrew got home late into the night after one of your bar excursions. His head was swirling with cheap beer and whiskey laced memories of just a few hours ago, going over what happened as to maybe have some sort of recollection of any of it in the morning. Thoughts of you dancing together, taking shots together, laughing together plagued him as he swayed through the house.

Briefly grinning to himself at this secret admiration for you, he’s taking his coat off and practically ripping his shoes off after he gets into his room. As much as he’d love to pass out on his worn in bed right then and there, he figures it’d be unhygienic to sleep in his bed with clothes that he’d been in all day. In his hazy mind, he stands up with a groan, grabs his shower towel and starts walking towards the house’s bathroom.

As Andrew prepares his shower and strips down, he can’t help but think of some things that you.. drunkenly confessed to him. You confided to him about some things that you may or may not (definitely have not) done. He was shocked of course, how could a girl like you not have men practically falling at your feet? Lighthearted teasing ensued between the two of you concerning who had done what and where and when, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around what you said.

He steps in, his feet hitting the cool tile, and his hand having a matching feeling pressed to his palm as he uses the wall to steady himself. Turning on the water, he melts into the much needed steady warm stream that was pouring over him.

God, how nice it would be if you were in there with him.

He knits his brows at the thought of that, face turning pink with nobody but the droplets on his skin and the shower head to witness it. He feels slightly guilty from this, with you being his closest friend thinking of you in this way seemed wrong. But some part of him knew that deep down thats what he really wanted. Desperately wanted. His head wasn’t getting any clearer the longer he spent in the shower, which made him feel dirty no matter how well he cleaned the whole of himself.

The longer he stayed in that shower, the longer that heat grew between his legs. He knew he was half-hard by now, his dick practically begging to be touched. He harshly sighed out, almost a scoff, and quickly turned the water to cold to maybe sober him up and get rid of some of these dirty thoughts. What was he, a teenager?

With his hair being scruffed up in a towel, and some boxers haphazardly thrown on, he made his way back into his room where he so desperately wanted to collapse in. He fell back into his bed, letting his legs kick up a bit at that motion. After laying there with his legs hanging off the bed, he decides to swing them up and under the covers where the rest of him follows. He rubs his face with both of his hands, knowing deep down how utterly screwed he is. You had just confessed a deeply personal secret to him, and he’s being plagued with all the things that he’d love to do to you.

Heaven knows the splash of cold water on himself didn’t work. It hardly sobered him up, but it did nothing to keep those deliciously hedonistic thoughts out of his head. So there he was, knees slightly bent with his stomach clenched and his hand working his stiff and leaking cock up and down. His head was tossed to the side of his pillow, thrown back with his knitted brows framing his strained face, and his clean pair of boxers somewhere in his messed up sheets.

His lips were parted, with wanton groans and quickened breath spilling out of it. Oh how he wished it was your hand instead of his. His breath hitched and let out a desperate noise at the thought of this, quickening his pace, moving his other hand to comb through his hair.

He wondered how your hand would feel. Softer and smaller than his, not as confident in your actions, yet still wanting to help please him the best you could. His thoughts raced from your hands, to your lips, to what you would taste like. How he’d kill to find all of this out; to experience all of you. His mouth falls open deeper, with his desperate noises becoming louder and needier the longer he stroked his leaking cock.

Pre cum was dribbled on his pale lower stomach, his hips slightly bucking into his thoroughly moving hand. Thumb rubbing up against the hot red tip of his cock provided the perfect amount of friction to get him so close to falling off that edge. His back arching and him twitching in his own hands, he could see stars in behind eyes and feel the knot in his stomach snap as he pumped himself those last few times.

One last cry, and Andrew was sloppily bucking his hips into his hand releasing his cum onto his stomach and fingers. He pumped himself through it, nearing to the point of overstimulation— he just couldn’t get enough of you. Finally he released his spent dick from his hand, and laid there with a mess all over himself. After catching his breath for a minute, he reached over to his nightstand and cleaned himself off with a tissue. Cursing himself lightly as to why he would bother to take a shower just to do this to himself directly afterward.

He wasn’t totally free of guilt after finishing to the thought of you, he just didn’t really know how to deal with it. The best solution he could come up with? Sleep it off. Which would be great, but who the hell is calling him at such a late time? He groggily reaches over to the nightstand to pick up his phone ready to grumble at whoever was calling him at an hour like this, only to realize it was your name at the top of his screen.

He answers the phone, feeling a bit more guilty than before.

“Hey.. ehm… are you alright? Why are you calling this late?”

“You were supposed to call me when you got home, I was worried you hadn’t made it or something” You say with a slight scolding voice.

“Ah I’m very sorry, I was.. in the shower.”

He cringes at himself and covers his eyes with his hand.

[willowlovesthingsss]

i need tumblr to add a saved feature 😭😭 so many amazing fics i will never see again