Andrew Hozier Byrne - Tumblr Posts

nobody tweets like hozier...I love him so much

Broken Chords: Slow dancing in a burning room

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I don't even know what to say, I couldn't not write it.

Summary: the morning after their night together, Andrew and Y/n struggle to deal with the aftermath of their tattered relationship.

Warnings: Angst.

Read part one here.

She's up before he is. Y/n actually thinks she can remember every time he’s woken up before her; usually on her birthday or sometimes on their anniversary – when he remembers it – to make her breakfast and tea. Outside of those days though, she can count on Andrew waking up at around nine or ten in the morning – unless he’s going for a swim with his buddies.

And even then, when he gets back at seven, just because he knows it’ll annoy her, he’d strip down to his boxers and get back into bed next to her, smelling of the sea and pressing his salty body as close to hers as possible. He’ll stay there until he convinces her to get into the shower with him, which never really took that much effort at all.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Y/n carefully extracts herself from Andrew’s embrace and sits up against the headboard. Gathering the sheets over her chest, she watches him sleep; the even breaths keeping his lips parted ever so slightly, the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders and the hair strewn over his face. Because Andrew’s always been a fairly strong sleeper, she doesn’t think much of it when she reaches over to move a few messy strands away from his cheek, letting the back of her fingers linger near his jaw.

She misses that; being the only person he’d let get that close. Touch his face, hold his hand, taste the whiskey right off his lips.

Y/n used to think she'd do it forever. Or at least, for the rest of their lives. But she knows Andrew well enough to know that it probably isn’t in the cards for them. Every time they’re together, it takes everything in her being to remember that the pair of them aren’t exactly compatible – sometimes love isn’t enough.

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how much you feel, or how deeply you feel it, it just isn’t enough. The compromises start feeling like a chore and the sacrifices become another way to punish yourself.

After ghosting her thumb along the top of his cheek, Y/n finally pulls her hand away. A quick glance at the clock mounted to the wall proves that she’s long missed her flight, but of course, she doesn't mind if it means soaking up a couple more hours with him – and delaying the inevitable.

The hurt in his eyes. The promises that it won’t happen again. The way he doesn’t let her hand go, even as she’s walking away, so the very tips of their fingers are touching until they're literally out of each other’s reach.

That last kiss until the next one, the one that neither of them wants to break because in that moment, the just the thought of not doing it again is far too much.

The inevitable; getting on that plane and going home. Crying in the shower and then stripping the sheets off her bed because they make her think of him.

But in the essence of delaying the inevitable, she doesn’t want to think about that right now.

Shoving the blanket away, Y/n slips out of bed and snatches Andrew’s shirt from the night before off the floor. The fabric is silky and cool as it settles on her shoulders, and the hem falls past the middle of her thighs. She closes up a few buttons and then rolls up the sleeves so they aren’t swallowing her hands up before stealing away to the bathroom to quickly freshen up.

By the time she emerges from the small, adjoining bathroom, Andrew has turned onto his stomach and stretched an arm out to the vacant spot on the bed. The sheets are even more of a mess then before and she’s barely resisting the urge to get back in next to him; tuck herself under the weight of his arm and feel warmth rise up in her chest when he pulls her against his own.

Though, when another cautious step forward consequents her accidentally kicking his pants from the night before, Y/n stops to look at them on the floor. There’s something sticking out of the pocket, she can see enough of it to peak her interest but not enough to know what it is. So she picks it up.

A picture.

She sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the image, immediately recalling exactly when it was taken. London; October 5th, 2019. Though, considering what they’d gotten up to that night, it could have very well been the earliest hours of October sixth.

Sinking to the floor, she presses her back to the side of the ottoman near the foot of the bed. Everything about that night is so clear to her; the energy radiating off him right before the show, the roughness of his denim jacket when he’d draped it over her shoulders as they walked back to the car that would take them to the hotel. The taste of his mouth; whiskey, and something sweet.

The sound of his voice every time he said, “tonight’s gonna be special.”

In retrospect, October fifth – or sixth – was really the night that changed everything. The beginning of the end.

“Morning.” Y/n jumps a little when Andrew’s voice startles her out of her little trip down memory late. She must’ve been lost in thought for a while, because when she glances up at him, the mess of his hair has been remedied by long, tired fingers and he’s pulled on his boxers.

“Morning,” she mumbles, looking down at the picture again, “I didn’t realize you still had this."

Andrew shrugs, sinking down onto the floor in front of her, “its been right where you left it.” I’ve been right where you left me, he wants to add, but holds his tongue. He watches intently as she traces the pad of her thumb over the image of them on a hotel room sofa, with plastic cups filled with booze in their hands and her half-sat on his lap. God, the weight of her in his arms; he’ll do anything to make that a staple of his life again.

“I thought you were gonna propose that night,” she elicits softly, head still bent.

“What?” He rasps, furrowing his brows.

Y/n shakes her head, feeling silly about it all these years later. “You kept saying that it was a special night.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant now,” she swallows harshly, “and I know you –I knew you. So I should've known better. But I was so…..caught up in wanting that with you, I guess I’d hoped you changed your mind.” He’d always been so clear that marriage, and maybe even kids, wasn’t something he was very interested in, and for years Y/n had convinced herself that she loved him more than she wanted either of those things.

But then her friends started getting married and having babies, and suddenly, and ache in her yawned open. Was she really going to miss out on half her life for a man who shied away from talking about her after they’d been together for almost three years.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “we could’ve gotten through it, you didn’t have to leave–”

“Well I definitely couldn’t stay,” Y/n cuts him off, tone harsher than she intends, “it was never gonna work out, Andy. We were never getting past that.”

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he re-emphasizes.

“It was more than that,” when she looks up at him again, her eyes are shining and her lips are shaking ever so slightly, “I want something from you that I am never going to get.”

“Why isn't it enough to just be with me?” He asks, long fingers ghosting the side of her face in a touch so heavy it almost isn’t there.

A soft, almost silent scoff breaks her lips and Andrew notes the shine of fresh tears in her eyes. “Would it really be that bad?” Her gaze shifts as she searches his eyes, “Being married to me,” Y/n clarifies in a wounded, hushed tone, “Would it really be that bad?”

Pulling his hand away, Andrew scrubs it over his face, “its not like that,” he promises, “I just don’t get why its important to you.”

Okay, so maybe not anything.

“Why isn’t it important to you?” And just like that, they’re having the same fight they had two years ago, when she said she he couldn’t wait and he’d told her that it didn’t matter if she did. He’s never understood her obsession with marriage, the way Andew sees it, he’s committed to her in every way that matters, getting married will only make things difficult.

Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, Andrew leans back into his chair, “Because I know that I wanna be with you right now, and that’s enough for me. Look,” he suspires heavily, “marriage is tough. Besides people get married all the time and then just get divorced two years later-”

“And some people stay married for fifty years,” Y/n counters defiantly, “so what the fuck is your point?”

“I’m just saying; that might not be us,” he stands and takes a couple steps back to lean against the small round table near the window. When Y/n’s response isn't anything more than an irritated scoff and a glance towards her right, Andrew relents, “maybe I should go.”

“Yeah, you should,” she agrees with haste. She doesn’t look at him as he snatches his pants off the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. The minute shuts the door, though, a hitched sob leaks off her lips and Y/n has to press her hand to her mouth to quiet them. Trying –and failing– to contain her tears, she looks at the picture again and its hard to wrap her head around the fact that the man holding her there, whose arms she’d felt safest in, is the same one seemingly determined to break her heart.

God, she misses him.

Oddly enough, the only comfort she wants at the moment is his. It must be the most visions cycle to be caught in; have him inflict the pain and then seek him out to dress the wounds.

Y/n doesn't know how long she stays there, or how long Andrew lingers in the bathroom, but its long enough for her tears to slow and her legs to start feeling tingly.

At least he's here right now, something in the back of her mind urges. And she doesn't want to leave things the way they are.

Pushing off the floor, Y/n discards the picture on the unmade bed and pads over the bathroom door. “Andy?” Her knuckles hit the cool wood without much force, and after three brief taps, she pressed her cheek to it. “Can I come in?”

She hears the tap turn on and then off again, followed by a brief rustling and then; “yeah.”

He's at the sink, and despite the white hand towel strewn on the counter, his face is still damp and his eyes are red rimmed. His slacks are on the counter too, and it takes a minute before he looks away from his reflection in the wide mirror to regard her. “I thought you might want your shirt back,” she shrugs, fingers fiddling with the top button.

“Yeah, you can just….” He trails off when she starts undoing the buttons, and upon realizing that she isn't wearing anything underneath, he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” she hums, as his shirt slides off her shoulders and billows to the tiled floor. Briefly tipping her chin to meet his gaze, Y/n moves past him, her shoulder brushing his arm.

She slides the door closed, but it doesn't make much of a difference considering it's made of totally transparent glass.

“Fuck,” Andrew drags his lower lip through his teeth. Part of him wants to pick up his clothes and leave; if going back to her after the reception was bad, then this is just down right toxic. But she’s upset, and so is he, and she’s usually the only person he wants to be around when he feels like that.

He thinks there’s a physical pull as he approaches the glass door. Ridding himself of his boxers, he steps into the shower and outstretches his arm to invite her against his chest, and Y/n steps into his embrace. Her arms go around his middle and she presses her cheek to the center of his chest and Andrew smoothens his hand over her wet hair. “I was supposed to be made for you,” Y/n professes softly, “I could’ve sworn it.” Andrew can feel the difference between her tears and the water raining down on them. They’re warmer, they feel like acid on his skin.

Besides, it doesn’t seem right to leave things on a sour note.

What if it really is the last time? It probably won't be, but he doesn't want to leave it to chance.

He doesn't want to leave at all.

He doesn’t know what to say to her; sometimes it feels like she is made for him. The shape of her body is practically molded to fit his, but it's so much more than that. Its the way she laughs at his worst jokes, the way it feels when she runs her fingers through his hair. He’s written songs for her – no other woman has ever been as much of a muse as Y/n has. Its in the small things; like how her laugh is one of his favorite sounds and they like the same kind of wine.

Its in the biggest things; like how he can only stand to have her around when it feels like everything is falling apart around him – or coming together.

Bending his head, Andrew kisses her hair. “I’m sorry,” he utters, realizing, for the first time, that she’s just as caught up in that tangled mess as he is;

they’ll always go back to each other, because there’s nowhere else to go.

I'm being so serious I need to put him in my pocket 🥺😭

These photos cheered me up, maybe they'll do the same to you 💛

Blackout

Hi everyone! Here comes another fic for Hozier! Hope you like it! It isn’t an enemies to lovers, honestly, more like an… annoyed to lovers.

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none, it’s cute! Adorable even. Lots of interrupted kisses. Annoyed to lovers instead of a real enemies to lovers

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

Word Count: 5568

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It wasn’t that you hated him, really. You reckoned that you didn’t know the guy enough to hate him.

It was just that… he simply… got on your nerves.

Why? Well, the fact that your new neighbour was blasting electric guitar and wailing at 2am was a good start. And then there was just… something… something off. You couldn’t explain it. You just saw him and you went nope.

And that was probably mean, and uncalled for, to be fair. He seemed nice enough, during the day, when he was not waking you up at an ungodly hour. He was good-looking too, and he had a nice soothing voice, quiet and surprisingly gentle considering that he was a fucking giant…

Still, you couldn’t forgive him for ruining your nights and never even apologising. Or actually, he did apologise. Every time. And then, he went ahead and did it all over again the next day. The fact that he was a famous musician (that you had obviously recognised, you did not live under a rock, after all) was no excuse to bother your neighbours when they had jobs to go to in the morning.

What a jerk…

Still, you did need some flour to bake these cookies due for your friend tomorrow, now that your little demon of a black cat had dropped the whole thing on the floor… and then decided to roll in it so he could paint your entire kitchen with powder.

What a day…

So, that was the reason why you were now knocking on your neighbour’s door. It was a small building you lived in, with only three flats, and you knew that the couple upstairs were away, gone on vacation somewhere hot and sunny to drink fancy colourful cocktails, the lucky bastards. Meanwhile, you remained in your small town, while it was freezing cold outside, sky as grey as your mood, forced to see this unbearably annoying neighbour of yours…

You knocked a second time, perhaps he had not heard you. You knew he was in, there was light coming out from underneath his door. The shop in your village was closed today. He was your only hope to get these cookies of yours, sadly…

Finally, the door opened. Or well, it was flung open, actually. A grumpy look on handsome features appeared, towering you with his full height, long brown curls messily tied in a bun.

“Hi!” you forced a smile. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, but nodded anyway.

“Need anything else?” he asked, and his voice was softer than the look on his face would have suggested.

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He seemed unsure of what to do with his long limbs for a moment, staring at you before he turned in a jolt, hurried back inside. You noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a hello.

What a je…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour with a smile. It was pretty, even if it was unmistakeably polite more than anything else.

Why on earth were you thinking that, by the way?

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise.”

He merely gave you another smile, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, bye!”

You spun around before he could do anything but mumble a ‘goodbye’, and disappeared in your flat, just across the hall.

Leaning against your front door after closing it, you tried to remember how much of a jerk that man was. How annoying he was. And most of all, you tried not to think of how gorgeous his hazel eyes were…

There was a noise before you, and when you lifted your eyes, Salem was staring at you, paws and fur still partially covered in white flour.

Damn…

It wasn’t that he hated you, really. Andrew reckoned that he didn’t know you enough to hate you.

It was just… simply that you… made him nervous.

There was something about you that just made him struggle to breathe all of a sudden. The fact that the first conversation you had was you not-so-politely telling him to shut up already might have something to do with that. The fact that your cat had been peeing right before his front door on several occasions also played in your disfavour. And perhaps there was also the fact that he found you breathtaking, that he loved the sound of your voice, and that every time he saw you he was torn between an urge to snap at you and another to kiss you to finally make you shut up already. He also sometimes wanted to throw your cat out of the building, but he was too kind-hearted for this to ever fall into the ‘feasible’ category.

The other ones of his urges though…

He shook himself, focused on his guitar again, reached for the cup of tea by his side, sliding the two teabags to the side to take a sip. He needed to focus. He had a song to finish, damn it…

But then again, writing in this small flat he was renting wasn’t ideal. The roof of his home needed to be fixed, he couldn’t stay there for several weeks in a row while people were working on it. And as he was in desperate need for a place to stay while his roof was being repaired, and unwilling to simply stay at a friend’s house for weeks, he wasn’t picky when it came to the choice of flat for this short rental. He would be staying only for a few weeks anyway. He saw the flat on Air BnB, figured it would do, and moved in for six weeks.

The paper-thin walls were a challenge though. And being the night-owl he was, it was tough working only throughout the day.

He took a look at the clock on the wall. 9pm… surely he could make a little bit of noise still. No adult was going to sleep so early these days, lives were too busy for that, workdays too long.

He started recording, trying to get a few back-up vocals in. He could record some guitar quietly later, but he did need some strong vocals to get a feeling of the song. Perhaps it would help him finish this bunch of lyrics he was stuck with.

He had been working for around twenty minutes when he heard someone knocking on his door.

He stopped mid-note, cursing at the interruption. Your interruption, without a doubt…

He needed to work, it was still early, and you were getting on his nerves so fucking much…

He opened his door a little too hard, a dark expression adorning his features. And he was even angrier at you when he found you wearing casual clothes, a warm oversized hoodie and some sweatpants. He was infuriated by your messy hair and the way he wanted to run his fingers through it. He was so frustrated by the white traces of flour splattered across your cheek and sleeves and fingers, and how adorable they made you look. Cosy and comfortable and making him feel lonely like this, on his own, recording alone and singing to no one, making him want to hold you through the night…

“Hi!” you spoke first, but he noticed at once how forced your smile was. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

He was so surprised, he had to raise an eyebrow at that. No complaints about his singing? No… complaints in general? Were you alright?

He wondered why he was so surprised by that, anyway. You seemed to be lovely. He simply had never had the occasion to properly talk to you, that was all…

He nodded.

“Need anything else?” he asked, making his voice softer, knowing he had been a little rough as he had opened the door.

And for God’s sake, he had not even said hello! You would think he was an absolute knob… Was it too late to say hello? Yeah, of course, it was too late, he was pathetic, and there it was again, you were making him so damn nervous, staring at him with these beautiful eyes of yours…

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. For some reason, he was reluctant to walk in again. He didn’t dare question why.

Eventually, though, he did hurry to his kitchen, foraging for his flour. He had barely half a bag left…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour and forced a smile. He hoped you wouldn’t notice that his hands had turned clammy, that he was struggling for breath a little… or a lot, actually. He didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, of his tall frame, he didn’t know what to tell you…

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise,” you told him, smiling too, although yours was more relaxed and he found it a little too bright, it made it dangerous.

He wondered if he should tell you about the white streak on your cheek, but decided against it. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, he was awkward enough for the two of you. God, it had been years since he had been that shy in front of someone.

Before he could find something to say (and he was trying hard to find something interesting to say), you were pressing your lips tightly together.

“Okay, bye!”

It was over already? Andrew was a little stunned by it, he mumbled a ‘goodbye’, brain functioning at full speed to find an excuse to make you stay, but found nothing, reaching to grasp only at air. A second later, you were spinning around, hurrying across the corridor and back to the safety of your door. He watched you disappear, and walked back inside with a sigh.

He sat back in his chair, picked up his guitar again. Damn, he needed to get a grip. He was supposed to hate you, for God’s sake…

“Oh, this got to be a joke…”

Andrew mumbled under his breath, heaving a deep sigh. As if things weren’t complicated enough already in this tiny flat…

The light had just gone out. In this wintery season, even though it was still fairly early, the sky was already wearing its nightly colours, although any traces of moon or stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. Without electricity, the whole room was drenched in darkness…

Andrew checked the battery level of his laptop, resting before him on the small desk where he had been working on a new song. Luckily, none of his music equipment was plugged in, so no damage from a power surge could have happened. He had about 35% battery left…

“Great…”

He saved his files, and used the light of the screen to look for his phone. He checked the battery there too, at the corner of the screen.

12%...

“Fuck…”

He turned the torchlight on anyway, having no other source of light in the room but for his electronical devices. He headed for the cupboard by the door, feet making the wooden floor creak quietly in the dark. He checked the fuses on the hidden electrical panel there, but everything was normal.

It wasn’t coming from his flat. In fact, it wasn’t coming from his building. As he peered into the street, all the streetlights had gone out. It was complete darkness, except for the distant lights of a car, that disappeared after a few seconds.

Andrew heaved another sigh, wondering what to do. It was 6pm, he had not eaten dinner, he had not showered – both vital needs that could not be fulfilled without electricity, unless he wanted to opt for a freezingly cold shower, and he was clearly not in the mood for that – and his phone, aka only source of light, was about to die.

Great… fucking great…

He reckoned that he had a few biscuits tugged somewhere, that would make dinner. He could still quickly wash up with cold water and take a proper shower tomorrow. He only needed a proper torchlight, or at least a candle to see something.

He foraged through the cupboards, drawers and every corner of the flat. No candle, no light, nothing…

His phone was down to 7% battery.

Damn…

There was, however, a solution to his problem. He could go and ask you if you could lend him any source of light…

God, he hated his bloody romantic brain for the line that immediately popped into his head.

She’s a source of light…

“Oh, just shut up, already…” he cursed at himself out loud.

He still opened the door, and walked over to your flat. He only hesitated once he was facing the wooden surface, hand raised in a fist and about to knock. He could feel his throat tightening, and some excited butterflies mingle in his stomach with something anxious and not quite nice. He could feel his palms becoming clammy. He bit down on his cheek.

Did he really want to do that? Knock on your door? See you? You could tell him to fuck off. You could be mean. Or worse, you could give him an earnest smile, what would he do with himself if you did?

But Andrew shook himself and finally knocked. He wasn’t a bloody teenager to be this intimidated by someone. He was an accomplished musician, in his thirties, who owned a home, bees and an awful lot of guitars. He had talked to many people who were way more intimidating than you, including the fucking president! He had sung in front of thousands of people! Tens of thousands! He could totally ask you for a torchlight and be cool about it.

His breath staggered when your face appeared, opening the door and looking up at him with these gorgeous eyes of yours, and his heart skipped several beats, and his brain simply ceased to function altogether…

Bloody hell…

“Oh, hi!” you spoke in an annoyed voice, but he somehow knew the feeling wasn’t aimed at him. “I was about to go over to your place, Andrew. There’s no power in my flat.”

“None in mine either. And nothing in the street. It seems the whole area is in the dark.”

You heaved a frustrated sigh, a long exhale through your nose, and Andrew couldn’t help but find you adorable like this, all frustration and annoyance. He wanted to kiss that frown of yours away…

But he shook himself instead.

She’s annoying as fuck. And you’ve interviewed your fucking president, you can ask your neighbour for a candle…

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, his voice more hesitant than usual, but steady all the same. “But there’s nothing we can do to get the lights back on, and there’s no candle or torchlight in the flat. And my phone is about to die. Do you have anything you could lend me for the night?”

But you shook your head.

“Sorry, got only one candle, and I’m using it. My phone is about to die too.”

“Oh… okay, nevermind then. Thanks anyway.”

“Oh wait! Your flour!”

You rushed inside, reappeared seconds later with the bag you had borrowed that morning.

“Thanks,” Andrew gave you a smile, one that he tried to make brighter than the ones he usually offered you. “Hope the cooking went well.”

“Yep! I now have lots of cookies! Luckily, they were finished before the power went out. The oven runs on electricity.”

“Yeah, mine too. Everything in the flat does, actually,” he answered with a wince.

“You’ve got some food for tonight?”

“Some snacks, yeah. It will simply not be a night for my infamous pastas.”

Andrew didn’t know how to react when you actually chuckled at his joke, a genuine smile now adorning your lips. It was all butterflies and leaping heart and air leaving his lungs.

Fuck… this was so much more intimidating than talking to the president…

“I’ve got some stuff ready, if you want. Nothing fancy, just a salad.”

You opened your door wider, a silent invitation, one he was too surprised by to seize right away, too busy raising an eyebrow.

“Oh… erhmmm… thanks… you don’t have to bother, though…”

“I’m not! I prepare most of my meals in advance, during the weekend. I have enough for you, if you want.”

“Erhmmm… it won’t bother you?”

“No, I…”

But you were interrupted by sudden darkness as Andrew’s phone decided to give up on life…

“Fuck! Bloody hell…” he cursed under his breath, tapping on the screen, but to no avail.

“Wait, the candle…”

You walked back into your flat, a dim light coming from the other end of the hall. He could only guess your form in the dark, but he noticed that you were stumbling as you cursed.

“Bloody… Salem! No! Andrew, close the door! The cat!”

Andrew didn’t think. He didn’t fully realize what he was doing as he stepped inside your flat and closed the door in a hurry. A soft brush against his ankle told him that your cat had not managed to escape.

“Did he run off?” you asked, reappearing with the candle in your hand, your features bathed in the warm light; something so ethereal, Andrew thought he was dreaming all of this.

But then he felt claws digging into his jeans in an attempt to climb up his leg, and he was reminded that he was not dreaming, indeed.

“No, he’s decided to use me as his personal tree instead,” he joked, bending to gently push the animal away, who mewed in discontent.

You laughed at that, sound clear and blinding, making him a little dizzy.

“For his defence, that’s an easy mistake to make.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Very funny…”

Still, he couldn’t refrain an amused smile, and yours brightened too.

“So, now that you’re in… want some of my brilliant chicken salad?”

You had no idea what had gone through your brain when you invited Andrew to come in and share a meal with you.

You were supposed to hate the guy. He was supposed to be the annoying musician next door who kept on yelling into some microphone when you tried to sleep.

It was difficult to remind yourself of that though, when the annoying musician turned out to be so soft-spoken and sweet. Sweet. Yeah, that was the most fitting word to describe how your evening was going with him so far. He seemed nervous as well, an unexpected reaction to your modest flat and perfectly ordinary self. The guy had sung in front of audiences of thousands and probably met an awful lot of people who were everything but ordinary… and yet he was shifting his weight now from one foot to the other, as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs. You found that adorable…

The fact that he looked stunning in the warm light of the candle, with his hazel eyes looking almost black in the dimly lit room, his hair held in a messy bun, the photons caught in his beard and long eyelashes… yeah, that was not helping at all, either.

You cleared your throat while handing him a glass of water, which he quietly thanked you for. There was nothing special about your meal, but he complimented you anyway. He stole a couple extra cookies for dessert, and you smiled at the sight.

“Sweet tooth?” you asked, nodding towards the crumbs in his plate, the last remnants of the fourth cookie he had been devouring.

He looked sheepishly at you.

“Kind of… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise! I’m glad you like them.”

“Well, you did make them with my flour, so I guess I’ve partly paid for them,” he joked, successfully making you laugh.

He was funny, which didn’t help you reminding yourself that you ought to despise him either.

If you had both struggled a little to start a proper conversation at the beginning, you were more relaxed now, and Andrew seemed to be feeling the same. You had barely talked to each other before, your interactions limited to polite chit-chat typical of neighbourhood, and you being annoyed at him, and him being annoyed at you.

It turned out that he was nice, that he was kind, that he was funny and smart and that he had an awful lot of anecdotes to tell. Time flew by, the night deepening faster than expected, and you remained sitting around your dinner table even after your plates were empty, talking about your lives and discovering that you had quite a lot in common, after all.

Alright, he wasn’t as insufferable as you had first thought, and for sure your heart leapt every time he smiled, and you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous…

… still, you were supposed to hate him.

He helped you wash the dishes, joking and making you laugh, and hell, it was hard to stop your heart from beating too fast.

Out of annoyance, of course! You were annoyed… that was why your stomach made some crazy flip-flops when he bent closer to you to secure a plate in the cupboard above your head. It wasn’t at all because his shoulder was touching yours, because he stood so close you could smell his earthy perfume and it made you dizzy…

Nope! None of that… of course…

And when he looked down at you, remaining just as close, and you caught him staring, caught the bopping of his Adam’s apple and the tensing of the muscle in his jaw, the sudden urge you felt to reach up for his collar and pull him down until you could kiss his lips was a reflection of your frustration against him, nothing more.

Nothing more…

His eyes left yours, blinked a couple of times and landed on your lips, and you were certain that the sound of his breathing had disappeared. And you both remained there, standing still, staring at the other and you wondered if he was thinking the same thought as you did, having the same surprising longing to close the space between your bodies. You weren’t sure why you had invited him when you thought you disliked him. But then did you really dislike him? Or did you simply smell danger in his bright smile, saw risks in his pretty eyes, and the fear of falling in his deep voice? Yeah… yeah, perhaps there was a little bit of that, too… You tilted your head up, and he lowered his head, just a little bit, the ghost of a movement, you could almost have dreamt it…

But then he moved away, in a jolt, blinking and clearing his throat as if catching himself doing something mad and wrong and stopping before he actually performed the sin. You disliked him once again, then, hating that he elicited disappointment…

You finished washing the dishes in silence, and you hated the feeling of discomfort that suddenly replaced the warmth he had brought before. He was back at shuffling around, clearly uncomfortable. And yet, when he looked at you again and caught your gaze with his, his expression softened.

“Can I confess something?” he asked out of the blue, but you nodded in encouragement despite your surprise.

He sounded serious all of a sudden, and he took a moment to look for the right words. His eyes seemed to search for something in yours, and you couldn’t look away while he looked so intensely at you.

“I… I’m sorry we kind of… hit it off in a bad way. Cause I… you’re not as bad as I thought you were,” he added with a tinge of humour and lopsided smile, which made you smile too.

“Yeah… you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were either,” you admitted despite yourself. And yet, as soon as the confession passed your lips, you couldn’t deny that you truly meant it.

He grinned, the sight making your heart skip a few beats.

“Is there a way that I can repay you for your amazing chicken salad?” he asked, his tone more playful again, eliciting warmth across your frame.

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“I mean, it was an amazing salad,” you leaned into his joking tone.

“Spectacular. It deserves some kind of retribution, somehow…”

“Well, you’re a musician aren’t you? I’m sure you can find something.”

He laughed at that, clearly taken aback by your answer, but if he blushed and rubbed his neck in a mark of sudden shyness, he didn’t back down.

“You’re aiming straight for the serious topics,” he teased.

“For the free concert tickets, if we’re being fully honest…” you joked, making both of you laugh.

“Oh, I see! That’s where the sudden kindness comes from! You want to exchange a chicken salad for a show!”

“Absolutely! Do you have any idea how much time and energy I’ve put in that salad?!”

“A tremendous amount, no doubt! Well… sorry to disappoint, but I’m not on tour at the moment.”

“Good, cause I was aiming for that other artist you might know.”

He broke into a loud laughter, one that filled your apartment and your frame alike with joy.

“What a well-thought plan! I’m afraid you might make me more important than I truly am, though.”

“If I give you an extra-cookie, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get me the show I want.”

“And here you go, using my weaknesses already, you clever lass!”

“A genius, that’s what I am!”

You laughed again, before you would grow more serious again.

“Seriously though, don’t mention it. It was nice to have dinner with you.”

His smile grew more tender, his gaze softened.

“Yeah… it was nice for me too. And perhaps you… perhaps we could do that again? Next time I could be doing the cooking.”

“And with actual lights on, that could be good too,” you joked, making him chuckle as he nodded.

“And well… I’ll have my guitar with me, perhaps I can repay you with some music then.”

“Wow… are you offering a free concert, or a form of serenading?”

You were joking, but you noticed the way his cheeks reddened, and he averted his eyes for a few seconds, before capturing your stare with his once more.

“Rather the second option, I reckon.”

You tried very hard to hide your reaction: the way your heart skipped a few beats and then became absolutely erratic, so much so that you wondered if it could beat hard enough to break your ribs and escape your chest altogether; the butterflies that flew across your stomach; the breath that got caught in your throat…

Damn, you hadn’t felt like that in years…

He averted his eyes once more to speak again.

“Ermmm… unless you wouldn’t like that, of course.”

“I… Actually, I think I would like that. Quite a lot.”

He looked at you then, his smile turning into a grin. And he blinked, eyes falling to your lips a second time this evening…

You reached for your kitchen counter, hesitating in taking the first step and leaning into your urge to pull him down to kiss him. How crazy was that thought? That you could be kissing Hozier, of all people; that you wanted to kiss the neighbour you had categorized as annoying for weeks; that you felt exhilarated like a teenager at the mere thought of touching his cheek…

He seemed to be hesitating too, and you heard him take a sharp intake of breath, blink again, and then he slowly leant down…

… and then it was complete darkness in the room, as the candle died out.

You jumped in surprise, taking a step back involuntarily and letting out a squeal as you felt your heel brushing your cat’s tail. Salem hissed, although you stopped your step before you could hurt him. You started to lose your balance though, when a pair of hands reached blindly in the dark for you, grabbing both of your upper arms and pulling you forward. You collided with something warm, hard and steady, and the earthy scent that enveloped your senses and made your head spin told you that you were pressed against Andrew’s chest.

“You’re alright?” he asked, worry audible in his tone.

“Yeah, just… almost stepped on my cat.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I almost stepped on him.”

He let out a low hum, almost a rumble, the vibrations echoing through your cheek and you had to close your eyes at the reassuring feeling. You reached up to hold him without thinking; there was something so safe and soft about his embrace…

His left hand moved from your arm to your back, a soothing caress as he pressed you closer. Meanwhile, his other hand was slowly moving up your arm, torturingly slow, making its way from your arm to your shoulder, and then it was time for a brush of long fingers across your neck that made your whole body tremble, and he kept on going until you moved your face so he could cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing delicate circles into your cheekbone. You didn’t dare to move, afraid he would leave your arms, afraid you wouldn’t feel the warmth of his body sipping into your clothes anymore. But then, you felt his warm breath fan over your forehead, near your hairline, and you looked up to see nothing but shadows, your hair brushed against the tip of his nose.

But then you were blinded, as the power was back on, the lights now turned on again.

You both jolted backwards, blinking hard against the outburst of light, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

And just like that he was gone, and you could have cried from the cold that replaced his body in your arms.

It took both of you a moment to regain your composure, to realize what was happening, where you were, what had almost happened.

Almost…

When you caught his gaze again, you couldn’t make out what his hazel eyes were saying, pupils still dilated after spending so long in a dimly lit room and then in complete darkness.

You struggled to swallow, unsure what to do next. Were you supposed to act like you had not been close to kissing a second ago? Were you supposed to joke around again? Were you supposed to talk about it? Were you supposed to ask him on a date?

You read the same hesitations in Andrew’s eyes, although something soon shifted in his gaze. Something determined appeared, and a little scared, but lovely all the same. And before you could react, he had taken a step forward to close back the space between your bodies, had reached up to hold your face in both his hands, and was crushing his lips to yours.

Your brain ceased to function altogether, you were too stunned to realize fully what was happening. But then your braincells caught on, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to bring his even closer as you kissed him, sighing in his mouth as he parted his lips to taste you.

For how long did you remain like this, standing in your kitchen, untangled and kissing? Hard to tell, impossible even. But when you broke apart, both of you out of breath, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, and he held you close, as if he were afraid you could leave.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice full of shock.

He chuckled at your reaction.

“You know, when a man and a woman really like each other, sometimes…”

“Don’t,” you warned him, but couldn’t refrain a smile all the same.

“Sorry, bad timing.”

You looked up at him, and by the look he gave you, you guessed that you weren’t very good at hiding your sudden nervousness.

“I’m not the ‘one-night stand’ type,” you warned him.

Andrew slowly nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay.”

“Besides, I’m supposed to hate you so…”

“Hate me?”

“You’re supposed to be the hot but very annoying neighbour who I blame for all of my life’s problems.”

He laughed at that, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You think I’m hot?”

It was your time to laugh.

“You’re not too bad,” you answered, but the look you gave him made him blush.

“Well, you’re not too bad either. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I’m sure you can do better than that.”

A spark of mischief appeared in his eyes.

“If you want, I can get going with the serenading.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, but playing along all the same.

“Tempting. I won’t give myself away for less than that.”

“Dully noted. I’ll make efforts to woo you properly, I promise.”

You shied away a little, but he held you a little more tightly against him.

“What about a proper date though?” he asked, all traces of humour now gone from his voice. “Tomorrow night?”

You smiled up at him, nodding your head, before burying your face in his shoulder again, and he held you tightly against him in response.

Yeah, he truly was insufferable, without a doubt…

Only an Almost (III)

Chapter 3: By the Rules

Hello!! Here comes a new chapter! The Friends with Benefits is appearing in this one…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 2436

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

Andrew had fucked up.

He hadn’t slept at all, how could he? That look on your face was printed on his irises, he could see nothing but that image whenever he closed his eyes. He had fucked up, he had lost you forever because he had gotten drunk and had leaned into some delusional thought for a moment…

What a fool. What a fucking idiot…

He hadn’t cried though. For now, his body was holding up on a mixture of anxiety, guilt, regret and hope. Perhaps you could forgive him. If he apologized properly, you would surely forgive him. He could lie about all this, pretend that he hadn’t meant it, that he was simply drunk and particularly lonely these days – both statements that were true – and that he had acted without thinking – also true. Yes, it would barely be a lie, after all! The only element that would be untrue was to pretend that he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t see you that way. That would be a blatant lie. Would you be able to read through him?

And anyway, should he lie to you like this? What had transpired last night… Andrew wasn’t sure that he could keep on living with such a secret weighing on his heart for much longer. Could he look at you without thinking about this stolen moment? About the feeling of your lips against his? About how you tasted?

He heaved a sigh, and reached for his phone anyway. Something had to be done, it didn’t matter what. Whether he would decide to be honest or to keep on hiding his feelings for you, a discussion needed to be had.

He typed his text, took a deep breath, and pressed ‘send’.

Morning Y/N

We should talk about last night, what about we meet up and get some coffee?

Xx

He silently cursed himself for the xx, but then again, he always put these or little hearts for you. The idiot of a romantic that he was. How cheesy…

His deprecating thoughts were interrupted by his phone buzzing in his hand. Your name appeared on the screen.

Yeah, I reckon we should…

5pm today? At the usual café?

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh as he typed a reply. At least, you were still willing to talk to him, it ought to be a good sign…

… right?

The coffeeshop wasn’t busy. After all, it was Thursday afternoon, and despite the warm and cozy feeling brought by the flowers on the tables, the books on the shelves and the quiet lights of the lamps, people were too busy with their work and their lives. Andrew couldn’t help but be grateful as he looked around at all the empty seats and lonely tables around him. There were but five more people in the establishment, which meant that if things didn’t go well, he wouldn’t be humiliated in front of an entire crowd.

He tried to be more hopeful. He had taken a decision: he wouldn’t pretend that what had happened was a mere fluke, that it didn’t mean anything. He would confess that he didn’t see you as a friend. And if you didn’t feel the same, then it was alright, of course. If you wanted to stop seeing him altogether, he would understand completely. And if you wanted the two of you to remain friends, then he was ready to make it work, somehow. For now, at least… Andrew wasn’t certain that he could keep on seeing you as a mere friend for long, it was becoming too painful for him. But on the other hand, he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. He would need time to adapt, either way.

He was fidgeting as he stared at the empty chair before him. He was aware of his terrible habit to be late at everything, but today was not the day to arrive after you. So, he had arrived early on purpose, just to be safe.

His leg was shaking with nerves, and he was roughly massaging his palm.

Would you even come? Perhaps you would chicken out? Perhaps you didn’t want to see him, after all, perhaps you had changed your mind? Perhaps…?

His thoughts fell silent as you entered the shop. They were replaced by butterflies and a sudden jump of his heart…

You greeted him with a shy smile, before taking the seat he was offering you.

“How are you? How was your day? You want a coffee? Or tea?”

“Tea, thanks, Andy.”

You were taking off your coat and getting settled while Andrew was gone to order you a drink. When he came back, you seemed just as nervous as he was, you were fidgeting with the sleeve of your jumper.

“There you go,” Andrew whispered as he handed you your cup of tea, voice gentle and warm.

“Thanks.”

“So, how was your day?”

“Good, grand,” you nodded as Andrew was sitting back down.

You exchanged some niceties for a few minutes, but Andrew wasn’t fooled. Your answers were short and you seemed just as anxious as he was. He opted for silence after a few minutes, letting you stir the conversation towards the main topic that you had to discuss.

“Andy, about last night…”

You bit down on your lower lip, eyes fleeing his gaze. His heart was racing, beating so fast it could have exploded.

He cleared his throat, starting to rub at his palms again.

“Yeah… last night, huh…”

“You… you kissed me.”

It was his turn to avert his eyes while you looked up at him. He nodded his head.

“Yeah… I did.”

“Why?”

He let out a dry chuckle. His gaze settled on a couple a few tables away, a large coffee before both of them. They were smiling, he was reaching for her hand. Andrew refrained his sudden urge to scream at them.

“Isn’t that obvious? Why do people kiss other people?” he asked back.

“You were drunk.”

“Not that drunk. And you didn’t push me away.”

“I was drunk.”

“Were you that drunk?”

“Andy, look at me.”

He bit hard on the inside of his cheek as he complied. He couldn’t refuse you anything, anyway…

His right hand rose to painfully rub at his collarbone, the skin quickly turning a bright shade of red.

“Why did you kiss me last night?”

He blinked a couple of times, noticed the way you swallowed too hard.

“Because I wanted to.”

Your lips parted a little.

“Because you… you’re attracted to me?” you asked, and Andrew could have laughed at your puzzled expression, you almost looked scared now.

Scared? Why would you be scared of him? He would do anything for you. God, Andrew could die for you if you asked…

And what was that question, even? Attracted to you? The understatement of the century…

“You can say that, yeah.”

You slowly nodded. He took the opportunity of a moment of silence to drink a long gulp of his coffee, and then another, the bitterness biting at his tongue in a way that made him think about something else than your eyes and the way your lips looked as you bit them again, how much he wanted to kiss your mouth…

“So… you want to have sex with me.”

Andrew choked, grabbing a napkin before he would spill anything, coughing as he put down the cup back on the wooden table.

“Sorry… that was a bit blunt,” you said, but he knew you weren’t sorry at all.

You let him cough, try to catch back his breathing.

“Way too blunt, as always,” he half-joked.

“Andy, I…”

You heaved a sigh, rubbing at your temples like you were focused on a math problem at school. Was that what his kiss was? A problem to be solved?

“Look, I… Andy, you know I care about you. A lot. You’re… you’re one of my closest friends.”

He nodded.

“But?”

“But I can’t handle a relationship right now. Whether it’s with you, or anyone else, I just… I’m trying to figure myself out, I have this new job, I… I can’t handle dating someone, right now.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he offered you a reassuring smile, and Andrew silently congratulated himself for hiding his disappointment so well. Or his heart breaking, to be fair…

“I can’t handle that…”

“I understand. It’s not the right time for you, I get it. It’s alright. It won’t happen again, you don’t have to worry.”

“But you… you’re attracted to me, right?”

He frowned, wondering why you were asking again.

“Like… if I told you that I wanted to sleep with you, you wouldn’t be against that, right? That’s why you kissed me last night?”

His heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. What was he supposed to answer to that? Pretend like he had never dreamt of making love to you all night? Lie and say that he didn’t mean it, that it was a mistake? Damn, that was the best kiss he had ever had…

“What am I supposed to answer that? You’ve just stated that you don’t want anything romantic to happen in your life at the moment. I’m not stupid, it’s alright. I understand, it won’t happen again.”

You heaved a sigh, your stare intense and yet he could see that you were looking for an answer in his soul, like you were scared as you spoke again.

“What if I want to have sex with you?”

His eyebrows shot upwards. He struggled to swallow, struggled to breathe as he shifted in his seat to lean forward, closer to you. He readjusted his glasses on his nose, and he noticed the way you stared, as if you liked what you saw.

“Do you? Want me like that?”

Damn, he was certain he was about to faint, how could a human hold their breath for so long? And this knot in his stomach, he was going to be sick at this rate…

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

He could hardly believe it. And yet he had witnessed the movement of your lips around those words, there was no doubt left to have. He nervously licked his lips, went back to rubbing at his collarbone as if he wanted to tore the flesh from it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or to laugh or simply to finally have a full intake of breath.

“I don’t follow,” he admitted, although it was more that his brain couldn’t possibly compute what you were stating.

“I want you. Physically, I mean. I want you.”

“But you don’t want a relationship.”

“No, I don’t. But you’re handsome, and I’m attracted to you too.”

And that’s when the realisation struck, and it acted like a cold shower, like the icy water hitting his skin when he dove in the ocean in winter. Same shock that took all the air out of his lungs. To be fair, he had not noticed before that he had any oxygen left in these organs of his. It was like… getting a punch in the guts.

“So… you want… just sex? Nothing more.”

It wasn’t really a question, something closer to a statement. He had hoped, for a second, that you felt the same. But you just wanted sex. And he wanted so, so much more…

“Yeah. I mean… like a… friends with benefits situation, you know? Like… we would still be the same, but… with the sex too.”

“But it wouldn’t mean a thing,” he protested, but you didn’t seem to read that feeling in his voice, considering your answer.

“No, it wouldn’t mean anything. Just… two pals who find each other attractive releasing some tension.”

Releasing some tension? Yoga was for releasing tension, not sleeping with the woman he was secretly desperately in love with?!

“What do you say? Would you like that?”

You were serious. He couldn’t believe you were serious… Couldn’t you see that Andrew was in love with you? Couldn’t you… couldn’t you feel it last night? In the way he held you, in the way he touched you, in the way he kissed you?

This was a bad idea. A terrible, terrible idea that would surely backfire and kill him in the end…

“I… I don’t know, to be honest. I’m not sure I want that.”

Slowly, you nodded, leaning further away from him, back against your chair, and he wanted to reach out to pull you closer again, even if you were still separated by the table.

“Okay. I’m sorry I asked that. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright. You only asked a question.”

“So… we forget about the kiss then?”

That was the only option, of course. The only reasonable way out of this mess.

Damn it.

“Actually… why not?”

It was your turn to raise a surprised eyebrow. Andrew struggled not to smile when you leaned closer again.

“Really?”

“But then… we need some rules. Cause… that could become… complicated…”

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“What?”

You nodded towards his shoulder, and he finally noticed that he had been rubbing at the skin too hard.

“Andy, relax, it’s just me. Stop it, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, resting his hands on the table only to start rubbing at his palms. He didn’t even know why he was apologizing.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me like that. We can remain friends.”

“I… I do want you, Y/N. That’s not the problem.”

“The problem?”

I’m not sure I’ll survive if I have you for a moment, and then you leave.

“Friends with benefits… that’s usually messy.”

“Not if we establish rules.”

“What rules?”

“Well, first, no kissing outside of the bedroom. Only for sex. Second, we don’t fall asleep together. Third rule, no one can know about this. And just… If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this. It’s just… it’s just sex, nothing more.”

Slowly, he nodded. It was a terrible idea. And yet, what else could he be to you? After that kiss last night, Andrew didn’t believe he could remain a mere friend to you for long. And if you couldn’t be in a relationship now, then this was the next best thing he could get. He could still have you, in a way. He could still be yours. And maybe one day, you would want more…

You offered him your open hand. Like signing a contract. Agreeing to a business offer.

“What do you say?”

Andrew raised his hand to meet yours.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Only an Almost (IV)

Chapter 4: First Time

Hello!! Here is a new chapter! This is one includes sexual themes, even if no explicit descriptions, so no minors here, please!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 2435

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

Andrew and you didn’t see each other for a few days. You were both busy with work, and an impending fear seemed to hang above the two of you. You were both happy to pretend that you didn’t have time to see each other, it was easier to tiptoe around the line of friendship rather than to cross it for good.

But then Saturday arrived, and with it Andrew’s promise to help you move furniture around your house. You were buying a new bookshelf, and needed to move a couple of things to accommodate the larger shelves.

It was raining, for a change. When Andrew knocked on your door, his hair was curlier than ever, and on its way to get properly drenched. Luckily, you hurried to let him inside the warmth of your house.

“Alright, muscles! Let’s get you dry and warm, and then you can show all that manly strength of yours!” you joked, making Andrew laugh before you had even closed the door behind him.

“Yes, ma’am. I am but your humble servant today.”

It was your turn to laugh. You walked to your kitchen to start a kettle, while Andrew was ridding himself of his wet shoes and coat.

“So, how many muscles will be pulled today?” he asked, walking into your living room to assess the work to be done for the afternoon.

You appeared soon after, carrying two cups of tea; you handed him the one containing two teabags.

“We need to move the sofa, the coffee table, and all the furniture set against this wall,” you explained. “Once that is done, we need to pick up my bookshelf at the shop, and bring it home. We can set up everything now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Last time we’ve tried to build a piece of furniture together was at Jon’s, and it took us three hours… I expect to be free at nightfall,” Andrew pointed out, but you shook your head.

“No, don’t worry about that. I can assemble the bookshelf on my own.”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You don’t want any help?”

“I can do it.”

“I know you can… I’m asking if you want help.”

“I don’t want to bother you…”

But he merely let out a laugh.

“When did you decide to stop being insufferable?” he joked, making you roll your eyes. “Y/N… I’m here to help, so let me help.”

You grew a little shy, and Andrew tried to ignore the way it made his heart inflate, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!”

He drank a little bit of tea, before rolling up his sleeves.

“Alright, tell me where we’re putting all these.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”

“Pivot! Pivot!”

“I can’t believe you’ve made that joke… Andy!”

“Put it down. Y/N, just put it down, we’ll pick it up again.”

You heaved a relieved sigh as you put down the large cardboard box in your hallway. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart.

You caught Andrew rubbing his back as you turned to him.

“Okay, next time I need help with something like this, I’ll ask someone my height. Are you okay, Andy?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. You should close your door, and then we’ll lift this up again and get it safely to your living room.”

You managed to get the box in the right room on your second attempt, even if your arms and hands were sore by now.

Building the bookshelf was quicker than expected, thanks to Andrew’s help. He heaved a content sigh once you were finally done.

“Not too bad!” you nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

He leaned back on his hands, admiring your work. You were both sitting on the ground, in the mess of cardboard and spared screws that came with building furniture.

“So… that means…”

“I can buy so many more books…”

He let out a bright laugh, shaking his head at you with a fondness that made you look away.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! How many books did you buy last time we went to the bookstore together?” you asked back, making him roll his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll have you know my purchases were perfectly legitimate.”

“The first two, maybe. Not the six that came next…”

Andrew laughed again, he couldn’t help it. And it made you break your act, the most beautiful sound in the world…

“Alright, alright. I might have a bit of an addiction.”

“Want some tea before you go?”

“You don’t want help organizing your brand-new shelves?”

“I reckon I’ve bothered you enough for one day.”

“God, stop saying that,” he mumbled, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “You’re never bothering me, Y/N.”

You gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart melt, that illuminated his entire world…

… Christ, he was such a desperate case.

“Even when I steal all your chips?”

It made him laugh again, of course, even if it was silly. Perhaps because it was silly. You were adorable like this, sitting on the ground with pieces of cardboard all around, your hair a mess and wearing your most comfortable clothes. Domestic. That’s how the scene looked. It could have been a moment held in a shared home…

He wanted to make a snarky remark, but his heart was too soft, too warm, a little too painful as well.

“Even when you steal my chips.”

Your smile grew more mischievous, and Andrew’s gaze lingered on your lips.

“Now that you’ve admitted that, you’ll never get the chance to eat chips ever again.”

You both chuckled at that, and Andrew leaned closer to you without noticing, sitting straighter again. He didn’t pay attention to the way you leaned closer as well.

“Alright, that is too much. I like you enough to concede… 1% of my chips. Not one more.”

“One?! And you say you like me?” you huffed. “I deserve at least 25% of your chips.”

“You’re never getting one-fourth of my chips. Have I never mentioned that chips are my passion in life? You’ll get 5%.”

“20%.”

“I won’t go above 7%.”

“Come on, 10%...”

You leaned even closer, so close your shoulder was brushing his arm. So close, he could feel the warmth of your breath on his chin as he bent down a little.

He struggled to swallow. The thought crossed his mind that you were barely a breath away, that all he had to do to kiss you was to slightly tilt his head and lean down some more…

When did the temperature of the room rise so much?

When did the playful atmosphere turn into this longing?

“Alright, 10%.”

“Deal.”

You offered him your hand, and he looked down at your open palm. He shook your hand, his so much larger than yours. When he looked up, you were blinking, lips slightly parted. He didn’t have the strength to pull away, decided to let you break your hold on him. But you didn’t. Instead, your gaze dropped to his lips, and you tightened you tightened your hold on his hand. Andrew’s heart skipped several beats, he glanced at your mouth as well. When your gazes met once more, you let go of him, and Andrew blushed furiously, ready to pull away, to pretend that nothing had happened.

But then your fingers were lifted to his cheek, your thumb softly stroking his beard. He blinked at you, holding his breath.

When you leaned up, he could barely believe it.

“Andy?” you whispered, your lips almost touching his.

“Yes?” he struggled to swallow, voice low and deepened by want.

“Are you still okay with… what we discussed the other day? About… our arrangement?”

Andrew tried to speak, but he merely nodded instead.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

But instead of answering, Andrew merely closed the gap between your mouths.

It was as wonderful as he remembered, just as overwhelming, as perfect… a feeling he never wanted to end. A sensation he knew he would never stop seeking if he lost you…

The kiss, this time, quickly got heated though. Andrew’s lips had soon found the sweet spot over your pulse, and he busied himself gently biting on the skin of your neck, before kissing it to sooth the tickling flesh. You were breathless in his arms, hands lost in his hair, gently pulling now and then.

When you started to unbutton his shirt, shivers ran through his entire frame.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” he asked, voice raw and deeper than you had ever heard, deep enough to make your soul tremble, lust audible in his tone.

His pupils were as dilated as yours when you looked at each other.

You quickly nodded, staggering to your feet.

You offered him a hand, one he knew he couldn’t refuse.

“Just sex, though. We still agree on this?” you asked.

Andrew’s chest tightened, and yet as he looked up at you, your lips reddened with kisses, a mark left by his mouth over the curve of your neck, a lustful look in your eyes… he could never have said no. He would have accepted anything to have you, no matter the consequences for him.

“Yes. Yes, we agree.”

You helped him up, keeping your hand in his as you guided him to your bed.

You were still holding his hand.

There was no sound in the room but your two breaths, heaving across silence, scattering over empty space and furniture and the perspiration across your brow.

Andrew couldn’t look at you yet. His mind was just coming down from its height, from reaching for the heavens and gently landing back into your bed, across the soft cotton sheets that smelled of lilac and you. His thoughts were still a little foggy, a little distant even, hanging above him just out of reach. The dizziness that came with utter pleasure and release was dissipating, leaving some room for the return of realisation and consciousness.

He had sex with you. Andrew had just had sex with you. You had slept with him. And God, what love-making that was…

Your hand tightened slightly around his, and he finally gathered his courage to turn his head on the pillow, blinking and then looking at you.

You were dishevelled, struggling for breath still, your eyes closed. Your bare chest was heaving; he couldn’t help but let his gaze trace your shape, the lines of your skin, the perfect curves of your body, for now still uncovered by the sheets. You looked messy and perfectly content. Glowing in some way only pleasure could bring.

He wished for this to be the only sight he would ever see from now on.

“Wow… that was amazing, Andy…”

His lips curved into a cocky grin.

“So… not as disappointing as expected?”

You chuckled at that, finally turning your head to look at him.

“Barely.”

You exchanged a tender smile, while he raised his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered to cup your cheek, touch gentle, loving even.

“It was amazing for me too, by the way,” he whispered, moving closer, his tone as quiet as a confession.

You leaned closer to kiss him, and you tasted like heaven, something sweet and impossibly you, a taste he would never forget and always crave for…

“Hold me… please,” you asked in a whisper, and he didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him. You rested your ear right against his heart, listening to the steady beat of the organ.

You nuzzled into his chest, one of your hands still holding his, the other resting across his stomach where you drew mindless patterns that lulled him into a peaceful state, one he had not reached in years. He bent his head to kiss your hair.

This could work, he thought. None of what had just happened felt like a mere fling, like some meaningless sex. There had been a connection the second your lips met. It wasn’t fucking, it was making love. And now, you were craving for his embrace as much as he was longing for yours. This could work. For now, your life was complicated and stressful. It was okay, Andrew would wait for you to be available again, for you to be ready to give him a proper chance. It would be alright, all he had to do was to be patient. You couldn’t properly date him at the moment, but nothing that had occurred in this bedroom was mere physical attraction. It was more than just sex. You pretending that it was nothing more than a friends with benefits situation… it was temporary. Andrew was not fooled. You were still holding his hand. It would be fine, it was more than just sex… so much more…

He pressed his lips to your hairline.

“God, you’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered, and he felt your smile against his skin.

His hold on your waist tightened slightly, before he would move his hand across your back, long fingers splayed across the base of your spine. Feeling your bare skin against his was driving him absolutely insane…

“Let’s take ten minutes like this, and then I’ll clean the mess we’ve made in the living room.”

“An hour.”

You chuckled, pinching playfully his side.

“Quit having such a terrible influence on me, would you? I’ll give us fifteen…”

“Why the rush?” he argued, his eyes closing while his lips were still resting against your skin and he breathed in the blooming scent of your shampoo. “This is nice… let’s enjoy the moment, okay?”

You didn’t say anything, remained quiet, went back to tracing patterns against his skin.

It lasted a few blissful minutes, before you were sitting up.

You let go of his hand.

“I’m gonna go clean up everything in the living room, and reorder my bookshelves. Do you want some tea?”

You weren’t looking at him, as if you were avoiding his stare. Andrew wondered why.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

You hurried back into your clothes, and Andrew grew self-conscious, now that he was the only one still naked. He reached for his underwear as well, then his undershirt.

“You’re alright, baby?”

You finally turned to him.

“Let’s make a new rule. No pet names. Okay?”

He blinked up at you from the bed, taken aback, too much so to stop you from leaving the room.

Only An Almost (V)

Chapter 5: Doubting

Hello!! Here comes a new chapter! There are mentions of sex in this chapter, so a little reminder that this series is not meant to be read by minors. Thank you!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 2435

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

Three weeks passed. You had spent twelve nights together.

Now, Andrew knew every detail of your face as you reached orgasm, the beauty spot on your back he loved kissing, the perfect place across your neck to kiss and nip that made you squirm in his arms, the way the most intimate parts of you tasted, how your legs shook when his fingers touched that spot, how you smelled when he held you close after you were both content and happily floating above the room. He knew you liked to hold his hand right after sex, that you loved when he stroked your back or your cheek to help you ease down into the mortal world, that you took your showers way too hot, that you didn’t like when his beard brushed that part of your ribs because it tickled too much. He had mapped every inch of your body with his eyes, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. He knew how to pleasure you precisely by now, how to read through your breathing what you needed him to do to feel as good as possible, how to worship your body the way you deserved.

And judging by your gestures, you had spotted too that he adored when you kissed his collarbone and his chest. That he had a weak spot at the base of his neck, that he was ticklish right behind his knee, that he melted whenever you dragged your fingertips across his spine, and you tugged on his hair the perfect way nor too harsh nor too soft but the ideal strength that turned him on to no end. You had touched and kissed all of him too by now.

Despite this new intimacy, despite the tenderness with which you held him in your arms as he struggled to find back his breathing, the way you whispered his name in pleasure as if in a prayer, the way you showered him in gentle touches and kisses… you still acted the same as always outside the bedroom.

You talked the same, stood next to him at a perfectly respectable distance, asked him about his day and his mom and his bees the way you had always done, as if… as if there was nothing abnormal. As if he had not heard you shout his name in pleasure the night before. As if you could truly spend nights making love to him and act like nothing had changed, when… everything had changed.

Perhaps he just needed to be patient. You would come around. You would love him, eventually. Besides, he was probably not even the problem at all! You had told him that you didn’t want a relationship, with anyone. The fact that you were still sleeping with him showed that you liked him enough to blur that boundary, despite your decision. Yeah, it was an encouraging sign. If he just… if he just waited, and if he made efforts to make you happy and…

“Andy? You’re alright?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re okay?”

He blinked back at you. You had put on an old t-shirt again to cover yourself, but he had nothing on. He felt naked, vulnerable, self-conscious. He drew the covers higher across his chest.

“You want some coffee before leaving? It’s pretty late,” you offered, and if there was kindness in the offer, it still broke his heart.

“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure I can drive,” he answered earnestly.

“You can sleep in the guest room, if you want.”

He looked away to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes.

He was inside you ten minutes ago, he had tasted you, touched you, made you unravel under him several times this evening… and all you could give him was the guest bedroom?

It wasn’t just heartbreak, he realized. It was more vicious than that. You made him feel terrible about himself. Did he not mean more to you than that? You could let him do all these things to you… but you couldn’t fall asleep in the same bed? Really?

“No, no, no… it’s okay, I can drive.”

“It’s late, stay the night. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s dangerous, Andy.”

“I said I’m fine.”

You frowned at the harshness of his tone.

“What’s wrong? Did I… Did I do something wrong while we were…”

You left your sentence suspended in mid-air, as if you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say that you had just had sex with him. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Sex was amazing, that’s not the problem.”

“What’s the problem, then?”

You seemed to truly have no clue. You seemed genuinely concerned, worried even. Like you cared. Like you cared so fucking much for him. And yet, he was worthy of a moment of pleasure, and the guest bedroom…

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m not tired enough to stay, don’t worry. I can drive home.”

“Can you text me, then, when you’re home?”

“Don’t worry…”

“It’s two in the morning, of course I worry.”

He didn’t argue, merely nodded.

He gathered his clothes, got dressed, left without trying to kiss you, he knew you wouldn’t let him.

No kissing without sex.

He was about to fall asleep after mere minutes behind the wheel, so he stopped on the first parking spot he saw. He waited for a plausible time, and texted you.

I’m home.

Your answer buzzed in his pocket right when he was about to fall asleep.

Good to hear. Sleep well, Andy. Xx

He couldn’t keep on doing this for long. Making love to you, and then feeling like shit about himself because you couldn’t bother letting him fall asleep in your bed. Or hold you close. Or kiss you before leaving.

He closed his eyes, unable to decide on what to do next. Should he just call it quits, already? Stop everything and save himself from suffering… but he would stop having you like this too…

His breathing deepened as he finally surrendered.

Sleep well, Andy…

Rugby night at the pub had turned into Sam freaking out about his wedding, and Andrew taking notes about things he needed to help planning.

Luckily, there was no touring planned, no album to be released before the wedding. He had some charity work to be done, Mavis had called for a concert and he couldn’t refuse the woman anything… all in all, there wasn’t to come. Workwise, Andrew was in a writing phase, shutting himself up into his house for hours was most of what would happen in the coming months. He could help to plan the wedding, he had time for it. And considering the level of stress Sam was under, Andrew’s help wouldn’t be too much…

“Daphne started to mention appetizers yesterday… there are like… so many of these… How am I supposed to choose that? I didn’t fucking know there could be so many appetizers?!”

“Sam, calm down, for Christ’s sake! You’re this far from having a stroke.”

“Easy for you to say, Andy! You’re not the one getting married!”

“You have five months, Sam… Five months. There is plenty of time for you to choose your appetizers.”

“Add it to the list. How many things do we have to plan?”

“Hmmm… I think I’m up to twenty…eight. Twenty-eight things.”

“God… why did I ask Daphne to marry me…”

Andrew opened his mouth to offer a joke, but Sam shushed him with a raised finger.

“Rhetorical question. Don’t.”

“Come on, relax, Sam. You’ll be perfectly fine. Everyone else manages to plan a wedding, you can too.”

“Not everyone else… don’t you remember the fiasco that my uncle’s wedding was?”

“I sang at that wedding!”

“That was the only decent part in the entire day.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“You were seventeen, don’t get ahead of yourself, you were still pretty shite.”

“Ha, there you go. I thought someone had replaced you with some weird doppelgänger stuff. Or a clone, even.”

“Android?”

“Or organic.”

“Did I grow in a tube?”

“Yeah… with the disgusting liquid.”

“Nice…”

The two friends exchanged a smile.

“Please, stop being so worried. Your wedding will be amazing. Besides… who cares about appetizers? The important part is you marrying the love of your life.”

“I know that this comes from a very romantic point of view, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve met my mom. God, you’ve met Daphne’s mom… anything goes wrong, it’ll be the bloody apocalypse!”

“We’ll find your body somewhere in Wicklow…”

“In the bog.”

“Tragic. I can see the headlines already…”

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely speech for my funerals, though.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll reveal my true feelings about you, gobshite.”

Sam couldn’t keep the act up any longer, and both him and Andrew exploded with laughter.

“I’m picturing your mother just… shouting at you about appetizers,” Andrew laughed, choking and tears pearling at the corners of his eyes as he doubled over.

Sam was barely breathing at this point, throwing his entire body backwards against the chair.

It took the two of them a moment to calm down. When he looked at his friend again, Sam’s gaze was full of fondness.

“I’m sorry to bother you about that while we could be watching rugby with the rest of the lads.”

“It’s alright. You’re stressed. Besides, I don’t have a real job, plenty of time on my hands to handle your nervous breakdowns.”

“True! You parasite.”

“Absolute junk of our society.”

“Nothing productive coming from you, that’s for sure.”

“I shout very loudly though, it ought to be worth something.”

“Well, apparently, it’s worth millions.”

“Do you want me to shout at your wedding?”

Sam’s lips curled into a smile.

“Aren’t you too expensive for a poor lad like me.”

“Undoubtedly. But if you promise to quit freaking out about appetizers, I might yield.”

“It would be amazing. Thank you, Andy. I’d love for you to sing. Actually, we’ve been talking about it with Daphne… could you do Work Song for our first dance?”

“It would be an honour. Of course, I can.”

“We were hesitating with Cherry Wine…”

“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”

They both exploded with laughter again.

“Don’t do this to me. I will never understand…”

“Don’t people just… listen to the lyrics?” nodded Sam.

“I don’t know, man…” Andrew heaved a sigh. “Sometimes they just kill me.”

His phone buzzed, and there was your name on it. Printed there in the pixels. He didn’t check your text, even though he wanted to.

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Andrew averted his gaze, drank some of his beer. On the screen at the back of the pub, Ireland was earning three points with penalty kick. People were shouting, and it was loud and merry.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” Andrew answered, a terrible liar.

“You’ve been weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“True, but not the usual weird. You’re not on the ‘I love her and I’m too much of a fool to tell her’ kind of weird, you’re on a ‘I feel like shite’ kind of weird.”

“Both miserable situations…”

“True. But then, you’re a moron, it doesn’t help.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“I can’t tell you about it. She asked me not to tell you about it.”

“So… something did happen between you and Y/N.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Sam. I’m serious.”

“Of course, I promise.”

“Not even Daphne.”

“Don’t push it. There are no secrets between us.”

“Sam… please… it’s not your secret, it’s mine.”

He heaved a sigh, but Sam nodded anyway.

“What’s wrong then?”

Andrew struggled to swallow when he lifted his glass of Guiness up to his lips.

“Y/N and I, we… we’ve slept together.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“What?! But… that’s amazing!”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” retorted Sam, taken-aback.

Andrew heaved a painful sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Because she doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”

“Oh.”

“So, we’ve agreed on some kind of… friends with benefits situation. And I… I’m starting to regret it.”

“You bet. Damn… why the fuck would you agree to something like that, though? You’re crazy about the woman!”

“I know, I know… I thought… I thought that she would… I don’t know what I thought. It was that or nothing, and I guess I imagined that having a part of her was better than not having her at all. I was wrong. This is fucking killing me.”

Andrew buried his head in his hands.

“What the fuck did I do, Sam? What did I do? And what the fuck do I do now?”

“Do you want this to go on?”

Andrew shook his head no, face still in his palms.

“Then, tell her you want it to stop.”

“I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want… not to have her. I want to date her.”

“Tell her that then.”

“She explicitly told me that she didn’t want to date anyone. If I say that, she’ll just… leave. She won’t say yes.”

“You need to speak to her. It won’t end well for you, Andy. What if she feels the same?”

“I’ll wait for her,” Andrew answered without a hesitation. “I’ll wait as long as she needs.”

“Then tell her that.”

But Andrew blinked back some tears as he painfully rubbed at his palms.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?  What then?”

“Then… you’ll move on. It will only mean that she isn’t the one.”

Andrew slowly nodded, resting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table, but he didn’t seem convinced, and indeed, he wasn’t. What if he lost you for good then? What if you never wanted to see him again? Was it worth it?

“You’re going to do something stupid, I can feel it,” Sam sighed with a shake of his head.

“No…”

“You’re going to ignore my advice.”

“No, I… I’m weighing the pros and the cons.”

“And?”

“And I agree that I can’t handle my relationship with Y/N being just about sex. But I am also terrified at the thought that she will reject me for good. Cause I… I don’t think I could still be her friend. Not after… knowing her that way.”

“Can I be brutally honest?”

“As if you aren’t always…”

“You’ve seriously fucked up accepting this situation with her…”

“Don’t I know it.”

Sam stared at his friend for a moment.

“You really do love her, don’t you?”

Andrew settled an empty stare on his beer.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”

Only An Almost (VI)

Chapter 6: Hiding

Hello!! Here is a new chapter!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 2387

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

Andrew needed to talk to you.

After his conversation with Sam, there was no doubt left in his mind that he needed to tell you how he truly felt. This… situation, this… arrangement… it couldn’t go on. It was hurting him too much. Having you for a moment, and then being back to square one, holding himself back all the time, and this fool’s hope that you could feel the same if he waited…

He couldn’t keep on doing this. Another week and two nights with you had passed, and Andrew was now resolute. As he was knocking on your front door and then digging his hands in his pockets, he kept on repeating the words he had prepared beforehand. It was so much easier to write things down, he had sketched his speech this morning.

I know you don’t want a relationship at the moment, I understand that.

He knocked a second time as you weren’t opening the door.

But I’m not sure this… arrangement of ours is a good idea. I see you as more than just a friend. Way more than that. And I don’t think that I can keep on being casual with you.

At long last, the keys turned in the lock, and he stood a little straighter, taking a deep breath.

I get it that this is not the right time for you, and that’s alright. I’ll wait. I’ll wait all the time you need to have a proper date and a proper relationship with you. I’ll wait for you.

You opened the door.

I’ll wait for you, Y/N, if you want to give me a chance…

“Andy? Were we… had we something planned for today?”

“Hi! Erm… not exactly, but like… I haven’t seen you in a few days, I was getting worried you might have been eaten by some roaming spirit or the monster under your bed or something…”

He mentally slapped himself for such a weird and stupid joke.

You granted him an amused smile nonetheless, he was even ready to believe that you were struggling not to laugh.

“I’m alright, I’m just super busy with work.”

“You look tired.”

You looked exhausted, actually, with bags under your eyes, dishevelled hair…

“Thanks, I guess…”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not what I meant. You are always stunning. But you do look like you haven’t had a proper rest in a few days.”

“I have so many things to do…”

You heaved a sigh, and it was easy to see that you were buzzing with anxiety.

“Can I come in?” Andrew finally asked, but he was surprised when you hesitated.

“I have some work to do…”

“It’s Sunday afternoon, you’re not supposed to be working on Sunday.”

“Andy…”

“Do I really need to beg?”

He gave you a crooked smile, the ones he thought were almost cocky but behind which he badly hid that he was worried. You heaved a sigh and let him in.

“Tea?” you asked, although you were already grabbing the kettle by the time Andrew had rid himself of his coat.

“Thanks,” he smiled as he sat down by your table.

He waited until you were sitting with him before speaking again. He reckoned that you needed to be eased into the conversation he was aiming for, so he started with niceties.

“What has you so busy then?”

“Work. Important projects.”

“What kind?”

“Look, Andy… I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have time for this…”

“You can’t keep on working without taking a break… it’s Sunday.”

“Like you’re never working on Sundays.”

“I’m a musician, not an office employee. If I want to, I can decide not to work for an entire month, and no one is going to say a thing about it.”

“Touché…”

“Seriously, though… I’m just worried. Why don’t you take a small break with me, huh?”

“Andy, if you came to get laid, I’m not in the mood…”

“I didn’t…”

He frowned as he stared at you, offended by the thought. Your expression softened.

“Sorry. I’m a little on edge.”

“I haven’t heard from you in several days, I was just stopping by to check up on you.”

“I know… I’m sorry, that’s very nice of you, actually. I’m just so…”

“Stressed? Tired? On the verge of a nervous breakdown?”

“All of the above…”

Andrew drank a gulp of tea or two, before standing up in a jolt.

“Come on, go get changed.”

“What?”

“You need some fresh air. Some fresh air, and a nice walk. Come on. Get properly dressed, we’re leaving.”

“Andy…”

“You look like a zombie, you need a break.”

“I thought I was still stunning.”

“You are. Don’t ask me how you do it. Come on!”

You smiled, and seemed to hesitate one last time before getting up as well. You went to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he bent to meet you halfway.

“Thank you, Andy. Where are we going?”

“I’ll find a nice spot, I promise.”

How could Andrew bring up this conversation?

He kept his words light and playful during the short drive to the spot he knew you would like. Some quiet path winding through the Wicklow hills, one that you knew already, but didn’t go there often. It was an easy, peaceful walk. Perfect to focus on nature, and get out of your head. It would do you good.

You were finally starting to relax, and Andrew didn’t dare to bring up the subject he so desperately needed to discuss. Partly because he didn’t want to stress you out again, partly because he was too afraid.

You joked around and spoke of unimportant but lovely things while you walked, his fingers brushing yours every once in a while, blaming the uneven terrain for the ghostly touch. But he didn’t reach out, didn’t hold onto you. He didn’t dare to.

You had brought some snacks with you, prepared while Andrew was pestering you to hurry. He decided that he would talk to you while you took a break to eat them. Yes, that sounded good…

“How often do you come here?” you asked him after a short silence.

“To this spot you mean? I don’t know… Haven’t come in a few weeks, that’s for sure.”

You giggled, and he slowed down to walk next to you again.

“You and your long legs. Wait for us mortals, would you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“I’ll give you a snack.”

“Hmm… that could work.”

“Or actually, never mind that. Go ahead and play the lure. So the beasts will attack you and spare me.”

“The beasts? What beasts? The squirrels? A bird?”

“There are badgers everywhere around here.”

“True, but I’m too skinny for their taste, I’m sure.”

“A bite-size ankle.”

“Nothing but bone, I’m afraid. Not enough sustenance. They’ll have to get to you, eventually.”

“Naughty.”

You walked further along the quiet path, laughing and joking and talking nonsense. And this was nice, unbelievably nice. There was just something about you that made Andrew’s shoulders lighter, his world brighter.

Love. It’s love.

You took a turn, came to particularly nice spot, breaking free from the trees of the forest trail. There was a clear view of the hills from there, and the valleys below.

“This is so nice. You were right, I was cooked up at home, and then at the office… I needed this. I needed some time outside, to clear my head.”

The Wicklow hills rolled before you, in various shades of green, the bluish grey of a stream running between them. You sat down together on an old stone wall, and you shared your snack with him: some slices of apple and a few biscuits.

“It’s so nice out here. We had not done that in a while, had we?” you went on, before taking a bite at the piece of apple in your hand.

The fruits were sweet and sticky with juice and sugar. The flesh had turned a little brown, oxidized by the air. Andrew hummed in agreement as he took another piece.

“Yeah, a few months, I’d say.”

“Longer than that. I don’t think we’ve done this since you’ve been back.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

He saw your gaze softening with sadness, something close to melancholy.

“How do you do it?”

Andrew frowned in response, silently asking what you meant. You looked at the landscape again as you answered.

“The touring. The constant travelling. Always being away from home. How do you do it?”

Andrew shrugged.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I get to do what I love, I can’t complain about it, I reckon. I’m so lucky people across the world love my music, that… total strangers on another continent can find something to relate to in my songs… It’s more than I’ve ever hoped for concerning my career. I’m very grateful for that.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He couldn’t refrain a small smile at that. You were always so stubborn, never letting him get away with things. He loved that about you, it was endearing.

He set his gaze on the landscape too, tracked some clouds drifting in the blue sky. The weather was so lovely this afternoon… he wondered when it would turn to rain.

“It’s tough,” he admitted. “On one hand I’m unbearably lucky. I love travelling, I’m going to places I would never have dreamt of visiting. I meet amazing people. I get to perform my songs, and people come to see me. And I would lie if I pretended that I don’t love touring. But it’s… it’s hard to be away for so long. You live out of a suitcase. You don’t have a proper bed, not to mention your own. You never sleep twice in the same place, you’re always busy, always torn in a thousand directions at once… you’re never on your own, there are constantly at least five people in the same room as you. Sleeping in a bus is hell. You’re… exhausted, all the time. Stressed because of all the things to do, stressed about the schedule, the interviews, the nerves before a show… And I miss home. I miss my parents, and my brother. I miss my friends. I miss my house, and my dog, and my bees, and just… this. I miss this place. And I miss you…”

He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to look at you again, feeling your stare upon him.

“But in the end, I love it. There’s nothing as rewarding as hearing someone else singing something I have written. There’s nothing as exhilarating as being on stage, and performing and… It feels like I was born to do that. It just feels so right. It’s the same when I write music. It just feels right.”

Slowly, you nodded, a gentle smile on your lips.

“I understand. But it sounds lonely.”

“I’m literally never on my own, that’s an issue, actually… to me it is, at least.”

“But you’re not with your family. Can you say that you’re with the people who matter most to you?”

“Some of them are.”

“What about most of us?”

He granted you a sad smile.

“Yeah… yeah, I miss all of you.”

You looked away again, and he was surprised to catch a glimpse at tears in your eyes.

“I don’t think I could do it. Not just travelling but… just… how can you be with someone if you’re never here?”

It was his turn to look away to hide rising tears. His throat tightened, his heart dropped, his chest was collapsing…

Was that why you didn’t want to be with him? Why you kept him at arm’s length?

“It can be difficult,” he nodded.

“Is that why you broke up with your ex?”

“There were a bunch of reasons. But it was one of them, yeah.”

“I… I don’t think I could handle it. Waiting for you to come back…”

“I understand.”

“Don’t get me wrong, when I proposed our… arrangement… it wasn’t because it was you. I… I genuinely don’t want to date anyone at the moment. My job is a lot. And I… I’m a little lost these days. What I’m trying to say is that… I feel lonely, sometimes. But I can’t be in a relationship right now. But if I proposed for us to remain friends, it wasn’t because I was rejecting you specifically. Do you see what I mean?”

“I think so… but I… I mean like… my career means that… if you were in a position that allowed you time and space for a relationship, you would still not choose me, right? That’s what it means.”

“I…”

But you grew quiet, and he wasn’t stupid. His vision was blurred with tears: a mix of several shades of green, a splash of blue and some grey and white. A cloud was passing.

He had come all the way here with you to talk, and he had his answer.

“You’re… you’re still okay with what we agreed on, right?”

What could he answer?

No… no, it hurts more than anything I’ve ever experienced. But I can’t lose you for good. I’m not strong enough to survive it…

“Had I been anything else but a touring musician… would you have wanted to date me?” he asked, voice deeper than usual, unbearably fragile.

You didn’t say anything; he took your answer for a no.

He was being a fool…

“I can’t think like that, Andy.”

“Why not?”

“For the same reason you can’t stay for the entire night. That we can’t have pet names. That you can’t kiss me now.”

He blinked his tears away to look at you, frowning, silently encouraging you to keep going.

“I can’t let you break my heart, Andrew.”

His lips parted at your words, he tried to wrap his mind around their meaning, blinked a few times.

It was… It was him. He was the problem. Him, and his job. The same pattern it had always been, all over again, but with you this time around.

You cleared your throat, stood up in a hurry.

“Come on, let’s finish this hike!”

He looked at you as you started to walk away, but didn’t move a muscle.

You could have loved him, and he would still stand no chance at all…

Only an Almost (VIII)

Chapter  8: Hopes and Disappointments

Hello!! Here is another chapter! I apologize for this (that's not true, I love breaking my own heart). Also special warning for this chapter, there is a sex scene (first few paragraphs). Not written as smut, but still pretty explicit so, no minors!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 2550

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

It was in the way you held onto him. The way the two of you moved in perfect sync. The way you peppered his neck with kisses, the way you knew he adored. The way you tightened your hold on his hand, the one he held by the side of your head, against the sheets, as pleasure grew almost unbearable. It was in the way you whispered his name, warm breath burning against his ear and cheek while he pressed his lips to your skin. It sounded like a prayer, like a wish, like a loving chant. A whisper loud enough to cover the banging of his own heart against his eardrums, his staggering and heavy breathing, the creaking of the bed under your united bodies.

No one had ever said his name like that. It sounded different when you said it. Tasted different when he kissed your lips as they formed his vowels and consonants again. And he murmured your name as well, right there against your mouth, in a sigh, like it was the most sacred word he could ever speak, the most beautiful sound in the world, and it was… it was…

I love you…

He almost said it, but pleasure was overwhelming, and he moaned instead; the two sounds meant the same thing.

It was in the way you were so close to him, the way he felt like he could touch your soul like this. The way you worshipped each other’s bodies instead of simply touching. The way you stared right into his eyes, on the verge of the highest form of pleasure, and gently touched his cheek, like… like there was adoration in your eyes, the same he felt for you. And he watched as you became undone, as you broke into fragments of pleasure, his name on your lips shouted instead of whispered this time. He pressed his forehead to yours as he finally let himself follow you in ecstasy, and it felt like you cushioned his fall, how you held him even closer, clinging to him as he stuttered around the sound of your name…

It was in the way sex was simply better with you. Perhaps it was because he loved you. Feelings made the intimacy of sex so much more intense. But the way you rubbed his back now, soothing and gentle and loving…

Because of all these reasons and a thousand more, Andrew couldn’t convince himself that you didn’t care, that this was just about fucking, about getting a moment of pleasure with no sentimental strings attached to it. He finally opened his eyes again when you cradled his cheek, thumb gentle as it brushed through his beard.

If it were just about pleasure, why would you keep him close now? Why would you reach up to kiss his cheekbone, and then his eyelids, the gesture infinitely tender?

He kept on holding onto your hand, even if not as tightly. He knew you craved for that contact, for that anchor. His other hand slipped under your back to hold you closer, to hold you lovingly against him, and the gesture made you smile against his eyelashes.

I love you…

“God… that was so good, Andy,” you whispered with some awe on your face and in your content smile, like you couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. But to be fair, neither could he.

“Divine, I would say,” he corrected, making you giggle as you kissed his lips again.

“Can’t disagree with that,” you nodded, brushing your nose against his in the process, making him grin.

You touched and kissed and caressed for a while longer, before you would both take some time to clean up and get ready for a proper cuddle. The first few weeks, you didn’t linger for so long with him in bed after sex, but now you seemed to indulge in the comfort that came with being held like this, wearing little to no clothes, holding onto each other and saying sweet nothings into the other’s ear, and kissing… and sometimes going further than just kissing again…

Not tonight though. When Andrew walked out of the bathroom and back in the bedroom, your eyes were closed. You had stolen one of his old t-shirts, buried under his blanket, your expression peaceful as your breathing was audibly deeper than usual.

Andrew slipped quietly back in bed, trying not to wake you. Still, you blinked your eyes open as he was lying down.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, trying to sit up, but Andrew held you back.

“Hey, don’t be silly. You’re exhausted, get some sleep.”

“We said that we wouldn’t sleep together. I mean… actually sleep… you know what I mean.”

“Y/N, you’re knackered. Lay down and get some sleep. I don’t bite… unless that’s your thing?”

“I hate you.”

“I’ll take that for a no. Dully noted,” he joked, pushing his hair out of the way as he rested his head on his own pillow.

“I should go home.”

“You can’t drive, you’re too tired. And I’m too tired to drive you home, so just… stay. It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen if you stay the night. Most people do, even if it’s just a one-night stand.”

You remained quiet, and he knew your brain was working at full speed. He hated himself for his next question, but if it meant that you would stay, just this once…

“You want me to sleep on top of the covers?”

You rolled your eyes, but visibly relaxed.

“We’ve just had sex, I don’t fear for my modesty.”

“Then, stay. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

“Tempting.”

“I know, I’m a grand cook.”

“Decent cook.”

“I’ll take it.”

His hold on your arm loosened, he tenderly caressed the soft skin right above your elbow, on the inside of your arm. You didn’t move away.

“I am very tired,” you whispered, as if trying to argue with yourself.

Andrew sat up as well, leaning in to kiss your shoulder through his own shirt.

“Stay, Y/N. Stay for the night. Please, stay… stay…”

I love you.

He almost said it.

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching out for him and pulling him down with you as you lied down once more.

He tucked you in, not daring to hold you, worried to make you uncomfortable and for you to run away again. Instead, you both laid on your sides, staring at each other in the silvery light that came in from the window. He caught your eyes falling to look at his chest, the skin made even paler under the moonlight, and he didn’t mind. Your gaze was gentle, safe. For once, he didn’t hide, let the covers rest on his hips instead of covering him fully. Meanwhile, he was admiring the silver droplets that were being caught on your eyelashes…

It was silent, still, a moment suspended in comfort and hesitation.

But then your expression grew a little more fragile, more hesitant, as you looked into his eyes again. Slowly, you moved closer, as a test, perhaps. Andrew didn’t hesitate a second, and he wrapped his long arms around you, holding you close to his chest. He felt your muscles relax under his touch, and you placed a peck against his heart as a reward.

“Please, keep holding me,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t. I won’t,” he repeated as a promise.

You both fell asleep like this, holding each other close, your lips to his heart and his to your hair.

When he woke up the next morning, you were gone.

“The wedding is in less than four months…”

“Daphne, please, breathe. Sam has enough anxiety for all of us, I can’t have you as worried as him.”

You plopped down on your seat next to Andrew, a brand-new cup of tea in your hands. Opposite you, Daphne and Sam were freaking out about their wedding.

“Guys, it’s in four months, we have plenty of time… There is no reason to panic.”

“We still haven’t decided what flavour we should have for the cake…”

“Stop, just stop, both of you.”

You grabbed the notebook that was set on the table and a pen, scribbling something.

“You are perfectly on time for everything. Do not worry. Oh, and I’ve booked your appointments for the wedding dress and the suit, as planned. Everything is fine.”

“Oh my God, I can’t wait!” Daphne squealed, suddenly more excited than nervous. “I’m going to buy a wedding dress…”

“What about the bachelor’s party, Andy?”

Daphne threw her fiancé a disapproving look.

“What? It’s a perfectly sound question!” Sam defended himself. “It’s tradition!”

“You’d better not do something too crazy.”

“What about you? You might do some crazy things for your last night as an unmarried woman!”

“I’ll get properly wasted with my friends and eat too much chips.”

“Sounds wonderful, honey,” Sam grinned at his excited fiancée.

“Also, I want a striptease.”

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head as Sam was choking on his tea and Andrew was exploding with laughter.

“I agree with Y/N!” Sam interjected after he could breathe again. “You aren’t getting a striptease!”

“Why not?”

“Because… that’s… objectifying bodies!”

Daphne grinned, humour and mischief shining in her eyes.

“You’re jealous!” she teased, making her fiancé scoff.

“I’m not!”

“Are too!”

“Have you seen me? Why would I worry about my fiancée seeing a six-pack-guy dancing some sexy dance when I can give you love-handles and walk on your feet?”

“I have no clue. The choice is easy to make,” Daphne answered with a grin that grew more tender right before she kissed him. “I was teasing you, you idiot. I’ll settle for getting very drunk.”

“My plan, exactly!”

“Okay, so… before you two start snogging and being disgustingly sweet…” you interrupted them, guiding the conversation back on track. “Andy takes care of the cake appointments. I call for the lodgings and the venue. You guys find out when your relatives arrive precisely, and you choose the caterer.”

“And I’ll call for the rings too, to book an appointment,” Andrew added, sipping on his tea.

You scribbled a few more words on your paper. Sam heaved a relieved sigh, letting himself fall back into his chair.

“Alright, if this is done… then Andy and I will go get food for lunch, while you ladies set up the table.”

“I’ve got to go…” you tried to protest, but your friends had other plans.

“No, you don’t. It’s Saturday, you are not working, and you’re staying for lunch. I’ve already called this Chinese place you like,” Daphne argued, and you had to yield, eventually.

Before Andrew stepped out of the house, he threw you one last glance; and you were looking at him too so he caught your gaze with his. You exchanged a fond smile, a silent sign of tenderness, before he would follow Sam as he walked out of the house towards his car while babbling away about this monster he had managed to beat in Zelda.

They had barely climbed in the car, Sam quickly turning on the engines, when he blurted out his question.

“So… now that we’re alone… tell me what’s going on with Y/N!”

Andrew couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that the only reason why you asked me to come with you?”

“Obviously, did you really think I’d want to see your ugly face if it weren’t for the drama?”

“Keeping the artist around for the entertainment… makes sense!”

“Precisely! Now, spit it out!”

Andrew heaved a sigh, looked out the window to the moving houses and the blur of trees over a grey sky.

“Not much to say about it, I’m… lost.”

“So… you’re still doing this?”

“For now, yeah…”

“So, you didn’t follow my advice.”

“No, I haven’t yet.”

“And so, you’re going to get your heart broken…”

Andrew remained silent for a moment, his throat tightening to the point that he needed a moment to find his voice back. When the words tumbled out, his voice was deep and low, shaking.

“I reckon that’s already too late for that.”

He passed a hand across his face, rubbing at his eyes.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, because I already know that. It’s just, I… I couldn’t help it. And I can’t let her go now. It’s just… it hurts too much…”

Sam remained silent for the rest of the ten-minutes drive. He didn’t unlock the doors after he parked the car though. Andrew stared at a couple walking hand-in-hand across the street, watched the grey sky and wondered if it would rain before he and Sam got back…

“Do you think she feels the same as you do?” Sam finally asked.

Andrew merely shrugged.

“I’m not sure. On one hand she doesn’t let me kiss her outside of a bedroom; on the other hand, the way she acts with me, I… I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s pushing me away because she’s scared, or because she doesn’t feel anything but physical attraction for me.”

“I see…”

“She’s just… just the way she is with me… she acts like she cares, like I’m not just some random guy she’s sleeping with. But then she has these rules that are making sure that we’re not having something… too intimate. You know what I mean? Like… pet names and stuff…”

“I see…”

The two men remained silent for a moment, before Sam asked quietly another question.

“Are you… are you two exclusive?”

“We’re not together,” Andrew shook his head.

“But have you slept with other women since this has begun?”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you planning on doing that?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Has she? Slept with other people?”

“God, I hope not… don’t make me think about that…”

“Sorry, sorry…”

Another silence, before Sam started to smile.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan!”

“Here comes trouble…”

“You need to finally know if she has feelings or if she’s… dragging you along.”

“What a revolutionary idea, I hadn’t thought of that one!”

Sam merely ignored Andrew’s sarcasm.

“My plan is simple: make her jealous.”

“What?”

“Make her jealous! You feign to be interested in another woman, and you’ll see how Y/N reacts! If she’s jealous, it means that she cares for you… beyond just having you around for sex. If she doesn’t give two shits about you banging someone else, then…”

Andrew took a moment to ponder this idea, and he slowly nodded.

“That’s… actually a rather good idea…”

“There’s a party next week with the whole gang, at the usual pub. Perfect moment to try it!”

“I…”

“All you have to do is flirt with a woman. Even you can manage that, Andy! Trust me, it’ll work.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, perhaps it could work.”

“And if she’s not jealous at all, if she really doesn’t feel the same… you have to bail out, now, mate. Cause she’s going to have you in pieces if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

Andrew nodded, and when Sam climbed out of the car, he followed him in silence, thinking about next week and contemplating how, for the first time in his life, he hoped he could bring you pain.

Only an Almost (X)

Chapter 10: Too Sweet

Hello!! Here is another chapter! This one is very fluffy!! (Surprising, I know) Also, some heavy make-out… let me remind you that this is not written for minors!

We are already halfway-through this fic, as it will be 20-chapters long!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 1549

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

Fucking adorable, that was what you were…

As you looked at Andrew with a grin on your lips, expectant, excited, a tidal wave of affection washed over his heart. A warm, peaceful, affectionate feeling that made him giddy, created butterflies in his stomach, made his heart speed up and a dreamy smile form on his lips.

You were trying to get a peek inside his cupboard, to see his brand-new harvest of honey. He had promised you would get some to take home, and had prepared a little honeypot for you. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you this excited for something as simple as this was turning his heart into a puddle.

“There you go, this one’s yours.”

He handed the small jar. It was nothing special. A plain glass jar filled with honey. You were grinning as you took it in your hands.

“Thank you!”

You rose to your tiptoes to drop a peck to his cheek, and he couldn’t help but blush as he hurried to close the cupboard.

“It’s nothing…”

“It’s your honey! Of course, it’s something! You’ve worked hard to make it.”

“To be fair, the bees are the ones doing all the work,” he dodged the compliment, scrubbing at his cheek in a nervous gesture, feeling his cheeks get warm.

“True,” you admitted in a giggle. “But even if that’s the case, you’re still doing more than I would.”

“Taking care of bees isn’t that hard, you could do it.”

“I don’t know… I’m a little scared at the idea of being surrounded by bees.”

“You’re wearing a suit, it’s alright. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, you’re not harming them, so they won’t harm you either. Perhaps one day, I could teach you. And you could make honey too!”

It would be our honey…

“Hmm… still… I’ll leave the making of the honey to you, and focus on the eating!”

You opened the jar, smelled the sweetness of the nectar inside. You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Smells so good.”

You dipped your finger inside, licked it clean. Andrew struggled to swallow, looking away, trying to control himself.

“It’s delicious! God, Andy! This is so good!”

But Andrew wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking outside, at the rain falling on his garden, holding on the kitchen counter, trying to forget the thoughts that had come up in his mind, the sins he wanted to commit with you…

“You know what would be delicious? Some fruits! Some fruits with your honey would be delicious!”

You opened the cupboard, picked up a plate, and then you reached for the drawer and picked up a knife. Andrew washed an apple and handed it to you without a word. You had spent too much time in his house for this not to be natural. You in his kitchen, making snacks. In silence, he filled up a kettle, still unable to look at you but hiding it well.

You took some mugs from the cupboard above his sink, rising to your tiptoes to reach them. It made Andrew grow a tender smile.

And it was easy. Being there, doing something so insignificant and domestic in his house with you… like you belonged there. It was obvious, the way you moved in this space he called home, like it was yours more than his.

He could picture himself doing this every day with you. Letting you in the spaces that were most private to him, the ones that made him feel safe. You belonged there. You belonged in the warmth of a home he would call his…

“I’ll let you cut the apple, or else you will criticize what I’m doing. I’ll make tea instead,” you told him, a playful smile on your lips, bringing him back to earth.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were right. So, he picked up the knife and cut the apple into slices, the way his mother had taught him years ago, in another kitchen, in another safe place he called home.

You chose your favourite tea, there was always a stache of it in his home. Your favourite biscuits too. Your favourite ice-cream. Your favourite book. Your favourite movie. Your shampoo and soap had been added recently, now that you stayed for a shower. But pieces of you had always been here, you had always been here…

You put the pieces in a bowl, added a little bit of honey, just enough to make the fruit sticky and sinfully sweet. You gave a happy wiggle when you ate the first piece, not waiting for Andrew to give you a fork, and instead, picking it up with your fingers, making them sticky as well.

“Delicious!” you complimented him, making his heart jump.

This afternoon was lovely. It was raining hard outside, the sky a mournful shade of grey; but it was warm inside Andrew’s home, and you were happy and smiling, and joking around, and life was good for as long as you were in it…

Andrew didn’t think as he bent down, capturing your lips with his. He barely registered his movements when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, a hand sprayed across your spine, the other holding firmly your waist. You let out a surprised sigh, and then you blinked your eyes closed, hands coming up to cradle his face.

You tasted of apple and honey, sweetness at its finest. Too sweet to be real…

Your lips were sticky with the juice of the fruit and the sugar of the honey. Andrew didn’t care. He didn’t mind either when your fingers ran down his neck to open the buttons of his shirt. He could feel the sugar on them too.

You broke free from his embrace, leaving him dizzy with your taste and your warmth against his body. He blinked down at you.

“Sorry, my hands are all sticky. Hang on.”

You washed the honey away, and Andrew waited impatiently next to you, opening and closing his fists, trying not to reach out, not to scare you away.

You were so beautiful…

“Better,” you smiled, showing your clean hands, and he smiled back at you without noticing.

God, he loved you so fucking much, and he couldn’t say it. But then again, he saw how your gaze softened, how your expression grew peaceful with tenderness. And he caught himself dreaming that this could be love, that you could feel the same.

It was stupid, perhaps, it was him forgetting about the major obstacle that was his career, and your fear of living a lonely life because of him. Still, as he looked at you then, he let himself believe for a second that one day, he could finally speak the words that rested for now on the tip of his tongue.

Still, your touch was soft when you took his hand in yours.

“Andy?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow to encourage you to speak.

“Can we go to your bedroom now?”

You added mischief to your smile, it made him dizzy; thoroughly addicted to the sight too.

He gently pulled on your hand so you would follow him. You didn’t steal kisses until you were both standing in front of his large bed. And then your lips were back on his, you were freeing his hair from the messy bun he had been sporting. His hand slipped under your t-shirt and your jumper, spreading his fingers over your bare skin. Warm. Soft. Making his entire body burn with desire.

When his lips moved to your neck, you let out a moan, and he reckoned that this ought to be the sound of heaven, the perfect melody he had been looking for all his life.

“Can I be on top?” you asked in a tone made shaky by his fingers pulling on your bra.

“Whatever you want, honey,” Andrew mumbled into your skin, before attaching his lips to yours again.

You didn’t correct him, let him have the pet name. Perhaps your mind was as blurry as his while you kissed passionately, while your fingers finished to unbutton his shirt. The blink of an eye, and somehow you were shirtless, skin exposed to the air and to Andrew’s angry lips while you stumbled to reach his bed.

He lost his shirt before you gently pushed him on the bed, and then you were lying on top of him, and Andrew had to pinch himself to remember that this was real, no matter how many times he had lived this scene before.

You hovered over him, just a breath away, looking at him like you were admiring him…

“You’re so handsome, Andy…” you let out in a whisper, like a confession. It made his body slightly tremble.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You shook your head, and he caught himself thinking that this look in your eyes held more than infatuation or physical attraction. Something closer to adoration, the kind of gazes he aimed at you.

You blinked, eyes glimmering in the light made dim by the rain outside. Your voice was deeper when you spoke, almost hoarse, as if tightened with emotions.

“Andy… I lo…”

But you stopped, left him suspended to your words. You let out a shaky breath, and instead of speaking, merely kissed him again.

Hold on a minute, I’m SOBBING because this is so BEAUTIFUL

📸RuthlessImagery

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 3450

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

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

Hozier On Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

❝ if you want a metaphor for oral sex, right, here you go. ❞

Only an Almost (XIX)

Chapter 19: Ascent

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We only have two chapters left, including this one :(

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

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

Word Count : 5157

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

Andrew was never more aware that he was getting older.

The hangover that was stabbing his temples with daggers was the best reminder of all.

Details from the end of the night were fuzzy, at best. He wasn’t certain how he got home, but he had somehow managed to reach his bed. He was still wearing his shirt and pants from the wedding, his hair was a mess, but that was nothing compared to the fog that clogged his brain.

He made a stop by the kitchen first to drink some water, prepared some strong coffee. He splashed some cold water on his face to clear his head. Christ… he needed a shower. Maybe two.

He could recall a cab driver, some very loud music, jumping up and down with the beat, Sam and Daphne laughing, getting drunk on purpose…

… and then there was you lying in bed, fast asleep, him kissing your forehead in a chaste kiss, tucking you in, helping you through the mansion, finding you in the park, the fear of not knowing where you were, him singing that song to you even if the dance was meant for the married couple…

He could hear your voice ringing in his ears, echoing through his head, beating in his heart. Words that rang again and again. Words that he had dreamt of hearing.

He took a couple of deep breaths, and let the unkind voice in his head take over. You were drunk. You didn’t mean it. You said it yourself you didn’t want to be in a relationship, and especially not with him. You were scared, you didn’t want to take the risk, didn’t want to make the sacrifices that a long-distance relationship would require, not for him, at least, because he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t enough and you didn’t love him, you were just drunk, you didn’t mean it…

He turned on his phone, checked the time. It was already 1pm.

Messages from his friends, from Sam and Daphne, one from his mom, a few from his label…

… and then 10 from you.

He swallowed thickly, but touched your name first anyway.

Hi! I hope you got home safely last night.

First, thank you for taking care of me. I was drunk… obviously

A true gentleman, as usual.

I’m so sorry you had to see that. I was hammered. I wasn’t myself and I said things I shouldn’t have.

Andrew had to stop reading. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, bracing for the rejection that was sure to come… again.

Still, he read on.

I know that I’ve fucked up, and that you don’t want to see me anymore. Which is perfectly understandable, and I completely respect your decision. I had no intention to contact you again. It was completely out of line for me to confess my feelings.

Andrew read that last sentence several times, before rushing to the next text.

I’m sorry about what happened. I know you don’t want to see me anymore, and again, I completely understand. I was an idiot and I’ve fucked up everything. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it. At this point, I just hope that what I said last night didn’t make things even worse.

I know that you’ve probably moved on by now, and I’m not expecting anything from you. I don’t even expect an answer to these texts, and I will simply not contact you again if you choose not to answer. I guess that alcohol simply made me reveal things I would rather not have confessed. I trust you not to tell anyone about this, even if you don’t want to talk to me ever again.

I reckon that I should make it clear, although I expect that you don’t feel the same anymore, that I meant what I said last night. And I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, and told you how I felt while I still could.

His eyes ran through your words again and again, but they remained unchanged, no matter how many times he read them. He let out a long exhale, unable to believe what he was reading was true.

You couldn’t be meaning that… you couldn’t…

I’ll see you this afternoon at our cute couple’s get-together for post-wedding day, before they enjoy their well-deserved honeymoon. Don’t worry though, I won’t initiate a conversation, and will completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me ever again. Also, I’ll stay sober this time, just in case I do something stupid.

If I never hear from you again, know that I wish you the best. You deserve all the happiness in the world.

Andrew struggled to breathe for a moment. He dropped his phone on the counter next to him, buried his face in his hands.

What the fuck was going on?

Andrew hadn’t texted you back. He didn’t want to have this conversation with you over a phone. There were too many things to be told, too many things to be discussed.

He was a ball of nerves by the time three o’clock arrived and he stepped in his friends’ house. Some help was needed to make sure that the rented mansion was in good shape, to take care of the rest of the food and drinks, and obviously, to have another party to celebrate the newlyweds.

And you were there. Standing in the kitchen, making tea, your demeanour perfectly calm, as if you hadn’t dropped a bomb that had shattered his life in a million possibilities the night before…

“Andy!”

You turned to him at the sound of his name, he noticed the way your lips parted, before you looked away in a hurry…

The next second, he was engulfed in Sam’s strong embrace.

“How are you, Mr. Married-man?” Andrew joked, returning the tight hug.

“Ecstatic. Not realising what’s going on…”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Daphne’s gone with her mother to deal with something… don’t remember what… but somebody has to go to the venue to check that everything is fine before we leave for good. Can you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll go.”

“You want some tea first?”

“No, no… I’m fine. I’ll deal with that.”

“Y/N can go with you, you might need help. The caterer left some food there apparently, even if they were supposed to deal with that and pack it up. Also, check that no one has broken anything, we were all quite drunk last night.”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

Andrew looked at you, but you didn’t move towards him. You remained standing there, in the kitchen, the kettle in your hand. You looked almost afraid, definitely uncomfortable.

“You’re coming, Y/N?” he asked, making sure his voice was neutral but still soft. He didn’t want you to believe that he was angry.

You jumped, surprised that he would talk to you. Still, you nodded in a hurry, putting the kettle down.

“Yeah… yeah…”

You offered him a smile, and he reciprocated the gesture. You seemed appeased by it.

You both hurried outside, greeting some other friends who were coming and going, set on different errands. It was merry despite the grey sky and the threat of some new rain.

“I’ll drive,” Andrew said as you reached his car.

“My car is right over there, I’ll follow you.”

“No need, I’ll drop you here after we’re done. Come on.”

You remained staring at him for a moment, clearly trying to gauge his actions.

“I’m not angry,” he said, reading your mind too easily. “You can come in.”

Slowly, you nodded, and opened the car door.

It was silent as Andrew started to drive. An awkward kind of silence that Andrew tried to alleviate by turning on the radio. Van Morrison filled up the empty spaces of the car, while you tried to discreetly look at him, failing miserably. He wanted to laugh at you for being so obvious about it.

It was a short drive to the venue, but he couldn’t find anything to say to you. His throat was dry, he could feel his palms getting clammy at the mere thought of speaking to you. There was too much that needed to be said…

“Andy…” you finally broke the heavy silence, while he was waiting at a red light. “About last night…”

“Can we… can we not do that now?”

When he looked at you, you were clenching your jaw and looking away in a hurry.

“I’m not angry,” he repeated, his voice soft but neutral still.

He didn’t want to let himself get emotional now. There was too much to say and too little time before reaching the venue. Besides, he didn’t want to speak about this in his car, this wasn’t either the right place nor the right time.

“But we should talk about all this after we’re done with the venue and everything… like… when we’re alone and we have time to discuss things.”

“So… you… you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah… I reckon we should.”

“We don’t have to. I understand that you hate me, that you don’t want to have anything to do with me ever again. You don’t have to be this kind to me.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. Christ, you were so wrong… about everything…

“I could never hate you, Y/N. I don’t have that in me.”

“I hurt you. A lot.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“You should hate me.”

But he slowly shook his head, eyes still fixed on the road, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice the way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“That’s not how love works, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything, but he could feel your stare upon him. He didn’t know what he could add, so he let the rest of the drive pass in a silent haze, his mind swarming with thoughts and feelings and trying to figure out what he wanted, what he should do, what was reasonable…

More than anything else, he thought about how nice it was to smell your perfume in his car again.

Andrew had taken care of the caterer and the food while you were going around the bedrooms to make sure nothing was wrong. He was looking for you to give you a hand, the mansion was rather large, and the keys needed to be returned after everything had been cleaned and put in order, or fees might be added. Andrew had offered to pay for everything, but Sam and Daphne had refused, and seemed offended by the idea, so the best Andrew could do now was to make sure they wouldn’t pay anything extra. A few other friends and family members were also helping out, and everything was ready.

He found you in one of the bedrooms. You were checking the room quickly, but everything seemed to be in order, except for something that seemed to have been forgotten on top of an old wooden wardrobe. Andrew looked at you for a few seconds as you went on your tiptoes to try and grab whatever object was up there, but you were too small. An amused smile was drawn to his lips when you huffed in annoyance.

You turned around in a jolt when you heard the floor creaking under his weight. He said nothing, stopped only when he was close to you, so close he would only have to bend to kiss you… And then he reached up, and grabbed the forgotten object.

You both exploded with laughter as Andrew revealed a green bra.

“Somebody had fun here last night,” Andrew laughed.

“They definitely got lucky!”

He handed it to you, but you shook your head.

“I’m not taking this, I have no clue who it belongs to!”

“I can’t walk out of here holding a bra!”

“Why not? Is it better if it’s me?”

“Y/N… They’ll think I had sex with someone!”

“And if I walk out with this they’ll think I had sex with someone…”

He rolled his eyes.

“What do we do, then?”

“Can’t you hide it in your jacket?”

“Can’t you?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, grabbing the piece of garment and stuffing it in the pocket of your vest.

“Alright, crisis averted for our famous diva.”

“A diva? Me?”

You both chuckled at that.

“No, not at all… I don’t know why I joked about that.”

“Because you’re mean.”

He was joking, but your face fell, and the next second you were taking a step back and clearing your throat. And the moment had passed.

“It was the last room. Everybody behaved, apparently.”

“Good… that’s grand… let’s go, then.”

But when he turned towards the door, you held onto his hand.

He lost himself in your eyes… in their shade that he saw at night still, despite the long weeks you had spent apart, and they looked begging now, soft and vulnerable.

“Can we… can we talk before you take me back to my car?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“We can go to my place.”

“Your place?”

“Or yours.”

“You’re sure?”

“We should be alone for this. Alone, and undisturbed.”

You nodded in agreement, letting go of his hand again. He hated the cold of the air that replaced your skin.

You walked out in silence, managed to discreetly get rid of the bra in a bin, stopped to chat with a few friends, but Andrew could hardly be patient anymore. He was careful not to be rude when he pulled you away from the conversation so you could walk back to his car. Still, when you looked at him before climbing in his car, you seemed to read right through him, through the mix of emotions in his hazel eyes, from the impatience to the fear.

“Let’s go to my place,” you said softly as Andrew turned on the engines.

He nodded in silence, struggling to regulate his breathing. There was so much hope and bitterness mingling in his heart now, being injected to his veins, preventing his lungs from functioning properly.

Why had you acted like you didn’t care if you loved him? Did you even love him? Really? Would you be ready to give him a chance? Had you dated anyone since that night?

The drive to your house was made in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. There was music playing on the radio, but Andrew couldn’t notice it. It started to rain at one point, heavy and cold droplets that made it harder to see the road.

Not a word as you both climbed out of his car and hurried to your door, fleeing the rain. It was cold as it dropped on his face, the contrast stark when you let him in your house that was so much warmer.

“Tea?” you merely asked, but didn’t wait for his answer to go prepare a kettle.

He remained frozen in your hallway. All of a sudden, that evening was playing over and over in his head. He looked at the doorknob, and thought about leaving. Just… running away. Never see you again. Then what?

He would spend the next months, or most probably years, trying to forget you, trying to move on. He would bury himself in work so he could numb the pain. Eventually, he’d find someone new, build a life for himself without you in it. He’d avoid you at gatherings with your common friends. He would sing the songs he had written about you, trying to forget that you were the muse behind every note played and every rime spoken. You would find someone else too, get married, build yourself a home and a family with another person joining you in bed every night. Not him. He would never kiss you again, never hold you again, never hear your laughter, never giggle at your snarky remarks, never make love to you ever again…

“Andy?”

He spun around, facing you.

The choice was his. He could still tell you that he never wanted to see you again. That you had hurt him too much and that he didn’t want the two of you to stay in touch.

Or he could walk into your kitchen and talk with you until he was certain about the nature of your feelings for him. And then he’d decide if you were worth putting his heart on the line again or not.

He could run away, or stay.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle, head slightly tilted to the side.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and walked over to you.

“Yeah… just… lost in thought.”

You handed him a cup of tea. No sugar nor milk. Two teabags. He recognized the tag of his favourite brand.

“We should sit down,” you offered, voice hesitant, but he nodded, and you smiled as you took a seat in your living room, around your wooden table.

He sat across from you, silently measured the distance that separated you. You were resting your hands on the wooden surface, and he ached to reach out, hold your fingers tight.

You didn’t seem willing to start the conversation, and after a couple of minutes of both of you silently staring at your cups of tea, Andrew exhaled deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, and finally broke the heavy silence that had entered the room.

“So… last night… when you were drunk…”

“Hmm…”

“I reckon we should start from there.”

“Thank you again, for helping me.”

“There’s no need to thank me for that.”

“Sam said you were worried about me.”

He finally looked up at you, gaze getting caught in your stare, and he couldn’t look away after that. He struggled to swallow.

“Of course, I was worried. You were alone, no one knew where, and you didn’t have your phone with you.”

“But you hate me.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“After what happened, you should hate me.”

He heaved a sigh, shook his head, his shoulders bent under an invisible weight. The burden of loving you despite everything…

“I don’t hate you. I’m just… hurt.”

“It’s not exactly better.”

“No, I guess not… But it’s not aimed at you. It’s aimed at myself.”

You blinked a couple of times, a pained expression on your features.

“Yesterday… you said…”

You looked away, setting your gaze on your tea, on the steam that was rising from the porcelain, on the coloured liquid inside.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I know you didn’t want to hear me say that. Because you want me out of your life, and I understand why. Because I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Andrew clenched his jaw, struggled to keep his heartbeat regular.

“Did you mean it?”

You brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, still avoiding his stare.

“Y/N, look at me. Please, look at me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, but then you complied, looked up at him.

“After everything that has happened, I just need the truth. I just need answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay…”

“Just answer me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to speak.

“Did you mean it?”

You blinked tears away, but slowly nodded still.

“When you said…”

His voice broke, he had to clear it to gather words on his tongue once more.

“When you said that you loved me… did you mean it?”

But you nodded again.

“I did mean it. I shouldn’t have said it, though…”

You fell silent when Andrew buried his face in his hands. He was struggling to breathe, struggling not to cry…

“I’m sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry…”

“Why the fuck did you reject me then?” he interrupted you, looking at you once more, his hands falling loudly on the table. “Why did you keep on pushing me away? On making me feel fucking miserable? If you loved me, why would you hurt me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to… I just….”

Your lips trembled, but you went on anyway, voice calm and a little cold.

“My life was a mess… still kind of is, to be fair. I had a new job, and then… then you kissed me that night at the bar and… old feelings came back. Feelings I had been very good at burying and forgetting. And I just… I didn’t want us to remain just friends, but… I was fucking terrified, Andy. I still am, to be honest. And so, I convinced myself that I could… have you while protecting my heart, which was the worst idea ever thought since the beginning of mankind, clearly…”

You heaved a tired sigh, rubbed your forehead as you tightly closed your eyes.

Andrew was remaining perfectly still, utterly quiet. Waiting for you to continue.

“I just thought… I thought that if we didn’t act like a couple, if we didn’t date, I would be able to control how I feel for you. I thought that it could be casual. And you accepted, and I thought… I thought that it meant that you were just attracted to me, and it helped me ignore my own feelings to believe that you just wanted sex.”

“I didn’t want you just for sex. I never did,” he interrupted you, and you stared at him with pain twisting your features.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“You said that it didn’t mean anything to you. You said that you didn’t have feelings for me, that… that you felt nothing when we were intimate. You said it was just about fucking…”

“I didn’t say any of that...”

“That’s how you behaved, though.”

“I didn’t say it was just about fucking…”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“It wasn’t about fucking. I always had feelings for you.”

He clenched his jaw, heaved a sigh.

“Why did you pretend it didn’t mean a thing then?”

“Because I was scared. And I didn’t feel ready to have a relationship with you.”

“Because I have to go on tours?”

“Yeah… not just that but… mostly, yes. Because you won’t be here. Dating you means signing up for a long-distance relationship, and I don’t know how to deal with that kind of situation.”

Slowly, he nodded.

“I understand that,” he mumbled.

“You’ll never be around… you’re always off to somewhere else. Our lives are so different…”

“But this is my home. It’s always gonna be my home. I’ll always come back.”

“How do you handle not seeing your partner for months?”

He let out a bitter chuckle.

“Badly,” he truthfully answered, and the two of you shared a sad smile.

“I was afraid to open up to you, to be vulnerable, to let myself feel this way… for you to disappear and break up with me because you’d have found someone better on the other side of the globe…”

“Y/N… I understand why my career can seem like a giant obstacle, because it is one. It’s… so fucking hard to not be with the person you love for months, and I’m so goddamn busy when touring that I can’t promise you that I’ll be able to give you the quality time that you deserve. It’s a nightmare to get our schedules to match, to plan everything out, and that’s without counting all the things that are added along the way that weren’t planned at the beginning of touring… And then there’s the press, and the writing, and the recording, and… and I understand, okay? I understand that you would reject me because of that. But Y/N… if you’re just afraid that I might fall for someone else because we’re apart for a few weeks… that is literally the least probable scenario that could ever happen.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he answered simply, earnestly, like it was the most obvious truth on earth. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years. And no one has ever replaced you, even when I thought you felt nothing for me, even when we both were dating other people. Trust me, you’re the only woman I want on this planet. The only one I really want.”

He watched as you took his words in, your lower lip trembling, blinking tears away.

“You should have told me,” he went on. “Instead of inventing this fucking arrangement, you should have just told me.”

“I know. But I wasn’t ready to try and be with you…”

“I would have waited. I would have waited for you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It was fucked up, Y/N… you… it just… it was so painful to me,” Andrew admitted, trying not to let his voice shake too much. “I felt… I felt like you were just using me. I’ve never felt so terrible about myself… cause I… I was just enough for you to fuck me, and nothing more…”

“No, that wasn’t that at all...”

“That’s how it made me feel. Not all the time, of course. There were so many times when I felt… loved. When I felt like you felt more for me than simple physical attraction; most of the time it was the case. And that… it kind of messed with my brain, made me feel like you wanted more; but every time we were getting closer to an actual relationship, you rejected me. And you kept on doing it, over and over, and sometimes it was so fucking painful. Almost mean. And more than unloved, it made me feel… unlovable. Undesirable. And I know that you deserve better than what I can give you with my career, but…”

“Don’t say that. God, Andy don’t say that…”

You heaved a sigh, and Andrew was taken aback when you suddenly stood up, walked around the table and held him close. He didn’t think as he wrapped his arms around you too, though.

“I love you,” you whispered as you held him close, and felt his entire body relax at your words, tears rising back to his eyes. “God, Andrew… I love you so much. I was just scared. It was just bad timing. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I acted like the worst piece of shit, but you are everything but unlovable, okay? How could you think that?”

“Say it again,” he whispered into your neck, noticing the way goosebumps erupted across your skin under his breath. “Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you, Andy…”

Before you could say anything else, he was standing up as well, catching your lips with his in the process.

He heard the shock in your breath, but then your hands were in his hair, and you were pulling him closer, until you were leaning back against the table. His hands on your face to make sure you would stay close. And Christ… the relief of kissing you again, of feeling your lips move perfectly against his at long last, of tasting you once more…

You held him so tightly when you pulled away, arms wrapping around his neck while you rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked, voice hoarser than usual.

“No…”

“Have you? Since we’ve stopped seeing each other?”

But you shook your head.

“No, nothing. You?”

“No one.”

“Really?”

“You broke my heart… it does take more than a few weeks to get over that,” he chuckled, but you didn’t laugh, merely holding him closer, so close he could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was so scared. I tried fooling myself into thinking I didn’t love you, but I do. I love you…”

“I’ll wait for you,” Andrew whispered into your hair. “If you’re not ready but you’d be willing to give me a chance, I would still wait for you…”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He chuckled.

“I don’t know about that. But I know that I love you, despite everything that happened. And besides… it wasn’t all bad. Most of it was good.”

“When I didn’t act like an arse, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

“I loved it so much, you know? Whenever I let myself get closer to you… whenever I let myself love you… Christ, I was so happy then…”

“I was too. Whenever you let me in, I was happy with you. We could still be happy together, if you give us a chance.”

“I was breaking my own heart every time, you know? Every time, Andy… It was so fucking hard… but I was so scared…”

He pulled away, took your hands in his. He stared at you with begging eyes.

“If you want to try this, long-distance is going to be hard. It’ll be rough. Real rough.”

“I know.”

“I can’t… I can’t go through this again, Y/N.”

“Me neither. It was awful for me too.”

“So… if we try this… we give it a real try: I take you on a proper date, and we don’t hold back.”

“Are you sure you still want me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I still want you. Do you want me?”

You answered by kissing him, slow and passionate, making him melt against you, wrap his arms around your frame.

“I’m all in for the date,” you whispered against his lips. “But… can we still go to my bedroom now?”

“Before the first date? What about giving me a proper wine-and-dine treatment before taking me to bed, huh?” he playfully answered, grinning into your lips, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

“I’ll give you wining and dining and everything in between for our first date, but I really want you, right now…”

You fell silent when he let his lips fall to your neck and his hands rise to your breasts.

Little words were exchanged while you left a trail of clothes on the path to your bedroom, staggering now and then as your lips remained sealed to his most of the way.

Except when you were lying on your bed, head against your pillows, looking up at Andrew with adoring eyes as he hovered over you, staring at you like you had hung up the stars and moon in the sky. While he was trembling at the feeling of your naked skin against his, you raised your hands to hold his face, your thumbs gently brushing his cheeks, and his heart stumbled against his ribcage under your tender touch.

“I love you,” you whispered in the softest voice he had ever heard, adoration oozing from your sweet tone. “I love you, Andy.”

He rested his forehead against yours, lowering his body onto yours to feel as much of your skin against his as he could.

“I love you, Y/N,” he murmured with the same devotion and worship in his deep voice. “I love you so fucking much…”

And when he kissed you again, there was no doubt in either of your minds that this was what love was supposed to feel like.

Hozier for LINDA.meiden

❝ Hozier sings like he was taught to love a woman by an amazing lesbian mom. ❞

Nothing will make me laugh harder than Hozier spending an entire verse of First Time being like "my life was saved by the beauty of a bouquet of flowers, do you think flowers realize they're dying once they've been cut? How cruel we are to end the life of something that spent its entire being striving for the simple joy of feeling the sun. Isn't it crazy how they give it their all, trying desperately to be alive and to, if not stave off death, then to go out with beauty and knowing you have nothing left" and then finishing the verse by going "anyways" as if he just said that to you like, in line at the grocery store

Unreal Unearth social media promo where Hozier is a dry, silly, giant weirdo.

Holding a knife but promising it's not bad

"My absolute horsey gnashers."

"Postpone that funeral."

"I love to laugh (deadpan face)."

(Don't) Commit crimes and get Hozier tix.

Sophie's manifestation powers. "We did it, Joe."

"What I am in this video is an expert of where I'm gonna be in November." (As you should be, man.)

Most informed ticket marketing person.

Why is he like this?

Hozier played Someone New last night via a fan's sign 'pick a number' and the band smashed it even if they had not played it in over a year NOBODY HMU!!!

Also shoutout to Kamilah who had never rehearsed it (since she only joined this year) but still killed it on the vocals!!!

Kia Forum night 3 || 09/20/2024

@deprivedmusicaljunkie

Bugs mention AND Like Real People Do?? So important to me!!!

Kia Forum night 2 || 09/18/2024

Hozier in caps